The Beast of Boston

by JL Mac

  Murphy jumped into action as Orin leveled the barrel of his gun with the man’s head. Before Murphy could reach him, Orin pulled the trigger, permanently silencing the Russian who would have gladly murdered Ena given the opportunity.

  And there are scores more like him.

  “Better get this place cleaned up and send our Russian friends the message,” Orin said as he turned on his heel and left without an ounce of remorse. I was on his heels as he left the crew apartment.

  “I believe I may have to bring my daughter home,” he said as I flicked my thumbs over my phone, working to get a security detail in place for her.

  “I will go get her myself if that’s what you want,” I offered, holding my breath for the green light to go recover what’s rightfully his—mine too.

  “And you believe she would return with you?” The skepticism that rang out in his voice was hard to miss.

  “I didn’t say she would be happy or willing. Given the circumstances, I don’t truly care what she thinks. I only care that she is safe.”

  Or smiled tightly and patted me on my shoulder. “Good man, boyo. Keep my girl safe. At all costs,” he said leveling me with a serious look before he slipped into his car and disappeared down the road.

  “She’s my girl too,” I whispered to myself, watching his taillights disappear and estimating how quickly I could make preparations, pack and have my jet ready for take off.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Ena

  So far today, Monday is living up to her bad reputation. First bank madness that made me look like I had wholly lost my fucking mind and now I have a mound of files to pick through if I have any hope of discovering who is watching me and who sent the money from the phony account.

  “Of course this wouldn’t be easy,” I mutter reviewing the information Hack forwarded to me. There is nothing here indicating that Beast opened a Swiss bank account in my name. It’s no easy task sorting through this treasure trove of information though so perhaps I haven’t come upon what I am looking for yet. Beast’s personal email addresses and files on his computer are daunting to sort through. I have been scanning through these files for hours. I was shocked to see that it would seem at least fifty percent—more—of his holdings and assets appear to be relatively clean and Beast is extremely wealthy. More so than I had first believed. His criminal empire is rivaled only by his legitimate business empire. Half of his files are dreadfully boring spreadsheets and projections, business proposals and promotional material. The other half may as well be in Greek because I don’t understand half of what I see. I click on the next email and close it out after confirming it to be strictly business-related. I click on the next email and my eyes immediately get hung up on the subject line.

  Subject: Paternity findings.

  Paternity findings?

  A hairline fissure in my angry, tormented heart cracks open at the unwarranted image in my mind of Carrick holding a little bundle in his arms. I shouldn’t care. I should pity the poor kid, whoever it is, and move along with my search for relevant information but I find myself clicking on the file. My eyes scan over the generic information about the accuracy of genetic testing, the process and what the numbers mean. I skim down the page to the bottom where the results are.

  … based on the samples provided the probability of paternity is 99.976%.

  I scroll through the results again, half expecting Kate to be named as the mother of some random child that Carrick is being saddled with but the results don’t list any names specifically. It merely notes samples one and two. I click the X in the top left corner of the box and get to my feet, pacing my living room unsure of what to think about my immediate and undeniable response to the idea that maybe Carrick has a baby with someone and maybe he even has a woman he loves?

  Jesus.

  I rake my fingertips through my hair and shake my head.

  It shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t hurt. Why does this hurt?

  My stomach growls and I glance up at the clock, noting the time. I should probably eat something or I will hate myself before work in the morning when I am starving. I snag my phone and make quick work of ordering from the Chinese restaurant down the street before they close for the night. Thirty minutes later the delivery guy knocks on my apartment door.

  “Yeah, be right there,” I shout, digging cash out of my purse. I snag the money and swing my door open anticipating that first whiff of savory Mongolian beef but much to my surprise, the scent swirling around me isn’t Chinese food, it’s designer cologne and Beast’s natural, signature scent. I freeze and swallow, willing saliva to return.

  “Ena,” he exhales. His eyes are tired but no less intimidating.

  “Beast,” I whisper in shock.

  “Are you going to invite me in?”

  “No,” I blurt and move to slam the door in his face. Predictably his forearm comes up, forcing the door back. He marches into my apartment and shuts the door, locking it after himself. Much like he did at my crappy rental in Boston, I watch him prowl around my apartment without saying a word. He glances through the space, seeming to search for something.

  “You had any visitors lately? Left the place unlocked? Anything like that?”

  “Not exactly your fucking business, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Ena, answer the question,” he growls pointing his finger at me.

  “No visitors and I always lock up. You know, in case monsters come calling,” I deadpan. “Why are you here?”

  “Pack a bag. You’re coming home,” he declares.

  I laugh raucously, curling my arms around my middle and bending over as I laugh hysterically at him.

  “That’s hilarious,” I sigh, swiping my fingertips at my eyes. I open my eyes to find Beast staring at me with a deadly serious look on his stunning, evil face.

  “You can’t be serious. This is my home now. I have a job, a good one, and I am making a life for myself away from … everything and everyone back home.”

  “You will pack a bag and walk out of here with me or you will leave with nothing and be carried out. Your choice,” he cautions me.

  “You can’t do that,” I state eyeing him. He immediately closes the gap between us.

  “Nah, nah, nah!” I shove and yell at him but he grips me around my middle and tosses me over his shoulder.

  “I told you. You’re coming home with me now,” he grits out.

  “Okay! Put me down!” He puts me to my feet and glares at me. “But, first, you’re telling me why or I go nowhere.”

  “Trust me, I wouldn’t be here unless it were a matter of life and death. Now, if you don’t mind,” he motions with his hand for me to hurry up. Just then a knock sounds at the door and Carrick draws his gun and holds his finger to his lips, signaling for me to be quiet. I scowl at him and wait as he looks through the peephole on the door. He sighs and pulls a crisp bill from his pocket and opens the door. He shoves the cash at the delivery guy and promptly tosses my food in the garbage in the kitchen.

  “What the fuck? That’s my dinner!” I cry giving careful consideration to retrieving my food from the trash.

  “You eat this crap? It’s no wonder you look like hell,” he notes with his scrutinizing eyes giving me a once over.

  “Thank you, Beast, but not eating anything because I was devastated to discover that the man I was dumb enough to fall for conspired to murder my father. Hell of a diet,” I clip, ignoring the prickling sensation behind my eyes. His stormy gaze shifts to a spot on the floor and a muscle in his cheek twitches. Silence stretches across the gulf between us for what feels like an eon.

  “We don’t have time for you to sit and eat. The food could be tampered with, anyway,” he says causing me to gape at him. He’s lost his mind. “Pack your suitcase. The jet is waiting,” he finally orders as though he hasn’t heard a thing I just said.

  “What part of no don’t you get? One syllable. Super clear. No gray area there, Carrick. I’m not going anywhere with you.” Crossing my
arms and squaring my stance, I stare him down. Beast’s icy glare spears me and he marches forward, forcing me back until I’m pinned against the wall.

  “And what part of yes you are don’t you get?” His massive body crowds mine. My breasts graze the front of his crisp white shirt. My breathing slows as my heart rate climbs skyward.

  “Give me one reason why I would go with you anywhere?” I counter.

  “I don’t have to.”

  “I’d be dumb to go with you.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ll be dead if you stay.” He backs away and my traitorous body immediately aches at the loss of his warmth. He makes his way through my place, snagging a bag from my closet and stuffing things inside. “There’s a hit out on you,” he finally says, pulling my dresser drawer open and tossing underthings in the duffle bag. He lifts up a black fishnet thong that covers absolutely nothing and looks at me with a raised brow. “Fifty large is up for grabs and it’s going to have every lowlife criminal knocking on your door in the very near future. So. As I have already said more than once, get your shit. We’re leaving. Now.”

  “Bullshit. I call bullshit.”

  “I would have you corroborate my story with my little Bratva friend but he’s dead so forgive me if you’ll just have to take my fucking word for it,” he growls in my ear as he grips my upper arm under his bruising hand. I wrench myself away from him, my chest heaving.

  “No! I’m not fucking going!” Beast growls and looks up at my ceiling then stares me down with his eyes narrowed.

  “Have it your way,” he says dropping my bag and stepping toward me. Before I can run he produces a small syringe. My eyes feel like they’ll fall out of my head as I watch him pull the cap from the needle with his teeth and smile faintly at me. “Trust me when I say I would not be here if I didn’t have to be. Goodnight, Ena,” he whispers as he plunges the needle beneath my skin. Warmth swaddles me and all fight evaporates. “Carrick,” I mumble. My eyes shut and the subtle sensation of being tucked close to Beast takes over as does complete, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Beast

  I tuck a lock of fiery hair behind her ear and tug the blanket further up her body. I trace my fingertips along her jaw and watch her sleep with her head resting on my thigh. I could put her in the bedroom suite at the rear of the jet but then I wouldn’t be able to smell her and touch her hair. It’s wrong with her unconscious I suppose but I can’t keep my hands away from her and last I checked I’ve never really been bound by a conscience. She’s out cold and will undoubtedly feel like a hell tomorrow but drugging her was the only way I was going to get my little spitfire out of Seattle with both of us in one piece. I fire a text to Murphy letting him know that we are on our way back to Boston and that Lan should go ahead and contact Ena’s supervisor at work first thing in the morning with the bullshit story about a sudden death in the family. Lan didn’t even hesitate to comply, not that she would go against anything Murphy asks her for. She has some sort of bond with him I don’t quite understand and I don’t even think there is a name for it. They aren’t a couple by any stretch of the imagination and he isn’t like some older brother to her. He’s… I don’t know what the hell to call their connection other than envy inducing.

  I smooth my palm over Ena’s silky hair and make it a point to savor this moment because when she wakes up, that peaceful countenance on her breathtaking face will vanish and be replaced by a rabid animal. She’s going to be furious and maybe violent. She will berate me with questions I can’t and won’t answer. She will challenge me and tempt me and it is going to be miserable but well worth seeing her safe in my own home. I didn’t ask where to take her. He knows I can’t bring her home and not put her up in my place. He knows what she means to me.

  “You destroy me,” I whisper to her sleeping form.

  Hours later, the jet touches down in Boston and I gather Ena in my arms and carry her straight to my Aston Martin and right to my place. She hasn’t budged but I can feel the tension in my chest bundling up like explosives ready to go off. When she wakes up she’s going to lose her fucking mind. I can’t say I blame her. She views me as the worst of the worst human beings.

  Just as you wanted her to.

  If I had known all of this would be happening like it is maybe I could have come up with a better way to handle her and our split. Split. As if we were a couple. As if she had ever truly been mine. Maybe she wasn’t ever really mine but goddamn I was hers, every cell in my body every part of my being was hers—still is. I grit my teeth and run my hands through my hair. I’m a self-destructive fool for laying her in my bed but I couldn’t resist having the scent of her on my sheets again. I sent Orin a text as we were touching down to let him know I have her home in Boston and if he wants to see her, now would be an ideal time. He called me immediately and said he’d be on his way. The minute I open my door and let him in he puts his palm against my cheek but says nothing further.

  You’re welcome.

  “She’s in my room sleeping. She wasn’t very cooperative. I had to drug her with the stuff Doc gave me,” I admit.

  “Of course you did. She’s a McCrae,” he smiles ruefully and makes his way to my bedroom. Orin pushes my bedroom door open and simply stands at the door watching her breathe in and out. A shaky breath escapes him and he covers his mouth with his hand before shutting the door and returning to my living room.

  “What now?” I ask calmly hoping that I have my anxiety masked well.

  “She can’t stay in this.”

  “She won’t be safe elsewhere either.”

  “I know.”

  “So the choices are bad or worse?”

  “Seems that way my boyo.”

  “She hates me,” I confess. “She hates me so much and it’s destroying me, Or.”

  “I know, son but would you have chosen anything else for her?”

  “No. I love her too much.”

  “For now, let’s handle one thing at a time and right now keeping her safe and spilling Russian blood is at the top of our list,” he says, patting my shoulder on his way to my door.

  “Son, in another life, under different circumstances, I think I would have wanted nothing more than for my daughter to fall in love with you, just not in this life and under these circumstances. And I’m sorry for that.” I bite my tongue to keep quiet and nod my head without even looking his way.

  Whiskey ushered me off to sleep sometime in the early morning hours and the glutton for punishment that I am, I slept in the chaise in a chair in the corner of my room. I start awake with my phone buzzing against my thigh. My eyes catch the time.

  10:16

  Murphy: I’m picking up Lan so she can come see E. That work for you?

  Me: Fine.

  Murphy: Be there in a half hour.

  I make my way to my bathroom and strip down for a quick shower. I get out and towel off then tug on my underwear. I open the door and immediately notice the empty bed. I swear under my breath and immediately hunt her down. A crashing sound has me in a full sprint toward it. I hear mumbled curses and more crashing noises coming from my office. I fly into my office to see Ena wild-eyed and rage-filled.

  “How. Fucking. Dare. You!” she fumes, prowling around my desk toward me. I raise my brows and rein in my nerves. I catch sight of her slip my letter opener off the edge of my desk on her way toward me. I cock my head in challenge.

  “Would you prefer I allow some piece shit to break into your place and murder you in your sleep?”

  “As opposed to some piece of shit breaking in, drugging and kidnapping me?” she yells, making her cheeks and the tips of her ears flame red with anger. I chuckle at her outrage and that only sends her hurling herself at me, letter opener and all. She manages to jab the blunt tip of the blade into my chest, breaking the skin only a little. She takes off, running drunkenly down the hall. I hurry after her.

  “Goddamn you Ena!” I roar.

  “Fuck you,” she screams half turning t
o hurl the letter opener at me. I dodge and continue pursuing her.

  “You’re gonna break your neck on the fuckin’ stairs!” I bellow.

  “Good!” I lunge for her at the landing and grab a fist full of flaming red hair successfully leashing her and keeping her from tumbling on unsteady legs. She yelps and immediately claws at my arms. “Let go!” she demands, thrashing. I growl and drag her by her hair down to the kitchen.

  “Stop fighting me,” I warn holding her at arms length.

  “Let me go!” she screams, her voice hoarse.

  “I’m not letting you go until you calm the fuck down.”

  She screams that blood curdling Hollywood scream making my ears pop and ring. The front door flying open causes both of us to freeze. Murphy looks ready for battle with his gun drawn and Lan tucked behind him. She spots us and steps to his side cocking her head curiously.

  “I see you two are cozy again,” she deadpans.

  I shake my head and give Ena a pointed glare. “Try that shit again and a swear to Christ I’ll cuff you to a bedpost.”

  Ena’s lip curls in disgust and she shoves away from me as I release the mass of red hair. “Lan, gimme your phone so I can call my work at home in Seattle” she says pausing to glare at me. “I need to let them know that something came up,” she clips breathing hard to catch her breath.

  “No worries. I already called them,” Lan explains coolly as she goes to my refrigerator and peruses for food.

  “You what?” Ena blanches.

  “I called and spoke to your boss. Told them a sudden death in the family is going to have you home for a while,” she shrugs. “Boss said fine and wants an address to send flowers.”

  “You knew he was coming for me and you didn’t give me a heads up?” Ena splutters, causing me to snort.

  “Mmm. Mhmmm,” Lan hums pretending to think about it. She selects an apple and bites into it.

  “I can’t fucking believe you,” Ena groans rubbing her temples. I imagine her head is splitting with a headache right about now.