The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0)

by Grace McGinty

  When she got to the kitchen, it was empty but there was a note on the bench written on the back of an envelope that contained her power bill.

  “Got called into work. Warehouse fire in Canarsie. We still have to talk. K xo”

  Azar smiled at the xo, gathered up her casserole dish and locked up her apartment.

  Joe lived around the corner from her, in a street lined with row houses just off Linden Boulevard. It was a nice street. Neighbors sat on their front porches, minding everyone’s business, and kids played on the sidewalk. Joe’s place was a pretty standard row house; three levels including the basement, a postage stamp sized front yard big enough for the trash cans and a few flowers. A small backyard had just enough room for a grill, a patch of grass and a kid’s swing set.

  Azar pulled into a spot on the front of the house, looked at herself in the mirror to make sure she didn’t outwardly look like she’d just had wild sex and walked up the steps to the front door. She could hear the noise of the kids running around the house and it made her smile. No wonder Joe talked so loud, he was probably partially deaf from the years of competing with his sisters to be heard and now the constant high level of noise inside his own home.

  She hammered on the door to be heard above the thundering of little feet inside. The door was opened by a little boy dressed in an Ironman outfit, complete with mask and glowing round arc reactor in his chest. Azar guessed it was Joe’s four year old son, Tommy. She schooled her features into her best straight face and gazed down seriously at Tommy.

  “Sorry Mr. Stark, I was looking for the Maconi residence. I must have taken the wrong turn off Linden.” She gave the boy a look of mock confusion. The little boy removed his mask and smiled.

  “No Az, it’s just me!” he giggled and grabbed her hand, pulling her into the hustle and bustle of the sitting room. “Az’s here,” he yelled to anyone who cared before running off to join his cousins, who were doing laps around the sitting room in a boisterous game of chase. Linda stuck her head out of the kitchen and took in the chaos around her.

  “That’s it, everyone go play outside. That includes you Joe!” Azar looked over to where Joe was holding a little boy upside down by one leg with a huge grin on his face. Linda sighed. “It’s like I have four kids sometimes, you know?” But she was smiling as she said it and Azar knew the love the two shared.

  Joe lowered the kid to the ground and shooed him outside. He came over and kissed his wife, then wrapped Azar in a warm brotherly hug.

  “You look awfully happy today. What put that big goofy smile on your face? Or should I say who?” Azar swung a punch at him in the shoulder but Joe danced out of the way, laughing. “Coming outside for a game of football?” He asked as he backed towards the door, in case she took another shot at him while his back was turned. He knew her too well; she wasn’t above the cheap shots.

  “Of course, I need the opportunity to pound you one for having such a big mouth! I’ll just put this in the kitchen and let the chaos die down a bit first.” She hefted the casserole dish.

  Mama Maconi stuck her head through the kitchen door and took the casserole dish from her hands. Azar bent so she could get the ceremonial kiss on both of her cheeks.

  Mama Maconi was a tiny woman, and if Azar was any closer than four feet away, all she could see was Mama's tight grey bun that perched perfectly on the top of her head.

  “Azar, my beautiful girl, you look wonderful. Too skinny though. You need to eat more. How have you been? A pretty girl like you needs to find a man and get married. My bridge partner’s son is back in Brooklyn and he is quite the catch. I could get him to call you, if you'd like?” Linda made tiny but vigorous head shakes behind Mama Marconi’s back. Then, just in case Azar didn’t quite catch the hint, she stuck a finger down her throat and made up-chuck motions.

  “That’s okay, Mama. I have to work with all those men at the fire station. That’s enough testosterone for me right now.” Joe’s mother wouldn’t reply to anything but Mama from the adults or Nonna from the kids.

  Mama Maconi just shook her head, muttering how you weren’t young forever and something about bambinos before waving them away and waddling back into the kitchen. Linda grinned and rubbed her pregnant belly. Joe and Linda took the procreation of bambinos very seriously. They had three boys already, and Linda had secretly confided they were going to keep going until she finally got a girl. Joe was adamant that he had too much testosterone for them to have anything but boys. They were even running a pool at the firehouse about the sex of the baby. Odds were twenty to one that it was another boy. Azar had put a cool Benjamin on the fact it was a girl. She hoped so for Linda's sake.

  Azar wasn’t sure how she ended up adopted into this family, but she was thankful. They were a wonderful piece of normalcy in her otherwise hectic life. Linda poured Azar a glass of wine and herself some grape juice and told Mama Maconi that she was going to watch the game out back. Mama was the captain of the kitchen, and heaven help anyone who interfered.

  Out on the small back deck, Joe’s sisters Tina and Louise were already sipping wine. They both got up and gave her the classic Italian two cheek kiss before they settled back down on the wide comfy chairs that took up most of the space on the deck.

  “So, we heard from a little birdy that you and Keenan Reilly did the nasty.” Louise grinned at her and waggled her eyebrows.

  “If by a little birdy you mean that six foot four turkey over there, then you heard correctly.” Azar waved her hand in the direction of Joe. She should have known he wouldn't have let the news stay at the station. The three women hooted and demanded details. She shook her head; she didn’t kiss and tell, despite their persistence.

  “But it was only the once, right?” Linda asked, looking at Azar suspiciously. Azar felt her face get red, and the blush slowly spread down her neck until she felt like she was red all over. All three women looked at her with their mouths wide open. “More than once? When?” Linda exclaimed. They all leaned forward in their chairs.

  Azar downed the rest of her glass of wine and then poured another one from the bottle in the middle of the table.

  “This morning,” she mumbled.

  Azar just wanted to lie down and die with embarrassment. Every week she would come over here and grumble about her dislike of Keenan whenever his name was mentioned, which was usually in connection to him sleeping with some poor girl. She’d go on and on about how she wouldn’t sleep with Keenan Goddamn Reilly if he were the last man on earth. She still kind of disliked him until he took his clothes off. Then she liked him very much. The man had a body made for sin and a talent in the sack she had rarely seen in her hundred odd years. But when he had his clothes on, he was possessive and demanding, not to mention a chauvinist to the core.

  When you added Bast to the mix, her love life was just a confusing mess. She knew Bast wanted her. She saw it in his eyes every time he looked at her, felt the very real evidence of it last night and now he knew her secret, there was really nothing stopping her. Except Keenan Goddamn Reilly. Until she worked out what they had together, she couldn’t really give in to her hunger for Bast. Not that she and Keenan could ever be together; he was human, she was Djinn. It was just too dangerous for both of them.

  “Earth to Azar, a penny for your thoughts?” Linda nudged her with her arm.

  “From the look on her face, I’d give her far more than a penny for her thoughts,” Tina chimed in. “Keenan Reilly is such a hottie, and I heard from the girl who works in the clinic on East 22nd street that he is a monster in the sack. I love Paul, but I have to admit, I’m kind of envious!” Paul was Tina’s husband. He sold electrical goods and was a little spongy around the middle, but he had a quick smile and he loved his wife.

  “I don’t know,” Azar sighed. “Keenan is great until he opens his mouth. When we are, uh, in bed, he’s perfect. Plus, he knows some tricks that would not only blow your socks off but would shoot them straight out of the tri-state area. But when he’s not busy doi
ng those things, he’s arrogant and opinionated. And then there’s this other guy who’s just like me and he’s smoking hot too but as equally unavailable, emotionally I mean.”

  “What do you mean just like you? Another firefighter?”

  Azar grimaced. Whoops. She reminded herself to slow down on the wine before she spilled everything.

  “No, he’s Iranian. Sometimes it’s just nice to have a shared history,” Azar lied. It was partially true, after all.

  “I didn’t think that kind of thing mattered to you. This isn’t about the guy you got caught with by the guys from the 285 the other night? The one at the Blue Smoke club? Hal’s wife called me at nine the next morning to tell me that little tidbit. I don’t even think I was the first on her call list. I think she’d called the entire school emergency phone tree by the time she got to me,” Linda said and winked.

  Azar panicked. “I’m kinda seeing this guy, and his uh, cousin owns the club. It was just a wrong place at the wrong time kind of thing.” It was all partially true, but it sounded lame, even to her own ears. She didn’t even care that the entire FDNY was talking about her; if not about the whole Keenan and Azar affair, then probably about her little foray into a pervert bar practically naked. For a brief moment, she was kind of glad that she had bigger things to worry about or else she would be truly horrified.

  The two bottles of wine on the table were now empty and Louise and Tina had that cheery glow of the newly tipsy.

  “Is he as good looking as Keenan Reilly? I’d really like to have your problem. Good looking men throwing themselves at me left and right until I had to beat them back from my door with a stick just to get to work every morning,” Tina sighed wistfully.

  “I’m sure Johnny wouldn’t mind if you beat him with a stick every now and then,” Louise teased her sister.

  Tina’s husband Johnny was a tough as nails construction worker from the Bronx. Tina and he had met at a friend’s wedding and hit it off straight away. They’d married a year later and had their first child a year after that. Azar knew the only reason Joe had approved of the match back then was because he was pretty sure he couldn’t take Johnny in a fight. Years later, everyone could see how much Johnny and Tina adored each other and their little girl. He was rough around the edges and he wasn’t Italian, but he fit in with the family just fine.

  “I promise you, I get out my door just fine every morning. Until last week I didn’t have any romantic prospects. But you know what it’s like, it’s either feast or famine in this city.” They all gave sympathetic murmurs and the topic changed to the fact Tommy refused to wear anything but his Ironman suit.

  Azar joined in the conversation, giving advice where she felt she could, but generally just feeling amused. Tommy was going to provide Joe and Linda with some serious problems when he hit his teenage years. Mama Maconi said Tommy was just like Joe when he was a boy, and from what Azar had heard, that meant wild and rebellious. Mama said Joe was the cause of every one of her grey hairs.

  She finished her wine and joined in the game of football. It was wild game with no rules, and the kids were covered in dirt and grass stains. Azar couldn’t get into it as much as Joe because she was wearing a dress, but she kicked off her shoes and ran around after the kids. She held down Joe so the kids could all pile on top of him in a ferocious game of stacks on, and Johnny ran out to hold down his legs as the kids tickled him until he cried for mercy.

  Soon, Mama Maconi was calling everyone in for dinner and clucking at the grass stains on everyone’s clothes and knees. The huge dining table, set with lots of mismatched chairs and china, was soon crowded with adults. The kids had their own table in the corner, where they didn't have to worry about manners and the conversation centered on the newest video games rather than taxes. Food was passed around and plates were piled high. Papa Maconi said Grace and soon enough everyone dug in like they’d been starved for a month. The laughter and conversation was loud and raucous as always. She'd been seated between Linda and Johnny, which meant if she turned to her left she could talk about something other than her love life.

  “So, how’s business Johnny?” Azar asked between mouthfuls of baked Ziti.

  “Yeah, not bad. Working for a new outfit here in Brooklyn so I can come home to Tina and Stellah earlier every night, you know? But they are a bit shady this new crew; I think they might be owned by the family if you catch my drift. But I don’t mind, they pay better than the Bronx and I keep my head down and just get on with my work.” That was a lot of words for Johnny, who usually gave her monosyllabic answers.

  Obviously, Brooklyn had some pretty famous gangsters in its time, mostly in the forties and fifties, but that had quieted down now. But they were still there and although they didn’t have the power that they had sixty or seventy years ago, it was assumed that they still had some form of operation in Brooklyn. However, no one really blinked an eyelid at such things anymore; they'd become part of the landscape of Brooklyn.

  “Be careful,” Azar cautioned. “They aren’t the type to think twice about putting you in a bad situation that you can’t get out of.” Azar had met some gangsters in her time. In the old days they had a strict moral code, but that had slowly eroded over the years into the free for all that was around now. There was no honor amongst thieves these days.

  By the time the food was finished and the coffee and the cake savored, it was time to go home. Azar could barely stand. She was glad she had to wear dresses to these dinners because if she was in her jeans, the top button might have flown off and poked out someone’s eye. She offered to wash up, as she did every week, and was shooed out of the kitchen by Mama Maconi and Linda.

  Azar wandered into the living room and sat on the couch arm next to Joe, as all the seats were taken by the men. They were a very traditional family; guests and men weren’t allowed in the kitchen and the women weren’t allowed to mow the lawn or barbeque. Not exactly a division of labor, especially when Linda and Joe’s sisters worked a full day as well, but hey, old habits die hard.

  When Azar was convinced that she could actually fit behind the wheel of her car again, she took her leave. She kissed everyone on both cheeks, including Johnny who wasn’t actually Italian but accepted this intimacy with good grace and Papa Maconi who kissed Azar’s cheeks hard enough to leave a bruise every week. Mama Maconi hustled her out the door with leftovers to “fatten her up” and Joe saw her to her car. He whistled at the beautiful Shelby and ran a hand over the roof. Joe suffered from serious car envy; he only had a beat up Honda and Linda had a minivan to transport the boys around every day.

  “Do you want me to leave you and my car alone for a minute?” Azar asked laughingly.

  “Yes, please. Leave the keys too,” Joe said, holding his hand out eagerly.

  She smacked it away, laughing. There was no way on earth that she would let Joe drive her car. He was a hot blooded Italian who believed, like almost every man, that he was really meant to be a Formula One driver. That meant going too fast, and taking the corners like Michael Schumacher. Azar popped him in the arm hard and slid into her car.

  “Thanks for lunch!” she yelled out the window as she put her foot on the gas and roared away.

  Chapter 9

  Azar was brought out of her food coma by someone standing over her bed. Her scream was quickly covered by a hand.

  “It’s only me! Don’t panic the neighbors or they’ll call the cops. And then Detective Overprotective will come over and we’ll have to do that whole Shakespearean drama again.” Bast’s golden eyes glittered down at her in the moonlight as he sat on the edge of her bed, looking like the star of a dirty dream.

  “Jesus H. Christ Bast, are you trying to scare the life out of me? What part of ‘threatened by crazed Ifrit’ don’t you understand? You just don’t walk into a woman's bedroom like that!”

  Azar’s heart rate was racing so fast it that it felt like it was going to burst from her chest like a facehugger from the movie Aliens. Like having Bast in h
er bedroom late at night wasn’t bad enough, but she was also naked. She’d come home from Joe’s place, stripped off all her clothes and fell into bed to sleep off all the food she'd eaten. She pulled the sheet tighter around her body, but Bast had already noticed her bare shoulders and was appreciating the outline of her body under the sheet. She tried desperately to think of something to distract him.

  “Uh, what time is it anyway? And how the hell did you get into my apartment?” She could see Bast’s teeth gleam in the moonlight. Obviously not her most subtle change of topic.

  “It’s 12:15 a.m. I tried knocking but no one answered so I closed my eyes and wished myself into your apartment, of course. That's the Jann specialty; transporting desperate souls to places that contain great beauty. And I am desperate,” he purred. “And you are very beautiful.” He leaned closer and put a hand on the either side of her body so that her breasts were pressed close to his chest and his mouth was inches away. Every nerve in her body went on high alert.

  “Don’t worry, Little Fire. I’m not going to jump your bones tonight. Fortunately for you, you’ve been saved by the bell. Or in this case by Donovan.” He leaned closer so that his cheek brushed hers and his lips were near her ear. “When we do make love, and it will happen, you will beg me to join you under that sheet.” He kissed the pulse point just below her ear and moved off the bed, a hand running down over the curve of her hip. “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.” And then he was gone.

  Her body was on fire. Her heartbeat had gone from Kentucky Derby to the running of the bulls in Pamplona. She threw the sheet off to cool herself down and took a few deep breaths. She wondered if it was possible for the Djinn to have a heart attack. She was tempted to have a cold shower but decided she should see what Bast thought was so important that he got her out of bed at midnight. Pulling on her jeans and a cable knit jumper, she shuffled out to the kitchen barefoot. Bast had brewed some coffee and set the mugs on the counter.