48 Mac (A Junkyard Boys Novel)

by SH Richardson

  I’d fucked up.

  Otelia must’ve thought that I’d forgotten about her, that I’d gotten my fill of her sweet pussy and ghosted. I’d been so preoccupied with everything going on, it’d been hard to step away for even a second. I went to Nipsy’s to warn her about a possible threat and to watch her back for the next few days until we could lock it down. The place had new security installed, a guard posted, and was pretty far away from the city. Apples to oranges, she was safer maintaining her regular routine than being anywhere near me since I was the assumed target. I heard her screams as I pulled into the parking lot, saw the flash of light coming from a van parked behind a row of trees. In that moment, I realized she was the mark they were after. The high-powered sniper rifle was yards away. How they’d fucking missed was an act of God or the devil himself.

  She should be dead.

  I chanced a peek at Otelia as she sat stiffly, folded into herself, clutching her cell, listening to that schoolboy message on repeat. I fought against the need to snatch the phone out of her hand and toss it out the window. His sugar-sweet voice was getting on my nerves. Annoying little dead fuck occupied her thoughts and attention when it should’ve been on the live man sitting next to her. I’d give her that if it made her feel safe, but no way in hell would I be outflanked by a spirit.

  Otelia had talked me into letting her go after the fish incident, but not this time. The silence that settled over us in the car was deafening, and even though I was driving, I wanted to pull her into my lap and feel her pressed against me. I wanted to be whom she reached for instead of that fucking cell phone message when she needed solace. I wanted her to cry for me the way she did for him years after my death. Most of all, I wanted her to see me as being enough without the fancy title of Boss.

  Headlights at the entrance of the hotel interrupted my dissolute thoughts. The bright shine illuminated the interior of my Aston Martin, temporarily blinding my view. Otelia sat up straighter in her seat. Fear contorted her beautiful face into a grimace. I slammed on the breaks before plowing into the blockade, weapon already in hand. I grabbed the second gun and checked the magazine, ensuring I had a full clip. The blinding light dimmed a fraction, giving us a clear view of what or who stood in our way. Otelia inhaled sharply as she recognized what was sure to be a fucking shit show. This little standoff was bound to happen sooner or later.

  “Stay here. I’ll take care of this,” I ordered.

  “Please, Darragh. Don’t do anything—”

  “Shh.” I shut her up with a bruising kiss. “Relax. Just going to have a chat with my old friends. Stay inside the car. Whatever happens, don’t come out.”

  I stepped out and faced the group of men surrounded by a monster truck, a BMW, a red sports car, and a blacked-out Harley Davidson. I approached the well-armed bunch cautiously, guns at the ready, unintimidated by their show of force.

  “Well, well, well.” I smirked in each of their faces. “If it isn’t… Buck’s boys. What brings you to my neck of the woods? Slumming?”

  Marcus Mecken stepped forward, assuming the role of spokesperson. “Came for Odie, fuckhead. We know you have her, we know she’s alive, and we know you better give her up smooth before we ask a second time.”

  The butts of his nine millimeters peeked from under the leather vest he wore. I had a bow and arrow trained at my chest, and a shotgun aimed at my balls. Four against one. The odds were steep against me, but I wouldn’t play bitch for him, or anyone else for that matter. I turned to see Otelia watching the action with bated breath through the windshield. I needed to get her out of here, and fast.

  “Afraid that won’t be possible, boys. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other pressing matters that require my attention.”

  “What you GOT, motherfucker, is a whole lotta smoke if you don’t march your ass back to that car and release my woman’s best friend in the next ten seconds,” Mecken sneered.

  “I don’t like your tone, soldier. It almost sounded like you were giving me an order. Surely, that wasn’t the case? You and I both know I would never take orders from a lightweight jarhead motherfucker like you.”

  “Too much talk, brother,” the asshole with the shotgun snapped.

  “Last chance, douchebag.” Mecken smirked, eyes turning feral with anticipation. “Release Odie and walk the fuck away like a good little pussy. Decide.”

  My calm resolve snapped in two like a brittle tree branch. With murder in mind, I moved. Rumbles and growls of heated men could be heard over the rapid clicks of cold steel as we advanced rounds into the chambers of our weapons. I lifted my arms and spread them wide enough to take out two of the four targets before I’d undoubtedly be taken down by one of the others. I wasn’t afraid to sleep with danger; it was an everyday occurrence in this life. Dying for a woman? Well, that was a new one.

  “STOP! Please, don’t do this.” I heard footsteps then felt a soft touch to my shoulder. Otelia.

  “I told you to stay in the fucking car, woman,” I snapped, keeping my eyes focused on Mecken.

  Otelia stepped right into the middle of the fray, preventing either of us from shooting for fear of hitting her in the process. I would call it brave if it wasn’t so goddamn stupid and reckless. I looked forward to tanning her little ass when this was over.

  “Please, Marcus, lower your weapons so we can talk this out,” she pleaded.

  Mecken and his boys immediately acquiesced.

  I did not.

  “Mac…please,” she begged, blue eyes big as saucers. “Just let me talk to them, smooth things over. I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me.”

  Did I trust these motherfuckers? Hell no.

  Was I willing to get Otelia hurt by acting rashly? Not tonight.

  Not ever.

  I inhaled a steadying breath and lowered the weapons to my side. If they expected me to put them away, they were sadly mistaken. I jerked my head in her direction, legs locked and planted wide. She could never understand the full cost of knuckling under to these clowns. If it were anyone else doing the asking, I would’ve shot that shit down with the quickness.

  Only for you, Otelia.

  “What are you guys doing here, Marcus,” she addressed the smug prick.

  “Saw what went down at Nipsy’s, came as fast as we could. How you holding up?”

  “Oh, right…that was scary.” She laughed nervously. “How did you...” Otelia peeked over her shoulder in my direction. Yeah, kitty cat. She knew the answer to her question before it left her pretty lips. Mecken was only looking out for his woman; she worked there too and was his sole focus, not Otelia. He might have kept tabs, but it wasn’t with her in mind. I wanted to shoot that fucker all over again for making her feel inconsequential.

  “Everything’s fine now. No need to worry about me.”

  “You’re family,” Mecken growled. “We take care of our own, Odie. You belong with us at the yard, where we can keep you safe, shielded from pricks like him.”

  “Touch her and you die, motherfucker,” I challenged. “She stays with me.”

  “Seems you got your dirty little hands full seeing as you’re staving off an underground turf war and all, MacCabe,” the big one, Range, chimed in. “Don’t need an innocent woman caught in the middle of your bullshit mob feud. Not for nothing, but the next time you decide to have a shootout,”—he leaned in, chest puffed, eyes sharp—“learn how to fucking shoot.”

  “You want to test my skills, bitch? You die first, get it?” I attempted to raise my gun hand but was stopped short by Otelia’s insistence.

  “I appreciate you all coming to my rescue, but as you can see, I’m perfectly fine. Please don’t tell Maribel, Marcus, she’ll only worry needlessly. I’ll call Nipsy tomorrow and explain everything so he doesn’t flip out more than usual.”

  Uncertainty masked the four men’s wrathful faces. They weren’t ready to give up so easily. That would’ve meant admitting defeat, when the only thing these morons knew was winning, a noble tra
it they’d learned from Buck Calhoun. Marcus took a deep breath and approached Otelia. He towered over her, dark and menacing. My finger twitched on the trigger ready to blast this cunt if he so much as reached for his balls.

  “You don’t have to be his prisoner anymore, Odie. Come to the junkyard with us, where you belong, where you’d be safe. It’s the simplest thing in the world. Just walk away.”

  My heart thumped wildly inside my chest at the thought of losing her. If she was smart, she’d put me in her rearview and never look back. I wasn’t a catch. Being with me could mean a death sentence if O’Brien had his way. I prepared myself for the inevitable decision. Just like Bella.

  Otelia dipped her head and stared at the ground for a moment.

  Then she moved with steady purpose.

  At my side she stood, shoulder to shoulder. Bold as shit, unapologetic, chin held high.

  “I’m staying with Mac,” she announced, eyes on me. “He’s all the protection I need.”

  The junkyard fucks dispersed without fanfare, no opposition, no threats, not a single bullet fired. I wanted to beat on my chest and howl at the moon. Otelia chose me.

  I stared into her pretty face with utter certainty that she was mine. The one and only time I’d opened my heart and loved a woman unconditionally, she chose power.

  Otelia chose me.

  For her, I was enough.

  CHAPTER 34

  Otelia

  THE SECOND WE hit the penthouse, Mac pushed me up against the wall, lifted the skirt of my uniform, ripped off my thong, and fucked me senseless without delay. He did it brutally, savagely, and with the detached feeling of a man possessed.

  Perhaps it was all of that pent-up testosterone and bloodlust that drove him to lose control. He growled and grunted with abandon, marked and claimed, pushed me to the edge until I begged him to let me fall over. It felt amazingly liberating in the wake of all the violence we’d endured. My fear evaporated with every powerful thrust inside my soaking-wet pussy. I needed those flashes of unrestrained freedom as much as he did, maybe more so. It didn’t matter that he’d lied to my face about going home; I was right where I wanted to be, in his arms.

  Afterward, he took me to his bed, where he held me close, spooning me, as if I were precious to him in some way. That was the last thing I remembered before sleep pulled me under.

  I awoke alone surrounded by cold sheets and the distinct smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from somewhere nearby. Figured Mac was an early riser, whereas I preferred to sleep in as long as possible, beauty rest and all that. I eased from the mattress and stretched my arms to the heavens. My deliciously sore limbs protested against the slightest of movements, courtesy of ducking bullets and hardcore fucking. I covered my mouth to stifle a yawn, noticing for the first time that my cell phone sat languidly atop the nightstand. Gates.

  There hadn’t been a single day since his death that didn’t start without my need to replay his saved message. It was my weighted blanket during a thunderstorm, my fluffy teddy bear when I needed a friend, and my kick in the ass when all I wanted to do was quit. I knew in my heart it was time. Time to let him go and live without using his promise as a crutch instead of what it was meant to be.

  The dearest of wishes.

  A dying wish.

  Gates knew he wouldn’t be alive to see it through, but he’d wanted to leave me with one final gift, one I’d recklessly used without forethought. Love wasn’t something you searched for until you found it. If it was meant to be, love would find you. For years, I’d dated the wrong men, stuck around far too long when I should’ve been a ghost, gave away my heart and body even though they never deserved it. I’d dishonored his memory with my recklessness, but no more. I wasn’t ready to admit that Mac and I were headed in the love direction, but something had definitely changed between us.

  Immersed between kidnap victim and cherished lover lay the crux of our relationship. What I would admit to was wanting more. It’d been so long since I’d felt safe in a man’s arms, and one thing was for sure: I was safe with Mac. Gates would always hold a special place in my soul, along with the beloved child we’d both lost. As I looked over to my cell, I closed my eyes for a moment and thanked him. Thanked him for always being what I needed.

  I laid my hand over the plastic cover and whispered, “I love you, Gates. Always.”

  It was my tribute.

  My final goodbye.

  Bright light streaming through the window reminded me it was time to get my ass moving. This was my first occasion in Mac’s personal space, or more specifically, his rented hotel suite. It was typical, of course, functional without a hint of warmth, nonemotionally decorated, a temporary dwelling fit for a king. It revealed nothing about the man, his likes and dislikes, any small peek inside the ruthless mobster to help me gain a better understanding. I padded along the plush carpet with bare feet to his open closet filled with expensive suits, matching ties, and patent leather shoes. I grabbed a silk robe dangling from one of the hangers and threw it on. The soft material swallowed my small frame and dragged along the floor, but I needed coffee. To hell with how I looked. I crept outside determined to get my hands on the liquid gold and startled.

  “Good morning, sunshine.”

  Ferdi sat lazily on the sofa with a knowing smirk on his face. I hastily gathered the front of the robe before exposing my naked tits to the overgrown behemoth. Dressed in black from head to toe, gun strapped at his side, he reminded me of a character from a GI Joe movie.

  “Coffee?” he offered with a chin lift.

  “Good morning to you too, Ferdi.” I went for the carafe. “Where’s Mac?”

  “Oh…he’ll be along any minute.” He grinned. “Had some business to take care of, asked me to watch out for his girl until he returned.”

  His girl?

  I liked the sound of that.

  “Is that usual? Going out to handle business alone without…backup?” I asked.

  “Only when it’s personal, Odie,” he scoffed.

  I had no idea what that meant, and frankly, anything said pre-caffein was background noise. I poured myself a cup, forgoing the cream and sugar. Only black would do after the night I’d had. Immediate relief flew through my veins as the first sip coated my parched throat with warmth. The black high-back chair behind the mahogany desk was empty, so I took it. Ferdi was too busy typing away on his phone to pay me much attention, but there was something I needed to know.

  “The security guard at Nipsy’s,” I inquired. “Please tell me he’s alive.”

  Ferdi gave me his full attention.

  “He’s fine. Busted shoulder, but he should make a full recovery.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. That’s good news. I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what all of that was about?”

  “No can do, sweetheart. Darragh will fill you in on what he thinks you need to know. Until then, try not to worry your pretty little head about it.”

  Great.

  Two more sips, and I was starting to feel like myself again. Great coffee always did the trick. I caught Ferdi giving me the side eye with a curious look on his face. I decided to engage.

  “How long have you known Mac, Ferdi?”

  “Ohh…we go back a ways.” He smirked. “From playing in the sandbox, through acne and hard-ons, to the upstanding, tax paying citizens you see before you, Odie.”

  Real smooth, Ferdi.

  “It’s just that, you weren’t here that first time I visited. Were you on vacation or something?”

  “Or something,” he sidestepped.

  We fell into a comfortable silence, me with my coffee, him with his phone. I’d nearly finished my second cup when the door swung open to reveal a frazzled-looking Darragh MacCabe. I stifled a moan as I took in his Italian cut suit and crisp white shirt with the buttons undone at the neck. His eyes landed on mine from across the room, and I could swear my heart stopped beating. The intensity in his gaze, the need, and, dare I say, relief? F
erdi cleared his throat purposefully loudly and annoying as fuck till we broke our connection.

  “We good?” the cockblocker asked.

  “Not even close,” Mac replied cryptically. “We missed.”

  Something passed between them, a silent code which barred me from knowing what was really going on in their world. If I had to guess, I’d say Mac was losing ground where his business was concerned, a bitter pill to swallow for a man who was all about the Benjamins. O’Brien had convincingly played dumb in response to the fish incident, but I sure as shit believed he was the cause of the gunfight. He’d sent those fuckers to Nipsy’s to try and kill me, and for what? Well, that was something yet to be discovered. It was time I took the fight to his front door. Mac’s battle just became mine, and I looked forward to whooping O’Brien’s ass until he cried like a little bitch. He had no idea who he was fucking with.

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve just about had it with this small dick, money-grubbing, pickle dick in the ass, coward motherfucker to last a lifetime,” I blurted without taking a breath.

  “You used the word dick twice. Something on your mind, Odie?” Ferdi chuckled.

  Mac grunted as he pointed a finger towards his friend. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

  “Settle down, cowboy.” Ferdi sniggered.

  “I have an idea that’s guaranteed to smack the Samuel Adams out of Kellen O’Brien and send his ass back to Fenway Park with his dick in his hand,” I announced, way too hyped for this room full of doom. “If you don’t mind my inexperienced input.”

  Mac was taken aback by my outburst but granted me his ear with a slight tilt of his head.

  “That’s my cue to depart.” Ferdi stood from the couch, but I stopped him before he could leave.

  “No, stay. This involves you too,” I ordered with a stiff hand.

  We each took separate seats while I composed myself enough to speak. It wasn’t fear that parched my throat and sent shivers down my spine, but the high stakes of going all-in. I didn’t ask to be involved in any of this shit, but I’d be damned if I played victim to it either.