by Lane Hart
“Cain, Knox, why don’t you two stay here until we go see Liam and find out more about what’s going on?”
For all we know, the police are still looking for accomplices and could decide to broadcast the video.
“Yeah, okay,” Knox agrees since he knows there’s a big red bullseye on him specifically.
“Keys?” I ask Cain.
“Right,” he says. Reaching into his jean pocket, he pulls a set free and holds them out to me. “Paid two thousand in cash for an old van on a used lot. Thought it might come in handy for Knox’s kid and shit,” Cain tells us with a half-smile.
I wince before I even look over and see the fallen expression on Knox’s face. “Sort of a sore spot right now,” I warn Cain now that all of this is going down. And it’s my fault for dragging Knox into it. Even if the police give up on the search, things with the detective will likely still be contentious.
“Her phone is disconnected,” Knox tells us with a frown. “Jade’s already changed her fucking number.”
“Sorry, man,” I tell him with a squeeze of my hand on his shoulder. “You know where she lives, right?” I ask him.
“Yeah, but I need to get there fast. Knowing her, she may be in the process of moving,” he grumbles.
“You can find her and talk to her as soon as all this shit cools down,” I assure him.
“Now I know exactly what the saying baby mama drama means,” Knox mutters as he walks over and slumps down on the sofa. “Will you at least try and find out where the fuck her car is and try to get it back to the police station?”
“Yeah, sure. Just stay out of trouble for now, and I’ll call with any updates,” I tell him as I practically carry a still sobbing Maylin to the bedroom where I help her change into her clothes, and then we’re out the door. I get her up and buckled in the ancient, teal conversion van parked in the driveway. Surprisingly, the interior is in pretty decent shape, even if it is older than me.
Standing in the open passenger doorway, I cup the sides of Maylin’s damp face to make her look at me while I try to figure out what to say to her. Everything is gonna be fine would only be a lie. We’ll figure this out and get your dad out in no time is too. If Liam confessed, then there’s nothing else we can do. Not coming up with any honest words of encouragement, I just tell her, “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“It-it’s my fault,” she stammers.
“No, it’s not,” I tell her, leaning inside the car to hug her again, to try and comfort her. “You never asked to get dragged into any of this shit.”
“No, but-but I called him…I called him a coward!” she sobs.
“What are you talking about?”
“Daddy wanted us to leave…to take the car…last night,” she answers between hiccups.
“Just you and him?” I ask.
She nods as she wipes her tears on her shirt sleeve.
“But you didn’t want to go?”
Her head shakes, sending her mane of hair around. Pieces fall into her face, so I push it back behind her ears on each side.
“Let’s go try and find him so we can figure out what he was thinking,” I tell her before I kiss her cheek and close her door.
On the way back to town, Maylin and I are both silent. I know we’re both thinking the same thing, though — Why the fuck did her father do this?
…
By the time we get to the police station and walk inside, Maylin’s tears have slowed down and mostly dried up. After talking to a grumpy woman through a window and giving her our names and photo IDs to put down on the visitor list, we’re told to sit down and wait for them to call us back.
“He’s screwed, isn’t he?” Maylin whispers to me while we wait.
Grabbing her hand, I intertwine her fingers with mine and tell her the truth. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t look good if he gave them a confession.”
Maylin gives me a nod and turns her face away, but not before I see her chin trembling. I spot a box of tissues on a side table, so I get up and grab the whole box to bring it back to her.
“Thanks,” she says when she takes it.
Since her hands are both holding the box, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer, wishing I could do more for her or figure out what to say. When she rests her head on my shoulder, I feel better knowing that at least I can be here for her. Guess that’s all I can do right now.
A tall man in a blue guard uniform steps out of the heavy door that only opens from the inside. Looking down at the clipboard in his hands, he says, “O’Donnell visitors?”
“That’s us,” I tell him as I pull Maylin to her feet.
“Right this way,” he instructs us.
Inside the back hallway, we’re taken to a metal detector where we have to empty our pockets and go through one at a time. After we’re cleared, the guard leads us down another maze of hallways until we’re standing in a long, rectangular room with a clear plastic divider down the middle and red telephone on either side.
“Have a seat and he’ll be right out,” the guard says. “And just like the signs say,” he points to the wall of rules and warnings. “All conversations are recorded.”
“Thanks,” I tell him as he goes to sit behind a desk in the corner of the room.
A handful of people are spread out, some talking on the phones, others waiting like us.
“Come on,” I tell Maylin whose wide, emerald eyes look a little shell-shocked when I grab her gently around her elbow and lead her over to two empty chairs next to each other.
It takes a few minutes before we see movement on the other side of the partition. A steel door opens, and then in comes Liam wearing an orange jumpsuit, his wrists handcuffed together and connected to a chain that goes down and attaches to the cuffs around his ankles.
“Oh, my God! Daddy?” Maylin gasps and places her palm on the glass, clearly upset seeing him this way.
Two guards walk Liam over to a chair on his side of the glass from us. Watching as the usually confident man lowers his glassy eyes, I know that it can’t be easy for him to see his daughter from that side of the fence.
Since Maylin seems paralyzed with emotion, I pick up the phone and put it up to her ear. A moment later, Liam manages to do the same on his side even with the handcuffs.
“Hi, sweetie,” he says loud enough that I can hear it while watching his lips move.
“Daddy, why?” Maylin asks before the tears come rushing back.
“This is what I should’ve done the moment that son of a bitch came to me asking for you,” Liam tells her, then looks at me. “I’m where I belong.”
“No, you’re not!” Maylin exclaims. “What were you thinking?”
“I had an agreement with the district attorney before I confessed,” Liam tells her. “I worked alone and no one else will be prosecuted in exchange for my signed confession.”
In other words, Liam made a deal that the police wouldn’t come after Knox, Cain or me… I can’t believe he did that. He doesn’t know any of us or owe us anything. If he were smart, with the amount of money he has, he should’ve headed straight to the airport, got the hell out of Dodge, and never looked back.
But he didn’t.
When Liam glances over at me again, I mouth the words thank you, and he gives a single nod.
“So…so that’s it?” Maylin asks through her sniffles. “You’ll be in there forever?”
“Afraid so, sweetie,” I hear Liam say into the phone with a frown. “But you know what? It’s somewhat of a relief to be here. I won’t have to watch my back or worry about when I’ll get caught doing something I shouldn’t. I’m surprised I didn’t end up here sooner…”
Tossing the phone down on the counter, Maylin jumps up from her seat and walks out of the room. I get to my feet and start to follow when I hear a bang. Looking over my shoulder, I see Liam banging on the partition with his fist and motioning toward the phone.
Figuring Maylin could probably use a moment alone, I go back over and
sit down to pick up the receiver.
Putting it up to my ear, I say, “Thank –” but Liam interrupts.
“You owe me, so first of all, you’re gonna take care of my girl for me,” he demands through narrowed eyes.
“Of course,” I tell him.
“Howard Westing is my lawyer. He’s preparing my power of attorney papers that will give Maylin access to everything I own so she won’t have to worry about money,” Liam says. “You’ll need to take her to his office and have her sign them before he brings them to me.”
“Okay, Howard Westing. I’ll take her first thing Monday morning,” I tell him, committing the name to memory.
“Secondly, stay out of trouble! Do you hear me?” he asks through clenched teeth.
“Yes, sir,” I quickly agree.
“Will you just, you know, try and convince her to forgive me?” he says with a sigh as he blinks away the moisture in his tired eyes.
“I’m pretty sure that there’s nothing to forgive. She’s not angry with you, just sad and shocked,” I assure him. “Why did you do it?” I ask.
“Because my daughter was right — I was a coward, letting other men do my dirty work when I should’ve done it myself. I couldn’t have lived with myself if she or anyone else suffered for my decisions,” he says. “Besides, Maylin never would have forgiven me if I had run.”
“You’re a good man,” I tell him. “And I won’t let you down.”
“You better not,” he warns sternly. “Which brings me to my final demand.”
“Anything,” I assure him since he saved me and my friends’ asses from a life prison sentence.
“You have to tell everyone who you really are. That’s the only way the Italians will still honor the merger with the Irish…”
“Who I am?” I repeat with my brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m nobody.”
“You’re Jimmy Russo’s son, heir to his empire now,” he explains.
“Technically, maybe. But no one in the Italian organization knows that,” I point out.
“They do now,” he says with a grin. “I’ve already spread the news in here. Most of the Italians hated Russo but were scared of him. They still respect bloodlines though. You’re a strong young guy they can get behind.”
“Wait, what?” I ask.
“When you marry Maylin, you’ll be at the top of the Italian and Irish hierarchy,” he says.
“What are you saying? That...that you want me to take over the mafia?”
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do. Someone has to run things while I’m in here, and I don’t trust any of my guys. I definitely don’t trust the Italians,” Liam replies. “And you’re going to do this for me because I took the heat off of you and your boys.”
“No way,” I say with an adamant shake of my head. “You just said to stay out of trouble. The Irish and Italians are nothing but trouble.”
“Sorry,” Liam says. “Guess I should’ve said don’t fucking get caught.”
My jaw is still hanging open when he tells me, “Have a public ceremony and make it official. I’ll give you three days to bring me the marriage certificate.”
“Three days! You can’t be serious,” I tell him. “Maylin’s too young to get married. She’s not ready for any of this, and you can’t keep putting her in this position!”
“Three days or I’ll start talking…” he threatens. “But make no mistake, I’m still in charge. To everyone else, you may wear the metaphorical crown; but from now on, you’ll only be doing what I tell you to do as payback for saving your asses. Understood?”
Jesus fucking Christ.
I am so goddamned screwed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Maylin
When I come out of the restroom in the jail’s lobby, Ivan’s standing there waiting for me, looking a little pale.
“Sorry I ran off,” I tell him when I walk up to him. “Guess it was all just too much to take in right now.”
“No. Yeah. I get it,” Ivan mutters. “Ready to go?” he asks.
“Um, I guess,” I say after he turns and marches right out the door without waiting for my response. “Do you think he’s okay?” I ask when I jog to catch up to Ivan on the way to the van.
“Seemed like it,” he replies as he opens the passenger door for me to climb up inside. “Actually, he was doing better than I expected…”
“Really?” I ask, but Ivan’s already shut the door in my face to walk around to the driver's side of the van. He climbs up into his seat, puts his hands on the steering wheel, and then just stares out the windshield.
“Are you all right?” I ask him, since he’s acting off.
“No,” he answers without ending his thousand-yard stare with the car in front of us.
“What? Why not?” I say in concern.
“Your dad just threatened me.”
“Huh?” I ask.
“He’s insisting that I become his successor…and Jimmy’s.”
“Successor?” I repeat. “Successor of what…Oh!” I exclaim in understanding. “Are you sure he wasn’t joking…”
“No, he was dead serious, Maylin. In fact, he told me we had to get married within three days or he was gonna start talking, meaning he’s gonna bring me, Knox, and Cain down with him.”
“Oh God,” I mutter clutching my chest as the bigger picture of what killing Jimmy Russo means…the alliance between the Italians and Irish rested on a union, my union with a Russo. Without it, and with my father locked up, there will be a free for all on the territory. Which means a lot of bloodshed, bodies piling up, all because Ivan sought his revenge for his mother. I don’t blame him, but my father apparently does. Now, Daddy’s insisting that Ivan make amends…by marrying me.
Once again, I’m nothing but a pawn, but this time is different. I care about Ivan. More than that, I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with him. Being married to him wouldn’t be a travesty, and it would save a lot of lives.
“Fucking hell,” Ivan mutters still staring straight ahead out the glass. “Now I’m trapped in not just one mafia but two! If the Irish don’t kill me, the Italians will if they find out I betrayed them!”
“It’s not as bad or scary as you think it is,” I assure him.
“It’s not scary?” Ivan scoffs. “Your father is now the scariest SOB I know! And why aren’t you more upset? Yet again he’s forcing you to marry someone to save his ass!”
“Considering who I was supposed to marry before, you’re a piece of cake…”
“What the fuck am I gonna do?” Ivan asks when he finally faces me, wide-eyed and frantic. “I don’t want to be the king of gangsters!”
Tilting my head to the side, I look over at him in consideration and say, “Yeah, I could see it. You’re a big, strong guy, tall, dark, and handsome. If you were wearing a zoot suit and hat, you would be the picture-perfect mob boss.”
“This isn’t funny, Maylin,” Ivan huffs.
A giggle slips from my lips before I slap my palm up to catch it. “You have to admit that it sort of is.”
“No, it’s not,” he argues. “I’m Jimmy Russo’s son. I grew up in Scarfone’s house. I fought for Mario. I know what those guys are like, and I don’t want to end up being hated like they were or getting myself locked up or killed!”
“Mobsters are notoriously loyal,” I tell him. “And you killed Jimmy, not one of his men,” I remind him. “Wasn’t it Cain or Gabby who took down Mario?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“And Scarfone? What happened to him?” I inquire about the guy who was in charge years ago.
“He got arrested on kidnapping and murder charges!” Ivan replies.
“How? A police bust? His guys talked?”
“No,” he says. “If I remember the story from the news correctly, I think it had something to do with that famous IFC fighter from Havoc. Linc Abrams and his crew took him down.”
“See,” I tell him. “You don’t have to worry about the men who follo
w you, just outsiders like you. Apparently, fighters are a mob boss’s worst enemy, so you should probably stay away from them. Sucks for your friends,” I tease.
“Stop smiling. This isn’t funny,” Ivan snaps.
“Seriously, though,” I start, reaching over to stroke his arm. “If someone has to run the underground, wouldn’t it be best if that person was you and not someone dangerous like another Jimmy? Another Mario or Scarfone?”
“Sure, yes,” he replies. “But that person isn’t me!”
“I think it is, and apparently so does my father. Ivan, you’re so brave and smart. I know you can figure out how to make this work.”
The fact is, if my father has ordered it, he means business. So, if Ivan doesn’t comply within three days, my dad will rat, and Ivan will end up in prison, along with his friends, Knox and Cain. I refuse to let that happen to these three great guys.
“Liam’s fucking insane,” Ivan says. “I mean, yes, I’m grateful that he turned himself in and all, but I had no clue he was doing it to try and manipulate me.”
“My father likes you,” I tell him. “He must if he gave you permission to marry me and take over his empire.”
“He was gonna let Jimmy marry you too,” Ivan points out.
“Right, but that was based on coercion. I’m actually a little proud of my father for turning himself in and then picking you. He knows that I like you and would agree, otherwise he never would have asked…”
“You can’t really be on board with all of this,” Ivan snaps. “Have you lost your mind too?”
“No, it just makes sense to keep the peace on both sides. I get it,” I tell him. “I really hate that my dad is locked up, but he’s committed tons of petty crimes in his lifetime. So, if anyone deserves prison, it’s him, not you or Cain or Knox. Although, I would rather he not be in there either.”
“He’s blackmailing me. The son of a bitch is blackmailing me,” Ivan says.
“Yes, and my father is a man of his word,” I point out. “How long before we have to get hitched? Three days?” I ask. “My dress is crammed in my suitcase back at the safe house. Bet I could hang it and steam the wrinkles out.”