Bloody Union

by Brooke Summers

  BLOODY UNION

  BOOK 1 IN THE MADE SERIES

  BROOKE SUMMERS

  Contents

  Copyright

  Books by Brooke:

  For Erin

  Prologue

  1. Dante

  2. Dante

  3. Makenna

  4. Makenna

  5. Dante

  6. Makenna

  7. Dante

  8. Makenna

  9. Dante

  10. Dante

  11. Makenna

  12. Dante

  13. Makenna

  14. Dante

  15. Makenna

  16. Dante

  17. Makenna

  18. Dante

  19. Dante

  20. Makenna

  Epilogue

  What’s next?

  All the ways you can follow Brooke.

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  First Edition published in 2020

  Text Copyright © Brooke Summers

  All rights reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  * * *

  Cover Design by Under Cover Designs.

  Formatter Author Bunnies.

  Editing by Edits By Erin.

  Proofread by Author Bunnies.

  * * *

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without the prior written permission of the author. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Books by Brooke:

  Forbidden Lust

  Dangerous Secrets

  Forever Love

  * * *

  The Made Series:

  * * *

  Bloody Union

  Unexpected Union

  * * *

  Standalones:

  * * *

  Saving Reli

  For Erin

  There’s not enough words to say how very lucky I am to have you in my life. Not only an amazing editor, but also my friend.

  Prologue

  Makenna

  There's a slight tremble to my hands but I try hiding it. The Famiglia are in my father’s office, the Capo sits in front of my father. His son, the Capo Bastone sits beside him, while his brothers stand behind them, all of them tense and ready to start killing if need be.

  The darkening of Dante's eyes tells me that he's seen my hands tremble. My breath hitches as I take in his gorgeous green eyes, the sadistic grin and the dark stubble that surrounds it. "Makenna," he says and I raise my eyes to his.

  "Makenna..." my father says and I turn my gaze to him. His tone is harsher than it usually is with me and I know that it's due to the men that are sitting in his office. My father is head of the Ceannaire ar chách, the Irish Mafia here in New York. He has been since my grandfather took a bullet to the heart from the Bratva. He was lucky and survived; I don’t know how. Granda says that no way on this earth were the Russian’s going to be his downfall. He’s living life to the fullest in Dublin, Ireland where he’s the head of the Mafia. "Matteo Bianchi..."

  My body tenses, I hate the Capo, have since I was twelve years old.

  Nobody knows about my hatred of Matteo and no one ever will. I know the consequences of what will happen if anyone finds out the truth about that night.

  My father carries on talking, "And I have agreed that our families being bonded is the only way to guarantee peace." I hide the scoff, this is absolute bullshit, there's no way that anything can be guaranteed. It'll be put on hold for a while, but something is bound to piss one of them off at some stage and then all hell will break loose. "You and Dante will marry."

  I grit my teeth, I knew one day I'd have to marry, it's the way our world works. A woman in the Mafia doesn't have the life like a normal woman, we're to be seen and not heard. We're to be at the beck and call of our father and then our husband. I've been lucky, my father isn't a monster to his family, unlike some of his men. From what I've heard most of the made men beat their women and children to submit to their wishes. Break the woman so they won't disobey them.

  I take a deep breath. "Yes, father." My gaze moves to my brothers who are standing in the corner of the office, they are looking at me with a weird expression. Did they think I'd object? I've not got a death wish. I'm not stupid. I'd never disrespect my father, not in front of his men and definitely not in front of men that are our enemies.

  My father nods his head, "You are fourteen, Makenna, and the wedding will take place when you are of age." His tone is darker once again, this isn't for my benefit, this is for the Famiglia.

  "Of course," Dante says harshly.

  Matteo shakes his head, "As soon as you're of age, we'll have the wedding." He turns his gaze to me, "You can go."

  My brothers tense, their hands on their guns, all of them eager to be the one to shoot him. There’s no love lost there and the tension in the room becomes thick.

  "Makenna, go to your mother." My father demands and I hold back the protest. I give my brothers a smile as I leave the office.

  My mother is waiting for me in the living room. Her hands by her side and a smile on her face. She rushes over to me. "You're finally getting married," she says and to anyone else it would be as though she's congratulating me. To me, I know better, she's been waiting for this day for a long time. Waiting for me to leave the house where she knows that the secret I carry will no longer risk being spilled.

  One

  Dante

  The looks I get as I walk into the bar are nothing unusual. The women's eyes are full of arousal, want and fear and the men’s are either full of fear and respect, or fear and hatred. It's always been like this, since I was twelve, when I had my first kill. The fucker had it coming, he had his knife to my mother’s neck, by the time my bullet had entered the asshole’s head my mother had her throat slit. The next day, I became a made man.

  "Dante," Alessio my youngest brother growls and I smirk when I see three of the Irish Mafia men sitting at the bar. "Fucking hate those Irish bastards."

  "We're at peace now," I tell him, even though I'd love nothing more than to put a fucking bullet in their brains.

  He scoffs, "Please don't tell me you believe that shit."

  Of fucking course I don't. "Do I look like I'm stupid?"

  He laughs, "No, but then again, you're marrying the Gallagher girl."

  The mention of her name has my gut tightening. I've not seen her in five years. Seamus Gallagher, the Ceannaire ar chách, the head of the Irish Mafia here in New York, thinks he's the leader of all; hell, he's not even the leader of New York. That would be us. He's managed to keep his daughter out of all the rags and newspapers. Not a fucking picture of her anywhere, not even online. I feel like I'm walking in blind.

  "I am."

  Tomorrow I'll see her again, and in three days, we'll be married. Fuck.

  One of the Irish men lifts their cell to their ear, not once have they taken their eyes off of me. I smirk, I don't give a fuck if they're on edge that we're here. When he puts his cell in his pocket I raise my brow, "What's the matter, boys?" I grin as their bodies tense. "We're going to be family soon." I'm taunting them and they fall into the trap, their fingers edging closer to their guns. "Reach for them and I'll rip your fucking heads off." I grit as I walk toward them. Their eyes narrow, but they're not quick enough to hide the fear that seeps into th
em. I know they see the demons that lurk in my eyes, the darkness that stalks my heels. It’s a darkness that wouldn’t have me hesitating to kill each and every one of them, and I'd do it without remorse.

  "We're here for a drink, not to kill you." The threat of ‘yet’ hangs in the air as Seamus walks up behind me.

  "You'll not be harmed while you're in my establishment." His Irish brogue is thick as he walks over to his three men. "Why aren't you at the airport?"

  They straighten their backs, the respect shining in their eyes. "Boss, she told us that she wasn't arriving until morning."

  Seamus narrows his eyes, "Finish your drinks, we're leaving."

  They're instantly on edge, something is going on and I’m not sure what.

  "Need any help?" I ask quietly and Seamus grins. "I’ll take that as a no. But if you change your mind, you've got my number."

  He nods, "I'll see you tomorrow, Dante." Just as I thought, he wouldn't ever accept my help. It would be seen as weak. "Enjoy your evening." There's a reproach in his voice, is he warning me to behave? I grin darkly at him, I’m not a man who can be controlled. I'll do whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want.

  Romero slides beside me, his face deadpan but I know him, he's boiling with rage as we watch the Irish leave.

  "Not now," I warn him.

  "It'll be a bloody wedding yet." He grins.

  There's not been a bloody wedding in the Famiglia for over a decade. "They won't start a war, not at a wedding."

  He raises a brow, "You sure about that?"

  I glare at him, of course I'm not fucking sure. But they'd be dead by the end of it. "Fuck, I need a drink."

  "You need to get your dick wet."

  I grit my teeth, trying not to kill my brother.

  "You never know when to shut the fuck up do you, Romero?" Alessio grins.

  Romero shrugs, "I'm going to die someday."

  I ignore their stupidity and turn my eyes to the women that are around the bar, some have their heads down, others giving me the fuck me eyes. None of them hold my attention for very long.

  Romero lets out a low whistle. "Fucking finally," he mutters and my gaze follows his where two women have just walked into the bar. There's a busty brunette who's wearing a tight pink dress and matching heels, but it's her friend that I'll be fucking by the end of the night. Black leather pants look as though they've been painted onto her, black boots that reach her knee and a red fucking top that clings to every curve of her body. Her blonde hair is curled, falling around her neck and down past her breasts. Both walk in as though they own the place, heads held high as they saunter toward the bar. The barman's eyes widen but he serves them.

  They find a corner in the bar and stay there, the girls don't care about the appreciative looks that they're getting. Not once have they glanced around the bar to see who's here. Fucking stupid.

  "How the hell are they not surrounded by now?" Alessio muses and I agree, not that I'd admit it. They've been left alone even though their beauty by far outshines any other women.

  The night wears on and the women haven't so much as looked at anyone in the bar. It's pissing Romero off that they haven't glanced at him, he wants the brunette.

  My hand reaches for my gun when I hear a man growl, "Bitch!" Three fucking Russians stalk toward the women. I'm slightly impressed that both women stand and glare at the Bratva bastards. Fucking hell, they have a death wish.

  One of the Russians backhand the brunette viciously making her fall backward to the floor. The blonde woman steps forward and raises her brow. Jesus Christ. The hum of bikes is in the far distance. I watch as she tells the Russian that he's a dead man, before one of the other Russians punches her in the ribs, knocking the breath from her lungs. She doesn't back down, she stands tall and glares at the Russians.

  Alessio, Romero, and I get to our feet, I notice the barman is tense, his eyes on the girls. The rumble of bikes grow closer, they're outside. Within seconds, eight fucking bikers walk in. The women sigh and turn to the door where the bikers have their eyes on them, the blonde steps back, whereas the brunette takes a step toward them.

  "Which one?" the biker asks and the brunette smirks as she slides her eyes to the guy that backhanded her. "Time for you to go home," he tells her and she nods, the blonde steps toward her and they walk past us. One of the bikers grabs a hold of the blonde’s arm and pulls her toward him. "You good?" he asks, his eyes taking her in and for some reason I want to rip his fucking hand of her.

  She steps out of his hold. "No worries, Ace, I'm grand," she says with her thick velvety Irish accent.

  "You sure."

  She nods. "Positive."

  The biker regards her closely, "Time for you to go on home." I can't make out the blonde's reaction to his demand but I see the smirk on his face. "Before your brothers catch you here."

  Her bell like laughter rings out and I feel it in my gut. What the fuck is going on? "Come on, Kinsley," the blonde laughs, "before your brother starts to lecture us."

  The biker grins as the girls leave the bar. His eyes narrow in on me, a warning in his eyes. He nods to his brothers and they pick up the asshole that backhanded his sister and the other two fuckers that are with him.

  "What the fuck was that about?" Romero asks as he makes his way out of the bar behind the bikers.

  I have no fucking idea.

  "Are you ready for this?" Romero asks and I glare at him.

  "Of course he's ready," my father says and I shift my glare to him, unlike my brother he doesn't back down. "War between the families has been going on for decades, this wedding is finally a way to bring peace." It's a warning. He's telling me not to fuck up.

  "I know my duty, Father," I say through clenched teeth.

  "The wedding is in three days, Dante. One mistake and we'll pay dearly."

  I don't answer him, instead I keep my gaze firmly in front of me. Seamus, Finn, Patrick, and Cian Gallagher stand at their door, all of their eyes on us. Seamus glares at my father, whereas the Gallagher brother’s death glares are aimed at me.

  "Do they really think they can out shoot us?" Alessio comments as he takes in the guards that surround the monstrosity of the Gallagher Mansion. The Fucking Irish don't do things small by any means. They're flashy assholes.

  Our father gives Alessio a harsh look, we've seen that look a thousand times. It doesn't work on any of us. Not anymore. "Enough of your shit," he demands.

  We walk toward the Gallagher's, none of us are happy about this but right now, we've got to deal with it. "Gentleman," Seamus calls out and I grit my teeth.

  "Where is she?" My father asks, with a bite to his tone.

  Christ.

  "She'll be here soon. Right now, we've got some things to iron out." Seamus' eyes are hard as he glares at my father.

  As Capo, my father leads. I, as his capo bastone, or Underboss as most call it, follow. Although, if I have anything to say about it, Romero will be my capo bastone when I become the Capo. My father's time has come to an end and it's only a matter of time before he meets his. My father is a monster, we all are; it’s who we are. But unlike my father, I'm not a fucking monster to those closest to me. I protect those that are and retaliate against those that hurt them.

  My father nods, that's his signal that we're to follow the Gallagher's into the lion’s den. My father first, followed closely behind by me and then my brothers, our men hidden around the perimeter of the Gallagher mansion. Seamus and his sons lead us toward his office. I haven't been here since we agreed that I'd marry his only daughter, Makenna. She was fourteen when I last saw her, over five years ago. She was small and scrawny, pretty in an innocent way but I didn't pay too much attention. I'm not into kids and Makenna certainly was a child. I'm curious to see how she's changed.

  Seamus opens the door to his office and I see that nothing’s changed since I was here last. The huge mahogany desk takes up half the fucking office. Yet again, it makes me wonder why they have to try and be so fla
shy, are they trying to make up for something?

  My father takes a seat and I take the one beside him, both my brothers and the Gallagher brothers continue to stand.

  "This is a waste of our time," my father grits out. We had come under the impression that we'd be seeing Makenna today, instead, we're going into his office to fucking chitchat.

  "My daughter’s well-being—" Seamus begins, "—is not a waste of time," he growls. This is the first time that I've seen this side to him. Usually he's calm and composed. Sitting across from me now isn't the Ceannaire ar chách, instead he's a dangerous man who's determined to make sure that I look after his daughter.

  This should be fun.

  "Are you trying to insinuate that my son won't be a gentleman?"

  I glance to my side where Romero is standing, a smile tugging on his lips. My name and the words gentleman don't belong in the same sentence. I'm anything but, and if Seamus thinks telling his daughter that will help, he's sorely fucking mistaken.

  "Like Dante knows what being a gentleman consists of," Finn growls.

  These men are playing a dangerous game, they've shown us their ultimate weakness and by doing so, they've shown us where to target them if need be.