by B. B. Hamel
“Might as well,” he said with a shrug.
I rolled my eyes and shoved my gun back into my waistband before turning. Ash stood there, mouth open, eyes wide, skin completely pale. She couldn’t stop looking at the bodies, and she backed away from me when I approached.
“It’s okay,” I said softly. “It was them. Those were the ones that tried to hurt you.”
“You killed them,” she said.
I grabbed her wrists and held them tight. “This is who I am,” I said, looking into her horrified eyes. “You want to come into my world? Then you’ll have to accept what I do.”
“We gotta go, boss,” Tomaso said, leaping over the counter again. “Hate to interrupt this lovely moment, but the cops are gonna be here soon.” He hustled out the door and stood holding it open. “Coast is clear though.”
“Ash,” I said, holding her harder. “This is it. You know that.”
“I know.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “God, I know, but seeing it—”
“We gotta go,” Tomaso said, and his tone shot a nerve of urgency through me. “Right fucking now.”
I pulled Ash and sprinted out after him. Tomaso ran hard to my truck as an SUV came screaming up the block. It slammed on its brakes and smashed into a parked car before one of the windows rolled open.
I shoved Ash down as gunfire slammed into my truck all around us. I dragged her to the side, putting the truck between us and the attackers. Tomaso had the door open, and he squeezed in. I shoved Ash in after him, then came up and returned fire at the SUV.
I couldn’t see anyone inside. Tomaso fired from the back seat, and the guy shooting dropped back. I dove across Ash and got behind the wheel, sitting down low as Tomaso continued to shoot. His magazine went empty and he cursed, his gun clicking. The Healys started shooting again, but I had the engine running. I pulled the truck forward, driving wildly, swiping across the cars in front of us, swerving around the road, but going fast. I flew through a stop sign before getting control of the truck and started doing some fast and evasive turns to make sure that we weren’t being followed.
“Are you okay?” I asked, putting a hand on Ash’s arm. She was hiding down on the floor at the base of the seat. “You can get up now.”
She climbed back up, shaking, and curled into a ball, hugging her knees.
“That was fucking awesome,” Tomaso said, laughing wildly. “Did you see that shit, boss? Holy fucking shit. The way you snuffed those guys out. Then that getaway driving? Oh, fuck, this is amazing.”
I gave him a sharp look but he kept grinning. Psycho Tomaso couldn’t help himself. I drove through West Philly, crossed the bridge to South Street, and stopped in front of a friendly bar.
“Tomaso, get out,” I said.
He saluted me. “It was a pleasure, boss,” he said. “And Ash, well done.” He kicked open the back door and got out. When he shut it again, I pulled out, heading back to my place.
Ash didn’t say a word. I should’ve left her behind, but I wanted her to see that. I needed her to understand what she was getting into. This mafia shit wasn’t all fun and games. It wasn’t a bunch of cheeky pranks where we smashed some furniture and broke some bottles.
It was life and death. I killed them. It was part of who I was, and if she was going to come into my world and stay here, she had to understand.
I parked the truck and got out. The side was riddled with bullets. I’d have to get that shit fixed, but it could wait. For now, I opened Ash’s door and carried her inside. I took her into the bathroom, started the bath water, and placed her down on the floor.
She let me undress her. I did my best to be as business-like as I could. Once she was naked, I got her in the water, and she stretched out with a sigh. She blinked at me, shaking her head from side to side like she couldn’t believe where she was.
“Why?” she asked, and so much was packed into that question.
I took her hand and held it, and kept my eyes on hers. “Because I want you to understand,” I said. “And I need you to know what kind of man I really am.”
She seemed to accept that. She sank deeper into the water and I sat with her, holding her hand in silence, until she was ready to get out again.
17
Ash
I felt like I was rushing headlong into a brick wall with no way to stop.
I kept seeing Gian kill those guys over and over. Every time I closed my eyes, I’d see him pull that trigger without flinching, like it wasn’t a big deal to murder people. I knew Gian was a monster, but seeing him act like that—it scared the hell out of me.
I didn’t leave my room at all the next day. Gian didn’t push me—he kept the door shut, and I only slipped out into the kitchen when I knew he’d gone for the day. I stared at the ceiling, trying to come to grips with what I’d witnessed and running myself in circles like a dog chasing its tail.
Except in this instance, I was chasing my desire for this deadly gangster, while being terrified about what kind of monster I’d become if I let myself get sucked deeper into his world.
That night, I had to do something. I couldn’t sit around feeling sorry for myself, so I flipped through my contacts on my phone and started sending out some texts. I had friends in the city and some of them I’d known for a really long time, and some part of me hoped that seeing someone from my past might somehow reconnect whatever part of my humanity I’d managed to lose ever since getting pregnant with Gian’s baby.
Fortunately, Cleo got back to me almost right away. We went to prep school together and stayed friends through college, but we hadn’t seen each other much lately. She lived in a condo with her boyfriend, who was apparently out of town, and agreed to meet me downtown at Monk’s Cafe.
I got dressed and hurried out of Gian’s place. I was so anxious that I might run into him that I forgot to lock the door behind me and had to double back before practically jogging eight blocks. Monk’s was a long building with a black roof that was made to look like some ancient Bavarian pub. The inside was quiet and dim, though the small bar was packed. I spotted Cleo in the back sitting at a booth with uncomfortably narrow wooden benches.
Cleo was a pretty girl with thin blonde hair and wide, bright blue eyes. She stood and squealed and kissed my cheek and made all the appropriate noises about how we hadn’t seen each other in forever, and oh, my god, I looked so good and skinny, and god, wasn’t she so gross and fat now that she had a gorgeous boyfriend that was going to propose soon, and did she mention that she went ring shopping with him recently and he made partner at his law firm and they’re rich and happy and perfect.
“So what’s up with you?” she asked, beaming, as the waitress returned with her beer and a glass of water for me.
“Not a lot,” I said. “I’ve been a little adrift lately, if I’m honest.”
“Oh, girl, don’t worry about that,” Cleo said, waving a hand. She wore twenty different gold bracelets and they jangled like a janitor’s keyring. Her clothes were expensive and designer and fit her like a dream. “I think everyone’s a little lost in their twenties, right?”
“You don’t seem to be,” I said. “And a lot of the girls from prep have jobs or boyfriends or something.”
She rolled her eyes. “If you’re talking about Katie Mathis then that bitch can go to hell.”
I hadn’t thought about Katie Mathis in almost a decade. “What’d she do?” I asked.
Cleo launched in some petty story about wearing the same outfit to a party and talking shit about each other and as I listened, I realized something with a horrible, startling clarity.
She hadn’t changed a bit. Cleo was always like this, even back in school: catty, chatty, and ready to dish. We’d never been great friends, mostly because Cleo never had any true friends. She gossiped way too much for that and nobody ever trusted her. I realized this meeting was going to make the rounds all over the place, and I tried to guess what she’d say.
Poor Ashleigh seems super pathetic, like doesn’t even d
rink, no boyfriend, no job, like, all she has is her family name and that’s not even so impressive anymore these days.
It made me want to puke.
“And, ugh, okay, so she got this little dog, and she totally named it Max!” Cleo threw her hands up and stared at me like I should be completely appalled.
“Sorry,” I said. “Max?” I grinned sheepishly.
“That was totally my name,” Cleo said. “Like back in school? I told everyone I wanted to name my first baby Max! Either Maximus or Maxine, depending on the sex, and then that crazy psycho bitch named her dog Max, and now I can’t name my baby after her dog, right?”
“Right,” I said, nodding slightly, and resisted the temptation to touch my belly. I hadn’t even thought about names yet, and I didn’t have all that much more time to figure it out.
In fact, I hadn’t thought about anything, and suddenly it felt very real.
I let Cleo keep talking. She went on about old friends and acquaintances, about who makes a lot of money, who mooches off their family, and who is sleeping around. She finished a beer, ordered a wine, made some sideways comment about me not drinking with her, and kept going on and on about people I hadn’t thought about in years.
It was exhausting. And I used to be like that.
Gian hadn’t changed me. I was already changing before him, slowly drifting away from this vapid, empty obsessing with social standing and what everyone else was doing around me. I’d already started that trend anyway, but he accelerated it and made it so much more intense.
I felt like I had nothing in common with Cleo anymore, and it scared me.
For as long as I could remember, I wanted a life just like hers. She had a boyfriend, they made their own money, and she had a job at some little boutique marketing firm that specialized in dog adoption agencies. She had a life and was going to get married soon, and I was jealous of that.
By contrast, I was pregnant by a mobster and had no clue what was going to happen to me in two hours, let alone by the time the baby came.
And yet the idea of going back to that world scared me even more than staying with Gian. He was a killer, a straight-up murdering monster, but at least he was honest about himself. He never lied to me, never acted like he was better than me, and didn’t care about what the world thought of him.
It was liberating and beautiful.
Cleo was empty and terrible.
And I hated myself for thinking that. I wanted Cleo’s life and I wished I could go back to that, but as she finished her glass of wine and asked me some surface-level questions about my life, which I mostly dodged because I didn’t know how to tell her that I was knocked up by a stranger and he wanted me to live with him so he could help raise the baby, I knew that I had to talk to Gian.
I had to start planning for my future, and he was going to be a part of my life.
“It was so good seeing you,” Cleo said outside after she settled the bill. She kissed my cheek and hugged me. “God, you’re so skinny, you bitch.” She beamed at me, perfect white teeth, and walked off.
I watched her go. It was still relatively early, just a few minutes past nine, and I wondered if I could go somewhere to eat.
But as I turned away from Monk’s and started back toward Gian’s, a van suddenly came screeching around the corner and slammed to a stop next to me.
I stared in surprise. There was nobody else around—the sidewalk was empty. Monk’s was located on a little side street, surrounded by quiet row homes. The back door slid open and some dumb part of me thought maybe I was being filmed in a movie or something, because three guys came out wearing black clothes and black masks.
“Ashleigh Adamson,” one said, coming toward me, big and muscular, and I took a step back and turned, ready to run screaming—
When hands grabbed me by the wrist, then the waist, I thrashed and my elbow caught someone in the mouth. “Fucking bitch,” he growled, and someone punched me in the gut.
I gasped, doubled over, as they dragged me into the van, shoved a bag over my head, and slammed the door shut.
18
Gian
Something was wrong with Ash.
It was obvious the second we got home from that hit. I thought the bath might help calm her down and draw her out, but she only went into her room and never came out again.
I knew better than to push. I’d seen this happen before with other guys in the family. Even the toughest, baddest motherfuckers sometimes broke down at their first kill. Watching someone die wasn’t easy—and watching someone kill was even harder. Ash got thrown into shark-infested waters, and now it was up to her to decide if she wanted to swim or get out.
I wanted her to stay. So I pretended to go about my day like normal, but left Brett to watch my place, just in case.
“You sure you’re up for this?” I asked the young soldier. We stood across the street and down the block, hidden away by a group of trees.
“I’m sure, boss,” he said. “I’m not much use on the street right now.” He patted his wounds. He was still healing from getting put in the hospital. “But at least I can watch someone, right?”
“I appreciate that.” I touched his shoulder than left him there to keep an eye out in case Ash decided to make a move.
She was going through something and wouldn’t be thinking straight. If she decided to run back to her family, I’d leave her alone—I wasn’t about to kidnap the girl. I knew where she lived and I’d watch her in case she tried to cut me out of the baby’s life. As much as I wanted her, I needed that baby even more—it was my chance to prove that I wasn’t just some street thug killer.
It was my chance to do something halfway decent with this pathetic life.
I went through my usual routine, visited with my guys, checked on my corners, and it was all quiet. The Healys hadn’t tried to hit back yet, but they would eventually, I had no doubt about that. Colm Healy ran the second most powerful crew in Philadelphia, and he got to his position through violence and coercion. That wasn’t about to stop now, just because I put some bullets in a couple of his boys.
If anything, it would only spark more retaliation, and I had to be ready.
After a few hours, toward the end of the night, I got a text from Brett. Ash left the house. Following.
I felt a little stutter in my chest and started driving back in that direction. I got another text a few minutes later. Went to Monk’s. What should I do?
I typed back, Stay where you are and keep an eye on it. On my way.
I found Brett sitting on a stoop across the street from Monk’s. He wasn’t even trying to hide and grinned sheepishly as I rolled down the block.
“Hey, boss,” he said. “She’s been in there for ten minutes now.”
“You see her with anyone?” I asked.
He shook his head. “She went in alone. People have been coming in and out since then though.”
“Anyone that might be her dad?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what a rich old white guy looks like.”
“Tall, gray buzzed hair, wears a suit. Looks like he wants to kick you in the throat for fun.”
“Nah, nobody like that.” He laughed a little and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, boss. I thought about going in after her, but I don’t know. She doesn’t know what I look like, right?”
“I hope not,” I said. “Since you’re sitting right there.”
He rubbed his face. “Ah, shit. I didn’t think about it.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m parking nearby. You stay.”
“Roger that, boss.” He leaned back on his elbow and stretched out his legs with a sigh.
I found a spot a block up and pulled it. I could just see the front of Monk’s. I texted Brett, Message me as soon as she’s out.
Then I leaned back in my seat to wait.
I didn’t know why she was in there, but I had a feeling she was meeting with someone. I guessed her mother or father, or maybe her brother. Could’ve bee
n Stuart, but I doubted it. Even if she decided she couldn’t stay with me after witnessing that hit, she wouldn’t go back to Stuart, at least. She fucking hated that guy.
And for good reason. He was a real dick.
But I was worried. I didn’t want to lose her to her family again. I didn’t think she’d go down that road, since she was basically a pretty piece of jewelry to sell off to the highest bidder, but her life would be more comfortable with the Adamson family.
Some part of me felt like I was depriving my child of a future. If I really wanted to be a good father, maybe I should step aside and tell her to go back home. That way my child could grow up with a real family, a rich and powerful family, and have the sort of opportunities I could only dream about.
I couldn’t give a baby what the Adamson family could. I had money and I had some sway on the streets, but my life would always be violence and uncertainty. My kid could have stability and real wealth and a real future.
Then again, Ash had all that, but she wanted to give it up. I could see it in her eyes every time we talked about her family. There was a deep, horrible unhappiness inside of her, and I think it was from growing up with those people. I could only guess at how being wealthy as hell would affect a person, like a drug or a disease. Being with those people, growing up in that house would warp a human into something unrecognizable.
Like Stuart, or like her father.
My phone buzzed. She’s out, Brett said.
I started my engine and looked over my shoulder.
A van came screaming around the corner. I frowned a little bit, head tilted, and my phone buzzed.
From Brett: SOS HEALY.
“Fuck,” I said, and threw the truck into gear. I heard a scream, then the van door slammed shut and it came barreling toward me.
I barely managed to get my truck out into traffic in time. The van smashed into me, knocking my truck sideways, but I got wedged up against a Mini Cooper. The van’s driver was screaming, and I crawled across the seat to kick open the passenger side door. I paused to pull a gun from the glove box before walking around the truck.