Dirty CEO: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Windy City Bad Boys Book 1)

by Mickey Miller

  “I love you.” I squeezed her hip and let go.

  “Love you too.”

  I swallowed the last of my drink and set it on the bar, leaving Kelly to contemplate her own thoughts as she sipped her drink. I glanced over my shoulder before I took the first step. What thoughts filled her mind as the queen looked over her new kingdom?

  “What am I looking at?” The tangle of wires and plastic sitting on a table in the middle of one of my warehouses could have come from the moon it looked that strange. As did the four smaller ones orbiting the main object-like moons. I had a suspicion of what they were, but I wanted Sal to say it. I’d promised Kel no more flying off the handle, but I was this fucking close to losing my shit.

  “It’s a bomb. We found it and two others at the warehouse on LaSalle.” Sal swallowed hard. “We also found one under your Jag.”

  I had to be hallucinating because Sal didn’t just say they tried to blow up my car. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “They aren’t going after the ‘special’ sausage, they’re just shooting in the dark. I don’t know if that’s fucking good or bad. The fucking Irish are planting car bombs. Are they shitting me? If we lose another shipment Diego is going to be up their ass, and they aren’t going to like it.”

  Sal shook his head. “If these had gone off, there’d be a lot of causalities. The whole fucking block would have been a crater. They are trying to flex their muscle, but whoever their bomb maker is, he went overboard. They are literally playing with fire and people’s lives.”

  “Shit.” Maybe Kel had been right. The summer had been too quiet. I’d thought it was because those around us were learning to let bygones be bygones. But they weren’t letting it go. They were just gathering their forces and trying to sniff out a weak spot. I had one weak spot, but even I didn’t think they would kill one of their own to get to me.

  “What do you want to do? The Underbosses, when they find out, won’t let this go without retaliation.”

  “Fuck them and the Capos. I’m sick of the eye-for-eye mentality. We’ll sit on this, and try and get to the bottom of who is stupid enough to use explosives. And when you do…” I held Sal’s eye. When an animal went rabid you put it down. When the enemy didn’t care about collateral damage, they got the same treatment.

  He nodded. I didn’t need to say the words. “Understood.”

  I turned and then paused. Unease prickled down my spine. “Don’t tell Kelly what’s going on,” I said over my shoulder. “She’s already nervous enough about things as it is. Not a word, pass that down to Luca and Gino. I know the four of you are thick as thieves now.”

  Somehow, Kelly had won over my security team. Sal was still on edge about me being with an Irish girl, but he was staunchly on team Kelly now.

  “Are you sure that’s wise? You know how that girl feels about secrets.”

  I’d nearly lost Kelly when she found out about my past. How would she feel if she found out about this?

  I had to keep her safe. “Not a word, Sal.”

  “Yes, Boss.”

  Ever since I was a little girl, Pops had taken me to the Irish American Heritage Festival in the summer. America had July fourth, and Chicago had this.

  The scents of food and hot asphalt welcomed Vince and me into a party atmosphere as we turned a street corner, and walked straight into the heart of the party.

  People buzzed around us, the Guinness and the Harp flowed like water in green plastic cups. Families laughed, and music played. It was everything I loved and missed.

  Sal and Luca shadowed us. Ever since the last “code gray,” Vince and Sal had been twitchy. He hadn’t told me what went wrong, but gone was the laid-back man of the past month, and in his place, was the tightly-wound Mob boss I’d first met.

  I snagged Vince’s arm. His muscles tightened beneath the short-sleeve polo he wore over a pair of khaki shorts. It was hot as hell on the pavement in the middle of the summer, and we both dressed for comfort. Even though I wore a sundress, I was already feeling the heat crawl up my legs. The heat magnified the unease knotting me up inside. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  We could easily turn around and leave. While the loud banter of half-drunk Irish and the low thrum of accordion players and folk music reached us, we hadn’t been seen yet.

  Vince wound his fingers through mine and lifted them. He kissed my fingertips. “I’m sure. Everything will be fine.”

  Nervousness fluttered through my stomach, riling up a vat of acid until I was borderline nauseated. But Vince was leading me deeper into a mass of people decked out in green, orange, and white. Overhead the Irish flag snapped in the air, rippling beside the American one.

  There were dozens of white pop-up tents dotting the sidewalk, hawking everything from ale, whiskey, and a ton of food. The goal of the festival was about celebrating one’s heritage by eating too much and getting fall down drunk. Though it was midday, a few were well on their way, staggering down the closed-off street used as a thoroughfare.

  At the opposite end of the street, a huge stage had been erected. By the thunder of feet and the raucous cheer, I figured some local performers were showcasing an Irish jig.

  Vince wound his arm around my waist. “Slow down, Bunny. There’s no rush. You can see everything and do everything.”

  I hadn’t realized I’d been rushing us through until he pulled me close. I relaxed, willing the tension knotting my shoulders to ease. “It just, this feels wrong. You stick out like a sore thumb.”

  I darted a look toward the people on each side of us. We were a pale skinned lot. Or, if you didn’t mind freckling from the sun, as ruddy as a lobster. He was one of maybe two or three people at the whole festival with darker features. No one had the olive bronze to their skin like Vince did, now even darker than normal since we were in the middle of summer. Already I caught the sneers and the cold faces tossed our way from the periphery of my vision.

  “Sal’s here. Luca’s here. You’re here. They’re not going to hurt an Irish princess now, are they?” He stroked the edges of my hair, then gestured behind us at the two men. “We’ll be okay. Now, what do you want to drink?”

  Vince led me toward one of the vendors advertising Guinness. Just in time too, because a mini-parade had sprung up as a local bagpipes band in kilts boomed by us.

  I bit back a laugh watching a beret-wearing man cart a portable snare drum past. The fun, free-for-all atmosphere was beginning to sink in. “Wait a minute. I want to watch.” I nodded toward the path the musicians had cut through the people on their way to the stage.

  “Sure, you go on ahead. I’ll meet you with the drinks.”

  I stood on my tiptoes and brushed a kiss over Vince’s mouth. “Perfect.”

  I threw an extra shimmy to my walk knowing Vince was watching me as the crowd parted and then gobbled me up, out of sight of Vince’s roving eyes.

  It didn’t take too long to shake off the food and other heritage vendors and get into the dancing heart of the fest. My body craved the music of my childhood, the spill of the bagpipe, the warble of Irish ballads. Within minutes I found myself dancing with countrymen, celebrating where we’d come from.

  While I was bouncing around with another group who had swung me into the center of their jig, I caught sight of Pops and Tommy. Tommy glowered at me, while Pops just looked pissed. I had barely talked to either of them since Vince and I had come back from New York, and they’d effectively fired me. I’d reached out a few times, but it seemed that they no longer wanted anything to do with me. I figured they needed some time to cool off.

  I detangled myself from the dancers and approached them.

  “Where’s the dago,” Pops said right off the bat, his posture stiff.

  I sighed. “Vince is getting us drinks.”

  “I can’t believe you brought him here, of all places.”

  “You two need to knock that shit off before you go the way of Romeo and Juliet,” a familiar brogue piped up over my head. I blinked and found myself
looking up at Connor, and then down at his bare legs. Why wasn’t I surprised he was wearing a kilt?

  “What are you doing here?”

  He slung his beefy arm around my shoulder. By the smell of his breath, he was deep into several pints. But his eyes were clear. Connor was a damn enigma, I was learning. No matter how many pints he had, he always seemed clear-headed. “I wanted to see how things were going since I last saw you. And besides, I’d get my Irish badge revoked if I didn’t attend the festival. Where’s that man of yours?”

  “Hopefully dead,” Pops muttered.

  I shot him an evil look and leaned into Connor. He was the only one of my damn family who seemed to care what I wanted. “He’ll be along soon. He’s being a good boyfriend and fetching me a drink.”

  Connor saluted me with his Guinness glass. “You’re training him well. Sláinte. To your good health!”

  “Why the fuck are you encouraging her?” Tommy exploded.

  Connor turned his attention to Tommy. My brother’s hair had grown in some since the last time I saw him, but he still sported a faux-hawk. “Because, cuz, outside of Chicago no one gives a flying fuck about this old country shit. You all are being xenophobic fuckwits. Moreover, I saw the way he looked at her. You can just see it in his eyes. I know when a man is in for the long-haul, and he’s smitten. Trust me, as a guy who’s never stayed with a girl for more than a month or two, I know what playing a girl looks like. And Vince is it in this for as long as he can keep in Kelly’s good graces, trust me.”

  I grinned widely up at Connor. For a man who made a living bashing other men’s head in, he was damn articulate.

  “Well fucking said, my man,” Vince said from behind me.

  The tension that had been twisting through me eased as Vince, Luca, and Gino joined us. He’d made it through the den of the leprechauns unscathed. I don’t know what I was thinking, but the longer he’d been gone the more I’d been worried.

  Vince passed me my drink and I sank into his side.

  Tommy scowled down where Vince had his arm firmly around my waist. I flashed him a fuck-off smile and sipped my beer.

  I went on. “We really need to get over—”

  “Gun!” Sal’s voice thundered through the air before lightning struck. Before I could react, I was shoved hard. My beer went flying. The crackle of glass crashing to the ground was echoed by the sharp pop of a gunshot close by.

  I ducked, biting back a scream as sheer fucking chaos erupted around me. People were running, and the discordant twang of bagpipes yowled through the air. Two more gunshots popped off almost simultaneously. The acrid stink of burnt gunpowder filled my nostrils and burned my eyes. Whoever was shooting was close by.

  Oh, God, Vince.

  I knew, without a doubt, that whoever had fired the first shot, it had been aimed at him.

  The sounds of pained voices filled my head. Someone grabbed me, and I screamed, coming up swinging until Gino caught my arms and pinned them to my sides.

  I almost sobbed as he swung me around.

  “We need to get you safe,” he barked.

  “Where’s Vince?”

  “Kelly, now! Come on!”

  “Where is Vince!”

  I pushed past Gino who’d been blocking me from the scene.

  I’d been standing in a circle of six men.

  Four of them were on the ground in a growing ocean of blood and glass.

  Vince was one of them, his body unmoving underneath Sal.

  Pops was another. He laid broken on the concrete with his arms splayed.

  I attempted to scream, but nothing came out as if I was locked in a bad dream.

  After rushing to Vince’s side, I tried in vain to move Sal’s heavy body to see if Vince had been hit. Sal had taken a shot or two in his upper body and he had gone limp.

  “Call a fucking ambulance!” I screamed in a high-pitched voice at the sea of people, many of whom dove to the ground when the shots were fired.

  Gino materialized behind me and helped maneuver Sal’s body to flat ground. Vince still wasn’t moving, and his shirt was stained red with blood.

  My ears still rang from the gunshots. My hand shook as I caressed Vince’s face. “Vince. Oh, God. Please, Vince. Not like this.” I hugged his slack body, transferring the blood to my own clothes. “Not like this,” I repeated.

  Through the haze of my tunnel vision I sensed a commotion, and when I looked to my right I saw that Connor had subdued Greg Cooney a few feet away from me. Connor had him in a headlock and was pressing his face into the concrete. Greg held a smoking gun, but his grip was dissipating with Connor’s vise grip on him.

  “What the fuck, man?!” Connor yelled like a banshee. “I always thought you were a little looney, but I didn’t think you’d shoot an old man!”

  Suddenly, I felt dizzy. I wanted to run away from this. From all this. But there was nowhere to hide. In a daze, I stumbled toward Connor. “Did you say Cooney shot Pops?”

  Greg was on the ground and bleeding, but he still had his senses about him. “I didn’t mean to! My elbow. It was hit as I shot. See! Look! Owww!” Greg nodded in the direction of his arm, which was bleeding badly.

  I swallowed. “You’re a monster.”

  Greg scowled. “Me? Oh, no, not me.” His words were strained. “I did what I had to do for the good of our people. Your father was collateral damage.”

  I ground my teeth, but before I could give him a slap him or turn him into a eunuch, my father groaned. I rushed to his side. Tommy cleared out of the way to let me in.

  “Pops. Are you alright?”

  “Kelly.” His smile was weak, but it was there.

  “I love you, Pops. I’m sorry I haven’t been there this summer. Goddamn it.” I gripped his hand and started to sob.

  The siren from the ambulances grew louder. The crowd parted for them. Sal was the bloodiest, and he got hauled off first. Pops was second, and they politely but firmly shoved me away. As they were putting Vince onto a stretcher, he came to, and I rushed to his side again. I grabbed his leg as they rolled him to the ambulance.

  “Oh fuck, my head hurts,” he groaned. “But that’s it.”

  A whoosh of relief flew out of me when I heard him speak. “Thank God.”

  “We’re still taking you to the hospital for concussion protocol,” one of the EMTs said. By the firm look in his eyes, there would be no arguing about it.

  “I need to go, Vince. Pops—it’s bad.”

  Vince winced, his eyes puffy and unfocused. “Do what you have to do.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was sad because he loved me and my father could be dead soon, or he was sad because I’d made the choice not to be with him.

  Either way, I turned, rushed to the ambulance, and insisted that the EMT let me ride with Pops to the hospital. I jumped in, they closed the door behind me, and the siren wailed.

  I took a deep breath as I looked over at Sal laid out in the hospital bed. I flipped my phone in my hand, a nervous tic I’d developed over the last few days.

  He had been in a coma for a week after the surgery to retrieve two bullets from his abdominal cavity. I’d called the best surgeon in the country all the way from Mayo Clinic in Minnesota, stressing that price was not an issue.

  Of course, some schmo had managed to capture the entire event of Sal saving my life on his cellphone. There was no question that Cooney had shot first, twice at Sal as he protected me. Sal had fired back and hit Cooney in the arm, which sent Cooney’s third shot flying right at Mr. MacNamara.

  Pops. Kelly’s dad was on the brink of death, and I felt fucking horrible. In some way, it was my fault.

  Mr. MacNamara was undergoing another surgery today. I’d only caught snippets of Kelly as she sat vigil at his bedside.

  As for Sal, the doctors didn’t know if he would make it. For the first four days, I’d stayed by his side, watching him as he laid there basically lifeless. He’d gotten a visit from a daughter, in her twenties, whom I never even knew
Sal had. A woman his age stopped by, too, and I wasn’t sure if she was his daughter’s mother or his sister until she introduced herself as the wife. Well, ex-wife, but still, the idea of Sal having been married shook me.

  You think you know a man until he takes a bullet for you.

  When death is in the picture, people get sentimental all of a sudden. No matter Sal’s faults as husband or father, he was loyal as fuck. I told his ex-wife and daughter if they ever needed a thing to let me know and I’d make it happen in an instant.

  Still, my promises felt empty. What good was all the money in the world when you were dead?

  My phone buzzed and I rushed to look.

  Kelly: Your surgeon was good, but there’s a lot of damage. They don’t know…they don’t know if he’ll ever be 100% again.

  Vince: He’s the best.

  Kelly: Thanks.

  Vince: Want to come over tonight? I miss you.

  Kelly: I can’t.

  Vince: Tomorrow then.

  Kelly: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

  I growled, tired of this texting bullshit. I pressed the green button to call her. She picked up after one ring.

  “Hey,” her voice was hoarse and delicate.

  “Hey, Bunny.”

  “What do you need?”

  “To talk to you.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  My heartbeat raced. “You’re saying we can’t talk? Fuck, Kelly. I want you. No, fuck that. I need you by my side. And I need to be by your side to get through this.”

  “Vince,” her tone was serious. “We tried this thing for the summer. We thought it would bring peace to a war that’s been going on for generations.”

  “And it did,” I cut her off. “Cooney’s one bad apple, the guy is crazy! He doesn’t speak for everyone. We’ve been making progress.”

  “Progress?” There was venom in her voice. “You call progress me watching my own father and the love of my life bloody on the ground? The two people who mean the most to me dying on the concrete, making me choose between whom to worry about first?!”