Boston Underworld: The Collection

by A. Zavarelli

  “Who?” I demand.

  “Who do you fucking think?”

  “Talia?” I whisper.

  “Yes, your precious fucking Talia,” she snarls. “And I’ve got news for you guys. I remember all of you just fine.”

  I don’t know what Mandy’s talking about, but I know one thing for certain. The porch light is on, but nobody’s home. She’s fucking delusional and clearly in the middle of a psychotic break. Donny isn’t saying anything at all, which is nice for a change. So I try to ignore her and formulate a plan in my mind to get out of this, but Mandy just keeps talking.

  “Would you get a load of yourselves?” she laughs. “Even now, you’re so fucking self-involved you don’t believe me. I didn’t exist to you back then, and I still don’t now.”

  “Okay, Mandy.” I keep my voice calm and steady. She wants to talk, we’ll talk. It’s a good distraction while I think. “Tell me where you think you know me from.”

  “I must have passed you a thousand times on the street. You never even looked at me. I even slept in the same stairwells, the abandoned warehouses…”

  She jams a finger into her chest as her voice wavers. “That was me.”

  “You’re from Southie?” I ask.

  Again, I’m surprised. There were a lot of runaways on the street back in those days. We all had our own little groups. But I genuinely don’t recognize Mandy. I wasn’t looking to make any other friends back then, I was simply looking to survive.

  “I’ll give you a little refresher,” she says. “You know that deli over on M Street? The one by the park?”

  Donny stiffens beside me, and my own stomach rolls as the pieces of the puzzle start to fall together.

  “And I know you know the alley behind that deli.” She points the gun towards me and that bitterness is back again.

  “How do you know that?” I croak.

  “Because I was there that night!” she screams. “I was fucking there, hiding in the shadows. And your friend Scarlett came to rescue you and Talia, but you left me behind. You left me there…”

  I’m shaking my head, denying it. “That isn’t true, I would have known. She cut him… she cut his face.”

  “Yes, she cut him,” Mandy answers. “She cut Donny’s face.”

  Oh my God. I think I’m going to be sick. I glance at him again. The scar. The one I thought was from fighting. There’s no way. I would have known…

  “Did that little cut stop you and your friend Donny?” Mandy shoves the gun against his head again. “Well did it?”

  He doesn’t answer, but the guilt is written all over his face.

  “No…” I choke out.

  I don’t want to believe it. Believe that this sadistic bastard was right in front of me all along. And he not only hurt Mandy and God knows how many other girls, but Sasha too.

  “Yes,” Mandy sighs. “I told you he ran with a different crew back then.”

  “Mandy…”

  “Don’t.” She jams the gun in my direction. “I don’t want to hear your empty words.”

  Silence falls between us, and I try to digest everything she’s just said. It was Donny that pushed me into that dark alley all those years ago. I didn’t recognize him because I was too focused on fighting off both of them. Scarlett showed up and cut him, and then she grabbed my hand and we ran. I didn’t look back. I didn’t see the other guy’s face either. I was only thinking about getting out of there.

  “Now you both have to pay for your sins,” Mandy’s low voice cuts through the silence.

  I think back to the photos of Mandy that the PI sent me. How I thought they were using her. And something even more sickening occurs to me.

  “You were having sex with him.”

  I know it’s not the right thing to say, but I feel like I’m going to vomit. He must have really done a number on her, and I can only imagine what kind of anger could fuel that sort of determination.

  She glares at me and shakes the gun at me again. “It was part of the bigger picture. He’d already violated me once, so what did it matter if he did it again. This time, I was in control. Isn’t that right, Donny?”

  He doesn’t answer, so she clocks him in the head again.

  “Yes,” he says finally. His voice is quiet, barely a whisper, but he can’t hide his anger.

  “And Ivan,” I add. “You were using him and Donny to start a war between the Russians and the Irish?”

  “Not trying.” She smiles. “I did start a war. Did you not see what happened tonight? It’s over. They’re all going to rip each other to shreds now. The whole organization will fall to the ground.”

  “But why?” I ask. “Why not just go after Donny?”

  “Because.” The bitterness returns to her features. “After Lachlan screwed me over, I wanted them all to pay. Every last one of them.”

  “I don’t get it,” I tell her.

  “You wouldn’t.” She laughs. “You never could. You don’t understand what it’s like to be rejected over and over again. By you. By Talia. By everyone in this world. I was never good enough for anybody to notice me. To even look twice at the damaged girl on the street. I liked Lachlan. That was real. But he didn’t understand. I couldn’t tell him about the bigger picture. I had to get Donny. He thought I was cheating on him, but it meant nothing. None of them meant anything…”

  God, this chick really is off her head. I can’t help but feel bad for her, almost. “I understand better than most,” I tell her softly.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” she says. “You had Scarlett. And Talia. But not anymore. Because I took her from you.”

  My head jerks around and any sympathy I may have held a moment ago vanishes. “What does that mean?”

  “I set her up,” she says coldly. “I made her think that her Russian loved her. That he wanted her.”

  She glances my way and sighs. “It was so easy, because that’s what we all want, isn’t it? The broken like us. He sold her. And then she died. Left to fend for herself just like you left me that night. She died cold, and alone, and completely broken…”

  “I’m going to fucking murder you!” I spit.

  She jams the gun into my temple and glances back over my shoulder. I know we’ve been driving for a long time already. There isn’t a lot of gas left in the car. This is her last stand. She has to know we can’t outrun Lachlan. She’s going to kill me and Donny. That must be the final conclusion to her bigger picture.

  “The feeling is mutual,” she snaps. “Drive faster.”

  I press on the accelerator and drive. There’s only one option I can think of. There’s no way for me to wrestle the gun out of her hand at this high a speed without getting shot. I’m not even wearing a seat belt, so the resulting crash would surely kill me anyway if the bullet didn’t.

  I notice a curve with a turnout up ahead, and I tighten my grip on the wheel.

  “What are you going to do Mandy?”

  She’s scared. There’s fear in her eyes. She doesn’t want to die, but she knows that’s her only choice. She’s boxed herself in. My question is distracting her, so I use the opportunity to let the speed drop slowly.

  “We’ll just keep driving,” she says. “And then when the car runs out of gas, they’ll give me the keys to theirs or I’ll shoot you in the head. It’s just the way it is. I’m not letting them destroy me.”

  We’re approaching the turnout, and I know what I have to do. But before I get a chance, the engine dies and the car starts to roll to a stop.

  “What are you doing?” Mandy screams, shoving the gun into my hair. “Don’t fuck with me!”

  “It isn’t me,” I tell her, trying frantically to restart the car. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Donovan uses the moment of her distraction and panic to launch himself at Mandy and tackle the gun out of her hands. I don’t waste a second scrambling out of the car and towards the safety of Lachlan’s waiting arms. Their SUV is parked behind ours on the freeway, and he’s
running straight for me.

  “Get in the truck, Mack,” he orders.

  I shake my head, but then a gunshot goes off.

  “Get in Mack,” Lach pleads. “I haven’t got time to argue.”

  I reluctantly do as he says, climbing in as I watch from the window. Ronan fires a couple of shots into the car, and then Lachlan is wrestling Donny out of it. He’s bleeding from the leg and the face as they drag him back to the SUV and toss him into the back.

  Lach jumps in with him and makes quick work of tying him up while Ronan bangs a U-ie and turns us back around. Mandy isn’t with us, and I’m afraid to ask what that means.

  Silence falls around us, and then Lachlan is beside me pulling me into his arms. I wish I could say that I was numb this time, but I’m not. I feel everything. The pain and loss for Talia, and even reluctant sympathy and regret over Mandy.

  “I’ve got you sweetheart.” Lach wipes away the tears that fall down my cheeks. “I’m right here, Mack and I’m not going anywhere.”

  “How did you get the car to stop?” I ask.

  “Alexei,” he says. “I told you he’s good with computers.”

  I nod and then ask my last and final question. “Is Mandy really dead?”

  “Aye, sweetheart,” he says solemnly. “She’s dead.”

  41

  MACKENZIE

  WHEN I OPEN my eyes again, the first thing I see is a sea of stormy gray. Lachlan’s beside me, stroking my hair, and kissing my hand. He’s been here beside me often over the last three days. I’ve given him a vague explanation of what Mandy told me, but it’s all I could force out.

  He’s been patient with me, but I can tell it’s wearing on him. I’ve been despondent. Depressed. Unable to come to terms with what’s happened to Talia. Everything she said validated what Alexei already told me. She was sold into slavery and shipped overseas somewhere. There’s no doubt in my mind that Mandy had gone crazy, but I believed her when she said Talia was dead. In my heart I already knew that she was probably gone, but this didn’t bring me closure like I’d hoped. Or even justice. Because what justice is there?

  I know Donny will die. And Mandy is dead. Lach has promised that they will find out who the Russian was, and I believe him. But I don’t feel any better about it. There’s just a mountain of grief and a million other things that still need to be dealt with. I don’t know how to move on, but I know that I have to try.

  Lachlan kisses me on the forehead and moves to leave again, but I reach up and grab him.

  “Don’t.”

  He sits back down on the bed beside me and holds me close.

  “I know ye won’t believe me, Mack,” he says. “But I understand how ye’re feeling right now.”

  I glance up at him, and for the first time in my selfish state of grief, I notice how exhausted he looks. I haven’t even considered what he’s been dealing with these last few days. I just knew that if Niall wanted to come and drag me from the bed to kill me, I probably couldn’t have put up a fight. It isn’t fair of me to heap all of that onto Lachlan though.

  “Tell me,” I say.

  He moves up and rests his back against the headboard, and I climb up onto his lap and curl against his chest.

  “Ivan was the rat,” he says quietly. “He killed my grand-da. And your father. And I wanted to be the one to kill him. That’s what this was all about.”

  “I’m sorry, Lach.”

  A few more tears spill from my eyes, and I quickly try to wipe them away. But more just come to replace them.

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asks.

  “I’ve been awful to you,” I tell him. “I didn’t even stop to think what might be happening with you. I had no idea. I’m sorry about your grandfather. And I’m sorry about Ivan too.”

  “I don’t want ye to be sorry,” Lach says. “I just want ye to be mine. It’s time to put it behind us. Do ye think ye can do that, butterfly?”

  “You still want me?” I ask. “After everything?”

  “I want you, Mack,” he says. “I’m never letting you out of my fecking sight again.”

  I smile and blink my eyes a few times. He’s right. I can’t keep living in the past, and neither can he.

  “What about Niall?” I ask.

  Lachlan sighs. “He’d like to meet with us. I’ve smoothed things over with the Russians, but we still have the issue of you and me to discuss.”

  “What do you mean you’ve smoothed things over with the Russians?” I whisper. “Are you going to marry one of them?”

  “No,” he replies. “I told Niall to let Sean have the position.”

  My throat works when I realize what he’s saying. “You’re giving it up… for me.”

  “Aye.” He nods. “It’s not a big ask, Mack. I’m mad about ye, in case ye haven’t noticed.”

  I give him a shaky smile and kiss his neck. And then I start to tear at his clothes because it feels like it’s been forever and I need him inside of me. Lachlan lets me dispose of his tee shirt and slide his jeans down enough so that I can get to the part of him that I need.

  “How is it possible that I miss you when you’re right here beside me?” I ask.

  He groans and buries his face into my hair, kissing his way down my throat. “Tell me, Mack.”

  “Tell you what?” I toss off my own shirt and wrap my arms around his back. He’s so warm and strong and solid, and I never want to let him go. I’m afraid to ask the hard questions between us. To figure out where we go from here. But I have a feeling that’s exactly where he’s going with this.

  “Tell me that ye’re mad about me,” he says. “And you’d do anything for me.”

  “I’m mad about you,” I repeat between kisses. “And I would, without a doubt, do anything for you.”

  “And ye’re mine, now and for always.”

  “I’m yours, now and for always,” I echo. “For as long as we have together.”

  Lachlan lifts my hips and then sinks inside of me with an agonized sigh. “Fuck me, sweetheart,” he says. “And forget everything else.”

  And I do.

  I’m still lying in bed an hour later when Ronan knocks on the bedroom door. I glance at him in confusion because I was certain he left with Lachlan only thirty minutes ago.

  “I still don’t like ye,” Ronan grumbles. “But I guess I’ll have to get used to ye, pain in the arse that ye are.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I smile. “Did you come back here just to deliver that lovely sentiment?”

  “Nah,” he says. “Thought ye might like to see what Crow’s doing for ye tonight. What we’re all doing for ye tonight.”

  I frown, because I don’t like the tone of his voice. “What’s he doing?”

  “Get dressed and I’ll show ye.”

  He disappears down the hallway and I hurriedly throw on some jeans and a hoodie before scrambling after him. Conor is still on the couch, and he doesn’t even look up as we wander past.

  “I saw nothing,” he says, holding a magazine up in front of his eyes.

  Ronan escorts me to his beamer and we drive in silence. It isn’t long before I recognize where we’re going. The old warehouse where Johnny holds his fights.

  “He’s fighting?” I ask in confusion.

  I’ve heard some of the guys talk about how good Lachlan is, but he’s never fought here before. It seems odd that he’d be doing it now.

  “Aye,” Ronan answers. “And he’s not the only one.”

  I still don’t get what he’s saying, but I follow him inside and we find a spot in the crowd to watch from. The entire building is full of people watching the spectacle that’s already begun. I have to shoulder past a few tall men to get a good look at Lachlan.

  Sure enough, there he is in the makeshift ring, fighting one of the Russians. A big guy that goes by the name of Boris. He’s a decent fighter, and I’ve seen him win his fair share of fights. But I’m not really worried, because I know Lach is better.

  At first glance,
he seems to be doing well. He’s holding his ground and blocking most of the shots his opponent throws. Every once in a while he gets in a couple himself. But there’s something off about the whole thing. It just looks canned, like he’s not really trying. Sure, the audience is buying it, but I’m not.

  I’ve sparred with him, so I know his fighting style. And this isn’t it.

  “What’s going on?” I ask Ronan.

  “Keep watching,” he says in answer.

  So I do. I watch Lach go round after round with Boris, taking punches that I know he could have easily blocked. After a while, I start to grimace. His lip is split, and he’s bleeding from a gash on his forehead too.

  “Why isn’t he fighting?” I demand.

  Ronan remains silent beside me, his jaw locked.

  Boris hits Lachlan another four times, and he isn’t even bothering to try to deflect them at all anymore.

  I open my mouth to yell something to him, but Ronan stops me.

  “Don’t,” he orders. “You’ll only make it worse. He wouldn’t want ye to be here.”

  Suddenly, it dawns on me what’s happening here. He’s taking a fall. For the Russians. Because of me. I glance at the chalkboard hanging up on the wall and see the huge amount of money in the pot tonight. Lach’s money. The Irish have all placed huge bets to keep up the pretense. I have no doubt whose money they are betting with either. But worse than that is Lach’s pride.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper. “I can’t let him do this.”

  “It’s already done,” Ronan says. “I want ye to know what he’s giving up for ye. The things he continues to give up. Ye hurt him once. I won’t stand for ye to do it again.”

  I glance up at Ronan with a newfound respect. “I love him, Ronan,” I assure him. “I don’t ever want to hurt him again. I can’t watch this. Please tell me there’s something we can do.”

  He just shakes his head.

  “This is the payment. What we agreed to. Three lads for your freedom.”

  “Three?” I ask in disbelief.

  Ronan nods, but he doesn’t look bothered by it. “I had it coming for what I did. Rory will fight next month. Crow asked this of us so he could keep ye.”