Boston Underworld: The Collection

by A. Zavarelli

  It hasn’t really hit me yet. I think I’ve been preparing for it so long that I’m not really even sure how I should feel. Right now, I feel nothing. Just… nothing.

  “So what now?” Em’s voice finally breaks the silence, somewhere in the late evening hours.

  We haven’t eaten all day. Or moved. Or even spoken. But now she wants to talk. I knew it would come. She wants to get back to her life in California and pretend this didn’t happen. That’s Em’s way of dealing with things. Mine is to let her go and pretend I don’t need her. Because that’s what big sisters do. I’ve always looked out for her. Protected her. Sacrificed for her.

  Sometimes I wonder if she knows how much I’ve sacrificed for her. To keep her life the way she wants it to be. So she can be young and go to school and have all those experiences I never got to. When I see her right now, looking at me like she doesn’t want to be here, I wonder if she even knows. If she even cares.

  “What do you mean?” I ask her, even though I know what she’s trying to do.

  She’s been spoiling for a fight ever since she got here. Because fighting makes it easier to leave. Easier to lash out at someone when you’re hurting. She’s been lashing out at me ever since Blaine came into my life. And every bruise, every stilted conversation has driven us further and further apart.

  She talked to me like I was so stupid. Like I was just one of those women who didn’t know any better. The truth is, she’s the one who doesn’t know any better. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have to choose. Sometimes I resent her for that. Like right now when she’s acting like she’s too good to be here anymore. In this apartment and in my presence.

  “What are you going to do now, Sash?” she asks. “Keep working at the strip club until you’re old and gray? I thought you said you had a plan.”

  “I do have a plan,” I tell her.

  “Really?” she mocks me with accusing eyes. “Because I saw that guy sneaking out the other morning. That mafia guy.”

  I blink at her and she laughs. “You just can’t fucking help yourself, can you?” she says. “You just won’t stop until you self-destruct.”

  “Now you listen to me, kid,” I yell at her as I jump off the sofa and stare at her in disbelief. “You don’t know anything about the way the real world works. And for good reason. Ma and I always protected you. Sheltered you. So that you never had to deal with these kind of realities. You have no idea the sacrifices I’ve made to keep you safe. So that you could go to college and have a shot at a normal life.”

  “Oh I know,” she says condescendingly. “I know all about your sacrifices, Sash. Spreading your legs and taking your clothes off up on stage. Is that how you sheltered me?”

  There have been moments in my life when I felt like nothing. Thought I was nothing. But to have my own sister say it, my own flesh and blood… it feels like I’ve just been knifed in the stomach.

  I know she regrets the words the moment they are out of her mouth. She’s grieving, and she’s angry and she needs someone to take it out on. But I’m so fucking sick of being everyone’s punching bag.

  “Get out,” I tell her as I walk towards the kitchen to grab my keys. “Get your shit and fly back to California tonight. I want you gone.”

  “Sasha…” Her voice breaks, but I can’t look at her. Because there are tears running down my face and I’m embarrassed.

  “Go back to your life, Em,” I tell her. “Just go back and be… happy.”

  Slainte isn’t as busy tonight as it has been, but it’s probably the late hour.

  It’s almost one am by the time I arrive. And I don’t know what I’m doing, only that it’s familiar to me. These faces. This environment. But I’m really only searching for one face.

  I find him in the back of the VIP lounge sitting next to Conor and Rory. And I don’t know why, but it pisses me the fuck off. Kaya passes me and I grab two of the drinks off her tray.

  “Hey, watch it,” she snarls. “Those are for the guys.”

  I shove a hundred-dollar bill at her and she shuts up. “Keep them coming.”

  And she does. Over the next twenty minutes, I sit in the back and watch him. He hasn’t looked at the stage once. He’s locked inside his head again. I want to know what he thinks about. I want to make sense of this man that infuriates me.

  And right now, in my inebriated state, I want to feel him.

  I move towards him, and I can barely walk straight. Turns out, a lot of alcohol and no food isn’t a great combination. All three of the guys look up at me in surprise when I stumble into their line of sight, but I only have eyes for Ronan.

  Those sad brown eyes land on me, and my entire world comes into focus. It has a way of doing that when I’m in his sights.

  I move closer and sit right down in his lap. His entire body goes stiff, and he’s got that wild look in his eyes again. Like I’m a potential threat. It only serves to provoke me. I smile and catch his face in my hands and then lean in to whisper in his ear.

  “Do you like watching the other girls dance?” I ask him.

  “I’m not,” he answers.

  I kiss the shell of his ear and then drag my lips down his neck, tasting him. “I know.”

  His breathing grows harsh and his hands move to my thighs. He holds them there as if he isn’t sure whether he wants to push me away or pull me closer. I make the decision for him by grabbing the back of his head and crushing my lips against his.

  For a second, he loses himself in the kiss, groaning into my mouth. He’s hard as hell beneath me, and I grind down on top of him. And that’s when he rears back and glances around the room. Everybody is watching us. I don’t care. But Ronan does. His cheeks are flushed and he’s embarrassed by my very public display of drunken affection.

  I knew it was a recipe for disaster, but I wanted to push him. I wanted to make him uncomfortable and provoke a reaction. Maybe Emily was right. Maybe I won’t stop until I self-destruct. He grabs my wrists roughly in his grasp and pulls my hands away from him.

  “I don’t like you like this,” he says.

  “Like what?” I challenge him.

  “Like a whore,” he clips out.

  I yank my hand back and slap him. It’s an instinctive reaction. One that only fuels my anger and makes him stare at me with that lost puppy look.

  “Don’t you look at me like that!” I scream. “Don’t you look at me like I hurt you when you hurt me.”

  I want to slap him again, but Conor is yanking me away. Ronan’s just staring at me in shock, unmoving as he presses his hand to his cheek.

  “You’re all fucking pigs!” I scream to the room. “Every last one of you! I hate you all!”

  Lachlan appears in the doorway, and I know I’ve fucked up. He glares in my direction and makes a gesture. Rory and Conor drag me down the hall to his office and drop me into one of the leather chairs opposite his desk.

  I curl my knees up and release a sob, and all three of them look to each other in confusion. Lachlan tells them to get out, and they do. And then it’s just the two of us.

  “Sasha, what the bleeding hell are you doing?” he asks. “You hit Ronan?”

  I press my forehead into my knees and cry. Lachlan doesn’t pressure me to talk, he just waits for me to get my shit together.

  “It’s not an excuse,” I tell him between sobs. “But my mother died this morning. I just wanted…”

  I look up at him, and his face is kind. And filled with understanding. And for some reason it only makes me cry harder.

  “I just wanted to…”

  “I know, Sasha,” he says softly. “I know what you wanted. But you can’t ever hit Ronan like that, do ye understand?”

  I nod, because I know the code these guys live by, and I’m sure that’s what he’s talking about. I could be killed for a lot less than what I did tonight.

  Lachlan helps me over to the sofa and grabs a jacket off the door and covers me over with it. He pauses to look down at me, and there’s a fo
rlorn expression on his face.

  “He can handle it from anyone else, Sasha. But never you.”

  More tears come at the sound of disappointment in his voice, and it only makes me feel worse. But then he’s on his phone, whispering into the speaker while I close my eyes. It isn’t long before I drift off into unconsciousness.

  When I wake again, Mack is beside me, stroking my hair and smiling down at me.

  “Why are you smiling?” I croak.

  “Because,” she says. “You did me proud tonight, Sash. I mean, I can’t be the only crazy one around this place.”

  I laugh, and it feels good. But then the tears come soon after again.

  “Sorry,” I mutter as I swipe at the hot mess that is my face.

  “Don’t be sorry, doll,” she insists. “There’s nothing a good bout of ugly crying can’t fix.”

  “I’m going to have to take your word for it,” I reply.

  “C’mon,” she says. “Rory and I are going to take you home.”

  “Okay.”

  18

  SASHA

  I’M SITTING up on the rooftop, shivering in the cold as I stare up at the sky. When a shadow passes over me, I don’t have to look to know it’s him. The shame inside of me won’t allow me to, so instead, I continue to stare at the stars, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

  He doesn’t.

  “How did you know I was up here?” I ask through a scratchy voice.

  He still doesn’t answer, and when I finally get the courage to look at him, he’s uncomfortable with my question. I’ve often wondered if Ronan watches me. So many times, I could have sworn I felt eyes on me when nobody was there. But if he does watch me, he doesn’t want me to know it.

  He surprises me by bending down and lifting my limp body into his arms. My head lolls against his strong chest and I close my eyes and let his warmth envelop me as he carries me back down the stairs and into my apartment. When I open them again, he’s pulling back the covers and laying me into bed. I’m so scared he’s going to leave me again, leave me alone to let my grief swallow me whole.

  So when the bed dips and he climbs in behind me, I almost sob with relief. I hold my breath, wondering what he’s going to do. After tonight, I’m sure he thinks I’m more unhinged than he is. But that’s one of the things about Ronan. He’ll never throw it in your face. He’ll never say a word about it. And he’s here right now, because he knows what I need. He tugs me against his body and holds me.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you,” I whisper.

  He holds me tighter and nuzzles into my neck like I’m his source of comfort and not the other way around.

  “I’m sorry about what I called you,” he replies. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “Ronan?”

  “Aye?”

  “Please don’t let me go,” I tell him. “Or at least stay until I fall asleep.”

  And he does.

  The next morning, I wake to find a pair of brown eyes gazing down at me. They are warm, like melted chocolate. Open and soft. He’s leaning against the headboard, still completely dressed save for his suit jacket. You’d never know he just woke up.

  “You’re still here,” I say.

  “Would you prefer me to leave?” he asks.

  I reach out and touch his hand with mine, and he lets me. “No.”

  “I’m not the only one,” he tells me. “Mack and Crow are on the sofa in the lounge room.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry about your mammy,” he says.

  “Thank you.”

  “I don’t know what to say in these situations.”

  “You don’t need to say anything,” I tell him. “Thank you for staying with me last night.”

  He nods, and something else pops into my mind. Something that I shouldn’t ask because it’s only going to make it harder to do what I need to do.

  “Did you talk to my mother?” I ask him.

  He doesn’t reply, but I know that I’m right. He clears his throat, and it takes him a minute to find the words.

  “I wanted her to know you’d be alright,” he says.

  His eyes find mine, and they’ve never looked more serious. “And I will protect you.”

  “Oh,” I murmur. “Well… thank you for telling her that.”

  “I meant it,” he says. “I haven’t done a good enough job of it in the past. But I will keep you safe.”

  “You have kept me safe, Ronan,” I reply. “Probably more times than I even really know. But you can’t protect me forever. I’ll be leaving soon, anyway.”

  He looks away. And I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I want to ask him if he cares. If it bothers him at all. But that would be stupid. Because none of that matters. I need to leave. To get away from this life before I lose the few marbles I have left.

  He climbs to his feet without any sort of response.

  “Are you going?”

  “Aye.” He still won’t look at me. “I have to go feed the dog.”

  “Dog?”

  “Let me know if ye need anything, Sasha.”

  And with that, he disappears down the hall.

  I wait until the front door shuts and then move to the bathroom to get cleaned up. The woman staring back at me in the mirror looks like shit. And I feel like it too. No matter how much I tell myself it’s the right thing, I can’t bring myself to get excited about leaving.

  But it is the right thing. That’s what I need to believe. And there’s no better time than the present to talk to Lachlan about it. But when I walk out into the parlor, the only one still here is Mack.

  “Good morning,” she says from the kitchen. “I had Conor buy donuts. I tell ya girl, I’m really getting used to this. Did you know I can send them out for me any time I want? Seriously considering changing my name to the Queen.”

  I laugh and sit down at the kitchen table, grateful for the coffee she shoves in my direction. I cup it in my hands and let the warmth spread into my skin.

  “Are you with me for the day?” I ask Mack.

  She nods. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

  “Then I hope you don’t mind running errands with me, your highness,” I tell her. “I’ve got to go to the funeral home. Pick out a casket. I have a ton of phone calls to make…”

  “Sasha.” Mack reaches across the table and grabs my arm to stop me. “It’s all been taken care of.”

  “What?”

  She smiles at me softly. “It’s been paid for. Everything is taken care of, you don’t have to do a thing but show up.”

  “By who?” I ask.

  “I highly suspect you already know that.”

  There’s pressure behind my eyes again and I push it away. “God, I’m such an awful person.”

  “Why because you slapped him last night?” Mack asks. “Don’t worry about it, they need to be put in their places every now and again.”

  “It was a really nice thing to do,” I say.

  “It was,” Mack agrees. “Just when you think he’s another bastard, he has to go and do something nice like that.”

  I nod, because I know Mack is all too aware of how I’m feeling right now. But I can’t let it sway me. I can’t let this world suck me back in, and especially when I don’t even know how Ronan really feels about me.

  “There is something else I have to do,” I tell her. “I think that I should talk to Lachlan. The sooner the better.”

  “Okay,” Mack agrees. “But I have a big favor to ask you, Sash.”

  “What?”

  “Lachlan and I are getting married. Next week.”

  I’m dumbfounded, and my face shows it. Though it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but she seems happy.

  “Stay until after the wedding,” she begs. “I can’t get married without you there. You’re the only one I’ve really got, besides Scarlett, and it would mean a lot to me if you were there.”

  “Of course.” I give her a weak smile. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.�
��

  19

  RONAN

  WHEN I WALK into Crow’s office, I notice straight away that something is off. He’s sitting at his desk, staring at a manila envelope when he gestures to the chair across from him.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Someone delivered this to the diner,” he says. “Asked Niall’s sister to give it to him.”

  “And?”

  “And Jaysus, Ronan.” He throws a stack of grainy photos across the desk. “Did ye really fucking kill Blaine?”

  Tension springs up inside me, and all I can think of as I sort through the photos is Sasha. Wondering if there is anything in here that will implicate her in any way. I need to be sure that doesn’t happen.

  “Aye,” I admit. “I did.”

  He stares at me and sighs. He’s getting married next week, and this is the last thing he wants to sort out.

  “I’ll take whatever punishment you see fit,” I tell him. “Whatever the cost.”

  “Care to tell me why?” he says. “Or is that all I’m going to get?”

  “He was hurting her,” I say. “So I stopped him.”

  “For good, apparently,” Crow replies dryly. “Niall knew something about that wasn’t right. He’s suspected it, Fitz. He wants answers. Whoever sent this is likely to have more copies.”

  “Probably,” I agree.

  “Are ye even aware of the fact that he could have you killed for this?” Crow asks. “Or do ye really just not give a shite about any of it?”

  “I do,” I answer. “I told you I’m prepared for whatever punishment you see fit. So long as none of it falls on Sasha.”

  Crow leans back in his chair and appraises me. “So that’s what this is all about.”

  “She had nothing to do with it. I won’t stand to see her harmed in any way.”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Crow grins. “Now who’s gone mad?”

  “I’d have done the same for any woman in the same situation.”

  “Ah, sure,” Crow replies. “Of course.”

  I don’t like his tone, but I’m in no position to argue at the moment.