Boston Underworld: The Collection

by A. Zavarelli

  “Fuck,” Rory says. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m here, I’m here.”

  Another shot. This one quieter.

  I don’t register that it came from Rory’s weapon until the guy in front of me tumbles down the stairs.

  “Come on.” Rory grabs me around the waist, but I won’t move.

  Crow, Reaper, and Dom appear from somewhere, followed by Conor in a janitor’s uniform. He mops up the blood and then drags the body down the stairs.

  We all follow, out to the waiting cars.

  “Storm,” I say.

  “Shhh, baby,” Rory whispers. “I know. We’re getting her back.”

  My protests end there. Reaper and Crow take off first, and Conor’s trying to shove me in the backseat of the Challenger. Rory grabs him by the arm and shoves him in there instead.

  “Scarlett rides beside me.”

  Dom jumps in on the other side, and Rory peels out after Crow.

  Within a minute, he’s on the phone, and Crow is giving a play-by-play of the directions. When he tells Rory they’re on the interstate, I cut in.

  “New Haven,” I tell them. “They’re going to New Haven.”

  The drive is long and too quiet. Rory hangs up the phone when he realizes he doesn’t need any more directions because I know them well by heart.

  He reaches over and squeezes my thigh in his hand, keeping the other on the wheel.

  “We’re going to get her back.”

  “I know,” I say.

  When we reach the secluded driveway for Trip’s summer house, I instruct him to turn off.

  Crow’s name flashes across the phone, but he doesn’t have time to warn us. An ATV comes out of nowhere up ahead, bullets spraying in our direction.

  “Fuck,” Rory curses. “Take the wheel, baby.”

  He’s reaching for his gun, but I grab it first. Along with the smaller one strapped to my thigh.

  “Scarlett,” he growls.

  But I’m already rolling down my window, and so are Dom and Conor.

  “Told you she should have rode bitch,” Conor says.

  “Say that about her one more time and I’ll put a bullet in your head myself, fuckface.”

  I’m shooting blindly, because the lights on the ATV are bright, but aiming in the general direction seems to be the best course of action. I do everything Rory taught me, but it’s a lot different in a moving car and when you only have one hand out the window. Dom and Conor have more ammunition than me, so I have to make mine count.

  I’m not sure which one of us hits the driver of the ATV, but it veers off the road suddenly and rolls down the hill.

  Rory doesn’t stop and check. When the roadway is clear, he floors it and we’re flying up the gravel drive to the house. Crow’s car is parked around the side, and the fireworks have already started. Reaper and Crow use the doors for cover as they pick off the men guarding the house.

  “Jesus,” Dom mutters as he takes in the scene before us. “They brought an army.”

  “That’s okay.” I reach over and squeeze Rory’s hand. “Ours is better.”

  He winks at me and we all bail out of the car.

  Rory pops the trunk, and there’s an entire arsenal waiting for us inside. Him and Dom lift the case out and carry it to the side of the car.

  “Stay close,” Rory instructs me.

  And then he’s shooting. With impressive skill. He picks off two of the hired guards within the first three minutes.

  But the lucky streak doesn’t last long. As soon as they start taking bullets from our side, they are firing them back just as fast too.

  Dom and Rory have me sandwiched between them and every time I try to fire off a shot, Rory’s shoving my head back down.

  “You brought me with you, now let me fucking help,” I growl.

  He ignores me, so I resort to lying down on the ground and aiming for the feet I can see moving around.

  It’s a smaller target, and it’s dark, and they are moving. So I don’t actually expect to hit any of them, but I give it my best.

  And after a shit ton of rounds, one of them goes down. Rory finishes him off then glances down at me.

  I smile up for him and hold out my hand for more ammunition.

  He gives it to me.

  We settle in for a long night. Unlike the movies, this is not over quickly. We came in hard, but there are still a lot of guys left. I don’t know where Storm is until I see her platinum hair poking up from the backseat of a car.

  She’s looking for a clear escape route, but there isn’t one.

  Unless I make one for her.

  Rory is busy, and I use it to my advantage. I reach into the case and grab an AK. And then I army crawl around him and to the back of the car, making my escape.

  “Scarlett,” Rory calls out. “Get your arse the fuck back here right now.”

  I blow him a kiss and keep going.

  This is going to last all night at this rate.

  And I’m counting on one simple loophole. I’m fairly certain that these assholes have orders not to kill me.

  It’s a risk, but it’s one I’m willing to take. I poke my head out, and one of the guards sees me. And just as I thought, he holds up his arm to the guys next to him and signals in my direction.

  That’s right, boys. I’m off limits.

  Because Quinn and Duke probably want to do the deed themselves.

  Rory is making his way over to me now, and I don’t have much time. So I make a mad dash to another car on the other side of the lawn. I only have one more to go before I get to Storm.

  That’s when Conor takes a bullet through the windshield.

  “Fuck,” Crow roars. “Stay down, lad.”

  And then there’s a grunt not far behind me. That’s when I see it.

  Rory’s been hit. In the shoulder.

  He’s bleeding. Because of me.

  “Are you okay?” I yell.

  He clutches at his wound and glares. “Get your arse back over here, now.”

  He’s huddled behind the trunk, waiting. Bleeding. And I want to tell him all the things I never have.

  I’m pissed off and I’m fucking tired, and now Rory’s hurt because of me.

  “No. Fuck this,” I tell him as I stand up and start firing off rounds.

  “And fuck them. Fuck all these motherfuckers.”

  Crow and Reaper take cover too, and someone tells the guards to hold their fire.

  They try to hide behind posts and doors and tires and wooden pallets.

  I walk and I fire.

  And they go down.

  One by one, they go down.

  I hear them, rather than see them.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Their bodies fall in time to my heart.

  And then one of the guards disobeys his orders and shoots me in the fucking foot. It hurts like a motherfucking cocksucker.

  But I keep after it.

  Limping my way to Storm. Rory joins me at my side, followed by the rest of the men a minute later.

  “Jaysus,” Crow says, eyeing me like I’m insane.

  “Aye,” Rory agrees. “And ye thought your woman was fecking crazy. Just look at the little monster I’ve created.”

  “Indeed, you did, Frankenstein. Give yourself a pat on the back.”

  We huddle behind the car and Storm crawls out to join us. She’s got a bloody knife in her hand, and I don’t have to ask if she used it.

  “This is not what I signed up for,” she says.

  “Are you alright?”

  I check over her wound and she nods.

  “What’s one more battle scar?”

  “It’s a through and through,” Crow says after taking a look at her arm. “Just keep pressure on it.”

  There are still a few stray bullets firing from around the house, but Rory and the guys pick them off within another few minutes.

  And this time, they are all business.

  Crow tosses everyone an AK from the case.

  �

�I guess that’s one fucking way to do it,” Dom says. “Now that we know Storm’s safe.”

  “It’s the only way,” I tell them. “These cowards won’t come out on their own.”

  And so we form a chain. Five men and two women strong.

  “Know how to shoot one of these things?” Conor asks Storm.

  “No fucking clue,” she says as she takes the gun from him, anyway.

  On the count of three, we spray the house with bullets. We blow the place up like it’s the fourth of July. Glass and wood and debris fly across the yard and into the gravel.

  “I hope they don’t have any neighbors,” Crow yells over the racket.

  “They don’t,” I assure him. “It’s dead quiet here. Nobody can hear them scream.”

  He glances at me, but doesn’t ask.

  We dispense every last round before the place falls quiet again.

  “Wait here until we clear the place,” Rory tells me.

  I don’t listen of course and follow after them once they’re inside. The remaining guards are all dead, scattered about the lounge and kitchen.

  And the guys find Quinn and Duke bunkering down in a safe upstairs.

  Rory and Crow have them tied up and in the car before I can do any damage to them. And then they’re dousing the place in lighter fluid. Crow leaves a trail down the front porch and Rory hands me a pack of matches.

  “Light it up and burn it down, baby.”

  I light it up.

  And burn it down.

  40

  RORY

  ALEXEI PROVIDES us with sanctuary at his house.

  He has a surgeon on call and loads of medical equipment, not to mention his own dungeon of torture.

  Alexei is a private bloke, and he keeps his business separate from his family.

  His wife Talia and their baby son Franco remain on the main level of the home while we take up residence on the third.

  “The doctor will be here shortly,” he tells us. “Magda will help in the meantime.”

  His housekeeper nods, bearing an armload of first aid supplies, and I instruct her to help Storm first while Dom tends to Conor.

  My wound can wait, and I want to check over Scarlett.

  But Magda gasps from across the room, drawing our attention to her. She’s cut off the sleeve of Storm’s dress, revealing deep scars along the length of her arm. Her face is scarred too, and though she’s done a good job hiding it beneath her makeup, it will never go away entirely.

  Scarlett clears her throat and pokes me in the arm. Her eyes tell me what her lips don’t need to. Storm doesn’t like people staring, and I can’t blame the girl.

  But Conor, as always, takes longer than the rest to catch on to it. He’s still gawking. And Storm’s flaying him alive with her eyes.

  “Ask me what happened and I’ll stab you with the one good arm I’ve got left.”

  Dom and I laugh, and Conor looks away sheepishly.

  When it’s over, I turn to Scarlett and check her over with my eyes. She’s holding the towel over my wound, fretting over me in a way that is unlike her. And she seems healthy. Safe and slightly sane, albeit a little dirty with crazy wild hair.

  It’s all good until I notice the crimson leaking from her heel. And sure enough, when I pull it off, her foot is swollen and bloody.

  “Jesus Christ, baby doll, you should have told me.”

  “I’m fine,” she says.

  “Ye’re not fine.”

  She doesn’t let me fuss about it though.

  “It’s just a graze, it didn’t even go into my foot. Thank you, obsidian. You’re the one who’s really shot. Half of us are.”

  When she looks away, her eyes are watery. I grab her face and pull it back to me.

  “This isn’t on you. We all knew what we were doing. And we went because we wanted to.”

  “Not me,” Conor gripes. “I went because you told me I could have the weekend off.”

  “And now you fucking do,” I say.

  “Can we all just take a minute to appreciate how fecking crazy your missus is?” Dom chimes in.

  Scarlett smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. And this time, when I pull her against my unwounded side, she lets me.

  “When do I get to fuck those guys up?” Storm asks.

  I look at Scarlett, and she shrugs.

  “I promised her she could play with them for a while first.”

  “Aye, of course you did.”

  The surgeon’s arrival ends the conversation. Luckily, none of us are too bad off, so she uses local anesthetics to remove the bullets and tend to the wounds.

  Crow checks in on us and makes sure we’re all okay before he and the others bail and head back to Boston.

  It’s just Scarlett, Storm, and I. And thanks to Alexei’s generosity, we have rooms for the night.

  Scarlett makes sure Storm is settled in before she comes back to me.

  She looks dead tired and so much smaller than she usually does when she lingers in the door frame. I have no idea what’s going on in that head of hers.

  It’s all over now. She is free.

  The men downstairs will be dead come tomorrow morning, and she will walk out of here without any burdens left on her shoulders.

  But I don’t know if she understands that yet. I don’t know how long it will take. I don’t know anything, except that when she launches herself into my arms, I let her. She’s crawling all over me, tearing at my clothes, and kissing me like she’s trying to kill me. It’s violent and needy and insane.

  “God, you’re so fucking hot,” she murmurs into my neck. “I need you, Rory. I need you right now.”

  I’ve got a bum shoulder, and her foot is jacked up, but those things don’t matter. I grab her and toss her onto the bed, filthy bloody clothes and all, and I take over.

  I get her naked and fuck her like I’ve never fucked her before.

  Complete domination.

  I spank the shit out of her arse because I’m still pissed at her, and she lets me. Of course the little hellraiser likes it and begs me for more.

  Whatever residual adrenaline was left in my body is ejaculated into her when I come so hard I nearly black out.

  Scarlett does too, leaving scratch marks down my back to claim me.

  Neither one of us has energy for a shower. So I tuck her into my arms and kiss her head and am half asleep when she kisses my chest and murmurs against me.

  Her one undeniable truth.

  “Mine.”

  41

  RORY

  IN THE EARLY light of morning, something is different about Scarlett.

  I don’t know exactly what. Just that her eyes are softer. Warm like honey, and unguarded.

  Strands of golden brown hair tickle my chest as she brushes her lips against me, and her fingers dig into my back.

  “Still hate me?” she asks.

  It’s a loaded question if I ever heard one. She wants to talk, and I do too, but not until it’s really over.

  Until her past is wiped clean.

  Storm saves me from answering when she bursts in without knocking and leans against the door frame.

  “Aw, well isn’t this just the cutest thing I ever did see.”

  She’s clearly back on the mend and feeling like herself again, as her eyes rake over my naked chest before she winks at Scarlett.

  “Did you need something?” Scarlett snaps.

  “I want to play with my toys now.”

  “Fine,” Scarlett groans and then looks at me. “Can she go play?”

  “You’ll have to find Alexei,” I tell her. “He’ll let you in. And supervise.”

  “I don’t need any supervision,” Storm scoffs.

  I don’t bother to argue with her because I already gave Alexei the rundown, and he knows the drill. He’ll make sure they’re still alive when Scarlett is ready for them.

  “No tattoos,” Scarlett tells her before she slips out the door.

  “Tattoos are for the living.��� Storm winks and disappears down the hallway, humming a happy tune.

  “Do I even want to know where you found her?” I ask Scarlett.

  “Why?” she snipes. “You want another mental case to save since you failed with this one?”

  I kiss her because fuck she’s hot when she gets all worked up like this.

  “Are ye jealous?” I murmur against her lips. “My little green eyed monster.”

  “She keeps looking at you and I know you know it.”

  “So what would ye like me to do?” I laugh. “Cut out her eyes?”

  Scarlett doesn’t answer, and I can see her struggling with these new feelings. Jealousy is probably as foreign to her as the issue of trust.

  “Satan.” I grab her by the shoulders and haul her towards me. “Get your arse over here.”

  She lays her head against my chest and sighs. When my fingers tangle in her hair, her eyes flutter shut, and within a few moments, she’s back to sleep.

  We lay there like that until the afternoon when there’s really no more putting it off.

  I’m needed back in Boston, and there’s no reason to keep delaying the inevitable.

  “You ready?” I ask when she emerges from the bathroom dressed in some of Talia’s clothing.

  “As I’ll ever be,” she says.

  Her voice is wooden, and the shutters have come down on her face. She’s locked herself down tight, my little warrior. I still don’t know what’s going to happen when she sees them. If she’ll really go through with it.

  But the choice is Scarlett’s to make. And whatever she decides, I’ll be right there beside her.

  We walk hand in hand to the basement, and she doesn’t let go.

  Storm is waiting in the hallway, happy and carefree as she sucks on another lollipop.

  “My work here is done,” she says. “And the Russian guy organized a ride for me, so I’m going to skedaddle.”

  Scarlett reaches out and grabs her by the arm, and Storm flinches at the human contact.

  “Sorry.” Scarlett releases her. “I just wanted to say thank you. For everything.”

  “No problem.” Storm shrugs. “It was fun. We should do it again sometime.”

  Scarlett looks up at me and then shakes her head.

  “I’m out of the game now,” she says. “For good.”

  Storm smirks and then sighs. “I figured as much.”

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