CROW

Boston Underworld #1

A. Zavarelli

Crow © 2016 A. Zavarelli

Cover Design by MNSArtStudio

Cover Photograph © 2016 TheArtOfPhoto

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Playlist:

LL Cool J Mama Said Knock You Out

Living Dead Girl Rob Zombie

Sweet Dreams Marilyn Manson

Voodoo Godsmack

Crazy Bitch Buckcherry

Bad Girlfriend Theory of a Deadman

Burning Desire Lana Del Ray

Shinedown The Crow and the Butterfly

Galway Girl Steve Earle

Butterfly Crazy Town

Time is Running Out Muse

Kiss My Irish Ass Flogging Molly

I’m Shipping Up to Boston Dropkick Murphys

Prologue

Mackenzie

I hate cops.

I really, really do. Especially around here. You never know whose payroll they’re actually on. Dealing with them over the last six months has done nothing to improve my image of them.

Fucking cops.

They won’t give me the time of day. When I filed the missing person’s report, they barely even glanced at the details. Follow ups? Nonexistent. Now every time they see me at the station they’re rolling their frigging eyes. They don’t give two shits about some missing woman with a questionable reputation. Just like thousands of others in this country, she’s been sucked into a black hole never to be seen or heard from again. Their families and friends are left at the mercy of a system that divvies up investigative hours based on who looks the prettiest on print or who shouts the loudest to the media. Talia has nobody shouting for her. Only me. And that means it’s up to me to find out what happened to her.

It was the same story with my dad. Forget that he was brutally murdered. He deserved it because he was a nobody boxer fighting in the underground. He associated with bad people, and therefore he got his just penance. That’s how the cops deal with things in this city. That’s how they dealt with my father’s death and the thirteen-year-old kid he left behind. Sweep it under the rug and file it away under cases that actually matter.

I was a kid then, so I had no say. But I’m all grown up now- at the ripe old age of twenty-two- and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this happen again. The last nine years have forged a woman with a heart of steel. I’m not backing down this time. Whatever it takes to find her, I will do it. This is more personal to me than it’ll ever be to any of these office monkeys.

Which is why I’m now sitting in said office of some poor schlep who works for the FBI. Really, all these robots are just overpaid cops too. Still, I feel bad for this lady sitting across from me. Agent Cameron is her name- as evidenced by the name plate and various other propaganda strewn across her desk. There are always clues about people’s inner workings if you look close enough. And what Ms. Cameron’s office tells me about her is that she wants to feel important. She’s probably dedicated her best years to the job. But she’s stuck in an office shuffling papers and that frigging nameplate is all she has to show for her career.

The lines of bitterness are etched into her overtired face. She doesn’t look like she’s had a day of fun in her whole life. But then again, have I? Maybe that’s what bothers me about her. I see a bit of myself reflected in her eyes. A desolate future of nothingness and only my cats to go home to at the end of the day.

I imagine this woman has plenty of them. Her lackluster red hair is still stuck in the style of the eighties, and her gray suit does absolutely nothing for her pale complexion. She pushes her glasses up the ridge of her nose and takes a sip from a mug that proclaims she’s been to Disneyland. At least she has that going for her, I guess.

“Look, uhm…” She glances down at the paperwork before her to find my name. The same name I’ve already told her twice.

“Mackenzie,” I repeat.

“Yes, Mackenzie.” She straightens her posture and sighs. “I understand your frustrations. Really, I do. I know it might not seem like it, but the investigation is still ongoing. I can promise you, it’s being handled.”

Anger boils inside of me like lava, threatening to spill over and destroy everything around me at any moment. I swear these assholes are pre-programmed to say the same thing on repeat. And I’m so sick of this same old song and dance. All my life they’ve been spoon-feeding me this bullshit. Foster carers, social workers, police, and everyone else telling me they know what’s best. I’ve been ping ponged around the system so much I barely have the energy to fight it anymore.

That’s what they want. They want me to go back home and give up. They assume that eventually, as the months roll by and turn into years, the pain will fade and I’ll just forget she ever existed. But that isn’t going to happen. I won’t give up on her, ever.

I take a deep breath and shove the worn photograph across the desk. A four-by-five snapshot of a rare candid moment. Talia is smiling and glancing over her shoulder with the purest eyes you’ve ever seen. She’s never been much of a smiler, honestly. Too many demons. But I caught this one on film, and it’s something I’ve always treasured. I want them to know she was a real person, with real feelings. Plus, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my research, it’s that the news outlets love to talk about the girls with a pretty smile.

“Just look at her face,” I plead. “Look at this girl. Not her file number, but her face. She’s not a street walker, or a call girl, or whatever the hell it is you think that makes her less important. She doesn’t do drugs, and she isn’t a criminal. Her name is Talia Parker.”

My lip trembles, but I go on. I’m not a crier. If my dad were here, he’d be telling me to get my shit together. Emotions are a luxury that Wilder’s can’t afford. That philosophy bled into our relationship too, staining or strengthening it, depending on how you look at it. He told me not to cry, so I didn’t. He told me not to care about anyone, so I didn’t. I squashed it all down and locked it up deep inside of me. Truthfully, I feel too much. But you wouldn’t know that about me. Nobody does.

Because I’m always in control.

The way Agent Cameron’s looking at me right now though, you’d think I was hysterical. I don’t care what she thinks. I just need to get through to her.

“We grew up together in foster care.” A strangled laugh bursts from my chest. “I know it’s such a cliché, right?”

My voice is maniacal now, as are Agent Cameron’s eyes as she watches me come unhinged. I forge on anyhow.

“If you read her file, then you know. You know she’s already slipped through the cracks once. Please…”

To her credit, Agent Cameron does actually look at Talia’s face. She takes it all in, for at least a good minute. It makes me feel better, this one small act of kindness. Most of the others couldn’t even do that much.

“She’s a very pretty girl.” Agent Cameron clears her throat and pushes the photo back towards me. “And if we find anything else, I promise you we’ll be in touch, Miss Wilder.”

The walls are closing in on me. Everything is fading, shrinking, condensing. I want to scream. To punch something. To act like a complete lunatic. I want to tear this lame office apart and stomp her nameplate into the floor.

Instead, I take another breath. That isn’t going to help my case.

“What about the evidence I brought you?” I demand.

Agent Cameron frowns and shuffles through Talia’s bank statements and all of the information I could gather so far, which isn’t a whole helluva lot. I’m grasping at straws. I know that.

“This isn’t exactly evidence,” she says. “All this proves was that she made cash deposits into her bank account every two weeks. Without a check, we have no way to trace who that money was from.”

“It’s from them.” I ball my hands into fists. “I can promise you.”

Her lips flatten, and I know she’s about to kick me out any minute.

“What about the other girls?” I press. “Don’t you think it’s strange that the missing person cases in this area have spiked over the last year? They’re all young, pretty girls. They have to be going somewhere.”

“I can assure you we have all of our best agents looking into it,” she says. “But at present there’s no connection for any of these girls to Slainte. Your friend is the only one who even had ties to the club, if what you say is true, and even so, there’s no evidence to that fact.”

“Send an agent in undercover,” I urge. “Then you’ll see. You’ll find out what’s really going on there.”

“We don’t have the resources for something like that,” she says. “And without any inkling of proof, our hands are tied.”

Proof.

That’s what it always comes down to. Of course they aren’t going to leave proof. They’re the fucking mob. What do these people expect, a giant neon sign that says we do underhand business dealings here? I’m sure the feds are already aware of it. Everybody in this city is. But that’s the problem. You never know which one of these assholes is on their team.

I tap my foot and dart my eyes around the office like a junkie. I hate these confines. These gray walls and the smell of recycled air. Proof. Where else can I get proof?

My eyes snap up to Agent Cameron’s, and I make my boldest suggestion yet.

“Send me in,” I say. “I’ll go undercover. No need to pay me. You can just liaise with me or whatever the hell you call it.”

She presses her lips together and the shutters come down over her eyes.

“We would never authorize anything like that Miss Wilder,” she says firmly. “So please don’t go getting any bright ideas.”

She grabs the requisite white business card she’s going to send me packing with and stands up. I follow, because it’s clear there’s no help to be found here.

“If you think of anything else that might help the case, you can call this number,” she offers.

I take the card and crumple it in my fist as I give her an icy smile.

“Thanks for your time,” I tell her.

When I walk out the door and fling myself into a cab, I come to my own conclusions. Agent Cameron is wrong. And there on the creaky vinyl with a cabbie who smells like salami, I find a smile in the bleakness. Because whether she condones it or not, I think my idea might just work. In fact, I think it’s the brightest frigging idea I’ve had in six months.

Chapter One

Lachlan

The city of Boston is washed out, the sky a blanket of gray. An Irish goodbye for the grand-da I never had the chance to truly know.

One by one, the lads come forward to speak their final piece. Niall and Ronan remain by my side, quiet. Condolences are carried away on the Autumn breeze, faintly spoken, and seldom heard. My bones are heavy, clothing soaked, and all that remains is the crispness of an air that only comes after a storm.

Finally, they’ve gone.

When my turn comes about and I stand over his coffin, words fail me, as they often do. Neither of us ever found the right thing to say to another when he was here on earth. What use would it be now?

The white lily in my hand wilts before my eyes. Apart from myself, Carrick was the last remaining Crow. His final wishes weigh heavy on my soul. The burden of making him proud. Carrying on his legacy and his bloodline. How could I deny a dying man his last hope, sputtered between bloody gasps?

It wasn’t false comfort. Every word I uttered to him in those final moments was a promise to him. I will do him proud. I will follow his footsteps to the gates of hell if necessary to keep my word to him. The man who raised me. The man who gave me everything.

On the whisper of a Catholic prayer, the bloom falls onto the glossy wood surface and he’s lowered into the ground. Niall and I repeat the sign of the cross, reciting the code Carrick abided by for the last thirty years. The same code we all abide by.

“Family, loyalty, honor, and blood. Tis the only thing that’s true.”

Niall allows me one final moment and then bows his head.

“Come and take a walk with me.”

The cemetery is somber, cloyed with death and the accompanying grief. The grass beneath our shoes, littered with the dying of the Autumn leaves. I myself have no room in my heart for grief. My peace with death was made long ago. A man does not enter this life with expectations of immortality. Carrick would be honored to give his life for the syndicate. As would I.

It will not do to dwell on it now. Later, there will be time for such things. For now, I dutifully follow Niall up the stone steps of St. Marcellina’s. The solid oak doors open without protest. Wooden pews line the aisle, the air laced with the scent of wine and repentance. At the end of the aisle, I kneel and recite a prayer for the departed.

I do not fancy myself a good man. Like any Catholic, the guilt of my sins often weighs heavy on my conscience. Little does it change who I am. As a small boy of eight my mammy told me I should not be like my father. So it stands to reason I’ve wanted this life ever since. My path was chosen, and I would do it again. Our outfit is ruled by loyalty and honor. Family. The thing I respect most. We don’t deal in society’s scheme of respectable business, but we still have morals. If an act of evil is to stain my soul, it will be for one of my own. We look out for each other. Protect each other. If hell is the price to pay for my sins on earth, then so be it.

This family is the only one I have left now.

After a while, Niall sits beside me and retrieves a flask from his suit jacket. There is no bother with formalities or religion on his part. The man gave up on God long ago. It was only out of respect for Carrick that he prayed today.

He holds the flask towards me, and I take a nip of the good stuff. Niall always has the good stuff. The alter becomes our focal point as silence remains. It’s a quality I appreciate in him. As a leader, Niall’s stoic nature instills more fear than any loud mouthed half-wit ever will.

He reaches into his pocket, and my grand-da’s Saint Anthony medal dangles from his leather glove.

“He’d have wanted ye to have this, son.”

Tracing the etched gold beneath my fingers, an ache I never knew grows inside of me. He could have chosen any Saint, but this is the one he settled on. Carrick never feared death, but rather losing his soul.

“I know ye’re hurting, Lachlan,” Niall says. “Ye didn’t have near enough time with him.”

“No. I didn’t.”

Fifteen years wasn’t enough time to know a man like my grand-da. I don’t reckon it could be accomplished in fifty, stilted as our relationship was. A quiet man, he was. Strong and proud, but always quiet. Never knew much of being a father figure. Didn’t fancy himself one when I turned up on his doorstep at sixteen. He took me in anyway.

Didn’t bother me much, really. My grand-da was from a different generation. One that believed in keeping the lineage strong and true. I was only too happy to follow in his footsteps. At the age of sixteen, I was inducted into the MacKenna Syndicate. Proudest day of my life to swear that blood oath. He never said so, but Carrick was proud too.

He started out the old ways. Armored trucks and bank jobs. Drugs and gambling. Those things, he knew. The only ways he knew. He brought me into the fold, but it was the man who sits beside me now who made me what I am. He’s been my mentor over the last decade. Took on the role Carrick couldn’t. Together, we’ve moved the outfit into modern times. Every step of the way, Carrick fought it. The syndicate as it stands today, this is not my grand-da’s mafia. Niall believed cleaning up our act was the only way to thrive. Eventually, Carrick came around.

Doesn’t matter now. He’s gone. The Saint Anthony medallion burns against my palm. My bloodline is dead. We’re closer than ever to an alliance with the Russians, but one of our own is lost. It doesn’t seem a fair sacrifice.

Things will change now. Already it lingers between Niall and I. This weight of responsibility. The burden of proving my loyalty to the man beside me and affirming my dedication to the syndicate. Carrick’s shoes won’t be easy to fill, but you won’t find one more eager than me to pay his dues. Niall won’t give it easily. Sean will challenge me for the role. By birth, he has more rights to be Niall’s successor than I ever will. But I want it. The taste lingers on my lips with how badly I want it.

“Do ye believe ye’re ready for what comes next?” Niall asks.

“Aye.”

Blood will be shed. Heads will roll. And there will be wedding bells in the future.

That’s the only part I struggle to get onboard with. But I will if Niall chooses me. There isn’t a thing I won’t do for the syndicate. To seal this alliance and do right by Carrick. I will take my Russian bride, along with my rightful place as Niall’s second in command.

Nothing and no one will stand in the way of that.

“I’d like to run point on this,” I tell Niall.

Dark eyes find mine, glinting with respect. From his hair to his features, everything about Niall is dark. Men cower and exult in his presence. He is hard. But fair, too. This is how I know he will agree to my request.

“I’d expect nothing less.”

Silence falls between us as he gives some thought to the matter.

“Ye can go tomorrow.”

“Tonight,” I insist.

His eyes appraise me, weighing my motivations.

“The funeral is today,” I point out. “We won’t be expected. Already, they’ve made arrangements to change the location of a shipment on Saturday. They’re preparing for the obvious.”

Niall drums his fingers against the flask and then nods. “Let the Russians have it for their troubles. A token of our appreciation.”

My fist crushes the medal in my palm with the force of adrenaline pumping through my veins. Bloodlust. Revenge.

I’ve a taste for it tonight.

Niall glances at his watch and then stands up. “Well if ye’re going this evening, you best get on with it then.”

Together, we walk out the front doors. Before we part ways, he slaps me on the shoulder and squeezes.

“Ye’ve lost your grand-da,” he says. “But know that you’ll always be considered me son.”

***

“So this is the place, hey?” Rory stares up at the weathered house from our position on the footpath. “Figures the cunts would live here.”

Not a one of us feels remorse for what comes next. This Armenian gang is only growing in number with each passing day, intent on staking their claim. They’ve stepped on toes. Our toes, to be precise, and the Russians as well. But it isn’t just us. I hear the Italians have been taking issue with them too.

Stepping on toes is one thing. Shooting up the deli where my grand-da was meeting with the Russians? Entirely another. There’s only one price to be paid for such an act.

Ronan takes his rightful spot at my side, and the rest of the lads follow suit.

“How’d ye like to do this, then?” asks Ronan.

“Yeah, boss,” mimics Sean. “How’d you want to do this?”

We walk up onto the porch. I haven’t any instructions for them except one.

“Kill them all.”

Chapter Two

Mackenzie

Leaning forward for balance, I curl my knees in to rest on the back of my arms.

Crow pose.

It’s a simple posture. A two-step process, broken into the most basic of arm balances. And yet it took me forever to master. If I were the type to mentally dissect and examine the reasons behind this- which I’m not- it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out.

The crow symbolizes many things in different cultures. Magic, transcendence, destiny, intellectual awakening. A physical representation of the space between heaven and earth. The interpretations are vast and far reaching. But when the magic and lore have been stripped away, all that’s left is reality. For me, only one interpretation comes to mind. At its most basic, and especially to me, the crow symbolizes death.

My eyes fall shut as I straighten my arms and exhale, sending my legs up into a perfect handstand. Three deep breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth. My balance has never been better. Coordination is on point. Core strength? Rock solid. I could probably hold this pose for a couple hours if I really wanted to. But before I even get a chance to gloat, Scarlett smacks her gum from across the room.

“You’re losing focus, Mack.”

I smirk and melt into Scorpion pose without a response. She knows damn well I’m as focused as I’ve ever been, but she’d rather die than admit it. Scarlett doesn’t want me to go on my insane pilgrimage. Over the last few months she’s resorted to some pretty creative speeches as testament to that, so the fact that we’re back to this old ploy tells me this is her last ditch effort. It would be sweet if she didn’t look so defeated.

Dressed in the second skin she calls a black dress and tall red heels, there’s no doubt where she’s off to tonight. Out of ten, Scarlett’s a fifteen. A drop dead knockout. It’s too bad she doesn’t even know it. Her brunette hair is teased to perfection as always, her hazel eyes lined with Kohl, and her cute little glitter clutch is no doubt chock full of condoms.

Scarlett’s a call girl, and another friend I picked up on the street. It just so happened to be her dark alley that two guys pushed me and Tal into one night. I was thirteen at the time, and hard as bricks for my age, but not tough enough to take on two guys. Scarlett was four years older, and a hell of a lot wiser, and also… she carried a knife. She saved me that night, much as it pains me to admit it.

We aren’t as close as Tal and I were, but we’re about as close as two people like us can be I suppose. She’s just another run of the mill kid who fell through the system’s cracks with a story that managed to thaw even my cold heart. If there’s anyone who knows what makes a man tick, it’s Scarlett.

Easing back onto the floor, my gaze finds hers as I stretch out my legs. “The day I lose focus is the day that I die.”

Those were my father’s words, and they’ve never been truer. He lost focus when he got involved with the Russians, and now he’s six feet under. I don’t want to believe I’m destined to the same fate, and yet this world keeps pulling me back in.

“You want to know what I think, babe?” Scarlett crosses her legs and smooths out a wrinkle in her dress.

“Nope.” I roll my neck from side to side until it cracks. “I don’t.”

She continues on anyway. Our usual routine.

“I think you should take all of that money you saved up, give it to that private investigator of yours, and focus on things you can control. Like going to college or doing something with your life.”

“Hmmph.” I snort. “Says you. How come I can do that, but you can’t, Scarlett?”

She’s quiet for a moment, her pretty face falling with defeat.

“You don’t have to do this,” she insists.

“And you don’t have to go out tonight and sell your body,” I retort.

She sighs and finishes for me. “And yet we both will.”

“It is what it is, Scarlett. We’re fucked up. But Talia…”

I don’t finish that thought. There’s no need to. We both know that Talia was the most fucked up out of all of us. She never stood a chance. Even now, speaking her name makes my chest constrict with grief. Scarlett can see it, but doesn’t make a big production of it. She knows me better than that.

“Let me help you,” she offers.

It’s not often I feel warmth in my cold, dead heart. But as my eyes rove over Scarlett’s tiny form on the sofa, I do. Beneath her barbed wire armor lies a heart of gold. She’s far too good to be hanging out with the likes of me, and yet here she is.

“I need you to stay out of it,” I tell her. “You know that.”

What little light that remains in her eyes dims, but it’s for her protection. Scarlett has self-destructive tendencies. She likes to be reckless. It’s her own fucked up way of coping with the things that happened to her. But I do not and will not condone that behavior for her.

Myself, however, is a different story. We both know this is my last day in Southie. Tomorrow I’m moving to a shitty motel in Roxbury and beginning a new chapter of my life. One in a world I may not make it out of alive. If Talia’s track record is anything to go by, then there’s every chance I won’t be. I refuse to bring anyone else into this mess, so as agreed upon previously, she won’t be kept in the loop.

I’m going to miss the hell out of her.

She’s the closest thing to family I’ve got left. I never had any real siblings, and my mother died before I was even out of diapers. Cancer.

But my father though?

He was a fucking legend.

Jack ‘the hammerfist’ Wilder. The reigning champion in Boston’s seedy underworld of boxing. Until he wasn’t. When the Russians couldn’t beat him with their fists, they beat him with a blunt knife in a dark alley.

I think my dad always knew he wasn’t long for this world. He only sped up the process by getting involved with the mob. I guess he felt by passing on the Wilder ways he’d give me a fighting chance. I was still in diapers when he started teaching me how to throw a punch. He didn’t know anything else. The man ate, breathed, and lived for boxing. He always said he couldn’t help me with math or teach me how to cook, but he could show me how to defend myself.

To me it was priceless. I learned to be scrappy, and never to apologize for shit. He showed me that I didn’t have to be the biggest or the toughest, I just needed to know how to hit where it hurts. And the Russians hit me where it hurts when they took him from me.

There was nothing I could do about it at the tender age of thirteen. But there’s plenty I can do about Talia. Pricks like the Russians and these Irish gangsters who run Slainte think they can do whatever the hell they want without consequence. That might be true in most cases, but they haven’t met the likes of me.

I’m the daughter of Jack Wilder. A third generation Irish-American with champion’s blood running through my veins. I was raised on the streets of Southie, and I’m not afraid of anyone. I’ll take on every single one of those motherfuckers and I’ll do it with a smile on my face. And when it’s all over, they will rue the day they ever met or fucked with Talia Parker.

More than likely sensing my train of thought, Scarlett shoots me a knowing glance.

“Do you want to take my lucky knife, just in case?”

“Naw.” I grin at her. “You need that for your clients. My body is a deadly weapon.”

My sense of humor doesn’t even faze Scarlett in the slightest. “It isn’t as easy as you think, Mack. I’ll tell you that much. Don’t forget what it’s like when you’re outnumbered.”

I hop up off my mat and windmill my arms.

I know she’s right, but I’m not going to let her see it. Scarlett’s been selling her body for years. Her soul jumped ship a long time ago. She would know better than anyone what it’s like to be outnumbered. The horror is still written in her eyes. And yet she continues to put herself at risk every day. I made peace with her decisions a long time ago. You can’t change a leopard’s spots. Broken people can only fix themselves.

As for me, I’m painfully aware that I can’t rewrite history. Whatever happened to Talia is done. I can’t change that either. But I will get my answers.  I’m going to get Agent Cameron her proof, and I’ll march back in there and slap it on her sad desk with a smile on my face and brighten her whole fucking year.

Scarlett watches me stretch with feigned indifference. She has the same dull look on her face every day I do my three-hour practice. But even she can’t hide the small glint of pride in her eyes at how far I’ve come.

The last six months have been entirely dedicated to this. A combination of martial arts, yoga and pilates helps me stay strong and focused without building too much muscle tone. Scarlett says I can use this to my advantage because at five-foot-two I’m about as intimidating as a kitten. People underestimate me, and I plan to use and abuse that in every way possible.

“You’re going to kick ass,” she says.

“I always do.” I blow her a kiss and head to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“Just… be careful, okay?”

I pause when I hear the slight tremor in her voice. It makes a little ball of emotion form in my throat. I promptly choke it back down.

“How much longer do you have?” I ask her.

“An hour,” she says. “Enough time to quiz you on all the different ways to bring a man to his knees. Theoretically, of course.”

She says it like I’m going to fail, so I rub my hands together and shoot her an evil grin.

“Bring it on, Scarlett. Bring it on.”

Chapter Three

Mackenzie

Boston is a cultural melting pot. One steeped in a rich history of corruption, oppression, and bloodshed. This city was built off the back of immigrants. Immigrants like my great grandfather.

When he and his brothers left Ireland to escape British rule, they dreamt of a better life. Unbeknownst to them they were coming to a society that deemed them scum the moment they stepped off the boat.

But as everyone knows, the Irish are known for their fighting spirit, and they didn’t give up so easily. Back then, everybody was fighting for a piece of the pie. Alliances were formed and turf wars waged. Turns out, not a lot has changed over time. The corruption is better hidden, but the alliances still breathe. Sure, the gangs have had their rise and falls. The Italians, the Irish, the Russians… they’ve all been burnt to the ground and resurrected more times than I can count. That’s the thing about organized crime, it never really goes away. When one powerhouse falls, there will always be other players ready to step up and take the reins. They all want to run this town.

It’s a carefully balanced act. They each have their alliances, their territories. You don’t step on my toes, I won’t step on yours. In modern day Boston, there are still many players in the game. Big and small fish. But it’s the Russians and the Irish that make up one of the powerhouses now. You see, the Irish learned a thing or two from history. While the lone wolf act was cool back in the day, it also wasn’t smart. The Italians had an entire hierarchy that worked for a reason. You’ve got my back, I’ve got yours. La familia isn’t just for show. You mess with one guy, you mess with the whole damn family.

And that’s exactly how things work in the MacKenna Syndicate. Direct descendants of the Bedford Row Bandits, they come out of the womb with bloodlust stamped in their DNA. Except, unlike their predecessors, they’ve evolved to the times. They have bosses and underbosses and captains just like every other modern organized crime syndicate. And they also have cops, senators, judges and a long list of others on their payroll. Oh and one other thing. An iron-clad agreement with one of the biggest factions of the Russian bratva in this city.

My point with all of this? You don’t want to fuck with this crew.

And yet, that’s exactly what I plan to do. I’m about to walk straight into the seedy underbelly of one of the city’s largest criminal organizations and poke my nose where it doesn’t belong.

If it were anyone else, I might be able to sit back and pretend someone else gave a fuck. But it’s not anyone else, it’s Talia. She’s been by my side since I met her in foster care nine years ago. There’s a bond between orphans that just can’t be replicated. Sharing that experience of having nobody else in the world to rely on. Talia and I came to rely on each other. Until the state separated us and sent her somewhere else.

When she told me that her new foster dad was molesting her, I promptly went over there and smashed his nuts in with a baseball bat. After that, things got a lot sketchier. It wasn’t easy being a couple young kids on the streets of South Boston. But just like my grandpappy did when he arrived here, we found others like us and formed a union. Us against the world.

The state tracked us down eventually, and we ended up in a group home together, but it was touch and go for a few years there. Thanks to Scarlett and a few other kind souls, I never once had to sell my body. I am however an excellent lock picker and made more than a few bucks in some back alley fights. Talia, though… she didn’t have the same durability as I did. She was soft and sensitive and still believed the world to be a good place. It only made it that much more important for me to protect her.

And during our years on the streets, I did. But when we got older and moved into our first apartment together, things changed. As it turns out, there aren’t a whole lot of opportunities for girls like us. Talia wanted to get a job to pull her fair share of the rent, and for her that meant dabbling in underground clubs. Then she started hanging out with bad men, letting them use her.

I didn’t know how to stop her downward spiral. We weren’t kids anymore, and Talia had a whole host of problems I didn’t know how to fix. Before I even got a chance to try, she went missing. Right after she got a job working for the Irish.

Coincidence? I don’t believe in them.

Maybe the Irish are responsible for her, maybe they aren’t. Either way, this is what I know. I know that the Russians hang out in their club. And I know that one of those Russians took a very strong interest in her.

I couldn’t get a name out of her. She thought I was too jaded and was just trying to rain on her parade with my warnings. I didn’t want to be right. God knows I never wanted to be right.

Now the only thing I can do is find out who he is. That’s what I keep telling myself as I glance in the mirror and take a deep breath. My fingers sweep over the heart-shaped pendant resting between my collar bones before I remove it completely and hold it in the palm of my hand.

“I’m doing this for you, Tal,” I whisper. “Whatever it takes.”

The tightness in my chest is almost too much right now. My motivation has never been clearer and I don’t need the pendant to remember that. I stash it with my other belongings and focus on grounding myself.

My dad was a boxing champion. The scrappiest, toughest, baddest dude to ever grace the streets of Boston. His father before that? The same. Now it’s up to me to continue the legacy. I might be a girl, but that means jack shit in my family. We’re Irish. This shit is in our DNA. We love to fight. We love to brawl. And we love to have an audience for it. I know I’m a damn good fighter, but I’d be lying if I said I still wasn’t a little bit nervous.

Those men out there? They’re fucking animals, every last one of them. They won’t take it easy on me because I’m a woman. It wasn’t easy for me to sweet talk Johnny into letting me do this. He wouldn’t have if he didn’t believe I could handle it. But Johnny knew my father, and he’d seen that his blood ran true in my veins. I’d proven myself again and again in his gym over the last six months. And it’s all led up to this moment.

One no holds barred fight with Boston underground’s biggest and baddest competitors. The first and most important step in my plan. There isn’t a fight that goes by the Irish and Russians don’t place bets on. It’s in their blood to love this sport.

Unfortunately for me, I can’t just walk into Slainte and ask for a job. In their world it doesn’t work that way. They hire people they trust. And the only way to get on that list is to build a rapport. So the quickest way for me to get their attention?

You guessed it. I’m gonna’ knock one of these motherfuckers out.

Which one of them takes the bait makes no difference to me. I only need one to take an interest in me. And there’s nothing the Irish respect more than a damn good fight.

I glance at myself in the mirror and steel my nerves with another deep breath as I crack my knuckles and do a couple of shoulder rolls. I’m in the best shape of my life and more ready than I’ll ever be. My long raven hair is braided and thrown over my shoulder. A light sheen of sweat coats my pale white skin as I shift from foot to foot. My blue eyes are electric, even without a scrap of makeup on my face. I can literally feel the energy humming through my body, breathing life into me as I recite my father’s creed in my head.

“You’ll knock em’ dead.” Scarlett smiles from behind me.

I spin around and cross my arms, hitting her with the meanest glare I can muster up. “What the hell, Scarlett? I told you not to come here, it’s dangerous.”

She shrugs, of course. “Do you think these guys are any worse than the ones I deal with on a nightly basis? And I came here to watch you fight. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The pride in her voice is unmistakable and I smile in spite of myself. I really shouldn’t because it only encourages her. And I want Scarlett as far away from this as possible.

“The very minute it’s over you get out of here,” I tell her. “Go straight home and make sure nobody follows you. And while I’m out there, you’re just another observer.”

She nods to pacify me though I know she hasn’t listened to a word I just said. Before I have time to reiterate, Johnny comes in.

“You ready, Mack?”

I nod and slip into my robe, placing the hood over my hair to conceal my face. “Yep.”

Johnny grins and shakes his head just as the music starts up. I picked it myself. LL Cool J’s Mama Said Knock You Out.

Cute, huh?

Johnny slaps me on the shoulder, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that his eyes look a little glassy.

“Your dad would be real proud of you Mack,” he says. “Now go show them how a Wilder takes care of business.”

I nod and follow Johnny out of the room in time to the beat of the music. This sport is all about posturing, and even though they can’t see me yet, I’m going to give them the show they came for. Every step I take gets me pumped up to step into the makeshift ring.

My competitor stands across from me at the ready, and I already know he towers over me. I’ve seen him fight before, which helps to ease my nerves a little. He’s decent, but his fighting style is all street and not technically trained. Plus, he lets his arrogance and temper get the best of him and already, it’s plastered all over his face. He thinks he’s fighting a little man, and this is going to be the easiest money he ever made.

I wait until the music stops and Johnny starts his spiel.

“Ladies and gents are you ready?”

The entire crowd erupts into raucous cheers and applause, infusing the atmosphere with a wild energy that only comes with this kind of blood sport. The smell of stale sweat permeates the air, along with the heat of far too many bodies cramped into the dusty old warehouse. This is it. The moment I love. The moment I live for. I bounce back and forth on the balls of my feet as Johnny makes his announcement.

“Fighting out of Dorchester… standing at five feet eleven inches tall, weighing in at one hundred and ninety pounds… Donovan ‘the hook’ O’Connor.”

The boofhead slugs his fists together and spins in a circle to amp up the crowd as they shout and cheer for him. Talk about an overconfident prick. The only thing I care about is that I’ve got the audience’s attention. I cast a glance in the direction of the Russians and take mental note of who’s here tonight.

None of them look familiar. My dad only let me around his own crew, and whenever these guys came around, he made me skedaddle. But right now, they’ve all got eyes on me. That’s good. I glance back at the Irish. The only familiar faces I see are the ones I managed to get some dirt on. The boss isn’t here, but his captains are. And one in particular is staring at me with dark curiosity. Lachlan Crow. He’s third in line to the throne of the Irish underworld, and his reputation proceeds him.

Hell on wheels. He’ll kill you and he’ll do it with a smile on his face. Or so I’m told. I don’t know for certain what his role is besides running Slainte but the stories running rampant about him vary wildly. I’ve wondered if half of them are simple lore, intended to make him seem more dangerous than he really is. But one look at his face, completely devoid of any emotion, and I know they must be true.

You can tell his men respect him, standing like sentinels at his side. Not directly next to him, just a couple inches back. They don’t see themselves as equals to Lachlan. And a man in this life doesn’t gain that kind of respect without doing heinous things and instilling fear in those around him.

I’ve done some research on these guys, of course, but not as much as I would have liked. I couldn’t do a background check, so my information mostly came from word on the street. That’s one of the benefits of being from Southie.

Of course Lachlan’s name is engraved into my brain. He runs Slainte. He’s the gatekeeper of the one place that I need to be to get my information. I hoped to get his attention, but I didn’t expect it to be so intense. I figured he’d give me a cursory glance, and then I could use one of his soldiers to get me an audition with him. But he’s staring directly at me. There’s no way he can see my face beneath the hood of my robe, but for a moment I almost think he can. His gaze is so sharp, so penetrating that it’s a little disarming. I jerk my eyes away and focus on my opponent. I’ll worry about Lachlan after. When I’ve kicked Donovan’s ass.

“Fighting out of Southie,” Johnny continues. “Standing at five feet two inches tall, weighing in at one hundred and twenty pounds… Mack ‘the butterfly’ Wilder.”

As expected, there are some confused murmurs. Once this robe is off, everybody in this building will know who I am. There’s no going back after this.

I jerk the robe off and toss it aside, and the entire arena goes dead silent, including my cocky opponent. Maybe it’s just my paranoia, but for a moment, he looks at me like he recognizes me. Which is impossible. I’ve always made sure to keep a low profile when I come watch the fights.

I didn’t hear an Irish accent when he was stirring up the crowd, so I know he’s from Boston. But I’m also certain this is the only place I’ve ever seen him before. He’s older than me, probably by about five years, so I doubt we have any friends in common either.

He cocks his head to the side, and I catch sight of a large scar on his cheek. Probably from fighting, no doubt. His beady black eyes rake over my body, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize he’s just examining me.

“You’ve gotta’ be shittin’ me Johnny,” he says.

He looks around the room with a nervous expression, seeking out Lachlan. I have no doubts that Donovan isn’t afraid of hitting a girl. But he needs permission from his superior to go through with a spectacle like this. Curious myself, I follow his gaze and find Lachlan scowling at me. He isn’t at all comfortable with this, and I’ve put him in a hella awkward position. All of his men are staring at him with bated breath, wondering if he’ll allow himself to look weak. To disappoint all of the fans that came here tonight. I flash him a challenging smile. What’s it gonna’ be Crow?

After an imperceptible nod from Lachlan, Johnny shrugs and winks at me. “She’s earned her way in, Donny. She’s up for it.”

Sensing his skittishness, I turn my attention back to my opponent and crack my neck, hitting my wrapped hands together.

“What’s the matter princess, scared of a little girl?”

His jaw is popping now, his biceps flexing as tension seeps through his body. Boxing is considered a gentleman’s sport. Toss a woman into the mix and they have no fucking clue how to handle it. Lucky for me, this isn’t boxing.

Though I was trained as a boxer first and foremost, I wanted to be more. I wanted to be able to defend myself in any circumstances.

Many people think of MMA as a bunch of caveman crap, but I recognize it for the art it is. It isn’t just about brute strength. It’s about stamina, control, coordination, and learning to trust your instincts. To move fluidly and confidently. Never doubting yourself or letting your opponent see weakness. In my case, looks can be deceiving, and people have always underestimated me because of it.

“Are you sure about this, babe?” Donovan asks arrogantly. “I won’t hold back.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes. “You’re so big and tough and strong.”

Sick of the back and forth, I walk straight up to him and wait for Johnny to give the signal. He throws down the gauntlet, and I slug Donovan hard and fast with a right hook before bouncing back on my feet. When his head snaps back around, he’s stunned as hell, and the crowd is laughing their asses off.

“Come on,” I bite out. “Cut the bullshit. Let’s give these people what they came for.”

“You’re going to regret that kid,” he snarls under his breath.

I flash him a sweet smile and shift my weight to tighten my stance. Knees bent, elbows tucked and prepared to strike. Two shoulder rolls and a deep breath.

Johnny’s word is law in this joint, and he’s already started the match. There are no set rounds. We go until someone knocks out or taps out. The only rule? No hitting near the junk. Bunch of pussy ass men.

Without any more hesitation, Donovan comes straight at me and throws a quick combo of jabs and crosses. I block and dodge every one of them, which only pisses him off more.

This was one of the first things I learned. Footwork needs to come first, and the rest will follow. In order to be a good fighter, one must be centered and poised. Donovan’s footwork is sloppy. He relies on his fists too much to guide his movements whereas I use my whole body.

That isn’t going to save me though. He has a fight advantage, but they all do. I have the advantage of thinking with my brain and not a cock. Already it’s obvious that my shorts and sports bra are distracting him. Regardless of the fact that I just punched him in the face, he still sees me as a pair of tits and an ass. Go figure.

I use the opportunity to nail him with a left hook and a right low kick. A wheeze escapes his lungs when my heel connects with his shin, and his face contorts into a murderous rage. The crowd roars around us, shouting and cheering us on. Amongst the din, I can make out Scarlett yelling right along.

“Straight from the chin,” she yells out as I take aim. “You’ve got this Mack!”

So much for keeping a low profile. I block her out and focus on the task at hand. I’m not evenly matched in size and won’t have many opportunities to knock Donovan out. My best work with larger opponents is done on the mat. I’ve taken a liking to Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and Judo for situations exactly like these. When I was fighting in back alleys, my opponents were almost always bigger. It can be intimidating if you don’t know how to handle it. But I consider choke holds one of my specialties. I’m hypermobile and therefore it’s a lot easier for me to maneuver on the mat than most. I need to let Donovan get me on the ground so I can grapple with him.

He throws out a left hook that grazes me in the shoulder as I dodge to the side. It hurts like a bitch, and he can see it on my face. He smiles. I hit him with a quick jab-cross combo to throw him off balance and set him up for the power shot. An elbow uppercut strike to the jaw.

This one really pisses him off. And just as I predicted he charges straight at me and uses his brute strength to slam me on the floor. It knocks the wind out of me and sends my tooth into my lip. I make a big production of it with my facial expression and gasping for breath. The whole shebang.

For a split second, he lets his guard down and gets arrogant, thinking he’s already won. Typical of most men, he assumes that since he’s got me on my back he’s asserted his dominance already. A true fighter would know that’s never the case.

I push my hip out before he has a chance to get his arm out of the way. In a flash, I’ve got his arm locked down and my legs positioned perfectly. I barely have time to relish the disbelief on his face before I execute the perfect triangle choke. My thighs squeeze around his neck while he tries to swing wildly with his other arm.

He manages to clip me in the face, but already his strength is waning from the pressure on his neck. He lifts the left side of my torso and tries to body slam me to get out of it. I arch my back and use one arm to block him as best I can while I hold tight. This is it, the real test of my endurance. Every muscle in my body burns from the energy required for this move.

Donovan’s movements grow weak and sluggish as his blood supply is cut off and his air slowly slips away. I count the seconds in my head and block out everything else around me. Three… four… five… six…

Finally, when I think I can’t possibly hold on another second, he goes limp against my body and Johnny comes over to check. He calls the match. I can barely even move as I crawl out beneath him, but the adrenaline drives me up as I scan the crowd around me. I find his crew and flash them an arrogant grin. Take that you bastards.

A few of them walk in to collect their fallen friend as the crowd filters out of the building. I wipe the blood off my lip and watch them curiously while I wait. I only need one of them to bite. One of them to take an interest in me. It can’t be the Russians. They have multiple factions and way too many members to count. The only way to narrow down my pool of suspects is to go straight to the source. The club where it happened.

They’re all tossing glances my way, but it’s Lachlan that doesn’t take his eyes off me. I can’t tell if he’s pissed off or impressed by the expression on his face. Naturally, he’s going to be suspicious of me. They come to these fights every week, and he’s never seen me here before. He’s got no idea who I am, but I know a few things about him.

Word on the street is that he’s twenty-nine years old. Born and raised in Belfast until he migrated to the states in his teens. Grandson of Carrick Crow, the underboss to Niall MacKenna. He runs Slainte and does God knows what else for the syndicate. The rest is a mystery I’m going to have to unravel myself.

My eyes rove over him, taking in every detail. He has a rounded jaw covered in what I’d guess to be about a week’s worth of scruff. It’s a mixture of coppery brown and just a couple shades lighter than the dark unruly hair that rests atop his head. His eyes are guarded and drawn together and probably the most fascinating feature about him. They harden what would otherwise be a soft and almost boyish face. There’s something almost familiar about them, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Sadness, perhaps?

It doesn’t seem possible, but it’s hard to tell. At present, they are drifting over my body. It isn’t a blatantly sexual glance, not at all. In fact, I can’t get a read on his thoughts, which is unusual for me. This man is growing more mysterious by the second.

He stands like a fighter. I can tell by the way he carries himself, but I’ve never seen him fight here. His frame is jacked. Lean, strong, and solid. His hands are calloused in a way that can only come from boxing.

He clears his throat, and my eyes shoot up and lock onto his.

A dark energy crackles to life between us as I stare into those savage irises. They swirl with an intoxicating and vivid array of colors I can’t drag myself away from. I’d swear they were gray, but the next moment they seem to change to blue and then back again. They are both stark and beautiful in a way I didn’t expect. The windows to his otherwise cold exterior.

Violence. Lust. Confliction. Pain.

I draw in a breath and try to convince myself that the bombastic beat of my heart is from the fight alone. The thrill of knowing how close I am to getting my in. I think.

He still hasn’t spoken. But he will. And when he opens his mouth, I have no doubt he’ll still have an accent.

I don’t encourage him. Instead, I unbraid my hair and run shaky fingers through it.  This little war of wills is unexpected. I bet a man like him is accustomed to women falling all over him. There are a few, waiting in the wings, hoping that he’ll notice them. But they haven’t dared to approach him. I guess I’m not the only one who’s heard about his reputation.

As I’m considering it, I catch a glimpse of Donovan charging at me from the corner of my eye. He snarls as he lunges towards me, a need for destruction in his blood.

I dodge back and prepare to hold my ground, but it isn’t even necessary. Lachlan swoops into action and slams his body into Donovan’s side, spinning him around and yanking his arm into a locked position behind his back. It only confirms my earlier suspicion about him being a fighter. Judging by his speed and agility, he’s a natural.

He leans in close and whispers something into Donovan’s ear. Donovan doesn’t take his murderous eyes off me, but whatever Lachlan said has snapped him back to reality. He reluctantly backs down and mutters something under his breath before walking away. It seems like it’s over, but in the back of my mind, I worry that I may have to contend with him later. He doesn’t look like the type who takes being defeated by a woman too easily.

After a conversation with his men that takes place out of earshot, Lachlan stalks over to me, the same dark expression on his face. It pains me to admit it, but he is handsome. He’s also more reserved than I expected. A calm façade to accompany his quiet broodiness. It’s a complete contradiction to the killer I know he is.

He pauses at the concrete pillar across from me, maintaining his distance and keeping his expression neutral.

“Sorry about Donny,” he says. “He can be a bit of a tool.”

Just as I predicted, there’s still an accent. I totally underestimated the charm factor there. It’s rare that I find myself tripping over words, but that’s exactly what I’m doing right now. Still, I school my features and try to look unflappable. I need to focus on the Russian, I remind myself.

“No biggie.”

“Is it not generally an unwritten rule for women to fight in these things?” he asks.

“Well…” I flash him a cocky grin. “Lucky for me I don’t play by the rules.”

I expect him to throw me a bone. A smile. A twitch. Something. But I get nothing.

“Ye defeated one of my best fighters tonight.”

I can’t tell if he means it as a compliment or not, but I take it as one. “Thanks.”

Lachlan remains steadfast in his indifference, and I don’t really know how to shake him of it. I need to play my hand carefully here.

“I don’t recall seeing you around here before, butterfly.”

The way he emphasizes my fighting name sounds like a threat all in itself. I hate to admit it, but this guy is a little more intimidating than I want to give him credit for.

I blink up at him, formulating a plan. I’m going to play up the fragile little woman card in hopes it’ll soften him towards me when I pop back up later. I doubt he has any heartstrings to pull, but it can’t hurt to try.

“I only fight when I need the money.”

Lachlan narrows his eyes, and I know he isn’t buying it. He taps his fingers against his thigh, and for a brief moment, I almost wonder if he’s nervous. But then I notice his eyes darting to some men across the room. I turn and my face sours on visual impact. The frigging Russians. They’re eyeing me off, but one of them in particular is looking right at Lachlan.

I flash them a sweet smile and wave. I hate them. I hate them all.

When I turn back to Lachlan, he seems agitated, but it dissipates quickly.

“I have to head on,” he says. “Catcha, butterfly.”

My jaw clenches to keep my mouth from falling open. At the very least, I hoped he’d ask me for a drink. My phone number. Something. But his blatant rejection stings, more than I want to admit.

I knew I should have flirted with one of his soldiers, but he totally cock blocked the hell out of that plan.

“Yeah,” I grumble. “See you around then.”

Chapter Four

Lachlan

The very moment I depart from the girl, the lads are back at my side, talking their usual shite. Distraction and agitation war in my mind as I approach the waiting party. He’s a big fella with a whole load of tattoos up and down his neck. The beef of the operation, the Russians use this one for threat. Boris, his name is. He looks like one too.

His head jerks in the direction of the door. One of them wants a word with me. A silent nod lets him know I’ll be along shortly.

“Wait here,” I tell the lads. “And keep an eye on Donny. Don’t let him back near the girl.”

Ronan nods, and I follow the soldier out the door. A black car idles at the curb, the windows too dark to see within. In the back seat, Alexei waits for me. This turn of events catches me off guard, which is rare form, I’d like to say.

In the Russian bratva, Alexei is known as the Ghost. It’s a privilege to know him in person, since very few people do. The brains of the entire gambling operation, this one right here. Also, considerably the Russian’s most valuable asset. Personal sojourns like this don’t come about often, so already I know this is important.

He has my full attention. Something most people don’t know about Alexei is the lad’s almost full blown deaf. He reads lips very well and does so without being too obvious. The only reason I picked up on it myself was because my nanna did the same. We have a routine where I pretend I don’t know, and he agrees I don’t either.

“To what do I owe this special journey?” I ask.

“Viktor called,” Alexei replies. “The girl. She’s one of yours?”

His words catch me off guard, and Alexei doesn’t miss it. He never misses anything. Before I can calculate a response, I work on sussing out his motives.

Besides the obvious, Alexei has one very blaring weakness. Women. This same weakness urges him to drink the glass of Cognac in his hand. It would also be the very reason for those bloodshot eyes and the darkness on his face for the last few months. Something I can relate to. Women bring about nothing but trouble. Word is this last bird of his really did a number on him. Lucky for me, I’ve a cure for that. Avoiding them entirely.

I’d have figured by now Alexei would be on the same page in that regard. So what in the bleeding hell does he want with the girl? She isn’t my business. But judging by Alexei’s face, whatever the issue is, he’s about to make it my business.

“She’s Irish,” he remarks. “Yes?”

“Aye.” She’s American Irish, but to them it’s all the same.

“So she’s one of yours?”

He wants me to say yes. For that reason alone, the word no lingers on my lips. Trouble. I can feel it coming.

“Right.” I sigh. “What’s this about, lad?”

He sighs too and then leans back against his seat. He knows as well as I do if the girl were ours he’d already be aware of it.

“I believed the girl to be yours,” explains Alexei. “This is what I told Viktor.”

Viktor, as in his boss. Already, I don’t like the direction this is heading.

“Care to tell me why?” I ask.

“Ivan has an issue with her. Viktor would like a trade once the alliance is sealed. The girl for the traitor.”

Fucks sake. I scrub my hands over my head and release a breath. The Russians still don’t know whose been betraying them. As part of the negotiations, Niall has asked that the traitor be handed over to us as payment for Carrick’ death. Something I’m very much looking forward to.

Adding that girl to the deal has caught me off guard.

“Viktor realizes this may take some time,” Alexei adds. “So he asks that you handle it for the time being.”

“Handle it, as in…?”

“Keep her under control.”

A pause falls, and then, “for the sake of the alliance, of course.”

I’ve no blasted idea what this girl’s involved in. And now they want her under our protection? Pure bollocks. Things are too unstable. Too volatile. Alexei is well aware of this. Spotted it from twenty feet away that girl is trouble.

“Ivan feels she is a threat,” Alexei carries on. “Given that she’s a possible witness to our business dealings with her father. Things did not end well with that relationship. Ivan’s been looking for her for years.”

That’s a load of shite if I ever heard one. There’s no way that girl in there has been evading the Russian mob. If that were true, she’d have better sense than to walk into the fights tonight like she did. She didn’t seem the least concerned about them.

I don’t want to ask the next question. But it comes unbidden.

“Have ye any plans for this girl yet?”

Alexei nods, glancing out the window. “She will be given a choice. She can marry one of ours who will take full responsibility for her.”

He doesn’t have to tell me what the flip side of that choice is. There could only be one. They feel she’s a threat, and so this archaic compromise seems to be the girl’s only option at this stage. I might feel some sympathy for her if I wasn’t bound for the same fate myself. The Russians are fond of their arranged marriages. If I’m to take my place by Niall’s side, I will first have to take the leap with one of Viktor’s daughters.

Jaysus Christ.

I’ve no doubt Alexei handpicked me to deliver this information. He believes me to be soft like him. We don’t generally involve women in our business. By giving Viktor his assurances and relinquishing the burden of responsibility to us, the lad’s jacked me arseways. I’m bound by honor to the impending alliance. This is everything we’ve been working for. The means to get my revenge on the man responsible for Carrick’s death and uniting our factions.

And now we must use the girl as a pawn to do it. A big ask. I don’t like it. But I’ve no choice. The syndicate is already on tenuous ground. Things have been shaky between our two factions lately. Suspicion is high. Tensions are higher. A seed of mistrust threatens to bloom into a noxious weed if we don’t get it under wraps now.

“Now that we understand each other,” Alexei says, “I’ll give him your word, yes?”

I don’t like it. But I reach out and shake his hand anyway.

“Ye have my word. I’ll sort her out.”

***

“Jaysus,” Rory whistles. “Did ye see the body on her though?”

“I saw,” I growl. “Now quit banging on about it.”

He raises a brow at me, and I tell him to piss off. I’m not in the mood for his shite. He carries on anyway.

“Seriously though. Those tits… and that ass… goddamn righteous I tell you. Can’t say I blame Donny for getting distracted the way he did.”

My grip tightens on the steering wheel. In spite of my foul mood, my cock’s formed its own opinion on the matter. I want Rory to stop talking about her. All of them need to stop running their gobs about her.

“There’s not a righteous thing about her,” I announce. “That bitch cost me five grand.”

Rory grins and glances back at Ronan who has chosen to remain carefully disinterested on the matter. Ronan takes that stance on most things. Only because I know him so well can I tell he doesn’t like the girl. I’ve got to say the feeling’s mutual. She came out of nowhere and destroyed one of my best fighters. It didn’t sit well with me either, and now I know why.

“Think she’ll be back next month?” Rory asks.

“Do you ever shut your cake hole?” I clip out.

“I’m just surprised ye didn’t get her number at least,” he says. “So I guess ye won’t mind if I do.”

“Nobody’ll be getting her bleeding number.”

This time Ronan’s disapproving gaze burns into the back of my head. I glare back at him in the mirror as I pull up to the curb. Rory gets out, and Ronan lingers behind when I leave the car idling.

“I’ve some business to do. Keep an eye on things for me?”

He nods, but gives me the stink eye. As far as loops go, Ronan’s in on just about all of them. This one’s a different story. A man has a right to keep a few things to himself now and then.

“An hour tops,” I tell him.

That’s my cue for him to get out. He’d never shut up if he knew what just went down with the Russians. Ronan can only handle this kind of information in small doses. He’ll need to warm up to the girl a bit before I clue him in.

He shuts the door, and I drive to the empty parking garage downtown where I meet my contact. Detective James is already waiting for me, his feet crossed as he leans back against his blue sedan with a newspaper and coffee in hand.

The garage is empty, but I don’t get out. He comes around to the passenger side and slides in beside me, wasting no time in handing off the file.

“The ballistics report. Your suspicions were confirmed.”

I already knew what I’d find in the file, but seeing it doesn’t make it easier. This confirms that the bullet inside of my grand-da didn’t belong to the Armenians. Niall will hand this off to Viktor as proof of their traitor though I’ve no doubt they’ll still argue the leak is on our side.

“Fecking Christ,” I mutter.

“I don’t envy you.” Detective James sips from his coffee. “Breaking news like that.”

I pull a fat stack of cash from my jacket and toss it into his lap. He moves to get out of the car when I stop him.

“There’s more where that came from.” I nod at the cash.

“What do you need?” he asks.

“Information.”

He takes out a notepad and pen from his pocket and stares at me. “On?”

My focus turns out the window and I tap my fingers against the steering wheel.

“Mackenzie Wilder.”

Chapter Five

Mackenzie

I spend every one of the next six days jotting down notes about Lachlan and his crew and practicing my dance moves. Between taking lessons and Scarlett teaching me, I’ve picked up a few good tricks that I know I can pull off well. It isn’t really the tricks I’m worried about. Scarlett used to dance in clubs like this one, albeit far less classy, and she filled me in on the dirty details.

I don’t know how things work at Slainte, but I know being an exotic dancer isn’t easy. It’s not all about grinding on a pole and shaking your ass. You have to hustle, and you need to have unflappable confidence. Some men are going to treat you like shit. They’re going to tell you to piss off because your tits are too small or your ass is too big and you’re not their type, or they might get all grabby and feel entitled to it. It can go either way really. Plus, add alcohol into the mix, and you just know there are going to be problems. Some places have rooms in the back where other stuff goes on if the client is willing to shell out. I’m hoping to hell that Slainte isn’t one of them. Regardless, I won’t be partaking in that.

From everything I’ve learned about the club, it seems a lot more upscale than most. But that doesn’t mean anything, really. It could just look nice and presentable on the outside. I won’t know until I’m in the midst of it what I’m getting myself into exactly. Still, I’m convinced I can pull this off even if I’ve never actually worked as an exotic dancer. I just need to be sexy and unique and give these guys a reason to let me stick around for a while.

Easier said than done, considering I’ve never really had a boyfriend. But what I do have is a body that I’ve worked my ass off for and my God-given looks. Men go ape shit over my blue eyes and black hair. Toss in some leather and lace and they think they’ve got a little hellcat on their hands.

If only they knew the real me.

I take a deep breath and give myself one last glance in the mirror. Everything is in place. It’s taken every last ounce of my patience to wait these six days before walking into the club. But I knew it was important. I don’t want to come off too strong, but I definitely need to up my game. I have no doubts my plan is going to work. It isn’t because of my unwavering confidence. It’s because it’s the only option I’ve got left.

The tight black leather jacket and spandex mini skirt can only help my cause. Beneath lies more leather in the form of a strappy black bra and thong. Fishnet thigh highs and a smoky eye complete the look. No question about it, I have no intention of fighting fair tonight.

Giving my hair one last smoothing over, I grab my keys and purse and head out to the curb. Ready or not boys, here I come.

***

By the time I make it to Slainte, it’s just after 1:30 am. Enough time for me to grab a drink and catch me an Irishman. Here’s how I think it’s going to go. One of the soldiers will recognize me from the fights. He’ll come over and offer to buy me a drink. He’ll mention said fight, and I’ll remark how hard up I am for cash and how I really need a job. And, oh, by the way I’m an exotic dancer.

The lightbulb will click, and the next thing you know, he’s telling me he can help me out. I’ll flirt and be eternally grateful, and boom… I’m in.

This plan has a lot of variables, I know. But it’s all I’ve got left since Lachlan’s rejection last week. Ultimately, I need his approval to get a job here. That’s the part I’m not too confident on.

The bouncer stops me at the door and gives me the customary once over before deeming me socially acceptable to grace their fine establishment. Once I’m in, I feel a weight off my chest. I’ve never been inside of Slainte, but it isn’t quite what I imagined.

The entire front bar is decked out in opulent oaks and mahoganies. The walls are a rich crimson red, and the floors polished hardwood. The scent of beer and liquor permeates the air, teasing the patrons with the promise of everything one could want during a cool Boston Autumn. It’s warm and homey, inviting even. But then again, I suspect that’s probably how Niall wants it to look. While there isn’t exactly a sign on the door broadcasting Niall’s affiliation with the place, it’s a well-known fact he owns the joint. Which means the people who frequent this establishment are either one of two things. Business associates, or those too naïve to know any better. A quick glance around confirms my suspicion that it’s mostly the latter in here tonight.

With a sigh, I walk straight to the bar and take a seat. It’s not like I expected the whole crew to be sitting up here in the open, just waiting for someone like me to come along and eavesdrop. It still would have been nice though. I flag down the bartender and order up a Patron on the rocks with salt and lime.

It goes down smoothly and warms my belly, steeling me with the courage I’ll need to see me through tonight. I swivel around in my seat and scan my surroundings. The front of the building houses a very cozy and inoffensive looking little pub. This is where the unwitting civilians imbibe and take part in the Irish hospitality. Downstairs and in the back, however, is another story.

From all outward appearances, this place is legit. And while I’m sure it does well enough on its own, I have to wonder exactly what other kind of criminal activity they’re fronting here. It’s a well-known fact that the Irish deal in guns and run some underground gambling establishments. But it’s their association with the Russians, or more specifically, Talia’s Russian, that I’m worried about. I need to know if they traffic in women. How many of these young college girls are at risk of disappearing after they visit this place?

There’s only one way to find out, and that involves getting into the back of the building. The one that’s closed off by dark walls and a pair of velvet curtains with a burly bouncer standing guard. That’s where the exotic dancing takes place, and unlike other clubs, it’s VIP and invitation only. That was where Talia worked, but she wasn’t a dancer. She swore up and down she was just a cocktail waitress, but I had a bad feeling about it all along. When I told her my concerns, she brushed them off and said the guys she worked for were great.

One thing is for certain, they’re great at hiding what goes on here. When I filed her missing person’s report, they didn’t even have Talia on file as an employee. Supposedly there isn’t any sort of a camera security system either, which I thought was shady as hell and made a point to say so. But everything else appeared on the up and up, and the police quickly washed their hands of it.

I don’t know if Talia is still alive. A very large part of me fears she isn’t. It’s been a year already. A year of exhausting every other option. I knew coming into this that it might be a one-way ticket to hell. But I can’t let it go. Talia doesn’t deserve to be treated like another statistic and I won’t stop until I find out what happened to her. If nothing else, I will give her the final resting place she deserves and make those responsible pay. These assholes think they can take vulnerable women and nobody will give a shit. But I’m here to show them just how wrong they are.

The bartender brings me another glass of Patron, and I open my wallet to pay when he shakes his head.

“On the house.”

Shit. I’ve been made already. Just as I’m about to glance around to see who it is, I feel his body heat behind me. I don’t even have to look to know it’s him. His scent hangs in the air between us. Cedarwood, sweet limes, and the leather from his jacket. The same scent that lingered in the warehouse between us last week.

“Butterfly.” His breath skates over my ear in a threatening whisper. “Fancy seeing you here. Stalking me, are ye?”

Pfft. Get a load of this guy. Stalking him? He frigging wishes. I turn around on my stool and come face to face with the devil himself. He’s a lot closer than I realized, and my leg brushes his when I come to a stop. He’s looking at me like he can’t believe it’s really me, sitting in his club. That’s a good thing, I hope.

“If I’m the butterfly,” I say sweetly. “What does that make you?”

“That depends.” He leans a little closer, inky darkness eclipsing the gray of his eyes. “What do you think I am?”

“How about we just call a spade a spade?” I flash him a smile. “Or in this case, a Crow a Crow.”

The threat in his gaze turns to something else entirely as he presses his hands against the bar and boxes me in with his arms. “How do ye know that name?”

“Oh, puh-lease. Everybody in Boston knows the notorious Crows. This little club you’re running is a hot bed of criminal activity. For the… what’s it called?” I tap my finger against my lips. “Oh yeah, that’s right… the MacKenna Syndicate.”

Before I can even really enjoy the effect my taunting has had on him, he’s grabbed me by the arm and yanked me off the stool. I’m dragged down a dark hallway and into an office before I’m roughly shoved against the wall.

Without pretense, he starts groping around my body for a wire. His hands aren’t at all gentle, and I flush unexpectedly when his palms move over my breasts. Scorching heat ripples along every inch of me he brazenly roams. I definitely don’t like it, but I’m responding nonetheless. Until he yanks up my skirt and kicks my legs apart, cupping me through my thong.

“Jesus,” I mutter. “You aren’t going to find one in there if that’s what you’re thinking.”

His attention dips to the pulse that’s now jumping in my throat and his jaw sets as his eyes flick to mine. He’s searching for something entirely different here, trying to pry my secrets out of me. My breaths are coming too quick, and he notices that too. He still hasn’t released me. His palm is between my legs, the heat beneath it only growing with every passing moment. The most vulnerable part of me that no man has ever touched, and yet he feels the right to. It isn’t sexual to him. His eyes are clouded with suspicion and anger and he’s waiting for me to tell him to stop. To get off of me. That’s what he wants, and I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Who the feck’re you?” he finally pulls away, and I take a deep breath. His accent definitely gets thicker when he’s pissy, and it makes me smile for some odd reason.

“You already know,” I drawl in a sugary voice. “Mack Wilder. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Crow. Officially.”

He takes a step back and eyes me off like he isn’t quite sure what to make of me. I’ve thrown him for a loop, and I like it. I use the opportunity to do the same. He’s looking sharp tonight in his black leather jacket and low-slung jeans. Everything about him is dark, powerful, mysterious. His aura exudes an armor that I doubt many can penetrate. It almost makes me feel strangely attracted to his dangerous persona. Almost.

I’m not completely insane.

“Ye’ve got exactly five seconds to tell me what the hell ye’re doing in my club,” he deadpans. “Before you’ll wish ye never set foot in here.”

Again, I smile at him. I have no doubt he’s packing heat and even less doubt he’d hesitate to ditch me in a dumpster somewhere. In fact, he’s looking at me right now like it’s exactly what he’s considering. But I have nothing to lose anymore, and I want to see how far I can push him. So what do I do?

I brazenly use four of those five seconds to take a seat in one of his nice leather chairs and cross my legs. My skirt hitches up my thigh, and his eyes don’t even move from mine.

Huh. Well that doesn’t inspire confidence. Still, I forge on anyway.

“I want a job,” I tell him. “I heard you had an opening for a dancer.”

What happens next shocks the hell out of me. He actually laughs. A real, full on, thunderous belly laugh. For a guy who wanted to kill me two seconds ago, he’s switching gears faster than I can keep up.

“Ah Jaysus, sweetheart…” His eyes are watering he’s laughing so hard now. “Ye’re kind of cute. Dead gorgeous in fact. But ye already know I’m not going to give you a job.”

I cross my arms and glare. “And why the hell not?”

“Ah, I don’t know.” The amusement drains from his face as he leans down and looks me dead in the eyes. “Maybe because I don’t fecking trust you.”

“And how much do you need to trust me to watch me shake my ass on stage every night?” I argue.

“A lot more than ye might expect.”

My eyes roam over his unrelenting expression, and a little piece of my hope shatters. Shit. He’s one hundred percent serious. This guy is a lot harder to crack than I anticipated. Why did it have to be him that saw me tonight? Why couldn’t it be one of the idiots that couldn’t stop staring at my tits last week?

“Just let me audition,” I press. “Then you can decide.”

I’m certain he’s going to shut it down right away, but then an oddly familiar tune blasts over the speakers, interrupting us. It’s incredibly loud in this part of the building, and incredibly Irish.

“What the hell is that?” I cover my ears.

“Watch your mouth,” he says. “That’s me national anthem. Means the bar is closing down.”

“Hey, I’m Irish too,” I protest.

He cocks his head to the side and dismisses it entirely. “Ye’re about as Irish as a plastic paddy.”

That sets off the hot head in me, and I stand up and poke a finger into his chest. “Hey buddy, you watch your fuckin’ mouth. My dad was Jack Wilder, the son of Joseph Wilder. Two of the greatest boxing legends in their time. It doesn’t get any more friggin’ Irish than that.”

“Ye’re kind of a feisty wee thing.” He grabs my arms and pins me in place. “Aren’t ya?”

For the briefest of seconds, something odd flashes in his eyes. Something that looks like hunger, but whatever it is, it’s fleeting. The shutters come back down and his eyes go dim. His palm slides down around my wrist and engulfs me as if to demonstrate how easily he could break me. But instead, his thumb skates over my pulse. I blink up at him when I realize he’s either giving me a human lie detector test, or trying to see if I’m affected by him.

Of course, this only makes my heart beat faster. His eyes spark when I lick my suddenly very dry lips. I try to snatch my hand back, but he doesn’t let me. His skin feels so hot against mine, and I’m not sure why. This is that intimacy thing I don’t like. Being close to someone, in their space. Breathing the same air and smelling their scent. It freaks me out. By now he knows I’m going to need a defibrillator at any moment, and there’s nothing I can do to hide it.

He’s looking at me like he hates me. Like he doesn’t know why he’s still standing here dealing with me at all. But at the same time, the corners of his mouth tip up into the smallest hint of boyish smile that he can’t seem to help.

Game face, Mack. Get your fricken game face on. This man is a killer remember? A low life scabby criminal. And I am not that girl. Never have been. So what the hell is going on?

He watches me stew silently in his grasp, knowing I could easily pull away from him, but also that I won’t. I realize now that this outfit is a lot harder to crack than I’d hoped. Lachlan in particular is suspicious and decisive in his every thought and action, and a whole lot more complex than I gave him credit for.

“So,” I huff like I’ve got better things to do. “Are you gonna’ let me dance for you, or what?”

He reaches down and tips my chin up so I have to meet his gaze. Now his mouth is just inches from mine, so close his breath is mingling with mine. “Let’s just review, sweetheart,” he says. “Ye come into my club, dressed like that…” His eyes wander over me again as if to make his point. “Ye seem to know me by name, and yet I don’t know you. And ye just expect me to believe a pretty little ride like you can’t make her way in this city without dancing? I may be stating the bleeding obvious here, but ye’re full’a shite, Mack.”

It takes me a minute to rebuff his accusation because I’m staring at his lips and trying to work out what he said. Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me? I pull back and regain my space. And then I hold up my fingers and start listing off the reasons why he should give me this job.

“I’m good at dancing,” I tell him. “And I need the money. I’ve got a crazy ex-boyfriend after me, so I figure what better place to hide out than inside the hive of the Irish mafia?”

That last part is complete bullshit, and it makes him scowl, but I’m grasping at straws now.

“Have ye got any idea who ye’re talking to, sweetheart?” he stalks towards me and takes back the distance between us. “Ye’re liable to get yourself some new cement shoes if you keep running your mouth like that around here.”

“Fuck you buddy.” I cross my arms and glare. “I already told you I know who you are. What more do you want? Should I be quaking in my boots because the mighty Lachlan Crow…”

I don’t get to finish because he grabs a fistful of my hair as he jerks me forward and slams me up against the wall. His body presses up against me from behind, his arousal digging into my ass as his lips hover near my ear.

“Not surprised ye’ve got a crazy ex after you,” he says. “If ye’re always giving this much cheek.”

“Can’t help it,” I smirk against the wall. “I’m from Southie.”

“Ye’ll help it when ye’re around me,” he says.

I don’t reply, and he grips my hair and forces me to look at him. There’s no doubting the authority in his tone, he ain’t fucking around. But there’s also no doubting the unmistakable heat pressed against my ass.

“I run this club.” He squeezes my face in his fingers before moving them down over the delicate skin of my throat. “And everyone in it. If ye take issue with that, I’ll gladly show you to the door.”

Shit.

“No issue,” I tell him as his grip tightens in warning. “Whatever you say goes. I get it.”

I didn’t think it possible, but he presses even closer. So close I can feel his body heat burning into my back. He’s got me pinned and I’m shocked that I’ve managed not to have a freaking meltdown yet.

“I’ll turn your life inside out.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“This isn’t the kind of place ye can walk away from. Ye’re done when I say ye’re done, and only then.”

“Understood.”

“One dance, butterfly. That’s all ye’ll get to impress me. The odds are already stacked against ye.”

Again, he’s manhandling me out the door and dragging me down the hall. Exactly to where I want to be. The bouncer opens the door for us and I get a glimpse of the VIP area. It’s an intimate setting, dark with nice leather seats around the stage. It’s nothing like the strip clubs I visited with Scarlett when I was doing my research, but then again, it’s not intended to be. This private show is a place for the men of the MacKenna syndicate to come and unwind. Apart from them, the only other invitees are their business associates. AKA the Russians. Also, the occasional politician, lawyer, or other prominent figures they’re greasing the palms of. This is exactly where I need to be to find my guy.

None of them are around right now since the place is closed down. The only person left is the emcee who’s shutting down the lights and overhead speakers.

“Hold off,” Lachlan tells him. “I’ve got an audition.”

The man behind the podium eyes me off with curiosity and obvious interest. “You want me to stick around?”

“No,” Lachlan replies in a clipped tone.

The other guy is crestfallen as he walks towards the back without a word. I smirk and pull out my iPod. “I’ve got my own music anyway.”

“Carry on then.” Lachlan takes a seat in front of the stage and stretches out his legs while he waits.

He doesn’t look like he’s going to be easily swayed, so I know I’m going to have to pull out all the stops. I decide to forgo the routine I had planned and freestyle it instead. I think organic movement will look sexier than if I’m too much in my head. While I’m confident in my fighting skills, this stuff is a completely different ballgame. This stuff means I’m banking on someone to like me. To want me.

Those are things I never had time to want. When every day was a game of survival, I didn’t want anyone else to care. Because if they cared that meant I could lose them too. I’m not good at this stuff. I don’t know how to be sweet or seductive. But I know what I want, and I’m determined. I hope that will carry me through.

I plug in my iPod and cue up the song I’ve chosen. Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie. I want to keep him guessing. I need to be an enigma. A confusing dichotomy of shy and sweet and hard and tough. Lachlan lives in a dark world. He doesn’t want a pop princess up on stage. None of them do.

I shimmy out of my skirt and leather jacket, leaving only the strappy leather ensemble covering my body while he watches. When I steal a glance at him, I can’t tell what the hell he’s thinking. His face is a steel mask of indifference, and it’s too dark to see if he’s still sporting a hard on. I temper my nerves and close my eyes as I start to move.

I’m just going to pretend he isn’t there. Seems the best way to do it. I do some of the customary stage crawling and a lot of hip gyrating, walking around the pole very slowly and a few little leg tricks before I move onto the bigger stuff. I’m confident that as long as I own what I’m doing and believe in it, it will shine through. I have the strength and coordination to pull out a couple of the big guns. I do some aerial inverts, a Chinese flagpole, and a boomerang. And when I’m done, I finish it all off with a butterfly for my own amusement before melting back to the floor and dismounting.

When the song finishes and I open my eyes, Lachlan is still there, but this time he can’t hide the heat in his eyes. He’s burning a path over my every curve and valley, feasting on me like he’s seriously considering fucking me right here.

“So what do you think?” I ask shyly.

“I think ye’re doing a bang up job,” he admits reluctantly. “Carry on.”

I smile and get down on my hands and knees, crawling across the stage. The next song on my iPod is Sweet Dreams by Marilyn Manson. I flip my hair around and do a few floor tricks up close and personal to give him a nice little show from his vantage point down below. Lots of back arches and hip gyrating. The stuff that men just can’t look away from.

Something else Scarlett taught me comes to mind. Men love an ego boost.

“I like the jeans.” I crawl closer to the edge and let my eyes drop. “They look good on you.”

He laughs again, but it’s not in amusement.

“Oh, ye flatter me sweetheart. Fancy them, do you? Would ye like me to bend you over and show ye what’s inside?”

“Tempting.” I flop onto my stomach and move into a shoulder stand before melting into a backbend. “So very tempting Mr. Crow. But the thing about butterflies is they need to be admired from afar. If you touch them, they could die.”

My words cause the darkness to return to his face. I thought we were playing a game- that it was nothing but banter- but then I glimpse something else beneath. Something I wasn’t expecting. Grief so raw and real, it feels like I’m looking in a mirror.

For a strange moment, I feel connected to him. His pain draws mine out like a magnet, and our eyes lock onto each other, linking us together in an unexpected way. This time, it’s me who breaks the trance, quashing down whatever this strange energy is and locking it up tight.

The song comes to an end, but I don’t stop moving. I still haven’t shown Lachlan the goods, and a part of me is wondering if he’ll ever ask. He doesn’t.

“That’s enough,” he says finally.

I stop and swing my legs over the side of the stage to dangle as I wait for the verdict.

“I don’t want ye in my club,” he says.

My stomach rolls with nerves and a sense of impending doom. His suspicion of me is too strong, and even his reluctant attraction to me won’t get in the way of that. Right now, I have no doubt he’s being real with me. He doesn’t want me here. At all.

I’m trying to conjure up the words to argue with him. To plead my case. But they aren’t coming. Defeat is weighing heavy on my shoulders, and all I can think of is that I’ve failed Talia. How the hell did she ever get a job here? Another mystery to figure out.

I rise on shaky legs and do the only thing I can at this point. I call his bluff.

Stalking back across the stage, I pick up my clothes as though I’m about to storm out. “Look, just forget it. You saw what I can do, but if you don’t like it, I’ll take my act somewhere else. There are plenty of clubs in town…”

“Mackenzie.”

My name comes out of his mouth like a whip, and it commands my attention right away. He hasn’t moved an inch, but he doesn’t need to. This is the Lachlan Crow I hear about on the streets. The man that nobody fucks with. He’s scowling at me, and the threat is clear. And yet, I’m smiling inside. Because I’ve got him right where I want him.

I think.

“Fuck me, ye’re a stubborn wee thing.”

I shrug.

“How much money do ye need?” he asks.

“However much I get dancing every night at your club.” I need to stand firm on this. This is where the action is, and I can’t be anywhere else.

“Ye can help behind the bar,” he suggests.

“I’ll never make as much money up there as I will dancing, and you can’t tell me otherwise.”

His eyes are ice cold and brutally devoid of any sympathy towards my plight. If I thought he had heartstrings to pull, I was dead wrong. But something is still keeping him from letting me go. I don’t know what it is, and it doesn’t matter. I’m going to grab onto it with both hands and pull at the thread for all I’m worth.

I flip my hair over my shoulders and reach for my things. He needs to believe I’ll walk out that door and go somewhere else.

“I still don’t trust ye,” he says.

I glance at him over my shoulder and catch him checking out my ass. I smile, and he jerks his attention back to my face.

“I know.”

“Ye don’t want to cross me,” he adds.

“I know that too.”

He leans back and stretches his arms behind his head while he considers me for a moment.

“Come here to me.”

His voice, not his words, draws me closer. He’s been blunt and indifferent to me from the moment we met, but right now he’s decidedly calm. I doubt there are many women who could refuse an order as far as Lachlan Crow is concerned in either case. I toss my stuff back onto the podium and walk down the stairs. Standing directly in front of him, I meet his gaze with a hint of challenge. His eyes narrow, and he points at the space between his legs.

“Closer.”

I take three small steps until I’m standing so close I can feel his body heat branding my barely covered flesh. He reaches up and grips me around the waist and tugs me into his lap like a frigging ragdoll. My annoyance is quickly snuffed out by the fact I can feel him throbbing for me beneath my ass. It stirs something within me. Something unfamiliar.

“I don’t want you up on that stage.” He brushes my hair back over my shoulders and gathers it in his fist. “I don’t fucking want ye here at all.”

My heartrate jacks at his words. Everything about this man scares me, even though I haven’t let onto it. I know this is how it works. The threats to keep me and the other girls in line. But it doesn’t just sound like an empty threat. Where a moment ago I thought I had him, now his hatred almost sounds real. Personal, even. When I speak, my voice is missing the usual snap to it.

“Why am I in your lap then?”

He draws my gaze to his with his fingers, and for a moment, neither one of us says a thing. Our eyes are locked, our breath stilted, and even I can feel Lachlan’s heart hammering against my back. He wants this. Badly. Even if he can’t admit it to himself.

I try to stand up, but he anchors me in place with hard fingers. If it were anybody else, he’d have an elbow to the face by now. But I need to keep my cool. Remain unaffected.

“I came here for a job,” I protest. “Not to be manhandled.”

He jerks my head to the side and his fingers drift to my throat again. “Are ye working with the cops?”

My face blanches at his accusation. “No.”

“So prove it,” he challenges.

I sigh. This is a test, of course. He wants to make me uncomfortable to see how I react.

“I’m not going to blow you just to get a job. I’m not that desperate.”

He arches a brow at me, all the while his fingers are burning into my skin. How can one man have so much heat radiating off him?

“Never said you were,” he replies.

“So then what do you want?” I demand.

“One kiss.”

A kiss? That one came out of left field.

“And that’s going to prove I’m not a cop… how exactly?”

“I have my methods.”

I can handle a kiss if that’s what it’s going to take. One kiss. It’s a slippery slope, I know, but I need this job. And there’s something about the curious look on his face that gives me a small thrill. He wants to see if I’ll go through with it. Like maybe he’s questioning something else about this weird chemistry between us.

“Okay,” I agree. “Whatever. One kiss. Have at it.”

His eyes darken as he leans into my space, but he doesn’t just go in for the kill. He takes his time, dragging it out. His lips brush over mine and then he captures my bottom lip between his teeth. A tug, and a slight bite of pain. I hiss and dig my fingers into his shoulders when I taste copper. He groans and licks it.

The sound of his pleasure and depravity jump starts my heart and explodes into my bloodstream. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Whatever it is, it’s ricocheting through my body, possessing me like a demon. My hands draw him closer, and the next thing I know, I’m kissing him back. Hard. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I don’t need to. My body knows what it craves.

My hands are in his hair, tugging, while his tongue forces its way into my mouth. I feel drunk, and it has nothing to do with the tequila. He’s just woken something that lived inside of me. Something I never knew existed. His hands are on me, tainting places that have never been touched before. Groping my tits, my waist, cupping my ass and grinding me down onto his erection. Oh God that feels good. Why does that feel so good? I completely underestimated the power of a chemical reaction. I can’t think straight anymore, and God help me, I actually want him right now.

What’s he doing to me?

He slaps the inside of my thigh, and I spread my legs wider for him, just like that. His large palm cups me through the thin material of my thong and rubs, creating a friction that I’m certain is going to set me on fire. Maddening need coils deep inside of me and bleeds up through my throat in the form of a low moan. It scares the hell out of me.

Jesus, what the fuck am I doing?

Is this all he has to do to sway my opinion of him? Touch me like this? I’m out of control. I don’t recognize these desires coursing through my body. The need to be wanted. To be needed. To allow myself to be vulnerable to another. That scares me worse than knowing who this man is or what he does. I want… God, I don’t know what I want.

Instinctively, I bring my hand to his arm and do something I never, ever do.

I tap out.

Recognizing the gesture, he rears back with a wild look in his eyes as he stares at me in confusion. Confusion because he clearly doesn’t understand what was happening between us either. He releases me and goes rigid as I stumble backwards drunkenly and try to adjust what little clothing I have on.

“So?” I squeak. “Have I proven myself yet?”

He jerks his eyes away and stands up, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. His voice is rough and husky when he speaks, and I have a hard time focusing on the actual words.

“An appetizer.”

“Huh?”

“You can be an appetizer,” he repeats. “Start the show. Two song sets, no nudity.”

I don’t know what to make of his odd conditions, but it’s actually better than anything I could have asked for. Still, I need to keep up the pretense that I’m in this for the money. So I cross my arms and give him a frustrated look.

“How am I supposed to survive off two songs a night?”

“The lads here tip well, Mack. This is not your run of the mill strip club, in case ye haven’t noticed.”

I run my fingers over my lips, drawing his attention back to them while I pretend to debate.

“What about the house fees? Will they be cut too since I’m only doing two songs a night?”

He nods. “No house fees. No lap dances. These are my conditions, take it or leave it.”

“I thought I told you I don’t play by the rules,” I argue.

“Ye’re mistaken,” he says. “Ye just walked into my world unbidden. So you will play by the rules, butterfly. You’ll be playing by all my rules.”

The small amount of self-control he lost only moments ago has returned full force.

“Whatever you say, Lach.”

He raises a brow and his lip twitches.

“I think you and I are going to get along just fine, sweetheart.”

Chapter Six

Lachlan

“Quit being a fucking pussy and hit me.”

Ronan turns his focus on me and rolls his shoulders. He looks like he’s going to some sort of business meeting with his crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves like that. And those glasses. It’s not that he doesn’t understand you don’t wear these type of things to the gym. It’s just what he’s comfortable in. Been that way since we were young lads and he came to live with me. My mammy handed him a pair of jeans and a shirt and he just stared at them all day, like. Then he went on to announce he didn’t want to dress that way no more.

So what did my mammy do? She sewed him a suit if you can believe it. At thirteen years old he was strutting around the neighborhood in that thing. He was already deadly, but the kids didn’t know that. They were always giving him shite because he was such a scrawny little fella back then. I guess the suit made him feel good about himself, so I never said anything to him about it. Next thing ye know, he started boxing with me. He filled out, bulked up, and nobody ever fucked with him again. Even so, he still wears the goddamn suits.

Now here we are, all these years later, and he hesitates to punch me in the face. My best mate can off a man six different ways with his bare hands, so long as it isn’t me. His loyalty always gets in the way, but he’ll do it. It’s an order, and when I give an order, Ronan follows through. He’s good at that. Doesn’t want much of anything else. Just to be left alone and follow the orders that come down the pipe.

“Are ye afraid to fight the mighty Lachlan Crow?” Sean mimics our accents like the tosser he is. He was born and reared here, and it’s just another thing that sets him apart from the rest of us.

“Let me have a go. More than happy to oblige in fact.”

“Not going to fight ye, Sean,” I tell him.

“Why not? Thought you were the best. That’s what they say.”

Pushing Ronan isn’t something I’m fond of. He comes to terms with things on his own time, for reasons only I’m clued in on. But in this case, I’ll be glad to make an exception if he doesn’t get his shite together. Sean is always bleeding on with this bollocks. It isn’t enough he bedded two of my women behind my back. Now he wants to have a go at my face as well.

“The boys are always going on about it,” says Sean. “And yet you won’t fight in the underground. Why is that, Lachlan? You think you’re too good?”

“Fack off, Sean,” Ronan grunts.

“Well, you won’t spar with him, so let me. We’re an equal match. In fact, I’d say Lachlan probably has about fifteen pounds on me. So he has the advantage already.”

It’s no little feat not to tell this prick to shut his gob. He’s got it in his head that he wants to fight me, but I’d destroy him. Niall wouldn’t have that. He expects better of me. So this muppet can spin this drivel all day long, it’s still not going to happen.

Ronan finally takes it upon himself to step up to the plate. He moves into my space and I keep my guard up. His eyes flick between mine, looking for weaknesses and trying to guess my next move. A very obvious and tightly controlled right hook comes straight at me. I don’t bother trying to deflect. It hits me in the jaw with a satisfactory crack and sends my head jerking to the left.

“Ye’re off your goddamn head, Crow.” Ronan tears off his gloves and tosses them to the floor like a child. “We’re done here.”

With a shrug, I take to the bag instead. The repetition of the punches keeps me grounded. I’m piss drunk and right now the pain feels good. My grand-da always said there’s nothing like a good solid punch to the head to clear your mind.

Ronan grunts, and I glance over to see what his problem is now. The man is so fucking contrary you’d think he was a goddamn woman sometimes. Donny walks in and I make the same low grunt in my own throat. It’s a reflex. I’ve no love for this wanker either. He never shuts his gob, and he’s grinning like a lunatic half the time. The lad smiles too much if you ask me. One of those slimy smiles that tells me he’s up to no good. I don’t trust him, but I keep it to myself. Until he crosses Niall, he’s just an annoyance I have to contend with from time to time.

“Michael just called,” he announces. “The Russkies are at the club with at least fifteen little birdies in tow. A celebration of our most recent acquisition.”

Ronan’s eyes flash towards mine as I smash my fist into the bag so hard I’m almost certain I’ve cracked some bones. That most recent acquisition he’s gloating about is the one that got my grand-da done. If he wasn’t such a dumb fuck, and I hadn’t come to expect this carry on from him already, I’d use his face instead of the bag.

But Donovan is a dumb fuck and everyone knows it. Too dumb to remember we lost one of our own that night. That’s where his loyalties lie. He’s a man who thinks with his prick and counts his victories in whores and cocaine. As a whole, our outfit doesn’t deal in drugs and we’re not supposed to dabble in them either. Something else Niall’s been letting slide where Donovan is concerned. He’s a hot head who’s always toeing the line. No doubt he’s one coked out high away from killing one of those whores.

For the time being I’ll keep a close eye on him, but with the outfit on such unstable ground as it is, it pains me to admit we need this tool.

“So what do you say boys?” he raises a couple of ginger brows at us. His pupils are as big as quarters, and I’m too wrecked in the head to care right now.

“I can’t be arsed.” I nod towards Ronan. “You go on with the lads. I’ll catch up after a bit.”

Ronan replaces his suit jacket and smooths it out. He has as much fun at these parties as I’d have at a high tea, but there’s something else that draws him back to the club.

They disappear down the hallway and I wipe the sweat from my brow. My knuckles are bloody when I unwrap them, so I retrieve the flask from my bag. I splosh some of the amber liquid onto the fresh cuts and a river of crimson washes down my wrist. The flask finds my lips. It’s empty far too soon, and I’m left to the quiet solitude of the gym.

Restless and too high strung to go home, I yearn for something else. I could do with the softness of a woman right now. The problem is finding one who isn’t a conniving bitch.

My thoughts drift to Mackenzie. There’s not an ounce of trust in that one. I don’t want her anywhere near the lads. Also, I wish I’d never laid eyes on her. Or hands for that matter. Don’t know what the bleeding hell I was thinking carrying on like that. It hasn’t left my head, the way she felt. It’s only going to bring about trouble. If I’m to seal the alliance with the Russians, then I need to be prepared to marry one of them and send Mack on her way. I doubt they’d fancy my leftovers after I’d had a go at her.

The flask moves to my lips and I toss it when I remember it’s empty. Christ. I don’t have the energy to seek out a woman tonight. My cock hasn’t had the energy in weeks. Ah shite, even that’s a lie. It’s been months. Mandy was my last. Until I caught her and Sean together, in my fecking office no less. One of the most important rules of the syndicate is one he fancies breaking often. Had she been my wife, he’d have been dead for such an act. As it was, I had every right to leave some permanent marks on him as a reminder of what happens when you touch another lad’s woman.

If he weren’t Niall’s son, I might have. But Mandy wasn’t worth losing sleep over. Or focus for that matter. I’ve not met a woman worth any of that headache as of yet, and I’ve no plans to either.

Think I’m officially ballsed.

I splash some water on my face and pull my tee shirt over my sweat slicked body. Shoes on, jacket, Glock. Every day the same routine. This is the life I want, so I haven’t a clue why it feels so empty at times.

Hitting the lights, I lock up and step out into the cool Boston air. Instead of going left, back to the car that’ll take me to Slainte, I turn right. These streets are familiar now. They feel like home. And even though the weather is cooling as Autumn takes hold of the city, I don’t mind the walk. The fresh air is the only thing that can breathe life into the stagnant energy inside of me.

***

The spent casing rolls against the marred wood of my old desk, twisting this way and that. No matter how much I stare at it, I can’t wrap my head around it. It needs to be brought to Niall’s attention when I meet him next.

He’s not going to like it. With everything else going on right now, this is the last thing he’ll want to contend with. With the territories as unstable as they are, this alliance with the Russians means everything. There is power in numbers if only for show. The problem with numbers though, is always questioning loyalties. We don’t have the same business practices. But evolving to the times means overlooking such things. They have the Ghost, and we need him, bastard that he is.

These are all things I’m well aware of. I won’t stand to let my grand-da’s death go unpunished. But going to war right now isn’t an option. With the Armenians flocking to the East to get themselves a piece of the pie, all of the factions are up in arms.

The door to my office swings open and Ronan stalks inside. He arches a brow when he spots the bullet on my desk, and I snatch it up and place it in my pocket.

“Right, lad?” I ask.

He tosses a file onto my desk with a scowl.

“Detective James sends his regards.”

The urge to open the file straight away is strong. I smother it down. Ronan’s hovering over me like a bloody prison guard and I could do with a bit of privacy for this.

“What the feck’re ye doing, Crow?”

I reach for my glass of Jameson and take a drink, eyeing him over the rim. His intentions are good. They always are. If there’s a lad I trust in this world without a scrap of doubt, it’s Ronan Fitzpatrick. He followed me here at sixteen, earning his way into the syndicate on his own accord. He’s fought and killed and done anything I’ve ever asked of him. We’re as close to brothers as two men can be.

For this reason alone, I answer his question.

“I’m giving her a job.”

“I don’t trust her,” Ronan says.

“You don’t have to.”

He grunts his disapproval at the same time another knock sounds on the door. This office may as well be a bleeding department store.

“Come in,” I call out.

Mandy pokes her head in and smiles.

“Am I interrupting?”

“Aye, ye are.” Ronan can barely contain his distaste for this woman.

“Nah.” I grin back at him. “What do ye need Mandy?”

Ronan stalks out of the room, and the guilt ebbs away as he leaves. I don’t like keeping things from him, but it’s for his own protection. The less he knows about this, the better. When I turn my attention back to Mandy, the relief is short lived.

“So, what is the calamity this time?” I clip out.

She flinches from the coldness of my voice and then pouts her lips.

“Why does Sasha get more sets than I do? She’s on the schedule…”

“Ye know better than to come to me with this shite,” I cut her off.

Undeterred, she walks around my desk and sits on it, arching her back in an effort to draw my attention to her tits. It might have worked on me before, but I’ll never touch her again.

“You look tense.” Her voice is soft in a way I’m sure she means to be seductive. “I can fix that, Lachlan.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I remark. “Besides, aren’t there any willing pricks out there for you to have a go with tonight?”

She flips her hair over her shoulder and flattens her lips.

“They can’t do it like you can.”

“Yeah?” I grin up at her, playing the game she wants.

She nods and flashes a shy smile. I thought those were real once too.

“Yeah, Lachlan. You know it’s true.”

“Well you would know.” I finish off my whiskey and spin the glass around my finger. “Ye’ve had a ride with the whole lot of them.”

Her brown eyes harden and I look away. Should’ve sacked her a long time ago. But since Sean is so fond of her, I keep her around. A bitter reminder of what happens when you trust a female. If I were to send her packing now, it would only open him up to other distractions. Distractions like Mackenzie. The glass in my fist starts to splinter when I realize I’m crushing it in my grip.

“You act like you can’t even stand to look at me,” Mandy says.

There are tears in her eyes now as false as everything else about her. Loyalty is the only thing that’s true in this life, and if your woman isn’t loyal, there’s no place for her in your bed.

“Have ye only just figured this out?” I ask her flatly.

She reaches out to touch my face and I shove her hand away. “Fuck on out of my office and go to work.”

She snarls under her breath but does as I ask. When the door closes behind her, I pour another round of whiskey.

Fuck her.

Fuck all women, really. Can’t trust them, or anyone for that matter it seems. Even our own goddamn alliance. The thought of marrying a girl I don’t know does my head in. I don’t fancy the idea at all. I’ve seen Viktor’s daughters a time or two, maybe. But I can’t recall them for shite. And no matter which one I choose, she’ll be guaranteed to hate me.

I scrub my hands over my face and my eyes move back to the file in front of me. An unfamiliar twinge springs up in my chest thinking about what’s inside. It could be anxiety, paranoia, suspicion… any number of those things. But it doesn’t feel like it.

With a quick flip, I’m staring at a photo of the blue-eyed girl that’s currently doing my head in. Black hair, pale skin… the song that comes to mind was written just for her. She really is fucking righteous. Just like Rory said. I don’t want him talking about her like that.

She feels like she’s mine already, and I can’t have that. I want her gone. Need her gone. Out of my life and my mind. She’s a distraction I don’t need right now. A wildcard. Also, she’s too young for me anyway. Twenty-two years old. A seven-year difference, but in my world, it may as well be three decades.

My thumb traces over the photo before I push it aside. What I really need to see lays within the guts of the file. My eyes scan over the documents, strangely riveted by what I find.

The girl is tough, I’ll give her that much. Turns out she had a reason to be. A ward of the state at thirteen, followed by a slew of foster parents before she ran away. What the hell does a thirteen-year-old girl have to do to survive on her own? I’ve no doubt I wouldn’t like to know.

Her father was an underground boxer. Done in a back alley and left with the mark of the Russians. That’s what the file says, but I know the Russians very well. The sign carved into Jack Wilder’s forehead was the brand of only one man. Ivan Malikoff.

Fecking prick.

This is why he wants her dead. The Russians don’t have quite as many standards as our outfit. Some of the smaller factions do, but the whole umbrella encompasses more members than most countries have armies. It’s more of an anything goes sort of unit, depending on who’s playing the role of governor.

But it sets me to wondering. Is this why the girl is trying to get a job here? It literally felt like someone was playing a goddamn joke on me when Ronan told me she was sitting out in my club. Since my meeting with Detective James I’ve had eyes on her. So for her to walk right into Slainte and demand a job… it was the last thing I ever saw coming. Everyone knows the Russians visit here often. It’s common knowledge. Is she trying to avenge her father’s death? Or would she even have a clue that Ivan was the one who did him in?

These are questions I’d like the answers to. When I pick up her photo and stare at it one last time, I tell myself that’s why I’m letting her into our world. I don’t trust her, there’s no bones about that. I’ll need to keep a tight leash on her.

I text Ronan to come to my office. Efficient as always, he appears two minutes later.

“Aye?”

He stands in the doorway, looking at me like I’ve gone a bit mad. I suppose I have.

“The girl,” I tell him. “Put the word out over the city. Mackenzie Wilder is under the protection of the MacKenna Syndicate.”

Ronan’s eyes flash, but wisely he chooses not to argue. The man rarely does. He’d rather pout about it for days instead.

“Anything else?”

I sit back and drum my fingers over my desk. “Also, tell the lads that nobody is to touch or talk to her.”

Chapter Seven

Mackenzie

The room I’m staying at in Roxbury is one of those crappy pay by month sort of joints. It’s got an entire smorgasbord of seedy characters hanging around, and the accompanying strange noises throughout the night. In fact, I’m pretty sure the room next door to mine is where all the johns in the city are coming to get their rocks off. But it’s cheap and rat infested and, well, I’ve slept in a lot worse places. Nobody knows I’m here, not even Scarlett.

And yet when there’s a knock on my door at six o’ clock sharp, I’m not in the least surprised. When I squint through the peephole, Lachlan and one of his men are loitering on the other side. I had no doubts he’d be checking out my digs, but I didn’t expect him to come straight to the door.

I open it with a smile and lean against the doorjamb. “Well would you look at that?” I muse. “Fancy seeing you here, Crow. Stalking me?”

He pushes right past me, doing a quick once over of my room. “That mouth is going to get you in trouble.”

“I’ve got no doubt about that,” I agree.

He gestures to his man, who promptly goes about the business of checking my room for bugs. I watch without protest as he waves the device over every crevice he can think of. This is part of Lachlan’s tough guy front, letting me know there are no boundaries in his world. If he wants to walk into my room and have his lackeys go through my shit, he will. My notes are hidden in the bottom of a box of tampons. The chances of them actually looking through this is nil. Men are pretty predictable in that aspect.

I feign disinterest while I take a seat and let my eyes roam over Lachlan. He’s wearing low-slung jeans, a black button up and a leather jacket again. Complete with scuffed leather boots and a chain that hangs from his hip to his pocket. He definitely has that whole dark lord of the underworld look going for him. His body is muscular without being too bulky and when he moves, his shirt clings to his abs, stretching the material. That’s something I’ve always enjoyed looking at on a man. The squareness of their hips. Makes me wonder what he’d look like out of the clothes.

A thought I shake off rather quickly.

When I look up, Lachlan’s eyes flash. He’s caught me staring, and he knows it too. I shift in my chair and turn my attention towards the still open door of the motel room.

“It’s clean,” his guy declares.

Lachlan makes another gesture, and the guy disappears out the door, leaving just the two of us in the stifling room.

“Are you done yet?” I ask.

“Not nearly.” He stalks over and leans down into my space, tilting my face back to him.

Shit. He’s so close my heart is beating crazy fast. He really doesn’t have any sense of boundaries at all. And this kind of closeness… it freaks me out. But when I look into his eyes, I seem to forget all about that. Today they are the color of seafoam. Soft and alluring as he tries to pry out my deepest secrets.

Desperate for somewhere else to look, my eyes dart to his lips. It’s the wrong choice. I still remember what they felt like on mine. Soft and slightly askew, I decide that’s what gives him a boyish sort of quality. That crookedness and slight imperfection of his smile. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget. As if he can sense my thoughts, Lachlan’s nostrils flare and his eyes swirl with a dangerous prism of colors. It’s like a jackhammer to my protective shield.

My brain is on the fritz. I know this man staring down at me is bad. So very bad. I know it’s possible he could have done this very same thing with Talia. He could have lured her in and then made her disappear when she didn’t play by his rules. Even if he didn’t, it’s likely that he knows the man who did. This mysterious Russian. They are probably friends, no doubt.

So why am I responding this way to him?

“Tell me why ye’re living here,” he says.

I pull away and attempt to regain my composure. “Okay, but stop touching me.”

“Ye don’t like it?” he asks.

It seems like a genuine question, which only confuses me more. Since when do guys like him care whether a woman likes it or not? I roll my eyes as he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, waiting for my reply.

“I’m just here temporarily,” I say. “Don’t want my ex to find me.”

“Roxbury isn’t exactly a long way from Southie,” Lachlan notes. “I’ve seen you fight. Ye don’t seem the type to run scared.”

Shit, he has me there.

“Well…” I hedge. “I might be from Southie, but he’s not. And he’s completely off the rails. There’s only so many times you can try to make a guy like that see reason.”

“Hmm…” He rubs his fingers over his lips. To him, this whole thing is probably quite ironic. Out of the frying pan and into the fire as they say.

“Ye won’t have to worry about him anymore, Mack.” His tone becomes serious. “Ye’re under my protection now.”

Hm, imagine that? He does have heartstrings to pull after all.

“Thanks,” I tell him. “But I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself.”

“Remember what I told you about playing by my rules?” he asks.

I bite my lip to stifle my bratty smile. “Of course. Whatever you say, Lachlan.”

“Good girl,” he says. “Now get your ass in the car. I’m taking you to supper.”

***

After hustling my ass off to finish getting ready, I walk outside to find the last thing I ever expected in the run down parking lot. A freaking Maserati.

A blue GranTurismo Sport, to be precise. I’m practically salivating at the mouth as I walk towards it with fingers poised to touch. At the last second, I snatch my hand back and I think I hear Lachlan laugh.

“Fancy that, do ye?”

“Va va voom,” I say in answer. “Any chance you’ll let me drive?”

He spins the keys around his fingers. “Not even if I was dying.”

Pfft.

He opens my door and I slide into the seat like butter. Mmm… it still has that new car smell, along with a hint of cedarwood and limes.

Lachlan gets in beside me and glances my way as he fires up the beast. I swear I almost have an orgasm just from the vibration and sounds alone. Jesus, this has definitely upped his game.

“Why don’t we skip dinner and you can just drive me around in this for the next couple of hours,” I suggest.

He whips out of the parking space and onto the street. “I have to say Mack, ye really know how to have the craic, don’t you?”

“Say what now?”

“You like the fun stuff,” he clarifies. “Fast cars and fighting…”

His words drift off abruptly, but it isn’t too hard to guess what he’s thinking about.

For a minute, as I watch him navigate the streets of Boston with smooth precision, I almost question it too. There’s just something sexy about a man who knows how to handle such a beautiful car that makes you want him. Again, I have to shake myself out of it.

Jesus, I need to get a grip. And remember what I’m doing this for. I cannot catch feelings for this asshole. I turn my attention out the window and remain quiet while he drives. When he told me he was taking me to dinner, I half expected some pub grub. But instead, we end up at an upscale restaurant in the Back Bay. Not just any restaurant, but a very well known- and Russian owned- restaurant.

I give him a sideways glance as I try to understand his motives for bringing me here. This isn’t coincidence, it’s strategy. He wants the Russians to see him here with me. But why?

I don’t have long to mull it over. He gets out of the car and I follow suit. The hostess doesn’t ask for Lachlan’s name, she knows him on sight. Two minutes later, we’re sitting in one of the best seats in the house with a personal welcome from the chef.

I know I should be using this opportunity to get a good look at some of his business associates, but I feel uncomfortable here. I’m not one to frequent restaurants like this. These were the types of places I used to pass by as a kid, staring in through the glass windows as the upper class ate their nice meals. I felt so much resentment knowing that Talia and I would either be begging or stealing for our dinner.

It hardened me. These life experiences of mine took away any fragility I may have had left. I don’t like to associate myself with these people. Even now, I still live on the fringes of society. I have a nice warm bed and food in my belly, but the resentment is still there, and I’m not sure why.

Maybe because I don’t have a place in this world. Or a family. Or anyone who cares if I go missing. Only Scarlett. And someday, she’ll probably disappear too. And then it will be just me, and I can’t even imagine how dark my world will be then.

I’m selfish for feeling this way. For letting this fear control me. But I can’t think about that now. So I glance at the menu and pretend that I come to places like this all the time. I order Chilean Sea Bass and Lachlan orders a steak and a glass of Patron on ice for me… just the way I like it. Under any other circumstances I’d be surprised that he picked up on such a detail, but this is a man who’s constantly watching his surroundings.

When I lick the salt off the rim and take a sip, I belatedly realize the more likely reason he remembered it. His eyes are intense as he watches my little performance of squeezing the lime and sucking the juice off my thumb.

“Nothing for you?” I ask sweetly.

“Not yet.” He leans forward on his elbows. “We’ll have a drink at the club.”

We. He said we. He’s taking me to dinner, and now he’s talking about drinks? Red flags are popping up everywhere here. He might be attracted to me, but I know he doesn’t like me. There’s a big difference, and it’s written all over his face. He’s suspicious as hell and I highly suspect he kind of wishes I’d just disappear. So what’s with all the other stuff? I can’t figure it out.

“I thought you real Paddy’s only drank the black stuff,” I tease.

He scowls at me and sits back in his chair without a response. Sheesh. Case and point.

The waiter brings our food and we eat in silence. It’s all so very… date like. If I were on a date with a serial killer who was sizing me up like his prey, but whatever. Lucky for me, Lachlan and I are both in the business of keeping secrets, so there’s no need to fill the silence. In fact, I like that he’s okay with it. Sometimes just glaring at each other across the table is enough.

By the time we’re through with our meals, it’s time for me to go to work. Lachlan pays and escorts me back out to the car. He even opens my door for me, which really freaks me out. Surely he’s not trying to woo me. Right?

I don’t have to wonder about it for long. As we drive, I discover the real reason he took me out.

“A couple things I need to go over, Mack.”

“I’m all ears.” I cross my legs and give him my full attention.

“I’m still not convinced this club is the right place for a girl like you.”

“Whatever the fuck that means,” I retort.

He shoots me a glare and then continues on. “I’ve done my homework on you.”

I turn my attention back to the city. “I’m not surprised.”

“Have ye got a problem with the Russians?” he asks.

My chest constricts, but I try to maintain my cool. There’s no way he could know my plan. No way in hell. But why else would he be asking?

“No problem,” I say.

“Word is your oul’ man lost a fight.”

“He didn’t fuckin’ lose a fight,” I snarl. “He was jumped in a dark alley…”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about,” Lachlan says. “Ye’re gonna have to keep that shite under wraps if ye want to work for me. We get plenty of Russians in the club.”

I shut my mouth and cross my arms. That’s what he thinks? This is about my father. I guess, in a way, it partly is. But I’ve let my emotions show too easily. A rookie mistake.

“That why ye’re here, Mack?” he asks. “Have ye got it in your head to get some revenge?”

I go the obvious route of denying it.

“I just want to work. I don’t care about the Russians.”

Lachlan nods and taps his fingers against his thigh again. A gesture I still can’t quite make out. Does it mean he’s nervous, agitated, anxious? His expression gives nothing away. “Another thing, Mack.”

He waits until I give him my full attention before he goes on.

“There’s only one rule ye must abide by at all times if ye’re in my employ. You don’t ever… and I mean fucking ever… talk to the cops about anything.”

“Are you outta your mind?” I’m genuinely offended by his comment. “I’m from Southie. I ain’t no fuckin’ snitch.”

At least I wasn’t. Until Talia. Now, I don’t care. I’ll sing like a canary if it puts these guys away. Fuck what anybody else says.

“Jaysus, woman,” he sighs. “Ye clean up your fecking mouth before I do it for you. You want to work for me ye better start acting like a lady.”

“I am a goddamn lady.” I grin.

He shakes his head. I really like pushing his buttons, and I don’t know why. This is probably not going to end so well.

“One more thing,” he says as we pull up to the club.

I swivel in my seat and meet his intense gaze with questioning eyes. The hand at his side is tapping more insistently now, and the next words out of his mouth tell me exactly why.

“I’d rather not have to kill you.”

Here it is. The reality of the situation I’m in. I heed his warning for exactly what it is. I simply nod, and this time, there’s no grin on my face. I can tell by his tone he’s dead serious.

“Don’t give me a reason to, butterfly.”

“I won’t,” I choke out. Another lie.

Without another word, he gets out of the car and escorts me into the building. We walk straight past the bouncers and into the back, where he points at another girl warming up on stage.

“That’s Sasha,” he says. “She’ll help you get settled in.”

I nod and turn to go when he grabs me by the arm with a firm grip. “Remember what I said, Mack. Appetizer only.”

Chapter Eight

Mackenzie

Sasha is the female embodiment of natural beauty. She’s petite with soft curves and a body that I’m sure most men have a hard time looking away from. Her hair is a natural dark and her eyes blue like my own. Except where I’m hard, she’s sweet and soft spoken. She reminds me a little of Talia that way, and she actually turns out to be pretty nice. She grew up in Dot so she’s like a neighbor to me. Instantly, that makes us friends of course. We take care of our own in these parts of Boston.

In the twenty minutes I spend warming up with her, I learn that she is twenty-three and has been a dancer for the past two years. She doesn’t say anything about who got her into the club or divulge any obvious fear about working for the Irish mafia. Not that I expect her to blab right away, but I decide that maybe if I wear her down a little later she’ll give something up.

In the meantime, I put on my best smile and try to act my age for once. When the other dancers file into the dressing room, I quickly realize that this might not be as breezy as I anticipated. Scarlett warned me how competitive this industry is, and that most of the clubs are just like being back in high school. Between the dirty looks and catty comments, it’s quite obvious I’m considered enemy number one at the moment. This isn’t helping my chances of getting any information from the girls, but I try not to let it get to me. My main concern is getting close to the Russians. I need to know firsthand what happens to the women that entertain them.

I retouch my makeup with Sasha while some of the other girls chatter around us. When a tall brunette with bronzed skin and a statuesque body starts running her mouth, I try to ignore her. I’ve been around the block enough times to know how these games work. At first, it’s just little comments. She says something about me not paying house fees. Then something else about me not doing lap dances, because I think I’m better than them. But when her words fail to provoke an external reaction from me, she moves on to the big guns. She props her hip against the vanity and eyes me with disdain.

“Would you get a look at her?” she snaps her gum. “Exotic dancer my ass. She’s probably been giving hummers in back alleys for five dollars.”

A couple of the other girls snicker, and Sasha clears her throat. “Mandy…”

Mandy doesn’t stop. In fact, she takes things up a notch. By calling me the worst thing one girl can call another. “Is Lachlan on crack or what? Hiring this fricken’ slam pig.”

Oh, hell no. She did not just call me a fricken’ slam pig. I’m up and in her face before I can stop myself.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“You heard me.” She grins and draws out the words with dramatic hand gestures. “You’re a skeezah.”

“Jesus, Mandy.” One of the other girls tries to pull her away. “Are you off your head? That’s the girl that took Donovan out at the fights.”

“You think I give a shit?” Mandy spits. “Get a look at her. What’s she gonna’ do to me? Huh?”

“I’m gonna’ murder you if you keep runnin’ your mouth.”

Before I get a chance to carry through on it, Sasha tugs me away and takes me across the room to cool my jets. I’ve always been a hot-head, but I have to be. On the streets, you can’t take shit from no one. And if this were any other place, I would have held my ground. But I need this stupid job, and like it or not, I need these girls to trust me.

“Don’t worry about them honey,” Sasha says.

“Frigging slam pig,” I mutter. “She’s the slam pig.”

“They’re just jealous because word got around that you’re Lachlan’s girl,” Sasha explains.

“That’s not true,” I deny vehemently. “And besides, I’m pretty sure he hates my guts.”

She raises her delicate brows and leans a little closer, talking in a whisper. “He told all of his crew there’s a strict hands-off policy in effect for you. These guys won’t even look at you now. Why else would he do that unless he wants you for himself?”

I know exactly why. Because he doesn’t trust me. These guys are territorial of their women by nature, but I really don’t think that’s what’s going on here. They are also protective as hell of their brethren.

I glance back at the other dancers, who are all stealing little glances my way. “So that’s why they’re all pissy with me?”

“Yep.” Sasha nods. “Some of these girls have been pulling out all the stops to get what you just did in like five minutes.”

“It wasn’t five minutes,” I argue. “And I didn’t even do anything.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger, honey.” She holds up her hands. “I’m just sayin’. You should probably watch out for Mandy. She’s got it bad for him and she can be a real bitch.”

“Good to know.” I glance across the room and find the woman in question. My inner tiger opens her claws when she tosses me another glance and gives me a phony smile. I can already tell she’s not going to make this easy for me. Little does she know I’d be glad to let her have Lachlan so I can focus on what I need to do.

At least that’s what I tell myself as I stand up and make my way to the stage entrance. It’s just a game. And Lachlan is nothing to me. Nothing at all.

***

For my two song set, I’ve chosen Closer by Nine Inch Nails followed up with Manson’s Heart Shaped Glasses. Lachlan might have only given me two songs, but he didn’t say anything about the length of music. And the more stage time I get, the better. He might be trying to stack the odds against me, but at the end of the day, men are still men.

I’m wearing a leather studded monokini and knee high black boots as I step onto stage. The VIP area has only about ten patrons total, and it’s a much more intimate setting than I was expecting. Tonight there also a few Russians in the audience just as I had hoped. They are pretty easy to pick out because of their tattoos. Not to mention they don’t dress like the Irish. I’ll be watching all of them with laser focus during my performance.

During my twelve minutes of stage time, I pull out all of my best tricks and give it my all knowing the pressure is on. I need to catch these guys interest and let the other dancers know that I’m not going anywhere. There are a few girls working the crowd and flirting with the men, but nothing really seedy going on yet, as far as I can tell. These guys all look like typical club patrons, but I know there are darker things lurking beneath the façade. I’ll have to get closer to them to find out exactly what those things are.

Throughout my performance, nobody hassles me about taking off my outfit. I guess Sasha’s prediction was correct. Not that I want other dudes grabbing all over my body, but it’s going to make narrowing down my suspect pool that much harder. Thank you very much Lachlan Crow. On the upside, I’ve still managed to rake in the tips by the time I finish. The emcee helps me collect them before I head backstage.

I don’t even make it fully behind the curtain before a strong pair of arms grab me and pin me up against the wall. Even in the dark, I can feel his penetrating eyes on me.

“Butterfly,” he growls into my ear.

He sounds kind of pissed, but I’m not entirely sure. Because he’s doing that thing again. Getting really close… all up in my bubble, and I don’t know how to handle it.

“I’m all sweaty,” I squeak.

He burrows his face in my hair, inhaling deeply… and shocking the hell out of me. “Do ye fancy being up on stage?”

His tone is frustrated. By the way he’s caging me in with his body and the tension radiating off of his own, I know this is a trick question. I’m wading in dangerous waters here, because it seems I’ve managed to provoke the beast somehow.

“I like making money,” I say with as much conviction as I can muster.

“Does it make ye wet?” he accuses. “Dancing for the lads out there?”

“What?”

I am all sorts of confused. He’s told me he doesn’t want me here. He’s told me he doesn’t trust me. But right here and now, his body tells me something else. At this point I have no idea if he’s going to maul me or make love to me.

His hands are sliding all over my body, but I doubt he even realizes he’s doing it. His grip is rough, possessive, and his breath hot on my neck. I’m trying to think of a response, but when he rubs his palm between my legs, all thought flees. One little slip of fabric, and he could see for himself. The friction of his fingers against the fabric down there is doing crazy things to me.

“Lachlan, I…”

“Jaysus Christ.” He takes a step back and shakes his head. “This isn’t going to work.”

“What do you mean?” I demand. “I did a good job out there. Did you see all my tips?”

“I know ye did a good job.” He paces the floor and glares at me. “Too good a job, sweetheart. I don’t like it. What the fuck?”

It’s clear he’s questioning his logic just as much as I am. It looks like he can’t decide whether to strangle me or take me right here and now. Nobody has ever looked at me the way he’s looking at me at this moment. Like I’m his possession. Like if anyone else were to touch me, he’d break both their legs and an arm for good measure. It shouldn’t make me feel anything, but it does. And the worst part is, this is the last thing I need. I need to be working on the Russians to get my information, at least for a little while.

“You’ve already agreed to let me dance,” I say half-heartedly. “And I’m not going to sacrifice a good source of income just because you want to have a roll in the hay with me.”

His eyes fly to mine, and he laughs, one of those dark and deadly laughs of his. It makes my stomach clench.

“Ye’re pretty cocksure, aren’t you sweetheart?”

I just shrug. We both know he wants me, what’s the point in denying it? I’m guessing a man like Lachlan appreciates my honesty. Appreciates that I’m not giggling and laughing at his every word like some of the other women. Besides, I obviously can’t get as much past him as I was hoping, so bluntness can only help the situation.

He stalks into my space again. So close I have to crane my neck just to look up at him and my back is pressed flat against the wall.

“Ye’re right,” he says in a tight voice. “I’ve no trust for you, but I want ye just the same, Mack.”

I don’t speak, but I don’t need to. His eyes roam over my face, taking in every last detail like he’s proving something to himself. My pupils are probably dilated, sure. A biological reaction. Nothing more. And my chest is rising a little faster than normal. I just got done dancing, of course. The pulse that’s jumping in my throat? He especially likes that, I can see it in his eyes. But that’s nothing. I’m tired, hot, and I just need to get the hell out of here. Away from his overbearing presence and this stifling atmosphere.

“I don’t want ye to dance anymore,” he says. “I’ll find something else for you to do.”

“Like hell you will,” I argue. “I don’t want to do anything else. I just want to dance.”

Darkness seeps into his eyes like a deadly fog, obliterating any traces of gray. He isn’t used to women talking back to him, probably. Or anybody for that matter. I don’t care. He needs to learn that I’m not going to bow to his whims, regardless of his reputation and how threatening he can be. That’s probably what happened to Talia. She was naturally meek, submissive, a people pleaser. Someone with bad intentions could see that and easily take advantage of her.

“We’ll sort this out later.” Lachlan pulls away abruptly and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I have business to tend to. Get dressed and head out to the front bar. The lad named Ronan will take ye home.”

“I don’t need a lift home,” I argue.

“That one is not up for discussion,” he says as he heads for the door. “Good night, Mackenzie.”

Chapter Nine

Mackenzie

Ignoring Lachlan’s instructions, I make my way into the pit. I figure I probably have at least ten minutes before one of the men comes looking for me.

I circle the room, keeping a close eye on the Russians and eavesdropping on their conversations. Unfortunately for me, they love to speak in their native tongue, so it doesn’t give me much to go on. But watching them, getting to know their mannerisms and seeing how they respond to the other dancers is a good place to start. One of them is getting a little too grabby for my liking, even though the dancer is playing it down with flirtatious giggles.

I walk past the table and bump it on purpose, spilling the drink that rests there.

“Oh no,” I gasp. “I’m so sorry.”

The guy looks up at me and I smile apologetically. “It’s my first night.”

He pulls a handkerchief from his suit pocket and starts dabbing at the liquid while he mutters something under his breath. The other dancer who I’m pretty sure is named Kaya, glares at me. She gestures across the room, and before I even get a chance to have a conversation with the guy, one of the Irish goons appears from the shadows.

He crosses his arms and looks down at the Russian, rattling off a stream of words I don’t understand. Except for the one I do.

Lachlan.

The Russian glares at me and shoos me away with his hand as the Irish guy grabs my arm and escorts me to the back.

He releases me with a glare and points to the dressing room. “Ye have no business being in the lounge area,” he says. “If that were any other lad, he’d be downstairs waiting to have some of his appendages removed by now.”

I glare right back and cross my arms. “It was an accident. I bumped his frigging table. It’s not like I was trying to get in his pants.”

“Doesn’t matter what the fuck ye were doing,” he says. “I’ll be telling Lachlan about it.”

“You go right ahead,” I insist.

“Get ready,” he says. “You’re due to leave. Now.”

He leaves, and I get dressed. I know I should go out front, but I just take the opportunity to peek through the curtain and watch some of the other girls do their dance sets. My suspicions were correct. The guys are all over them, trying to play grabass while they work the stage. Most of them don’t seem to mind. But when Sasha goes up on stage, they go unnaturally silent and keep their hands to themselves again. After she collects her tips, she comes back stage to touch up her makeup before she tries to set off again.

I snag her by the arm and stop her before she goes.

“How many sets do you do?” I ask.

“I do three a night,” she says.

“And that’s it, right?” I press. “It’s just working the stage, and lap dances. Nothing else?”

She gives me a sad little laugh and shakes her head. “No lap dances for you, honey. Lachlan thinks you belong to him I guess. Do you think he wants other guys rubbing all up on you?”

A weird look passes over her face as she says it, and I have to think there’s more than what she’s telling me.

“Oh.” I frown. I still don’t get it. Is this because he doesn’t trust me or because he wants me? And either way, what does it matter?

“So you do lap dances then?” I ask.

Sasha hems and haws and looks around the dressing room before she cracks. “Well, no. Not technically. I don’t know why, but one day Lachlan just told me I wasn’t supposed to do them anymore. I didn’t ask why.”

Of course not. I nearly roll my eyes. Who would second guess Lachlan’s orders. Still it confuses me. Does he have a thing for Sasha too? And why does the thought of that even make me feel uptight?

Sensing my train of thought, she shakes her head.

“It’s not that,” she says quietly and then bites her lip. “I think it’s just out of respect for my ex, but I don’t know for sure. Either way, I don’t really care. I just count myself lucky.”

“That’s why the other girls don’t like you either,” I observe.

She gives me a meek nod. “They think I act above my station. But I’m just another dancer. I doubt the men out there can even tell us apart.”

I want to ask her more while she’s in a giving mood, but then another man walks into the room, and Sasha goes tense and quiet. His gaze is practically glacial as he glances in her direction, and his body reflects the same stance. If I wasn’t paying such close attention, I would assume he hates her. But I am paying close attention, so instead, I notice the very brief flick of his eyes over her body and the way his pupils dilate before he moves his attention to me.

I don’t even have to ask to know this is my handler. Ronan Fitzpatrick. I’ve heard a few things about him too. He’s Lachlan’s soldier and confidante. Also migrated from Belfast around the same time which would imply to me that they are old chums. I hate to admit it, but he’s another handsome Irish bastard. He looks different from the others though. He’s impeccably dressed in a sharp suit and wears black- framed glasses. His posture is unnaturally stiff, and he has an impenetrable wall of cool civility surrounding him.

Sasha shifts awkwardly beside me, her eyes darting everywhere but at Ronan. I mentally catalogue that information for later before I tell her thank you and goodbye.

To his credit, Ronan gives me a nod as I grab up my bags, and his eyes never dip below my face. Loyal to a fault. You mess with another man’s woman in this crew, it’s a death sentence. And apparently these guys think I belong to Lachlan.

Ronan escorts me through the bar in silence and then gestures to another guy who joins us a moment later. The three of us walk out the door and the new guy introduces himself as Rory as he climbs inside the driver’s seat. Ronan takes the passenger side and I sit in the back.

The silence is almost painful as we drive, so I start blabbering. I need to build a rapport with anyone and everyone I can. Any one of them could have the information I need.

“How are you boys tonight?

“Oh we’re just grand.” Rory smirks and winks at me through the rear-view mirror. “But you aren’t supposed to talk to us, ye know.”

“Hey buddy, it’s a free country.”

“I’m just being a gobshite,” Rory laughs. “If you need something, my pal Ronan here is at your service. Isn’t that right, Ronan?”

Hm, manservants. A girl could get used to this kind of treatment.

“You mean like at the club?” I ask. “Or do I get a beeper too? Ooh, what about one of those little bells. I can ring it, and then he comes running…”

Rory nearly busts a lung in his fit of laughter.

“She’s a right wee pussycat isn’t she?”

Ronan grunts. “Find that rather amusing, do you? I’ll be glad to let ye know that I’ll be watching over you every minute of the day. So go on, just try to pull a fast one on Lachlan. See how that works out for ye.”

Sheesh, what got his panties in a bunch?

“Protective much?” I retort. “What makes you think I’m going to do something to Lachlan?”

“He doesn’t trust you,” Rory answers. “But don’t worry, he doesn’t trust anybody.”

“Seems to be a recurring theme around you boys,” I huff.

He doesn’t reply. And when I get to the motel, I’m not surprised in the least when I go inside and they remain in the parking lot for the night. Welcome to my new life. A prisoner of my own making.

***

After a scalding hot shower and a quick peek out the window, I take my notes out of my hiding place and unroll them. I prop myself on the bathroom counter and write in there just in case Lachlan decides to come banging down my door again. To my relief, he doesn’t. It’s much easier to think when he’s not around.

Since I didn’t get a chance to mingle with the Russians tonight, I go through each person that I’ve met so far and write down my first impressions of them and anything I think might be of use. Out of all the dancers, Sasha is probably going to be my best shot at getting information. She’s got a good heart. A little too soft, like Talia, and it makes me hate myself for using her. But I have to keep my eye on the prize.

Rory is a big guy, and I know from seeing him at the fights he’s an honest and fair fighter. That says a lot in my book. It’s an intuitive guess but I highly doubt he had anything to do with Talia’s disappearance, so I put him on the bottom of the list.

Ronan is a little bit more difficult to pin down. Under his very stiff and unsociable exterior, I know something darker lurks. But I didn’t notice him looking at any of the dancers tonight, except for Sasha. I’ll have to keep an eye on him. His loyalty to Lachlan runs deep, and he’ll probably be the toughest nut to crack.

As for the rest of them, I organize into order of importance. I want to get more information on Niall since he’s the one running the show. But also Donovan because there’s just something about that guy that rubs me the wrong way. I already know he’s got anger issues, and judging from his reaction to me beating him in the fights, I doubt he’d hesitate to take it out on women. So for now those are two possibilities from the Irish side of things. But I can’t rule out the dancers either. Mandy is very territorial, and it’s also possible that maybe one of them could have done something to Talia. It’s a long shot, but I can’t overlook any avenue.

After a couple hours of taking notes and strategizing, I chomp down a granola bar and collapse into bed. I’ve only been at this for one day, and already I’m exhausted. Even still, when I flop back onto the pillow and stare up at the ceiling, sleep doesn’t come.

Chapter Ten

Lachlan

“C’mon, Crow,” Dominic taunts.

“Fack off.” I swing at him and miss.

“You’d better cop on to yourself.”

If he wasn’t right, I’d punch him just for saying so. All the lads are watching. Sean too, of course. They can see me stumbling, losing the plot. Can’t even focus on what’s straight in front of me. I’ve got too much shite floating around my head. This stuff with the Russians. The conversation I need to have with Niall. And the girl as well now.

Dominic always gets his arse handed to him. Always. But today, I couldn’t punch my way out of a bloody paper sack.

“Let me have a go.” Ronan steps into the ring. Keeping my focus on Dom, I wave him off.

“It wasn’t a goddamned question.” Next thing I know, he’s clattering me with a perfect left hook to my jaw.

“What the bleeding hell’s got your knickers in a twist?” I ask.

His only reply is to swing at me again. I slam into him and pretty soon we’re rolling around on the mats, punching each other in the face and landing shots anywhere we can reach.

“Alright lads,” Jimmy calls out. “Clear the floor.”

There’s some bitching and moaning from the fellas but I’m too focused on murdering Ronan to give a fuck. I get a solid shot in and his head snaps to the side, blood pouring out of his nose. He repays me with an uppercut that sends my teeth clean into my lip.

I rear back and pull my arm with me, determined to finish him. He rolls out from under me and lands a knee to my chest. It steals the wind from me and I splutter out the only defense I’ve got left.

“Fucking cunt.”

I stumble up onto my feet and spit the blood from my mouth, wiping my lips on my hand. Ronan stares at me, body tense and his own chest heaving for breath. He’s not a brawler by nature, he’s an out and out killer. So I know something has really set him off here.

“What’s your beef now?” I ask again.

“That’s exactly the question, isn’t it? Do ye take me for a man who likes to sit around and babysit?”

I grin, in spite of myself. Goddamn Ronan, the temperamental bastard.

“Ye’re the one who said ye didn’t trust her.”

“Ye’re the one who brought her in. This isn’t a fecking joke, Crow. The lads are all watching you right now. Sean is watching you. Looking for weaknesses.”

“I’ve no delusions about that,” I reply.

Silence falls between us. Ronan is my best mate. Always watching my back. He knows me better than most. My secrets, my weaknesses. But right now, he’s looking at me like he doesn’t know me from the bloody janitor. I can’t tell him what the fuss is all about, because he’s too much of a wildcard himself. He respected Carrick as much as I did. If I even planted so much as a seed of doubt in his mind about our alliance, he’d burn their whole syndicate to the ground or die trying.

That’s Ronan. Loyal like no other. He has his reasons for being the way he is. Likes to believe I saved him somehow. He saved himself. I don’t argue the point because I reckon this logic helps him sleep better at night.

“Have ye any idea when you’d care to fill me in?” Ronan asks bitterly.

I jerk my eyes away and use my shirt to towel off my face. “There’s nothing to fill in, lad.”

He laughs, and it always sounds odd coming from him. Ronan doesn’t laugh. He’s quiet, observant, never funny. But this isn’t a funny laugh.

“Fuck you too.” He walks to the door.

“I need ye to keep eyes on her,” I call after him.

He pauses, palm on the door handle.

“Ye’re the only one I trust, Ronan.”

His back straightens, and I get a jerk of a nod in response. He doesn’t like it, but he’ll do it. “I’ll sort it out, Crow. I always do.”

Chapter Eleven

Mackenzie

The next night, Ronan comes back to take me to the club again. Apparently convinced he can handle me on his own now, Rory is absent, which is okay by me. I want to use the opportunity to talk to him. There’s been a burning question on my mind that I can’t seem to shake. I want to eliminate Lachlan from my pool of suspects in Talia’s disappearance. Why that’s so important to me, I have no idea. It could just as easily be him involved as anyone else.

“So do you do this for all of Lachlan’s girls?” I ask.

He pauses at a stoplight and stares over at me as if I’ve lost my mind. I suppose I probably have, asking questions like these. But what I really want to know is if he ever drove Talia anywhere.

“I see to whatever needs seeing to,” he answers.

Hm, okay. When all else fails, use sarcasm.

“That many, huh?”

“Jaysus,” he mutters. “Ye sure are nosy. Haven’t ye ever heard that women are better seen and not heard?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Fricken, chowdahead. “Sounds like the words of a bitter man to me, Ronan. Did you get your little gangster heart broken?”

I’m totally joking, but when he scowls at me, I know I’ve hit the nail on the head without even meaning to. It kind of makes sense when I put two and two together. He’s so broody all the time and wears a permanent scowl on his face. Someone whose nerves I could easily get onto- and generally would without question- but now I feel a little sliver of guilt.

“Ye want to know if I drive other women around for Lachlan?” his fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “Sure. He’s out on the razzle every night with a different ride. Something to think about when ye’re trying to sink your claws into him.”

Sheesh, I really hit a nerve. Who knew gangsters could be so touchy? And why exactly does what he’s saying even bother me? He’s got this smug smile on his face because he knows it too. Bastard.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about buddy,” I lie. “I’m here to work. I was just trying to make some friendly conversation is all.”

He grunts in response. Obviously I have my work cut out for me with this guy. I shut my mouth and remain silent for the remainder of the ride. When we arrive, Ronan escorts me to the back and then takes a seat outside near the stage. I guess he really will be watching me every second of the day.

I walk towards the dressing room, knowing I’m a little early, and not expecting any of the other girls to be here yet. So when I round the corner and find Donovan with his cock balls deep in Sasha’s mouth, I freeze in shock. Before I can even get my bearings, he grunts out his release and shoves her head away.

“Jesus,” I mutter. “That’s going to haunt my nightmares.”

He wheels around and zips up his pants, eyeing me off in disbelief.

“This fuckin’ cunt. What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

I don’t reply, and I don’t bother to leave either. He’s trying to make me uncomfortable, and the worst thing you can do with a guy like this is to let him think he’s got your goat.

A slow smile spreads across his face as he reaches down and grabs his junk through his pants. “You want to take a ride next, babe? See how tough you are with my big, fat cock up your ass?”

“Not even if you were the last man on earth.” I smile sweetly.

“Jesus, Donny.” Sasha tugs on his shirt. “You better be careful. She’s Lachlan’s.”

“Lachlans?” he furrows his brow. “You gotta’ be shittin’ me. He’s banging this broad?”

“She’s his,” Sasha repeats.

Though it couldn’t be further from the truth, I don’t negate it. I want to see how Donny handles this information. He shoots me another glance and this time the irritation in his eyes is unmistakable. With a dismissive wave of his hand he makes for the door.

“Fuck that, you ain’t worth the trouble.”

The minute he’s gone, I glance over at Sasha, who has tears leaking out of her eyes and smeared mascara.

“Really, Sash?” I give her a pointed stare. “That guy?”

She fakes a smile and sits down in front of the mirror. “It’s what Donny expects, honey. And it’s easier to just give him what he wants, otherwise he’ll be making trouble for all of us.”

“Does Lachlan know about this?” I ask.

Her face pales and she shakes her head. “You can’t say anything to him, Mack. I don’t want no trouble. I’ve got a sick mother to support.”

I smash my lips together and nod to ease her worries, but like hell is that going to be the last word on this subject. Sasha starts fixing up her makeup, and I sit down beside her to watch since mine’s already done.

“I didn’t know if you’d be back,” she says.

“I’m tougher than I look.”

“I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into,” she replies in a bitter tone.

“What do you mean?”

“This whole world, it’s just… a whirlwind, you know. I never know if I’m comin’ or going half the time. These guys will protect you like one of their own, but they’ll also use you up if you let em’.”

“Well, maybe they should be worried about me using them up,” I tease.

Sasha laughs and shakes her head. “I highly doubt it, now that Lachlan’s put the word out. They wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, honey. But don’t go thinking that means anything. He’ll still fuck whoever the hell he wants. It’s how things work in this world.”

I swallow the annoying lump in my throat as Sasha applies her lipstick.

“Did you date one of these guys, Sash?”

Again, she laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I wouldn’t call it dating. He fucked me whenever it suited him until he ended up burning rubber outta’ town. He’s the one who dragged me into this world, and now I’m stuck here.”

“Jesus, Sasha… that’s awful. I’m sorry.”

She blinks back the glassiness in her eyes and fixes her mascara.

“It’s not so bad,” she says. “I probably shouldn’t be unloading all this crap on you, huh? Niall and his men have done right by me, so I can’t complain about any of that. I’m just having an off day and I don’t want to see you get hurt like I did.”

“So besides Donovan, you haven’t had any trouble with the rest of them?” I ask curiously. “I mean… what about the Russians? I’ve heard a whole bunch of stories about them.”

Sasha’s face pales a little at my question, and I know I’m onto something. But she clams up real quick and starts shoving all her makeup back into her bag.

“No problems,” she says quickly. “Just the usual stuff, you know. Women drama. I gotta’ go get warmed up.”

Before I have a chance to stop her, Lachlan makes an appearance. And I’m not exactly sure why, but I’m already annoyed with him. All of that stuff Ronan said in the car, and now Sasha too. He might as well have a giant target on his forehead for my arrows.

“Come here.” He gestures towards the door.

Would you get a load of this character? Come here, he says, like I’ll just do it.

I do.

He pins me up against the wall and boxes me in with his arms again. When I look up at him, he’s got that possessive look on his face. It’s making my chest feel weird, and I want it to stop.

“Did you need something?” I ask. “Or you just want to manhandle me some more?”

“What did I tell ye about that mouth?” he grunts.

“That it’s pretty and looks good in red lipstick?”

His lip twitches, despite his best efforts to hide it.

“I’ll have that drink with ye tonight,” he says.

“What drink?”

“You promised me a drink.”

Yeah, right. He’s probably squeezed me in right between Mandy and Cinnamon. Pfft.

“I did not. And besides, I’m busy tonight.”

His eyes harden and he leans a little closer. He smells good.

“Doing what?” he asks.

“That isn’t your concern.”

He takes a step back and scrubs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t play these games, Mack.”

“So?”

“That’s all,” he says. And then he walks down the hall.

Chapter Twelve

Lachlan

Just after eleven, Niall drops into the club. When he sits down across from me in my office, I already know the reason for his visit.

“Viktor called me.”

I scrub my hands over my face and nod. Should’ve seen this coming.

“Are we going to have a problem here, Lachlan?”

“No,” I tell him resolutely. “The girl is not a threat.”

“He isn’t convinced of that,” Niall says. “And neither am I. The sooner we can sort this out, the better for all of us.”

I’d like to tell him I agree. It’s the right thing to do. For all of us. Instead, I open my cabinet and pull out the ballistics report and hand it off to him.

“Confirmation for Viktor that the problem is on their end.”

Niall nods as his eyes scan over the report and then he stuffs it into his jacket.

“Who is this girl they want?”

“Some foster kid from the projects,” I tell him. “She knows to keep her mouth shut. I don’t reckon she’s clued in on anything like Ivan claims.”

“Ye’ll need to tread carefully here, Lachlan. I don’t need to remind ye the way things are right now.”

I glance across the desk at the man I’ve respected all these years. Always, I’ve trusted his judgement. I’ve done what he asked without question. And if he’d have told me a week ago that the girl needed to be offed, I haven’t a clue what I’d have said.

We aren’t in the business of killing women. Niall doesn’t like it. Would prefer to avoid it if he can. But this time, things are different. Our whole syndicate rests on the balance of this girl. To cross the Russians at this point would be a death sentence to all of us.

I’m stating the bleeding obvious here. Logic tells me I’ve no choice but to hand her over to them when the time comes. I can’t allow her to get in the way of my plans.

Niall sighs. He can read me better than anyone, and it only irritates me further. He needs to know I’m ready. That I’m loyal to the syndicate and nothing else. But my silence is reading like something else right now.

“This is on you, Lachlan. Regardless of how it came about, the responsibility lies on your shoulders now. Your fate is tied to hers. Ye follow me?”

“Aye. I follow ye.”

I don’t need a psychic to tell me I’m going to regret this.

“Ye’ll need to meet with Viktor’s daughters soon,” he continues. “You and Sean both.”

I unbutton my collar and loosen it from around my neck as I give him a stiff nod.

“Of course.”

Niall is appraising me, an obvious question in his eyes. Am I going to lose the plot? Go soft on him over this girl? Is Sean a better choice than me for the position?

It’s this last question that reaffirms my dedication. I cannot allow a woman to stuff up my plans for the syndicate. The one thing I’ve been working towards all these years. And my final promise to Carrick. I told him I’d do him proud, and I will see this through, no matter the cost.

Rory knocks and opens the door. Niall and I both turn our attention towards him.

“What is it?” Niall asks.

“The Italians started some beef with one of our guys down at Micko’s. They think it was us who hit one of their shipments last night.”

“Fucking Italians,” Niall and I both mutter at the same time.

Rory throws his hands up and shrugs. “If it isn’t them it’s the goddamn Armenians breathing down our throats. This has their brand of sloppiness written all over it.”

“We can expect more where that came from,” I chime in. “Looks like things are drying up for them in Cali, they’re all heading back East.”

“Aye, well,” Niall says, “times are changing. There’s bound to be a war on the horizon.”

He glances at his watch and then back to me. What he’s thinking has already crossed my mind. There’s loads of cash sitting in the basement right now, waiting for the Russians.

“We’ve got the drop tonight.”

He nods and then goes about instructing Rory. “Send half the crew to deal with the Italians. Tell them to be quick about it.”

I’m not too keen on this plan. Leaving the club without a load of protection on tonight of all nights isn’t wise, but Niall sees it as a necessary measure. Allowing anyone to infringe on our territory or fuck with our lads makes us look weak, and the consequences of such behavior must be swift and harsh. That’s what the syndicate is all about.

Niall stands up and adjusts his coat.

“I have a recital to get to.”

“Give the girls my best wishes,” I tell him.

He nods and slips out the door.

Chapter Thirteen

Mackenzie

Lachlan told me when I started here that I was supposed to be the appetizer. So when I find out they’ve switched my set to follow Mandy’s, I get a little annoyed. She’s going to be up on stage taking her clothes off and then I’m supposed to follow it up with just a teaser?

It’s ridiculous, and I have no doubt Lachlan is punishing me for my little performance earlier. Still, I don’t let on to it as I step onto the stage prepared to knock em’ dead. He can make it as difficult as he wants. I always did love a challenge.

Tonight I’m wearing an artfully shredded spandex mini dress that just barely covers my nipples and lady parts. I’ve chosen Bad Girlfriend by Theory of a Deadman and Buckcherry’s Crazy Bitch for my set. Fitting to my mood.

I start off with a bang. My moves are on point, and the men are wagging their tongues. Lachlan’s in the pit, watching me with an expression that doesn’t give anything away. But the tapping of his fingers on his thigh and the way he glances at the men around him tells me enough. Halfway through my performance, Mandy sidles up to him, sipping playfully from her drink.

His attention moves to her and something inside of me goes a little haywire as I watch her swivel her hips in time to the music. She’s trying to give him his own private show during my fricken’ performance. Gah. The nerve of this woman. And yet I have to wonder why it even bothers me.

It shouldn’t. I never planned to get close to Lachlan. But things are complicated and confusing as hell and the only thing I know right now is that I hate seeing him with her. I tell myself it’s smart to stay under his protection. I tell myself that I still haven’t ruled him out as a source of information. And when the music ends and I’m marching down to his table, I tell myself these are the reasons why.

He arches a brow at me and leans back in his chair while Mandy practically snarls at me.

“I’m ready for that drink now,” I tell him.

“Ah, is that so, sweetheart?” he asks. “I’m fairly certain that earlier…”

I don’t let him finish. I move between his legs and sit right down on his lap, shooting Mandy a satisfactory glance as I’ve staked my territory.

“Or we could just have it right here. Whatever you want, Lach.”

Mandy stalks off to find another victim for the night and he laughs, but his humor doesn’t last long. He traces a fingertip down my cheek and right below the swell of my lips, which his eyes are laser focused on.

“I don’t fancy being teased, butterfly.”

“No teasing,” I say. “I want to have a drink with you. Like I promised.”

“My choice then?” he asks.

I nod.

He grabs me around the waist and grinds my hips down onto his obvious erection before leaning forward to whisper in my ear.

“This what you want, Mack?” he nips my earlobe. “Because I make no promises of being a gentleman once I get you alone.”

Shit. Now I’ve gone and done it. I told myself I’d never let any of them touch me. What I’m supposed to be doing right now is walking around the VIP room and flirting my way through the Russians. That’s what I came here for.

But I can’t stop myself from looking at Lachlan. Wondering what it is he sees in me. Wondering why he’s decided to ease up on his attitude towards me. Is it possible that I actually want him to want me?

No. Definitely not.

If I’m being logical, I have to reason that there’s every chance he could be involved. He runs this club. He’d know more than anyone in it. That’s why I need to stick close to him.

I think.

I bite my lip and nod, and a moment later, he’s hauling me down the hall to his office. He lifts me by the waist and sets me on top of his desk.

“Don’t move.”

I smile as he disappears down the hall like his pants are on fire. And of course, I disobey him by jumping down and rifling through his desk drawers while I have the chance. I highly doubt there’s going to be anything in here with Talia’s name on it, but it can’t hurt to check.

By the time I hear his footsteps coming back down the hall, I’ve surmised there’s nothing but legitimate looking business crap in here. Go figure. I pull out my iPod and scroll through the music as he swings the door open so he doesn’t get suspicious. I end up settling on a song just as he walks through with a tray of drinks. Not just any drinks, but Patron on the rocks with salt and lime.

If I was a romantic, I might actually think his gesture sweet. That is until his next words.

“Lay down.”

“On the desk?” I ask incredulously.

“That’ll be enough cheek out of ye now.”

I’m stalling, and he knows it. Those weird sensations are there again. The ones that make me feel out of control. I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, a mixture of dread and excitement at the prospect of flinging myself off of it.

I smile even though a nervous tremor runs up my spine. “Whatever you say, Lachlan.”

“Call me Lach,” he says in a husky voice. “Like ye did the other night.”

I peek up at him beneath the curtain of my hair and wonder if he’s still thinking about that too. I don’t have to wonder long. When I lay down on the desk, little glimpses of flesh catch his eye as he burns a hot path down my body and stalks closer.

“Just once,” he says. “One night of fun, Mack. That’s all this will be. And ye can never speak of it to anyone.”

I nod, but I’m pretty sure he’s only trying to convince himself and not me.

He grabs the salt shaker and shocks the hell out of me when he leans down and licks my bottom lip. He follows it up with a sprinkling of salt and repeats the same process again on my neck and the swell of my breast.

When he pulls back to examine his handiwork, my chest is rising and falling hard. I don’t know if it’s the anticipation of knowing what he’s going to do, or the way he’s looking at me, or even the dulcet tones of Godsmack’s Voodoo playing around us that has me so worked up. All I know is that the thought of his hands and mouth on my body is making me feel things I never expected. There’s some sort of dark energy pulling us together, growing more powerful by the second. I can’t even really be sure what it is. I feel like I’m drugged, high.

He bends over me, his breath skating over my skin before his lips ever touch me. My whole body shivers in response, and we lock eyes. It feels like everything else around us has just ceased to exist.  This spell between us, whatever it is, it’s stronger than either him or I.  Even now, there is doubt lingering in his eyes. Warring with the savage lust there too. He wants me when he knows he shouldn’t.

My hand twitches with the need to reach up and pull him to me. His eyes don’t miss it, and that’s the determining factor for him. He leans down and licks the salt off my lips in a way that makes me part them for him. His teeth nip at the sensitive skin, bringing a slight bite of pain to the sting of salt. My hands are in his hair, gripping and pulling as he tastes me in a way that leaves me feeling dazed and aching for more. His hands fumble with the spandex covering my nipples for all of two seconds before he just tears it apart altogether.

When his lips move down my throat, I whine in protest. But then he’s licking along my collarbone, tasting me in a place I never realized could be so sensitive. By the time he gets to my breast, I’m a puddle of need and wanting. His tongue swirls around my nipple, teasing but never quite touching. He uses his thumb to spread the tiny grains of salt over the erect bud, and when I think I can’t handle anymore, he descends on me again. His hot mouth is all over me, sucking, licking and nipping my breasts. I can’t even tell which is which anymore.

And then everything just stops. When he looks up at me his eyes are on fire, and my heart feels like it’s about to explode. He grabs the lime wedge and places it between my lips, and I just know I’m so royally fucked.

My breaths are coming hard and fast when he reaches for the Patron. He downs the shot, and then he’s leaning forward again, his lips wet and his eyes feral as he glances at the lime between my teeth. He smashes it between us, and I taste a hint of the salt and tequila before the lime falls away and there’s nothing but our lips crushing together.

I’m grabbing his hair and moaning against him when his tongue invades my mouth. I can’t tell anymore if I’m trying to push him away or pull him closer. I don’t like this. I never wanted any of this. So why do I need more?

I don’t know the answer to that question, and I don’t have time to think about it either. He pulls away briefly, preparing another shot. This time for me.

“Lick.” He holds out his wrist, and I obey slavishly.

He salts it like a pro and I suck on him the way he did to me. His skin is soft and warm and delicious. He groans and the sound alone nearly makes me have a seizure on the desk. I have no idea what’s going on with my body. Lachlan retrieves the ice cube from his empty glass with his fingers and rubs it against my lips. On instinct, they part, but not before some of the water drips down my throat. I arch up as he gingerly places the cube on my tongue and steals another kiss. The heat from his mouth and the cool of the ice combine to push me to an edge I’ve never been before. It feels foreign and strange.

I want to devour him right here and now. But he pulls away, insistent on me taking my shot.

“Drink.” His voice is rough, his eyes heavy with lust.

He watches me as I drink everything he gives to me, our eyes never leaving each other’s. The tequila goes down with a pleasant burn, followed swiftly by the juice of a lime. This time he squeezes it down my neck and between my breasts.

I’m panting again when his lips find my neck and lick and suck their way down. I want to get a grip, but then I don’t. I think this is what I was supposed to do. What I planned on doing, but I can’t think straight with his hands and mouth on my body. What was the plan again?

One of his hands is drifting lower, right between my thighs.

“Spread your legs,” he demands.

I do. Jesus. I fucking do it, just like that. I’m not even thinking straight.

I don’t know how, but his fingers are inside of me within seconds. And I’m soaking wet, I can feel it against him. He makes a sound in his throat as his mouth comes down to my breast and sucks it inside. It drives me insane. It feels too good. I think I must be delusional. Nothing’s ever felt so good.

This is all unchartered territory for me, but not for him. A part of me wonders if it’s always this way for him. And then I’m getting unbidden and unwanted flashes of him doing this same thing to Mandy.

I’ve got no frigging clue where it comes from, but the next thing I know I’m muttering something I shouldn’t.

“Mandy…”

“What?” he pauses to look up at me.

I arch up into his hand and urge him to keep going. “I don’t want you to touch her again,” I sneer.

I realize my mistake the moment it’s out of my mouth. He said one night. Fun only. That’s all I wanted too, I think. But he doesn’t get angry at my demand. His eyes spark with satisfaction and possession as he goes back to his ministrations with full force. I can hardly see straight, and I’m making all kinds of embarrassing noises. Lachlan must like them because he is too.

The orgasm blindsides me with its intensity and I collapse back against the wood, feeling like I still haven’t gotten nearly enough. He climbs on top of me and reaches for his zipper as his lips find mine.

“Ye’re so goddamn wet for me, sweetheart,” he grunts. “Tell me ye want me inside of you.”

“I do,” I agree. “I want you inside of me.”

A long slow groan leaves his throat and one of his hands is roaming over my body while he tries to undo his zipper with the other. I reach down to help him, brushing the swollen heat beneath the material.

“You feel that?” he rasps. “Feel how hard I am for ye, butterfly. Ye’re going to take care of that for me.”

“Yes. Please, Lachlan…”

And then everything just stops. I can barely hear over the music, but someone’s knocking at the door.

“Fack off!” Lachlan chucks one of the glasses at the door and it shatters on impact.

I grin up at his lunacy, grateful I’m not the only one being affected this way. Still, the knocking continues, and he looks murderous as he sits back on his haunches. I’m still staring at the bulge in his jeans, too delirious to comprehend what’s being said.

“What the bleeding hell is so goddamn important?” he yells.

“The Armenians…”

It’s the only thing I hear before the sound of gunfire erupts throughout the building. The next thing I know, Lachlan is pulling me off the desk and pushing me into the corner.

“Stay here.” He whips off his jacket and pulls a gun from the back of his jeans.

I’m staring at him in disbelief as screams erupt from the front of the building. I don’t know what’s happening, because all of the blood in my body has gone south. One minute he’s fucking me with his mouth and fingers, and the next someone’s shooting up the place. I’m frozen in horror, which isn’t something I can recall ever happening before.

“Mack?” Lachlan snaps his fingers. “Did ye hear me? Don’t move!”

I can barely nod. He gives me one last glance, hesitating before he leaves the room. It’s not the first time I’ve heard gunfire. I lived in a bad neighborhood. It was bound to happen from time to time. Also, my dad used to come home with the occasional stray bullet lodged into his flesh somewhere. I even watched one of his guys bleed out on the kitchen floor because he was too stubborn to go to the hospital. But Jesus, I didn’t expect to be right in the middle of it. I’ve got no fricken’ clue what’s happening here. I fight with my hands, not guns.

I cover my ears and squeeze my knees against my torso. An intense pressure builds in my chest as I sit here, feeling completely useless. I think about Lachlan, wondering what’s happening out there. He seems strong, invincible almost. I used to think that about my dad too. But he wasn’t invincible, and neither is Lachlan. On that note, neither am I.

The voices outside the door are getting closer. The gunshots, louder. I hear a thud, and I know it’s a body falling to the floor. Jesus. Shit. Fuck. Shit. I’m right in the middle of a hailstorm of bullets and I’m about to hyperventilate. If one of them comes into this room, they’ll see me right away.

I eye the small pocket beneath Lachlan’s desk and decide to scramble for it. When I’m about halfway there, the door splinters open and sends shards of wood flying. I make a strangled noise in my throat when I glance up and see two scary ass looking dudes with guns.

I half expect them to shoot me on sight, but they aren’t even looking at my face. It takes me a minute to realize why. I glance down and belatedly remember that Lachlan ripped my dress and my goddamn tits are hanging out.

One of the guys says something in what I’m guessing is Armenian and then laughs. The other nods in agreement and they take a step forward. Crap. This is not my finest moment, but I’m going to have to try to fend them off in my half-ripped spandex dress. But first, I’ll need to catch them off guard.

“Get up,” the man says with a heavy accent. “You come with us.”

Like hell I will. I stand up on shaky legs and hold up my hands as I step towards them. One of them grabs me by the hair and shoves me forward. I take a step and then freeze, slamming my head back into his nose as hard as I can.

He curses and the other guy is on top of me before I have a chance to get my bearings. He throws me to the floor and starts muttering angry words I don’t understand as he slaps me around a bit. My head is throbbing and I’m disoriented, but I know I need to think fast. I need to get a grip on this situation.

The man on top of me starts groping around my chest as he says something to the other guy who’s bleeding all over the place. I use his distraction to knee him in the nuts before I kick him hard in the chest. When he loses his balance, I scramble up on my feet and make a run for the door, only to be met by another hard wall of muscle.

Before I can make sense of what’s happening, Lachlan grips me around the waist and swivels me around. I hear a couple of loud pops and scream when I realize they are shooting at Lachlan. Not just shooting, but shot.

We both fall back against the wall and he manages to pull us out of view before we slide to the floor in a heap together.

“Jesus, Lachlan!” I scream. “You’re shot. You just took a fucking bullet for me…”

He’s bleeding all over the place and I’m freaking out. But there isn’t time to process anything because the guys inside the office start shooting off more rounds through the walls. Chunks of drywall and dust are flying everywhere as Lachlan pushes me behind him and tells me to stay low. He winces and gets down on his belly, crawling back towards the door.

“Lachlan!”

“Mack… shut up and stay down.”

He pokes his head around the bottom of the doorjamb and fires off a couple quick shots. I hear a grunt inside followed by a thud. More gunfire comes our way opposite of the wall, and Lachlan scrambles backward with a painful grimace.

I can’t tell exactly where he’s been shot, and I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be able to carry on with this. Where the hell are the rest of his men? There’s still gunfire coming from the front of the club, and there’s nowhere for us to go.

Something crashes inside the office, and before I even have time to blink, one of the guys is hurling himself on top of Lachlan. He doesn’t have his gun because half of his hand has been blown off from the looks of it. Lachlan tries to fire off a shot, but the guy knocks the gun out of his hand and sends it flying.

I reach out and grab it while they scuffle, and then stand up on shaky legs, pointing at the guy with the black eyes.

“Jaysus!” Lachlan yells up at me. “Don’t fecking fire that off now. Ye’re liable to finish me off.”

“Then get the fuck outta’ the way!” I scream.

Lachlan smashes his fist across the other guy’s face and it disorients him long enough for Lachlan to stand up.

“Give me the gun, sweetheart.” He holds out his hand, but I can’t move. I’m frozen. I don’t want this. I don’t want to see this guy die. Jesus. What have I gotten myself into?

“No.” My lip wobbles and I try to hide it by biting down.

“Give me the goddamn gun!” he yells.

I take a step back and shake my head. I need to think about this. I need to figure out another way. Surely, there must be another way.

Lachlan lunges at me and pries the gun out of my hands with surprising ease.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.”

I do. I close them because I can’t see it. But I hear it, and that’s just as bad. Two shots. And like a fucking idiot, I open my eyes and look at the holes in his head.

“Oh, God.”

I turn around and vomit all over the floor. Lachlan’s behind me, trying to pull me against him. Trying to comfort me.

“What the fuck?” I scream. “What the FUCK? You just killed him? You fucking killed him!”

He grabs me by the arms and whirls me around, slamming me up against the wall.

“You’d better cop on to yourself, sweetheart. Just keep your mouth shut until I can get you out of here, ye follow me?”

I fricken’ hate him. I hate him. I can’t believe he just did that in front of me. I can’t believe that Talia was involved in any of this, and now I know. I can feel it in my gut. She’s dead. She has to be. There’s no way she could survive in this world. I can’t even handle it, and I thought I could. But I’m just a big fat phony.

Liquid leaks out of my eyes, and I realize I’m frigging crying. How fucking embarrassing. Proud, tough Mack Wilder from Southie is balling like a little baby.

Lachlan grabs his jacket from the office and wraps it around me to cover me up before dragging me down the hall. The only positive is that the rest of the gunfire has ceased somewhere in the last two minutes as well. The place is dead quiet now, except for the sound of broken glass crunching beneath my heels.

A minute later, I see Sasha, and she runs up and pulls me into her arms. I let her hug me. And I fucking hate hugging. But it’s nice, for a second, at least. I need this right now.

Then Ronan and one of the other guys show up, and Lachlan’s barking out orders.

“Get them out of here,” he says.

Ronan grabs me and Sasha by the arm and drags us towards the front door. I don’t even protest. I’m too weak. Too tired. I don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore. Lachlan’s shot and I know he’s bleeding, and I’m worried about how bad it is. But then I just keep thinking about him shooting that guy. I can’t decide what I should do, but apparently it doesn’t really matter what I want to do.

We’re shoved into the backseat of a car and then there’s nothing but the sound of burning rubber as Ronan gets us out of dodge. Sasha is still crying, huddling on her side of the seat while I stare blankly at the streets before us.

I don’t know how long we drive for. I don’t even know where we are. It feels like forever. I just want to go back to my motel and take a long hot shower and drown myself in a bottle of tequila. But Ronan’s phone rings, and he mumbles a few quick words before banging a U-ie and turning around. In the complete opposite direction of where I need to be.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Ye’re going to stay with Lachlan.” He meets my eyes in the rear-view mirror. “He took a bullet for ye. I think the least ye can do is take care of him.”

Chapter Fourteen

Lachlan

“Where are the rest of the girls?” I ask.

Dom points across the room where a few of the other girls are shaking and crying hysterically. Jaysus. This is the last thing I needed. I’m bleeding all over the place and my shoulder hurts like a bitch. It’s not the first time I’ve been shot and I doubt it’ll be the last. Lucky this time it’s just a graze, I think.

The idea of this being another inside job is what hurts the most. I don’t take to betrayal lightly. One of the Russians has to be feeding the goddamn Armenians information.

I take mental inventory of everyone when I realize something.

“Where’s Mandy?”

“She said she felt sick and went home,” Rory answers.

Sick, my arse. She’s pouting because I wouldn’t have her.

I glance across the room at Sean, who’s barking out orders that don’t even make any bloody sense.

I bend down and grab the bloke who’s bleeding from a leg wound. Unfortunate for him that this particular wound won’t kill him straight away. He mutters something in Armenian before I slam the butt of my gun against his temple.

“Have ye anything to say yet?” I ask. “Or would ye rather enjoy some long company with the reaper? I give ye my word, you’ll like him even less than ye like me.”

“Fuck you,” he spits.

I slam his head against the floor and rise back up to my feet.

“Take him downstairs,” I tell Dom. “Ronan will be along to take care of it after.”

He nods and calls Conor over to help him. Conor is young and his heart is in the right place, but he’s got a long way to go yet. He’s gray in the face and I have some serious doubts about how much of this he can handle.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Detective James isn’t on call tonight.”

“Fucks sake, Conor. Do I have to do everything meself?”

He glances at the floor and then back to me. “Sorry, Crow. What should I do?”

My shoulder is killing me. I swear sometimes I need the patience of a goddamn saint to deal with this lad.

“Ah, what the fuck do ye think? I don’t care if he’s in the middle of his own wedding, ye get him down here now.”

“On it, boss.”

Right after he scuttles off, the boys in blue start to arrive. I head to the bar and grab a bottle of whiskey. It’ll have to do for now.

Chapter Fifteen

Mackenzie

When I thought about where Lachlan lived, I imagined Adam’s Village or maybe even Charlestown. Those would have been the obvious guesses. So when we pull up to a house in Beacon Hill, it throws me for a loop. It’s smart, if you think about it. The unsuspecting brick row house that borders Boston Common and the Public Garden could belong to any regular Joe. There’s even frigging rose bushes out the front.

“Is this like a safe house?” I ask.

Ronan purses his lips, but doesn’t answer. He’s obviously not real pleased to be bringing me here, and that’s answer enough. The murderous Lachlan Crow lives in a quaint little house that nobody would ever blink twice at. Go fucking figure, asshole.

“Sash?” I lean over and almost pat her on the shoulder before I snatch my hand back. I’m not good at this shit. “You… uh, want to grab my number in case you need anything?”

“Already got it.” She gives me a little nod. “Lachlan gave it to me in case I need to get a hold of you.”

“Okay, well… Ronan’s gonna’ take care of you. Isn’t that right, Ronan?”

He grunts and I shoot him a glare as I get out of the car and shut the door.

“I mean it.” I poke him in the chest. “You fucking take care of her.”

He glances at the car and pushes my hand away from him like he’s just been caught cheating or something. Fricken weirdo.

“You just worry about taking care of Lachlan,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah…”

I don’t get to finish because he shoves me inside the door and slams it behind me. I make it two steps inside before I freeze again at the sound of angry grunting.

“I don’t see anything in there.”

“Ye don’t know your fecking arse from your elbow ya bloody muppet. Give me the goddamn things.”

I hotfoot it into the parlor to find wounded men strewn about the place like furniture. They’re propped on sofas and kitchen chairs, several of the unwounded men trying to tend to their wounds. Lachlan is sitting in a recliner, bent forward, while another one of his men pokes around his shoulder wound. Now that I can see where it’s at, I know for certain he saved my life. It’s about level with where my head would be on his body. If he hadn’t spun me around…

I shudder, and rush over to his side.

“Jesus, Lachlan. You guys need to go to the hospital. What the hell are you idiots doing?”

The man that’s sitting in front of him stops to look up at me like I have a death wish for talking to Lachlan that way. Lachlan just grins.

“Your concern touches me, sweetheart,” he slurs. “Truly. Ye think you can do better than Conor? I’m liable to believe you can.”

Jesus, he’s half-drunk to boot. I snatch the bottle of whiskey out of his hand and take a swig of it myself.

“You.” I point at the kid doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. “You’re outta’ your mind. Get the hell off him, now.”

“Oh, thank God.” He hands me the tweezers and bolts to the garbage can to vomit. Frigging maniacs.

“Ye gonna’ patch me up?” Lachlan asks.

He’s got a stupid grin on his face like I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I want to slap it off him. Instead, I sit on the arm of the recliner and push him backwards so I can work. I sterilize the tweezers and clean some of the blood around the wound, and Lachlan reaches up to grab my wrist.

“Do ye really know what ye’re doing, sweetheart?”

“Do you think I can be any worse than this guy?” I gesture at Conor, who can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the blood but still looks like he’s going to faint at any moment.

“Go fix the guys some sandwiches,” I tell him. “They’ll need something to soak up all this alcohol.”

Lachlan laughs and Conor nods, walking back into the kitchen with a new purpose.

“Ye should tend to the lads first,” Lachlan grunts. “Mine’s just a graze.”

“I’m tending to you first,” I snap. “So sit back and relax. This is not going to be pleasant.”

Once I have the tools cleaned, I bring the bottle to his lips and let him take another swig. Then I go in. His shoulder is a mess, and the wound is right at the top of his bicep muscle. It’s still bleeding a lot, but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve seen it plenty of times before. Lachlan’s still watching me closely, like he can’t believe I’m really doing this. Every once in a while he grunts in pain, but he never tells me to stop. After a minute of poking around, I confirm he’s correct. No bullet, it’s just a graze. So I set to cleaning him and stitching him up.

“Where’d ye learn to do that, butterfly?”

“You know Doc Kilroy?” I ask.

Lachlan watches me, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and a flicker of curiosity. I suspect it’s the only thing keeping him awake.

“Aye, I knew him.”

His tone is one of respect, and for some reason, that makes me happy. Doc Kilroy used to help out with the aftermath of the fights in the underground. He died a couple years ago at an ancient age that I’ll probably never know. But the neighborhood just isn’t the same without him.

“He used to come over and patch up my dad and the crew he ran with,” I explain. “Got sick of the house calls at all hours of the night, so he taught me how to do it.”

That’s what I tell Lachlan, but the truth is I think Doc Kilroy saw the kind of guys my dad was getting involved with. He didn’t want to be anywhere near it. Can’t say I blame him.

After Lachlan is stitched and bandaged, I move to grab up my tools and tend to the other men. But he halts me by grabbing my hand and brushing his thumb over the back of my knuckles.

“Thank you, butterfly.”

“No biggie.” I clear my throat. “You should all probably get some antibiotics though.”

“Ronan’s on it,” he says. “Now, if ye don’t mind tending to my mates.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I assure him. “You get some rest.”

He nods and I slip away, but as I clean and patch up his men, he never takes his focus off of me. It isn’t suspicion this time, but something else in the depths of those gray eyes. Something that makes my belly flutter and my heart beat just a little bit faster.

When it’s all over, I head to the kitchen to see what Conor came up with. There’s a stack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches waiting on a plate, and he’s snoring like a baby propped against the refrigerator.

I grab the sandwiches and cut them into two triangles out of habit and get a sharp little pang in my chest when I remember why. Talia and I used to share sandwiches this way. She insisted they tasted better when they were cut diagonally instead of vertically. She was right, of course.

I close my eyes and get a grip before taking the plate out and passing them around. The guys take them eagerly and chow down while I take the last one and head for Lachlan. I pause halfway and wiggle it in his direction in question.

“Come here to me,” he says.

I take a step closer, and he pries the plate from my hands and sets it on the table beside him. Then he reaches up and grabs me around the waist and tugs me straight into his lap. I can smell the whiskey on his breath, along with the scent that’s uniquely his. How he can still smell good after bleeding all over the place and taking part in a gun fight, I’ll never know.

“Do we need to talk about tonight?” he asks.

Despite his half-drunken state, he’s got a clear enough head to initiate this conversation. His expression is serious, appraising, and I have no doubts he’ll remember every word I say come tomorrow. I stare down at my heels and kick them off, wiggling my toes as I think about my answer. Logic tells me there’s only one thing I can really say. I know what Lachlan’s capable of. I knew it before I ever got involved with all of this. I’m not going to change that, and neither is anything I say. So for my self-preservation, and to build trust, I tell him the only thing I can.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Crow. What happened tonight?”

He grips me by the chin and gives me a drunken lopsided grin. “Ye’re a clever girl, Mack. I like that about you.”

“Yeah, well can’t say I’m surprised,” I mutter. “Most of the chicks you bang probably don’t have two brain cells to rub together. You like to get in and out, am I right?”

A dark look passes over his face and the arm that’s wrapped around my waist pulls me a little tighter. “Ye know this changes things, butterfly.”

I look away, knowing he’s right. I saw something tonight that I wasn’t supposed to. Something that makes Lachlan vulnerable. And there’s a whole philosophy about that with organized crime syndicates. The philosophy is that the vulnerability always disappears.

“What do you want me to say, Lach?”

“I need to know I can trust ye, sweetheart. That’s all.”

There’s something different in his voice. More urgent. He doesn’t want to have to hurt me. I look into his eyes and steel myself. Lying shouldn’t be a problem for me. I’m here for Talia. That’s the only reason.

But it’s more complicated than that and it shouldn’t be. I’m getting too wrapped up in this. Lachlan is nobody to me. It shouldn’t matter if I betray his trust. He means nothing to me, and he’d do the same to me in a heartbeat if necessary. So why can’t I just lie and tell him that yes, he can trust me?

I change the subject instead.

“They wanted me to come with them tonight.”

Lachlan looks at me and shakes his head, like that wasn’t even a possibility.

“That’d never happen, Mack.”

“But they deal in women, right?” I press. “What would they have done with me?”

His hand moves up my back and rubs soft circles against my dress. A gesture of comfort. He thinks I’m asking because I’m scared. I’ll let him think that. But a part of me is wondering if something like this happened with Tal.

“This particular gang deals in whatever they can get their greedy hands on and turn a profit,” he says. “They don’t care what it is. They aren’t sanctioned or governed like we are. There are no rules with this lot.”

He sighs and his fingers roam over my arms.

“Ye’re from here, so you understand,” he says. “How territories are divided. Correct?”

“Yes,” I answer.

“Ye’re from Southie. Ye’re proud of that. Ye take ownership of it. It’s the same for us, sweetheart. With our territories and our women.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“Ye didn’t like what you saw tonight,” he goes on. “But it was necessary, Mack. Ye need to understand that. If ye don’t put guys like that down, do ye know what they do?”

I know. I know perfectly well. It was just the shock of it, really. But Lachlan takes my silence for ignorance and explains anyway.

“They come back with more guys. Any guys they can find. These lads aren’t like us. They don’t care about women or children or who gets in their way, really. They saw your face. And that puts ye at risk.”

I blink up at him, curious about what he’s saying. Surely he doesn’t mean he killed that guy for me.

“I told ye that ye’re under my protection,” he says. “I won’t risk your life, or my brothers either, Mack. Do ye understand?”

I nod and then watch him carefully as I ask my next question.

“Have they ever taken one of the girls before?”

“No.” His voice leaves no question about it. “Everybody knows ye don’t touch our women. Or the Italians, or even the Russians for that matter. Those fuckwits are the only ones dumb enough to think they can pull it off and they’ve just waged a war because of it. They’ll all be dead soon enough.”

I hold up my hands and cringe. “I don’t want to know the details.”

“Ye won’t.” He closes his eyes and his head lolls to the side in exhaustion. “Ye know too much already.”

I think about getting up, but Lachlan tightens his grip on me. He slips off into oblivion, and I know this is an opportunity for me to search his house. But I’m so tired. Physically and mentally drained. And he’s warm and I’m kind of comfortable where I’m at. I know I shouldn’t. But I curl up and rest my head against his chest, letting sleep take me away too.

***

When I wake up the next morning, I’m alone in the recliner. The shower is running down the hall, and I know Lachlan isn’t too far away.

I stumble into the kitchen and nearly have a frigging heart attack when I find Ronan sitting there. He’s at the table, reading from the paper without a single care in the world. As though nothing even happened last night, and this is just another normal morning for him. Who am I kidding? It probably is.

“How’s Sash?” I ask as I rummage through Lach’s bare cupboards. I’ve got a wicked bad headache, and the man doesn’t even have fricken’ coffee.

“She’s fine,” Ronan reports dryly.

“Ugh,” I groan and rub my temples. I know I saw a Dunkies around the corner last night at least. “I need some coffee. You wanna’ give me a lift?”

He glances up at me and rolls his eyes. God love the grouchy bastard.

“I’ll go alone.” He stands up. “What do ye want?”

“Two regulars and a couple of maple cremes. Some apple sticks, too.”

Ronan makes for the door before I think of something else. “Oh, and some cheese danishes.”

He grunts in annoyance and I call out after him. “We really do need to get you a bell, Ronan. It would be so much more convenient.”

The door slams and I snicker.

Lachlan walks down the hall a few minutes later, and God help me he’s wearing nothing but a pair of black briefs. His hair is still wet, and there are little drops of water dripping down onto his chest. He was covered in blood last night and I obviously wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be checking him out. But this morning’s a different story. Just as I figured, the man is jacked as all get out. He’s got a nice frigging body.

His chest and bicep have a few tattoos I didn’t even notice last night. There’s a Celtic design of sorts along with a few Gaelic words from the looks of it. I have no clue what they mean but I highly suspect it has some sort of symbolism for his syndicate.

“Morning, butterfly.” He walks over and strokes my face beneath his fingers. His touch is gentle, his eyes tender… and I can’t help noticing something has shifted between us.

I run my fingers over his bandage and he winces. “How’s it feeling this morning?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” he says wryly. “But it’ll be feeling grand tonight.” He leans down and nips at my ear. “When I’m buried deep inside of you.”

I look up and give him a nervous smile. How could I forget what we started last night? Of course he’s going to want to finish it.

“Feeling shy, sweetheart?” his fingers skim down my throat, making me shiver.

“Not at all,” I lie.

He bends down and his lips brush over mine, turning me into mush in his arms. I don’t know how he does that. I kiss him back, because… I don’t really know, actually. I have no idea if it’s because it’s a good strategy or I actually want to.

When the front door slams and Ronan’s shoes clip across the floor, I break away gratefully. There’s no way I can figure out all the answers to these questions inside my brain without caffeine in my blood stream.

I skip across the kitchen and plant a giant wet kiss on Ronan’s cheek as I tear the bag of donuts from his hand. He stumbles back in disbelief and then shoots Lachlan a worried glance.

“What?” I ask innocently.

Ronan shoves the coffees onto the counter and puts as much distance between us as he can manage in the small kitchen. He’s looking at me like I might try to fling myself at him again any moment. I roll my eyes and then turn to find Lachlan scowling at me as he tugs me back.

“Mackenzie,” he whispers threateningly in my ear. His grip on me is so tight I can hardly breathe. Sheesh, he looks like he wants to murder me.

“Crow.” I smile up at him. “It was just an innocent little kiss on the cheek. I take my Dunkie’s very seriously, you know.”

His hand finds its way to my throat, and he looks really pissed. “Don’t ever touch one of the lads like that again. Especially not Ronan if you know what’s good for you.”

What’s the big frigging deal? I glance at Ronan, and something passes between them. I’m getting the gist that Ronan doesn’t like to be touched. These two are oddly protective of each other, but unsurprisingly very tight lipped about it.

“Fine.” I shove away from Lachlan. “I won’t touch poor little Ronan again. And as for your orders… I belong to nobody, Lachlan Crow. You’d do well to remember that.”

“You think ye can just walk away from me?” he asks. “Ye came and planted your arse right on my cock in the middle of the club, if I’m not mistaken. And then demanded, while my fingers were deep inside ye I might add, that I not fuck around with Mandy. Even if ye hadn’t seen what ye did last night, you were never walking away from me after that, sweetheart. Don’t mistake those words for empty threats.”

Ronan clears his throat behind us and I jerk my gaze to his in embarrassment. I honestly forgot he was there for a second. And he’s staring at Lachlan like they need to have a serious talk themselves. When I glance back at Lach, he’s looking at me like he isn’t quite certain where all of that just came from either.

He grabs his coffee off the counter and jerks his head towards Ronan.

“I’ve got Armenians to deal with,” he says. “You’ll be staying put today, Mack.”

He turns around and walks back down the hall, giving me a nice view of his fine ass as he goes. Of course, Ronan catches me staring and shakes his head. Bastard.

Chapter Sixteen

Lachlan

Between dealing with the mess at the club and trying to track the Armenians movements, my morning’s been nothing but complete shite.

When I catch a glimpse of Ivan Malikoff walking through the rubble, it’s the cherry on top. Donovan is at his side, giving me an apologetic half-arsed shrug.

“I told him you were busy,” Donny says. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

I hold my hand up to let him know to back off and jerk my head towards my office. Ivan follows me down the hall, his cold blue eyes taking in everything with a smirk on his face. Fucking prick.

Ivan’s all bollocks and no brains. He’s been loafed in the head a few too many times to count, and all he’s really good for at this stage is muscle. I’d venture a guess that the circus would be better suited to him than the Russian mafia.

I take up a seat on my blood spattered desk and cross my arms.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Ivan?”

A grunt comes out of his barrel-shaped chest as he stabs a meaty finger in my direction.

“Alexei tells me you are protecting the girl.”

Fucks sake. These guys and this fucking girl.

“Ye didn’t need to come all the way down here to confirm that. I would’ve told ye over the phone.”

His buzzed head rattles sideways in disgust.

“She is a liability,” he spits.

“Not to me, she isn’t.” I meet his gaze. “But I didn’t do her father in, either.”

His nostrils flare and I’m surprised there isn’t steam coming out of them. This bloke reminds me of a much bigger and dumber version of Donovan. No telling how many bodies he’s had to put in the ground to cover up his hot-headed agenda.

“She tell you this?” Ivan asks.

“Nah,” I reply. “Saw the police report. Ye left your fucking brand right on his forehead for the world to see, champ. If ye go down for this, it’s because of your own genius, not the girl.”

He curses at me in Russian, calling me a filthy dog. Probably doesn’t have a clue I know exactly what he’s saying. I don’t like this prick. Part of me hates him on Mack’s behalf. It was his temper that set into motion the events that molded her into the person she is. The girl who had to fend for herself on the streets at the age of thirteen. All because this cockhead couldn’t handle his ego.

“I want her dead,” Ivan says.

The muscles in my body burn with a rage I’m not wholly accustomed to. I’ve half a notion to pummel Ivan into the bloody floor and add to the mess. I feel protective of Mack. Too much so. I need to cop on to myself and remember the big picture here.

“It’s not up to you.”

He glances at me and shrugs. “How much will it take?”

“Nothing. It’s non-negotiable.”

He doesn’t blink. Or move. His eyes are dull and he isn’t listening to a goddamn thing I’m saying. I doubt very much he’ll back down on this. If Viktor knew he was here, he’d have his nuts. But Ivan knows I won’t rat him out.

“Tell me why ye want her dead,” I insist. “She saw nothing. Knows nothing. So why?”

He shrugs. And there it is. It’s the principle for him. Mack is the reminder of the father who beat him in the ring. The one he could never measure up to. Watching her fight triggered his ego.

“Ye need to let it go, Ivan,” I warn him. “For the sake of the alliance. The girl is under my protection now, and nothing ye say will change that.”

His eyes pinch together and his arms set to twitching. He’d like to off me too, no doubt. If it were any other day, he might’ve even considered trying. I’d be glad to tell him the feeling’s mutual. Ending this prick for Mack would bring me nothing but warm fuzzies in my chest. But with the way things are right now I can’t.

He legs it towards the door, but pauses to look back at me.

“Consider it forgotten,” he says. “But you should keep a close eye on this girl. At least with me, her death would be swift. I can’t promise the same for the others.”

Chapter Seventeen

Mackenzie

Having Ronan around to babysit me all day meant that I couldn’t check out Lachlan’s house like I wanted to.

Doesn’t really matter though. I highly doubt he has anything here. The place is pretty sparsely decorated, with only the basics. The few things I did get a chance to look through- his bedroom and his medicine cabinet- held nothing of importance.

So instead I use every one of the nine hours that Lachlan is gone to annoy the hell out of Ronan. I can tell he wants to be here just about as much as I want him here. He’s a soldier, I think, but he’s by no means the lowest on the totem pole, I know that much. Lachlan wants him with me for a reason. He trusts him not to touch me, and also, probably, to protect me. However, it’s obvious by the permanent scowl on his face when he’s around me that he thinks his services could be put to much better use. He’d rather be out there on the front lines, protecting Lachlan I’m sure. It’s typical of the men in this sort of mafia organization to have a brotherly bond, but I suspect that Ronan and Lachlan’s runs deeper. That’s something I’d like to investigate further, but I doubt he’s going to give much up. He’s too smart for that.

I grill him with questions, most of which he doesn’t answer, and then I try to get him to run me to the store. The only way to liven this party up is with some booze. He mutters something about not going anywhere while the Armenians are on the loose and then goes back to reading.

On a whim, I ask him a silly question to try to get a rise out of him. But I’m surprised by his response.

“So what do you think of Sasha?”

His brows shoot up and he glances at me like I’ve just uncovered one of his dirty little secrets. Hm, what an interesting development this is. He adjusts his collar as though he’s suddenly getting hot, and the slightest tinge of pink creeps over his cheeks. Whooda thunk that the cranky Irishman has a thing for one of the dancers?

“She’s pretty, huh?” I push.

He shrugs. “I guess. As pretty as the rest of them.”

“She’s wicked flexible too,” I egg him on. “Have you seen her on stage? Holy shit, that girl’s gotta’ be a freak in the bedroom.”

“I wouldn’t know.” He slams the book in his hands shut and walks over to the window.

I know I’ve struck a nerve and I’m on thin ice probably, but I see an opportunity here. One that might help Sasha without betraying her trust.

“It’s just too bad,” I say, picking at my nail absently.

I wait a couple breaths for Ronan to take the bait, and surprisingly, he does.

“What is?”

“That Donovan is all up in her business all the time. He’s such a fricken’ creep.”

“Is he bothering her?” Ronan asks and then clears his throat like he shouldn’t have.

“I don’t know for sure,” I lie. “But it looks that way to me. He’s always following her around and trying to get her into dark corners if you know what I mean.”

Ronan visibly flinches from my observation as he stares out the window.

“Maybe I should call her,” I hedge. “See if she wants to come over. She might need some company…”

“No,” Ronan snaps.

“Alrighty then,” I smirk.

He turns around and shoots me a deadly scowl. “Ye open your gob about this to anyone and ye can forget anymore donut runs.”

“Ah, well played Ronan,” I chuckle. “Well played.”

***

Just after midnight, the front door slams open while I’m sitting on the sofa painting my nails. I’ve been bored out of my mind and Ronan’s broody company has done little to improve that. I glance up to find Lachlan standing in the kitchen. He looks at Ronan and then to me, some kind of dark and scary energy rolling off of him. It’s not an expression I’m familiar with on him.

I know that Lach’s a dangerous man. I’m aware of the sort of things he deals in. And yet, he’s always been a little bit mysterious… quiet… ominous, but in a calm way. I’ve seen a few different sides of him so far, but never anything like this. I don’t miss the fact that his jacket is gone and his shirt is covered in blood. Over it he’s wearing a shoulder holster that I’ve never seen him wear, and something tells me he put that to a lot of use tonight.

Before I even get a chance to say something, he stalks down the hall and into the bathroom. The pipes in the house creak when he turns on the shower, and I bite my lip as I shoot Ronan a questioning glance. Of course, he just ignores me, but the tension in his own body is obvious.

I tiptoe down the hall and lean against the bathroom door. I have the strangest urge to… I don’t know, comfort Lachlan. It’s a very foreign feeling for me, I’ll tell you that much. I don’t deal with this kind of shit. The only people’s feelings that ever mattered to me were Talia and Scarlett. That’s how my dad raised me, and even then, he probably wouldn’t have approved of our close bond. He always said friends are nice, but they’re also a weakness. How right he was.

So why do I feel bad that Lachlan’s had a rough night? Beats the hell out of me.

I press my ear to the door and hear nothing but the flow of water. Steam is billowing out from beneath the crack, and I can almost imagine Lachlan in there beneath the scalding hot spray. I want to know what he’s feeling right now. Does he have those pesky emotions that I hate so much? Beneath his mobster exterior, is there still a conscience? I want to go to him, and I hate that. What the hell would I do?

I reach down and stroke my fingers over my necklace, trying to remember the reason why I’m here. I feel like I’m betraying Talia for even considering any of these thoughts. I’m no closer to finding her than I was when I started all of this. And now I’m sitting here, actually questioning my feelings for Lachlan.

I groan and press my forehead to the door, only to be scared a moment later when I catch someone standing beside me.

“Jesus, Ronan,” I hiss. “Make a noise, will you?”

He shrugs. “Force a’ habit. You best leave him be for a while.”

I glance at the door and back to him. “Why?”

“He’s not in a good place right now, Mack. We lost one of our own tonight.”

“Who?” I ask.

“His name was Johnny. The lad was just a kid.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. “What happened?”

“They got him when he was leaving the pub,” Ronan says. “He didn’t have a fighting chance.”

I try to force away the sympathy I feel, knowing I probably shouldn’t. But it’s still hard to think about. Looking at Ronan, and seeing how torn up Lachlan was, it’s obvious these guys do care about each other. Just like Tal and I did. I understand that bond. I get it, and that’s the worst part. It makes me relate to them on some level. It makes them a little bit more human to me, which I don’t want or need.

Ronan’s right. The best thing I can do… for Lachlan and myself… is to leave him alone. I give the door one last glance and nod before I walk back down the hall. He’s probably right. And it saves me from having to think about any of this.

***

By one am, Ronan is passed out in his chair and I’m biting my fingernails. Lach still hasn’t made an appearance. And I know what Ronan said, but I’ve never been very good at following orders.

I decide I’m just going to check on him to sate my curiosity. That’s all.

I wander down the hall and push open the cracked door to his bedroom. I find him in a chair in the corner, bottle of whiskey and a first aid kit on the table beside him. He’s leaning forward, head in hands, in nothing but a pair of jeans. For a moment, I just remain still to take in his profile.

He really is beautiful. The darkness surrounding him and the obvious emotion on his face only makes him more so. I never wanted to see him as a person, but looking at him like this now, it’s impossible not to.

I take a tentative step forward and the floor creaks. He glances up. His shoulder wound is bleeding again, and he has a new cut on his opposite arm. He doesn’t even seem to notice.

I walk towards him and grab the first aid kit and find a needle. I take a shot of whiskey for myself before sitting down on his lap to clean his wounds. There isn’t a word spoken between us. He lets me mend him, and I go about it carefully, making sure I do a good job. I don’t like seeing his pain. I don’t like seeing anyone’s pain. Most people don’t know that about me. I pretend shit doesn’t bother me, but it does. Right now, seeing him like this, it fucking bothers me.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him softly as I put a fresh bandage over his shoulder and move on to the other cut.

“Ye don’t need to do that,” he says.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

“Ye look grand in my clothes,” he rasps.

I force a smile but don’t reply. I raided his drawers today since Ronan refused to go get my shit. I’m wearing one of his tee shirts and a pair of sweat pants I had to roll down at the waist.

He reaches up and grabs my chin, and I reluctantly bring my gaze to his. I haven’t been making eye contact with him, and he notices. He notices how uncomfortable I am with his discomfort. He watches me for a long moment, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine. I want to know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t say. He brushes his fingers across my jaw and my eyes flutter shut. How can such a simple touch make me feel so much? My body responds to him, but even worse, so does my mind. I don’t even think he’s doing it on purpose. It’s just the cause and effect of being near him.

His body is tight and tense beneath me, and I want to take that away. For a few minutes, I try to block out everything else. All of the questions and the guilt and the games I’m playing. I set the kit aside and do what feels right.

I kneel down before him and drag my fingers up his thighs. I’ve never done this before, but Scarlett and I have talked about it. She even jokingly showed me once on a banana.

This is different. Lachlan is one hundred percent male. He’s been with a lot of women, I’m sure. Most of whom could probably do this way better. I don’t want to think about that. I’ve got a whole swarm of butterflies in my belly right now and I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore. But I know one thing, and it’s that I want to please him.

I inch my fingers toward his groin and cup him through his jeans. His eyes darken, and almost immediately, I feel him harden beneath me. Encouraged, I start to rub him through the material. He’s hung as all get out, I know that much.

A ravenous hunger takes over my body as I watch the way I affect him. How his eyes are heavy with lust and every breath he draws is more ragged than the last. He’s acutely aware of my every movement, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from his. They are savagely beautiful right now in the depths of their melancholy need.

I reach for his belt and unbuckle it before pulling down his zipper. The sight of his bulge beneath soft cotton briefs makes my own breath hitch. I try to remember everything Scarlett told me about this. She said it’s about the slow burn. The anticipation. I want to give that to Lach. I want to take all of his pain from him.

I lean forward and rub my cheek against the fabric, and he twitches beneath me. Intense heat burns beneath my skin as I nuzzle closer, dragging my nose along and inhaling him. He smells so fucking good, even this part of his body. It’s the same scent I’ve become accustomed to, but also a little musky too.

His hand comes down to tangle with the long strands of my hair, stroking it as I kiss my way along his cloth covered length. Already, he’s making these pained little noises in his throat and I know I’m doing something right. At the top of the fabric, a tiny wet spot has seeped through from his arousal. Letting my baser desires take control of the situation, I lick and then suck that fabric into my mouth.

Lachlan groans, and his grip on my hair tightens. He grinds his hips up against my face and then yanks his briefs down. Jesus, he’s fricken huge. His cock is so swollen and plump it looks painful. I peek up at him from beneath my lashes.

“Suck on it, sweetheart.”

His voice is rough with emotion, betraying how much he really needs this. It does something to me. I want to give it to him just as badly.  Unsure where to begin, my hand wraps around the base and strokes him up and down twice. The skin is like velvet, smooth and soft and hot beneath my palm. I bring the head to my lips and dart my tongue out to swirl it around the tip.

He jerks beneath my touch and it encourages me. I continue to stroke him with the hand that’s wrapped around his shaft as I softly pull him into my mouth. This isn’t so bad. He tastes… good, actually. When I look up at him, Lachlan’s struggling to keep his eyes open, and he’s groaning almost every time I suck on him.

I’m soaking wet from the sight of him like this. He’s fucking gorgeous, this man. Brutally and devastatingly handsome, and right now… he’s mine. He’s dark and mysterious and bad for me in every way, but it only seems to draw me in further. I want him. I want him so fucking much it scares me. But I can’t let myself go that far. Not yet.

So I settle for moving one of my hands down between my legs. Lach grunts out his approval but then pauses.

“Lose the shirt as well,” he orders.

I swallow around him and then pull back to whip the shirt over my head. Next come the sweatpants. At least I’ve got a nice lace bra on. I can already tell he likes it by the way his eyes are darkening.

“Ah Christ,” he says. “I love looking at those fucking tits of yours. So goddamn beautiful, ye are Mack. Now put your mouth back on me.”

I do. I suck him a little deeper this time, and he groans. My fingers are moving furiously inside the briefs I’m wearing, and his eyes are glued to them like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“Harder,” he encourages. “Ye aren’t going to hurt me.”

I suck him harder, squeezing him with my fist. His hands are in my hair again, tangling through it as he loses his self-control. He’s completely guiding my movements now, pistoning his hips up into my mouth and taking what he wants from me. Something that would normally piss me off, but with Lachlan it’s hot. I’d never admit it to him, but I like letting him control me this way. I like this big, bad man bossing me around and telling me what to do and how to do it.

He’s getting close now. I can feel it in the way his body is tightening, his breath is stuttering, and the sexy noises he makes are getting louder. His grip is so tight on my hair it’s almost painful, but he doesn’t even realize it. He’s completely lost to the sensations. Lost to me.

“Show me those baby blues,” he grunts. “C’mon, Mack. Look up at me, sweetheart.”

I look up at him and he jerks into my mouth with a roar. The flood of come is unexpected, and yet I’m prepared for it. I swallow it all, and at the same time find my own release as I moan around him. When it’s all over, he pulls away and strokes my hair.

“Jaysus, Mack.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and I just smile up at him. The tension is gone from his body, and I know it’s because of me. My heart is doing that weird thing in my chest again. He’s looking at me like he can’t believe I’m real. And I don’t know why it affects me so much, but it does.

But, like me, Lachlan is hiding his own apprehension. The warmth of the moment doesn’t last long for either of us.

“You should be asleep,” he says when his breathing has calmed.

“That makes two of us,” I quip.

“Men like me don’t have that luxury. Ye should know that.”

I rest my chin on his thigh while I reach for his hand. An instinctive gesture, and once I have it, I’m not sure what to do with it. I start drawing little circles on his palm while I look up at him.

“So what do men like you do?”

“What kind of things did your father do?” he asks.

My grip on him tightens reflexively. “I don’t want to talk about him. It wasn’t the same.”

“Because he was good, and I’m not?” Lach supplies.

I shake my head. “That wasn’t what I meant.” I don’t know what I meant.

I know my father wasn’t perfect. But he’s gone now. And I only want to remember the good things.

“He brought ye into the middle of it,” Lachlan says softly. “Ye never stood a chance, sweetheart. He should have protected ye.”

Tears sting my eyes as I snatch my hand back. “You’re no different. No better. You guys get married and have kids too, right? Bring them into this life. How’s it any different?”

“Aye, we do,” he says unapologetically. “But we also protect them, with our lives if need be. No child of mine would ever be left to fend for themselves. Nor my wife, either, for that matter.”

I don’t know why he’s even bringing any of this up. His voice is tender, but his words are pissing me off.

“It’s not the same thing,” I repeat. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, Lachlan.”

“I’m trying to.” He pulls my hand back into his and links our fingers together. “I’m trying to understand ye, Mack.”

“Well, don’t,” I huff. “Unless you’re willing to divulge some things about yourself too.”

“What would ye like to know?”

There isn’t a bit of humor in his voice. He’s being open and honest with me, and I feel like it might be my only chance to ask him questions and get some real answers. I go for it with gusto.

“What kind of things does your outfit deal in exactly?”

He blinks at me and scrubs a hand over his face. “Ye know better than to ask something like that.”

“I do.” I shrug. “But I also know that I’ll be a dead woman anyway if I ever talk, so what’s the harm in telling me this one small thing? I want to know what I’m getting myself into.”

“Ye want the truth?” he asks.

I nod.

“Ye’re fucked, sweetheart. Ye’re never walking away from this. You’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life if you try.”

I tighten my grip on his hand and search his eyes. His words aren’t threatening or filled with malice, just an honest truth. After what I saw last night, I knew there was no walking away. But I’m not certain that’s what he means.

“From you or them?” I clarify.

“We’re one and the same.”

“I don’t buy that,” I tell him.

He sighs, and his hand comes back to my face, his fingers brushing over my skin while he seems to come to some sort of conclusion in his own mind.

“I can’t let ye go, Mack,” he says. “The reasons don’t matter, so it’s better ye just accept it now.”

“So what will you do with me?”

He considers me for a moment, and I could almost swear I get a glimpse of guilt hidden in the gray of his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says finally. “We’ll sort that out later.”

He’s being very vague. Despite the intimate moment we just shared, it’s clear he still doesn’t trust me. I don’t blame him, but I’m going to need him to relax a little if I want to carry on with my mission. I have to wonder if he treats all women this way. Like at any moment they could turn around and stab him in the back. It must be exhausting.

“So are you keeping me around because you want to, or because you have to?” I ask.

“Make no bones about it.” He leans forward and captures my face in his hands. “I want to.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t say.” He shrugs. “Ye’re trouble. A wild card, Mack. But maybe I like having ye here.”

“Until you tire of me,” I add. “And then you’ll take someone on the side. Right? That’s how it works.”

I don’t know why I’m asking these things. They aren’t even important. They don’t matter. Still, I want to know.

“I can keep my cock in me pants,” he says. “And I often do until a pretty little ride like you comes along and takes it out for me.”

I scowl up at him, and he reaches down and grabs me. A moment later, I’m deposited on his lap, his arms wrapped tight around my waist.

“Mack.” He grabs the base of my neck with his fingers and rubs the skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’d have no need or want for anything else if you were lying in my bed every night.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I grumble.

“I like that ye’re possessive of me,” he says. “That turns me on, sweetheart. Because I already feel possessive as hell of you.”

Silence falls between us, and then I hear him whisper, “but I shouldn’t.”

I lean back against him and close my eyes. I know the feeling well.

“I still need to know more about you,” I tell him.

“Well, carry on then. I never told ye to stop.”

“How did you come to be in this life?”

“My father was born into it, and by birth I had rights to it as well. But my grand-da was the one to induct me.”

“When do I get to meet him?” I ask.

His hands tighten around me and his entire body goes rigid.

“Ouch,” I hiss.

“He’s dead,” he clips out. “Don’t bring it up again.”

“Sheesh, alright.”

He relaxes, and I think the time for talking has abruptly come to an end. But Lachlan surprises me when he explains a few minutes later.

“He died very recently,” he says. “And my father, when I was ten. Didn’t know much about him. He just knocked me mum up when he was back home for a visit. Sent money to keep her afloat, but this was where his life was at. My grand-da took care of me when I came here. And now Niall and the lads are my family. That’s all ye need to know about that.”

“What about your mom?”

“Dead too,” he says. “She went when I was sixteen.”

I nuzzle into the crook of his neck, and for the first time in a long time I feel something familiar between someone else other than Talia and Scarlett. This is the thing that links us. He’s an orphan too. And, like me, he did what he had to in order to survive.

I catch sight of the medal hanging against his chest, and my fingers move up to touch it.

“Saint Anthony,” I murmur.

He doesn’t reply. This medal holds some sort of significance to him. Just like the heart-shaped pendant hanging around my neck. I’m not a Catholic, but my father was, and I know enough to know exactly what this particular saint means.

“Are you worried about your soul?” I ask him.

“It depends on the day,” he answers vaguely. “Sometimes the minute. But how much time can a man in my line of work spend worrying about these things?”

He’s teasing me, using humor to deflect my question. But beneath that veneer, I can see the truth. He does worry about these things. Worries about staying human. Good and evil. His darkness.

Telling myself it’s under the pretense of softening him to my purpose, I continue to question him.

“So what does a man like Lachlan Crow want?”

He looks down at me and smiles. “Why don’t you tell me, sweetheart.”

I continue to rub circles on his palm, deciding to be honest in my observation.

“You want to please Niall. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say that you want to continue his legacy. Move up in the organization. Eventually, maybe even be King of all?”

His fingers wrap around mine and squeeze. I’ve hit too close to home. His eyes are hard, glittering with suspicion again.

“Ye’re too observant for your own good,” he says. “It would be better for you if ye didn’t let onto these things, butterfly.”

“Probably,” I agree.

I refuse to let the conversation die though. I want to get answers from him while he’s willing to give them. I suspect it doesn’t happen often.

“So what kind of things do you do besides running the club?”

“I can’t tell ye that, Mack,” he says. “Even if you were my wife, ye wouldn’t know these things. It’s for your own protection.”

Wife? I clear my throat and stare at his chest, tracing my fingers over the lines of his tattoos.

“Just tell me one thing then.”

“What?”

“Do you or have you ever, dealt in trafficking women?”

“No,” he answers firmly. “Never. And we never will.”

When I look up into his eyes, I believe him. And I don’t know why. I can’t believe him. I have to be objective here. To see things logically. No matter how many conflicting feelings I have about this man, the truth is simple. Talia worked for him, and now she’s gone. There’s an explanation behind that, regardless of what he says to me. Maybe he doesn’t know it, maybe he does. Either way, I can’t trust him. Lachlan Crow is only loyal to one thing, and that is his syndicate.

“Hop up.” He pats me on the ass. “Let’s try to get some sleep. I have another long day tomorrow.”

“Still dealing with the Armenians?”

He nods and leads me to the bed. I hesitate for only a moment before climbing in beside him with a sigh. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore.

Chapter Eighteen

Mackenzie

“When do I get to go back to work?” I ask.

Lachlan glances up from his breakfast. “Ye don’t.”

“What do you mean I don’t?”

Him and Ronan exchange glances. “Told ye, sweetheart. Things are going to change. The only lad you’ll be dancing for from now on is me.”

“Like hell.” I start to have a mini panic attack at the prospect. “You aren’t taking my job away from me!”

Lachlan leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head as he observes me. “Ye should’ve thought about that before ye came to my room last night. Remember who ye’re talking to, butterfly.”

I cross my arms in stubborn refusal. “I’m not leaving the club.”

“If I say you are, then aye, you fucking are.”

“Or I could just walk out the door right now,” I threaten.

He laughs, and so does Ronan. “You’d have the Armenians up your arse in two minutes, sweetheart. Do ye honestly think I’d allow that to happen? I told ye I’d protect you, and I meant it. Even if that means I have to handcuff ye to my bed, which I’m not opposed to by the way.”

Shit. This is not happening how I planned it. He’s right about the Armenians. But I’m not here to play house with Lachlan. I’m here to get information. So I attempt to be sweet though it’s totally not in my nature.

“Look, Lachlan,” I say calmly. “I really don’t want to be the little woman you stash away in your house while you’re out all day doing God knows what. I can’t just sit around and wait for you, I’ll go outta my fricken mind. You promised me a job, you can’t just take that away. Let me do something else if you don’t want me to dance. I can do your books, cocktails, whatever. My talents are endless, really.”

He gives me a coy little smirk, and I know he’s thinking about last night. As a bonus, it seems like he’s actually considering my words, so I throw a cherry on top.

“Besides, I don’t want you there without me. Mandy thinks she’s gonna’ get her claws into you and she’s got another thing coming.”

Now he’s giving me one of those boyish grins of his. Go figure. Ronan, however, is even more suspicious of me than ever judging by the scowl on his face.

“I’ll tell ye what, sweetheart,” Lach says. “You can keep working at the club for a few hours a night. I’ll find ye something to do. But what I say goes.”

“Of course.” I flash him a victorious smile. “Whatever you say, Lachlan.”

Ronan rolls his eyes and grunts. When Lachlan goes back to eating, I stick my tongue out at him and grin. I always get what I want.

***

Lachlan

When I get back to my place, I only have time for a change of clothes before I have to set off again. Turns out it doesn’t matter since the girl’s asleep. In my bed, no less. I move to the edge and watch her for a bit. In her sleep, she looks even younger and more vulnerable than I already know her to be.

She fancies herself a tough nut. Thinks she can handle my world and anything I throw at her. I’d have to disagree. I’ve seen this life bring full grown blokes to their knees before. A girl like her should be in college, messing around with guys who play football and act tough in pubs on the weekend. Not lads who look over their shoulders at every turn and question who is gunning for them this week.

I’ve no choice now. She’s in it, like it or not. It’s either that, or buried six feet under. That option’s got some appeal to it, if I’m being honest. I almost got myself shot tonight when I was thinking about her sucking my cock. Jaysus. The woman is doing my fecking head in. Making me lose focus and using resources I can’t afford to spare. I’ve got Ronan bitching in my ear and Niall to contend with, and everyone’s on my goddamn case. I can’t let her go, but I don’t want her to stay either. She’s confusing me. The way she touches me. How she looks at me. Inside, I see her for the fragile girl she really is, and that’s a weakness.

She’s in my bed, my house, my clothes. Fucking up everything. I should want her gone. There’s no room in my life for any woman who isn’t one of Viktor’s daughters. Especially ones who keep secrets. Flashes of Mandy shagging Sean on my desk blur my vision, swirling with all of the others before her who’ve fucked me over. Then I think about Carrick. How badly he wanted me to marry. If I’d had a choice in the matter, he’d have liked Mack. Would’ve told me to put a couple of babies in her and carry on our bloodline. Those aren’t things I want. Never have. All I ever wanted was to take my rightful place at Niall’s side, and this girl… she could destroy that.

My fingers drift up Mack’s rib cage and over her throat. I could end it right now. Make it all go away. She moans something in her sleep, and my eyes move to her face. She isn’t awake, but her eyes are fluttering. She’s dreaming. Another moan, and this time I can hear it clearly. My name.

“Christ,” I mutter.

I lean down and kiss her. I haven’t a clue why, other than that I want to.

“Goddamn you, Mack.” When I pull away, she whimpers.

Without another glance, I walk down the hall. There’s something I’ve been putting off that needs sorting out. It can’t wait another minute.

Ronan’s eyes snap open as I walk into the room. He’s sick of sleeping on my sofa and I don’t blame him. His frustration with me grows every day he has to stay locked in this house with Mack. But he’s the only lad I can trust to protect her and not put the moves on her.

I pull up a seat and toss the file into his lap. He opens it up, his eyes scanning the reports and soaking it all in. He doesn’t bother to say anything as he hands the file back. There isn’t need for that, and Ronan’s never been one for words anyway.

“Ivan is gunning for her,” I explain further. “Alexei assured Viktor we’d keep her on a leash until they flush out the rat.”

Understanding shines through his eyes as he gives me a stiff nod. I’ve made it clear now why he’s here. Why he needs to watch her and the reason for me being so cagey.

“I need to pay Niall a visit,” I tell him. “I can’t put it off any longer.”

“You best get to it then,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

***

Niall doesn’t do business at his house. It’s almost always done at Slainte or one of his other businesses. He likes to keep his family separate from this life, and I don’t blame him. In these early morning hours, I meet him at a diner that his sister runs.

Scarcely a minute passes after I slide into the leather booth before I’m greeted with a full Irish breakfast. The oul one loves his Irish breakfasts.

“I don’t fancy being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.” He folds his hands on the table and watches me carefully. “This better be important, Lachlan.”

“We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t,” I tell him.

I pull the file from my coat and he shakes his head, making a gesture with his hand. “Eat first.”

We do. The place is quiet, and there are only a handful of customers seated in other sections. I’m not even hungry, but when Niall says eat, you fucking eat.

When I finish, I slide my plate away and wait for him in silence.

Finally, he tosses his napkin onto the plate and pushes it away.

“Alright, lad. Now you can fuck up my day.”

I smile, only because Niall knows me well. If I’ve requested this meeting, it can’t be anything good. He’s on alert already because of what happened with the Armenians trying to steal our cash. That was no coincidence. This, though… this is going to wreck him. Niall doesn’t take to betrayal lightly. And the few grainy shots Alexei managed to gather from our security system proved something I never wanted to be right about. There has to be a rat in our outfit as well, seeming as the Armenians managed to get the code for the safe.

I slide the photos across to him and watch him as he scans over them. He doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t even twitch. That’s why Niall’s the boss. He’s always in control of himself. It’s only because I know him so well that I notice the redness taking over his ears.

He tucks the file into his jacket and then folds his hands across the laminate table.

“Tonight.”

He gets up out of the booth and leaves.

Chapter Nineteen

Mackenzie

I’m sitting in the bathroom applying my makeup when Lach’s cell phone rings in the next room. He answers it, and being the nosy investigator I am, I listen in. The conversation is one sided, and muffled through the door, so I press my ear against the wood to hear better.

Mostly, I only get a whole lot of muffled affirmatives before he hangs up. I brush it off as a lost cause, but then a moment later I hear the distinctive clip of Ronan’s shoes followed by his voice.

“Sean get a hold of you?” Ronan asks.

“Aye, Niall wants a meeting. Seven o’clock.”

“What are we gonna’ do about her?” Ronan grunts.

A sigh from Lachlan. “Chrissakes, she can’t come to the club. I’ll get Conor to watch her.”

There’s a beat of silence, and I can almost imagine the scowl on Ronan’s face. He doesn’t trust me, and Conor is one of their newest recruits. Which, incidentally, will probably work out in my favor. Because there’s no way in hell I’m missing that meeting tonight. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.

“You mind if I head off now then?” Ronan asks. “I’ve got some business to tend to.”

“Ah sure,” Lachlan says. “Tell Conor to get his arse over here.”

The front door slams a moment later, and then Lachlan’s banging on the bathroom door, nearly scaring me half to death.

“Ye alright in there, sweetheart?”

I grab my lipstick tube and open the door with my best doe-eyed expression. “Yeah, just putting on my makeup.”

“Ye’re not going anywhere.”

“I know.” I scowl. “I’m just bored, Jesus, give me a break, will ya?”

He pushes his way into the bathroom and sandwiches me between his body and the counter.

“I’ve a cure for that,” he says.

I bite my lip and look up at him, only to be pulled into his crushing grip while he kisses the hell out of me. The tension in my body melts away almost immediately. I don’t know how he does that. Any other guy tries to manhandle me like this I’d be kneeing him in the nuts.

Lachlan’s breathing grows rougher as he wraps his arms around my waist and holds me tight. His erection is pressed up against my stomach, and there’s no doubt in my mind what he wants. We haven’t had any time over the last few days since he’s always coming or going, but I knew he’d want to pick up where he left off. A part of me wants it too.

I reach up and run my fingers through his hair and down his neck, making him groan. It’s such a masculine sound, and I want to make him do it again and again.

Then his ringtone blares, completely ruining the moment.

“Fecking hell,” he curses into the phone as he pulls back. “What now?”

I can’t hear what the other voice is saying on the line, but whatever it is makes Lachlan tense. He bites out a few more syllables and then hangs up.

“Always with the interruptions.” He reaches down and adjusts himself. “Ye better be ready for me tonight, sweetheart. I’ll be finishing this.”

“I have no doubts about that.” A wave of guilt crashes over me for what I’m about to do.

“I’ve got to head on,” he says.

“Okay.”

He reaches down and brushes his lips against mine like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and it surprises us both.

“Be good, sweetheart. No giving Conor a hard time.”

“Never,” I lie.

He turns to go, but at the last second, his fingers brush over my necklace. My breathing stops as he inspects it, and then his eyes find mine again with a questioning glance.

“Ye don’t seem like the hearts type,” he says.

I choke back the emotion in my voice as I stare up at him and give him a sad smile. “That’s because I’m not.”

Chapter Twenty

Mackenzie

Now that Lachlan and Ronan are gone, I’ve put two and two together. Ronan must be a lot higher on the totem pole than I originally expected. He had to go to the meeting tonight, and Lachlan wasn’t at all happy about leaving me in the hands of a new recruit. There was obvious worry on his face when he left. And also something else. Something that looked similar to fear. I brushed it off. Because there’s no way he could actually be worried about me, right?

Regardless, it doesn’t matter. Even as I sit here, nestled in the safety of the fortress he calls a house, I’m already scheming my betrayal.

Conor is young, probably close to me in age. His position within the organization basically consists of being Lachlan’s bitch and doing whatever he’s told. Which tonight, means babysitting me. If I’d thought escaping him was going to be easy, I was dead wrong. He’s been watching me like a hawk for the last hour, and still hasn’t moved, even to go to the bathroom. I have every right to think that Lachlan probably threatened him with murder if anything were to happen to me while he’s gone. Conor is on high alert, his eyes bulging out of his head at every little noise. Jesus, he’s making me uptight even just sitting here with him.

I thought about sneaking out the window, but after further inspecting the glass and realizing it was frigging bulletproof and that none of the windows actually opened, that was a lost cause. This entire house has a lot more security features than I thought at first glance. I guess Lachlan is well prepared for any event. Good for him, but not so much for me. So now here I sit, an hour away from the meeting time, still trying to come up with a plan.

There’s only one real solution. And it’s going to land me in some hot water with Lach and make me feel like a complete asshole. But what choice do I have? This is for Talia.

I walk into the kitchen and rummage through the cupboards under the guise of looking for food. I can still feel Conor’s eyes on me, and I know I’m going to have to make my performance convincing.

Humming a little tune, I open up one of the bottom cupboards. And then I scream. Full on bloody murder. Conor comes running in a second later with wild eyes as I back away and point a shaky finger at the cupboard.

“What is it?” he demands.

“There’s a s-s-spider,” I squeak while I bounce from foot to foot and flap my hands about. “A huge one. Ugh, they scare me. Please… get it out of here.”

He rolls his eyes and bends down to inspect the so called spider. That’s when I pounce. While he’s vulnerable, I slide my hand beneath his jaw until my arm’s wrapped around his neck. Gripping my bicep with my other hand, I squeeze and pull while I cup the back of his head with my other hand. He barely has time to panic or attempt to fight back before the blood supply is completely cut off. He’s untrained in this kind of combat, and my guess is his only defense is the gun on his hip. He doesn’t even have time to reach for it before he loses consciousness.

“That’s right, Conor,” I say softly. “Just go to sleep.”

When he’s limp in my arms, I drag him into the kitchen and prop him on a dining room chair. Thank God Lachlan didn’t buy cheap wood crap. I don’t have any rope, so I have to settle for using some sheets and other fabric, along with a roll of duct tape.

Once he’s secure and I know he won’t be going anywhere, I pause to feel the tiniest flicker of remorse.

“Sorry, buddy.” I pat him on the head. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

With one last glance, I grab my keys and jacket and head towards the door.

***

After stopping off at the motel to change into a sexy dress and heels, I’ve only got about ten minutes before the meeting is due to start. I opt for a cab instead of the T and make it to Slainte ten minutes late.

I don’t know how long these meetings generally carry on, but I’m hoping it’s for a while. When I get inside, I try to play it cool while I figure out where they’d be meeting. I know there’s a lower level, but I’ve never been down there before. After scoping the place out, I notice a cocktail waitress getting ready to take a shit ton of alcohol through a side door to the stairwell.

Seizing my opportunity, I race over and grab her by the arm.

“Hey.” I smile. “It’s Nikki, right?”

“Yeah?” she shrugs. “Do you mind, I gotta’ get downstairs.”

“Actually, I do,” I say. “I’m Lachlan’s girl, Mack.”

“Oh yeah.” She straightens and gives me a worried glance like I might rip her head off or something. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” I reassure her as I take the tray of drinks from her hands. “But Niall wants me to run drinks tonight. Sensitive ears and all of that.”

She chews on her lip for a moment before she nods. I smile in response. I honestly expected it to be a lot harder than that. Apparently belonging to Lachlan does have its advantages.

Nikki walks away and I quickly bolt through the door, stealing myself with a breath as I tiptoe down the stairs and through the hallway. It’s dark and more than a little bit scary down here. While the upstairs is all class and modernly furnished, this part of the building looks like it was gutted and left bare bones. Exposed brick walls line the hallway, making the room feel chillier than it probably is as I creep down the corridor.

There are quite a few rooms down here, but most of the doors I pass are locked. If I had more time, I’d pick them to see what they’re hiding, but I don’t. I need to get to the room at the end of the hall, where the door is propped open and light is spilling onto the concrete floor. The low murmurs inside let me know the meeting has already convened, and when I get close enough, I pause for a moment to listen in.

“There’s a fucking rat in our midst,” someone spits. “A goddamn lying, thieving, low-life fucking rat!”

Shit. Whoever that is sounds pissed.

“Are we sure?” another voice asks. “Maybe they just got lucky.”

A snort. “Are you frigging kidding me with this? They planned this shit down to the T. There ain’t no fucking way they didn’t know what was happening. They went straight for the safe.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” another man says. “Has everyone at the club been vetted?”

This time it’s Lachlan’s voice that responds. “Aye. The employees don’t know any details about the drop. It’d have to be one of our own to give the combination.”

“Now wait just a minute,” a slimy voice responds. One that I recognize as Donovan. “What about your little dancer girl?”

“What dancer girl?”

There’s an uncomfortable pause of silence, and the tray in my hands trembles with my nerves. I can just imagine what Lach’s thinking right now. This can’t be good for me.

“I vetted her myself, Donny,” Lachlan responds in a deadly tone. “Do I need to say it again?”

“All I’m saying is the girl pops up at the fights and the Russians were eyeing her off like a bad piece of meat. Next thing you know she’s working in the club and warming your bed, and then we’ve got the Armenians busting down our doors. Seems like an awful lot of coincidences to me.”

“Need I remind ye that the Armenians tried to kill her?” Lachlan says. “And whether or not she warms my bed is none of your concern. She knows to keep her gob shut. Probably why half the lads don’t know she’s the one who handed your arse to ye at the fights.”

There are some low chuckles and more murmurs before someone makes a loud noise. “Enough.”

The room goes silent, and I have no doubt about who’s speaking now. Niall.

“If Lachlan says she’s vetted, she’s vetted. He knows what’s at stake here.”

My arms are shaking now, threatening to collapse beneath the weight of the tray. I knew it before, but hearing the words now cement it. The threat in Niall’s voice is clear. What I’m doing might very well get Lachlan killed. Just because he’s loyal to Niall doesn’t mean anything. In the mafia, if you screw up you’re dead. For a brief moment, I consider turning around and walking back up the stairs. Finding another way to get the information I need. But then the door upstairs opens, followed by footsteps.

Shit.

My eyes dart around, and there’s nothing around me but closed doors. I’m boxed in and I have no choice.

With a deep breath, I stride into the room, keeping my head down as I start passing out drinks like it’s exactly what I came to do. I can’t meet Lachlan’s eyes, but I can feel them burning into me as I make my way around the table. The man who was behind me walks into the room and takes a seat, none the wiser that I was just outside the door listening in.

When I get to Lachlan, he grabs my wrist in a bruising grip. I glance down at him and bite the inside of my cheek, sensing that the simmering rage in his eyes isn’t going to bode well for me later on.

“Who’s this?” the man beside him asks.

I glance over, and right away I know it’s Sean MacKenna. I haven’t seen him around the VIP area, but I know he’s Niall’s son, and next in line for the throne. Almost a carbon copy of his father, he’s nowhere near as handsome as Lachlan. His eyes are flat and brown, his hair much of the same. There’s not a single remarkable feature that stands out, or anything charming about him really. And yet he eye fucks me like he has every right to.

My gaze swings back to Lach, and the vein in his neck is throbbing furiously. My own chest is heaving with the swell of anxiety. I want nothing more than to run from the room, but I can’t. Almost as if he’s testing me, Lachlan let’s go of my wrist to see what I’ll do.

I walk to Sean’s right and set a drink down for him, only to have him jerk the tray away and pull me into his lap. All I want to do is elbow him in the face. He’d deserve it. But I have to remember why I’m doing this. I have to eliminate any potential suspects. Playing the role I’ve chosen, I let out an obnoxious giggle and act as though I’m flattered by his attention. In actuality, the disgust is rolling off of me in waves.

“She’d do for a running around the house,” Sean says to the room.

Some of the men bust up in laughter, but when I glance at Lachlan, the hurt and rage is clear on his face. Even Ronan is scowling at me in disapproval, and I hate myself at this moment. I don’t want to hurt Lachlan. If this was a test, I just failed miserably. I’ve embarrassed him in front of all of his men, and worst of all his rival.

It’s on me to tell Sean to back off, and I’m not saying anything because I’m paralyzed with too many emotions to count. The need to find information for Talia. The fear inside my chest. The feelings I have for Lachlan. Feelings I still don’t fully understand.

“Let her go, Sean,” Niall orders.

His lips flatten and the room goes dead quiet as I stand on shaky legs. Niall’s dark gaze is directly on me, appraising.

“Ye’re the one under Lachlan’s protection?”

My eyes dart to Lach, but he’s no longer looking at me. His neck is corded, his forearm muscles taut as he clenches his hands together on the table.

“Yes,” I squeak.

“Do ye think ye deserve such a kindness?” Niall asks.

I stare at him in disbelief. He’s looking at me like I’m a piece of trash, but really, can I blame him? I was just acting like a complete fricken’ airhead in Sean’s lap. Sean may be his son, but it’s clear that Niall isn’t giving him any free passes. I’ve disrespected Lachlan, and there’s going to be hell to pay later.

“I don’t know.”

My eyes find Lachlan again. A small part of me wants to fling myself in his lap and tell him I didn’t mean to do it. That I’m confused and that none of this makes any sense. That’s the crazy part of me talking. The good part of me that I’ve had to squash down and keep locked up tight all these years. That person has no part in my life. That’s what my dad would tell me. But what did being strong ever get him?

“Ye best give that some thought,” Niall says in warning. “There’s no room for weak links in this outfit. Or any other for that matter.”

I nod in shame as all of their eyes fall on me. Jesus, this has got to be the stupidest thing I could have done. Instead of getting on their good side, I’ve drawn more suspicion. Of course they are going to be protective of Lachlan. But Sean is Niall’s son, and I honestly expected him to have a little more sway. I figured he probably touched any of the girls whenever he wants to. That’s how Sasha makes it sound, but the longer I spend here, the more I’m seeing that’s not the case.

“We have business to tend to,” Niall says. “Leave now. Donny, go and shut the door behind her.”

I do as he says without a glance back. Donovan follows me up the stairs, and when we get to the top, he grips me by the arms and wheels me around. I gasp when I see his broken nose and fat lip, wondering how I didn’t notice them before.

“You stupid fucking cunt,” he hisses. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

Inwardly, his words have the intended effect. They send my paranoia sky high. All of my red flags are going off, but I don’t show it.

“What’s your deal?” I wrench my arm back.

He cocks his head to the side, his eyes wandering over me.

“Who I put my dick in is not your concern.” He leans into my space and his pupils grow even larger. “Until your turn comes around.”

The pleasure on his face as he says this scares the shit out of me. I thought I’d seen evil before, but looking at Donovan now, I know that isn’t true. And knowing how often he corners Sasha, it bothers me even more.

“What’s your problem?” I try to pull away from him. “Lachlan would murder you if he knew…”

He slams me up against the door and smiles. “Lachlan doesn’t give a shit about you. You’re just the flavor of the week. And when he’s done with you, I’m going to make you wish you were dead.”

Before I can even wrap my thoughts around his threat, he shoves me through the door and locks it behind me. Tears blur my vision as I walk back through the club. I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t trust my instincts anymore. I'm drowning under the weight of feelings I didn’t expect. Feelings I have no right to. The lines are so blurred I don't know what’s real or fake anymore.

When I get to the front door, the bouncer steps in the way and crosses his arms across his burly chest.

“Boss wants you to wait in the back,” he says.

Of course he does. I’m too defeated to argue, so I walk back to the dressing rooms, hoping I can at least see Sasha. I find her a few minutes later, but she doesn’t look happy to see me either. Go figure.

“What did you do?” she snaps.

“What do you mean?”

She grabs me by the arm and drags me down the hall, away from the prying eyes of the other girls.

“I mean you promised you weren’t going to say anything about Donny.” Her lip quivers and her eyes fill with tears.

“Sash, I didn’t say anything to Lachlan…” I try to explain myself.

She crosses her arms and shakes her head. “No, even worse. You told Ronan. Jesus, he beat the living daylights out of Donny, and now things are just going to get worse for me.”

“Ronan will watch out for you,” I tell her. “Donovan shouldn’t be hassling you out like he is, Sash. And you shouldn’t have to take it either.”

“He’s a sick fucking freak, Mack! You really think this is gonna’ stop him? It’s only going to make him more determined. And now Ronan thinks…”

She sniffles and looks away, wiping her thumbs beneath her eyes.

“He thinks what?” I ask her gently.

“He thinks I’m a goddamn whore, and he’s not going to want anything to do with me.”

The hurt in her voice breaks what little respect I had left for myself.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I thought I was helping.”

“Yeah, well you aren’t,” she scolds. “You don’t understand how things work in this world. You’ve been here five minutes. It’s not your place to fix things.”

I glance down at my shoes and nod. “I’m really sorry. I’ll stay out of your business from now on.”

I turn to go, but Sasha reaches out and grabs me, pulling me in for a dreaded hug. I stiffen, as usual, but I let her hug me anyway.

“You need to be careful, Mack,” she says. “Just because you’re under Lachlan’s protection doesn’t mean anything. Things still have a way of happening. Especially when Donny’s involved.”

“What do you mean?” I pull away so I can look her in the eyes.

She glances back at the door and bites her lip. This could be important, and I know I have to get it out of her whatever it is.

“You can tell me, Sash,” I plead. “Anything. I just want to know what I’m getting myself into.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that there have been other girls who tried to stand up to Donny, and it didn’t end so well for them.”

“Like who?” I demand.

She gives her head a tiny shake, and the fear in her eyes is obvious. “I can’t say.”

“Was one of them Talia?” I blurt.

Her eyes widen, and she glances around again as she backs away. Shit. I’ve royally fucked up now, but it can’t be helped. I know she knows something, and I have to get it out of her, friend or not.

I grab her arm in a bruising grip and drag her even further down the hall.

“You have to tell me Sash.”

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head frantically. “I don’t know anything! I just want to work. That’s all. Let me go, Mack.”

I’ve got her cornered, and her whole body is trembling under the weight of my stare. I can only imagine what I must look like right now, so I do my best to take it down a notch.

“She was my best friend,” I whisper. “Please, Sash. I just need to know what happened to her.”

“Jesus.” Her face goes pale as she grips her hair and takes a deep breath. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“No,” I say adamantly. “I met Lachlan at the fights. He offered me a job. But I know that Talia worked here before she went missing.”

This could very well get me killed, but I trust that Sasha isn’t going to open her mouth about this unless she absolutely has to. If for no other reason than she’s trying to keep her head down and not draw attention to herself. If I had to guess, I’d say the girl has some secrets of her own.

“Look, I don’t know, okay,” she says. “I swear. She was a really nice girl and all, but she only worked here for a couple of weeks. I don’t know what happened to her. One day she just stopped showing up for work. And then the police came and asked us a bunch of questions. I didn’t know anything then, and I still don’t.”

“You have to know something,” I push. “Just tell me who she was hanging out with. Which one of the guys? Just give me that much.”

“I have a sick mother to take care of!” she cries. “God, Mack, are you trying to get me killed?”

The weight of my guilt is crushing me. None of this is as easy as I thought it was going to be. I don’t want to scare Sasha or even get her involved. But I need to know. And I will do whatever I can to protect her if it comes down to it.

“None of this will come back to you. I promise.”

Sasha hesitates and then paces back and forth. Her hair is all tangled from her pulling on it, and her eyes look drawn and tired. I have to wonder what kind of man managed to suck such a sweet girl into a place like this and then left her to fend for himself. I don’t know him, but I hate him already.

Sasha comes to a halt, seemingly with her mind made up.

“There were a few guys who were interested,” she says quickly. “Donny, Sean, and some big Russian guy. I don’t know his name. He’s only been in here a few times and I didn’t pay attention. You shouldn’t either, Mack. You need to let this go before the same thing ends up happening to you.”

“I can’t.”

She shakes her head and lets out an agonized sigh.

“Well, then you’re going to die too.”

Without another word, she pushes past me, leaving me in peace to the swell of grief rising inside of my chest.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mackenzie

Ronan comes for me just after midnight, escorting me out to the curb where Lachlan is already waiting inside his car.

Neither one of them says a word to me as Ronan shoves me into the passenger seat with a scowl and then shuts the door behind me. I barely have time to buckle myself in before Lachlan zooms off into the night, his knuckles white on the steering wheel and his features hard.

I would apologize now, but somehow I don’t think that would help.

When we get back to his house, he drags me inside by the arm. Conor is still sitting in the chair, his expression changing from murderous to fear as his eyes swing between me and Lachlan.

“For chrissakes,” Lachlan barks. “Untie him. Now!”

I scurry over and do as he says, making quick work of his bonds. He cringes when I rip off the duct tape, and I feel like an asshole all over again.

“I’m really sorry,” I whisper.

He doesn’t grace me with a response. The moment he’s up and on his feet, Lachlan orders him to get out. And then it’s just the two of us. Him with his cold, hard gaze, and me… quaking in my stilettos.

“Come here.”

I walk to him with downcast eyes, silently pleading for him to go easy on me. I know what’s coming next. I know it in my bones. But this wasn’t how I wanted it to go.

Once I’m within arm’s length, he grabs me by the throat and slams me up against the wall, his eyes burning with rage.

“Do ye fancy a buck with Sean?” he asks. “Is that it?”

“No.” I shake my head furiously. “I don’t.”

“Maybe ye should go warm his bed, sweetheart. It’d save me the trouble of trying to lookout for ye. In fact, I’m sure all the lads would be happy to have a go.”

I blink back tears from his hateful words.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Aye,” he says. “I do. What good are ye to me? Ye’re a disobedient little bitch who doesn’t do as she’s told.”

“You like that about me,” I tell him.

His eyes flash, and the heat of his erection grows as he presses his body closer to mine.

“Is that so?” he asks. “Tell me, sweetheart, do ye think I also like my woman to be making eyes at other lads while she sits in their lap?”

Shame wells up inside of me and I can’t respond. This only pisses him off more.

“Ye just don’t fucking get it,” he bellows. “What I’ve put on the line for you. And this is how ye repay me?”

I flinch at the fury in his voice, and it only makes him squeeze my throat harder.

“I’m sorry,” I cry out.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I am sorry,” I vow. “I don’t want Sean. I just thought…”

The words fail me. What can I say that will make him understand?

“I want ye to walk out that door,” he says. “Leave ye to fend for yourself. Ye’re just like the rest of them.”

“I’m not.” My eyes are wet, and I mean it. I don’t want him to think that about me.  “And I know you don’t want that. I’ll be good, I promise. I’m yours, Lachlan. I swear to you.”

“Mine?” he laughs cruelly as he reaches for the hem of my dress and rips it with his bare hands. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure yet.”

My entire body is shaking with adrenaline and nerves. He’s so angry with me, and if I’m being honest with myself, I am too. But this isn’t how I want this to happen. I’m scared, for the first time in my life, I’m really fucking scared. And it’s because he could really hurt me. Not physically. But in the worst possible way. He could destroy me.

Lachlan has that power. And I need him to not hurt me. I need him to… I don’t know. Be nice to me. At least right now. Just during this vulnerable moment. That’s all.

“Lachlan, wait,” I plead.

He continues to tear at my dress, pulling pieces of fabric away as his eyes focus on the task at hand. His hands are all over me, rough and punishing, and he isn’t even hearing me right now. I need to make him hear. I reach up and clasp his face in my hands with a gentle touch, moving his gaze back to me.

“Lach,” I whisper. “Wait, please.”

“Please, what?” he clips out. “I’m done with your teasing, sweetheart. Ye’re either with me, or ye’re not. Fair warning that option number two isn’t going to bode too well for you.”

This is his rage still talking. I try not to let it get to me as my thumbs stroke over his jaw. “I know. But I don’t want our first time together to be like this. Just… let me take care of you.”

My words seem to affect him, which throws me a little. I didn’t think I’d be able to get through to him. He pauses, his eyes searching mine. His expression softens just a fraction as guilt flickers in his eyes. Knowing that I have him, I reach down and take his hands in mine, backing him up until his legs hit the sofa. He watches me as I retrieve my iPod from my purse and scroll through some music. I press play and then set it down on the coffee table, shimmying out of the ruined fabric of my dress to Burning Desire by Lana Del Ray. I want it to be slow and sweet. I want him to burn like I do.

“I only dance for you from now on,” I say softly. “Remember?”

Lachlan doesn’t take his eyes off me for a second, and it’s clear to me I’ve lost his trust. It guts me, even though it shouldn’t. Where I come from, trust is a big thing. Loyalty. My loyalty got me into this mess, and I wish I could just tell him that. But I can’t. Instead, I’m going to make it up to him. I’m going to offer myself up to him on a silver platter. Something I swore I would never do.

Once I’m down to nothing but a black lace bra and panties, I step between his legs and turn around. Swiveling my hips, I dance in time to the beat of the music and ease myself onto his lap, rubbing my bottom against his erection. Even through his jeans, I can feel how hard he is for me. He’s going to be inside of me soon. My first. It’s strange to me how okay I am with that. How much I want him to be the one.

After a few moments, he relaxes beneath me, his hands wandering over my body while I grind against him. He reaches around and palms my breasts through the lace at the same time he rocks his pelvis up into me. When I glance down at his hands on my body, I can see the strength in his muscular forearms. Everything about him is strong. Primitive. Male. He makes me feel tiny. Fragile. These are things I never thought I’d like to feel, but I do.

He pulls me back against his chest and holds me there while one of his hands delves lower, into my panties. He finds the pool of moisture there and his groan vibrates against my back as he stuffs me with his fingers. I watch them move beneath the fabric, enrapt at the sight as I thrash against him. He’s being gentler than I thought, but it doesn’t last. When my head falls back against his shoulder and my eyes meets his, something inside of him snaps.

His free hand reaches up to clutch at my throat as his lips find my ear.

“Things are going to change from here on out,” he says. “This isn’t a fucking game, Mack.”

“I know.”

He grabs my jaw and squeezes it between his fingers as he pins me with his eyes. “Ye’re going to abide by whatever I tell you from now on. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

I can’t move my head, or even open my mouth, but it turns out it doesn’t matter. He uses his grip to move my head up and down in a nod of agreement as he answers.

“Yes, Lachlan.”

When he loosens his grip on my jaw, I echo him as he clearly wants. “Yes, Lachlan,” I tell him. “Whatever you say from now on. I’ll be good.”

He reaches down and slides his hand beneath my panties to cup my ass cheek, his touch tender while his eyes are still furious. It confuses me, and I’m shocked as hell when he smacks my ass so hard I yelp and nearly jump out of his lap. That’s definitely going to leave a mark.

“Have ye any idea what ye did tonight?” he growls.

“Yes,” I whimper. “I’m sorry.”

His fingers move harder inside of me, rougher, slapping against my clit and making me buck against his leg.

“Are ye a slut?” he demands.

Shock resonates through me at his accusation, but I’m too delirious to fight him. I’m so close to coming. So freaking close.

“No,” I whimper. “I’m not.”

His grip tightens around my sore ass in warning and he bites down on my earlobe.

“The correct answer to that, Mack,” he breathes harshly. “Is aye, Lachlan. I’m a slut for you. Only you.”

Jesus. Why the hell is this turning me on? It shouldn’t, right? I should be angry or something. But instead I’m pleading incoherently, and my arousal is so heavy I can now hear it slapping against his hand every time he moves inside of me.

“Please,” I beg.

“Answer me,” he insists as he slows his movements.

I shake my head and start to move against him myself. I’ll tell him whatever he wants to hear right now if he just doesn’t stop what he’s doing to me.

“Yes, Lachlan,” I scream so loud that if any of his men are outside, they’re sure to hear it too. “I’m a slut, but only for you.”

He grunts and slams his hand deeper.

I cry out as the orgasm washes over me, riding out the waves with jerky movements of my hips while he presses hot kisses all the way down my throat. Then he pulls his hand out of me and brings his still wet fingers up to grip my face, smearing them across my lips before he pushes them inside.

The animalistic part of me already knows what he wants, so I give into him. I suck them while he watches with smoldering eyes and makes a low noise of approval in his throat.

“Now what have ye to say?” he asks.

I blink at him, and it takes me a minute for me to realize what he wants. It’s so arrogant of him, but I like it when he’s like this, God help me.

“Thank you, Lachlan.”

“For?”

“For making me come.”

“Good girl. Now turn around,” he orders in a husky voice.

I get up long enough to spin and straddle his lap, resting my hands on his shoulders. He’s staring at me with questioning eyes. Probably wondering if he can trust me. If he should go through with this or kick me to the curb. I don’t know if it’s my need for answers or something else that makes me bob forward and capture his mouth with mine.

He tastes hot and sweet and so many other things I can’t articulate. Whatever was going through his mind a moment ago has vanished, replaced by a rapturous hunger. His hands find the clasp of my bra, making short work of it before he tosses it aside completely. Then he palms both of my breasts roughly while he pulls away to stare at them.

“These tits,” he grunts. “You and these goddamn tits.”

It’s all the talking he does before his mouth is on them, licking at them like he can’t get enough. My fingers stroke through his hair and down the back of his neck while my head falls back and I allow myself to feel everything, for just this moment. He’s so good. Too good.

“Christ.” He picks me up and wraps my legs around his waist, carrying me down the hall. “I’m going to burst if I don’t get inside of ye.”

Kicking open the door to his bedroom, he lays me down on the bed. His eyes never leave mine as he reaches for his belt and discards his pants in one fell swoop.

My stomach flutters at the sight before me. He’s perfect. Cut and lean and so fricken’ hot I feel like the slut he says I am for wanting him the way I do. His cock stands rigid between his legs, balls heavy with need as a drop of pre-cum leaks from the tip. It looks painful, and I want to be the one to ease it for him. I want him so bad it scares me.

“You’ve no idea how many times I’ve imagined the ways I’d have you, Mack,” he says gruffly as he lowers himself on top of me.

I reach up and kiss his throat, my voice vibrating against his skin.

“Tell me.”

He turns his head and nips at my fingers. “On my desk, in my car, at the club…”

My hands smooth down his muscular back and pull him closer, and he grins.

“Ye’d like that, wouldn’t ye?”

I crash my lips against his and wrap my legs around his waist. I need him inside of me, yesterday. I don’t even care to admit it anymore. I’ll get it out of my system, I’m sure. There’s only one surefire way. But Lachlan pulls away and gives me a chaste look as he grips my wrists in his hand. He won’t be rushed, apparently.

“Ye know what I wanted to do to ye tonight?”

I close my eyes and blow out a breath, afraid of what he might say. “What?”

“I wanted to bend ye over the table and eat your hot little cunt before the whole lot of them,” he says.

I blink my eyes open, shocked by the heated possession staring back at me. He really does think I’m his. I don’t know how to feel about that. Will he feel the same after tonight?

He spreads my legs and leans back just enough so that he can grip his cock in his hand, sliding it against my arousal. A strangled noise leaves my throat, and this pleases him. But when he positions himself at my entrance, I tense up a little, and he doesn’t miss it.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asks. “Afraid I won’t fit?”

“Yes,” I lie.

My answer makes him groan, and then he’s leaning forward, bracing himself on the weight of his elbows as his lips find mine.

“I’ll be good to you,” he murmurs against me.

He starts to push inside, and just as I suspect, there’s a slight bite of pain. He’s too frigging big.

I bite my lip and he closes his eyes as his entire body tightens in my grasp.

“Jaysus, ye’re tight,” he grunts.

And then it happens. He meets my resistance, and it breaks inside of me. It isn’t as bad as I thought, but Lachlan definitely notices. He pauses, his eyes flying open as he stares into mine. Nothing is said for a few long moments. Only the sound of our heavy breathing fills the room as I reach up with a shaky hand and stroke his scruff.

“You’re my first.”

Something about those words turns the fire in his eyes into a blazing inferno. His lips crash down on mine, and he kisses me until my lips are swollen with his roughness. When he pulls away, his eyes are heavy with lust and my own heart is thudding violently in my chest.

He starts to roll his hips inside of me at the same time his thumb finds my clit. He doesn’t take his eyes off me for a second, and I can’t look away either. For some reason, this is more intimate than the act itself. Knowing that he’s the first and only man to have me this way. To be inside of me. But it’s his eyes on mine while he stuffs me with his cock that makes my pulse skyrocket.

It isn’t long until I’m bucking against him, overcome by the intensity of what I’m feeling. I didn’t expect it to feel good. I only expected pain. But it does feel good. He’s driving in and out of my wetness. His hands are branding me with the heat of his possession, his eyes searing me with one train of thought. I belong to him. Only him. He tells me as much when I shatter around him.

Tension ripples along his back and his biceps as he struggles for control. His body is slick with sweat and he looks like he’s in agony. Then his head falls back and his mouth parts as he groans out his release.  He jerks inside of me, hot jets of his cum filling my womb. It’s only then that I realize we didn’t even use a condom. He doesn’t say it, but it’s in his eyes. He’s thinking the same thing.

“I’m on the pill,” I blurt. “And I’m clean, obviously.”

“Aye.” He grins. “Obviously. Me too, sweetheart.”

His eyes soften as he reaches down and kisses me. This time it’s soft and sweet. It freaks me the hell out. I don’t do this. I don’t do intimacy in any form. But that isn’t even what’s bothering me about this. What’s bothering me is that I’m not bothered by his touch. His kiss. I should be. I should be very bothered. I cannot let my defenses down against this guy.

When he collapses next to me on the bed, I try to scramble away towards the bathroom, but he captures my wrist and stops me.

“What in the bleeding hell do ye think ye’re doing?” he demands.

“I was just going to get cleaned up.”

He jerks me back towards him and wraps an arm around me. “Ye don’t get out of my bed the minute I blow my load into you,” he says.

He sounds genuinely offended, so I try to ignore my discomfort and allow myself to relax around him. But it’s obvious to both of us, it’s not going to happen.

“Haven’t ye ever just been held before, Mack?” he asks.

I tense at his question. No, I haven’t. And that’s how I prefer it. So friggen what?

“Look, Lachlan,” I tell him. “You should probably know right now that I’m defective. I’m missing that chip other people have. The one that makes women want to be held and cuddled. I don’t want or need those things. There’s nothing like that inside of me, okay. So just drop it.”

He turns my face towards his and gives me a sad expression. Pity. “Ye’re dead wrong about that, Mack,” he says softly. “Maybe you can’t see it, but I can.”

I open my mouth to tell him off, but he kisses me again and then squeezes my ass.

“Come.” He takes my hand in his. “Let’s have a shower.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mackenzie

I wake up in ecstasy. Quite literally, since Lach’s got his face buried between my legs.

Holy shit, this guy and his tongue. He knows how to use it that’s for sure. I’m grabbing his hair, arching my back, wiggling my hips around and making all sorts of crazy noises while he laps at me. All I can see is his dark hair bobbing up and down between my thighs, and it’s fricken hot.

All of this combined pushes me over the edge. Jesus, I don’t even last two minutes. That can’t be normal, right?

Lachlan pulls away, his lips still wet with my arousal as he pushes his hips between my legs. He’s staring at me. Hard. His eyes are flicking back and forth between mine, appraising. Something has changed between us. I know he can feel it too.

He reaches down and brushes my hair away from my face. And then he kisses me. It’s soft and tentative, like he’s testing something. I kiss him too and dig my fingers into his back. He’s making me feel crazy. Deranged. Like I can’t remember why I’m doing any of this and who he really is.

He groans and murmurs something unintelligible against my lips. His hands are skating over my body, stroking my breasts while he grinds his erection against me. I make a sound in my throat, and he tenses above me. The softness of his lips bleeds away as he kisses me hard. And then he snags my lip between his teeth and jerks.

I barely have time to understand what’s happening. His eyes flash and he flips me over and pins me down on the bed. He crawls up and straddles the back of my upper thighs, his hand twining in my hair and pushing my face down against the pillow.

“What the fuck are ye doing?” he snarls.

I don’t answer because I’m pretty certain this is a rhetorical question. He’s just as confused as I am about this thing between us. He can’t make sense of it, and he doesn’t want it either. But his hard cock wedged against my ass cheeks lets me know he wants me just fine.

His grip tightens on my hair and then he sinks inside of me from behind.

“I didn’t want this.” He grabs a handful of my ass cheek and squeezes.

“I know,” I whisper.

He fucks me hard and fast, his palms pushing my shoulders down as his hips crash into my ass.

“Goddamn you, Mack,” he grunts. “Ye’re fucking everything up.”

I take it. I take his punishment, and what’s more, I like it. I’m glad that he’s just as fucked up in the head as I feel. It makes my conscience feel better about this whole situation.

“You fucked everything up!” I yell back at him.

His lips come down to the back of my neck, sucking and biting their way to my ear.

“Nobody else gets this,” he whispers threateningly. “You gave it to me, Mack. It’s mine. Do ye understand that?”

He jerks on my hair and I grunt. “Fuck you, asshole.”

“Yeah, fuck me,” he echoes. “You’ll be in my bed every night, sweetheart. Riding my cock, taking my come. This body is mine now. Am I making myself clear enough?”

In answer, I come all over him again. He buries his face in my hair and jerks inside of me, emptying himself with a groan. And then he collapses against me, his body heavy and slicked with sweat.

I don’t move or try to fight him, even though I’m still uncomfortable. My discomfort is only outweighed by the thoughts racing through my mind. His words. His breathing calms and he kisses my throat. This time there’s nothing rough about it. The man is fucking Bipolar, I swear.

He rolls onto his side but keeps his arm thrown over my waist. I move into a more comfortable position and meet his eyes.

“A goddamn virgin,” he mutters. “Tell me how that’s possible, Mack.”

I shrug and tear my eyes away. “Never found anyone I wanted to give it to.”

Lachlan grabs my face and turns my attention back to him, his voice soft when he speaks. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says earnestly. “For giving it to me.”

I clear my throat and give him a shaky smile as I retreat back into my shell. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Today.” His face darkens. “Ye’re coming back to the club with me. Where I can keep an eye on ye.”

***

Turns out the little stunt I pulled with Conor actually worked out in my favor. Since Lachlan had to send Ronan off on some sort of mission, there isn’t anyone else he trusts to leave alone with me.

So tonight I’m back at the club, doing inventory. I highly suspect Lachlan could give two shits about how much stock he has, but it’s something to keep me busy. I’m not going to complain, because it puts me exactly where I need to be. I can keep an eye on the Russians, and Donny too. Now that Sasha has told me he was hanging around Talia, I have something else to go on besides just my dislike of the guy.

The problem is, he’s not anywhere to be found tonight. And surprisingly, I haven’t actually seen him at the club a whole lot since I’ve been here. I suspect he only stops by out of necessity or when it suits him, which means I need eyes on him elsewhere. That could present a problem since I know Lachlan’s going to be watching me like a hawk now.

Halfway through my shift, I decide to go check on Sasha. I feel bad with how I left things last time, and I want to make sure she’s alright. But when I wander into the dressing room and find her with a split lip and a bruise around her neck, I see red.

“What the hell happened to you, Sash?” I demand.

Her eyes dart around the room before she glances back at me pleadingly. I slam my lips together and gesture down the hall, away from the prying ears. Once we’re at a safe distance, I cross my arms and rake my eyes over her body. She’s practically shaking with fear, and it pisses me the hell off. Trying for a gentler tone, I ask her again.

“Did Donny do this to you?”

She bites her lip and stares at the floor. Answer enough. Jesus, where the hell is Ronan when you need him?

“Let me tell Lachlan,” I plead with her. “He’ll put a stop to this once and for all, Sash.”

The venom that spews from her mouth when she laughs shocks me. “No he fucking won’t,” she snaps. “You don’t get how things work, Mack. Donny is one of their own. We’re the outsiders here. Lachlan won’t say or do anything that will make it any better.”

“I don’t believe that,” I say weakly.

She gives me a pitiful expression and shakes her head. “Well then I feel sorry for you. You’re going to have to learn the hard way.”

I wring my hands together and try to think of something that will fix this mess. Apart from me kicking his ass again, I don’t see a whole lot of other options.

“Let me talk to him then,” I suggest.

Sasha shakes her head, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “No, Mack. Just leave it alone. He’ll get bored with me eventually.”

“That’s not good enough,” I argue. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you…”

“You have to,” she hisses.

Her lip wobbles and then her eyes start leaking tears, and I have one of those moments where I’m reminded that I’m an awful human being. Because I don’t know how to comfort her right now. Every time I ever cried, my dad told me to knock it off. Somehow I don’t think that approach will comfort Sasha.

“I’m sorry, Sash.”

“I’m scared,” she admits. “He scares the hell out of me. He knows where I live, what my schedule’s like… he even knows about my sick mom. He’s said some things. Some really bad things. And I don’t know what he’ll do if I don’t give him what he wants.”

Suddenly, it isn’t Sasha I’m looking at anymore. It’s Talia. My stomach churns as I wonder if this was the same thing she felt. Like she was trapped in an impossible situation, and she didn’t know who to turn to. She would never come to me with it because she knew I’d take them all on myself. That was her weakness. Talia was soft hearted, but she was fiercely protective of those she loved too. It only strengthens my determination. I’m not going to let Donny get away with this shit anymore.

“Listen, Sash,” I say. “I’m going to handle this, okay? I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

She blinks up at me with clear blue eyes and stares at me in confusion. The exhaustion on her face is almost too much. The stress has been taking a toll on her body, and she looks thin. Her cheekbones are too prominent, the dark circles under her eyes too obvious. Her mother is dying, and on top of that she has some psycho trying to use and abuse her every chance he gets. I want to wring his fucking neck.

“Why?” she asks. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Because that’s what friends do,” I tell her. “And I’m your friend.”

“Okay.” Her body sags in relief. “I guess I don’t really have any other choice.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mackenzie

Later that night, I’m in the stock room finishing up my inventory when someone grabs me from behind and covers my mouth. On instinct I try to throw my head back into his face, but when he grips me by the hair and I get a whiff of his cologne, I relax.

“Ye’re a deadly wee thing, aren’t ye butterfly?”

He moves his mouth over my ear to nibble on it, and I keep my lips zipped as my body melts against him. Hot kisses press against the sensitive flesh of my neck as his hand snakes lower and cups the thong beneath my dress.

“Who does this belong to, sweetheart?” he asks in a rough voice.

His erection is already poking into my back, and there’s some feral part of me that loves that he sought me out just to do this.

“It’s yours, Lach.”

He groans and bites at the back of my neck while he starts to gather the material of my dress around my waist. He’s rubbing his hard cock against my ass like a weapon.

“You caused this,” he tells me. “I haven’t been able to think straight all night. Now ye’re going to fix it.”

“Okay,” I agree.

“Bend forward and put your hands against the shelf.”

I do as he orders because... I just really want to. Rough fingers shove my thong aside a moment before the sound of his zipper fills the small space.

“I don’t have time for sweet tonight.” He slides his thick cock between my thighs. “I’m going to fuck ye hard and fast and stuff ye full of my come before I have to leave.”

I make a noise in my throat. Jesus, why does that sound so hot?

Lachlan grabs my hips and sinks into me, and he was right about one thing. It’s definitely not sweet and gentle. The bottles of alcohol rattle on the shelf as he slaps his hips against my ass, his balls bouncing against me as he pushes deeper and deeper. He’s groaning, his hands simultaneously squeezing the flesh of my ass and one of my tits.

“Ye know what I love about you, Mack?” he grunts out. “I love that ye’re such a cocky little bitch, and yet ye let me toss you around like this. It fucking turns me on to no end.”

I don’t even try to deny it. I’m too busy trying to hold myself upright from the power of his thrusts and the electric energy humming through my body. He makes me feel like a princess and a dirty little slut.

“Tell me ye like it,” he demands.

“I like it.”

And I do. So sue me.

“Tell me ye like me using you like a little slut. Bending ye over and shagging ye wherever I want because I fucking own you.”

“Ugg…” I groan. “Fuck you, asshole.”

I can practically feel his smile beaming down into my back. Apparently my back talk turns him on just as much as my agreeability because he’s fucking me like a lunatic now. I have no more wits left when his hard fingers dig into my hips and he chokes out his release.

I’m panting, sweaty and can feel his come leaking down between my thighs when he pulls out. I still haven’t come, but I’m so fricken’ close. I half expect him to just zip up and leave, but instead, he turns me in his arms and pins me up against the shelf.

His lips find mine in a much gentler fashion than the way he just fucked me while his fingers go to where I need them. I close my eyes and my head falls back as he takes care of me. It’s intimate, having him so close, breathing my air… being so vulnerable to him, but it doesn’t bother me right now. I know he’s watching my every tick, my every breath, and every tortured sound pouring from my lips. He swallows them all and then gives something else back to me when he kisses me.

He sends me flying over the edge with only a full minute of effort before I collapse against him.

“Have I worn ye out, love?”

When I blink open my eyes, there’s a satisfied smirk on his face. “Yes,” I answer.

“Grand,” he murmurs against my lips. “Ye know I’ll murder anyone else who touches you, Mack. Just remember that.”

He’s not saying these things for show. I really think he would kill someone who tried to touch me. I wrap my arms around him and stroke the back of his neck as I stare up at him earnestly. “I would never do that to you.”

He nods, but doesn’t look convinced. Can’t say that I blame him after last night.

“I have to head on,” he says. “I won’t be in until late, but Ronan’s on his way back here now to take ye home.”

Home. As in his place. How comfortable he is with dropping that word. In another lifetime, I imagine what it would have been like for me to meet Lachlan. If Talia were still here, and she wasn’t the reason I was doing this, could I be with a man like him? Be the little woman to a mobster? I don’t know, but a part of me strongly suspects that I wouldn’t be able to help myself.

Lach brushes his lips against mine one last time and straightens his clothes before he walks towards the door. He gives me one last glance and a wink.

“Be good, butterfly.”

“I will,” I reassure him.

He turns again, but something else slips out of my lips. Something crazy.

“Lach?”

“Aye, sweetheart?”

“Be careful.”

This earns me a boyish smile. And fuck me if I’m not grinning right back at the goofy bastard.

***

When the door opens again, I figure it’s Ronan, so I finish up counting the bottles before I spin around. But when I notice Sean standing there, his eyes on my body, my stomach rolls. Is this why Lachlan came and fucked me earlier? Because he knew one of his men would try to corner me like this?

“Hello there.” Sean winks. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

Yeah, sure you didn’t. Asshole. I smile sweetly and shrug. “It’s okay. I was just about to leave anyway. Ronan’s taking me home.”

I hope this will make him back down, but not so.

“You’re sure a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Thanks,” I say tightly.

I try to move past him and reach for the door, but he grabs me by the arm and holds me in place.

“What’s the rush?” he asks.

“I told you, Ronan’s waiting for me.”

“Last I checked Ronan does as I tell him,” he replies. “He can wait a little longer.”

If he were anybody else, I’d have punched his lights out by now. But this is Niall’s son. And I’m in a very precarious position. Sean full well knows it too. I doubt there are many women who have the balls to stand up to him, knowing what he can do to them.

“I can see why Crow likes you,” he says. “Why don’t you stick around and have a drink with me.”

“I’d love to,” I try to keep my tone even and patient. “But it’s been a long day, and I’m really tired. How about a rain check?”

His eyes narrow, and his grip tightens around my arm. A little bit of panic wells up inside of me. I don’t want to hurt him, but no way am I going to let him touch me. I know I should be agreeing to his request. Asking him questions, trying to get the information I need. That was my original plan. But that was before I started focusing on Donny. Now I want to stay as far away from Sean as I can help.

“Let me rephrase that,” Sean says in a tone that brooks no argument. “You’re bedding one of our men at a time when the syndicate is vulnerable. And I don’t trust him to vet someone he’s putting his cock in. So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to have a drink together, and you’re going to answer my questions. Understand?”

Fucking prick. I nod and yank my arm away. “Of course.”

The door opens, and Ronan lurks in the frame, his eyes filled with accusation when he catches me standing with Sean in the small space.

“Ah, perfect timing,” Sean says. “Ronan, fetch us a couple drinks, will ya?”

I shoot Ronan a glare right back, letting him know this is not my doing. He presses his lips together and leaves without a word, of course.

“Come, sit down.” Sean points at the table and chairs in the back corner.

I follow him obediently when all I really want to do is punch him in the kidney. I pull my chair out of arm’s reach of his and sit down, and his eyes spark with annoyance as he watches me. Ronan appears a moment later, two glasses of some kind of whiskey on hand. I take mine and throw it back in one shot, not even caring what it is.

“You can leave now,” Sean barks at Ronan.

He’s still standing beside me, almost protectively, his hesitation obvious. I glance up at him and smile, letting him know I’ve got this. Sean might be Niall’s son, and he might be intimidating to everybody else, but he has another thing coming if he thinks he’s getting his mitts on me.

Ronan’s fists curl up at his sides, but he leaves as requested.

Sean sips on his drink, eyes appraising me over the rim of his glass before he sets it back on the table. “I assume Crow has told you we have a traitor in our midst,” he says. “So this is just normal protocol. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.” I give him a tight smile. Lachlan never told me any such thing. “Ask me anything you want, Mr. MacKenna.”

His eyes flash at the very impersonal reference, and I delight in that a little too much.

“Crow has a tendency to get distracted by a nice pair of tits,” he says, using the excuse to check me out again. “But he gets bored easily. It can be detrimental to the syndicate when he’s bringing strange women into the fold.”

Ha. Would you get a load of this guy?

I lean back in my chair and size him up. He thinks he’s getting to me with this little ploy of his. It probably works with most of the other girls. He upsets them, and then they fall straight into his arms for comfort. It’s sick, really, but it’s also very obvious that Sean feels the need to compete with Lachlan. It doesn’t surprise me. Now that I know Lach’s grandfather is dead, it means that things within the outfit are changing. Niall would probably need to appoint someone else to take his place. At first glance, most would assume Sean had that right. But I get the impression that might not be the case. Niall doesn’t seem like the type to hand anyone anything unless they’ve earned it.

So Sean sees Lachlan as a threat. When I remember how Niall responded to his little display last night, and how defensive he got over Lach, it’s pretty obvious why. But just to test my theory, I decide to goad him a little bit.

“Look, Mr. MacKenna, I’m not one of these danger junkies. I know what Lachlan does. I know about the syndicate, but none of that matters to me. You see, I’m just using him for his cock. It’s huge. Massive, really, and I just love to ride it…”

“Enough!” he slams his fist down on the table.

Point made. I can’t even help the smile that spreads across my face. I’m in dangerous territory here, but this prick has it coming, really. He stews in his anger for a pause before he comes to some sort of a decision. And when he speaks again, his tone is calm and even.

“Funny thing,” he says. “You showing up here, and the next week we have the Armenians busting down our doors. Taking the Russian’s money…” He pauses to emphasize this part, and a seed of suspicion grows inside of me. It’s like he’s purposely trying to tell me too much.

He sits back and crosses his legs. “And now the burden of suspicion is falling on Crow. His own men are starting to doubt his abilities to run this ship smoothly. And do you know what happens when your own men doubt you?”

When I stare across the table at Sean, he doesn’t look like the concerned friend saying these things. He almost looks… satisfied, and it makes me distrust him even more.

“It’s not too hard to guess,” I answer vaguely.

He grins. “No it isn’t.”

“You shouldn’t look so happy at the prospect of something awful happening to your so-called brother,” I snarl. “I don’t think that would fall under your code of loyalty.”

He reaches across the table and grips my face in his hand, squeezing like he wants to crush me.

“Just know I’m going to be watching you,” he sneers. “One wrong move, Mackenzie, and nobody will ever hear from you again.”

I don’t flinch or cower, which is probably what he expects. Instead, I look him in the eye and show him the false respect he so desperately craves. Between him and Donovan, I’m not sure which is worse.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” I assure him. “I’m just here until Lachlan tires of me.”

A smug grin creeps across his face, and he releases me. “That’ll be sooner, rather than later.”

I stand up and smooth out my dress. “Am I free to go now?”

He still has that creepy grin on his face. His eyes rake over me one last time, and he nods. When I open the door, I find Ronan standing right outside, and my dead heart warms a little more. I reach up and ruffle his hair, making him nearly jump out of his skin again.

“Aw, Ronan,” I coo. “Your concern for me is so touching. Think you could take him?”

His eyes follow Sean as he brushes past us whistling a happy tune, and he grabs me by the arm. “Let’s get ye out of here.”

Ronan ushers me out through the back door of the club and towards the car. But before we even make it within twenty feet of it, he freezes and shoves me behind him.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

A spray of gunfire erupts around us, and Ronan tosses us both behind one of the parked cars for cover. He pulls out his gun and tears off his jacket.

“Do I need to answer that?” he grunts in annoyance.

“Nope.” I squeak. “You’re good.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Lachlan

Crack. Crack. Crack.

“They’re like goddamn cockroaches,” Rory yells over the drone of gunfire. “Ye think ye’ve got them all, and they just keep coming out of the woodwork.”

I grunt out my agreement.

The fucking Armenians.

Only a handful of us knew about this meeting with the Russians tonight. Niall’s made certain to keep a tight leash on anything he sends down the pipe. Being that tonight’s affair is taking place in one of the Russian’s own clubs, it’s hard to believe that one of them arranged it. But if history is any indication, I think that’s exactly what happened.

A bullet whizzes past my head. I crouch lower beneath the overturned table, firing back until my clip is empty. Two of their muppets collapse before I have to reload. Only one more clip remains in my pocket. I didn’t expect a fucking war when I came here. We aren’t even making an exchange which leads me to believe one thing. Whoever is giving this information away is purposely trying to unsettle our alliance with the Russians.

Alexei creeps up beside me like a fecking cat. The man is deadly quiet, with the reflexes to match. I suppose he has to be, considering. Viktor will not be happy that his most prized possession is in the middle of this hailstorm of bullets. But Alexei is no slouch in combat.

He fires off six rounds himself, hitting at least three blokes in the process. Then he turns to me and clips out a quick string of Russian. Too quick for me to understand all of it, but I get the gist that there’s some more ammo in the back. Problem is, that’s where half the bleeding gunfire is coming from.

I nod and gesture for Rory to get to Conor. The young one’s practically pissing himself beneath the table he crawled under. Alexei and I go the opposite direction. We creep down the side of the wall using more tables and chairs for cover. When we approach the front door, Alexei makes a gesture to let me know he’s going in through the back. I tell him I’ll cover him from this end and watch him disappear out the door.

In the meantime, I glance around the room to take stock of our lads. All of ours aren’t too bad off, except Conor’s been clipped in the arm. He’ll live. But when I count off the Russians, I don’t find Ivan anywhere. Another pass over the room, and I know something isn’t right about this.

I fish out my phone and try to dial Ronan. Then something hits me from behind. And it isn’t even a goddamned Armenian.

Two of the Russian recruits have got me cornered, knives in hand. They’re only young ones, too young to know any better. I pull off my jacket and toss it aside. They could’ve put a bullet in my head and been done with it, but it’s fairly obvious that isn’t on the agenda. If it’s a fight they’re after, then that’s what they’ll have.

***

“Just give me the goddamn things,” I yell at Rory.

He tosses me the bottle of pills and I wash three of them down with a shot of whiskey. Within moments, the pain ebbs away and delirium takes over.

“Take me home.”

Rory mutters something about the club and my wounds, but I don’t give a bollocks about any of it. My eyes fall shut and my head lolls against the leather seat.

“Mack.”

It’s the only word I can manage to get out. Somewhere in my wrecked state, I know I need to see her. Someone tried to kill her tonight. Tried to kill us both.

When we pull up to the house, Rory and Michael carry me inside and help me down the hall. Ronan starts bitching about my wounds, but I tell him to piss off.

I find the girl tucked into my bed, exactly where she should be. The lads toss my dead weight into the chair in the corner and Mack sits up with wide eyes.

“Lach?” she whispers, her eyes moving over my body in panic. “Jesus.”

She’s up on her feet and bolting to me before I can even ask her to.

“You should have taken him to the fucking hospital!” she yells at Rory.

He gives me a look and rolls his eyes as he shuffles out of the room. I grin and manage to tug Mack onto my lap somehow, my arm wrapping around her waist.

“Ye’re awake, butterfly.”

She nods against my chest. Everything is softer. Or harder. I’m not exactly sure. The lines are blurred, and the Oxy is working its way through my bloodstream, trying to put me to sleep. I just want to be inside of her.

I’m not in the habit of keeping women around, but in my delirium I can admit I’d like to keep this one. My face collapses into her neck with a groan.

“You still smell like me,” I tell her proudly.

She rolls in my arms and presses her lips against my chest, and then my throat.

“You sound surprised,” she murmurs.

My arms tighten around her. “Ronan mentioned that Sean had words with ye.”

“He did,” Mack says. “We had a drink, and I told him how much I love to ride your big cock.”

There’s a huge grin on her face, and a low growl in my throat. That’s my girl.

“So I don’t need to murder him then?” I pull her closer.

“Nope,” she whispers.

“Dance for me,” I plead as my head falls back against the chair. “Ye said ye’d only dance for me.”

My words are slurred, and Mack smiles. It’s a real one, not like the ones she gives everyone else. She’s dead gorgeous when she smiles like that. Her eyes fly to the makeshift bandage wrapped around my arm and the cuts littering my chest.

“You’ve been cut,” she notes. “I need to clean your wounds.”

“After.”

She looks at me and shakes her head, but to my relief, she does as I ask.

“Okay, Lachlan.” She reaches up and palms my face, kissing me on the lips as she turns in my lap.

She grinds her hips down onto me, and I groan. I’m dead weight. I can’t even touch her any more. But she’s never felt better than she does right now. Soft and feminine and warm to all of my hard places.

“Ye’re getting me high, sweetheart,” I tell her.

She smiles back at me. “I think that’s something else, Lach.”

She pulls my tee shirt from over her head, and her breasts bounce as she rolls her hips and feathers her fingers over my neck. At some point, she reaches down and unbuttons my jeans. Then I’m inside of her, and everything else fades away.

I don’t last. I can’t. She makes herself come on me, and then I fill her up with whatever I’ve got left.

She leans back and kisses me on the cheek, her breath warm and sweet.

“I don’t want to give ye away,” I confess in the darkness.

There’s a pause of silence, and I know I’ve fucked up. But Mack just continues to stroke my skin with her fingers, none the wiser.

“Go to sleep, Lachlan. I’ll take care of you.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mackenzie

When I wake up, the space beside me is empty. At least his pillow still smells like him. I roll over and bury my face into the material and inhale. My crazy mobster smells so good.

I had to get Ronan to help me wrestle Lachlan’s ass into bed after I finished cleaning and stitching him. He was bleeding all over the place, but the cuts looked worse than they really were. I can just imagine what the guys who did that to him must look like right about now.

I close my eyes and blow out a breath. Maybe it should bother me, but it doesn’t. I’m quickly learning that nothing about this world is black and white. Someone tried to kill me yesterday. Ronan wouldn’t tell me who it was, but I know he was Russian. Whoever it was ended up fleeing after Ronan hit him in the leg with a bullet. And then Lachlan came home wrecked too. I don’t know what they’re dealing in. But I know that someone is targeting them, and at this point, I don’t even give a fuck who’s doing the shooting. If they are shooting at Lachlan or I, then they’re a threat. Simple as that.

I swallow the pain of my logic and putter to the kitchen, walking a little bit like a cowboy.

Rummaging through the cupboards doesn’t turn up much as usual. Ronan did some grocery shopping, but the man has no taste for anything with sugar in it.

Cornflakes it is, then.

I grab a bowl and sit down at the table across from Ronan, who is already scowling at me for some unknown reason. He’s in fine form this morning.

“Where’s Lach?” I ask.

“He had business to tend.”

“He hardly got any sleep,” I mumble around a mouthful of cereal.

“Welcome to his life,” Ronan answers dryly.

He continues to watch me eat, his eyes narrowed and the wheels in his eerily quiet head turning. By the time my spoon clatters into the empty bowl, I’m about ready to throw it at him.

“You got something you want to say, Ronan?”

I don’t actually expect him to answer. The majority of the time I’m lucky to get a grunt out of him.

“What did Sean say to ye last night?” he asks.

His voice is calm and quiet, but his body is even stiffer than usual. I can just imagine why. Somehow I doubt Lachlan would approve of this conversation.

“The usual,” I answer honestly. “Lach’s a manwhore, he’ll tire of me quickly, there’s a rat… oh and the Armenian’s stole money from the club. The Russians, I believe.”

Ronan stares at me but doesn’t make a peep. I can’t tell what’s going on in that noggin of his, but I know it probably isn’t good. I’m not supposed to know these things. But Sean told them to me for a reason, and I’m curious to find out why.

“He also said Lachlan’s men don’t trust him,” I add.

Ronan slams his fist on the table, and I actually flinch in surprise. He’s one of those scarily calm dudes, the kind that sort of looks like a serial killer or a professor, I can’t decide which. Though he’s always a little broody, I’ve never really seen him angry. Right now though, he looks like he’s about to have a hulk sized meltdown.

“That’s a load’a horse shite,” he snarls. “Those lads aren’t just loyal to the syndicate, they are loyal to Crow.”

“Alright, Ronan,” I tell him. “Just slow your roll. No need to have a coronary over it.”

He glowers, and I continue.

“I know Lach’s men are loyal, you don’t have to tell me. Loyalty is a big thing where I come from too.”

On instinct, my fingers move to touch my necklace, but it isn’t there. My heart jumps into my throat as I feel around my neck with panicked hands.

“What is it?” Ronan asks.

“My necklace!” I shove my chair backwards and bolt to my feet. “It’s not here.”

I can’t help the very raw and real reaction to finding it absent. It’s the only thing that ever meant anything to her. The last connection to Talia. I race back down the hall and start tearing Lachlan’s room apart, searching for it. I’m breathing hard and fast when someone comes in behind me.

“Mack?” Lachlan calls out.

“My necklace,” I choke out. “I can’t find my necklace!”

“I have it right here,” he says.

I wheel around and stare at him in disbelief. Sure enough, the silver chain is dangling between his fingers.

“I had Conor take it to get cleaned this morning,” he says. “It looked like it could do with one.”

“That wasn’t your call!” I snatch the necklace back from him and clench it with a shaking hand.

He’s staring at me like I’m a frigging lunatic, and I know there are tears leaking down my face. I don’t care. Let him think me weak. When my eyes move to the heart-shaped pendant in my hand I want to scream out my frustration. It doesn’t look the same. It’s not the same. It’s all shiny and clean and new looking, but that wasn’t how Talia left it.

“You shouldn’t have done this!” I yell. “If it’s not broke, don’t try to fix it. Hasn’t anyone told you that?”

I don’t know what I expect when he stalks towards me, but when he pulls me into his arms and presses me against his chest, it isn’t that. He’s rubbing my back, holding me close… and comforting me. It’s too surreal to believe.

“Come, sweetheart.”

He pulls me onto the bed and lets me curl up in his lap. I’m still sniffling against him, and I’m embarrassed. God, I can’t believe how badly I just let my emotions show. Lachlan’s kissing away my tears and being unexpectedly sweet and gentle with me.

“It won’t happen again,” he says. “I thought I was doing something good for ye.”

Part of me feels guilty for the tension in his voice. It was a kind gesture, but he doesn’t understand what this necklace means to me. It’s like now there’s nothing left of Talia. All the old has been stripped away, and I didn’t want that. She wasn’t shiny and perfect. She was tarnished just like me. But I can’t blame Lachlan for not knowing that.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

Lach wipes my tears away and shakes his head. “Grab yourself a shower, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m taking ye out today.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Mackenzie

Some men take their women to the movies, shopping, or out to dinner. Mine? He takes me to a boxing gym. And I grin like a lunatic when we step inside.

“You going to spar with me?” I ask.

He laughs. “If that’s what ye want, sweetheart.”

“What about your cuts?”

He gives me a look, and a couple of the guys around us chuckle too.

“Don’t insult me, Mack.”

I smile and shake my head. I know he’s taking time out of his schedule to do this. Time he probably doesn’t have, considering the Armenians are still breathing down his neck, and all the problems back at the club. So when I look up at him, I’m overcome by a wave of emotion. I reach up on my toes and plant a kiss right on his lips, in front of all the other guys. Lachlan likes this of course.

“Go and get changed.” He hands me the bag I packed and points to the back. With a slap on the ass I’m on my way.

When I come back out, dressed in my workout gear, Lachlan’s talking to another guy. I hardly notice who it is because Lach’s got his shirt off, and nothing but a pair of low hanging black track pants. I’m nearly salivating at the mouth just looking at him. I’m sure there are some good looking guys in this room. It’s chocka block with nothing but testosterone and sweat. But all I can see is Lachlan. I love how much bigger he is than me. How when he holds me at night, I feel small and safe in his arms. It’s crazy. But looking at him now, I can’t find a single flaw from his tattoos to the gold medal dangling from his chest. Everything about his body is addicting. Strong and lean with a flat stomach and hip bones that angle towards his glorious manhood. Some crazy part of my brain wants to demand that he walk around like this all the time.

“Mack, c’mere,” he says.

I walk towards him dutifully and he tugs me into his side with an expression of pride on his face as he introduces me.

“Jimmy, this is Mack.”

“Lovely to meet ye.” Jimmy nods. “I hear ye’re a boxer?”

I look up at Lachlan and grin. “Sometimes,” I say sweetly.

Lach’s laughing again. It sounds nice. It doesn’t happen often.

“Well youse two can have the ring for however long ye need it,” Jimmy says. “Or any other equipment ye want to use.”

Hmm another benefit of being with Lachlan. Not having to wait our turn at the gym. I doubt there’s a man in here who would dare to refuse him a request. But as I glance around at a few of the familiar faces from within the syndicate, I realize the gym is probably one of theirs.

Jimmy leaves us to it, and Lach helps me into some gloves. Over the next hour, we have at it, and I love that he doesn’t hold back with me. We draw an audience with our laughter and competitive insults after a while. He’s light on his feet and outmaneuvers me almost every time. I’m impressed with his strength and even more with his hot body, but I won’t tell him that.

By the time we finish, Lachlan and I are both covered in sweat, and I’m too proud to say he’s exhausted me. We share a bottle of water, and then he slaps me on the ass again.

“Let’s hit the showers, sweetheart.”

I glance around the room full of men, and he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, I got us covered.”

He grabs my hand and gives Jimmy a little nod as we head into the changing room. I’m assuming that’s some sort of signal to tell everyone else to fuck off, but I don’t get a chance to ask. The minute we’re inside, he’s got me pressed up against the wall, grinding his body on mine.

“Mack,” he groans as he kisses his way down my throat. “I’m so fecking hard for ye, sweetheart.”

To prove his point, he grabs my hand and presses it over the bulge in his pants. He isn’t lying, it’s like a frigging rock. I glance over at the open entryway into the change room and bite my lip.

“Someone could hear us,” I protest half-heartedly.

Lachlan’s eyes flash and he grins. “Oh I want them to hear us, butterfly. I want all the lads to know who’s inside of ye. The only man that’ll ever be inside of ye.”

“You don’t own me,” I laugh.

He captures my wrists and holds them above my head with one hand while the other pulls down my shorts. “Aye,” he grunts. “I fucking do.”

I smile back at his caveman bullshit in spite of myself. There’s no denying I like feeling a little bit helpless when he’s around.

It’s clear by the laser focus of his eyes and hands he’s done talking. Once my shorts are off, he yanks down his pants and wraps my legs around his waist. Then he grabs me by the hips and drops me onto his cock, using my back and the wall for leverage.

Before he moves, his eyes find mine and something in his expression changes.

“I know ye’ve had to be tough all your life, sweetheart,” he says. “But ye don’t have to do that with me. I’ll protect ye, and on occasion boast because ye’re mine. That’s just the way it goes.”

I bite back the wave of emotion his words bring on. It’s something I’ve always wanted, though I’m too proud to admit it. How long has it been since I had someone looking out for me too? Since I didn’t have to worry about the dangers lurking around every corner. That’s what Lachlan’s promising me. And right here and now, for a moment, I pretend that I can have it.

He fucks me hard. Harder than he’s ever fucked me. And just as I suspect he wants, I’m screaming when I come. The whole goddamn gym probably heard it. Lach’s still powering into me, and I can’t stop myself from stroking over his muscular chest and shoulders. He’s so incredibly hot. And he wants me. I reach forward and suck on his neck, tasting his salt and skin. He groans, and I suck harder.

He grips my ass and impales himself as deep as he can go before he jerks inside of me, swearing like a sailor. I pull away from his neck with a pop, smiling at the hickey I left for all the world to see.

“Oops.”

Lachlan grins and kisses me hard, holding me up with his arms. I don’t know where he’s finding the strength after everything we’ve done today. On top of that he’s still wounded, and it’s the last thing he should be doing. I slide down his body until my feet touch the floor

“Right.” He grabs my hand in his. “Now let’s hit the showers.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mackenzie

Another week passes without a whole lot of leads. I’ve been bored out of my mind hanging around the club, and Lachlan’s had Ronan at my side the entire time which I can totally tell he just looooves. I did however manage to get Sasha onboard with my plan. She agreed to let me know if she sees the Russian that was hanging around Talia. The longer I spend here, the more I gain her trust. It can only help that I’m keeping Donovan away from her.

So far dickhead has been avoiding the place, but he’s here tonight. I’m sitting at the bar waiting for Lachlan to get back when I notice Donny slinking towards the dressing room. Since Sasha’s on first, he no doubt expects her to be back there getting ready. Too bad for him that I’ve put a little wrinkle in his plan. I’m ready for him, and honestly, I’ve been counting down the minutes for this.

Every day for the last week we’ve taken over one of the downstairs storage areas and turned it into a makeshift dressing room for Sasha only. I made up a whole story about the other girls being bitchy as an excuse. Lach grumbled about it for all of two seconds before I used my lips to coerce him into it. Secretly, I don’t think he actually minds since he thinks Sasha and I are bonding. As it turns out, Lachlan is quite busy with his mobster activities, and me having a friend here gives him some peace of mind. Probably because he thinks it’ll keep me out of trouble. Hah.

While Ronan is engrossed in conversation with Conor, I slip off my bar stool and follow Donovan into the back. When he hears my footsteps behind him, he wheels around and glares at me.

“What the fuck you lookin’ at?”

Sheesh, someone’s touchy today. I can’t help but annoy him further with a smile.

“Looking for Sash?” I ask. “You won’t find her back here.”

He takes a step forward and flexes his arms, looking like a total cockhead. “What’s it to you what I’m doing, huh?”

I hold my ground and shrug. “Nothin’ to me. But you’re going to leave Sasha the hell alone from now on.”

His eyes flash with annoyance and he barks out a laugh. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talkin’ to?”

I reach forward and slam my hands against his chest, knocking him back in surprise.

“C’mon,” I goad him. “You like to smack girls around? Go on, give me your best shot. But unlike the ones you pick on, I promise I’ll fight back.”

Every muscle in his body is rippling with tension and his veins look like they’re about to explode. But he doesn’t move. “Big words coming from Crow’s little whore. You think he’s going to protect you forever, you got another thing coming.”

“I don’t see him here now.” I throw my arms out wide. “So, if you want to act like a big, tough man, then go right ahead.”

His eyes tell me he wants to. The fact that I’m under Lach’s protection pisses him off more than anything. He knows he can’t touch me and still live to tell about it, so he’s holding back. For now. But I don’t trust that it’s going to stay that way for long.

“You’re going to regret this,” he growls. “You dumb fucking broad.”

“Is there a problem here?”

I wheel around to find Lachlan, his focus narrowed dangerously on Donovan. I glance back at Donny and wink.

“I don’t know, Donny. Do we have a problem here?”

“No problem,” he barks out. “I was just telling Mack here how lucky she is to have you. That’s all.”

With a twisted sneer, he leaves the room, humming a little tune as he goes. Way too happily for my liking. I turn to find Lach still staring at the door Donny walked through, almost as if he’s debating going after him.

“You tell me if he gives ye any trouble, Mack,” he says.

“Aw.” I flutter my eyelashes at him. “Are you going to defend my honor?”

He walks up and pulls me into his arms, his expression dead serious. “Always, sweetheart.”

***

The incident with Donny has left me with my hackles up, but it’s only confirmed that Lachlan is serious. He’s not going to let me out of his sight, and he has every intention of protecting me. This is going to be a problem.

So I do the one thing that I swore I wouldn’t. It isn’t often I admit defeat, but in this situation, there’s no choice. I’ve tried to do things my way, mostly because I didn’t want to drag anyone else into it, and I’ve been saving all of my money until I could get the job here. But this is a case where I’d consider the expense a necessity. There’s an ex-cop turned PI who I think might be able to get me the information I’m looking for. The only problem is, I won’t be able to see him myself.

When I finally get a moment alone in Lach’s office, I pull out my cell phone and call Scarlett.

“Hey babe,” she answers. “It’s about damn time you called me.”

“Sorry,” I whisper. “But it’s been a little difficult.”

“Yeah, I figured,” she says. “So how’s it going?”

“Well, not great,” I answer honestly. “They’ve got eyes on me all the time, and… well, I’m going to need your help.”

“Thank God,” she sighs. “I’ve been bored out of my mind. Tell me what I can do for you.”

I glance at the door, knowing Lachlan will be back any second and spit it out. “I need you to go see my guy in the Dot. Tell him I need anything he can get me on Donovan O’Shea.”

Scarlett laughs, and I can hear her scrawling down a note, like she might somehow forget. I know she won’t, she’s sharper than I am. “Alright, babe.”

“Take whatever you need from my safe for payment,” I tell her. “And I will contact you, okay. Not the other way around.”

“Got it.”

The door swings open, and Lach gives me a curious look when he sees me on the phone. I flash him a smile and try not to draw suspicion.

“Okay, grandma,” I say. “I have to go now. You take care and give gramps a hug for me.”

Scarlett snorts on the other line. “Yeah, sure thing, babe. I’ll get right on that.”

A click of the line, and I shove my phone back in my purse and cross my legs as Lach stalks around his desk and sits down in his chair.

“I thought your grandparents were dead,” he says.

“They are. But those are just some foster parents I stayed with for a while. Closest thing to family I’ve got left.”

Lachlan accepts my explanation without any more suspicion, which makes me feel both relieved and guilty at the same time.

“Come up here.” He pats the surface of his desk.

I grin and stand up, walking towards him slowly. Since the first night he took me, I’ve learned a thing or two about Lachlan Crow. He loves morning sex. Then again, he loves it anytime, really. Night or day. And he’s already made good on a few of his promises about his office. We have yet to christen his car though.

Things between us are crazy hot. Whatever hope I held for getting it out of my system is long gone now. I still don’t know if he’s banging anybody behind my back. I’m too afraid to ask. Too afraid of all the different feelings I’ve got running rampant inside of me. There’s a reason I generally keep people at a distance, and this is it. But there is no shield for Lachlan. No armor strong enough to keep him out.

When he looks at me now, his eyes hungry and fierce as I sit down before him, I know more than ever that it’s true. I underestimated what it would feel like to have someone look at me that way. Not just someone but him. He’s waking something inside of me. He’s breathing life into me. And I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t think I want it to stop.

His palms glide up my thighs, pushing the material of my dress up as he goes. The gray of his irises expand and swell as he grabs my ass and brings me to the edge of the desk. He splays my legs open and then steps between them, closing the distance between us.

“I’m having a shite of a day, Mack.” He grips my hair in his fist. “And I want ye to make it better.”

“Anything for you,” I whisper.

He kisses me. And then he has my hand, dragging it over the bulge in his jeans. I grip his hot cock and rub, jacking him off through the material. Almost instantly, his eyes fall half shut, and he lets out an agonized sound.

He looks a little off balance today. More on edge than I’m used to seeing him. And I know things must be really bad. He needs this. He needs me to take his stress away. I want to.

I tug on his zipper and slip my hand inside of his briefs, stroking him hard and rough the way he likes. He isn’t moving. He’s hardly even breathing. His eyes are closed and he’s just enjoying the moment. I slip down on my knees before him and he smiles. I already know what he’s thinking.

“You’re the only man I’ll ever bow down to like this,” I tell him.

I didn’t think he could get any harder, but I was wrong. He grips my hair and pulls my mouth all the way down on his shaft until I’m flush with his pelvis.

“Ah, Christ sweetheart,” he sighs.

And then he’s face fucking me. Hard and fast and all I can do is hold onto his thigh and squeeze his ass with my other hand. He drags my mouth up and down his shaft, making those noises that I love. I’m obsessed with those sounds, knowing that I caused them. Lach’s never looked sexier than he does right now. He’s looking down at me like I’m his savior, and I can’t fucking handle it. I want to be his relief. I want to be so many things to him, but not his savior. Because I’m not.

A tear escapes my eye, and I tell myself that it’s just from him gagging me. He grabs my head and pushes me all the way down on his cock while he blows his load inside my mouth.

“Take it,” he grunts.

I slavishly do as he says. And even when his grip has relaxed, and he’s stroking my hair, I’m still sucking on him. Taking care of him. What the fuck is wrong with me?

He’s hardly softened at all. And somehow I know that isn’t going to be the last of it. Just as I suspect, he bends down and pulls me back up to the desk, resting my ass right on the edge. And then he kneels until his face is right between my legs. He gives me a little shove until I fall back on my elbows and I’m staring up at the ceiling.

And then his mouth is on me, sucking, licking, biting at me. I don’t want to enjoy it because a part of me feels like I don’t deserve this. But when he pushes his tongue inside of me, my brain shuts off completely.

My breath quickens. My pulse flutters. My back snaps backwards as he buries his face between my legs. I hate him. I hate him for making me feel this way. So confused. So off balance. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

I reach down and stroke his hair anyway. Fuck. I’ve never felt so conflicted. All of my frustrations, my confusion, my arousal… they combine to form an atomic bomb inside of me. And when it goes off, I scream out his name.

I collapse back onto the desk, and without any pause he’s pushing inside of me. Despite my exhaustion, my body sucks him in greedily. Lach groans and then pulls me backwards until we both collapse in the chair.

He pins my arms behind my back and licks my nipples until I can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck, these tits,” he grunts. “I love these goddamn tits.”

He’s always saying that. I smile at him and he kisses me hard.

“Move your hips for me,” he murmurs roughly.

I know what he wants, so I give it to him. A lap dance on his cock. He leans back and enjoys the show while I roll my hips in circles and feel him swelling even more inside of me.

“Ye’re dead gorgeous, sweetheart,” he says. “I love watching ye this way.”

“I’m the only one, right?” the words slip from my mouth before I can stop them.

Lachlan groans and wraps his fingers around my hips, taking control as he fucks me hard.

“Ye’re the only one, butterfly.” The words come between thrusts. “The only one I want.”

When I open my eyes and meet his, I believe him. He’s being open and honest right now, lost in the rush of ecstasy. I doubt he could string together a lie right now if he wanted to. And my heart feels lighter. So when he buries his face in my neck and comes again, I do something I can’t recall ever doing before. I wrap my arms around his waist and I hug him.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lachlan

“Hold up.” I tap at the screen. “Right there.”

Alexei freezes the image and works his magic on it. After several more clicks and buttons, the image comes clear. Ivan. He said something to the Armenians before he legged it out of the club that day. And then they lit the place up with bullets.

Alexei leans back in his chair on a sigh. “He doesn’t know about the cameras,” he confirms. “Viktor had them installed after one of our own started skimming from us.”

“So he hasn’t a clue that we’re aware of his betrayal?”

Alexei shakes his head and reaches for the cognac. “I couldn’t say. He hasn’t been around for a week now. Viktor is not happy.”

My fingers tap the wood desk in agitation. This news should come as a relief. Now we know for certain Ivan is the one feeding information to the Armenians. But it still doesn’t explain how he got the information. Ivan is just a soldier, and not one who’s privy to the details of every meeting or drop.

Then there’s still the matter of the ballistics report from my grandfather. Something about it doesn’t feel right. It’s too clean. Too easy. Ivan is a bloody idiot, but I don’t see him having reason to kill Carrick. There has to be more to it than that.

A part of me wants to explain it away. Maybe it was an accident. Our lads don’t get hit from friendly fire often, but it has occurred before. This doesn’t feel like one of those situations, no matter which angle I look at it from.

“Niall will want to meet.”

Alexei nods. “I’ll let Viktor know.”

He offers me a glass of cognac and I take it.

“I’m likely to catch heat for this,” I tell him.

He looks ups at me, and there’s a bit of humor in his always serious eyes. I’ve always thought Alexei too weak when it comes to women. He can see now that I’m afflicted with the same madness.

“He’ll want to make the trade soon.”

I swallow everything that’s in my glass and allow it to burn my insides up.

This.

This is the reason why I don’t want to accept that Ivan’s responsible. I can’t let her go. But I’ve no choice. Alexei looks at me, and he knows. He knows full well exactly what he’s done to me.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“Then that makes two of us.” He shrugs and raises his glass to mine.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Mackenzie

After another week in Lachlan’s bed and life, the lines are starting to blur even more than I care to admit. When I walk into the bathroom and catch him shaving, it feels familiar. The steam is still evaporating from his shower, filled with the scent of his body wash. Everywhere I look, our things are scattered and strewn together. A tube of my lipstick, his aftershave… a laundry basket filled with his jeans and my lace underthings.

Every day, this is our routine. We wake up and he sinks inside of me, desperately trying to put a dent in the ravenous hunger we have for each other’s flesh. It doesn’t work. The thing I thought I’d be able to get out of my system is only growing stronger. I know it is for him too. Sometimes he takes me twice before we end up in the shower together. We take our time cleaning each other and then I sit up here and do my makeup while he shaves.

He's let his guard down around me. When he looks at me now, there’s no longer suspicion, but something else. It feels comfortable. And it feels like home.

It shouldn’t.

He's infiltrating my thoughts, my soul, my very life force... wrapping his fingers around them and squeezing. Every time I question my feelings, I think I must be going crazy. The things Lach is involved in… they aren’t new to me. I know men like him. I’ve known them all my life.

They’re men like my father. Men who think they’re invincible. He was reckless and dangerous, and it never bothered me that our house was always filled with rough and tumble guys. Because he was my hero. And heroes aren’t supposed to die.

But he did.

And some day, be it tomorrow, or a year from now… Lachlan will too. Because that’s the business he deals in. It’s written in their creed.

Family, loyalty, honor, and blood.

I’m under no false conclusions. You live for the syndicate, you die for the syndicate. That’s just the way it is. Someday, Lachlan will give his life for this crew. He will be gone, just like the rest of the people in my life. And then where will I be? Why have I tethered myself to this man that’s only going to hurt me in the end?

I’m watching him, and I know he feels it, but he doesn’t say anything. He just goes about his business, letting me take him in. There’s so much more to him than I realized. I never stopped to consider him as a person. I never stopped to consider what it was actually like for him to live this way.

Sean’s words from earlier come back to haunt me. The burden of suspicion is on Lach. His own men don’t trust him. I knew he was stressed about the shit with the Armenians, but I didn’t know how deep it went. Now, here I am, full submersed in it. I worry about him leaving and not coming back. Every time he walks out the door, I want to beg him to stay. But that’s a luxury I don’t have, and an unrealistic one at that.

At some point, he’s going to figure out I’ve betrayed him. At some point, he’ll figure out everything was a lie. And he will hate me for it. He’ll probably want me dead. Even just thinking about it, my eyes feel glassy. The tiny, weak part of my brain that controls my emotions wants to break down and confess everything now. To beg him for forgiveness and believe that he’d tell me the truth about Talia.

“Ye’re staring,” he says finally. There’s a small smile on his face, and despite the darkness in my heart, it makes me smile too.

“Can’t help it.” I shrug. “You’re just too pretty.”

He grunts and pries my legs apart, pulling me to the edge of the counter as he pushes his body as close to mine as the space will allow.

“Don’t go to work today.” I smooth my hands over his chest. “Cracking skulls and criminal enterprises can wait.”

I’m fully prepared to use my feminine wiles to state my case as my hand drifts lower and lower. But he captures my wrist and stops me.

“I’m not going into Slainte today,” he says. “And neither are you.”

I blink up at him. “We aren’t?”

“Nah. We have a thing tonight.”

A thing? He’s nervous, and I’m not sure why. This is the first I’m hearing about plans tonight. “What kind of thing?”

“A gathering for Niall,” he says. “It’s his birthday.”

“Oh.”

Now I realize why he’s so nervous. This is an official gathering. And for him to bring me makes a big statement. From everything I’ve learned about his outfit, I know that Niall is very selective about who he allows in his company. He has to be I’m sure. A man like him doesn’t trust just anybody.

I’m torn between feeling excited at the prospect of getting deeper into the organization and the guilt eating away at me. Lachlan wouldn’t have any ulterior motive for doing this other than that he wants me there beside him. He’s vouching for me, and I don’t know what will happen to him if anyone discovers the truth about my motives.

He leans in and kisses me, stirring the whirlwind of emotions inside of me into a raging tornado. I pull him against me and devour him. Lach isn’t complaining. And when I slip off the counter and go down on my knees before him, his eyes are burning with white hot lust.

I unzip his jeans and pull him free, his cock falling heavy into my palm. I suck him into my mouth while I clutch his muscular ass in my hands.

“Jaysus,” he grunts, leaning forward to brace himself on the counter while I strive to give him the best blowjob of his life.

It doesn’t take long before he empties himself inside of my mouth with a growl, and then he stumbles back into the wall, looking dazed.

“Fecks sake, sweetheart,” he pants. “Ye’re something else, ye know that?”

I smile up at him. He looks so relaxed. So at ease around me. Nothing like the man who wanted nothing to do with me at the start. Please don’t ever hate me, Lachlan.

He helps me to my feet and zips himself back up before he slaps me on the ass.

“Get ready,” he orders. “We need to sort ye out a dress.”

***

After lunching at a posh wine café in the Back Bay, Lach takes me to none other than Newberry Street for the afternoon. This is the crème de la crème of shopping, and stuff I wouldn’t normally ever buy. But Lachlan insists I go designer for tonight’s event, and I can’t refuse him.

I end up settling on a sexy black evening gown with a split clean up my thigh. It’s gorgeous, and even more so paired with the black stilettos. Once Lachlan saw me in it, he refused to look at anything else.

After retouching my makeup and spending another twenty minutes on my hair, I find both him and Ronan dressed in suits. Lachlan looks ridiculously handsome and slightly dangerous, and a crazy part of me feels proud to be on his arm tonight.

He escorts me to the car that Ronan uses, which is a nondescript black BMW. We climb inside and almost immediately Lach starts doing that thing with his fingers again, tapping them against his leg.

I reach down and grab his hand, threading my fingers through his.

“You don’t have to worry,” I tell him. “I’ll be on my best behavior tonight. No choke holds or any other funny business.”

He nods, but still doesn’t relax. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell ye Mack how tense things are at the moment. Niall doesn’t know who to trust. But it’s important to me that he trusts you.”

I swallow and give him a shaky smile. “I understand.”

The rest of the car ride is filled with silence. Lachlan’s probably sorting out his agenda for the evening while I wonder where I should go from here. This is taking too long. The longer I’m in this, the harder it’s going to be to get out. The more likely that Lach’s going to get hurt. I need to step up my game plan some other way, but I’m really not sure how to do that.

When we arrive and Ronan parks the car, I’m surprised to find tonight’s shindig is being held at an upscale lounge inside a hotel.

“Niall wanted a public location this year,” Lach explains as he takes my hand and leads me inside.

I walk through the lobby with him and Ronan at my sides like sentinels, and sure enough there are plenty of glances cast our way. The men beside me exude power and danger and even a dash of sophistication when they’re dressed as they are. The women toss long glances our way while the men sigh and wish they could be like them, if only for a night.

They lead us through a set of hallways and into a private lounge that must have been booked for the occasion. The lighting is soft and ambient, the walls muted shades of gray and crimson. The oak floors gleam beneath the candlelight, and across the room half of the tables are already filled. It throws me off balance to see just how deep the organization runs, guessing that there must be at least fifty men here tonight.

Lachlan leads me around the room to make introductions. After the tenth unfamiliar face that I meet, a little bit of panic seeps into my chest. Any one of these men could have visited the club and met Talia. I never realized the full scale of this outfit, or even their Russian alliance for that matter. Defeat weighs heavy on my shoulders. There’s no way I can ever find out who all these men are and clear their names off my list. It would take me years.

“How’s the big size a ye, mate?” an older gentleman asks Lach.

Lachlan slaps him on the shoulder and they banter back and forth for a few moments before the man’s eyes fall on me.

“Well would you look at that!”

I glance up at Lachlan, and he’s grinning.

“Look at what?” I ask.

“Black hair and blue eyes,” the man says.

“She’s a treat,” Lach agrees, stroking his fingers over my neck possessively as his eyes lock onto mine. “My Galway Girl.”

For a moment, I forget everything else around us. The pride in his voice is unmistakable, the affection in his eyes authentic. My heart squeezes and then explodes inside of my chest.

“Ye’ve got yourself a real fine one there, lad,” the man agrees, but something in his voice is off as he nods behind us. “But ye best go see Niall now, he’s expecting ye.”

Both Lachlan and I turn, and his entire body tenses when our eyes fall on the table across the room. Niall’s there, sitting beside a woman who I presume to be his wife. But beside him is another man. An unmistakably powerful man with brown hair and a cold gaze that’s fixed directly on Lachlan. My eyes roam over the table in confusion, noting the three beautiful blonde girls sitting next to the man, with an empty space between them. Two empty spaces.

I glance up at Lachlan and try to understand what’s happening.

“Fucking Christ,” he grunts, his eyes finding mine.

I don’t like what I see there. Regret. He’s regretting bringing me here, but I don’t understand why. Before we even get a chance to discuss it, another man appears with a serious expression on his face.

“Dom…” Lachlan greets him, and a silent thought passes between them. Dom’s eyes fall to me, and he gestures to the bar across the room.

“Why don’t you come meet my wife, Cara?” he suggests. “She always gets bored at these functions and would love the company if you don’t mind.”

I glance back up at Lach, and he’s avoiding eye contact. Something about this feels really weird, but it’s obvious he wants me out of the way for whatever reason. So I nod and follow Dom across the room.

Cara looks like she might be just a couple years older than me, with long chestnut hair and green eyes. She smiles when I take a seat beside her, and then Dom just disappears.

“Hey,” she says. “It’s Mackenzie, right?”

“Yeah, but you can just call me Mack.”

She nods and flags down the bartender, and we both order a drink before she turns her attention back to me.

“I can see why Lachlan likes you,” she says. “You seem like you’d suit him.”

“Thanks.” I give her a forced smile and then glance back at the man in question.

He’s now seated between two of the blondes at Niall’s table. And something inside of me breaks a little at the sight of it.

“They aren’t nearly as pretty as you,” she says solemnly. “It’s such an archaic thing, isn’t it? What Niall wants him to do. I just don’t understand it.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I’m liking the sound of it even less by the minute. And I know if I let on that I don’t know, she’ll probably shut up. So I need to keep her talking. I decide to try to play off what Lachlan and I have as casual.

“It doesn’t bother me,” I tell her. “Lach and I are just messing around.”

“I figured,” she says. “He wouldn’t have brought you if he’d known they would be here tonight.”

I force out a jerky nod. “I am curious though, naturally. How is it going to work?”

She glances back across the room, and I follow her gaze reluctantly. Sean is now sitting on the opposite side of one of the girls, but they are all focused on Lachlan. Like he’s a prize to be won. And I don’t like it. I don’t like it one fucking bit.

“I guess Niall will choose between Lachlan and Sean soon,” Cara says. “And then whoever becomes the underboss chooses one of them as a wife. Once they’re married, the alliance will be sealed.”

The entire room spins around me, and I have to grip the bar to hold on. Cara gives me a curious look, and I try to smile.

I’ve been so fucking stupid. These last few months, I’ve been getting so wrapped up in Lachlan. Using Talia as my excuse to get close to him. I’ve let him under my skin. Inside of me. And he’s been playing me this entire time. My heart- the one I swore I didn’t have- feels like it just dropped out of my chest. I’m struggling to breathe, to even sit upright. There’s pressure behind my eyes, but I can’t let onto it. I need to get a frigging grip.

When I meet Lach’s eyes across the room, he looks away in shame. And it steels me with all of the ammunition I need. The bitter reminder of what I’m doing here and how little he means to me. In fact, I’m glad this happened. This is exactly what my father tried to warn me about. How people will always fuck you over. He was right.

And I’m done playing with Lachlan. Fuck him. I’m here to find out what happened to Talia. And I don’t care who I have to hurt now to do it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Cara says softly. “It’s how did I get myself into this, right?”

“He means nothing to me,” I tell her again.

She gives me a look that says she doesn’t quite believe it, so I change the subject. One thing I’ve learned is that people are generally satisfied to talk about themselves, and Cara’s no exception to that rule. When I ask her how she met Dominic, she prattles on for the next twenty minutes about it while I down two glasses of Patron.

“So you don’t have a problem living this life?” I ask when she comes up for air.

She shrugs and starts tearing at the napkin beneath her cocktail glass. “It’s not so bad. I mean, I know most people wouldn’t agree with it. I grew up with the Italians, so I know this world. I know what it involves. But these guys, right here? They’re good men. They don’t deal in anything that I’m losing sleep over.”

The conviction in her voice almost has me believing it for a moment. It’s obvious she believes it. So where does that leave me? I want to ask her more about it, but I think I might need to ply her with a little more alcohol first. I order us another round and continue.

“So you’ve never had any problems with them?”

“No way,” she says. “They treat their women good, as long as you play by the rules.”

There’s that contingency. As long as you play by the rules.

“I know it can be pretty overwhelming at first,” she says. “But you get used to it after a while. I couldn’t ask for a better man than Dom. These guys protect and cherish their women, I’ll tell you that much.”

“He seems like a good guy,” I agree. It’s complete crap, because at this moment I’ve decided to hate all men. But I need to make Cara feel like a friend so I can get more information out of her.

The bartender delivers our drinks and we talk for another ten minutes before the alcohol starts to affect Cara.

“Ugh,” she groans. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Yeah, me too.” I help her to her feet and make the journey with her, knowing that normal females my age love to do this kind of stuff together for some odd reason. When I glance across the room, Lach’s engrossed in conversation with one of the pretty blondes. Fuck him. Fuck them both.

I don’t bother to tell anyone where we’re going. We’ll only be a few minutes and the bathroom is just outside the hall.

Once inside, I go about my business and continue to talk through the stall. Cara is being very quiet, and I worry I may have gotten her too drunk. But when I fix my dress and step outside, I see exactly why she’s being quiet.

Two men are inside the bathroom with us, and one’s got a gun pressed against her temple, while the other is pointing at me. Both the guns have silencers attached, and somehow I know without asking these guys are part of the Armenian crew. I glance at Cara and she’s shaking like a leaf.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. There’s no way for me to try to defend myself while they’re holding her like that. They’d put a bullet in her head before I could even finish dealing with the first guy. Assuming I didn’t get shot too in the process.

“You’re coming with us,” the man pointing at me barks. “Move quietly, or your friend here dies.”

Cara releases a sob, and it earns her a hard slap to the face. Fricken hell. There’s no way out of this without following their demands until they let their guard down.

“It’s okay, Cara,” I tell her in a soothing tone. “Just stay calm and do as they say.”

She shoots me a pleading glance and I give her a reassuring smile though inside I’m a nervous wreck. I know the likelihood of us surviving once we leave this building is not very good. But there’s little choice in the matter at this point. I’m suspicious as hell that we were literally in the bathroom for two minutes before they came for us. Almost like they were waiting or someone alerted them. Something I’ll have to think about later.

I step forward and the other man grabs me by the arm. They lead us from the bathroom and down the hallway towards a side exit, digging the guns into our ribs.

“Scream and you die,” one of them threatens.

I think of Lachlan inside the party sitting with his pretty marriage prospects. Will he even notice I’m gone? Maybe not. But Cara is a wife, and that’s something. Dom will notice. And then what? They’ll have to find us. That will take time. I can’t count on that. I watch both men carefully as we walk, trying to look for any opportunity I can. It doesn’t come.

At the end of the hall, two of Niall’s men are slumped face down into the carpet. I don’t have to see the bullet holes to know they’re already dead. These guys are fricken crazy, coming in here like this and shooting people up in a hotel. Panic is slowly engulfing me, but I can do nothing. If I didn’t believe it before, I know now they won’t hesitate to put a bullet inside of us too. My only hope is that they’re going to use us for ransom or something. Anything that will keep us alive for a while until I can figure out what to do.

The moment we’re out the side door, we’re tossed into the back of a van and burning rubber down a back street. Cara’s practically hyperventilating and can barely keep it together as they tie us up. I worry that they’ll shoot her if she keeps at it.

“Cara,” I whisper. “You have to stay calm okay?”

“Shut up!” one of the men bellows at me.

Then he says something in a different language, and the other one nods. I don’t understand what it is until it’s too late. Until he moves behind me and slams the butt of his gun into the back of my skull.

Chapter Thirty

Mackenzie

My entire body feels like it’s weighted down with lead as I come to. Something loud and awful keeps echoing off the space I’m in. Whatever it is, it’s amplified.

It takes me a minute to realize it’s crying. Not really crying, but painful sobbing. When I blink my eyes open, I’m met by the sight of Cara’s frightened face across from me. She’s laying on her side, still bound, staring at me with sheer terror.

The crying isn’t coming from her because she’s gagged now. So am I, I realize. Wherever we are is dimly lit, the smell of salt and rust invading my nostrils. As my eyes adjust and I glance around, I realize we’re in a fucking shipping container. With at least ten other women, who are all bound and gagged like us.

I wiggle my arms, which are completely numb, and I can’t budge them at all. The rope they used to tie us is impossibly tight around both my wrists and ankles. It’s the most uncomfortable and awkward position to be laying in, and I’m completely defenseless unless I can figure out a way to loosen them.

While I work on wiggling my wrists back and forth, my eyes dart around for the source of that awful noise. It isn’t just sobbing now, but grunting too. And finally, I find it. In one of the shadowed corners of the metal death box we’re trapped in, a man is pumping his hips in and out of a girl who’s half bent over a folding table, her pants down around her ankles.

A murderous rage builds up inside me when I realize what’s happening right in front of me. This fucking pig is taking her while she’s bound and completely defenseless. Meanwhile, his companion is just sitting there watching the whole event with a bored expression.

A sound of protest rips from my chest, and both men look my way. They speak in rapid-fire Armenian before the one standing guard walks towards me. The closer he draws near, the more I realize my mistake. I can do nothing to help this girl. Absolutely fucking nothing because I’m bound like a goddamn pig in this filthy shit hole.

He reaches down and pulls the gag from my lips so I can speak.

“They’re going to murder you,” I snarl. “They will tear you apart, limb from fucking limb.”

The man laughs and hoists me up like ragdoll. He says something again in his foreign tongue, and the other man laughs too. And then he’s dragging me across the container, trying to shove me face first over a chair. I buck and fight against him every step of the way, but it’s nearly impossible with the restrictions on my body. He loosens the binds around my ankles enough to spread my legs before he spins me around and shoves me over the chair. When he starts to hike the material of my dress up around my waist, I stomp on his boot and then throw my head back into his face with a satisfying crunch.

Turns out, he doesn’t like that so much. He grabs me and hurls me into the wall so hard I see stars before I crumple to the ground. And then his boot is sailing into my stomach and ribs over and over again.

“Hey!” the other man snarls as he jerks his head around. “Don’t damage the fucking merchandise, moron!”

When I glance up at my attacker, his face is a bloody mess, and he still looks murderous. For a moment, I doubt he’s actually going to stop. But then his friend says something in their language, and the name Arman makes him back down.

I’m left to cough up my blood in peace while the other man finishes himself off. I’m grateful when it’s over and the poor girl is left alone. When she’s tossed to the floor like garbage beside me, her big green eyes find mine, and it shatters me. She looks grateful to me though I can’t possibly comprehend why. She can’t be older than nineteen. And looking at her tear-stained face, I’m no longer seeing her, but Talia.

Is this what happened to her? Did she get caught up in the cross hairs of some sort of mob feud? The thought is enough to make a few tears leak from my eyes too.

“They’ll come for us,” I tell the girl.

She doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about, I’m sure. But nonetheless, my words seem to bring her comfort.

“They’ll come,” I say again.

Chapter Thirty-One

Mackenzie

Throughout the night, different men continue to come and go. They bring more women who are bound and gagged in various states of consciousness. Some of them look like they’ve been held for a while. And I know it means they’re getting ready to make a shipment.

I watch quietly, trying to gather anything of importance while I can. There isn’t much to go on. Most of them look like foot soldiers, just doing as they’re told. But then another man comes. One dressed in an expensive suit.

I can’t understand the conversation they’re having, but the men who took us are waving their arms in animated fashion, guns slung over their shoulders. They gesture to me and Cara, and the guy in the suit grows furious. He starts yelling something back at them and then runs a hand through his hair several times over.

He’s nervous too, I notice as I watch him. And nervous never bodes well for captives. I glance back at Cara, who is so pale I think she might pass out. She’s too petrified to cry anymore, so that’s one blessing, I guess. In fact, all of the girls are being quiet as church mice. They know as well as I do this guy is somehow deciding our fate.

After a few more minutes of conversation and some pacing back and forth, he makes a hand gesture that looks like he’s telling them to get on with it. That could mean a hell of a lot of things, and it’s exhausting trying to guess. My hands still haven’t come loose from the binds, and now that I’ve got some probably cracked ribs it hurts to even try to wiggle free. But I continue because every glance at the girl across from me reminds me that I can’t let them hurt her again. All of these women have families and friends. People who will be left to wonder, but never know what happened to them. And that’s a fate worse than death. The not knowing is what kills me about Talia. There’s no closure, no finality. Only the endless questions and the crazy scenarios running through my mind.

When I came into this situation, I had damned the Irish from the start. They were guilty by association. Talia worked in their club, and then she went missing. It was that simple to me. But now everything is starting to blend together. Both times that I almost got killed, it was because this gang was involved. That only leaves more questions in my mind. Nothing about this is like I thought it would be. The lines between good and evil are mingling in a world with a thousand shades of black and white. The MacKenna Syndicate doesn’t deal in women. But these guys do. So who are the real monsters here?

I have no doubts Lachlan and Dom know we’re gone now. After the bombshell that was dropped on me this evening, I’m painfully aware of my place in the organization. I’m not even good enough to be a girlfriend, let alone a wife. But one of their wives is here, and that’s my only saving grace. I have to believe that they will tear the city apart looking for her. I know it in my heart. I’ve never had anyone to come in and save the day before, but I have to believe they will.

This time, there won’t be any protests from me. I want to see these animals wiped off the face of the earth. I want anyone who partakes in this turned to dust. One look at this metal box and there’s no doubt what they intend to do with these women. They’ll all become slaves to the highest bidder.

As if sensing my thoughts, the girl across from me starts to sniffle again. They never put her gag back in when they finished with her, and she isn’t even attempting to muffle the sound. I try to catch her attention, but she won’t look up.

“Hey,” I whisper.

She still doesn’t look up. The guy in the suit is growing even more agitated when he glances our way. And then he gives one of his men the order.

“You have to be quiet,” I hiss. “Please.”

“I can’t!” she sobs. “They’re going to kill us!”

Before I can calm her, the soldier is between us, kicking her in the stomach violently. I scream at him to stop, which only earns me another boot to the chest. The girl across from me lets out a gut wrenching sob and starts screaming for help. The man in the suit barks an order, and the other soldier comes forward. Everything around me slows down as I watch in horror. He’s screaming at her. Calling her names in a different language. Kicking her over and over again. And then his boot catches her face.

There’s a sickening snap as her head flies back against the metal.

I’m paralyzed with fear. With the loss of control. The helplessness of the situation I’ve been dodging all my life. My dad brought me up to be a fighter. To protect myself and look out for number one. It’s in this awful moment that I realize how wrong he was. It was on me to look out for this girl. I should have done more for her. For Talia. For Scarlett and all of the other lost souls who need someone to look out for them.

Why didn’t I do more? Why do I always have to fail?

I’m just like the rest of these women. Helpless and insignificant. My whole life I wanted to believe I was tough. That I could handle anything. But I can’t. Not this. Tears burn my face like acid as I admit that I’m just another spectator to this crime against humanity. That women are disappearing night and day and being sucked into this world of human trafficking. But right now, I’m right in the middle of it, and there is no denying it. Because when the soldier nudges the girl’s head with his boot, it lolls back to the side, and I’m met with her lifeless eyes.

All of the emotion I’ve bottled up inside of me for the last two decades explodes out of me. I’m screaming at them. Calling them fucking animals. Worthless pigs. Every vile and hateful word that I can think of. I want to kill them, and I want to do it with my bare hands.

“Fuck you!” I scream. “Fuck all of you filthy maggots! They’re going to cut your cocks off and shove them down your fucking throats!”

The soldier in front of me yanks me up by the hair and says something to the other guy that makes him laugh. But then the man in the suit is walking towards us, his eyes cool and assessing.

“You’re the girl they took from the Irish,” he says.

“Yes,” I snarl. “And they’re going to make you regret the day you were ever born. I can promise you that.”

He makes a gesture to his men, and they let go of me, only to be replaced by his hands. He tries to lead me back to the table across the room. The same one that girl was bent over before.

“Well in that case,” he says. “I may as well enjoy my last day on earth. I’ll fuck you raw and send your body parts back to them in pieces while your friend gets shipped overseas.”

My heart is pounding so hard now I can’t breathe. His words aren’t even a threat or a joke. They’re a promise. I escaped it once, but there’s no escaping it this time. I’m trying to think, to formulate a plan. I know if I break his nose they’ll shoot me in a second. I need to be smart. I need to think of another way. But I’m clamming up, completely frozen as he rips the material of my dress.

He leans forward and presses his body against mine, grinding his erection against my ass. A wave of nausea rolls up my throat, and I struggle to control it.

“I’ll show you what a real man feels like,” he hisses in my ear.

I hear the sound of his zipper, and I try to buck against him. It only excites him more. He pulls a knife out of his pocket and cuts through my dress while his soldiers make lewd remarks. He barks out an order, and one of them scrambles into his pocket, retrieving a phone. To my disgust, they start snapping pictures. The man in the suit pulls me upright and tears off the material around my breasts, grabbing them in his hands while he laughs and they take photos.

I can’t fucking take it. I can’t. I’m going to have to hurt him, and then I’m going to die. But it’s better than this. Better than letting him do this. I can only hope that Lachlan and Dom will make him suffer. Make him pay for what he’s done to us.

When he spins me around again, I draw in a deep breath. This is it. I’m going to break his nose and then kick him in nuts as hard as I can. At least if I hurt him badly enough, I know he won’t be trying to put it inside any of us. It’s my only option at this point.

His hands are running up and down my sides, and my skin is crawling. It’s now or never. I let my body go slack so he thinks he’s won. It only takes a minute for him to relax his grip on me. I rear up and back, slamming into him so hard I almost knock myself out in the process. Before he can recover, I spin around and spear my heel into his crotch. He’s screaming violently, and both of his men have their guns aimed and ready, waiting for the order.

I close my eyes and think of Lachlan. Of the last few months I’ve spent with him. My heart feels like it’s breaking in two. I wonder if he’ll ever think of me when he’s married. If he’ll ever remember the way it felt between us. Even after everything, after all of the hurt and the betrayal I feel, I still want him. I wish I could have known if even a small part of him still wanted me.

Everything is so loud. All three men are screaming. And then the gunfire erupts. I wait for the pain. For the crumpling to the floor and bleeding out. It’s taking longer than I expect. Everything is so much louder inside this container. It sounds like there are bombs going off. Like a ten car pileup on the freeway. Something slices through my arm, and I hiss in pain. But it doesn’t drop me.

I’m bleeding, I can feel that much. But they’re either a very lousy shot, or something else is happening. It isn’t until I hear his voice that I understand.

“Mack!”

I open my eyes, and that’s when I see him. My angel on the threshold with an assault rifle in his hands. At Lachlan’s flank are at least ten other men. One of the Armenian soldiers is already lying dead on the ground. The other one is bleeding badly, holding his arm across his guts, but he’s got one of the girls in front of him for cover.

Lach is screaming at me, but everything is happening so slowly. It’s too fucking loud. My head is throbbing and my ears are ringing. There’s blood all around me, and I can’t even tell who it belongs to anymore.

Lachlan moves towards me. His eyes are wide and he’s yelling something. I can’t hear him, but my body draws towards him like a magnet. My salvation. I’m so close. I just want to feel his arms around me, smell his body pressed against mine. I know I’ll be safe there.

But I don’t make it.

It isn’t until someone wraps an arm around me from behind and presses a gun to my skull that I understand. The man in the suit.

“Put down your weapons or she dies,” he orders.

Lachlan freezes. His eyes rove over me- a bloody mangled mess- and I briefly wonder if this is it. He was going to have to get rid of me eventually before he married. Maybe I am about to die after all.

Those thoughts don’t last long. Because Lach can’t hide the murderous rage that takes over. It sends another shot of adrenaline coursing through me, seeing that fire in his eyes. I want to tell him to kill them all. But the man behind me has such a painful grip on my hair that I know I’m not going anywhere this time. Lachlan considers his next move carefully while his men remain behind him, guns aimed and at the ready.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” the man behind me says. “I’m going to walk to the edge of the shipyard. I will release the girl when I get to my car, and we go our separate ways, for now.”

Lach’s eyes make it clear he isn’t going to let that happen. We both know I’ll be dead the moment we reach the edge of the shipyard. Still, the man behind me lurches us forward, believing he has the upper hand.

We take a few steps, and Lachlan’s finger twitches on his gun. The guy in the suit doesn’t miss a beat.

“Put it down!” he bellows again, digging the gun into my temple.

Lachlan moves to lower his gun, and panic wells in my chest. This sick fuck behind me will kill him. I know he’ll kill him. He tries to hoist me forward again, but I don’t move. Instead, I slam my foot up and back into his knee. He shrieks in pain, and I follow it up with a stomp to his other foot. His grip loosens and the moment of distraction is all I need to pull away from him.

Before he can do anything else, Lachlan lifts his gun and fires off a shot into the guy’s hand. The man is screaming in pain, and now fully disarmed when Lachlan follows it up with two bullets to the knees. Once he’s on the ground, Lachlan flings himself on top of him and punches him repeatedly in a fit of mania.

Everyone else scrambles into action, untying the girls and pulling them to safety. Nobody goes near Lachlan, and even I do nothing to intercede. There isn’t a single part of me that feels an ounce of remorse for this prick, even when his blood is so thick he chokes on it.

When his head finally falls limp against the floor, Lachlan takes him by the scruff of his hair and retrieves a knife from his pocket. He pushes it against his throat, and I close my eyes. I want it to happen, and I’m not sorry for that. I refuse to be sorry for that. But I still don’t want to see it.

The moment it’s all over, Lach is crushing me against his chest.

“Mack,” he breathes.

I whimper and cling to him with everything I’ve got, which isn’t much. I’m so tired of being strong. So tired of trying to do everything myself. Is it wrong to let him comfort me? To be relieved in the false sense of security I find here. These arms will shelter me and keep me safe. Something I thought I would never want now means the world to me. Even if it is all one giant lie.

“Thank you for coming,” I tell him. “For Cara.”

He pulls away from me like he’s been burned and stares at me in disbelief. “Is that what ye think?”

I look at the ground. I can’t answer him without crying, and I won’t allow myself to cry.

Silence falls around us, and I lean up against the side of the container for support. Lachlan isn’t touching me. He’s not speaking. But I can feel the anger rolling off of him.

“Get the girls out of here,” he tells his men.

There’s some shuffling, and after a few more minutes, all of the captives are led from the container. And then they are ushering in a bunch of Armenian soldiers.

“Line them up against the wall,” Lach orders.

His men do as he tells them, and I watch as they force the Armenians to kneel and face the wall.

Lachlan pulls out his Glock and forces my chin up so I have to look at him. The fury on his face hasn’t lessened at all, but there’s something else there now. Determination.

“I want ye to watch, Mack,” he says. “Can ye do that for me, sweetheart?”

Even though I know the logical conclusion of what he’s asking, my brain hasn’t fully caught up to it. So I nod. Because let’s face it, I’d do anything this man asked me to.

He walks over and presses the gun against the first man’s head, and then he looks at me.

“Did this one touch ye?” he asks.

I can’t get my lips to cooperate. This is the one who took me from the hotel. The one who smashed his gun into the back of my head and tried to violate me.

Lachlan repeats the question, this time with a roar.

“Did this fucking pig touch ye, Mack? Did he touch what’s mine?”

I barely nod, and Lachlan pulls the trigger. Maybe I should be screaming, or something. I don’t know. But I’m too numb. And all I can do is watch as Lach moves onto the next one, his chest heaving and his eyes filled with a rage like I’ve never seen before.

“How about this one?” he asks. “Did this bloke think he could touch Lachlan Crow’s woman?”

Again, I can’t answer. This is the other guy from the hotel. The one who slapped Cara. When my silence remains, Lach jams the gun against the guy’s temple and grabs him by the scruff of his hair.

“Did ye touch my woman?” he asks.

“Yes,” Cara answers from across the container.

There are tears in her eyes as she looks at me. A silent nod to tell me it’s okay to want them dead. “They took us from the hotel,” she explains.

Another gunshot, and his body falls to the floor. Lach moves to the next one.

“Mack?” he asks. “Care to fill me in on this one?”

“I don’t know,” I croak. “I don’t remember seeing him.”

It’s the truth, but I know he must have been guarding the shipping container if he’s here. Lachlan just shrugs.

“He participated.”

And with that, he pulls the trigger. Two more bullets, and two more men are disposed of before he finds his way back to me. He pulls me back into his arms and strokes my cheek with the gentlest of touches.

“You belong to me,” he tells me. “And if ye had some doubts about that, there should be none now. Anyone who tries to touch ye will die.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Mackenzie

After untying my arms and giving me a quick check over, Lachlan drags me out of the shipping container.

“What about the other girls?” I ask.

“Ye needn’t worry about them, sweetheart,” Lachlan says. “Ronan and the lads will sort it out.”

I stop and dig my heels into the concrete. “What do you mean?”

“Jaysus Christ,” he says. “I’m not that big of a prick. They’re off to drop them at the hospital, alright? Ye have my word they’ll be safe.”

I glance back and watch Ronan helping the girls into a van. I know Lachlan’s telling me the truth, but it still feels like I should be there with them. Like I should be helping them somehow. And that girl they killed. I can’t just leave her here…

“Mack.” Lach grabs me by the arms and pins me with his gaze. “Do ye remember what I told ye about the cops?”

“Yes, but…”

“If they find out you were here, they’ll want to talk to ye. They’ll connect the dots back to Slainte, and…”

“Okay,” I say meekly. He doesn’t need to tell me the rest. This is the last thing he needs right now- the cops breathing down his throat when there’s already suspicion on him.

He takes my hand in his and pulls me along beside him without resistance this time. Cara and Dom are right behind us, but we don’t say a word as we walk to the cars. She gives me a weak smile before Dom tucks her safely inside a black beamer and then Lachlan does the same to me.

The drive is quiet. I’m too exhausted. There are too many emotions to process right now, so I don’t process any of them. I just let myself stay numb and embrace the silence. Lachlan seems to understand this is what I need right now, so he holds my hand instead.

But when we park in front of his house, he pulls the keys out of the ignition and turns to me.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps.

When I meet his gaze, I’m overwhelmed by the haunted sadness in those gray eyes. The fear and the concern… because of me.

“I should’ve kept closer watch on ye,” he says. “I knew things were tense, but I just never thought… Christ, I’m sorry, Mack.”

I don’t reply. There are tears burning the back of my eyes. The question I really want to ask is how long it took him to notice I was gone. It’s crazy, and stupid, but it’s there. Lachlan unbuckles me and pulls me across the seat so I’m sitting in his lap. He presses my head against his chest and kisses my hair over and over.

“I thought you were gone,” he says. “I thought they took you, and the last thing ye’d think of me…”

He becomes too choked up to speak, and despite my best efforts, the tears start to spill over. Him being emotional makes me emotional. I can’t help it. I know what he thought. That I’d just learned he was due to marry someone else, and it was the last thing I would remember before I was taken. I can’t discuss that with him now. I’m not in the right frame of mind to think clearly. So I tell him what he needs to hear instead.

“It’s not your fault. They were waiting for us. Someone must have told them about Niall’s party.”

He nods and runs a shaky hand through his hair. I’ve never seen him so worked up. So off balance. If I had any doubts about what he may have felt for me, or the lengths he was willing to go, it’s all over his face now. It only manages to crush me that much more.

“I should’ve considered the possibility,” he says. “I should’ve…”

“Lach.”

He returns my gaze with pleading eyes and I give his hand a little squeeze. “That doesn’t matter now,” I tell him. “What matters is that you shut down their operation. Promise me. I need your word that you will.”

His hands move up to cup my face as he leans closer so there isn’t a doubt about what he has to say next. “Ye have my word, butterfly. I will burn them to the ground.”

I nod and reach up to touch his face. I believe him. He will do this for me.

“Take me inside,” I plead. “I need to get cleaned up.”

Two minutes later, he’s got me inside the house, carrying me down the hallway in his arms. Lach pushes open the bathroom door with his shoulder and sets me on the counter. He kneels down to take off my heels, and then slowly works his hands up my body, checking over my wounds.

I don’t miss the fact that he hesitates around my thong, glad to find it intact, but the question still lingering in his eyes.

“They didn’t,” I tell him. “I wouldn’t let them.”

“Thank Christ for that, sweetheart.” He stands up and buries his face in my neck, inhaling me. His hands are rough on my body, possessive, and it hurts. But I don’t care. I need this right now. I need him. He kisses my face, gently, and everywhere but on the lips. Smoothing back my hair, he rubs his palms over my shoulders, warming me.

“Where does it hurt?” he asks.

“Everywhere,” I tell him.

I already know what he’s thinking. His eyes are turbulent, filled with regret and a thousand other emotions. He needs to go deal with this nightmare, but I don’t want him to leave yet.

“I want you to take it away.”

He pauses and then nods, turning on the shower and helping me get the rest of the material off my body. He helps me inside the shower, and then makes quick work of his own clothing, stepping in behind me. For a long time, we just stand there under the hot spray, me leaning against his chest while he holds me in his arms. I’ve never felt this way before. Felt so emotional. So… helpless.

“I’m sorry, Mack,” he says again.

I turn in his arms and catch his face in my hands, pulling it down to mine. His eyes flare when our lips meet and I wrap my hands around his waist and tug him closer.

“I need you.”

My words ignite something inside of him. Something he must have been holding back. Because a moment later, he has me pressed up against the wall, my legs around his waist as he pushes inside of me.

“They will never touch ye again,” he swears as he drives into me. “I’ll make certain of that.”

It shouldn’t turn me on, but it does. His possessiveness, his need to protect and avenge me. Do I feel sorry for the scum that are trafficking women or the wrath that’s about to befall them? Hell fucking no I don’t. I know how the system works. There is no justice as swift and righteous as what Lachlan will dole out.

I tangle my fingers in his hair and kiss him with the brutal need to express my gratitude. I knew he would come for me tonight. I knew it. I want to believe he would always come for me, but I know it isn’t true. It isn’t the time, but I can’t stop myself from asking anyway.

“How long do I get to keep you for?”

He stops thrusting and stares down at my face, my tears mixing with the water from the shower. His fingers brush over my cheek and down my throat, pausing over my heart.

“Do ye think I’d ever let you go?” he asks.

I look away. His eyes are lying to me. Telling me that what he says is true. But I know it isn’t. I won’t be his mistress. I won’t be his anything. This thing between us was doomed to fail from the start.

“You’re going to marry one of them,” I choke out.

“No,” he growls.

But when I look up at his face, the indecision is there. The confusion. This is his duty to the syndicate, and I can’t change that. Even if I could, I’ve been lying to him all along too. I have to accept that I can’t keep him. The only thing I can do now is enjoy the time I do have with him.

“Fuck me, Lach.”

He does. He drives into me frantically, smashing my back against the wall with his need to claim me. I’m digging my nails into his shoulders, squeezing my legs around him as I try to hold on.

“I’d do anything for you, Mack,” he grunts. “Fucking anything.”

His words set off an explosion inside of me, and soon he’s growling out his release too. He stays inside of me for a long time, holding me and kissing my face.

“Mine,” he says again.

“Lach.” I reach up and stroke his face, marveling at how goddamn beautiful this crazy man is. “I’m yours.”

My lip quavers because it’s true. And because I’m holding back the words that I really want to say. The words that will be the death of me.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Mackenzie

When Ronan gets back to the house, he’s even more surly than usual. Conor is with him too, and he still has trouble looking at me since the little incident we had. Lachlan takes Ronan into the kitchen and they argue before he stalks over and throws himself into the chair.

Lach and some of the other guys use his parlor as a makeshift armory. I watch them suit up in their gear, strapping on holsters of every kind and grabbing duffle bags of what I’m guessing is ammunition. When I turn to Rory and tell him to make sure Lach comes back to me in one piece, all of them stop to look between us.

They all know I’m a fool. I don’t care.

Lach pulls me closer and presses my head against his chest so I can breathe him in one last time. A kiss on the forehead lets me- and everyone else in the room- know that I’m his. Rory gives me his assurances of protection, and then they are out the door.

I’m exhausted and emotional, so I grab a bottle of bourbon from Lach’s cupboard and curl up on the sofa. I take a swig straight from the bottle and Ronan glares at me.

“Sorry.” I take another drink. “You’re missing out on all of the action, huh?”

He grunts in response. Which only sets me to thinking, and that’s never a good thing.

“How come you’re stuck doing these shitty jobs, anyhow? I’d think you’d be more than a babysitter by now.”

A deadly coldness rolls through his eyes while Conor laughs his ass off at my observation. Seems I’ve hit a nerve.

“He’s not a babysitter,” Conor says. “Don’t you know why they call him the Reaper? He’s the only guy Crow trusts to take care of you. The only one who could kill someone fifty different ways before they get within ten feet of you.”

I raise my brows and Ronan shoots Conor a withering glare. “Piss off, runt,” he says. “Haven’t ye something else to be doing?”

Conor sits down beside me on the sofa. I offer him the bottle of bourbon, and he nods. But Ronan quickly puts the kibosh on that.

“Would ye like me to kill you?” he snarls. “Ye’re here to protect her, not get drunk ya eejit.”

Conor releases the bottle with a shrug. “Seems to me the girl doesn’t need protecting anyhow. She put me in a fucking choke hold for chrissakes.”

I give him an apologetic smile which only irritates Ronan further. “She needed protecting tonight, though. Didn’t she?”

Whether I want to admit it or not, his words hurt. Because I’ve always been too proud to think I’d ever need help from anyone else. Ronan seems to sense this, and for a brief moment I could almost believe he felt bad for saying it. That lasts a total of two seconds before he goes back to brooding.

The rest of the night is quiet. I drink myself into a stupor on the sofa, and it’s nearly dawn when Lach comes in and carries me to bed. He’s exhausted and we’re both sore as hell, but it doesn’t stop us from pawing at each other. I reach up and find his face in the darkness, bringing his lips to mine. Lachlan kisses me back and rolls his body into a dominant position. He wraps my legs around him and pushes inside, never taking his lips or his hands off me.

And that’s exactly where he stays until sunrise.

***

This morning’s ritual between us is different. Lach is taking his time, exploring my body like he doesn’t have anywhere to be. Like it isn’t just the way we start our day, but something different. When he finishes but stays inside of me, I know something has changed for him too.

I’m afraid to ask. But it’s there in his eyes. He cares about me too. That was never part of the plan. I didn’t want him to care about me. But now? It’s making my heart beat fast and I can’t decide whether I want to cry or kiss him.

“Do you have to leave?” I ask him, my fingers grazing over his muscular back and squeezing his ass to pull him deeper inside of me.

His face is serious as he watches me, his eyes a beautiful landscape of blue and gray. “I’d like to meet your grandmother. The one ye called the other day.”

“What?” I squeak. “I mean, why?”

He narrows his eyes. “Do I need a reason?”

I can’t tell if it’s suspicion there or something else. “Well, it’s just a little unexpected.”

“It’s inevitable,” he says. “Ye’re part of my life now. I want to know the people who are a part of yours.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I lie.

Lach studies me carefully, his eyes roaming over my face and looking for tells. He knows I’m lying, I think. So I distract him by fucking his brains out for the next hour.

***

I’m getting ready to go to the club when Lachlan comes into the bathroom and spins me around in his arms.

“I’m taking ye to supper,” he says.

I groan and he arches an eyebrow.

“Seriously?” I ask. “The last dinner we had didn’t exactly go so well. Can’t we just swing through Dunkie’s? A donut would do me just fine, really. I’m easy to please.”

“You and that coffee,” he grunts.

I stare at him expectantly. My question was not a rhetorical one.

“No, Mack.” He slaps me on the ass and makes me yelp. “Ye won’t be having a goddamn donut for dinner. Now get your arse into the car.”

“Fine,” I grumble.

The entirety of the car ride is spent giving Lachlan the silent treatment. This is what happens when he deprives me of sugar. He’s nervous about something again, evident by the tapping of his fingers against his leg, but I don’t bother asking. I know better than that by now.

Expecting the Back Bay again or something equally fancy, my paranoia takes a strangle hold on me as we move towards some of my old stomping grounds in Southie. I turn my attention to Lach, who isn’t giving anything away. He doesn’t seem like he’s in on the big secret, but still, this whole situation doesn’t bode well for me.

When he pulls up to a tavern… one that I know very well, I’m practically hyperventilating.

“What are we doing here?” I ask.

“C’mon.”

He gets out and walks over to open my door, but I’m glued to my seat. Lachlan takes my hand and pulls me up anyway. Everything around us is shrouded in fog as he opens the door and we step inside.

I don’t have to look across the room at the table in the corner. I already know she’s here.

“Lach…” I protest weakly. “I don’t like this place. Can’t we just…”

My words are cut off when Scarlett walks up to us and gives me a mischievous smile. God damn her. God fucking damn her. What the fuck? I told her not to get involved in this. I told her.

“Hey babe,” she greets me with a wink before holding her hand out to Lachlan.

I watch Lach carefully, trying to decipher every hidden emotion in his eyes. He doesn’t look hostile, but God knows that could change at any moment. I’ve lied to him, and somehow he’s managed to get a hold of Scarlett and bring her here. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

It’s one thing to screw with my own life, but I didn’t want Scarlett in this. I can’t protect her.

“How did you…”

“Her number was in your phone,” Lach explains without remorse.

Bastard.

“C’mon over to my spot.” Scarlett gestures to the table. “I’ve ordered for us already.”

“Have ye?” Lachlan asks.

“There’s only one thing you eat when you come here,” Scarlett and I say in unison.

Lach nods and puts his hand on my lower back as we walk to the table. We sit down, and I slam the shot of Patron Scarlett ordered for me in one gulp. I’m staring daggers at her, but it doesn’t bother her in the least.

“So, Lachlan,” she feigns ignorance. “You’re the reason Mack hasn’t been coming around lately.”

Oh sheesh. She’s really making a big production out of this. I gesture to the waitress for another round.

“Seems that way,” he says. “I thought it was time we met. Though I must say ye look a little young to be her grandmother.”

Scarlett laughs.

Then she leans forward on her elbows, and something passes over her face. Something I haven’t seen in all the years I’ve known her except maybe once. And that was when she helped me fight off the men in the alley that fateful night.

“She’s a good girl,” Scarlett tells him. “If any harm ever comes to her, you’ll have to contend with me.”

“Scarlett…” I protest.

She holds her hand up and ignores me. “Now I may not look like much. But Mack doesn’t either. And yet, we both know that isn’t true. Sometimes, people can surprise you.”

Her voice is full of threat, and it would be absolutely frigging adorable if this were any other normal guy I was dating. But I can see the wheels spinning in Lachlan’s head. He knows as well as I do she’s no threat to him. Still, I don’t know what to expect.

So when he gives her a nod and doesn’t even crack a smile or hold an ounce of arrogance in his features, I squeeze his hand under the table in thanks.

“I can respect that,” Lach says.

And then he turns to me and brushes my hair back over my shoulders, staring at me with an expression of pride and dare I say… happiness.

“I’ve no intentions of hurting, Mack,” he says softly. “If anything, I’m sure it will be the other way around.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Mackenzie

The whole way to the club, I’m a nervous wreck. I can’t stop thinking about Scarlett. If things go south now, what’s going to happen to her?

It makes me sick with worry. But there’s something else there too. There’s guilt roiling around, eating me up inside. Lach’s words keep echoing through my head. He knows I’m going to hurt him. Maybe he can see more than I gave him credit for. Maybe he knows it’s only a matter of time until I screw him over.

He reaches over and pulls my mangled lip from between my teeth and then puts his hand on my knee possessively, sliding it up my thigh.

“Tell me what’s bothering you,” he says. “Why didn’t ye want me to meet her?”

“Because,” I scoff. “I don’t want her involved in this world.”

His grip tightens on my leg. “Do ye always think the worst of me?”

I cringe. It can’t be denied. In my head, I’ve accused him of trafficking women. Being involved in Tal’s disappearance somehow. And not coming for me if Cara hadn’t been there with me. But when I look at him now, calm and relaxed and possessive, I know those things aren’t true.

So why am I still doing this?

I could give it all up. Find another way. Open up to Lach and hope that I’m right about him. But there are too many variables in those options. Things that could go wrong or set me back completely. And right now, the file that Scarlett slipped into my handbag tonight is burning a hole on the floorboards. I have to see what’s inside of it. I have to believe that I’m doing the right thing. I need some sort of vindication to continue down this path.

Lachlan pulls up to the club and turns off the car. And then he swivels in his seat and reaches over to give me a tender kiss. God, I am so fucked.

“Ye needn’t worry yourself over Scarlett,” he says. “No harm will come her way.”

I don’t answer, so he reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Do ye believe me?”

“I do,” I whisper. “But just swear it, please. Give me your word. You guys are big on that, right? Giving your word?”

Lachlan doesn’t look content that I’m still doubting him, but he nods anyway. “Ye have my word, sweetheart.”

“No matter what happens,” I insist. “You won’t hurt her. She has nothing to do with me or my life or the choices I make.”

“Is that the kind of man ye think I am?” he asks.

His disappointment with me penetrates right through my protective shield.

“I don’t want to,” I half laugh and half cry.

Oh, Jesus. Those are real tears. I really am crying. What the hell?

Lachlan looks just as confused as I am.

“I know you’re a good person, Lach. I see that when I’m with you every day. I feel safe when you’re near, and I’ve never felt that with anyone. But then I think about what you do and who you work for. Some things I’m okay with. Like last night… what you had to do, I wanted you to do it. It’s confusing the way that I feel. I don’t really understand it myself. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, and I want to tell you…”

His phone rings, and he hits ignore, keeping his attention focused on me.

“Tell me what, sweetheart?”

“I want to tell you…”

His phone rings again.

“Goddammit,” he curses. “Just one second, love.”

He answers and makes short clipped responses that grow louder and more frustrated by the time the call ends two minutes later.

“Christ,” he mutters. “I want you to tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it is.”

I want to tell him too. But right now, he’s stressed about something else, and it isn’t the time.

“Tonight,” I say. “We’ll talk about it tonight. I know you have to go.”

He sweeps his palm over my cheek and down my throat and kisses me again before pulling away. A moment later, Ronan appears outside the car door.

“He’ll take ye inside,” Lach says. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Okay.” I give his hand a squeeze. “I guess I’ll see you later then.”

He smiles. “Always, sweetheart.”

***

The moment Ronan and I are inside, I excuse myself to the restroom.

After checking that all of the other stalls are empty, I scurry inside and tear the file out of my handbag. I open it up and find a shit load of pictures and notes.

There are photos of Donovan going to and from the club, his house which turns out to be a sad looking little duplex, and a few of his usual haunts. It doesn’t surprise me that he likes to hang out at a seedy dive bar, or a Russian owned brothel. But what does surprise me is seeing him walking in and out of it with Mandy.

What the hell would she be doing at a brothel with him and do I even want to know?

I scour through the rest of the photos, finding the answer to that shortly. It turns out the brothel isn’t the only place they like to hang out. There are photos of them in back alleys, with Donovan’s pants around his ankles and her head bobbing between his legs.

Gross.

I start to skip over them, thinking them all to be the same, but then something catches my eye. In one of the photos, Donovan walks into the brothel with Mandy, but it’s one of the Russians who leaves with her. Double gross.

Is she ping ponging between them? And if so why did my guy think it was important for me to know this. I scan the corresponding notes and get his only explanation.

I had a hunch. I followed it.

Sure enough, the next set of photos are of Mandy and the Russian. It seems she’s been meeting with both men all over town. Sometimes two or three times a day.

It’s obvious what they’re doing by the photographs, but something about this still doesn’t feel right. Even putting aside the fact that I don’t like Mandy, I can’t understand why any woman would consider firsts with those two, let alone seconds. Willingly from what it appears. Unless they are blackmailing her somehow.

Could that be it?

Despite my feelings about her, Mandy is pretty. The type of woman most guys would find desirable. I highly doubt she has any trouble getting male attention. Well, except from Lachlan, maybe. But Donny and this Russian dude are far from the hottest guys on the planet, and Mandy seems like the shallow type. I can’t figure out what she would see in these two.

I look through the photos again and frown. There has to be something I’m missing here. Which means I’m going to have to do something I really don’t want to do. I need to talk to Mandy.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Mackenzie

I find Mandy in the dressing room getting ready for her dance set. She’s lining her eyes with liquid liner when I sit down beside her and clear my throat.

“What do you want?” she wrinkles her nose.

I muster up a small smile for her. Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard to me, but still. If she’s in trouble, I could help her. And I would. Regardless of my feelings towards her.

“Look, Mandy, I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”

She screws the cap back onto her eyeliner and then turns her attention towards me. Her eyes are full of suspicion, but I forge on anyway.

“I just wanted to wipe the slate clean,” I tell her. “I thought maybe we could get to know each other a little.”

She laughs, and it comes out a little crazy. And then she crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, sizing me up.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she asks. “Do you actually think that sweet little act is going to work on me?”

Okay, so apparently nice isn’t the route to go here. I shrug and try a different tack. It’s not like I could make Donovan hate me any more than he already does anyway.

“Look, I just know that Donny has been bothering some of the other girls, and I thought maybe he was bothering you too.”

“And what are you gonna’ do about it if he is?” she snarls. “Beat him up for me?”

I don’t answer because the hatred in her voice catches me off guard. I knew she didn’t like me, but this is something else altogether. The way she’s looking at me right now, it’s like she actually wishes I was dead. I just can’t wrap my head around it. I’ve done nothing to this girl. I know she wanted Lachlan, but this isn’t jealousy. It’s something personal.

Whatever the case, it’s obvious this is a lost cause, so I stand up and walk towards the exit.

“Just forget it,” I call over my shoulder. “We’ll go back to not talking. You’re right it’s probably better that way.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” she retorts. “In fact…”

I hate that I pause to hear her out, but I do. And when she leaves the words hanging, I spin around to find a hostile grin tugging at her lips.

“I doubt you’ll be around here much longer anyway.” She snaps her gum. “Because you know what I think?”

I roll my eyes, but answer her anyway. “What’s that Mandy?”

“I think you’re going around trying to make Donny look bad to take the attention off of you. Because from what I hear, Donny’s the one who has dirt on you.”

I cross my arms and try to look disinterested, but inside I’m mentally dissecting anything he could have come across. Mandy takes my silence as her cue to continue.

“He told me something about you too… yeah, that’s right.” She snaps her fingers as though she’s just remembered. “He said you looked familiar. Very familiar.”

I smile back in an attempt to show her she’s not getting to me. There’s no way I could look familiar to him. I’ve never met him before, that I am certain of. So what she’s saying doesn’t make any sense.

“You know, he didn’t always run for this crew,” she adds in a bitter tone.

“Your point, Mandy?”

She stares at me for a long time, like she’s expecting me to have some sort of realization. I don’t. And I’m starting to think she’s just a mental case who’s trying to make me paranoid. If Donny had something on me, he would have spilled it by now. I shrug and turn back towards the door.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Have a good night, Mandy.”

“Have a good rest of your life,” she laughs. “However long that may be.”

***

In keeping with my routine, I check in with Sasha who has nothing new to report. She still hasn’t seen the Russian I’ve been waiting around for, so I go to work. My attempt at doing inventory is a bust. It’s impossible for me to keep count, let alone think straight. Mandy’s threat keeps bouncing around in my head.

Does Donny know what I’m up to? And how could he unless he’d spent time with Tal and she specifically told him about me? It doesn’t seem likely.

It’s all I can think about. This isn’t just about Tal or myself anymore. I have to protect Lachlan too. If his men find out that I’ve been lying and snooping around and he was the one who brought me here, I don’t know what they will do to him. I can’t let him pay for my actions. I can’t let my grief over Talia destroy him. Because deep down, I know he didn’t have anything to do with it. His crew? Maybe. Possibly. But Lachlan? No frigging way.

He’s a good man. He didn’t deserve this. The lies and the sneaking around. I can’t imagine what it would do to him if he found out I was using him. Maybe that isn’t fair, considering he was pretty much doing the same, but it still hurts to even think about it. I don’t know how I’d ever explain my betrayal. I don’t know how I’d make him believe it isn’t that way now.

But none of that matters. I sealed my fate the moment I crossed enemy lines. I came here with a purpose, and there’s no way I could hide that forever. There was always a chance that things would implode like this. I just didn’t think it would be so hard to leave him when they did. I don’t want to. I’m not ready for that. But with every minute that ticks by on the clock tonight, I feel it in my chest.

It’s time. I have to leave now. Something isn’t right, and I can’t wait around to find out what Donny’s got up his sleeve. Maybe I can just have one more night with Lachlan. I could… I don’t know… tell him how I feel. Which is crazy and pointless, especially when I can hardly make sense of it myself. I don’t know what to do.

After the fifth failed attempt at counting, I head back to the bar… only to find Donny watching me from his seat. And for the briefest of seconds, I see it.

Recognition.

It’s there in his eyes, and this time it’s clear as day. He isn’t hiding it. In fact, there’s a smug smile on his lips. He does know. In my gut, I know it’s true. He somehow knows, and he’s going to take me down.

Fuck.

I walk on shaky legs to the bar and order a drink. If I leave now, he’ll know what I’m doing. So I pretend like everything is fine when inside I’m screaming. I don’t even know where Lachlan is. Shit. I’m not going to have a chance to say goodbye. Goodbye.

Why does that hurt so much?

Tears blur my eyes, and the five minutes I wait for him to leave feel like a hundred. When he finally does, I tell Ronan I’m going back to finish inventory.

Instead, I veer off down the hall and use the back door that Lach usually enters through. His car isn’t in the lot. He’s still gone.

I should be relieved. I should be running like hell. But instead, I’m practically dragging myself out onto the curb to flag down a cab. My feet feel like they’re weighted down with cement. Perhaps an ominous premonition of my body’s own making. There’s a part of me that still lingers here, that doesn’t want to leave. It isn’t even because of the answers, and that’s what’s so wrong.

How did this happen? Donny’s fucking with me. He’s going to spill, but he’s been holding out. There has to be a reason, a plan. He wouldn’t just let this stuff slide.

It doesn’t matter. There’s only one thing I can do now. I don’t have the answers I’m seeking, but all I can think about is how this is going to affect Lachlan. How this is going to blow back on him. There’s only one way to protect that from happening. I have to leave. I have to go back to Lach’s, get all my shit, and leave.

***

Scarlett picks up on the third ring, and I can tell by the din of the bar in the background that she’s drinking.

“Hey babe,” she says. “How’s things?”

“Shit’s hit the fan,” I tell her. “And I need you to get out of town for a bit.”

I expect a fight, but instead there’s a pause.

“You alright?” she asks softly.

Scarlett is never soft with me. She must be able to hear the emotion in my voice. I’m not in a good place right now.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “I just want to know you’re safe so I can deal with this.”

“Sure,” she says. “You know I can take care of myself. But what are you going to do?”

“I’m leaving too, and I’ll contact you as soon as I can,” I promise. “I have to dump this phone.”

“Okay, be careful.”

“Alright Scarlett.” I choke up a little. “Take care.”

***

When I walk inside Lachlan’s house, I’m startled by a noise in the kitchen. I didn’t see any cars outside, so I don’t know who it could be. There’s no way Ronan could have noticed I was gone and beaten me here so fast.

I hesitate at the door, but then I hear nothing. Thinking I might be going crazy, and definitely paranoid, I walk in to investigate. Which turns out to be a mistake.

Before I can even fully comprehend what’s happening, someone grabs me from behind and shoves me against the wall. My heart jackhammers in my chest when I feel the rage rolling off his body, combined with the scent of Lach’s cologne.

He spins me around slowly, pressing the knife he’s holding flush against my throat. One wrong move, and I’m dead. It isn’t too difficult to figure out why. When I glance up at him, the betrayal is written all over his face. And behind him, scattered across the counter, are the contents of my secret hiding place. The photo of Talia. The rolled up notes I’ve been keeping.

My eyes start to water. This isn’t how I wanted things to go. I was going to leave. Do the right thing for Lachlan and figure out another way. But he’ll never believe that now.

His breaths are coming fast and hard, and he isn’t talking. The eyes that held a world of vibrant colors and emotions are now a barren sea of stark gray. I’ve never seen him so angry. So hurt.

“Tell me why,” he demands. “What have ye to say for yourself, Mack?”

“Talia,” I whisper.

He slams me back against the wall and the knife presses deeper into my flesh. Blood trickles down my throat as his eyes burn into me. “I don’t fucking believe a word out of your mouth.”

The pain of the blade is nothing compared to that look from him. The disappointment and the rage, the obvious regret over allowing me into his life. How did it come to be this way? I don’t have a fucking clue. I was never supposed to get involved with him. The water leaking from my eyes starts to spill over now, and there is no pushing it back this time.

“It’s the truth,” I tell him. “You saw her photo. It’s right there on the counter…”

“Shut up!” he yells. “Just shut the fuck up.”

The knife presses deeper still, and he’s panting now. His eyes are turbulent, darting all over my face and I know right now he’s making the decision whether I live or die. But there is no decision. If I’ve been discovered, there’s only one way the syndicate would deal with me. The only escape for me is death. And even then, Lachlan will still probably bear the weight of my sins.

I won’t apologize to him. I know it wouldn’t do any good right now. So instead, I offer him the one thing I can. The one thing I need from him before my fate is carried out.

“Would it make you feel any better to fuck your hate out on me?” I whisper.

There’s a small part of me that fears he’ll outright reject me. The hatred in his eyes is clear. I’m afraid it’s overshadowed everything else we had between us.

“Ye’re fucking joking,” he laughs darkly. “Ye think that’s going to make me feel better?”

I can’t get my mouth to work, so I nod. I need to feel him, any way I can. I need this last connection with him.

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” he says.

He wheels me around and presses his hand between my shoulder blades until I’m flattened over the counter. He holds me down by the throat and shoves my dress up over my hips, using the knife to cut my thong off. Before I can understand what he’s doing, he stuffs the material into my mouth and then clamps his palm over my lips. A slide of his zipper, and he’s buried deep inside of me. Christ, he’s already hard as hell. I don’t know what to make of that.

“Ye’re wet for me, Mack.” He slides in and out of me, grabbing hold of my wrists behind my back. “Is that a lie too?”

I shake my head and mumble around the cloth in my mouth. This only pisses him off more. His hand comes down and presses my face flat against the countertop while he pulls my wrists back with his other arm. The position is uncomfortable, as it’s meant to be, but I don’t care.

I yield to him.  This is a punishment fuck. He’s coming at me hard and fast now, yanking me around like a sex toy for his pleasure. I’ll take it. He has unconditional power over me. I deserve whatever he gives me. More than that, I want it. I want him so fucking much it hurts.

I manage to twist my neck a little under the weight of his bruising grip and peek up at him. I make eye contact and he uses his palm to shove my hair into my face, darkening my world again.

“I can’t even look at you,” he roars. “Fuck! Mack. What have ye done?”

He keeps fucking me, but he’s not enjoying himself. I can tell. He’s squeezing my waist with both hands now, barreling into me. His chest collapses against my back and he buries his face in my hair, inhaling.

“You’ve wrecked me, Mack,” he says. “You’ve fucking wrecked me.”

More tears spill over my eyes, and I try to apologize. It’s too muffled for him to understand. He releases my mouth, and I spit the cloth out.

“Goddammit.” He pulls out of me and spins me around, lifting me up so that my ass is hanging off the counter and I’m facing him. “I have to look at ye,” he grunts as he slides back into me. “I don’t want to. But I have to. You lying fucking…”

I reach up and yank his face to mine. For a second, he kisses me back, as if he’s forgotten. And then he bites me and pulls away. My lip is bleeding, and so is my throat. He smears the blood with his fingers before he wraps his hand around my neck.

“I should just do it now,” he says. “It was all an act to you. A fucking game.”

“No,” I protest weakly.

He slams into me at my denial. “Every word ye told me was a lie.”

“It wasn’t.”

He thrusts harder. So hard the counter creaks beneath me, threatening to snap from the force of his anger.

“Every goddamn word,” he yells.

I feel like I’m going to snap too. It isn’t the rough fuck. It’s his words. He keeps saying them over and over. I’m a liar. It meant nothing. I did this to him. I betrayed him. And it sends me over the mental edge.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” I sob. “It wasn’t a fucking act! I’m in love with you Lachlan!”

He freezes mid-thrust, his eyes brutally cold as they examine me. I can’t look at him when he’s like this, so I bury my face against his chest. It doesn’t matter if he believes me. I told him. And I haven’t said those words to anybody in a very long time.

The world around us goes silent and still. He doesn’t move. I don’t either. I won’t look at him. After a while, he cups the back of my head and starts to move inside of me again. It’s nothing like before. This time he isn’t trying to hurt me, he’s trying to finish. The sounds that I love spill from his throat as he pulls me as close as he can get me.

He whispers something so low I can’t make it out, and then he comes with an agonized sigh. One last time. A sob wrenches from my throat when the realization washes over me.

When I open my eyes, he’s still inside of me. His eyes are plastered to my face, torn. I know what I should do. I should just ask him to do it. I want him to be the one to do it. I know he’ll be good to me. He won’t draw it out or torture me. He’d make it quick. But I also know it’d kill him to do it.

Maybe I could run. I could just leave and go somewhere else, far away. But I know there’s no chance of that happening.

In my heart, I already know it’s going to be him or me.

My eyes dart to the knife laying on the counter within reach, and before I can give it any thought, he grabs it and hands it to me. There’s nothing on his face. No anger. No emotion. Nothing. Because of me and what I did to him.

“Go on,” he says. “That’s probably the best solution, Mack. Because I sure as hell don’t want to use it on you.”

My lip quivers, and my hand starts to shake. Jesus, I’m really losing the plot here. There was never any question about it, I can’t hurt him. I’ve done enough of that already.

I pull the knife away and throw it across the room with a sob, and Lachlan crushes me against his chest.

“Goddamn you, Mack. I knew I should have avoided ye.”

“I know,” I whisper back. “Why didn’t you?”

His eyes grow dark, and instinctively I know I’m not going to like the next words out of his mouth.

“I had no choice in the matter. The Russians wanted to trade you for their rat. They want ye dead.”

“What?” I choke out. “Why do they want me dead?”

“Think about it, Mack.”

I swallow down nine years of pain and guilt as I reach into his eyes and pull out the answers for myself.

“You were going to give me to them, weren’t you?”

Lachlan scrubs his hands over his face and looks away. “I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck I was going to do with ye, Mack. It doesn’t matter now though, does it?”

My hands fall away from his shirt as I nod. It would have hurt less if he had stabbed me.

“Do you know who killed my father?” I ask quietly.

“Aye.”

I force my eyes to his even though it’s the last place I want to look. “You have to tell me.”

“That I can’t do.”

“Because of your precious fucking syndicate?” I yell.

“No. Because I know how ye are, Mack.”

My lip wobbles as I try to make sense of his words. I know what he’s going to do. I know it in my gut already. So why does it matter if he tells me who killed my father?

“I’ll sort it out,” he says. “Ye have my word, Mack. The man who did your father will no longer walk this earth, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

I’m too choked up to speak, so I just nod. It isn’t good enough, but there’s too much happening right now for me to wrap my head around.

“Donovan knows,” he continues.

“How?” I ask.

“Said he remembers you from Southie. He knew you and Talia were mates, somehow. Connected the dots. I don’t know.”

“He didn’t grow up in Southie,” I argue. “And I don’t know him. That’s complete bullshit.”

Lachlan shrugs. Regardless how Donny found out is a moot point. The only thing that matters now is the aftermath.

“Ye should have come to me,” he says. “I’d have told you then I had nothing to do with Talia’s disappearance. Neither did any of the lads.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

His throat works, and he pulls back to look at me. “I do.”

I open my mouth, but it takes me a minute to get my voice to work. I’m afraid to hear what he has to say. “How?”

“She was spending her time at a different sort of club,” he says. “With one of the Russians.”

I look away because I already know in my gut what he means. He’s confirming what I’ve suspected all along. It was the Russian that she talked about. And now my time is up, and I’ll never know who he was.

My voice is hoarse when I speak again. “So what now?”

Lach remains quiet and solemn as he pulls out of me and tucks himself back into his pants.

“Now we get in my car and drive.”

***

The car is deceptively quiet for all of the loud thoughts hanging between us. We’re at odds. An ocean of lies tethering us together and tearing us apart.

When Lachlan said drive, I didn’t think he meant for hours. I don’t know where he’s going. I doubt he does either. I know he’s working up the courage to do it. It’s taking him a long time.

I accepted my fate the moment I climbed inside of his car. I know what he has to do, even if he can’t admit it himself. There’s no other way. This is the code he lives by. His loyalty lies with the syndicate, and I’m not stupid enough to think I can change that. I won’t let myself believe I can change that. It’s easier this way, knowing and accepting what he’s going to do. I won’t fight him.

It’s him or me.

That’s what I keep telling myself.

I’m trying to forget the fact that he was planning to hand me over to the Russians. That he knew all along he’d probably have to marry someone else and we couldn’t be together. He’s lied to me, and I to him. We can’t get past these things. There’s no overcoming them.

And what life do I have to go back to anyway? Talia’s gone. Scarlett is a lone wolf. I never realized how empty my life had really become until I had him in it. He did that to me. He said I wrecked him, but he completely destroyed me. Everything was fine when I was alone. When I didn’t have to feel or think or care about someone else. Sure I was sad and broken, but I was okay. Now, I’m anything but.

He made me want things I was never destined to have. He made me cry and say the words I never thought I’d say again. If my father were here, he’d tell me I was pathetic. That this was my own fault for being weak. And he’d be right. But there wasn’t any other option. I think I’d always been weak as far as Lachlan was concerned. He dissolved my armor with a single look. A touch. One command from his lips, and I was his. I’m a slave to this man. The power he holds over me is ridiculous. And now that I’m going to die, I can admit that freely.

I can’t keep myself from glancing over at him. Seeing his shadowed profile lit only by the light of the moon and the headlights of passing cars. I only get glimpses of him, and it’s never enough. Tiny flashes of the man I fell in love with, but wasn’t supposed to.

He’s hauntingly beautiful. Those eyes of his hold so many different memories between us. I wonder if he’ll look back on them when I’m gone, or if he’ll shut me out forever. That would hurt worse than anything. But what does it matter? I’ll be dead.

Someone else will be in his bed, feeling his body move inside of them. Feeling his warmth when he comes in right before dawn and pulls her against his chest. Wearing his shirts and smelling his cologne on the pillow beside her. I hate her already. I hate the bitch who gets to have those things with him so much I want to scream.

It isn’t fair. None of this is fair. But I won’t tell him that. I won’t beg. I’ll only ask one thing of him, even though my heart is breaking. I just need him to keep his promise about Scarlett. And maybe something else. Maybe he could find out what happened to Talia.

I know she’s probably gone, like I’ll be soon too. Maybe we’ll find each other again somehow in the next life.

Lachlan pulls over and turns off the car. When I glance out the window, I see that we’re on a side road, surrounded by nothing but forest. This is the place he’s chosen for me. I wonder if he’ll ever visit my gravesite.

“Get out.”

His words are sharp, but even still, he can’t hide the emotion that lies beneath. I want to believe that there’s another option. One where neither of us has to die. But this isn’t a game anymore. It’s as real as it’s ever been, and I’m just nowhere near as tough as I thought. I’m not ready to go, but I’m not selfish enough to let him die either.

I get out of the car. It’s cold, and I can see my breath in front of me, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll be very cold soon enough. I walk on wooden legs to stand before him. The headlights are still on, illuminating his figure against the inky blackness of the forest.

“Can I…” I reach up to touch his face. “Can I just have one more…”

“Shut up, Mack.”

His lips are on me, hot and savage, echoed by the movement of his hands. Whatever cold surrounds me, I no longer feel. I’m safe here in his arms, if only for a little while. They are warm and familiar and comforting to me. Really, I couldn’t think of a better way to go. I hope he holds me close like this when he does it. I don’t want to know it’s coming.

He yanks my dress up and rubs his palm between my legs. I’m still sore from earlier, but just this touch from him… the knowledge that he still wants me after everything… is enough to make me crave him desperately.

I don’t have to beg him. He’s got me flipped onto my back and pressed against the hood of his car in no time. I half laugh and half sob when he unzips his pants and I realize what he’s doing. He told me he’d fuck me on it. And now he is.

He pushes inside of me, harder than steel and so fucking big I feel like I’m being torn in two. I welcome it. This sweet brutality. I want it to go on forever. I claw at his back and kiss his neck and murmur things against his skin. Confessions, admissions, declarations. It drives him crazy.

“Say it again,” he tells me with each thrust.

I repeat whatever irrational thought goes through my head in the moment. I tell him I wanted to keep him. How I love the way he fucks me. How much he’s rubbed off onto me, and how goddamn beautiful he is. I talk about his accent, his ass, even his fighting skills. It’s all coming out in half pants and sobs.

“Have ye anything else to say?” he whispers in my ear. “Like ye did earlier?”

Tears are rolling down my face when I look up into his eyes and tell him.

“I love you.”

He thrusts harder.

“I love you,” I repeat.

Another hard thrust. He wants to hear it, and yet he’s punishing me for it.

“I fucking love you!” I scream. “I love you goddammit! You fucking asshole. I hate you for making me love you.”

He comes inside of me with a grunt and collapses on top of me. His fingers are still working my clit, and I’m sobbing when I come too.

“Just do it,” I plead. “Do it already. I can’t wait any more. I need you to do it.”

He’s staring down at me, his eyes filled with pain, but he isn’t moving. He’s inside of me. On top of me. Everywhere around me. This is pure torture now.

“Just fucking do it!” I scream.

He grabs me by the throat and slaps his other hand over my mouth. My body goes lax beneath him, and relief courses through my veins. But after a moment, I realize the pressure isn’t there, and I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

“Cop onto yourself, sweetheart,” he says.

And then he takes his hand off my mouth and replaces it with his lips. They’re soft and gentle and sweet and completely fucking sadistic to do this to me.

“Lachlan…”

“Shut up, Mack.”

He pulls out of me and zips himself back up. And then he helps me up off the hood of the car. I can’t even find the energy to ask what the hell he’s doing when he walks me back to the passenger side and deposits me onto the seat.

He gets in beside me, and then we’re driving again. In silence. Through the goddamn woods. Lach’s fingers are threaded through mine the entire time. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. What he’s doing. I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I’m trying to silence the insane thoughts looping through my brain.

And then we pull up to a house. But not so much a house as a fortress in the middle of nowhere.

“What is this place?” I ask when he cuts the engine.

“Shut up, Mack.”

Again, he helps me out of the car. He leads me across the yard, pausing just before we get to the door.

“Alexei can’t hear properly,” he says. “Ye need to look at him when ye speak.”

I blink, and he squeezes my hand tighter.

“Don’t be obvious about it, Mack.”

That’s the end of the conversation, because a moment later, another man is opening the door.

“Franco.” Lachlan nods in greeting.

“Mr. Crow.”

“I need to speak with Alexei.”

The man opens the door wide and gestures us inside. “Of course, sir.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Mackenzie

We sit in a lounge area, waiting for this man named Alexei. I still have no idea what we’re doing here.

Lach’s got me pulled tight against his chest, his arm wrapped around me possessively while his fingers rub up and down my back. I feel his gaze on me, but I can’t look at him. There is too much uncertainty about what comes next, and I’m barely holding on by a thread. I fear that one look at him will unravel me completely.

Finally, the man in question enters the room.

The man who I presume to be Alexei doesn’t make a sound as he takes a seat across from us. He’s a large man, tall with broad shoulders and an athletic body. He’s also quite handsome, but there’s a haunting sadness about his face. Melancholy blue eyes snap to me before he fixes them on Lachlan.

He says something in Russian, to which Lachlan replies, shocking the hell out of me. After a moment of this back and forth, the room goes silent again. A housekeeper comes in and pours the men a drink and then asks me if I’d like one as well. I shake my head and thank her anyway.

Lach drinks the expensive Cognac slowly, but Alexei downs his in two gulps. And then pours himself another glass.

“Have ye sorted out your problem with Katya?” Lachlan asks.

Alexei’s only response is to take another shot. That’s why he looks so haunted. He’s heartbroken, obviously. If only he knew how much I could relate to him in this moment.

Is this how I’ll be if Lachlan decides to keep me alive? A shell of my former self with only alcohol as my companion. A shudder moves through me as I consider it.

The men talk in a mish mash of broken Russian and English. Lach seems to have the basics down, but isn’t completely fluent. I don’t have to see Alexei’s eyes darting to me to understand who they’re talking about.

After a while, they seem to come to some sort of agreement. And then Lachlan pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to Alexei. It feels like there’s glass in my throat when I realize it’s the photo of Talia.

“What are you doing with that?” I ask.

Lachlan doesn’t reply. He’s staring at Alexei, watching him, so I do the same. His eyes are roving over the photograph with laser precision, like he’s downloading every detail to memory.

“Does he know what happened to her?” I accuse.

Lach shoots me a look. “No. He’s offered to help you find her.”

Everything else fades away. All the horror and pain of this evening and the events leading up to it. And for the briefest of moments, my world is filled with sunshine and everything becomes clear again. Alexei glances at me, and I try to see through him. Past his cold exterior to the man who lies beneath. He keeps dragging his bloodshot eyes back to the photo as if he can’t stop himself. Hope springs up inside of me like an oasis inside of the desert. Even the cynical part of me is jumping onboard with this, too inflated by the possibility to accept any impending rejection.

“How will you find her?” I ask.

Lachlan answers for him.

“Alexei is very good at finding things,” he says evasively. “He works with… computers.”

This is the only explanation I get. And it dawns on me that Alexei must be a member of their alliance. The Russian syndicate. Lach sounds unwavering in his belief that Alexei can find her, and I want to believe it. He appears studious. Quiet and cultured and dangerous too, but in a more calculating manner than the other men I’ve seen. Can he really find Talia? I don’t know. But he’s the only hope I’ve got left.

Alexei takes the photograph and says something in Russian. And then he leaves the room.

I’m still too infused with relief to understand what’s really happening here. But when Lachlan pulls me close and starts peppering my face with kisses, it dawns on me soon enough. This is the moment I realize that our traumas never really go away. They live inside of us, in the deepest darkest pits of our own tiny hells. Cocked and loaded, waiting for someone to come along and pull the trigger.

Lachlan is pulling that trigger. He’s leaving me. Alone and afraid… and without him. My heart threatens to cave in under the weight of the pain.

“No.” I grab onto his coat and hold on. “What are you doing?”

His answer is the faintest brush of his lips against mine.

“No,” I say again, weakly.

“Mack.” He closes his eyes and buries his face in my neck as he holds me close. “I’m not handing ye over to the Russians, okay? Alexei is a mate, and I trust him. No harm will come to ye here, but I have to go.”

“No.”

I seem to have lost the ability to say anything else.

“Sweetheart, I have to.”

“You can’t do this to me,” I sob. “Don’t leave. Stay.”

He strokes my face, my hair, his eyes soft and completely devoid of any anger as he looks down at me.

“Ye’re beautiful, sweetheart,” he says. “There was no avoiding you, Mack. It was always meant to happen this way.”

“Don’t go back,” I plead. “I’m sorry. But just don’t go back.”

I know it isn’t fair. Or even realistic. But Lachlan gives me a pass for acting like an emotional two-year-old. He takes off his gold medallion and drapes it over my neck, still warm from his skin. I want to protest, but I cling to it instead. Like if he leaves it with me that means he’s going to come back for it too.

“Do ye remember when ye asked what a man like me wants?”

I let out a god-awful sound of despair in answer.

“I already have a family,” he explains. “And I will abide by whatever they decide for me, Mack. That’s how this works.”

I’m shaking my head, a protest on the tip of my tongue, but he just continues anyway.

“But if I was going to marry,” he says. “I’d have wanted it to be you.”

I crawl into his lap, clinging to him, hoping that he won’t be able to shake me off. That this isn’t happening how I think it is.

“Please…” I wrap my arms around his neck and sob against him.

He places one of his palms over my belly, and stares at it longingly. “I wanted to have a baby with you. Can ye believe it?” He looks up at me. “I’ve never wanted that with anyone.”

“You still can,” I insist.

I’d tell him anything right now to keep him from leaving. But it isn’t a lie. I’d have Lach’s babies. I’d have a whole brood of them if he wanted me to.

He kisses my ear and then my throat. “You’ll be safe here, Mack. I don’t want ye to worry about that. Alexei has given his word to keep ye safe.”

“No, Lachlan.”

He picks me up and tries to pry me off of him, but I keep fighting off the distance.

“I’m not letting you leave. I’m not letting you go back there without me. I can explain. I can try to fix things. I’ll make Niall understand. Anything… anything.”

He brushes his fingers over my lips to silence me. And then he leans in and whispers in my ear. “Ye must’ve been chewing on four leaf clovers all along,” he says.

I blink up at him in confusion.

He smiles. “I’m completely mad for you, sweetheart.”

Hands grab me from behind and drag me away as I scream. Lachlan gives me one last glance, and then he’s walking away from me. Out of the door, and out of my life forever.

I try to fight off whoever’s holding me back, but I can’t. I’m too emotional. It’s too much. It’s all too fucking much. It doesn’t matter anyway. Because when I feel another needle in my arm, I realize they aren’t giving me a choice.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Lachlan

I’ve always said you can’t trust a woman.

Mack wrecked every bit of common sense I had left in me. I was blind to it. Blind to everything else but her. Now there’s only one thing left to do.

I call Niall first and organize to meet him at the club. And then Ronan. He tries to argue my decision as I knew he would, but it’s useless. I will hand myself over to Niall and abide by whatever penalty he feels is necessary.

So long as it’s nothing to do with Mack.

I love her. Can hardly believe it myself, but it’s true. I’m fucking mad about the girl. I’d like to believe that if she’d only told me what the problem was, I’d have helped her. But I can’t say for certain that is true.

I knew Talia was trouble when she started working at the club. She was a bit too fond of one of the Russians. Dmitri, his name was. He wasn’t part of Alexei’s faction, but Ivan vouched for him at the door. That should’ve been my first clue. If I’d had any concrete evidence it was him involved in whatever happened to Mack’s friend, then sure I’d have sent him into the cellar for Ronan to deal with.

We do not tolerate that kind of shite in our club. You touch our women, you meet with Ronan. Simple as that. But Talia had only been working at Slainte for two weeks. She told me she was going on a holiday and she needed some time off. When the cops started sniffing about the place, Detective James mentioned he had reason to believe she ran off to Mexico for one reason or another. So I left it at that. The girl never saw anything, didn’t know anything, so it was no bother to me what she wanted to do with her life.

All of these events culminated to bring Mack into my life. I’d like to say that I’m sorry for it, that I wished it never happened, but that isn’t true. I am sorry for her mate. If anyone can find her, Alexei will.

Mack will be safe with him too. I know that much. It’s all that matters now. She didn’t do this with evil intent. I on the other hand have done plenty. I lied to her, hurt her… planned to hand her over to the Russians for my own selfish reasons. I don’t know what that says about me. But I meant what I told her.

I’d actually considered a life with her. How fucking stupid is that? Bringing a woman into this world is always a liability. This whole situation has wised me right up. Regardless of what lies ahead for me, the best thing I can do for Mack is to let her go. It’s the unselfish thing. The hard thing, too. I don’t want that. I wanted none of this. But I’ve no choice now.

Alexei gave me his word. He will get her out of the state. Set her up with a new identity. And Mack will never know if I live or die because she’ll only be told one thing.

To her, Lachlan Crow is and always will be- dead.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Mackenzie

When I wake up in a pitch black room in a bed that feels unfamiliar, dread snakes its way inside of me. I’m disoriented, exhausted, and for a moment, I have no idea where I am.

But when I sit up and glance out the window, I remember with painful clarity.

Lachlan.

Where the hell is he? And how could I just let him leave without me?

I’m in the middle of nowhere, but that isn’t going to stop me. I’m going to get to him. I’m not going to let him sacrifice himself for me.

I find my shoes near the end of the bed and pick them up so as not to make any noise. This house is much bigger on the inside, and from my vantage point I’d guess I’m on the second or third floor. When I get to the bedroom door, it opens without protest. I creep down the hall, pausing at a cracked door with a light on inside.

Someone’s probably in there, no doubt. And I have to walk right past it to get downstairs. How the hell I went from being trapped inside the Irish mafia to the Russian, I haven’t a clue. I have to wonder if there are more men here that I don’t know about. Surely, Lachlan must trust them to protect me. But he has to know I would do this. That I would try to get to him. What were his orders in such circumstances?

There’s only one way to find out.

I wait for a full two minutes and hear nothing. But instead of creeping past, my curiosity gets the better of me. I push open the door, and stand in the frame. Alexei is passed out on his desk, bottle of Cognac still in hand. But it isn’t the sight of him that has me in a state of shock. It’s the room filled with an entire wall of monitors that surrounds him.

My eyes rove over the screens, and it takes me a minute to realize what they’re for. There are live poker tournaments, chess games, horse racing, and pretty much anything that can be considered gambling on display.

It looks like there’s some kind of programmed bot set up. At the bottom of the screen, there are a bunch of codes running. I don’t have a clue what they mean, but I’ve got a pretty good guess. The Irish are working with the Russians. Is this what they’re dealing in? Illegal gambling rings?

Before I have a chance to come to a decision on my own, Alexei’s eyes snap open and find mine. He drags himself into an upright position and scrubs a hand over his face. He doesn’t look surprised in the slightest that I stumbled into this room, but I still have to wonder.

“Is this what the Irish are doing?” I blurt.

He gives me a cursory glance before pouring himself another glass of Cognac.

“What did you expect?” he arches a brow at me. “Backyard poker games?”

“Pretty much,” I admit.

“Those are the old ways.” He waves his hand around the room and shrugs. “This is the future.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask suspiciously.

“I’m not telling you anything you cannot see for yourself.”

“I have to go,” I tell him firmly.

He sighs. It’s clear he’s been expecting this.

“You want to go to Lachlan, yes?”

“Yes. And I need a car,” I suggest boldly.

“I wouldn’t recommend that.”

He’s not making a move towards me. He doesn’t even look like he intends to. But there’s something ominous about his words that make me hesitate instead of bolting out the door.

“And why not?”

He grabs a remote and points it towards the monitors, pressing a few buttons. And then my worst fears come to life.

There, on the screen in front of me, is Scarlett. She’s being held inside a hotel room by none other than Rory.

“What the fuck?” I scream. “He promised! He promised he wouldn’t hurt her!”

“She’s not being harmed,” Alexei says and then points. “Look.”

I do. I walk to the screen and take a closer look. Scarlett is curled up on the hotel bed watching tv. She doesn’t look uncomfortable, or like she’s been hurt in any way. But Rory isn’t talking to her. He isn’t even looking at her. He’s just sitting by the door, gun in hand, thumbing through a magazine.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and look at the man across from me. The one I don’t know, but who Lachlan trusts. I want to rip his throat out.

“You said you were going to help me,” I snap. “That’s what you told Lachlan.”

“This is me helping you,” he says. “And that is Lachlan’s insurance policy that you will do what I say. He knew you would cause trouble.”

My eyes water when the realization of my circumstances hits me. Lachlan is using Scarlett as leverage to keep me here.

“It’s entirely up to you whether or not your friend is harmed,” Alexei adds.

“How do I know you’re not just saying this for show?”

“Do you really want to find out?” he asks.

When I look at him, I know he’s mafia through and through. Dark and deadly. And I don’t doubt that he’d follow through on his unspoken threat, but I still can’t believe Lachlan would do this to me. He made me a promise. A promise that he broke. And he expects me to just let him forfeit his life while I’m trapped in this fucking house.

“There’s something else,” Alexei says.

I glance at him, still torn between what to do. I have to get to Lachlan. But I can’t let Scarlett get hurt. What the fuck am I going to do? I barely even hear his next words. Until he says the name that almost always rips my heart in two.

“Talia?”

“What?” I ask.

He points at the screen, and I swivel around again. And then I nearly collapse from the sight before me.

“This is her, yes?”

I stare at the photo on the screen, touching it as though it’s just an illusion. Something that he’s concocted to trick me. But it isn’t. She’s there, and she looks so thin and gaunt, and she’s wearing mere scraps of clothing. It’s just a shot of her body as she stands with her back against a blank wall. Almost like a mug shot, and I barely recognize the lifeless eyes staring back at me. This doesn’t make sense.

“Where is she?” I demand. “How did you get this?”

He doesn’t answer, and that’s when I remember he can’t hear. I swivel around and stare at him while I repeat my questions.

“I said I would help you find her,” he answers.

He stares past me and at the screen, looking at her face. I hate this guy for what he’s doing to me right now, but the way he’s looking at her… as though he’s really seeing her, it’s what I’ve wanted all along. What I begged of every detective I ever shoved this photo in front of. I just wanted them to see her. And for the first time, I finally feel like Alexei is.

“You know where she is?” I whisper.

He studies me before pouring himself another glass of Cognac.

“I’m tracking her,” he says. “But I know she is overseas. And I will continue to help you as long as you do what I ask.”

I ignore the threat in his tone and focus on the small bit of information I’m trying like hell to grasp. “What do you mean overseas?”

His eyes snap up to mine, and after a year of searching, I finally get my answer.

“She has been sold.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Mackenzie

I’m still grappling with what Alexei told me when a barrage of shouting echoes up from downstairs. I glance at Alexei, wondering if he can hear it too.

He’s already got his hand on the remote, flipping through the monitors. My attention darts back to the screen to find Ronan storming through the halls of the house with Franco hot on his heels. Alexei stalks out of the room and I follow, and eventually we all converge at the base of the stairs.

Ronan doesn’t even spare me a glance, and he’s even more stiff than usual. Something is off. He clips out a stream of perfect Russian, or at least what sounds like perfect Russian. I can’t understand any of it, but soon him and Alexei are arguing.

“English, please?” I ask.

Ronan flashes his eyes at me, only for a second, but they are shining with hatred.

“Is he okay?” I demand. “Is Lach okay?”

“He sent me to take you to another safe house,” Ronan says. “This one’s been compromised.”

I glance at Alexei, who doesn’t look convinced. To be honest, I’m not really either. But Ronan couldn’t have known I was here unless Lachlan told him, right? And he’s always trusted Ronan to be my handler. Still, something about this feels fishy. But if there’s a chance for me to get back to Lachlan somehow, I’m going to take it.

“I will deliver the girl personally,” Alexei says. “If what you say is true, you should have no problem with this.”

Ronan gives a stiff nod.

The next two minutes is a blur of Alexei barking out demands in Russian to Franco and Ronan watching me carefully. They usher me out the door and into a silver car while Ronan climbs into the Beamer and takes his place in front of us.

As we drive through the forest, I try to formulate an escape plan. Now I have three men to shake off, and it isn’t going to be so easy. Especially considering I gave Ronan the slip once, I highly doubt he’s going to let that happen again.

But it doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever it takes, I tell myself. I have to. Because I can’t let Lachlan sacrifice himself for me and the mistakes I’ve made. I can’t let him die because of my actions. I love him. I love him so fucking much it’s crazy. I thought I was incapable of such things. I know I’m incapable of loving anyone else this way.

I don’t know how he did that. How he got past my armor. But he did. He tore it all to bits.

Ronan’s brake lights flash ahead of us.

Franco snaps out something in Russian, and both him and Alexei pull out their guns.

“What’s going on?” I shove my head between the seats, trying to see what’s happening.

The next thing I know, there are two loud pops and a hiss of air as the front tires of the car deflate. Alexei and Franco are speaking in Russian, glancing behind us, and I’m getting the gist that someone’s just fired those shots from the trees somewhere.

So why the hell is Ronan stopped?

Glass shatters as they take out the tail lights next.

“Jesus!” I duck and take cover. “Who the fuck is shooting at us now?”

The men jump out of the front and crouch behind the doors as they fire back. There seems to be some confusion about which direction the bullets are coming from. Like there might be two shooters. And I know instinctively, one of them is Ronan. Either way, I’m not going to stick around to find out. I grab for the door handle and fling it open. I know we’re a whole hell of a long way off the beaten path here, but I’ve got to get away from these crazy motherfuckers.

Ronan’s got to be absolutely frigging nuts, shooting at the Russians like this.

He has to know this is going to start a war. I can’t understand what’s happening, but honestly, I don’t care. I don’t have time for whatever the hell they’re doing, or whatever plan they’ve concocted for me. I just need to get to Lachlan.

I army crawl across the forest floor, my chest heaving with relief as the sound of gunfire grows more and more distant. Pine needles and cold gravel dig into my skin, but none of that matters. As soon as I’m far enough away, I’ll start running. I’ll steal a car if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes.

All these thoughts are going through my head and they’re the only thing I can focus on. So when someone grabs me from behind and covers my mouth with a foul smelling cloth, it catches me off guard. Much too late, I realize I’ve just been chloroformed.

***

When I wake up again, I’m hog-tied on the back seat of Ronan’s car. I’ve got a wicked bad headache and the way my body feels I’m guessing they weren’t all too gentle when they went about the business of tying me up.

I wrangle myself into an upright position and glance out the window. We’re on the freeway, headed back towards Boston. Relief swells inside of me like a balloon, but it’s short lived.

Conor is riding shotgun, and he’s pale as a sheet. Ronan’s grip is like a vice on the steering wheel, and nothing about this situation is making any sense at all.

“What happened to Alexei?” I demand.

Ronan’s gaze meets mine in the rear-view mirror, and it’s never looked colder.

“Are ye sympathizing with the Russians now?” he asks. “Lachlan told me ye hated them. Not surprised that was a lie too.”

I ignore his jab and focus on what’s important. “There’s no way Lach would have authorized you starting a war with the Russians. I want to know what’s going on.”

Ronan laughs. A cold, dark laugh that reaches deep inside of me to unlock an entire vault full of dread. What if he was right in front of me all along? What if he’s the rat? It never even occurred to me before, but now…

“Where are you taking me?” I press. “I want to see Lachlan.”

“Oh ye’re going to see Lachlan alright,” he says. “Didn’t I tell ye what’d happen if you fucked him over?”

Conor glances back at me, and he looks like he’s going to be sick. And that’s when I realize Ronan isn’t the rat at all. He’s gone rogue. To protect Lachlan.

“You’re taking me to Niall,” I say quietly. “Aren’t you?”

Ronan doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. His hatred towards me is rolling off him in waves. His loyalty to Lachlan runs much deeper than I ever could have expected. And there’s a good chance he’ll be paying a heavy price for this as well.

“What about Scarlett?” I ask quietly. “She didn’t have anything to do with this… please…”

Ronan keeps his eyes fixed on the road, but his voice is calm and steady. “No harm will come to her.”

I believe him. I don’t know if it’s just because I have to, that I can’t accept any other option, but I do believe him when he says this. I sit back against the seat and the car falls silent as we drive on. Though I know they aren’t going to be very receptive to anything I have to say, I talk anyway.

“I never wanted to hurt him. I was just trying to find out what happened to my friend.”

As I expect, neither of them responds.

For the rest of the ride, I try to formulate the words that will clear Lachlan. That will absolve him of any guilt in this situation. But they don’t come to me. I don’t know what I’m going to say when I face Niall. I only hope I can make it count.

When we pull up to the back of Slainte, it’s after hours. The club is shut down, but the familiar cars of Lach’s crew fill up the lot. Ronan opens the backdoor and removes the binds before tugging me to my feet.

And then he stares at me, with the briefest moment of hesitation.

“Ye shouldn’t have done it,” he says quietly.

And then he’s tugging me along, Conor dragging his feet beside me. When we get inside, the place is dead quiet. Ronan and Conor glance at each other, and then Ronan jerks his head towards the basement. They usher me along and down the stairs. Ronan unlocks a room I’ve never been in before and then gives me one last look of regret before he swings the door open.

When I get a look inside, I know this is where I’m going to die.

***

Lachlan

Fucking Ronan.

It makes no difference that the Russians are banging down our doors. The moment I spot him, I clatter him in the face. He lets me get two in before Rory yanks me away.

“I did it for your own good,” he snarls. “I won’t allow ye to give yourself up for her.”

Sentimental bastard. He doesn’t understand. Though I’d venture if it was Sasha’s arse on the line he’d be whistling a different tune.

“That wasn’t your decision to make,” I tell him.

“Both of youse shut the fuck up,” Niall yells. “We’ve got your mess to clean up now.”

Ronan and I both follow Niall down the hall without another word. He nods at Conor, and the front door opens. Alexei, Franco, Viktor, and the rest of their outfit filter inside. They’re loaded down with armed weapons, as are we.

Alexei meets my eyes briefly before he turns his head away. He’s aware this wasn’t my doing. It’s out of my control, as is whatever happens next.

“I want a word with Niall,” Viktor says. “In private.”

Sean and I both step forward, but Viktor holds up his hand.

“Only him.” He points at Alexei.

The lot of them walk down the hall towards my office to seal my fate. There’s no question what they’ll be discussing in that room. Everything I’ve ever wanted is being torn from my hands right in front of me. None of it matters. The burn of uncertainty is only made worse by the fact I still haven’t a clue where Mack is.

Ronan took her against my knowledge. I’m going to murder him the first chance I get.

Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. When thirty have come and gone, the agitation is getting to me. Something about this isn’t right.

A gunshot goes off, and a moment later, we’re all holding our weapons at each other. Franco tells his men to stand down in Russian as he eyes me off.

“We’ll check it out together,” he says.

Him and I both walk down the hall in silence. The office door is cracked, and all three men have their guns pointed at the door in confusion.

“That wasn’t in here?”

“No,” Niall curses.

My eyes move to the floor beneath as Viktor speaks.

“Ivan’s downstairs, yes?”

Niall must’ve told Viktor we captured him. If they’ve got one of their men down there, this is not going to end well.

“He’s a traitor.”

“Lachlan,” Niall’s voice is thin with warning, but I can’t look at him. My eyes are locked onto Viktor, waiting for his next move.

“He will be handled accordingly,” Viktor says.

“Aye, he will,” I say. “By our lads.”

“He isn’t the only one downstairs,” Conor says from the doorway.

His eyes are wide, and he doesn’t need to say anything else. I’m legging it downstairs before I’ve even fully processed what’s happening. The lads are following me, but Ronan must be down there already.

All of us come to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. As I anticipated, Ivan is shot and laying in a pool of blood on the floor. But it isn’t by one of the Russians.

Above him, Mandy and Donny both have a grip on Mack, each of them holding a gun to her head as they lead her towards the back door. My first instinct is to go to her, and my body obeys.

“Don’t come any closer!” Mandy yells.

The gun in her hand flies in my direction, and Mack starts pleading with her. Mandy’s eyes are crazed, her hair wild, and there’s blood smeared all over her shirt. I can’t wrap my head around what’s happening here.

“Mandy, what in the bleeding hell are ye doing?”

“She’s coming with us,” she says. “Don’t come any closer, Lachlan, or I will shoot you.”

They inch further away, and I follow.

Niall and Viktor descend the stairs, along with the rest of the Russians, and fear like I’ve never known grips me. They’ve all got their guns drawn, and they’re all pointing in the direction of my girl.

“Mack.”

She holds up her hand and her big blue eyes are glassy when they fall upon me.

“Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me.”

Her lip trembles, and she glances between Mandy and Donny. He’s smiling, his teeth bloody and his eyes crazed. She must have hit him in the face already.

“What is this?” Viktor demands from behind me, his voice escalating to fury. “This was not the plan.”

Niall tries to calm him while I keep my eyes trained on Mack, looking for a way out of this. But Mandy keeps dragging her further away while Donny looks for any excuse to unload his weapon.

“Everybody stay back!” Mandy orders again.

I glance at Niall and he and Viktor both order the lot of us to stand down. There’s no clear shot. Mandy’s taller than Mack, but she’s crouching down and using her body for protection. She’s almost to the door, and I can’t let her go.

She shot Ivan. Something I never would’ve guessed she’d be capable of. I’m afraid she could easily do it to Mack too. With Donny, there isn’t even a question. His sadistic smile tells me exactly what he plans to do.

I bolt forward, and Mandy pauses to thrust the gun towards me.

“Lach, no,” Mack pleads. “I’m sorry for everything, but this was the plan all along. We’re working together.”

I freeze on the spot, staring at her in confusion. There’s no way that could be true. But Mack’s expression is flat and cold. And Mandy’s smiling like she’s just pulled off her best performance yet.

I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. I move forward again when Niall and Ronan both grab me from behind. I’m fighting them off, but it’s too late. Mandy and Donny have slipped out the door, taking Mack with them.

Niall moves to my side. He’s holding his phone towards me, speaking, but I can barely hear him. I’m still looking at the door. Was Mack really lying to me about that too?

“It’s a message from her friend Scarlett,” he says.

Finally, I glance down, and realize I was wrong. It wasn’t Mandy. Mack was the one who gave her grandest performance yet.

To save me.

Ronan rips the phone out of my hand and gives me a shake to get myself together. Niall and Alexei hand us some extra ammunition, and then we disappear out the door behind them.

Chapter Forty

Mackenzie

Mandy opens the driver’s side door and shoves me inside before she climbs into the back seat. Donny is in the passenger seat, leering at me with all of the sick shit he obviously has in store. They both keep their guns on me the entire time Mandy barks out her instructions.

“Drive,” she snarls.

I turn the key in the ignition and fumble with it. I’ve only ever driven a car twice, but I’m not about to tell her that.

“Hurry the fuck up!”

I get the key turned and put the car in drive. I press the gas too hard and we burn rubber out of the parking lot. In the rear-view mirror, I can just see Lachlan and his men filing out of the building and running towards the lot.

Great. A car chase.

There’s no doubt he’s going to kill me now. But I don’t regret it. I had to protect him. I did and said what I had to.

Mandy directs me onto the interstate, and it isn’t long before a black SUV is right behind us. Ronan’s at the wheel, Lachlan in the passenger seat beside him. They are keeping a distance, and they aren’t shooting at us. I don’t know what’s going on, but I guess they figure we have to stop sometime.

I have no clue what Mandy’s endgame is here, but I know it can’t be good.

I glance in the mirror at her, and her crazy is on display for all the world to see. Her hair is a tangled mess, and she keeps looking at me with that same familiar hatred I can’t understand. Cars are whizzing by us, and my hands are so tight on the steering wheel my knuckles are white and my fingers numb.

“Faster!” she barks.

I press down on the accelerator, and the car surges forward. Donny’s free hand creeps over to my thigh and grips me so hard I cringe.

“I told you I’d have my way with you,” he says. “When this is all over, I’ll have fucked you six ways from Sunday.”

I’m fighting the urge to backhand the shit out of him when I hear the cocking of a gun. I glance over, and Mandy’s got her gun pressed against his head.

“Hand me your weapons,” she says. “Or so help me, I’ll blow your fucking brains out right here in the middle of the interstate.”

“What the fuck?” Donny snarls.

Mandy whips him in the face with the butt of her gun and his nose starts gushing blood.

“Fucking do it!” she screams.

Donny hands her the gun and holds his other hand up to stem the bleeding.

“The knife strapped to your leg too,” she orders.

He reaches down and pulls out the knife and hands it back to her. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him speechless. I’ve got no clue what’s going on here, but it’s obvious I was wrong about Mandy. She wasn’t the one being played in this situation at all.

After she stashes his weapons somewhere safe, she holds the gun between us, ready to shoot either one of us who tries to make a move. The car is silent for a long time, and the wheels are turning in my brain as I try to figure out what to do.

“You don’t remember me,” Mandy says out the blue. “Do you?”

I glance at her in the mirror again, and I can’t hide my confusion.

“Should I?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I knew you wouldn’t. Donny didn’t either.”

Donny and I both look at each other, and we’re wearing matching expressions of confusion.

“It’s not surprising I guess,” Mandy says. “Considering she didn’t either. That’s three for three.”

“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.”

Chapter Forty-One

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.”

I swallow down the emotion in my throat and focus on Lachlan. I can’t believe they have to do this, because of me. It’s painful to watch, and I’m pissed as hell that Lach didn’t tell me about it. Before things get too bad, I take out my phone and send a quick text to Sasha to let her know what’s happening. Even though Ronan won’t admit it, I think it would mean a lot to him if she took care of him after.

The way that I plan to take care of Lach.

I shove my phone back into my pocket and cringe when Boris throws out a hook and socks Lachlan right in the jaw. He goes down with this one, and Ronan has to hold me back as I watch the Russian climb on top of Lach. He throws another series of punches, and blood is flying off of Lachlan’s face from every hit.

“Tell him to tap out!” I yell at Ronan.

But Lach won’t. He’s too fucking stubborn for that.

I’m sobbing now, waving my arms across the room at Johnny, trying to get his attention. I need him to stop this. I need him to call it. He sees me waving frantically and gives me a sad shake of his head.

It’s not over yet. Not until Lachlan taps out or knocks out.

I watch in horror as the guy pummels Lachlan into the ground relentlessly. Ronan is holding me back, and I’m screaming hysterically while people around me look at me like I’m insane. When his arms go limp and he stops fighting, I start screaming at Johnny again.

And finally, he calls the match.

I barely make it into the ring before I collapse onto Lachlan, pleading for him to be okay.

Chapter Forty-Two

Mackenzie

Lachlan is on a good dose of Oxy and whatever else the new doc at the fights pumped him full of before he sent us on our way.

Now I’m sitting in the bedroom with him, stroking his hair beneath my fingers. I know he’s okay, because he briefly woke up on the way home a few times. He refused to go to the hospital, but Conor’s got another doctor coming over to check up on him and Ronan. Sasha is in the parlor with him, and he’s in about as good of shape as Lach is.

I’m not expecting any other company, nor do I want it. So when Niall pokes his head into the room, it catches me off guard.

“Mind if I have a seat?” he asks.

I give him a tight smile. Like he even needs to ask. I’m still not sure what to make of this guy. But Lach respects him, and so I will too, for his sake.

“It was a very noble thing he did, wouldn’t ye say?”

“Noble,” I mutter. “Or stupid. Depending on who you ask.”

Niall smiles at me.

“His loyalty to ye has surprised me, I must admit. I didn’t see that coming.”

“That makes two of us,” I answer. “Is that his payment finished now?”

“Aye.” Niall nods. “They’ve agreed to wipe the slate clean. And ye know what Lachlan has agreed to give up for ye.”

I stare at his face in its relaxed state of sleep and wonder if I’m being selfish by wanting to hang onto him. But I can’t let him go either.

“Do ye love him too, then?” Niall asks.

“Yes.” I blink back my tears. “More than anything.”

“Would ye stand by him then,” Niall says. “No matter what may come?”

“Yes.”

“Give him children and be loyal to him for the rest of your days?”

“Of course.”

“Are ye not afraid to walk this path with him?” Niall asks.

“Not if he’s by my side,” I reply.

Niall smiles, and it’s genuine. “Then I believe the lad has chosen well. He’s proven his loyalty beyond measure. And for that, he will be rewarded.”

It takes me a moment to catch on, but when I do, I feel pride swelling in my chest. “You’re going to promote him?”

Niall stands and walks towards the door. “I think he’s earned it.”

And with that, he disappears down the hall.

***

A week has passed since Lachlan took the fall at the fights. He’s mostly better now, except for a few bumps and bruises. After I chewed him out, I spoiled him in every way that I could think of. Which included a lot of makeup sex and pancakes.

Niall stopped by to see him again when he was in a more lucid state of mind to break the news. In fact, the house has had more people in it these last few days than it ever has.

Scarlett’s been hanging out around a lot. She’s in this world now too, whether I wanted it or not. And Rory can’t seem to take his eyes off her. It’s too bad for him that I know Scarlett won’t let him in. She never lets anyone in.

Tonight’s the night it all becomes official. The syndicate will promote Lach in some sort of private ritual and then we’re all going to celebrate at Slainte. I’ve spent the last two hours getting ready and trying to pick a dress out. When I finally feel like I’ve decided, Lach appears in the doorway, looking as handsome as ever in his normal clothes.

“I’ve got something to say to ye,” he announces.

I tear my eyes away from the closet and move towards him. “Okay, what is it?”

His fingers are tapping against his thigh again.

“I know ye didn’t want this life,” he says. “Ye had no desire to be a part of this world…”

His words drift off and he looks at me, his face uncertain as he continues.

“And maybe it’s selfish of me to want to bring you into it,” he says. “But I do. I want to take care of ye, and protect ye, and any future children we might have as well. I swear to ye that I will. That I will do right by you, and the syndicate will too. You’ll never have to worry about that again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want ye to marry me, Mack,” he says.

His words send a jolt of both terror and excitement through me. I never thought I’d be the marrying type. I’m so not that girl. But looking up at Lachlan, and after everything we’ve been through together, there’s no question in my mind. I would marry this man today if he’d still have me. I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says. But there’s something else weighing down my hopes.

“Is it because you have to?” I ask. “To keep me alive?”

“No.” His face grows serious. “There’s an out if ye want one. A whole new identity. Alexei can set ye up elsewhere if that’s what ye want.”

His entire body is tense, and I can see how much he wants this. Wants me. Maybe it’s crazy, but I want him too. I can’t let him go. I reach up and stroke his face, and he closes his eyes and relaxes beneath my touch.

“Every King needs his Queen, right?”

“What?” his eyes fly open and he pulls me closer.

“Yes, Lachlan.” I smile. “I will proudly be your wife.”

Forgetting his injuries, he kisses me hard and then groans.

“How much time do we have before we go?” I ask.

Lachlan pulls me over to the bed and starts to undress. “When it comes to you, Mack, I’ve always got time.”

Epilogue

Mackenzie

“This is crazy,” Sasha whispers. “I can’t believe you really did it.”

“I know,” I agree.

I think I’ve gone half mental. “I’m in it for life now.”

This afternoon, in front of all of these people, Lachlan and I got married. I swore a blood oath to remain loyal to my husband and followed it up with a hand fasting ceremony. I’m not the flowers and white Cinderella dresses type of girl, which turned out for the best. He made me wear blue. An Irish thing, apparently. There were also some bracelets that involved bells and something about fairies, most of which I didn’t understand. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered to me was the man standing at the end of the aisle, vowing to love and protect me until his last breath. I know he meant it too.

After everything that’s happened, I was honestly pretty gobsmacked at how easily Niall accepted me into the fold. And even though I can’t help it, there’s still a part of me that feels guilty for all of this. Because Talia couldn’t be here. It’s a bittersweet moment as I look out at the new family that has accepted me as one of their own. The thing that I always wanted, and now I finally have. I know that every single one of these men will kill for me now if need be, and my future children as well. They’ve already fought for me. For Lachlan. And for that reason alone I will stay loyal to the organization that protects him.

Lachlan grins at me from across the room and beckons for me. Everybody is here. Literally, like every frigging member of their outfit and their wives and girlfriends and kids and anyone else they could squeeze into the club.

“You better go to him,” Sasha teases. There’s a note of sadness in her voice and loneliness in her eyes. “He’ll just come to you if you don’t.”

“That’s the way it should be,” I tell her with a grin. “Make them work for it every once in a while.”

She laughs, and I glance across the room towards Ronan. He still hasn’t fully forgiven me, but he is grunting responses now instead of the full on silent treatment. So I guess we’re getting somewhere.

“You should go dance with Ronan,” I suggest.

Sasha laughs and shakes her head. “Naw. He’s not the dancing type.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I agree. “He’s more of the sit in the corner and brood type. Maybe you could go brood with him then?”

She smiles and shrugs, but I know she won’t. The two of them are both more stubborn than Lachlan and I by far, and that’s saying a lot.

Speaking of the devil, he snakes his arms around my waist and kisses the side of my neck. “Come with me.”

I don’t have much of a choice since he practically drags me down the hall to his office. He shuts the door behind us, and a minute later he’s got me on his desk, rubbing his hands all over my body.

“Mrs. Crow.” He unzips his pants and holds his cock in his hand like a weapon as he stares down at me seriously. “Are ye ready for me to put a baby in you?”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing and nod instead. He’s acting so serious. Like his sheer determination and will is what’s going to do it. I’ve been off the pill for months, and once things finally settled between the territories, we agreed to start trying. Now we go through this every other week when he gets it into his head that this time is going to be the time.

Maybe it’s wrong to want to bring a baby into this life. But I want these things with Lach. I can’t deny that. I want the whole package. And Lachlan is more protective than ever. We even moved into a new house with full time security. It’s a little over the top, but after everything that’s happened he’s not taking any chances with me.

He cups my face as he positions himself between my legs and pushes inside of me. He only just had me this morning, but I knew he wouldn’t be able to wait. I don’t want to either. I grab his ass and pull him deeper with a groan.

He takes his time with me, even though we have a room full of people out there waiting for us. I wait until his breathing grows harsh and then I reach up and bring my lips to his ear.

“Lachlan.”

“Aye, sweetheart?” he grunts.

“You’ve already put a baby inside me.”

I smile when he comes unexpectedly and then blinks open his eyes, staring at me in disbelief.

“Ye’re joking.”

“Nope,” I laugh. “I took a test this morning. Five of them in fact.”

“Holy shite,” he mutters.

And then he kisses me hard and deep.

“I love you,” I murmur against him.

He brushes his lips down my throat, and I can already feel him swelling inside of me as he thinks about what he’s accomplished.

“I’m completely mad for ye, sweetheart.”

We’re both smiling at each other when something breaks the silence between us. It’s my cell phone. And normally I wouldn’t even think twice about answering it. Except for the fact that everybody I already know is right here in this building.

Lachlan sees the expression on my face, and hands me my bag. I rifle through it and flip open the phone, bringing it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Mack?”

My heart leaps into my throat and tears spring to my eyes when I hear the voice on the other end of the line. “Talia?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “It’s me.”

“Are you okay?” I ask. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” she answers. “I can’t talk very long though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just…” Her voice cracks, and then it grows stronger and more determined with every word. “I just wanted you to know that I’m okay. And that you shouldn’t worry about me anymore.”

“What do you mean don’t worry about you?” I demand.

“I’m safe,” she repeats. “And I’m not coming home.”

“Talia…”

“I have to go, Mack,” she says. “I just wanted to say congratulations on your wedding. And that I love you, and I miss you so much. But I’m okay now, and I have you to thank for that.”

I don’t even get a chance to reply, because she hangs up, and the line goes dead. I look up at Lachlan, and we both say it at the same time.

“Alexei has found her.”

***

Thank you so much for reading CROW. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving an honest review on Amazon or Goodreads. You can keep an eye out for my other book releases by following me on Facebook or signing up for my Newsletter.

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Acknowledgments

Okay, here we go.

It seems to me this list continues to grow, which can only mean one thing. I have some really awesome friends and an amazing support system.

Once again I have to give a huge shoutout to Dani Kermon because without you, I’m fairly certain I would have been left to the devices of google. This book would not have been possible without your feedback and tips on all things Irish. Also Kelly in Belfast and Mike in Limerick. Thank you!

To my lovely beta reader Amy Halter… how’d I get so lucky to find you? You’ve been so helpful on this and my other books, I cannot thank you enough for everything you do including your work in the street team.

Melissa Crump. You are the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Seriously, you have helped me so much that I really can’t even find the words to express my gratitude. I’ve had a blast getting to know you and doing takeovers and talking books with you.

Dark Rebels. I’m pretty sure you guys are the best street team ever! Thank you for helping to get the word out and also the fun conversations we’ve had over the last month or so. A special thank you to Kristina Lindsey, Louise Brodie, Victoria Stolte, Helena Rizzuto, Melissa Crump, and Amy Halter for all of your hard work in January.

Works by A. Zavarelli

Echo: A Bleeding Hearts Novel Volume One

Stutter: A Bleeding Hearts Novel Volume Two

Falling into Temptation

Falling into Exposure

Falling into Surrender

Falling Series Boxed Set

An Escort for Christmas

One Last Gift

Table of Contents

Cover

CROW

Boston Underworld #1

Crow © 2016 A. Zavarelli

Playlist:

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Epilogue

Facebook

Acknowledgments

Works by A. Zavarelli