Holy cannoli!
“Mac. STOP!” I yelled, panicked.
The air stalled in my lungs with an audible gasp. I was so not expecting the sight before me. Mac’s mahogany desk was turned over on its side, papers strewn all over the place, a total wreck. I figured out pretty damn quickly why there wasn’t any more shouting going on. A teeth-bared, chests-puffed, snarling, foaming-at-the-mouth standoff was happening a few feet away. Mac had a gun trained on Ferdi’s head. He, in turn, had his gun pointed at the center of Mac’s chest. I hesitated, unsure if I should enter this lion’s den without a whip and a chair in hopes of separating these two beasts. Perhaps they’d appeal to my damsel in distress act.
“Please, Darragh. You’re scaring me. Put the gun away,” I beseeched.
“Good to see you again, Odie. Wish it were under better circumstances,” Ferdi greeted without turning to face me. “Darragh and I were just discussing the merits of working smarter and not harder. What say you on the subject, sweetheart?”
Mac’s finger adjusted on the trigger. “Call her sweetheart again, fucknuts, and I guarantee you, working smarter will be the least of your worries.”
Jesus. Testosterone overload.
“Um…playing dumb never bothered me none, Ferdi,” I tittered. “How about you put the gun down so we can talk this over, the three of us? If by chance we can’t figure it out, we could Google it or some shit.”
Neither one made a move to relinquish their power position, both prepared to dig in for the long haul. I turned on the waterworks, complete with sniffles and hard sobs. That got their attention long enough for them to spear me a glance and take a deep breath. A few more grunts, hard stares, and a promise to “finish this shit later down the road”, they disbursed. Once the guns were finally sheathed, I attacked.
“You two motherfuckers”—I pointed between the both of them—“need to take a chill pill. The next time you want to play cowboys and Indians, make sure I’m not around to see it. I got enough to worry about without the two of you trying to kill each other.”
I took a seat on the leather sofa, folded my arms under my breasts, and scowled at the two morons who I assumed were friends as well as business partners. Imagine what could’ve happened if I hadn’t interrupted their little show of my dick is bigger than yours?
Mac glared daggers at Ferdi. “We don’t involve my father, and we are going to those fights tonight. So, strap up, check the weight of your cock, and meet me back here at eight.”
“It’s not my cock you should be worried about, brother,” Ferdi rallied.
Enough was enough.
“Alright, fellas.” I stood and approached the angry mobster. He seemed to be the safest bet. “Would you mind giving us some time to talk, Ferdi? I really would appreciate it.”
Pays to be nice to others, that’s my moto.
“He’s all yours,” he grunted, shouldering past us. “I’ll be back before eight, prick.”
I waited until we were alone before poking the beast. Mac looked a little rabid with his disheveled dark hair and rumpled clothing, still sexy as all hell but a bit unhinged. I stood quietly and observed this dubious individual who was once my captor. The gun incident had obviously disturbed his usually put-together demeanor. I wondered if he really would’ve pulled the trigger, or was it all for show? One look, and I realized that the answer to that question was a resounding yes. Mac didn’t operate on pretense. If he pulled it, he was damn sure ready to use it.
It took him a while to settled down enough to right his desk and pour himself a drink. I had no idea what time it was, but I guessed it was twelve o’clock somewhere. He took a heaping sip, and I waited until some of the tension left his shoulders and his breathing evened out.
“Care to tell me what that was all about? If you wanted to flash me your big pistol, there are better ways to go about doing that.”
He didn’t get the joke.
“Ferdi forgets who the boss is sometimes. I was just giving him a little reminder,” he replied.
“Okay, tough guy. Want to explain how I ended up in that room, in that bed…. again?”
“No.” Okkaay.
For as much as I wanted to dwell on his non-answer answers, there was something else that took priority over his supposed ill feelings. Last night, my home, my sanctuary, my safe place, was violated. I had a strong suspicion it had something to do with Mac and his mob cronies. Who else would tack a dead fish to my door and cover it with blood? I didn’t have enemies. Shit was brewing in his world, and somehow, I had gotten caught up in the mix.
“Do you know what happened at my house last night, Darragh?”
His shoulders tensed, the muscles around his collarbone bunched together as the grip on the glass he was holding tightened. I wouldn’t allow him to evade this time, not when my life was in jeopardy, or so it would seem. My patience was wearing thin waiting for him to kick his shit into gear and start talking. I stood to leave, determined to find my answers elsewhere.
“A man named Kellan O’Brien is trying to take over my business,” he replied.
Leave it up to him to mention the only thing he gave a flying fuck about, his goddamn fight club. Kidnapping? Well, that’s ok, I’ll call you my invited guest cause I’m a money hungry bastard. Blackmail? If he dies, let em’. He knew the risk. Murder? Friend or foe, my enterprise is my top priority. I continued to move towards the door. He wasn’t being forthcoming, and I was sick of his bullshit.
“I’m out of here, Mac. Good luck with all that.”
The crash of glass stopped me from reaching for the handle.
“Ferdi found one of those home surveillance cameras a few feet down the road from your place. Pulled the footage and ran the plate on a car that drove away right around the time of the incident. It was registered to a holding company that’s a legitimate front for a shipping conglomerate out of Boston.” He ran a hand down his face, contemplating if he wanted to continue or not. I decided for him.
“Well, thanks for the…whatever the fuck that was.” I gave him the screw face. “They obviously had the wrong house since the only person I know from Boston is YOU, so with that said, I’m off to work.”
Mac pinned me with a hard stare, his voice dropping an octave. “Kellum O’Brien also owns the holding company that registered the car in question, Otelia. So, you see, we have a big fucking problem. Somehow, you landed on his fucking radar, and that, in and of itself, is not a coincidence. Women in our circle aren’t subject to this kind of …intimidation. It’s…”
I interrupted his grim explanation. “Can you stop him, Mac, you and Ferdi?’
He met my eyes on an exhale, conflicted. “It’s not that simple, Otelia. O’Brien is a boss, head of his family in the syndicate, and I’m …not. There are rules that must be followed, protocols, none of which I expect you to understand. The situation is delicate.”
“Delicate? I don’t even know that motherfucker. What the hell? I shouldn’t be on anyone’s radar, much less a Boston crime boss. This is bullshit, Mac,” I screeched.
“We’re trying to come up with a solution, but it’s going to take time. Time we don’t have.”