“For one, Mac isn’t part of the mob. He’s his own man. You know that as well as I do, trick. Secondly, and here’s the rub…” I leaned in as far as I could and bared my teeth.
“He. Doesn’t. Want. You.”
“Silly, silly girl. Darragh not only wants me, he’s already had me, starting with the same night you went to his warehouse dressed in your hooker dress and knock-off shoes. I’m surprised you couldn’t smell me on him when he brought you to the edge of the ring and held you in his arms. I assumed that was the reason why you ran off so quickly. Guess I was wrong.”
Ouch.
That hurt.
I held back the impulse to spit in her eye.
Bitch was cracked worse than I thought.
“Kellan adored you,” I rasped. “He would’ve given you anything. His body is barely cold, and you’re already trying to replace him with someone you used to fuck as a teenager? What about his love? You pissed on it when you brought me here for no reason. I’m not in your way, Bella. Mac doesn’t give a shit about me. Take him if you want, but leave me out of this.”
“I wish I could dear, Odie, but unfortunately, someone has to take the blame.”
“Blame for what?” I screeched.
“All in due time, sweetness, all in due time.” She re-applied the gag between my lips. “As for my dead husband, well…let’s just say, he’s in a better place.”
The bitch doubled over into a deep belly laugh as if her statement was the most hilarious thing in the world. She eventually stood and straightened her dress, re-applying the mask of bereaved wife before she covered my head with the hood. I screamed around the gag for this bitch to let me go, but it was useless. She had me at her mercy, like a fattened-up pig hung upside down by the ankles waiting to be slaughtered. Bella obviously had an agenda that somehow involved me, and all the secretiveness was part of her game. I only hoped that Mac would see through her bullshit and reject her advances.
I heard her voice as it echoed from far away inside the room.
“Two hours from now, you’ll be a bloodstain on the cement floor, Otelia. I’ll give Darragh your best regards when I’m done sucking his beautiful cock. By the way, the next time you find a dead fish on your door, heed the warning, sweetheart. Never stay in the water if it’s above your head. You’ll drown.”
Holy shit.
It was all her.
But why?
The door slammed shut as she exited, and I was left alone with my thoughts and prayers. I cried silent tears that soaked through the darkened fabric of the hood. I closed my eyes and whispered. I thought it would be Gates who’d appear in the recesses of my mind, but it wasn’t. Mac stood in all his criminal glory with open arms, waiting for me to rush towards his warm embrace. Once our bodies intertwined, I felt whole again, stronger, more centered.
“Hope is not lost,” his low voice rasped.
In his arms was where I chose to stay.
Time, as always, ticked slowly away.
CHAPTER 39
MacCabe
I HAD BEEN stuck in Boston over the last two days at my father’s insistence. The premature death of Kellan O’Brien left me vulnerable to speculation from some of the heads of families, assumptions I needed to answer for in person as a sign of respect. Although I wasn’t officially part of the organization, they allowed me to operate within its confines. Hence, I had no choice but to play nice. I hated being summoned like a child, and having to account for my whereabouts flat-out pissed me the fuck off. My father, in his infinite wisdom, was acting in the best interest of the entire MacCabe clan, not just his youngest son. Didn’t mean I had to roll over and make it easy for him to grill me like a ribeye steak.
Information had been trickling in over the last twenty-four hours. Unlike the police, we had the means to track down leads quickly, bust some heads if necessary, and weed through the bullshit to find answers. What we knew so far was that O’Brien was killed sloppily near his home, amateur work at best, which was not indicative of a sanctioned mob hit. Something about that whole thing was off—the timing, the details, the target himself. Add that to our obvious beef, the attempt on Otelia’s life, the average Joe fights, and shit just wasn’t adding up. Who would be so fucking bold as to murder a boss and thought they could get away with it? Shit made my dick itch just thinking about it. Oran, Spoon, Ferdi, and I stood around the large spacious office looking the worse for wear while my father maintained his normal composed façade.
“Alright, let’s go over it again,” he announced to the room.
“This is pointless,” I growled. “I have business back in Remington that can’t wait.”
“Your business is right the fuck here, Darragh,” Oran seethed. “If it weren’t for your pussy ways and bullshit attitude, we wouldn’t be here trying to cover your ass.”
I approached him steadily. “Oran, you’re my brother, and I love you, but if you ever speak to me that way again, I’ll rip out your eyeballs and skull fuck you to death.”
“And if you ever threaten me again, you little cunt, you won’t have a town to go back to, slick,” he volleyed.
“Take it easy,” my father instructed. “Darragh understands that this isn’t a social call and we’re only trying to cover all our bases.”
He paused to address Oran.
“A good leader never loses his cool, never takes the bait, regardless of his audience. Remember, the quietest one in the room is the strongest one in the room. Don’t allow strength of feelings to guide your hand.” Oran returned a tight nod. Message received.
I regaled them again with everything I knew about O’Brien, his business dealings, his time in Remington, omitting, of course, anything pertaining to Bella and the one time I gave in and fucked her. I hated the prick, but killing him wouldn’t have served my needs. It was too easy. O’Brien was meant to be a cautionary tale for any would be bosses and underbosses not to fuck with my business. An example of what happens when you try and take over a territory run by a MacCabe. Whoever killed his ass did it for their own reasons, reasons that had jack shit to do with me.
I also hid the fact that Bella had come to me the same night O’Brien was killed, offering up her pussy on tap like she cared less than a fuck that the bastard was dead. I’d like to think it wouldn’t have made a difference, that what went down between us was a one-off, a fluke, a goddamn coincidence. Truthfully, it was all those things, yet it was also the reason why I’d lost Otelia, why she ran from me, why she hadn’t stuck around to hear my side of the story. It was also why my life was in jeopardy if we didn’t come up with an alternate theory of the crime.
“I feel like the answer is staring us right in the face, and we’re either too blind to see it or the prick who killed O’Brien was just that motherfucking good,” Ferdi bitched, sweeping a hand down his frustrated face.
“Maybe he got scared, tucked his dick, said fuck it, and shot himself,” Spoon joked.
“Not the time for your bullshit, Fionn,” Oran grumbled. “Get your head outta your ass. It’s bad enough that Darragh put us in this mess. Don’t need you making it worse.”
“No way, bro. This shit can’t get much worse.” Spoon snickered.