My Mafia Boss: Sweat Read online

  Tarasov shrugged. “Good money.”

  “Be that as it may. That’s all I’m willing to offer.”

  Tarasov glanced down at the table for several moments, then looked back up at me. Finally, he nodded. He extended a hand over the table. A gentleman’s agreement. I wanted to rip it off his wrist, but with a humorless smile, I leaned forward and shook.

  Neither of us indulged in a senseless power-grip. This distasteful business completed, I abruptly stood and walked out of the warehouse, striding quickly toward my car. Niall caught up with me and clapped me once on the back.

  “You’ve done well, Marcus,” he said. “Securing an alliance with the Russians, albeit an uneasy one at this stage of the game, is a big step forward for the Outfit.”

  I turned toward Niall and looked at him, for the first time in my life, feeling a sense of disappointment and even distaste at his smile. “Until the bastards double-cross us,” I said.

  “We’re better than them, Marcus,” he disagreed. “They wouldn’t dare.”

  “Wouldn’t they?” I asked with a lifted eyebrow. “They’ve already dared much more than I ever would’ve expected of them. I still don’t trust them, any of them. We need to watch our backs.”

  “And we will,” Niall said casually. “Tarasov will give me the particulars about the deliveries, and I’ll pass them onto you.”

  I said nothing, though I wanted to confront him here and now. Why did he want to join the Outfit with the Russians? Was this just the beginning? Was he thinking about joining with any others? The Armenians, the Ukrainians, the Italians? What game was he playing, and why?

  Up until recently, he’d been content to allow me to run the Outfit, no questions asked. And now he was brokering alliances? Was he trying to push me out? I needed to find out, but not right now. Now, I had to play the cards I’d been dealt. For Allie’s safety.

  He turned, gestured toward his own bodyguards, and walked back to his car. As I climbed behind my steering wheel, my thoughts clouded with hatred and disgust. I hated this. All of this.

  Since when did the Outfit need an alliance or a big step forward as Niall claimed? Things had been just fine for the past few years. We’d been doing all right, and I saw no change in the foreseeable future. The Philly Outfit did just fine reaping the benefits of people’s vices, whether it be gambling, fraud, extortion, or drugs.

  Those vices would always be around, regardless of culture or socioeconomic conditions. I didn’t see any real benefit of aligning with anyone other than the greater influx of money, but since when had anybody in the Outfit started complaining about their cut of profits?

  Maybe it was the other way around. Maybe it was the Russians who felt increased pressure and needed us. But if that was so, why hadn’t Niall felt that the Russians would be doing us a favor rather than the other way around?

  I pulled the car away from the warehouse and didn’t look back once I headed out of the harbor area. This afternoon, I had to lay my best friend to rest. The finality of it hit me once more, and I sighed, staring out the windshield as the buildings passed me by.

  I had lost men before, no doubt, and I had felt bad. I’d always arranged care for any man’s family if they were killed—the widows, the orphans, the elderly parents. Donny’s parents were long dead, like mine. He had no siblings, no one to mourn him, except me and perhaps a few other members of the Outfit.

  “Mark my words, Donnie, they’ll pay. I swear they will.”

  Several hours later, wearing a black suit, Allie standing beside me in a modest black dress, we stood along with others of the Philly Outfit attending a graveside service for Donnie Callaghan. The priest said his piece, recited a couple of Bible verses, a Psalm or two, as the members of the Outfit’s leadership and a few of the bodyguards gathered around, all wearing dark suits and somber expressions. For my part, I pretty much tuned out all of it, my thoughts filled with memories.

  Donnie hadn’t merely been a member of the Outfit or my bodyguard. I had known him for such a long time that I thought of him more as a brother. The brother I’d never had. Losing him had hit me hard, much harder than I let on to anybody, even Allie. Even more so than with Niall, I trusted Donnie. We had exchanged confidences over the years, knowing that none of those confidences would reach anyone else’s ears.

  Since our teens, we had been best friends, and though our paths took different routes in the Outfit, our loyalty to one another never faltered. I felt as if I had let him down. I hadn’t protected him from Tarasov’s wrath. I looked up and scanned the small crowd gathered around the hole in the ground, seeking Ronan. I would make sure he kept up his guard.

  Did the Russians know it had been Donnie and Ronan with me that night? If so, how? Is that why they’d targeted Donnie? It seemed unlikely, as the only Russian players in the event were dead, leaving only Ronan and me remaining as living witnesses. I frowned when I didn’t find Ronan in the gathering of mourners but wasn’t overly annoyed by that. Ronan kept to himself. Still, even though it might not be necessary, I would give him a warning to be especially alert.

  Donnie would have been wary, no doubt. He was no fool. He had known the possible repercussions of what we’d done, but he had volunteered to join me in my rescue of Allie, no hesitation, no fear. So too had Ronan. I sighed, shaking my head with regret and more than a little sorrow.

  Allie tried to be comforting, but not in a cloying way. Just enough to let me know that she was available if I wanted to talk. I didn’t. Since I’d heard of Donnie’s death, my heart had been filled with anger and a simmering rage that I fought to control. I didn’t need to share that with her.

  This grief was personal, and I stoked it privately, not willing to share it with anyone. One day soon, I would have my revenge. Donnie deserved better, and though I couldn’t undo what had been done, I could avenge him. And avenge him I would, one way or another.

  Even though Allie was now part of my world, I saw no reason in dragging her even deeper, scaring her with my thirst for vengeance. I knew she was scared. I’d seen it in her eyes when I told her about Donnie. I knew the moment that she thought about not only herself and her own safety, but her father’s. Selena’s.

  While I had promised that I would protect her, that I would die before I let anything bad happen to her, I knew that I couldn’t protect her from everything or everybody. I couldn’t keep her locked up in my penthouse twenty-four hours a day. That was no life.

  On occasion, I even wished that I hadn’t dragged her into this ugly world of mine, but at the same time, I was loath to set her free. One, she didn’t seem to want that freedom, and for two, I acknowledged the simple truth. I had fallen in love with her. I believed that she felt much the same for me, but the words had not yet been spoken.

  Now, standing over Donnie’s grave with Allie at my side, watching the casket slowly lowered into the ground, I made a promise to myself. I promised that alliance or no alliance with the Russians, I wouldn’t rest until that bastard Tarasov paid.

  Payback was a bitch.

  Five

  Allie

  Over the next week or so, I slowly adapted to my new—more permanent than temporary—way of life. Or tried, anyway. While I very much appreciated the protection that Marcus offered my dad, not to mention the new apartment, rent-free, I still had niggling doubts.

  I didn’t want Marcus’s charity, and I knew my dad certainly didn’t. He was already protesting and demanding to pay at least the same amount of rent that he had been paying in his old place. My dad was a proud man, and I thought Marcus understood that, so he had agreed. Other than that, my dad very much liked his new apartment, and not only the amenities offered, but the surrounding area.

  When he felt up to it, we even went out and visited some of the parks and the arboretum not far from his place. We had coffee once at a little mom-and-pop coffee shop, sitting in the corner window, enjoying the warm morning sun coming through it. Once or twice, I actually saw our “watchers” as I’d come to
call them. Marcus hadn’t been joking when he said he’d be keeping an eye on us. They weren’t obtrusive and didn’t crowd us, but when I felt that tingling sensation that I was being watched running down my spine, I could pretty much well figure that I was.

  Sometimes, I wasn’t sure if it was Marcus’s men or maybe someone from Tarasov’s group, but after I got used to it, I realized that I couldn’t live every day of my life looking back over my shoulder, living in a state of near paranoia. Besides, he assured me that Tarasov had gotten the warning loud and clear that my family, friends, and I were off-limits.

  He also told me that he and the Russians had come to some sort of truce, and I breathed a little easier. At the same time, I knew that Marcus wasn’t exactly happy with the agreement. He didn’t tell me details, wanting to keep me out of that part of his life as much as he could, but I sensed by his often introspective silences and sharp words with Niall that he wasn’t exactly a happy camper.

  For the time being, Marcus wanted me and Selena to lay low, which wasn’t difficult for Selena because she didn’t have to work to support herself. Actually, I didn’t either, not anymore, but I was loathed to sit back and let everyone else do for me.

  I needed to work. I wanted to work, but according to Marcus, I couldn’t do that just yet, either. We’d had a couple of disagreements about that, but I finally acquiesced—for the time being—because I knew he was only concerned for my safety.

  He did suggest a compromise. He had all the computer equipment that he had set up in the office space at the penthouse for me transferred to a new, more secure business office for the time being. I could get back to work soon, he promised. Selena, of course, was ecstatic, but once again, I felt like I was accepting charity from Marcus. Almost like it was a guilt gift, as if he were, in his own way, trying to make up for what I had been through, what he had put me through just for knowing him.

  It was frustrating because I didn’t expect nor want that from him. I had no doubt that he’d kept his promise about not lying to me, and he obviously felt protective, but deep down, I wanted more. I knew how I felt about him, but how exactly, and deep down, did he feel about me?

  It wasn’t that I was yearning for promises of commitment from him, but I did worry that in three months, six, or anywhere in between, he might grow tired of me, his responsibility to me, and decide it was time for both of us to move on. Pessimistic as that was, I wasn’t stupid. I had to maintain as much of my own identity as possible, and that included a dedicated work ethic.

  He’d been gone most of yesterday and late into last night. He’d fallen asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, then left first thing this morning, just saying he had a meeting with some businessmen downtown. Not exactly cryptic, but not detailed either. By businessmen, did he mean the Outfit? Or did he mean actual businessmen?

  I knew that Marcus traveled in a number of circles, so the latter was a greater possibility, but for the time being, I had the penthouse to myself. I was bored, constantly pacing from one end to the other, occasionally pausing to gaze out the windows at the city bustling below.

  The sharp interruption of the buzzer announcing a visitor from downstairs jolted me out of my thoughts. Heart pounding and obviously too high-strung for my own good, I stepped to the panel by the front door and pressed the button. José told me that I had a visitor. Selena. I smiled as I told José to send her up. But then Selena got on the intercom and told me to meet her downstairs in the lobby.

  I frowned but told her to give me a few minutes. What was this about? My amusement quickly transformed into worry as I headed to the bedroom that Marcus and I now shared, quickly pulled on a jacket, and grabbed my purse from one of the kitchen table chairs as I headed out the door, pocketing my key.

  In a matter of moments, I stepped out of the elevator and into the marble lobby of the building as Selena rose from one of the overstuffed chairs clustered around a circular planter filled with philodendrons and other green plants that I recognized but couldn’t identify.

  I smiled as we quickly hugged. I hadn’t seen her for several days and felt bad about that. I missed being with her nearly every day, sharing confidences, working side-by-side. I even missed watching her browsing online.

  “I’m so glad to see you, Selena,” I began, smiling broadly. “Why did you have me come down here? Let’s go up and have some coffee.” She shook her head, and for the first time, I noticed her rather somber expression. I knew something was wrong. “Are your parents okay? Did you guys get into an argument?”

  “No,” she said, attempting a smile. “Everyone’s okay. I just didn’t want to go up to your place.”

  I glanced around to make sure no one listened to our conversation. “Is it Marcus?” I whispered. “He’s not home if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “No, it’s not that,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d just rather…let’s walk down to that small bakery on the next block and get a bear claw and a cup of coffee. I’m dying for a pastry.”

  “I don’t see why not,” I said, glancing around the lobby. I saw no one except for the doorman, who was well out of earshot. José was at the front desk, and a security guard emerged from the hallway that led to some office spaces. My imagination was running away with me. I didn’t like it. I’d never been the jittery sort, nor so high-strung.

  Hooking arms, we left the building and strolled outside. It was warmer than I expected, rather muggy, and the streets were busy with passersby, traffic moderate but not obnoxious. “Good plan,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “Now that you mention it, I’d love a Danish myself.” She nodded but didn’t say anything, her gaze sweeping the streets much like mine usually did now. “Something wrong?”

  She gave one sharp nod. “You could say that, but we’ll talk when we get into the bakery.” She leaned closer to me, her voice softening even more. “I didn’t want to say anything in your apartment…penthouse I mean, or even the lobby, because you never know who’s listening.”

  “What?” I asked, frowning. What did she mean? I sighed, thinking that Selena might be growing as paranoid as I had been over the past couple of weeks. So far, all I knew was that she and her family were safe and well, and she didn’t act like she was upset with me, either. I knew that my absence at the office would leave her idle, but usually, she didn’t care. Did she now? Is that what she wanted to talk with me about? Our business? Our partnership? Did she want to strike out on her own now that things were…different?

  She said nothing more until we had entered the bakery, ordered pastries and coffees, and found a quiet corner where we could watch the street, passersby, and traffic. It was a quaint little place, but it was cozy and I liked it. I waited patiently while Selena finished half of her bear claw while I simply nibbled on my Danish, both of us sipping coffee now and then. Finally, she placed the bear claw on her paper plate, wiped her fingers on her napkin, glanced once more outside, and turned to me.

  “Allie,” she said softly, her eyes darting toward the counter, then to the only other customers in the bakery at the other side of the small building. “I have something to tell you.”

  I frowned and found that I couldn’t help but glance around myself, the hair on the back of my neck standing up on end. “What’s happened?”

  “I’ve been approached by an ATF agent.”

  What? I felt a flutter in my chest as my mind raced. I needed clarification.

  “The ATF?” I stammered, stunned. “Do you mean the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives? That ATF?”

  I didn’t know much about the ATF, but I did know they investigated illegal use and trafficking of alcohol and tobacco. I was sure the Philly Outfit, like old-school mobs during the depression, still had their hand in that, but why would the federal agency get in touch with Selena?

  “Yes. They investigate criminal organizations, acts of terrorism, firearms trafficking, arson and explosives—”

  “Yes, I know, but why did they want to s
peak with you?”

  She blew out a long, slow breath, leaning forward. “A woman named Felicia Warner called me at the office last evening, just as I was getting ready to leave. She made an appointment and came to the office earlier this morning to speak with me.”

  “Our new office?”

  Selena nodded. “Yes, the new space.”

  “What did she want?” I wrapped my hand around my coffee to still my trembling fingers.

  She glanced once more over her shoulder, wary about anyone within earshot. “All she told me was that the agency has had the Outfit and the Russian Mayifa under close surveillance.”

  Mayifa. I knew that word now. It was the Russian word for Mafia. Actually, the Russian mafia was also known as Bratva, but over here, I guessed the terms were used interchangeably.

  “What did she want with you?”

  “Nothing, actually,” Selena said, practically whispering. “She wants to talk to you.”

  “Me?” My appetite was gone, and the sugary pastry was now settling uncomfortably in my stomach.

  Selena nodded. “She reached out to me so that I could relay a request to you. She wants to meet with you.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Allie, what’s going on? I’m fucking scared.”

  I wasn’t feeling too comfortable myself.

  “We’re in over our heads,” she hissed. “First, you get kidnapped by the Russians, and then rescued by your mob boss lover, which was then followed by a bloody shoot out. Now, it’s like you’re a pawn trapped in a tug-of-war between two mobster bosses.” She shook her head. “You could have been fucking killed!”

  Selena hadn’t said much about my kidnapping and rescue, which I appreciated, but I knew now how deeply it had frightened her. I should have known. I should have tried to talk to her about it, to talk it out, so we both knew what the other was feeling. I tried to calm Selena even though my heart now trip-hammered with alarm.