Page 95 of Mob Saint

Maybe it would have been fine, but they called themselves Cosa Nostra. “Our thing” is only for Sicilian Mafia, so the Mancinellis took offense. They systematically got Stiglionos put away until they could move in without much fuss. I played a part in that. Darren wanted to weaken the Stiglionos, so he helped the Mancinellis.

He wanted to take over a contraband cigarette ring, and he had some men he wanted gone. He opened the door for the Mancinellis, thinking they’d do the dirty work and take the fall for it. He made me plant evidence that condemned half a dozen Mancinellis. They’d committed murder, then arson, and Darren was supposed to say thank you to Salvatore Mancinelli. Instead, he made sure I slipped into the crime scene at night and moved things around to prove it wasn’t a gas leak. He gave me DNA evidence to leave at the scene that tied the fire to the New York Cosa Nostra.

Have the Mancinellis been getting revenge all these years? Would they have that kind of patience? For sure. But I thought the difference between them, and the Stiglionos and Darren was they don’t target women. I don’t know much about them beyond their reputations. I didn’t want to know more. I wanted in and out. It was bad enough Darren made me do shit like that.

I refused once, and he drained my bank accounts. He left me with one penny in my checking and one in my savings. It was a snub worse than if there’d been nothing left. Gareth convinced him to give the money back. He warned his dad if I had no money to trace, and no means to pay my bills, there was nothing stopping me from taking money under the table from someone else. That money could have come from me selling secrets.

As though he had ESP, he came knocking again. I thought about refusing a second time. It was when I found out I was pregnant, and Aaron wanted me guarded better. Aaron knew what Darren forced me to do, and he was scared someone would think a pregnant woman was the perfect weak target. I was—for Darren.

He had men follow me out of the station house one night. I was working a desk job since going on calls was too dangerous. I ended my shift while Aaron was fighting a fire and there was next to no one at the station house. I walked out to my car and noticed three men in the shadows. I had my mace and my keys in my hands. I was walking across a long parking lot, and I sensed the men getting closer.

They tried to encircle me a few feet from my car, but I set off my car alarm. I ran in the opposite direction—fucking painful since my ligaments were tight around my belly—and got back into the station house. One of Aaron’s friends found me panting and doubled-over. He guessed men were out there, but he was unaffiliated. I tried to make him stay inside, but he went to check. No one was out there, but he refused to let me leave until Aaron got back and could take me home.

All of this whizzes through my mind at warp speed as the guy takes yet another step forward. I scream as loud as I can. I keep screaming as the man reaches for me. There’s nothing I can do once he has his hand around my throat. Definitely not police procedure. Definitely nothing like when Seamus holds me in place. When he puts his other hand on my jaw, I still. I don’t want my neck snapped.

“Good, little girl.”

How the fuck does he know about that? Seamus has never called me that where anyone could hear him. He’s never been to my place before.

The town car today.

It must have been bugged. Or did the driver have the intercom on? Someone betrayed Seamus and the O’Rourkes, and now they’ve got me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Seamus

Motherfucking son of a goddamn bitch. What the fuck just happened to me?

I roll over, trying to figure out where I am and remember what just happened. I turn my head to the left and find my brother lying in a puddle of his own blood and immediately my mind goes to the worst possibility.

My gaze sweeps around the room because I need to find my father. But when it lands on Da, he’s lying there with his eyes closed, too. I try my best to push up onto my side to sit up eventually, but I groan instead.

“Seamus?”

“Yeah, Da. What happened?”

“I think we were ambushed.” My dad’s ironic sense of humor is not what I want right now. I want to know what the hell happened and where Tiera is. What if she’s… No.

“Tiera?... Tiera?... Tiera!... Cailín!... Tiera!”

Over and over, I scream, but there's no response. I look to my brother yet again, but he hasn’t stirred despite all the noise I make.

“Da, we have to get to Cormac.”

I came round face up. I do my best to roll onto my side, then onto my stomach. I manage to push myself up to a crawling position and make my way to him. I’m unsteady on my hands and knees as I reach out and shake his shoulder.

“Cor, Cor. I need you to wake up. Cor, where's Tiera?”

My brother doesn’t respond, not even a groan. I check his pulse. It’s still there, steady as it always is, but he won’t wake. I look over his body to see where he’s bleeding. The wound’s not visible, but he’s breathing heavily now that I’ve tried to wake him. There’s blood coming from the back of Cormac's shoulder, and there is a nasty circle through his clothes. I try to pull up his shirt, but I can’t reach without my own wounded shoulder screaming with pain because I can’t balance.

My dad has a nasty gash on his forehead, but that’s all I can see. He’s moving faster than I am. He comes to squat next to me and rips open the back of Cormac’s shirt. When he does, we see what we expected. The bullet is still in there. We’re going to need our family doc to pull it out. If I were in better condition and had the right supplies, I would do it too, but this isn't the time or the place to play doctor.

“Da, we need Meridith.”

“I know.”

I assess the deep gash on my dad's head. That seems to be the only thing wrong with him, but I need to make sure.

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