Page 6 of The Heir

Chapter Three

Marchella

It was so damn hot outside, and the stale air felt twice as muggy in my work scrubs. The navy-blue colors the local nursing home chose for us aides to wear didn’t flatter anyone, but I was due there in two hours. So, when Izzy demanded all of us accompany her and my father to see Daisy and Montana off, I slid them on and threw my hair into a ponytail.

I didn’t realize that Oak, and Crystal would be there, too. Not until we arrived and the honored couple wasn’t even there.

“Come on in,” Trista waved, opening the door to Daisy’s house. “They had to run and fetch ‘em all; their car broke down or something.”

I gave my aunt Trista a little squeeze of a side hug and she smeared a kiss across my hairline, capturing the opposite side of my head in her hand and pinning me there for a moment.

“You remind me of me,” she whispered when she pulled away, her big eyes lighting up with approval and pride. “... so beautiful and professional in your uniform.”

Her hands traveled my shoulders, smoothing my scrub top and affectionately straightening everything. I smiled, knowing my aunt had been in nursing school when the mob snatched her all those years ago. I’d seen her badge-like clinical I.D. and pictures of her and her friends posing outside of their clinicalassignments together. Once she was freed, she tried to go back. She graduated, but her ongoing battle with PTSD made her nursing career a struggle, and she ultimately gave up her license after only a few years of holding it.

She steered me to the table and promptly fetched a few glasses, filling them with ice cubes and sliding sodas across the table at me and Izzy. My brother, Donnie, never even made it to the house before he disappeared into a crowd of Disciples. Mackie, our oldest brother, hadn't arrived yet.

“I simply can’t wait to see Crystal. Do you know, she was my first friend here, when I married Makaveli?” Izzy shared, while wrestling the lid off a pre-packaged shot of rum. She poured it into her soda, stirred it with an obnoxiously long, manicured nail and began to sip.

She’d been down state for nearly eighteen years, but she was still notably northern. Her Chicago-Italian accent could be detected when she was excitable, and it came with a crisp delivery when she was angry.

“I was never really close with her,” Aunt Trista admitted. “Prior to my being taken, I didn’t associate with my father or the Steel Disciples. My mother kept me away from all of that, lot of good it did.”

She snorted and laughed in that odd way that was entirely hers. Even when it wasn’t funny, her eyes lit up and her nose twitched, drawing attention to the ring she kept in it. She was beautiful, but her experience had left her with a hard edge to her features. Her eyes were sharp and dangerous, her mouth deadly at times.

I admired them both, even if Izzy was constantly showing her tits off. It wasn’t that I was offended by tits, or any kind of prude,I just got tired of seeing the tattoo that labeled her my father’s property.

She was more than that. She was our savior. Who knows how we kids would have turned out after her brother’s mob killed our mother, if my father hadn’t married her to raise his children.

We’d have probably all come out as feral as Mackie and twice as cold.

She was a mafia princess, a sociopath at best, but she loved us. It was fucked, but… it was our lives.

“Are they here yet?” a voice boomed from down the hall, causing Izzy to crane her neck.

“Jesus Christ, Easy. You’re not at the bar, you know?” She flung her long, dark hair over her shoulder and huffed.

The front door flew open, and Izzy’s head whipped back in that direction as Mayhem shouted, “Hey, they’re coming from down the block!”

All hell broke loose outside as the Steel Disciples, and their followers began to shout and celebrate. Steps thundered down the hall and Easy shot out around the corner, shoved Izzy’s seat toward the table with her still in it and followed his son outside.

“Get the fuck out of the way,” he advised whoever was on the porch. “Move! Where the fuck is my nephew?”

Trista rose from her seat and gravitated toward the door, so Izzy and I followed. Disciples, prospects, followers, and their women all lined the driveway. Monty pulled the simple, white van off the road and moved at a snail’s pace down the length of them.

Easy wasn’t waiting, he stormed down the drive, shoving prospects out of his way. Poor Daisy must have seen himcoming, she popped the door open on the back and once it slid open, she jumped out.

Easy didn’t slow his pace, he reached for the headrest of the passenger seat and propelled himself inside. He tackled whoever was sitting behind the driver in a massive bear hug. I assumed it was his nephew, but all I could see was the Disciple’s patch on the back of Easy’s kutte.

The engine was shut off, and Monty hopped out. After a few moments, I saw movement in the back and a redhead poked out of the van. A woman that seemed to be my age, carefully climbed out and straightened her clothes. She had innocent eyes and a ton of curves. All the prospects were eyeing her, until Izzy shot forward and grabbed her into a hug.

“Oh, my God. You must be Karlotti? I heard Oak and Crystal had a daughter. Look at you!” she exclaimed, while vigorously rubbing the woman’s back and shoulders.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Karlotti timidly answered.

A tiny squeal of laughter slipped from Izzy and the hand not wound around the girl shot to her own plump, painted lips like she meant to catch the sound. “You’re fucking adorable, okay! I love you.” She squeezed her again.

Easy hadn’t come out of the van yet. When he did, he sniffed and tore in a ragged breath, jerking his nephew toward him in a violent side hug. He didn’t really look like Easy, he had shoulder-length brown hair, and the most intense green eyes I’d ever seen in my life. When they landed on me, it felt like he could see every secret in my soul. My cheeks warmed, and his attention anchored on me, making them grow brighter with every passing second.

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