Page 15 of Ruthless Beast

I don't know what has me more enraged. The fact that I just lost a key person in my organization or that some bastard out there thinks he can meddle in my affairs. Either way, I’m ready to rip someone’s head off and shove it down the gaping, bloodied hole left behind.

I have to call a meeting. Someone has to know something. I refuse to believe that David’s murder was anything but a strategic move. I did just take over as head of the most powerful business in the state. I don't believe in coincidence.

Emily. Her captivating face suddenly flashes in my mind’s eye. What must she be going through right now? First, she loses her parents, and now her brother is dead. Why is this bothering me so much?

I did consider David an honorable man—a rarity amongst mobsters—so it isn’t too big of a stretch to feel responsible for his beloved sister. I have to check on her. David would have done the same for me, I imagine.

I have to be cautious, though. I don't know how much Emily knows about the work her brother did. He seemed to me to be a private sort. I don’t want to sully Emily’s opinion of her brother now that he’s dead.

* * *

It’s the day of the funeral. The church pews are full, so I sit at the back, flanked by my bodyguards. Everyone is on edge at the moment, so my appointed muscle accompanies me wherever I go.

I don't want to be conspicuous today. David’s killer may be here, and me making a big scene about losing him may attract unwanted attention.

I look ahead at a figure in the front pew. Emily looks every bit the part of a grieving woman. She’s wearing her long, black hair down, so it covers her face when she looks down at the hands. She sits very still. I imagine that her mind is racing. Mine would be too if my brother, and sole protector, was suddenly ripped from my side.

Emily is so beautiful that I find it almost impossible to look away. It’s obvious that she’s spent a fair amount of time crying. Even so, her beauty is spellbinding. It’s time for the eulogy, so she gets up and moves toward the pulpit. A reverant hush falls over the mourners. She takes a few moments to compose herself before she speaks.

“Thank you all for coming today to celebrate David’s life,” she says in a shaky voice. “I don’t really know where to start. My brother was such an amazing presence in the lives of those he cared for that it’s almost impossible to express the extent of our loss.”

Emily looks up at the ceiling for a few moments, as if she’s drawing strength from an invisible source. Her big, blue eyes glisten when she looks out over the mourners. I feel sorry for the beauty. Clearly she’s struggling to talk.

“Uhm…David was…he was…”

Oh, for fuck’s sake! Why doesn’t someone else step up and help this poor wounded soul? I would if I could.

A young woman stands up and starts to move toward Emily, but David’s sister isn’t ready to give up just yet. Emily smiles and gestures for the other woman to sit down again.

“Sorry,” Emily says and smiles. “The past week has been incredibly difficult. This must seem a little out of character for those of you who know me. I am after all the family nutter.”

A wave of muted amusement moves through the church.

“Anyway. I could wax lyrical about my big brother, but that will keep us here indefinitely.”

Emily talks for the following twenty minutes about the love she and her brother shared and she even throws in a few anecdotal tales from their childhood. I marvel at her inner strength and determination to make this day about David.

After the body is taken to its final resting place, the mourners gather in a hall adjacent to the church where they mill about and share war stories. I want to talk to Emily alone, so I wait for an opportunity. It comes when I see her leave the room and wander into the garden.

Emily is standing under a large Norfolk Island Pine tree. She looks so small and frail suddenly. She jerks when I speak.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” I apologize.

“Hi, yeah, I didn’t see you there,” she says.

“I’m Lucas. We haven’t met. David and I used to play squash together.”

“Hi, Lucas.”

“I’m truly sorry for your loss,” I offer.

“Thank you, Lucas. And thank you for coming.”

“Of course. I was very fond of your brother. I’m so sorry, Emily.”

I didn’t mean for my words to sound so personal. The last thing I wanted to do here was to interject myself into Emily’s life. She doesn’t need to know the full extent of my relationship with her dead brother. Worst of all, I’d hate for her to find out that his and my association was possibly the cause of his untimely death.

“What do you do, Lucas?”

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