Page 39 of Southie
After telling Gerald everything that had happened, he was speechless. His eyes saddened, and his mouth repeatedly opened and closed. I guess he was trying to form the right words to say, but he couldn’t speak. There’d never be the right words anyone could say during this time.
My grandmother treated Gerald as if he was one of her grandchildren, so I understood his shock and grief. I was still coming to terms with what happened. My mind constantly warred with itself. Since her death, it became a cycle of the same two emotions, rage and grief. Rage would consume me and then, in the next breath, an overwhelming pressure in my chest with the urge to cry would wipe the rage away.
He shook his head, raking his hand down his face. “I’m so sorry, man. It doesn’t mean shit, but that’s all I got. Who do you think would do that to her, man? She was the sweetest person.”
That was the same question I’d been asking myself since receiving the call from Camilla.
Who’d want to hurt my grandmother?
She’d give the shirt off her back, give her last dime if anyone needed it. Other than someone coming after me, there wasn’t anyone who’d want my grandmother dead.
The answer was simple. There was no reason to refute it.
I was the one who’d brought death to her door.
I lowered my head. Disbelief still hung over me. This having anything to do with me being the Enforcer was not something I wanted to accept. Had I brought this life to my grandmother’s doorstep? Who would’ve had the balls to go after my family, especially my grandmother? I’d mistaken my position in the mob for invisibility, and it cost my grandmother her life.
In the past few months, I’d made a name for myself around New England. Now that this had happened, I’d have to make someone an example so everyone got the message not to fuck with my family. New England would see a different side of Liam Daugherty, and it would not be pretty.
“It has to be someone after me, Gerald. That’s the only thing that makes any sense. My grandmother was feisty, but everyone loved her in Southie. It wasn’t a secret she was my grandmother, either. Someone looking to get back at me or Paddy would go after her. Most definitely had to be someone not from Southie.”
“And you said Roland Jennings’ daughter found her?”
At the mention of Camilla, containing the smile that stretched across my face was impossible. Gerald tilted his head in reaction but said nothing.
“Yeah. Her name is Camilla. She and Nana had become friends. They met on the bus. This shit is so unreal, man.”
I moved to the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water.
“Goddamn,” Gerald whispered.
I turned and stared at Gerald’s widened eyes, then followed his line of sight.
“Fuck,” I mumbled.
My heart stopped beating in my chest at the vision of Camilla in one of my white dress shirts which landed mid-thigh on her beautiful long, bare, caramel-colored legs and feet. Her curls were wild and untamed, framing her gorgeous face perfectly. I pulled my lip in between my teeth, biting, preventing myself from groaning out loud.
Camilla’s yelp broke me out of my lustful trance. I pushed down the desire to fuck her on the stairs and forced a smile.
“Hey baby,” I said, walking over to her and giving her a peck on the lips.
She ran her hand over her hair. “I’m sorry, Liam. I didn’t know you had company.”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to my body. “It’s cool. You look damn good in my shirt. But, I’m looking forward to getting you out of it,” I whispered, kissing her on the top of her head.
Her skin tinted red when she grinned and covered her face with her hands, lying against my chest.
“Go get dressed so I can introduce you.”
She nodded and quickly headed back upstairs. That saying,I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leaveplayed in my mind as I gawked at her until those long, beautiful legs and the sliver of ass peeking from under my shirt disappeared.
I turned my attention back to Gerald. “What?” I asked, walking back into the kitchen. “What are you smiling at?”
“Don’t what me, motherfucka,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at me.
I laughed, but an explanation to describe my interaction with Camilla eluded me. It was natural, just like everything else concerning her and me.
“In all the years I’ve known you, Southie, you’ve never, and I mean never had a woman anywhere close to you that wasn’t a whore, let alone calling a woman ‘baby.’ And she’s a sistah. Spill it.”
