Page 5 of Villainous
“Thank you.”
I dial Fiona’s number, a distant cousin on my da’s side who used to work in the strip club with me.
She picks up on the fourth ring.
“Hello.” Her voice sounds sleepy. Around this time, she’ll be sleeping in, preparing for her next shift.
“It’s Maya.”
“Maya?” I hear the relief in her tone. “Are you okay? Where have you been? I wanted to go to the police about you being missing, but Cillian told me to stay out of your family affairs. He figured you were alive. Why haven’t you contacted me?”
Cillian is the don for one of the Five Points Irish mafia in Manhattan. My family broke ties with them and formed an alliance with the Italian mafia because my da thought it would bring in more money.
I’m not going to disclose to her what happened over the phone, and there is no way I can go to the police. Devious has his hands so deep into the justice system, they will literally turn me away at the mention of his name. Kelly watches me like a hawk as she checks out a customer.
“It’s a long story. I’m alive for now.”
“What the hell have you got yourself into?” Fiona pauses. “Seamus is looking for you.”
I shake my head and chew on my tongue.
“Does he know ab—”
“I don’t know,” I cut her off.
Fuck. This is bad. Terrible. He’s another reason I’m in hiding, and if he found me, I’ll be as good as dead. Seamus is an airhead who’s egotistical and a little too trigger-happy for my liking. But there are other things I need to worry about, like getting to my ma.
“Have you spoken to my mother and sent her the money?” I ask.
She sighs into the phone. “Of course. I make sure five grand is deposited into her account every month. Where are you so I can pick you up?”
I glance outside, and a few of Villainous’s soldiers are searching the crowd, pulling hoods off people’s heads.
“I have to go.” I press the End button and hand it to the sales associate. I tell her thanks and slide my hood over my head, keeping my eyes glued to the cement as I roam out of the store. I rush into the alley, passing a few homeless people. Freezing rain plops on my forehead. Great. Now I’m going to be soaked as shit. Once I make it to the end of the alley, I’m back in a crowd of people. I need to pick someone’s pockets in order to pay for food for the time being.
I search the crowd, and my eyes land on a woman with a small child. No, she has a family to feed. Then I study a beefy guy with tattoos. He probably won’t fall for my shit, and from the look of his muscles, he’ll beat me up in a matter of seconds.
I glance at an uber-rich dude, bulky like Dwayne Johnson, getting out of an expensive Benz with his phone glued to his face. I stroll past him, elbowing his stomach.
“My bad,” I say. “Are you okay? I didn’t see you.” I bat my eyes, clutching his muscular forearm, then sliding the other hand into his back pocket, snatching the money clip and shoving it in the pocket of my hoodie.
He smiles, eyeing me as if I’m candy. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes.”
I feel bad for stealing, but how else am I going to get money until I go back to working as a stripper?
“How would you like to go to dinner with me?”
If I were living another life and away from the mob, then I would. He looks safe and secure and not fucked up in the head. One thing I’m good at is reading people.
I shake my head as I walk backward. “I’m too corrupt for you.” I wink. “Maybe next time.”
Then I face the crowd, and a steak house comes into view. I make my way inside and to a table in the corner at the end. I’ll wait here until I figure out my next move.
Villainous
Three things I hate: thieves, liars, and traitors. My soldier, Baron, cost me three million dollars. I caught him red-handed in the bunker, raping one of the merchandise. I need the sex slaves to be in top shape and not have bruises for them to be of value. My first cousin on my father’s side of the famiglia and my capo, Manos, warned me about this piece of shit a few weeks back, but I needed to set Baron up so I could have hard proof.
He’s tied down to a wooden board tilted slightly off the concrete floor, and his body shakes from the warm air in the basement. My hand grips the gray jug as I pour water onto the thin towel that covers his plump face.
