Page 27 of Malicious Wedding

Without another word, he walks to the door and steps into the hall.

Leaving me to reconsider all my life choices.

Imaginative. Carson Crowley.

Can I really go with him right now? Can I really follow him back to his family’s mansion? Once he gets me there, I have a feeling I’ll never come back out—not until I’m wearing his ring and calling himhubski.

Oh, god. I think I’ve gone absolutely insane.

But then my legs are moving, and we’re getting into his Lexus, and I don’t know how long my willpower’s going to last.

Chapter13

Carson

Ash disappears into Iain’s hospital room. I watch her go before turning away toward the waiting room. The doctors and nurses give me a wide berth as I walk through—most of them realize my family pays their salary, and the rest are afraid of my reputation.

I learned early on that my family needs to be two things at once: terrifying and eminently generous. It’s not enough to make Boston afraid of us—we need them to love us too. The combination of love and fear builds something profound, and it’s right in the middle of those emotions where my family’s power continues to grow.

It’s where I want to put Ash.

I make a call back in the waiting area. “Nolan. Where are we?”

My brother sounds tired. We’re all fucking tired. “Still looking for the bastards. Dad’s furious.”

“I’m not worried about Dad’s feelings right now. We have multiple dead Crowley members. We need answers.”

Nolan grunts. “You’re not worried because you’re not here. Shit rolls downhill, remember?”

“Throw your pity party later. What’s the latest?”

“Poles aren’t talking. We know it’s them and they haven’t even bothered to deny it, but they’re also not engaging with our guys at all.”

“The fuck are they thinking?” I pace back and forth across the waiting room. An older woman gives me a sharp look but I ignore her.

The Polish mob is one of the more powerful minor families in the city. They’re nowhere near our size, but they have a significant presence and some decent muscle. While they’re not a threat to the Crowley organization on any existential level, they can make our lives difficult if they decide that an all-out conflict is warranted.

Too bad I have no clue what the fuck they want. They’re led by a guy named Jan Minda, an ugly, violent little bastard with a temper to match. In years past, we’ve had good relations, sharing information where it benefits both organizations and generally giving each other a wide berth. We haven’t wanted any violence, and it wouldn’t be in their best interests to start anything with us.

But now, this sudden attack makes no sense.

Nolan says, “The only thing I keep coming back to is your boy. You know how Iain was.”

“Iain’s still alive so quit using the past tense,” I murmur, thinking hard. “What do you mean by that?”

“Iain got himself into trouble. The boy loved his drinking, his fighting, his pussy. I mean, he loves it still. Yeah, he was generous and people liked him, but whatever, that’s not enough. I always said he was trouble.”

I grunt in response. “You think he did something to provoke them.”

“He must’ve. Why else is it that the only dead are from his wretched little family?”

“Easy,” I say, distracted. I try to think back to the last few weeks, but I can’t recall Iain ever mentioning the Poles at all. “Jan is a smart man. He’s been running his family for years now. He knows what killing our people means. What could Iain have done to provoke something like that?”

“I don’t know,” Nolan admits. “But whatever it was, it was real fucking bad. What should we do?”

“Catch one of the Polish guys. Someone high up. If Jan won’t talk to me, then I’ll talk to one of his guys and find out what’s going on here.”

“We should start killing,” Nolan says, sounding unhappy. “Dad wants bodies.”

---