CROW (Boston Underworld Book 1) (10 page)

“Hmm…” He rubs his fingers over his lips. To him, this whole thing is probably quite ironic. Out of the frying pan and into the fire as they say.

“Ye won’t have to worry about him anymore, Mack.” His tone becomes serious. “Ye’re under my protection now.”

Hm, imagine that? He does have heartstrings to pull after all.

“Thanks,” I tell him. “But I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself.”

“Remember what I told you about playing by my rules?” he asks.

I bite my lip to stifle my bratty smile. “Of course. Whatever you say, Lachlan.”

“Good girl,” he says. “Now get your ass in the car. I’m taking you to supper.”

***

After hustling my ass off to finish getting ready, I walk outside to find the last thing I ever expected in the run down parking lot. A freaking Maserati.

A blue GranTurismo Sport, to be precise. I’m practically salivating at the mouth as I walk towards it with fingers poised to touch. At the last second, I snatch my hand back and I think I hear Lachlan laugh.

“Fancy that, do ye?”

“Va va voom,” I say in answer. “Any chance you’ll let me drive?”

He spins the keys around his fingers. “Not even if I was dying.”

Pfft.

He opens my door and I slide into the seat like butter. Mmm… it still has that new car smell, along with a hint of cedarwood and limes.

Lachlan gets in beside me and glances my way as he fires up the beast. I swear I almost have an orgasm just from the vibration and sounds alone. Jesus, this has definitely upped his game.

“Why don’t we skip dinner and you can just drive me around in this for the next couple of hours,” I suggest.

He whips out of the parking space and onto the street. “I have to say Mack, ye really know how to have the craic, don’t you?”

“Say what now?”

“You like the fun stuff,” he clarifies. “Fast cars and fighting…”

His words drift off abruptly, but it isn’t too hard to guess what he’s thinking about.

For a minute, as I watch him navigate the streets of Boston with smooth precision, I almost question it too. There’s just something sexy about a man who knows how to handle such a beautiful car that makes you want him. Again, I have to shake myself out of it.

Jesus, I need to get a grip. And remember what I’m doing this for. I cannot catch feelings for this asshole. I turn my attention out the window and remain quiet while he drives. When he told me he was taking me to dinner, I half expected some pub grub. But instead, we end up at an upscale restaurant in the Back Bay. Not just any restaurant, but a very well known- and Russian owned- restaurant.

I give him a sideways glance as I try to understand his motives for bringing me here. This isn’t coincidence, it’s strategy. He wants the Russians to see him here with me. But why?

I don’t have long to mull it over. He gets out of the car and I follow suit. The hostess doesn’t ask for Lachlan’s name, she knows him on sight. Two minutes later, we’re sitting in one of the best seats in the house with a personal welcome from the chef.

I know I should be using this opportunity to get a good look at some of his business associates, but I feel uncomfortable here. I’m not one to frequent restaurants like this. These were the types of places I used to pass by as a kid, staring in through the glass windows as the upper class ate their nice meals.
I felt so much resentment knowing that Talia and I would either be begging or stealing for our dinner.

It hardened me. These life experiences of mine took away any fragility I may have had left. I don’t like to associate myself with these people. Even now, I still live on the fringes of society.
I have a nice warm bed and food in my belly, but the resentment is still there, and I’m not sure why.

Maybe because I don’t have a place in this world. Or a family. Or anyone who cares if I go missing. Only Scarlett. And someday, she’ll probably disappear too. And then it will be just me, and I can’t even imagine how dark my world will be then.

I’m selfish for feeling this way. For letting this fear control me. But
I can’t think about that now. So I glance at the menu and pretend that I come to places like this all the time. I order Chilean Sea Bass and Lachlan orders a steak and a glass of Patron on ice for me… just the way I like it. Under any other circumstances I’d be surprised that he picked up on such a detail, but this is a man who’s constantly watching his surroundings.

When I lick the salt off the rim and take a sip, I belatedly realize the more likely reason he remembered it. His eyes are intense as he watches my little performance of squeezing the lime and sucking the juice off my thumb.

“Nothing for you?” I ask sweetly.

“Not yet.” He leans forward on his elbows. “We’ll have a drink at the club.”

We. He said we. He’s taking me to dinner, and now he’s talking about drinks? Red flags are popping up everywhere here. He might be attracted to me, but I know he doesn’t like me. There’s a big difference, and it’s written all over his face. He’s suspicious as hell and I highly suspect he kind of wishes I’d just disappear. So what’s with all the other stuff? I can’t figure it out.

“I thought you real Paddy’s only drank the black stuff,” I tease.

He scowls at me and sits back in his chair without a response. Sheesh. Case and point.

The waiter brings our food and we eat in silence. It’s all so very… date like. If I were on a date with a serial killer who was sizing me up like his prey, but whatever. Lucky for me, Lachlan and I are both in the business of keeping secrets, so there’s no need to fill the silence. In fact, I like that he’s okay with it. Sometimes just glaring at each other across the table is enough.

By the time we’re through with our meals, it’s time for me to go to work. Lachlan pays and escorts me back out to the car. He even opens my door for me, which really freaks me out. Surely he’s not trying to woo me. Right?

I don’t have to wonder about it for long. As we drive, I discover the real reason he took me out.

“A couple things I need to go over, Mack.”

“I’m all ears.” I cross my legs and give him my full attention.

“I’m still not convinced this club is the right place for a girl like you.”

“Whatever the fuck that means,” I retort.

He shoots me a glare and then continues on. “I’ve done my homework on you.”

I turn my attention back to the city. “I’m not surprised.”

“Have ye got a problem with the Russians?” he asks.

My chest constricts, but I try to maintain my cool. There’s no way he could know my plan. No way in hell. But why else would he be asking?

“No problem,” I say.

“Word is your oul’ man lost a fight.”

“He didn’t fuckin’ lose a fight,” I snarl. “He was jumped in a dark alley…”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about,” Lachlan says. “Ye’re gonna have to keep that shite under wraps if ye want to work for me. We get plenty of Russians in the club.”

I shut my mouth and cross my arms. That’s what he thinks? This is about my father. I guess, in a way, it partly is. But I’ve let my emotions show too easily. A rookie mistake.

“That why ye’re here, Mack?” he asks. “Have ye got it in your head to get some revenge?”

I go the obvious route of denying it.

“I just want to work. I don’t care about the Russians.”

Lachlan nods and taps his fingers against his thigh again. A gesture I still can’t quite make out. Does it mean he’s nervous, agitated, anxious? His expression gives nothing away. “Another thing, Mack.”

He waits until I give him my full attention before he goes on.

“There’s only one rule ye must abide by at all times if ye’re in my employ. You don’t ever… and I mean fucking ever… talk to the cops about anything.”

“Are you outta your mind?” I’m genuinely offended by his comment. “I’m from Southie. I ain’t no fuckin’ snitch.”

At least I wasn’t. Until Talia. Now, I don’t care. I’ll sing like a canary if it puts these guys away. Fuck what anybody else says.

“Jaysus, woman,” he sighs. “Ye clean up your fecking mouth before I do it for you. You want to work for me ye better start acting like a lady.”

“I am a goddamn lady.” I grin.

He shakes his head. I really like pushing his buttons, and I don’t know why. This is probably not going to end so well.

“One more thing,” he says as we pull up to the club.

I swivel in my seat and meet his intense gaze with questioning eyes. The hand at his side is tapping more insistently now, and the next words out of his mouth tell me exactly why.

“I’d rather not have to kill you.”

Here it is. The reality of the situation I’m in. I heed his warning for exactly what it is. I simply nod, and this time, there’s no grin on my face. I can tell by his tone he’s dead serious.

“Don’t give me a reason to, butterfly.”

“I won’t,” I choke out. Another lie.

Without another word, he gets out of the car and escorts me into the building. We walk straight past the bouncers and into the back, where he points at another girl warming up on stage.

“That’s Sasha,” he says. “She’ll help you get settled in.”

I nod and turn to go when he grabs me by the arm with a firm grip. “Remember what I said, Mack. Appetizer only.”

Chapter Eight

Mackenzie

S
asha is the female embodiment of natural beauty. She’s petite with soft curves and a body that I’m sure most men have a hard time looking away from. Her hair is a natural dark and her eyes blue like my own. Except where I’m hard, she’s sweet and soft spoken. She reminds me a little of Talia that way, and she actually turns out to be pretty nice. She grew up in Dot so she’s like a neighbor to me. Instantly, that makes us friends of course. We take care of our own in these parts of Boston.

In the twenty minutes I spend warming up with her, I learn that she is twenty-three and has been a dancer for the past two years. She doesn’t say anything about who got her into the club or divulge any obvious fear about working for the Irish mafia. Not that I expect her to blab right away, but I decide that maybe if I wear her down a little later she’ll give something up.

In the meantime, I put on my best smile and try to act my age for once. When the other dancers file into the dressing room, I quickly realize that this might not be as breezy as I anticipated. Scarlett warned me how competitive this industry is, and that most of the clubs are just like being back in high school. Between the dirty looks and catty comments, it’s quite obvious I’m considered enemy number one at the moment. This isn’t helping my chances of getting any information from the girls, but I try not to let it get to me. My main concern is getting close to the Russians. I need to know firsthand what happens to the women that entertain them.

I retouch my makeup with Sasha while some of the other girls chatter around us. When a tall brunette with bronzed skin and a statuesque body starts running her mouth, I try to ignore her. I’ve been around the block enough times to know how these games work. At first, it’s just little comments. She says something about me not paying house fees. Then something else about me not doing lap dances, because I think I’m better than them. But when her words fail to provoke an external reaction from me, she moves on to the big guns. She props her hip against the vanity and eyes me with disdain.

“Would you get a look at her?” she snaps her gum. “Exotic dancer my ass. She’s probably been giving hummers in back alleys for five dollars.”

A couple of the other girls snicker, and Sasha clears her throat. “Mandy…”

Mandy doesn’t stop. In fact, she takes things up a notch. By calling me the worst thing one girl can call another. “Is Lachlan on crack or what? Hiring this fricken’ slam pig.”

Oh, hell no. She did not just call me a fricken’ slam pig. I’m up and in her face before I can stop myself.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“You heard me.” She grins and draws out the words with dramatic hand gestures. “You’re a skeezah.”

“Jesus, Mandy.” One of the other girls tries to pull her away. “Are you off your head? That’s the girl that took Donovan out at the fights.”

“You think I give a shit?” Mandy spits. “Get a look at her. What’s she gonna’ do to me? Huh?”

“I’m gonna’ murder you if you keep runnin’ your mouth.”

Before I get a chance to carry through on it, Sasha tugs me away and takes me across the room to cool my jets. I’ve always been a hot-head, but I have to be. On the streets, you can’t take shit from no one. And if this were any other place, I would have held my ground. But I need this stupid job, and like it or not, I need these girls to trust me.

“Don’t worry about them honey,” Sasha says.

“Frigging slam pig,” I mutter. “She’s the slam pig.”

“They’re just jealous because word got around that you’re Lachlan’s girl,” Sasha explains.

“That’s not true,” I deny vehemently. “And besides, I’m pretty sure he hates my guts.”

She raises her delicate brows and leans a little closer, talking in a whisper. “He told all of his crew there’s a strict hands-off policy in effect for you. These guys won’t even look at you now. Why else would he do that unless he wants you for himself?”