Honored: An Alpha Mob Romance (City Series Book 4) (8 page)

The bar’s phone began to ring, piercing through my headache, and I glanced around. Nobody was in sight, so I slowly got off my stool, reached over the counter, and grabbed the receiver.

“Liam here,” I grunted.

“Well, just the man I was looking for,” came Colm’s snake voice.

I felt a stab of adrenaline. Why was he calling again?

“Hi, Colm, how are you today?”

“I’m fine. You sound like shit.”

“Just the whisky.”

He laughed. “Well, I have some good and bad news for you.”

“What’s up?”

I felt my fear mounting in my chest. For some reason, I had a horrible feeling.

“Things have changed, my friend. The good news is, you’re off the hook for the time being.”

I blinked. “So you’re not killing the girl?”

He laughed again. “That’s the bad news. The bitch got spooked and called the cops. We don’t know why or what she told them, but she has to be taken care of today. Max is on his way, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

My heart skipped a beat as I stared at myself in the mirror. Max was on his way to Ellie’s apartment, and he was going to murder her. That ruthless fuck was going to kill the girl in her own apartment.

I didn’t hear what Colm said next, and I didn’t care. I dropped the phone and ran into my office, grabbing the gun from the other night, plus my jacket and my keys, and then I raced through the main bar and outside into the piercing morning daylight. My hangover still lingered at the edges of my brain, but the fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins were slowly burning it away.

I unlocked my car, threw the door open, and jumped in, starting the engine. I pulled out fast, driving like a maniac. I blew through a stop sign, took a hard right turn and barely missed a pedestrian, and sped west. I gritted my teeth as I got caught at a red but slowly rolled through it anyway.

Max was on his way. Max was on his way to kill her that very second, and I was ten minutes away at least. If I was lucky, I could cut that in half, but would I be too late? From what I knew, Max had been staking her out for the past few days in that stupid fucking van, stalking her like an asshole. She had probably spotted him, and it had scared her, which made her call the cops.

What were they thinking? If Ellie was going to talk to the police about what she had seen, didn’t they realize she would have done it already? Colm was paranoid, insane with trying to hold on to the Mob. He was willing to make reckless and stupid moves, and it was going to get him and everyone else killed. Worse, it was going to get Ellie killed.

I pressed harder on the gas and zoomed through the streets, weaving around slow cars where I could and cutting down side streets when I was blocked by traffic. I silently prayed that a cop didn’t see me, because Ellie was dead if I got pulled over. Frankly, I wasn’t even sure if I would stop for a cop; maybe they’d be able to help stop Max.

My wheels screeched and sent up smoke as I pulled a hard right into Ellie’s neighborhood, flying down the street. My hands gripped the wheel as I blew through two more stop signs, coming up to her block. Up ahead, parked in the middle of the street with its doors wide open and emergency lights flashing, was a black van. It was missing its license plate, but I knew exactly who owned it.

I was too late. I was too fucking late. Max had gotten there before me.

I slammed on my brakes and jumped out the door, the gun already in my hand. I flicked off the safety and jumped up her stoop. The building’s front door was locked, so I shot it off, using three bullets, but I didn’t care. I didn’t have time to sneak in. I kicked the door open, wood splintering all over the place, and jumped inside.

My heart was going to break through my chest.

I couldn’t be too late. I couldn’t be too late.

As I barreled up the steps, there were no thoughts in my mind other than the overwhelming need to save her life.

I
sat at my kitchen table, looking at the Saturday morning light filtering in through the windows. I sipped my coffee and sighed, feelings of shame and anger still lingering from the night before.

The cops came pretty fast. But by the time they arrived, the van had already pulled away, and it didn’t show up again. At first, the two officers were pretty kind to me; they came into my apartment, sat down at my table, and listened to me as I told them about this mysterious van following me around. They didn’t put too much stock in the guys dumping packages into the river—apparently that happened all the time—but they didn’t seem like they outright didn’t believe me.

They had agreed to stick around the neighborhood for a little while and keep an eye out for any suspicious vans. So for the next half hour, they parked down at the corner and waited. I paced around my room, embarrassed and nervous.

Of course the van never showed up again. After a half hour went by, the cops came back and told me that there was nothing they could do. They said I was probably seeing different vans, that I was just upset from the guys harassing me the other day, and that I should consider talking to a friend or something instead of calling the police. They left after that, and I buried my face in a pillow.

I had never called the police before in my entire life. I had never needed to, for any reason. I wasn’t the kind of person to overreact about something or to make things up for attention. I knew what was happening to me.

I wasn’t crazy. I definitely wasn’t crazy. I couldn’t be crazy, could I?

I took another sip of coffee and sighed. I looked at Petey in the other room and wished he could verify my story. He had seen the van at least once or twice, and he was around when the guy chased me.

Unfortunately, Petey was a dog, and his English wasn’t great.

The cops were actually pretty nice about everything in the end. I understood that they felt like I was wasting their time, though they didn’t rub that in my face too much. Philly was full of real problems. But I genuinely had no interest in making up stories, let alone in making the police come out every time I was scared. In the end, it was completely pointless to have called them, and I regretted it. They made me feel like a bratty princess, even though they were more than professional, when I was far from that. I had gone through my own shit, dealt with my own demons, and I always would. I hated that I was suddenly the girl who was afraid of random vans.

The coffee was cold on my next sip, and I sighed. As I stood up to refresh my cup, I heard my doorbell buzz.

Petey let out a bark and I looked up, surprised. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I padded over barefoot to the intercom system and hit the button.

“Yes?” I said.

“Got a delivery here for you,” the guy said.

“Uh, okay, come on up,” I said, buzzing him in.

I wasn’t expecting anything, but it wasn’t impossible that I had a package. I was like everyone else: I loved buying stuff online and having it appear at my apartment. It was almost like magic.

Not long after I let him up, there was a loud knock at my door. Petey started barking.

“Hold on a second,” I called out.

I walked over to Petey and took him by the collar. “Petey, come on,” I said. I pulled him over to my bedroom, opened the door, and moved him in.

“Stay here,” I said, closing the door behind me. Satisfied the poor delivery guy wasn’t going to get mobbed by Petey, I walked back to the front door, released the bolt, and pulled it open.

The guy standing there wasn’t a deliveryman. He was wearing a black ski mask, a black sweatshirt, loose jeans, and was easily over six feet tall.

“Who are—” I said, but before I could say anything more, he pulled out a gun and shoved it in my face.

“Get inside, bitch,” he said, voice gruff.

My insides felt like ice as I backed into my apartment. My eyes were wide and I put my hands up. It almost seemed fake. I felt myself begin to tremble as he followed me in, shutting the door behind him.

“On the couch,” he grunted.

“Okay, please don’t hurt me,” I said in a quiet voice.

I backed into the living room and sat down on the couch, my entire body shaking. I had never seen a real gun in front of me before, let alone had a man wearing a ski mask shove one in my face.

For a brief moment, I wished that the cops could have been around. Not to save me, but to see what was happening as proof that I wasn’t insane.

“If you fucking scream or move, I will kill you,” the man said, sitting down on the coffee table, facing me. He held the gun pointed at my chest.

“Take whatever you want,” I managed to say. My voice was shaky, and I felt like I was about to cry. In my bedroom, Petey began whining, but thankfully he didn’t bark.

“Is your dog back there?”

“Yes, in my room.”

“Can he get out?”

“No.”

The man was quiet for a second. He released a low sigh. I wanted to ask him his name, ask him what he wanted. I wanted to offer him some coffee from the kitchen. In that moment, I would have done anything to show him that I was a person, and not some random person he could murder. I wasn’t thinking straight, though, and just continued to stare at him.

“Did you see two men dumping bodies into the river?”

The question cut through me and I took a sharp breath. Those packages had been dead bodies? There was no way. They were more or less square, and they looked so heavy.

Unless the bodies had been broken up.

I nearly screamed, but my mouth could only move uselessly. I was unable to make a sound, frozen with sheer terror. The guy gestured with his gun, putting it in my face.

“Did you see something or not, bitch?”

“Yes,” I managed.

“What did you tell the cops?”

I stared at him, confused, until it clicked. He was the guy in the van. Maybe he was the guy who had chased me, too. And they had no clue what I had said to the cops. He probably thought I told the cops about what I had seen, and he was going to punish me for it.

“Nothing, I swear to god I told them nothing,” I said.

“Why did you call them?”

“The van.”

The grunted. “What do you mean? Hurry the fuck up.”

“I saw the van following me. I was scared. Please don’t kill me.”

“What did they say?”

“Nothing!”

“What did they fucking say?”

“They didn’t say anything. They thought I was lying.”

I was practically crying, and my entire body cringed away from him. I could barely control my thoughts, let alone my body. Violent trembling overtook me, like my whole body was convulsing.

The man stood up and paced to the other side of the coffee table. He held the gun out straight, pointing it directly at me.

“I’m sorry, but I have to do this,” he said.

“Please, please, I’m so sorry, I didn’t tell them anything.”

They say your life flashes before your eyes. Nothing flashed for me. I was just frozen with fear, staring at the guy’s masked face.
This can’t be real
kept running through my mind.

This can’t be real, this can’t be real, this can’t be real.

Suddenly, the front door burst open with a loud bang. The man jerked up and looked over, but before he could do anything, something hit him in the shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground. I looked over, shocked, to see Liam standing there, a gun held in his two hands and smoke curling from the end of a long black barrel. He immediately rushed over to me.

“Ellie, fuck, are you okay?”

“What’s going on?” I said. My mind was reeling. I couldn’t think.

“It’s okay, it’s fine, I’m getting you out of here.”

Liam stood and looked down at the man, who was on the ground, groaning. He kicked the gun away from him and stomped down on his shoulder.

“Tell Colm he can go fuck himself,” Liam said.

“Fuck you, Liam,” the man on the ground grunted.

Did they know each other? I couldn’t get my frazzled mind together. Blood was pounding through my ears.

Liam kicked him again, harder, and the man stopped struggling. I stared, my entire body locked in fright and confusion. Liam turned back toward me, putting the gun into the waistband of his pants, and knelt down next to me.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“Who is that? What are you doing here?”

He looked me in the eye. “I promise, I’ll explain everything to you. But we need to get out of here right now.”

“But, we have to call the police.”

“No, no fucking cops.”

“That man was going to kill me. I saw them dumping bodies. We have to call the police.”

Nothing made sense, and I knew I was babbling, but I couldn’t help it. What was Liam doing here?

He shook his head again. “No cops, Ellie. You can’t trust them. You can’t trust anyone right now.”

“What are you talking about? They’re the police.”

“Ellie, look at me.”

His hands squeezed my shoulders, and I looked him in the eye. He looked tired and disheveled, but for a moment I felt safe. Something told me I needed to listen to him. It was completely crazy, everything was completely crazy, but he had saved my life. He had stopped that man from murdering me in broad daylight in my own apartment.

“Please, listen to me. If the cops could protect you, I’d take you there myself. But they can’t. We have to go, right now, before they show up. I’m guessing someone already called them.” 

“Okay,” I said softly.

He stood and grabbed my hand, pulling me up against him. I felt his warmth and his strength, and I began to slowly regain some measure of control over myself. I stopped trembling, although the freezing cold terror still lingered in my gut.

“Come on,” he said, and he began to move out of my apartment. I held on to his hand and let him lead me out my apartment door, down the stairs, through the building’s busted-up entry, and out into the street.

We passed the black van, heading toward another car idling behind it. He opened the door of the black sports car and nodded. I got in, and he circled around to the driver’s seat and climbed in. He put the car into gear and began to reverse very fast back down my block and into the intersection. He turned the wheel, spinning us to the side, and began to speed down the street, wheels spinning and tearing up rubber, leaving small puffs of smoke, heading away from my apartment.