Mob Bride (The O’Rourke Brotherhood #5)

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Carrie

I’ve been eavesdropping on Bartlomiej’s call all night. He thinks I’m at my apartment, but I’m in my car a block away. I bugged this office while he showered after his swim. I figured with trip details to finalize and me not there, he would have plenty to say. I haven’t been wrong. He’s been quite the Chatty Cathy last night and well into this morning.

However, it’s the call he’s on now that has me most worried. Jacek’s has been out of the coma for a couple of days. It was unfortunately short-lived, and the fucker didn’t have the courtesy to die. I thought I’d wounded him badly enough he would wind up bleeding out.

Little did I know. That’ll teach me never to walk away before I’m certain the job is done.

They’ve been going back and forth on the phone for the last fifty minutes about the upcoming meeting and how Jacek has certain things he wants to ensure happen while Bartlomiej is gone. As the elder one and the leader, it doesn’t thrill Bartlomiej to hear all of his baby brother’s opinions. It’s been one argument after another this entire call. However, now they’ve moved on to other things that are way more personal to me. Jacek’s been bitching about me for the last couple of minutes.

“Bartek, you are a fool to trust her. I’m telling you nothing good is coming from keeping her around. This will be a disaster if you take her along with you. She’s going to be privy to way too much. There’s a reason I went after her.”

“Yeah and look at what beating the shit out of her got you. Nothing. You are none the wiser than you were before you laid hands on her. You’re lucky you’re my brother, otherwise, I would have killed you for that. Any other man who hurt my woman the way you did would have died a long and painful death to make up for how angry I am and how you made her suffer. Count your blessings, little brother.”

“But look at what’s happened since then. How is it such a coincidence she was not only at the lumberyard, but Shane was there, too? I saw them together. He was protecting her, and she was protecting him. They weren’t just there by coincidence.”

“You really think Kaja is some kind of secret agent who’s been watching me? No. We’re having a rough spot right now, just like any couple would. I understand why she felt jealous and followed me. I’ve been pushing her too hard, and it’s coming back to bite me. I won’t be dealing with the Armenians the entire time I’m up there. I can try to make this an enjoyable trip for us.”

“Bartek, I’ve never known you to be such a fool as you are now.”

“Watch it, little brother. I may love you and you might be in the hospital, but my patience isn’t never-ending.”

“But your foolishness is.” Jacek is certainly pushing his luck, but this conversation makes my heart race. “Bartek, think about it. The lumberyard and then on the path. She was there when Shane was, too. He was already having a secret meeting with her. There has to be an explanation beyond coincidence.”

“And what do you believe that is? That she’s a spy for the O’Rourkes?”

“I don’t know. But Bartek, she’s the one who shot me.”

That revelation hangs in the air for a moment before Bartlomiej erupts.

“You lying sack of shit. How dare you accuse my girlfriend of that just because you don’t like her? Just because you think I pay too much attention to her. That is a horrible thing to say, and that’s a lie I cannot forgive you for.”

“And I would understand that, Bartek, if it was a lie, but it’s not. She shot me. She looked straight at me and put two bullets in me. I’m lucky I survived. I don’t think it was because she’s a shit shooter. I think she believed I would bleed out if she just left me there. Little did she know I’m more stubborn than that.”

His stubbornness is certainly not a surprise to me. It seems to fit with everything about him.

Bartek snaps at him. “I don’t believe you.”

“I can’t believe you’re turning a blind eye to the obvious.”

“Nothing about this is obvious, Jacek. You need to give me more proof than two coincidences.”

“Okay, so they were coincidences. Why did they happen so close together? In a matter of a couple weeks, she’s at two shootouts, and Shane is also at both.”

That hangs in the air, just like his original accusation did. But now Bartlomiej doesn’t have a sound explanation, and neither do I. It’s one thing for me to have seemed suspicious, and Jacek took things into his own hands. But now he’s shoving rather than pushing the argument that I have ulterior motives to what I’m doing.

How the fuck am I going to get out of this?

My mind races as fast as my heart as I try to conjure something I can say once I see him. I doubt Bartlomiej will let this matter rest since Jacek is a dog with a bone.

“Bartek, you need to have the bitch followed. Not just guards, but actual people staking out her place. I guarantee she’s slipping out at night, and I guarantee you Shane O’Rourke is up to his shit-stained ass in it.”

“How’s it possible they’re connected? What brought them together? You think she’s Irish, and the O’Rourkes sent a woman in to do a man’s job?”

“You know as well as I do, Bartek, that women make far greater spies than men. She’s a total honeypot. But no, she’s not Irish.”

I know I’m not. I’m Welsh. My mother and father both served in the British military before they retired and moved to the U.S. I may have been born here in the U.S., but I still consider myself as Welsh as I do American. I even spoke the language as a child.

“There’s some way her family’s connected to the O’Rourkes, and that’s how she wound up in all of this.”

That freezes me in my spot. If my heart was racing before, now it’s stopped. Jacek’s too close to the truth, and it terrifies me one of them will discover my mom’s connections to all of this. It may have started out as a coincidence I chose Shane’s construction site to hide at, but there’s no way they’ll believe that if they discover my mom’s the O’Rourkes’ private physician.

She’ll become just as big a target as I am. In fact, she’ll be target number one in order to manipulate me and the O’Rourkes. And if they can’t get anything out of her, then she’ll be our punishment. My mind continues to leapfrog from one plausible lie to another as the conversation continues.

“All right, Jacek, say you’re telling the truth. What now? How do we to deal with her?”

Jacek snorts. “Really? You have to ask? It’s obvious what we have to do.”

“No, I’m not killing her. I’m not killing my girlfriend. And even if she wasn’t my girlfriend, I’m not killing a woman.”

“You don’t have to. I’m more than happy to do the job for you since you can’t.”

The accusation Bartlomiej is too weak to get the job done is just as damning as Jacek claiming he’s a naive fool. Jacek isn’t wrong. No one but Bartlomiej’s brother—maybe his mother—would get away with such accusations.

“Bring me proof, Jacek. Indisputable, incontrovertible proof she’s what you say she is. Then we’ll go from there.”

“I already have proof she’s not who she says she is.”

That makes my brow furrow. What could he possibly have on me that would refute any denial I make? Bartlomiej wonders the same thing.

“Spill it. Obviously, you’ve been keeping these little gems to yourself. What do you have against her?”

“She’s been sneaking out of her condo by going out on the balcony and easing in through the window of the vacant unit beside her. It’s right next to the emergency stairs. She’s timed it for when the guards do a sweep to the elevators and back. She knows their routine.”

“How do you know she does this?”

“Because I put a camera near the ceiling right outside that door, and I have a camera at the exit to the street. Did you know she has a car?”

“What? No, she doesn’t. I would know that. There’s nothing registered under her name. My men have never seen her go to one. She always uses public transportation, or she lets me send a driver.”

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one. She parks it two blocks away. She doesn’t want us to know. But that’s how she slips away to meet her handlers.”

“Handlers? What the hell, Jacek? What are you getting at? That’s more than her just working for the O’Rourkes.”

Oh, motherfucker. He knows. Tomorrow’s gonna be the day of my death, if not tonight.

“Bartek, she’s a federal agent.”

“What? That’s fucking impossible!”

“No, it’s not. I have the footage of it all. Two nights ago, she slipped out and met her handler at a wooded area near McCarren Park. You know there’re plenty of trees near there. I watched her meet with a woman. They spoke for about ten minutes. What’s even more interesting than that is Shane O’Rourke watched that meeting. Then he led her to one of their warehouses. They were inside that building for nearly two hours. He was probably fucking her the entire time because the kiss they shared when they went back to their cars wasn’t one you give your brother or your cousin. They practically devoured each other. I’m surprised she didn’t get on her knees for him right then and there. I watched her hand run over his junk, and his hand went down her pants. Whatever they did for those two hours in the warehouse, it wasn’t enough for them.”

It’s all true. We left each other just as worked up as when we arrived. The need wasn’t sated, even though we had the best sex of my life.

“So, Bartek, what’re you going to do? I’ve already sent the photos to you in your email.”

“What? What the fuck were you thinking, sending them through email?”

“I’m thinking the O’Rourkes should know we’re onto them. We watch them scramble to see how they try to fix this. If she suddenly disappears, we’ll know I’m right. That she’s working with them, and that it’s not another—coincidence.” He pauses for effect.

The snideness in it makes my upper lip curl in disgust. He’s always been such a smug motherfucker. He thinks he knows so much. Unfortunately, in this case, he does. I’m on my laptop to listen to the conversation. I open a secure browser on my VPN and pull up the three email accounts Bartek uses and thinks no one but Jacek knows about. I sit back in my seat in shock as I look at the photos attached in an email.

It is all so incriminating. Not just the photos of Shane and me outside the warehouse. There’re photos from us getting in the car at the lumberyard. There’re photos from us speaking after he confronted me outside the subway. There’re photos of him going into my apartment. There’re photos of everything. Any time I’ve been anywhere near Shane.

There’re also photos of him staked out in a car. The landmarks make it obvious he’s near my place and Bartek’s. The one thing I don’t see are photos of an empty car that must have the surveillance cameras Shane described. At least that remains a secret for them.

From the way Bartlomiej swears repeatedly, I know he’s looking at the same thing I am. He switches back and forth between English and Polish. He utters Polish phrases the typical person wouldn’t know because they’re that vulgar. Those are exactly what I studied to make sure I understood for moments just like this—or at least close to it. Never did I imagine my cover would be so spectacularly blown.

I’ve got to let my handlers know I’ve been made. I need a plan for retreat if I can’t convince Bartlomiej that Jacek is making all this up. The one advantage is none of these photos have a time stamp. I could claim these were from before I dated Bartlomiej. Yeah, the ones from the lumberyard and trail are damning, but I’ll claim Shane isn’t over me, and he’s stalking me. I hate throwing him under the bus, and it’s not because I’m putting the job ahead of him. It’s to buy me time to let Shane know what’s happening, so his family can prepare. There’s no way I’ll hide whatever lies I spew. Shane and his family are better equipped to handle this than I am on my own.

Obviously, I’m going to have to tell a selective truth to my handlers. They can’t know why my cover was blown until I can come up with a conceivable excuse for involving the O’Rourkes as well. That excuse is something I’ll form with Shane.

“So, Bartlomiej, I ask you again. What are you going to do about this? Now, do you believe me?”

Silence. No more swearing. No muttering. Nothing. Just silence for several minutes. I wonder what Bartlomiej’s thinking. I know Jacek triggered the psychopath in my pseudo-boyfriend. The quieter he is, the more men fear him. They know his mind’s working overtime as he devises punishments to rival any military regime’s dictator. I am going to die.

I didn’t sleep at all last night. I can’t pack up my apartment in case Bartlomiej and Jacek or men they send come to check. The agency will take care of cleaning up the safe house and here. But I get my personal effects together and put them into the false panel hiding place I created in the back of my closet. There’s a tiny latch that’s next to impossible to find if you don’t know where it is. Even I have to run my fingers over the wall a bit to find it.

I’ve just showered and put on my makeup. I’m getting ready to face the day. I plan to go to Bartlomiej’s on my own terms. I spent the time while I packed the few things I could, coming up with excuses about how I was involved with Shane before I was involved with Bartlomiej. That Jacek has proved yet again he doesn’t like me. That he’s jealous of the attention Bartlomiej pays me. That he believes any woman makes them weak. That he would hate any woman Bartlomiej dates.

I know Bartlomiej’ll claim he’s dated other women in the past who didn’t bother Jacek, and I’ll ask him which of them he’s asked to move in with him. I know he’s “kept”—air quotes—other women and put them in apartments. I know he’s provided them with clothes and cell phones, but I don’t think he’s ever pushed so hard to have one of them as involved in his life as he has me. I don’t know if he loved any of them or told them he loved them, but I know his feelings now are true since he’s so impatiently waiting to fuck me. I have to be careful and spin the tail in a way that remains plausible. This might be the most challenging acting role of my life.

I hear my front door open. It’s not the middle of the night when I know men used to slip in to check on me to make sure I was really there. It’s been months since Bartlomiej did that, but it’s obvious he’ll start again. I’m always cautious to ensure my nightly escapades get me back in time for any random bed check.

But who the hell is that?

“Hello?”

I’m ready to go for my gun when three men burst into my bedroom. I’m still in my bathrobe with a towel wrapped around my head. He knocked the towel askew with his kiss, so I pull it off.

“Tymoteusz, what the hell are you doing here? Get out!”

I clutch my robe to me since I didn’t have the belt fastened. Tymoteusz expression screams he knows everything Bartlomiej and Jacek discussed last night. He’s aware I’m an agent, and I’m somehow involved with Shane. He’s always been the one to come to my defense. The one who’s protected me. Now he looks like he’ll be the one to gut me.

“Kaja, get dressed. Bartek wants to see you.”

“I know. I am getting ready. We’re going on our trip. You didn’t have to burst in here to make sure I’d show up. I already promised him I would.”

I try to sound as normal as I can, as though nothing out of the ordinary is happening. But I tremble for good measure. I allow my genuine fear to show.

Bartlomiej’s put a hit on me.

He’s giving his cousin a chance before he makes it an open contract.

“Don’t speak. Get dressed. If you don’t come out in the next three minutes, I’ll drag you out by your hair naked if I have to.”

“Tymoteusz, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t. I believe nothing you say. I know who you are. I know you’re a liar and a spy. Like I said, three minutes to dress, or I’ll drag you out of here naked. I don’t care who sees you. I’ll dump you in front of Bartek naked as the day you were born. It’ll make it easier for him to slash your throat if you don’t have a shirt in the way.”

My eyes widen, and my hands tremble.

“You can cut that shit out, Kaja. You may have fooled me before with your shitty acting, but you don’t fool me now. Don’t play innocent with me because I know what you are. Give me your phone. You’re not calling Shane O’Rourke to beg him to save you.”

I stand my ground for a few seconds before I go to my bedside table and throw the phone at him.

“Get out. You’re wasting my three minutes.”

There’s no point in pretending now. It’ll only piss him off more. He walks out along with the two men who stood as silent guards, guns pointing at me. They don’t close the door behind them. Luckily, I have a walk-in closet. I grab a bra and panties, then step into the closet. I find clothes that’ll be comfortable to run in.

If I wear sneakers, it’ll make it too obvious I plan to bolt. I won’t wear heels since I’ll break my fucking neck in them, and ballet flats will come off. Instead, I pick some flat boots that will make it easy for me to go the moment I have the chance. I’m silent as I leave my bedroom. I grab my purse, which I can already tell they’ve searched. There’s nothing incriminating. That’s one thing I’m always sure of. I always expect there’s the chance I’ll be made, so I carry nothing with me besides mace, which makes sense as a single woman living in New York. That’s entirely plausible.

I head out to a car parked in the underground garage. The two men who came with Tymoteusz get into the driver’s seat and the front passenger seat. Tymoteusz slides into the town car beside me. He has his gun resting on his lap, ready to put it to my head if I even breathe the wrong way. We ride in silence as we head toward Queens. We aren’t going to Bartlomiej’s since he lives pretty close to me in Brooklyn.

I keep an eye on our surroundings. I appear as though I’m sulking as I gaze out the window. That’s just fine, but I’m thinking about each place I could get out and run. They didn’t pay attention to me as I climbed in. One guy opened the door, but he focused on his partner, so I ensured the childproof lock was off. When I’m ready to run, I don’t want to pull the handle and be stuck.

As we get into Queens, I expect to wind up at one of Bartlomiej’s empty properties. We draw close to a neighborhood I recognize. It’s where all the Four Families’ married couples live. Now, that’s a trip and a half.

All the current senior members of the Mafia, the Cartel, and the mob grew up in the two same neighborhoods. Eventually, their parents had empty nests when the guys were single and on their own. A bunch of them lived in Manhattan, but as they got married over the last five years, not only did those couples move back into Queens, they all bought homes in the neighborhoods where their parents live.

When they were growing up, the district borders in the neighborhood meant they went to different elementary and middle schools, but they wound up together in high school. I did a full background check on all the major syndicate members. Obviously, it came back with scant details of their adult lives—plenty on their business and legal issues, just not them personally—but there were photos from different extracurriculars they did while they were in school together. It’s no surprise all of them were athletes in high school and college. None of them gained their physiques by sitting around or even by just going to the gym.

I might have recognized Shane the night we met if the lighting hadn’t been so poor. It also didn’t help that my eyes were nearly swollen shut.

I don’t know why we’re taking this route, but I pray it’s to my advantage. The syndicate community is gated, but there’s a car about to turn into it, forcing us to slow down. I unfasten my seat belt, praying it doesn’t make too much noise. Fortunately, Tymoteusz just lowered the privacy window to tell the driver to go around and to stop wasting time.

I pull on the door handle just as my belt slips from over my left shoulder. I bolt from the car, slamming the door shut behind me since the windows are bulletproof. It goes both ways. Just like a bullet can’t come into the car, a bullet can’t leave the car. In the time it takes for the driver to get the window down and the first shot fired toward me, I’m already through the gate. I’m running as fast as I can, even though I hear Tymoteusz and the guard at the gate yelling at me. Then Tymoteusz’s bellowing at the guard, demanding the guy let him in.

I look around, trying to get my bearings because I don’t know exactly which house is which. I don’t know who’s a syndicate member and who isn’t. But more likely than not, the house I pick’ll be one a member of the Four Families owns.

Almost all the houses have their own private gate. I spot a blonde man who’s just gotten out of his car. I know who he is.

“ MISHA !”

I risk screaming and telling Tymoteusz where I am. He spins around, reaching for his gun. I put my hands in the air as I continue to run toward him. He sees the car pursuing me.

“Misha, please. I’m Shane’s girlfriend. Let me in. It’s Bartlomiej’s men. Please.”

I rush to explain as I slow slightly when I’m nearly to the gate. I look over my shoulder, praying he’ll let me in, in time to escape. He must recognize Tymoteusz, who’s leaning out the window with a gun pointed at me. Misha doesn’t hesitate as he draws his weapon.

At the same time, he clicks something in his pocket, and the gate opens. The moment there’s enough space for me to slip through, he clicks his fob again, and the gate closes. Despite a leading member of the bratva pointing a gun at them, Tymoteusz and his men continue to draw closer.

Tymoteusz’s window remains open with his gun out of it. The moment he’s within range, and Misha’s certain he has a clear shot, he takes it. The silencer on his gun just makes it sound like a poof of air. The bullet goes right between Tymoteusz’s eyes, not dead center in his forehead. The space must look almost microscopic from this distance. It’s a testimony to the near paramilitary conditioning the bratva’s known for. I lower my hands and sprint to his car.

“Get behind it.” He yells to me as he tilts his head toward his car.

Bartlomiej’s men—they’re no longer Tymoteusz’s—drive past. Misha doesn’t waste any bullets, certain the car is reinforced, but he doesn’t lower his gun until they’re out of sight. He doesn’t holster it when he turns to me, but at least he points the gun to the ground.

“Shane doesn’t have a girlfriend. Who are you?”

“Shane and I are involved. It’s complicated, but I mean something to him. Please, I can explain some of it, but I need to get inside somewhere. That won’t be the only car following me. They might’ve been the only ones to get into this neighborhood, but there will be more men after me.”

“Who are you?”

“I can’t tell you that yet. Not until I speak to Shane. Please, call him or text him. Tell him it’s about Carrie. He’ll understand what that means.”

I’m panting between words, and I feel my heart beating in my ears. I put my hands on my thighs and bend over for a moment.

“How far did you run?”

“I got out of the car at your community gate. I slipped through when another car entered. Actually, that was your car.” I didn’t realize I must have followed Misha in. I was too busy trying to get onto his property to recognize the car.

“I bolted to the right as soon as I got in because I worried whoever was in the car in front of me would hear or see the commotion. I didn’t want them looking in their mirrors and seeing what was happening. I wrapped back around and wound up on your street as I tried to lose Tymoteusz.”

“You need to at least tell me how you’re connected to the Poles.”

I shake my head. “I wish I didn’t have to be evasive, Misha, but until I speak to Shane, I have to be.”

“You clearly know who I am.”

His eyes narrow at me. The accusation and speculation clear. The front door opens, and a striking blonde sticks her head out, calling to her husband. I see the rings on her finger, and I know this is Misha’s home, but I don’t know her name. She steps out as she spots me.

“Kitty, go back in the house now. Close the door.”

“Who is that, Misha? She’s clearly winded. Does she need help?” She ignores her husband’s instructions, looking around in all directions as she approaches.

“ Kitty .” The warning in Misha’s voice is clear, but the look she shoots her husband is placating.

“Misha, you know I’m going to check on her. You either let me, or we wind up in an argument later.”

“Of all the times it’s been convenient having a wife who’s a nurse, this certainly isn’t one of them.” Misha’s grumbling, but there’s no bite to his words. This woman, Kitty, comes to stand before me.

“I’m all right. I’m just winded from running.”

She sweeps her gaze over me, assessing whether that’s true. When she’s satisfied I’ll survive, she asks the same question her husband did.

“Who are you?”

“I’m involved with Shane. I came into this neighborhood for sanctuary.”

I know the Four Families’ rule. Sylvia Mancinelli imposed it when she married Don Salvatore. Any syndicate woman can seek shelter with her if it’s a matter of life and death. The woman’s protected until her family can come to her. It doesn’t suspend any hostilities among the men, but it allows the woman a chance to survive. Something about one of Sylvia’s sisters being attacked and killed in Palermo and knowing she had nowhere to go.

Since the other syndicate members have gotten married, they’ve implemented the same rule. I’m banking on that now. Kitty’s eyes narrow and her gaze sharpens.

“How do you know about that? You are definitely not a wife. You’re not a girlfriend. You’re not a daughter or a sister.”

Her sharp tone takes me aback. It shouldn’t surprise me for all I know about the Four Families, that they would know the same about Shane. That he’s not involved with anyone right now. At least not formally.

“Please, just text or call Shane. Tell him it’s about Carrie. He’ll understand. Let him come and get me, then I’ll disappear.”

Never mind the fact this is the exact family that’s my true target. It’s through Bartlomiej that I’m trying to gather intel on the bratva. If they protect me, there’s no way I can turn them in.