Mob Bride (The O’Rourke Brotherhood #5)

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Carrie

Shane releases my hands from the bra, and I run my fingertips up and down his back as he rolls us onto our sides. Then he moves, so I’m draped across his chest. My hand and head rest beside his heart. I hear how it pounds just like mine does. I don’t know what to say to all of this, and I guess he doesn’t either because we remain silent, just enjoying the moment.

Eventually, our bodies cool, and we shiver. It makes us laugh at the same time as we get up and sit on the edge of the bed together. It’s another moment before we get dressed. I don’t know why we both do this, when I suppose we could pull the covers down and snuggle beneath the sheets and comforter.

Is it a force of habit that we both leave when we’re done with sex? I don’t think so. Is it too intimate to remain here? Maybe, but it’s with silent agreement we head back downstairs.

We’re holding hands, so I don’t feel like he’s grown distant or anything. Just the opposite. It feels like a normal couple where sex is enjoyable and a part of the relationship, but it’s such the norm we continue with our day.

We head to the living room, and he grabs the remotes and turns on the TV to a streaming platform.

“Are there any movies you’ve been wanting to watch? Anything that interests you?”

I name a recent one I saw listed the last time I watched TV.

“Are you hungry? Do you want snacks? I have popcorn.”

“No, not hungry yet. Maybe later, but for now, I’m good. Though, actually, I could go for a glass of water, please.”

He heads into the kitchen, and I hear him moving around. The phone I left on the table earlier buzzes. I look at the number and realize it’s my office. I ignore it, but I also see there’re four other missed calls from them. It makes me question whether I can keep avoiding their calls. It’s only going to make them more suspicious if I do. When Shane comes back with bottled water, I show him my phone.

“I’ve got to do something since they’ve called this many times.”

“I know. Call them back, but put them on speaker, so I can hear their tone of voice, not just their words.”

“All right.” I hit the missed call number and put it on speaker. It doesn’t even ring.

“Carys, where the hell are you?”

“I told you already, Angela. I found somewhere safe.”

“Yeah, well, not safe enough because someone else is after Bartlomiej.”

“What do you mean by that?” I glance at Shane, wondering if he’s done something or at least ordered it. He shakes his head.

“He went on that trip to Boston and was attacked.”

“Bratva?”

My eyes widen as I keep watching Shane. He shrugs his shoulders. This is news to him, too.

“We don’t know yet. It could be, but it could be several other syndicates, too. According to you, he’s been pissing a lot of them off.”

“He has, but I don’t know which ones would make a move on him. It could be a Boston syndicate, not one from New York.”

“They left a calling card.”

“What? They never do that.”

“Whoever attacked did it while Bartlomiej was in his SUV on the way from the airport to his hotel. The attackers left a red apple at the scene.”

My brow furrows as I lift my shoulders to Shane. This call is extra stressful, so they stay up by my ears as I hunch forward to lean my elbows on my thighs.

New York’s nickname is the Big Apple, but that is so bizarre. I don’t automatically believe it means a New York syndicate. Why would they try to lead anybody back to them? I don’t know if an apple is significant to any family anywhere.

Shane shrugs again. He would know better than just about anybody if a red apple was a calling card.

“Angela, I don’t know what to make of that, but I wouldn’t put it past a syndicate from Boston or any other city to put that apple there to draw attention away from them to pin it on a family from New York.”

I’m careful again not to say here in New York. I don’t want her to know I’m still in the state, let alone the city. I pick my words carefully.

“Until we learn otherwise, that’s what it would seem. If you’d been on that trip, they could’ve caught you in the middle.”

I know she’s not wrong, and it curdles my stomach. Shane can tell—or maybe he feels the same way—because he pulls me onto his lap just like he did the last time I was on the phone. I curl into him as the line goes quiet. Angela’s waiting for me to say something else, and I’m waiting for her to speak.

I won’t give anything away until I know what the point of this call is because it’s definitely more than just informing me of the attack.

“Carys, you’re going to lose your job if you don’t get back to the office soon. Phil suspects there’s something more going on you’re not telling us. He thinks you fled to one of the big families in New York. That you might have a CI among them you haven’t disclosed, or you have some other connection to them. He wants answers now.”

“Does he think my sympathies switched? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I don’t know. That’s what he hinted at. But you do realize if you’re aiding and abetting, they’ll arrest you, right? And Phil being Phil, he’ll find a way for them to prosecute you to the max.”

“I know, but you guys need to give me a bit more time. Now that someone’s attacked Bartlomiej, I feel even less inclined to reveal myself than before. I don’t feel like it decreased the threat. What happened to him, anyway? You didn’t say.”

“He survived. His driver got him away from the scene, but the men in his other vehicle weren’t so lucky.”

“What happened during the attack? Was it people shooting again?”

“They tried to reroute him and funnel him into some type of trap.”

“You guys know nothing more than that?”

“No. There was nothing at the scene.”

“What about the apple? How do you know about that?”

Things suddenly make a whole lot less sense than they did a moment ago. When she pauses, even though it’s less than ten seconds, I know she’s scrambling for a lie.

“We have someone in the Boston Poles now. We activated him when we heard Bartlomiej planned to go to Boston.”

I look at Shane and shake my head. That’s bullshit. If that were the case, I would’ve known because the plan was for me to accompany him before all of this went to shit. There definitely wasn’t an apple. She’s merely baiting me to see what I’ll confess or let slip.

“Angela, just like I said before, you might think this is a secure line, but I don’t believe it is. I gotta go before anyone tracks me. I’ve been on the phone too long already. I’ll be in touch when I’m on my way back.”

“Oh—”

“Bye, Angela.” I hang up before she can say anything else.

The conversation frustrates me. I don’t feel like it’s any safer for me to return than it was a few hours ago.

“What do you think of all of that?” I want Shane’s opinion because he looked skeptical from the get-go.

“I’m not sure yet. I didn’t know there was an attack on Bartlomiej, and I definitely don’t know who did it because the list of candidates is pretty fecking long. However, the bit about the apple makes no sense whatsoever, and it definitely felt like you caught her in a lie at the end. I don’t know who put her up to that, or if she came up with it on her own, but she definitely wanted to trip you up or get you to come running to whichever syndicate member she thinks you’re with.” He flashes me a bright smile.

“What do we do about that?”

His smile drops as he thinks about my question. “I need to talk to the others and see if they’ve heard anything, but I know it wasn’t us, Carrie.”

“Are you waiting your turn?”

He says nothing. He simply stares at me.

That’s as good as saying yes. I don’t know how I feel about that. I’m conflicted since part of me is still a law enforcement officer, and the other part of me is—I don’t know what the fuck I am to Shane.

Maybe a girlfriend? I don’t know.

My mind isn’t quite sure how to fill in that blank, but whatever I am, it’s more than just an acquaintance. It makes me think he’d retaliate on my behalf. If not for me alone, then because Bartlomiej went after something that’s his.

The machismo in syndicates is real. They have to constantly one-up each other, and if Bartlomiej threatened Shane, he has to react. It makes me wonder if another syndicate already feels that way about Bartlomiej and just acted on it.

Not necessarily about a woman, but because he wronged them. If it’s the bratva, it must go beyond just fucking up the deal between him and the Russians, then between him and the Armenians. It’s all so fucking complicated. You practically need a map to draw out the spider webs of how the syndicates connect. Like, for a long time, the Italians and the Irish got along, but for just as much time, they’ve been rivals. Right now, I’m uncertain how things stand.

“Do you need to call them now or go over there?”

“It would be best if I called. I’m not leaving you here, and I don’t want to take you out into the open, especially not after what we just learned. I need to confirm the attack happened before I believe what Angela said. I have a sneaking suspicion something went wrong, but it was nothing like what she described. Let me figure out what’s happening, and then we can go from there. If somebody saw you with Bartlomiej or figured out you were involved with him, and you weren’t with him during the attack, then you’re not only still Bartlomiej’s target, but you’re also possibly somebody else’s too.”

That does nothing to set my mind at ease, but I know Shane’s right. I sit and stare at the phone in my hand, and I wonder what I should do next.

“Shane, do you think I should dump this burner and start using a different one to keep them from being able to call me?”

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary yet. It doesn’t have GPS on, so between that and the jammers here at the house, they can’t trace you. You’re safe from that point of view. Nobody’s getting in here unless I say they can, so I’m not worried about that either. But the moment we leave the house, it opens us up to an attack. We don’t need to make ourselves vulnerable for no reason.”

“All right, do you still want to watch a movie?” I offer him a tentative smile as I suggest we try to make things as normal as possible.

“We can, but let me call my family first. I need to take this in my office. I don’t know what else might come up. Okay?”

“Yeah, I understand.”

He walks away, and I’m left looking at the TV screen. I don’t know how long all of this will take, so I pull up a TV show I’ve seen every episode of. It doesn’t matter how many times I watch Wings , I still love it. It’s a classic to me. I’ve gone through all the seasons several times, so it’s a mindless way to keep me company right now.

I can hear murmurs from Shane’s office, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. There’s more than just his voice, so he must have it on speakerphone. Is he doing something else while he’s on the phone, so he doesn’t want to cradle it against his ear?

The temptation to find out what he’s saying is overwhelming. I feel compelled to know because I don’t enjoy feeling so helpless right now. Even though I trust Shane, and I want to believe he’d tell me at least some of what is going on, I don’t enjoy feeling this out of control. Knowing he’s helping should be enough. It was a while ago, but Angela’s call shook me more than I realized.

I let temptation get the better of me. I know I shouldn’t do this, but I go ahead and creep toward Shane’s office. The door’s closed. Clearly a sign I’m not invited. I don’t quite put my ear to the door. I’m not that bad. But then, I don’t have to. I can hear the voices from inside. They’re muffled, but I can still make out what the men are saying.

If Shane wanted me to hear this conversation, then I’d be part of it.

My conscience screams this is wrong. Amazing how I’ve recently learned to ignore it so easily. I don’t know who’s who on the call besides Shane.

It’s Shane who’s speaking now, so his words are easy to catch. “I don’t give a rat’s flying fecking arse what happened to them in Boston. I want them at the station now. I’ll go tonight once I’m sure Carrie’s safe here and settled in. When I show up, they better be stripped to their pasty arse skin and hanging by a hook ready for me. Rough them up a little if that’s what it takes to get them there, but leave them alive enough for me to work them over and get my pound of flesh.”

I think it’s Dillan who speaks next. “And if they’re already pretty fecked-up from whatever happened?”

“Feed them and water them and get them back to being conscious because I want them to be awake when I walk in. I want them to know there are consequences for touching my woman.”

“Your woman?” This is an unfamiliar voice.

“Yes, Finn, my woman. And don’t act like you’ve never called your wife that before.”

“Yeah, but I thought Carrie could?—”

“Carys.” He interrupts his brother and is adamant about correcting him.

It’s nice to know he wants that nickname to remain private just between the two of us. It makes me wish his name was long enough to shorten. Maybe I should find out what his middle name is.

“All right, calm your arse down. I thought Carys didn’t like you.”

“We’ve come a long way now, haven’t we?” Shane’s tone has a bite to it.

Now, it’s a third guy. “We’re just trying to understand. That’s all. The last time we heard anything about this, you wanted to intervene. Before that, it was to investigate a little more. Then you’re chasing after her and disappearing into a bedroom with her. Now, you’ve got her at your place, and you’re speaking as though you’re in a relationship together.”

Lord, there’s a lot of them. If only I knew which voice belonged to which.

“You know she wouldn’t be at my house if she and I weren’t. You saw how I reacted to Misha’s call. You saw us holding hands and how I sat with my arm around her in Dillan’s office. There’s something between us, and I think it’s the same as each one of you has with your wife.”

That makes my eyebrows shoot straight up. I’m not sure how I feel about this. Wife? Is that where he thinks this is going? Marriage? Two-point-five kids and a picket fence? I glance toward his front door. There’s no picket fence out there.

Instead, there’s a tall brick wall with wrought-iron gates and spikes on the top all the way around. But this house certainly could accommodate us and be a yuppie dream house. I glance toward the stairs.

Could I picture having a family with him? Could I picture kids running up and down the stairs? It’s actually shockingly easy for me to do just that. I force myself out of my daydream and back to the conversation.

“What can you tell me about the attack? Have you heard anything, Dillan?”

“No.”

“What about you, Sean?”

“I’ve got feelers out all over the place, but nothing’s happening. I’ve checked the taps we have on Bartlomiej and Jacek. We’re not getting anything more than usual out of them. I checked all the emails. I included the secure ones, but there’s still nothing there. Nobody’s claiming any of this.”

“Are you positive it happened?” Shane’s skepticism matches mine.

“As positive as I can be, since the news came from one of Carys’s handlers, and you no longer trust her.”

“Hold on, I’ve got something coming in. Let me read this text really fast.”

I don’t know whose voice that is, so, hopefully, Shane says their name.

“What’s going on, Cor?” That means it’s Cormac.

I wish I knew these voices better by now, but then again, it wouldn’t be an issue if I weren’t eavesdropping.

“I’m getting a text from Marek.”

Marek Nowakowski? He’s Bartlomiej and Jacek’s cousin. He was Tymoteusz’s brother. What the fuck?

“He just said there wasn’t an actual attack, per se, but whoever did it, boxed Bartlomiej in, pulled him from his SUV, and stole the cars from him and his men. Nobody roughed him up, but they left him stranded on the side of the road with some old arse jalopy and dangled the keys in front of Bartlomiej before slashing all four tires. They truly left him stranded with a giant ‘fuck you’ to go along with it.”

“Who was it?” That was Shane, so at least I can follow some of the conversation now.

“Looks like Bartlomiej was doing some deal with the Boston Cosa Nostra and didn’t get Salvatore’s permission. Carmine and Gabe went up there to take care of it. I expected it to be Maks or Aleks, but my informant tells me it was Cosa Nostra .”

I lean my shoulder against the wall and tilt my head against it as I try to sort through what I’m hearing. A fraction of what Angela said is true. Something happened, and the Poles were the target, but the facts are nothing like what she said. I can’t believe the intel was that wrong that she would fuck up that many details. She was testing me to see if I would contradict her or whether I would find out the truth and bring it back to her.

This line of work is about manipulation all the time, but you don’t expect it from within your own team. The people who keep you safe when your life is on the line. I’m going to have to dig more to figure out what the deal is with work. And the only way to do that is to ask Shane for help because I no longer have those resources I can trust. Even then, I would have always been skeptical about digging into colleagues. I’ve never trusted anybody not in the field with me. They don’t have the same vested interest in the investigation or my safety. Now it’s a kick in the goddamn balls—if I had them—to find out the people who were supposed to have a vested interest in me living don’t, or they’re trying to fuck me over.

And I realize my duplicity is somewhat at fault. However, I don’t think there’s any proof of it. It’s all speculation at this point. They’re testing me, which also would be fine and understandable if it weren’t my life at risk. That’s the kicker for me.

Don’t trust me. Test me. Question me. Whatever.

But don’t do it in a way that endangers me.

I pull myself out of my own thoughts and back to the conversation when Shane’s voice permeates my fog of war.

“Who was Bartlomiej doing the deal with? Which one of the Cosa Nostra thought to strike out on their own without Salvatore finding out?”

“Vicenzo Girgenti.”

I recognize this voice as Dillan’s. He responds to Shane, and the disgust is evident with every word.

“He’s trying to one-up Salvatore and prove Boston’s still a contender for East Coast power among any of the syndicates, but especially the Cosa Nostra .”

“And he’s a fucking fool.” That quip comes from Finn.

Cormac speaks up with news that’s useful. “I’ve got more texts coming in right now. It looks like Bartlomiej’s headed back to his plane without completing the deal. He’s still out whatever product he was going to buy from the bratva, which means he’s still out the product he was going to sell the Armenians. Now whatever deal he had going with the Cosa Nostra just went to shite. He’s certainly not having a pleasant month. It’s a good thing you got Carys out while you could. I can only imagine his temper right now, and he’s going to unleash Jacek on the world, so he doesn’t have to get his hands dirty.”

There’s a lull for a moment. Then Shane speaks up again.

“I still want him at the station. The moment he returns, have some guys at the airport scoop him up. I don’t want Salvatore or Maks getting a chance at him before I do.”

I recognize Sean’s voice when he asks his twin a question. “Do we let Salvatore and Maks know why you get priority? They’re going to find out about Carys eventually, if they haven’t already. They’d understand and give him to you if we did.”

“No, I’m not ready to put Carys in the center of anybody’s radar until we know what they know about her already. It’s not worth bringing attention to her yet.”

What the fuck does that mean? It’s not worth bringing attention to me. As in, he doesn’t see me sticking around that long?

He obviously thinks I’m worth some protection, or I wouldn’t be here. But he wants to keep me a secret because I’m not worth the effort? I know I could interpret that a couple other ways, but it still stings if that’s the case. I thought I already meant more to him than that.

If I don’t, then why am I risking my job?

You’re being overly sensitive, Carys.

I’m certain he means it’s not worth endangering me by having the bratva or Cosa Nostra examine me too closely. That’s the reasonable explanation. That’s what I’m going with.

“If he’s headed back, then it’ll only be a couple hours before he gets here, assuming his plane’s refueled and ready to go quickly, and he’s not sticking around for anything else.”

That voice sounded a lot like Cormac, but not exactly. Maybe it’s Seamus. He’s been quiet the entire time. I wonder what his mountainous cousin thinks about all this.

If I were part of the conversation, I’d be able to ask, but I’m not, so I can’t. There’s another lull while I think everybody contemplates what’s going on.

“I’ll send Joey to round him up with some other guys.”

“Thanks, Finn, but I’d rather it not be Joey. I don’t want to put him in the line of fire right now because Bartlomiej’s already going to be more pissed off than a shaken hive. I’d rather it be someone we know can get the job done but isn’t as valuable as Joey.”

Holy fuck. Shane means someone who’s expendable. I really just listened to him say he doesn’t care if somebody dies. Not true. He cares if Joey does, but it means they have men they don’t care about. That’s something to work my mind around, even though I’ve felt similarly as far as CIs are concerned. I’ve just never been so blasé about it. It’s always made me think twice before putting them in danger. Shane says it as though he’s ordering orange juice with breakfast.

This is part of the man I know he doesn’t want me to see. This is all the more reason he took this call inside his office, where he wanted to keep me away from it. I don’t know what to do because a tiny part of my conscience is still niggling at that, but he’s also doing all of this—or at least partly—for my sake. I can’t ignore he’s putting my life ahead of somebody else’s, so he can’t be entirely detached from me.

I guess he really wants to protect me by not putting me on the other syndicate’s radar.

“Sean, any hits on the Colombians? Are they blissfully ignorant, or are they watching from the sidelines?”

Shane turns his questions toward his brother, and it’s the same thing I just wondered. I hadn’t thought about the Cartel at first, but now I wonder why I haven’t heard their names in this at all yet.

“Enrique seems preoccupied with some stuff right now, but I haven’t figured out what yet. He’s been laying low lately, and I don’t think Pablo’s interested. He has the shite with the Ecuadorians and Brazilians down there to deal with. Some issues with supply chain management.”

I hear laughter at that comment. I’m not sure what the insider part of that is, but clearly the Colombians aren’t getting all the ingredients they need for their drug production. That ought to pique my interest, but I can’t say that it does. I’m actually surprisingly indifferent to it right now.

It’s hardly my priority to figure out the next syndicate to stake out. Normally, this would be something I’d tell my bosses right away. However, I’m not feeling very forthcoming with them right now. I’m tucking that little nugget away for a rainy day. It might be my ticket to freedom from the agency at some point, so I won’t give it up yet.

“I just texted Sully and told him to get three guys together to pick up Bartlomiej and Jacek for you.”

“Thanks, Dill. Sully’s a good one to use. He’s smart enough to keep his head on his shoulders, but the only men he can get are ones we won’t miss.”

“That’s why I picked him. Shane, we’ll deal with all of this. We’ll make sure Bartlomiej’s not a part of your woman’s life ever again.”

“I could get used to the sound of all of that. Carrie not being in danger, and Carrie being my woman.”

I hear another round of chuckles as some good-natured teasing happens. But because of that, I don’t notice the voices getting a little closer until Shane opens the door and finds me standing right there.

“I gotta go.”

“But—”

“Gotta go.”

Shane snaps at his family before I see him tap his phone screen. He stares at me. Shock and anger clearly radiate from him.

I’ve really fucked it up now because I don’t know how I’m going to back myself out of this. I remain quiet because anything I say will be a lie, and he’ll know. That’ll only make it worse.

“How long have you been standing there, Carys?”

That’s like a knife through my heart. Hearing him use my full name feels so distant. It puts me in my place, and it reminds me I’m with a mobster who can switch on a dime. I’m not scared of Shane physically. But now I’m scared I’ve ruined everything. I don’t think he’d pull my protection. However, I’m on my own now, and that makes me feel defensive rather than ashamed.”

“I was listening. You know that. I heard pretty much everything.”

“Why?”

I’m not convinced he genuinely wants the answer to that. It’s just a natural question to ask next.

“Because all of this involves my life, Shane. I have a right to know everything that’s going on.”

“No, you don’t. You didn’t know where that conversation was headed. There’s so much more you could’ve heard you never should have that would put you in more danger than you could possibly fathom. It’s bad enough you just heard what you did. None of that was for your ears.”

“You’re worried I’m going to turn state’s evidence for hearing you commission a murder.”

I should have kept that to myself. His expression entirely shuts off, and it’s like looking at a marble statue chiseled by one of the master Renaissance sculptors. Absolute perfection, but with no emotion. Instead of leaving well enough alone, I catapult us back to that adversarial dynamic we started with.

“I never said I would do that. Does it mean I’m going to swim with the fishes now?”

That still gets no reaction from him. That’s scarier than anything else. I have an inkling of what men about to die feel when Shane is like this. I still don’t fear for my safety, but I certainly am not picturing a long and happy lifetime together anymore.

“Carys—”

“Don’t call me that. You never called me that.”

“Oh, you’re lucky your full name is all I’m calling you right now. I trusted you to stay in the living room, or even make yourself another snack, or go up to the bedroom, or any number of things. You’ve shown me the moment you’re out of my sight, I can’t trust you.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you would’ve told me what that conversation was about.”

“The part’s pertinent to you, I would have.”

“You were going to tell me you’d have men round up Bartlomiej to take him to wherever this station place is? You were going to share that with me? I don’t believe that for a second.”

“I was going to tell you I had a way to make sure he could never be a threat to you again. You would have understood what that meant without me giving details. Now you know information someone could force from you. Information they could compel you to testify.”

I know that’s all the truth. It lurked in the back of my mind.

“Shane, it will never come to that. I would never give you or your family up, and that’s why you should have trusted me.”

“Maybe. But I should still be entitled to private conversations without worrying you’re eavesdropping or believing you deserve to know every nook and cranny of the truth. You should trust me better, Carrie.”

“We’re not there yet.”

“And it’s obvious we won’t get there.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you have a very large resort, and you’re the only guest. Make yourself at home, Carrie . Since you don’t have your purse or any of your belongings, I don’t have to worry about you using a lock picking set to get into my office. Otherwise, you have the run of the house. I’ll make sure there’s plenty of food delivered to you. Whatever you want.”

“Wait, what? You make it sound as though you won’t be here.”

“I won’t. Obviously, you know what I’m up to. As you know, I have other plans. I might be away for a while. I’ll see you when I see you.”

“What the hell does that mean, Shane? You’re just leaving me here alone in this house?”

“Why not? I’m usually here alone. It’s peaceful with nobody else here.”

That stings, and he knows it. He said it to hurt me, and I deserve it.

“Are you leaving right this minute?”

“No, I don’t need to. But like I said, you have the run of the house. You can do as you please. There’s a pool in the backyard. I won’t disturb you.”

“Shane, this conversation isn’t over.”

“Oh, yes, it is because there’s not a single thing more I can say to you that won’t be hurtful in some way or another. And that’s not my goal.”

His words say nothing more, but his expression makes up for it. He clearly believes what I did was intentionally hurtful. It wasn’t, but it’s certainly the fallout. He turns around and goes back into his office.

It would be easier if he slammed the door in my face. But it closes with barely a sound until I hear him turn the lock. I’m left standing in the hallway with no one to blame but myself.