Mob Bride (The O’Rourke Brotherhood #5)

Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Carrie

I stare at Cormac’s phone, unsure what possessed me to send that text. But I don’t regret it, and I won’t retract the offer.

“Carys?”

I glance up at Cormac, who’s utterly stunned.

“You told me they’d force us to testify against each other. That they’ll make it impossible for us to avoid either incriminating ourselves or each other. If either of us pleads the fifth, we’re just turning the attention to the other. I won’t do that, and I know Shane won’t accept anything happening to me. This is the only way.”

I’m whispering furtively to him now that we’re in an interrogation room alone. I’ve been in here enough times to know they have the entire place bugged. Even when it appears like the camera in the far-left corner of the room is off, we’re—they’re—still recording shit. They don’t believe Cormac’s my attorney, so they’ll claim there’s no attorney-client privileged information. But they’re scared enough they haven’t kept Cormac from remaining with me.

I maneuvered us, so we’re facing the two-way mirror. Let them know we’re talking. As long as they can’t see his phone screen and can’t hear us, I couldn’t give two shits that they can see our mouths moving. Let them wonder what we’re discussing.

“He won’t agree while you’re under duress.”

Shane

It’s me Carrie but D’s typing. I won’t trap you. Now’s not the time to decide.

“See.”

Cormac may as well scream, “I told you so.” But I’m not interested in hearing it. I type out another text instead.

Me

It’ll protect both of us. They can’t compel us to testify against each other. There’s a two-day wait after getting a license in NY and NJ but none in CT. From here to Greenwich takes 45 mins to an hr. We can get married as soon as the courthouse opens.

I check the clock on Cormac’s phone. It’s nearly five a.m. The courthouse opens in three hours. I know we can fill out the marriage application online because I had a friend in college who eloped with her high school boyfriend while he was on leave from the Merchant Marine. The marriage lasted about as long as his leave—three days. But they didn’t divorce for another three years.

I never planned to get divorced, but I will if it means marrying Shane now keeps him safe.

Shane

There has to be another way. I’m not marrying you to keep me out of prison.

Me

Then marry me to keep me out of prison. I don’t care who keeps who out as long as neither of us goes in.

My palms grow clammy as I wait for his response. Is he discussing this with his family? Does he wish Cormac was part of the conversation? His displeasure echoes in the room even though he’s said nothing since the ominous “see.”

Shane

What about your parents? What if they can’t be there?

Me

They’ll understand. Yours?

Shane

They’d understand too. But

But what?

I wait.

I tap the screen to see the clock again because it’s been long enough for it to dim.

Me

Shane?

Dillan

Carys it’s Dillan. They’re taking him to be fingerprinted

Me

Then what? Are they taking him to central booking?

Dillan

We don’t know yet maybe

Me

You can’t let that happen.

Dillan

We’ll take care of him. Let Cor take care of you. Listen to him so Shane doesn’t worry.

I look at Cormac, who’s reading along with me as the texts come in.

Me

Tell Shane I’m serious. We can be in CT from here in an hour. Once we’re both cut loose, we go.

Dillan

I’ll see what he says

I hand the phone back to Cormac, who rests it screen down on his thigh. I noticed he doesn’t have a wedding ring when we were at Shane’s yesterday. I saw Sean’s, Finn’s, and Dillan’s then and Seamus’s today. I’m certain they don’t have marriages of convenience to keep their wives out of jail. I’m certain they didn’t do it to keep themselves out.

It’ll devastate my parents to miss my wedding and to learn I married Shane for any reason but love. My guess is his parents’ll feel the same. But I don’t give a shit if it protects him. We can divorce or even get it annulled if he wants.

He wants. Not if I want.

I don’t know what the fuck I want short of getting away from here. Am I so eager to escape I’m willing to commit to marrying someone I don’t love?

You’re practically in love with him.

Practically doesn’t mean I am.

But you could be.

Maybe one day. We can’t wait around to see if we fall in love. We need to buy ourselves enough time to see if we don’t fall in love.

“Cormac, what will happen to him if they book him and take him to jail? Will there be people there who want to hurt him?”

“Yes.”

Fuck.

“Are you always so blunt?”

“No. I just watched a woman text my cousin a marriage proposal, so she can stay out of prison and hopefully keep him out too. That cousin’s getting fingerprinted, so the feds can put him in jail for at least two days. If they game the system, they can keep him there indefinitely. I’m trying to work out how to get you out if your boss sends you there, after all. I’m a bit short on words to spare right now.”

He’s frustrated, but he’s not mean.

“Cormac, you know I didn’t propose just to keep myself out of prison, right? I’m terrified some rival will be there and shank him within five minutes of them tossing him into gen pop.”

“And he’s terrified of the same thing for you. The difference is he knows what to look for and will fight dirty. You might fight dirty, but it’ll be too late. I have to keep you out of jail, or Shane’s likely to die suicide by cop because he won’t stop until they kill him, or he gets to you.”

“Don’t say that.” With each word I rasp, I feel like Cormac knocks the air out of me.

“You’re not na?ve, Carys. You know Shane well enough to consider spending your life with him.”

“We can always get a divorce if he doesn’t want to stay married to me.”

Cormac assesses me, and I feel like I’ve failed whatever silent test he gave me.

“No one in the O’Rourke family—not on either side—has gotten divorced. And it’s not because of the bullshit you’ve seen our faces, now you have to die. Couples with arranged marriages stayed together because of duty. But my parents and aunts and uncles married because they can’t fathom a day without their partner. Dillan, Finn, Sean, and Seamus married their wives for the same reason. Shane deserves that, too. He deserves a marriage meant to last with his soulmate. Not some quickie that can be undone in Reno in less time than it takes to get married.”

“And how’s he supposed to have that when someone knifes him in the back in prison? He wants you to protect me. He trusts you to. I need you to trust I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him. I don’t give a shit whether you or anyone else approves. You can judge me after we keep him out of Sing Sing.”

That prison’s super-max and not somewhere most inmates ever leave alive. If they prosecute me, and I wind up convicted, I’ll be headed to Bedford Hills. It’s the maximum-security prison for women in New York State. I’m not eager for a life sentence, but I stand a better chance for survival than Shane does in Sing Sing.

Cormac watches me until he nods. Something about what I said or how I said it pacifies him.

“If he says yes, it won’t be?—”

He doesn’t finish because the door swings open. My old handler, Johnny, walks in. It shocks me to see him with a shit-eating grin. We didn’t always agree, but I thought we got along better than I got along with Steve. Steve was always nice to my face, but I knew he was an asshole behind my back. I thought what I saw was what I got with Johnny.

“I smell fresh fish.” He sniffs dramatically, and I want to punch him. I’m not some new inmate.

“Who’re you?” Cormac’s hackles are up, and it makes Johnny miss a step.

“Mr. O’Rourke, I’m Special Agent Johnny Ramirez.”

Cormac grins, and it chills me to the bone. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. How’s your dear old dad these days? Still making little rocks out of big rocks?”

My eyes widen. I didn’t know Johnny’s dad was in prison. I glance between the two, and Cormac smirks.

“Didn’t tell your agent your daddy’s in the pen for selling narcotics and insider trading? I should have recognized you the minute you walked in. You look like your dad.”

“What?” I don’t understand what’s happening.

“Oh, yeah. Johnny’s dad turned state’s witness against the Diazes about seven years ago. Maybe you can answer a question my family’s had since then. Who’ve you been sucking off to keep your job? After all the shite they found on your dad, your knees must have callouses to have kept your job.”

“Johnny, you told me your dad died. You went to his funeral.”

“He went to his sentencing. His dad narced on the Diazes. He’s only alive because he’s a little bitch and reports everything to the warden. The warden protects him, but he hasn’t always done such a good job, has he, Johnny? It’s been at least a year since he was last stabbed. That’s a long time to go without a reminder you don’t turn on your own.”

Cormac unlocks his phone and hits his contacts. He puts the call on speaker.

Oh, hell.

“ Enrique, que pasa, amigo ?” Enrique, what’s happening, friend?

“What the fuck do you want, Cor? I’m busy.”

“Yeah, I heard. Should I be saying felicidadas soon?”

“I don’t need nor want your congratulations. What do you want?”

“Guess who I’m sitting in front of.” He holds the phone out to Johnny. “Speak.”

“Enrique.”

“ Hijo de puta. ?Qué co?o haces con Cormac O'Rourke? Me cago en —” Motherfucker. What the fuck are you doing with Cormac O’Rourke? I’ll fucking?—

“Enrique, you’re on speaker. I’m at the DEA office. Imagine my surprise when Johnny Ramirez just walked in.”

“What’re you doing there? They finally catch you and your miscreant relatives?”

“Someone’s after Shane’s girlfriend.”

“The DEA agent? What the fuck does she see in him, anyway?”

The jefe de jefes knows who I am? I might be sick.

I know what Shane’s family does. I obviously know what the bratva does since they were my marks. But Enrique Diaz controls any and everything coming in and out of Latin America that the O’Rourkes, Kutsenkos, and Mancinellis don’t. And those three families only have a sliver of the pie compared to Enrique. The mob, bratva, and Mafia have their producers and distributors in Latin America. They sell their shit in America and wherever else in the world they want. But for every one pot farm or coke lab they have, Enrique easily has four.

“She sees a nice Catholic boy who loves his mom.”

“The feds need a better vision plan then.”

The man grew up in Colombia but was educated in America. He has the best of both worlds. He’s better educated than just about anyone in organized crime who isn’t a member of the mob, bratva, or Mafia ruling families. I doubt there’s ever been a time when so many Ivy League and Top Tier educated men have run New York City’s underworld. Enrique’s one of them, but he also knows the fucking Amazon like it’s his backyard.

“Anyway, imagine my surprise to find Ramirez here. He was one of Shane’s girlfriend’s handlers. From the way he walked in here, I’d say he sold her out to someone. And that someone got her boxed in.”

“Are you suggesting that pedazo de mierda came running to me, hoping turning on a woman would dredge up some forgiveness from me?” Piece of shit.

Enrique and his five nephews have set up labs all over the place, so deep into the jungle, no one can find them without one of them taking them there. It also means no one leaves without one of those six men helping them. Apparently, Enrique pays them, feeds them, and houses them well. He protects all their families and makes sure their money makes it home to wives, parents, and kids. But they aren’t free to come and go.

They’re not slaves. More like indentured servants. They’re people who wronged Enrique or his family, and Enrique’s sentenced them to hard labor until he—or Alejandro—the nephew who’s his representative down there most of the time—says they can go free. I’ve heard you could fill every seat in Yankee Stadium with the bodies they have buried down there. I doubt that. It would mean they left evidence behind. Enrique Diaz is many things, but sloppy isn’t one of them.

“Maybe he wants you to forgive his papí , so he handed Shane’s girlfriend over to you.”

“Hardly. He knows he could give me all of Midas’s gold, and it wouldn’t be enough. This is news to me, Cormac.”

“Hmm.”

Doesn’t Cormac believe him? If I weren’t watching Cormac watching Johnny, I might believe Enrique. He sounds convincing. But Cormac obviously knows the man well.

“I don’t give a shit, Cor.”

I don’t get what just happened. What did one syllable mean?

“About those congratulations. Put our table near the chocolate fountain.”

“ Come mierda .” Eat shit.

“Is that what you’re putting in the fountain? No thanks. Put the Mancinellis there instead.”

What the fuck are they talking about? A quince ? As far as I know, there aren’t any girls turning fifteen in the Diaz family, so a quincea?era seems unlikely. The only reason I’ve heard about that gets them all together is wedding receptions.

“ Adiós, gilipollas .” Bye, asshole.

“ Vaya con dios, cucho .” Go with God, old man.

You’d almost think they were friends with how chummy their voices are. I know Cormac doesn’t mean cucho literally—hunchback. In slang, it means old man. It can be a term of endearment, but I don’t get the sense Cormac sees Enrique as family. I mean, I wouldn’t call the jefe de jefes that.

I observed Johnny the entire time Cormac was on the phone. The man is a shade of white I’ve only seen on corpses.

“You don’t look so great, Johnny.”

He forces his gaze away from Cormac to me when I speak. He comes out of his stupor as he stares at me.

“Carys, you’re so deep in the shit you’re going to come out the other side of the world.”

“Your concern warms my heart.” Jackass .

He got over his fear because now he’s being a smug asshole. Cormac clears his throat to remind Johnny the rope upon which he wobbles is fraying with each word. Cormac’s clearly not here to make friends.

“What do you want, Ramirez?”

“I came to check on Carys.”

“Liar. What do you want with my client?”

“Client? Carys, is this for real? Steve and Angela said you have an O’Rourke pretending to be your lawyer. He sounds serious.”

“Does Mr. O’Rourke look like he has a sense of humor?” Cormac looks like he eats puny federal agents for breakfast.

He crosses his arms, and his suit jacket strains across his shoulders and around his biceps. His baby face—and Seamus’s—bely how strong they are until you see moments like this when he looks like he’s about to Hulk out of his suit. Johnny sees it too. He’s sticking close to the door and doesn’t have the swagger he had when he entered.

I hear Cormac’s phone buzz. I glance toward him. I’m about to turn back to Johnny when he shows me the screen.

Dillan

It’s Shane. I’ll marry you.