CROW (Boston Underworld Book 1) (31 page)

“No, Mack.” He slaps me on the ass and makes me yelp. “Ye won’t be having a goddamn donut for dinner. Now get your arse into the car.”

“Fine,” I grumble.

The entirety of the car ride is spent giving Lachlan the silent treatment. This is what happens when he deprives me of sugar. He’s nervous about something again, evident by the tapping of his fingers against his leg, but I don’t bother asking. I know better than that by now.

Expecting the Back Bay again or something equally fancy, my paranoia takes a strangle hold on me as we move towards some of my old stomping grounds in Southie. I turn my attention to Lach, who isn’t giving anything away. He doesn’t seem like he’s in on the big secret, but still, this whole situation doesn’t bode well for me.

When he pulls up to a tavern… one that I know very well, I’m practically hyperventilating.

“What are we doing here?” I ask.

“C’mon.”

He gets out and walks over to open my door, but I’m glued to my seat. Lachlan takes my hand and pulls me up anyway. Everything around us is shrouded in fog as he opens the door and we step inside.

I don’t have to look across the room at the table in the corner. I already know she’s here.

“Lach…” I protest weakly. “I don’t like this place. Can’t we just…”

My words are cut off when Scarlett walks up to us and gives me a mischievous smile. God damn her. God fucking damn her. What the fuck? I told her not to get involved in this. I told her.

“Hey babe,” she greets me with a wink before holding her hand out to Lachlan.

I watch Lach carefully, trying to decipher every hidden emotion in his eyes. He doesn’t look hostile, but God knows that could change at any moment. I’ve lied to him, and somehow he’s managed to get a hold of Scarlett and bring her here. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

It’s one thing to screw with my own life, but I didn’t want Scarlett in this. I can’t protect her.

“How did you…”

“Her number was in your phone,” Lach explains without remorse.

Bastard.

“C’mon over to my spot.” Scarlett gestures to the table. “I’ve ordered for us already.”

“Have ye?” Lachlan asks.

“There’s only one thing you eat when you come here,” Scarlett and I say in unison.

Lach nods and puts his hand on my lower back as we walk to the table. We sit down, and I slam the shot of Patron Scarlett ordered for me in one gulp. I’m staring daggers at her, but it doesn’t bother her in the least.

“So, Lachlan,” she feigns ignorance. “You’re the reason Mack hasn’t been coming around lately.”

Oh sheesh. She’s really making a big production out of this. I gesture to the waitress for another round.

“Seems that way,” he says. “I thought it was time we met. Though I must say ye look a little young to be her grandmother.”

Scarlett laughs.

Then she leans forward on her elbows, and something passes over her face. Something I haven’t seen in all the years I’ve known her except maybe once. And that was when she helped me fight off the men in the alley that fateful night.

“She’s a good girl,” Scarlett tells him. “If any harm ever comes to her, you’ll have to contend with me.”

“Scarlett…” I protest.

She holds her hand up and ignores me. “Now I may not look like much. But Mack doesn’t either. And yet, we both know that isn’t true. Sometimes, people can surprise you.”

Her voice is full of threat, and it would be absolutely frigging adorable if this were any other normal guy I was dating. But I can see the wheels spinning in Lachlan’s head. He knows as well as I do she’s no threat to him. Still, I don’t know what to expect.

So when he gives her a nod and doesn’t even crack a smile or hold an ounce of arrogance in his features, I squeeze his hand under the table in thanks.

“I can respect that,” Lach says.

And then he turns to me and brushes my hair back over my shoulders, staring at me with an expression of pride and dare I say… happiness.

“I’ve no intentions of hurting, Mack,” he says softly. “If anything, I’m sure it will be the other way around.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Mackenzie

T
he whole way to the club, I’m a nervous wreck. I can’t stop thinking about Scarlett. If things go south now, what’s going to happen to her?

It makes me sick with worry. But there’s something else there too. There’s guilt roiling around, eating me up inside. Lach’s words keep echoing through my head. He knows I’m going to hurt him. Maybe he can see more than I gave him credit for. Maybe he knows it’s only a matter of time until I screw him over.

He reaches over and pulls my mangled lip from between my teeth and then puts his hand on my knee possessively, sliding it up my thigh.

“Tell me what’s bothering you,” he says. “Why didn’t ye want me to meet her?”

“Because,” I scoff. “I don’t want her involved in this world.”

His grip tightens on my leg. “Do ye always think the worst of me?”

I cringe. It can’t be denied. In my head, I’ve accused him of trafficking women. Being involved in Tal’s disappearance somehow. And not coming for me if Cara hadn’t been there with me. But when I look at him now, calm and relaxed and possessive, I know those things aren’t true.

So why am I still doing this?

I could give it all up. Find another way. Open up to Lach and hope that I’m right about him. But there are too many variables in those options. Things that could go wrong or set me back completely. And right now, the file that Scarlett slipped into my handbag tonight is burning a hole on the floorboards. I have to see what’s inside of it. I have to believe that I’m doing the right thing. I need some sort of vindication to continue down this path.

Lachlan pulls up to the club and turns off the car. And then he swivels in his seat and reaches over to give me a tender kiss. God, I am so fucked.

“Ye needn’t worry yourself over Scarlett,” he says. “No harm will come her way.”

I don’t answer, so he reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Do ye believe me?”

“I do,” I whisper. “But just swear it, please. Give me your word. You guys are big on that, right? Giving your word?”

Lachlan doesn’t look content that I’m still doubting him, but he nods anyway. “Ye have my word, sweetheart.”

“No matter what happens,” I insist. “You won’t hurt her. She has nothing to do with me or my life or the choices I make.”

“Is that the kind of man ye think I am?” he asks.

His disappointment with me penetrates right through my protective shield.

“I don’t want to,” I half laugh and half cry.

Oh, Jesus. Those are real tears. I really am crying. What the hell?

Lachlan looks just as confused as I am.

“I know you’re a good person, Lach. I see that when I’m with you every day. I feel safe when you’re near, and I’ve never felt that with anyone. But then I think about what you do and who you work for. Some things I’m okay with. Like last night… what you had to do, I wanted you to do it. It’s confusing the way that I feel. I don’t really understand it myself. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, and I want to tell you…”

His phone rings, and he hits ignore, keeping his attention focused on me.

“Tell me what, sweetheart?”

“I want to tell you…”

His phone rings again.

“Goddammit,” he curses. “Just one second, love.”

He answers and makes short clipped responses that grow louder and more frustrated by the time the call ends two minutes later.

“Christ,” he mutters. “I want you to tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it is.”

I want to tell him too. But right now, he’s stressed about something else, and it isn’t the time.

“Tonight,” I say. “We’ll talk about it tonight. I know you have to go.”

He sweeps his palm over my cheek and down my throat and kisses me again before pulling away. A moment later, Ronan appears outside the car door.

“He’ll take ye inside,” Lach says. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Okay.” I give his hand a squeeze. “I guess I’ll see you later then.”

He smiles. “Always, sweetheart.”

***

The moment Ronan and I are inside, I excuse myself to the restroom.

After checking that all of the other stalls are empty, I scurry inside and tear the file out of my handbag. I open it up and find a shit load of pictures and notes.

There are photos of Donovan going to and from the club, his house which turns out to be a sad looking little duplex, and a few of his usual haunts. It doesn’t surprise me that he likes to hang out at a seedy dive bar, or a Russian owned brothel. But what does surprise me is seeing him walking in and out of it with Mandy.

What the hell would she be doing at a brothel with him and do I even want to know?

I scour through the rest of the photos, finding the answer to that shortly. It turns out the brothel isn’t the only place they like to hang out. There are photos of them in back alleys, with Donovan’s pants around his ankles and her head bobbing between his legs.

Gross.

I start to skip over them, thinking them all to be the same, but then something catches my eye. In one of the photos, Donovan walks into the brothel with Mandy, but it’s one of the Russians who leaves with her. Double gross.

Is she ping ponging between them? And if so why did my guy think it was important for me to know this. I scan the corresponding notes and get his only explanation.

I had a hunch. I followed it.

Sure enough, the next set of photos are of Mandy and the Russian. It seems she’s been meeting with both men all over town. Sometimes two or three times a day.

It’s obvious what they’re doing by the photographs, but something about this still doesn’t feel right. Even putting aside the fact that I don’t like Mandy, I can’t understand why any woman would consider firsts with those two, let alone seconds. Willingly from what it appears. Unless they are blackmailing her somehow.

Could that be it?

Despite my feelings about her, Mandy is pretty. The type of woman most guys would find desirable. I highly doubt she has any trouble getting male attention. Well, except from Lachlan, maybe. But Donny and this Russian dude are far from the hottest guys on the planet, and Mandy seems like the shallow type. I can’t figure out what she would see in these two.

I look through the photos again and frown. There has to be something I’m missing here. Which means I’m going to have to do something I really don’t want to do. I need to talk to Mandy.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Mackenzie

I
find Mandy in the dressing room getting ready for her dance set. She’s lining her eyes with liquid liner when I sit down beside her and clear my throat.

“What do you want?” she wrinkles her nose.

I muster up a small smile for her. Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard to me, but still. If she’s in trouble, I could help her. And I would. Regardless of my feelings towards her.

“Look, Mandy, I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”

She screws the cap back onto her eyeliner and then turns her attention towards me. Her eyes are full of suspicion, but I forge on anyway.

“I just wanted to wipe the slate clean,” I tell her. “I thought maybe we could get to know each other a little.”

She laughs, and it comes out a little crazy. And then she crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, sizing me up.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she asks. “Do you actually think that sweet little act is going to work on me?”

Okay, so apparently nice isn’t the route to go here. I shrug and try a different tack. It’s not like I could make Donovan hate me any more than he already does anyway.

“Look, I just know that Donny has been bothering some of the other girls, and I thought maybe he was bothering you too.”

“And what are you gonna’ do about it if he is?” she snarls. “Beat him up for me?”

I don’t answer because the hatred in her voice catches me off guard. I knew she didn’t like me, but this is something else altogether. The way she’s looking at me right now, it’s like she actually wishes I was dead. I just can’t wrap my head around it. I’ve done nothing to this girl. I know she wanted Lachlan, but this isn’t jealousy. It’s something personal.