THE CALLAHANS (A Mafia Romance): The Complete 5 Books Series (66 page)

Kyle

“I’m going home in a week,” Jack told me.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah. But the doctors have decided I should stay in bed for the first two weeks. Can you imagine, me stuck in the house, alone with Caroline?”

“You might discover you like it.”

“We can’t have sex. What else is there to do?”

I would have laughed if I hadn’t known that Jack was dead serious.

“Listen, thanks for calling Delaney. It was great having her here when I came out of surgery.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“She tells me that she and Sean are back for good.” He glanced over at the door as though he was looking to make sure no one was coming in. “She also told me, in confidence, that they’re engaged.”

“Really?” That was something Sean hadn’t bothered to tell anyone.

“They want to keep it quiet until all of this blows over.”

“If it does.” I shifted in my chair. “The word on the street is that we started the gun fight. The Italians are all riled up, ready for a fight.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve talked to Carmine. He’s pretty grateful to you for saving his ass.”

“It was in our best interest.”

“Yeah, well, he’s decided since we work so well together, we should do more of that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that we worked out a deal. We split our territories equally, they take a share in the gun trade, and we essentially work together.”

“Excuse me if I don’t look for the ‘but’ at the end of that sentence.”

“There is one, little but.” Jack glanced at the door again. “Carmine has a daughter. He thinks if one of our guys marries her, it would solidify our commitment to work together.”

“A daughter? Who’s the poor slob who has to marry her?”

“Well, he wanted you, but since you’re already married, I was able to save your ass. But then he found out that Ian’s still single…”

***

I couldn’t avoid it for the rest of my life. I paid for it; I had the right to go there, to live there.

I let myself into the loft a week after the shooting, dropping my keys in the dish where they belonged as loudly as I could to warn Amelia I was there. Colin told me that she’d refused to leave and I simply couldn’t face her. I couldn’t understand why she hadn’t taken the opportunity to leave that I’d handed her. The only thing I could think of was that she wanted the loft in our divorce or annulment or whatever.

I hadn’t even called my lawyer.

She was standing by the windows, the thin sweater she was wearing rendered almost see-through with the late afternoon sun shining through it. She didn’t turn as I came into the room…just continued to stand there.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“That’s a childish reason.”

She turned slowly, her pretty face paler than I recalled it.

“Then, how about this?” she asked. “I love you and I’m not ready to throw our marriage away.”

“You don’t even know me. Everything you know about me came from text messages from my brother, who was trying to use you to hurt me and my family.”

“But I think I’ve gotten to know you in the time we’ve been together.”

“A week? Not even that. Three, four days? Isn’t that more accurate?”

“Time doesn’t really matter when you meet that one person you know is the one you’re meant to be with.”

“You sound like one of those bohemian artists who lives back in Oregon.”

She didn’t say anything right away. She crossed her arms over her chest—which was great because I couldn’t take my eyes from her beautiful breasts—and studied me.

“You didn’t ask for this. I understand that. But I knew what I was getting into, and I’m not walking away from you until I know beyond any doubt that you don’t want me.”

“But you know, Amelia? A man like me isn’t capable of love.”

“Bullshit!”

The sound of that word coming from between her full lips nearly pushed me over. She was the one who complained about my language that first day, yet here she was cussing herself.

“When are you going to stop hiding behind your childhood, Kyle?”

Again, she caught me by surprise. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that you
are
capable of love. I see it every time you talk about Abigail or see you with your family. You love them.”

“That’s different.”

“How? How is that different?”

I shrugged. “It just is.”

She studied my face for a moment. Then she sighed, letting her arms fall lazily to her sides.

“I won’t leave you. I won’t walk away. If you want me gone, you’ll have to forcefully remove me.”

There was just something about the way she said it, the way she seemed so determined, that finally cut through and took root inside my head.

“You won’t leave.”

“No, I won’t.”

I slowly crossed over to her. “How do I know I can trust you? You married me under false pretenses.”

“That was before I knew you. Now…I would do it all over again, but I would make sure you were sober first.”

“You lied to me. You said that I charmed you into marriage, but it was really you who convinced me.”

“I did lie. But that’s over now. There won’t be any more lies.”

I touched her face, running the back of my hand over her cheek. “And when things get hard? When I yell at you because you’re the only one here and I need to vent? When I don’t come home because I’m doing something for Jack? When I get shot again, because I will probably get shot again.”

“We’ll deal with it. Abigail managed to make it work. I can, too.”

“Abigail was a saint.”

She nodded. “I know.”

I drew her into my arms. “You’ll never leave me?”

“Never.”

“Promise me.”

She groaned, pressing her lips against my neck. “I love you, Kyle. I’m never going to leave you. Never.”

I groaned too, pulling her so close to me that I might have suffocated her. But then she was kissing me, her lips pressed so hard against mine that I almost couldn’t believe her slight body could be capable of such a thing. I’d missed her more than I allowed myself to understand. But tasting her now, feeling her skin under my hands, there was no denying it.

I swung her up into my arms and carried her upstairs.

“I love you,” I whispered against her ear, as I laid her on our bed.

I’d never said those words before, not even to Abigail. It was easier than I’d expected it to be.

~~

Mia

“Daddy’s been shot. You have to come home.”

That’s all I heard. I know my sister kept talking after she said those words, but it was all I heard. I pushed the blankets off my legs and started to climb out of bed, but Spider grabbed my arm.

“Where you going, babe?”

“Boston.”

“What do you mean, Boston?” He sat up a little, his eyes still red from the party he’d returned from not more than an hour ago. “You can’t go to Boston now.”

“My dad’s in the hospital.”

“The old fart have a heart attack?”

I smacked his arm, jerking away from him. I was halfway across the room when he grabbed me around the waist, pulling me back toward the bed.

“Let me go, Spider!”

“You’re not going anywhere. You belong here…with me.”

“I’ve got to go home.”

“Just how do you think you’re going to get there? You’re not taking my car.”

“I’ll find a way.”

I tried to pull away from him again, but he was holding me too tight. I pushed at his wrists, but that only made him pull me even closer against his bare chest.

“Come on, Spider! You can’t just hold me here all night!”

“Let me come with you.”

“No. You know my dad doesn’t like you.”

“But you do.” He nuzzled my neck almost roughly. “Let me come with.”

But the thing was, I wasn’t sure how much I liked him anymore. When I left Boston, I thought I was head over heels in love. But, four months later, I was pretty sure I’d been wrong. Spider was possessive, controlling, and a real hot mess. He drank, I suspected he did drugs, and he refused to get a job that didn’t require carrying his guitar onto a stage. We never had any money, and half the time we had nothing to eat. It seemed Bohemian at first, sort of fun. Now it was just sad.

I pushed at his wrists again, catching him off guard. He let me go, and I snatched some clothes off the floor, searching through the mess for some sort of container to put them in. I had a nice duffle when I came out West with him, but I hadn’t seen it in weeks. I finally just shoved the clothes into a plastic grocery bag.

“I won’t let you leave,” Spider announced.

“You have no choice.”

“You want to bet?”

He grabbed my arm and smacked me hard across the face. That was a mistake.

I was Mia Rossi, daughter of Carmine Rossi. I knew how to defend myself.

I moved in close as he went for another smack, raising my knee and slamming it into his crotch. As he bent down to protect himself, I jammed my knee into his nose. I heard the crunch. He fell over, writhing in pain.

“Goodbye, Spider.”

Ian

She lay stretched out in the bed, uncovered by anything that might hamper my view of her beautiful body. She was tall and lithe, the kind of woman who graced the front cover of magazines like
Vogue
. She had long, blond hair that was brushed away from her face, delicate features, and green eyes that looked like jewels. Her curves were subtle, but feminine, her ass finer than Boucher’s
Girl Resting
. I could stand there and watch her all afternoon. Unfortunately, I had to get back to Boston.

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. With everything in chaos back home, it might be a while.”

“You know, if you moved up here, it wouldn’t be an issue.”

I inclined my head slightly to acknowledge her, aware that she was watching me from under the veil of her arm. This was a conversation we’d had quite often over the last six months. But it was one argument she was never going to win.

“My family needs me there. Maybe if things change…”

“You always say that. But we both know nothing’s going to change. They’re always going to need you for one thing or another.”

“Carrie—”

“Don’t ‘
Carrie
’ me. You know it’s true.”

She sat up, her small breasts pointing accusing fingers at me. My cock stiffened a little in response, pointing a finger right back.

Carrie was the manager of a restaurant my father’s corporation, Callahan Industries, owned here in Manhattan. We’d met almost a year ago when I hired her for the job. There was a mild flirtation from the start, but it wasn’t until we were working late together last November that one thing led to another and I found myself back here at her apartment, doing things to her body that would forever be ingrained in my mind. I wasn’t the kind of guy who committed easily to a relationship, but Carrie got under my skin. I found myself thinking about her day and night. When I turned down a pretty waitress at a local bar back in Boston, I knew I had it bad.

But I didn’t sign up for this.

“You know how much my family means to me.”

“But if they care about you, they’d understand your need to be independent.”

“I am independent.”

“No, you’re not. You jump every time one of them tells you to.” She crossed her arms over those perky tits. “Do they even know about me?”

I turned away, snatching my suit jacket off the chair where I’d placed it hours ago.

“I’m not having this discussion with you again, Carrie.”

“Why not? Don’t I have a right to know where this relationship is headed?”

“Why do I have to be the one to define that? There’re two of us here.”

“Yeah. I want you to move in with me. I want you to be in an exclusive relationship with me. You’re the one who refuses to make any sort of commitment to me.”

“I come back, don’t I? I don’t disappear. I come back and I make myself available whenever you call.”

“That’s not the same thing!”

I turned and looked at her, trying to focus on her face and nothing else.

“You know how hard it is for me. We’ve talked about this.”

“Everyone has baggage, Ian. So you had a fucked up childhood. So what?”

My eyes narrowed. What she called fucked up, I called a living nightmare. If not for the Callahans…

“I can’t move in with you. Not here. If you wanted to move to Boston—?”

“And start all over in some second-rate restaurant? No thanks. My career is more important than that.”

“Then we’re at an impasse.”

Her eyes narrowed as she continued to glare at me. I didn’t react. I just stood there and watched her, calm on the outside, but a bowl of jelly on the inside. I didn’t want to lose her. She was probably the best thing that had ever happened to me since Abigail Callahan found me in some half-assed group home. But I couldn’t give her what she wanted.

She shook her head, brushing away a few tears.

“Then go. I know that’s what you want. You would rather go do your father’s bidding than be with me. So go. See if you can find happiness there because you’re sure as hell not opening yourself to it here.”

“You know I care about you.”

She laughed, the sound so bitter it almost hurt to hear it.

“If you cared about me, you wouldn’t keep walking away.”

She was probably right about that. But I felt like I had no choice.

I walked away. I heard the thump of something hitting the bedroom door after I closed it. I didn’t stop. There was no point. If I went back, if I said all the words she wanted to hear, I’d still have to get up and leave. So what would be solved?

It was a long drive back to Boston, long enough to consider the direction my life was moving in. Before Carrie, I was content with my life. I worked for my father, both as managing director of Callahan Industries and for his protection racket for the Irish mob. It was dangerous work—the latter not the former—but it kept the blood pumping. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the respect and the power that came with it. There were women, too, any woman I might want, on any given night. It was a good life, but it wasn’t one that felt permanent. It was fluid and I liked that. Permanent was a problem for me. Carrie was right when she said my childhood had screwed me up a little. More than a little, really. My biological family was about as fucked up as any family could be. Then the state intervened—and that life was worse in many ways. I fully believed I’d be dead now if it weren’t for my mom.

Abigail Callahan. She was a social worker who came to my group home to see another kid and ended up taking me home with her. In one snap decision, my life went from nightmare to normal. I went from being alone and constantly afraid to being part of a family. The Callahans adopted me less than six months after that first meeting—and none of us ever looked back.

How could I walk away from that?

It was simple to me. As long as Pops and my siblings—Killian, Sean, Kyle, Stacy, and Kevin—needed me, I’d be there. It wasn’t that I felt like I owed them—although I did—but because that was what family did. It’s what my mom taught me by saving me from my nightmare.

If Carrie couldn’t understand that, then maybe she wasn’t the right one for me, as much as it killed my heart to admit it. Carrie was the first steady relationship I’d had since high school. She was the first woman I got on well enough with to even want to try for some sort of commitment. I wanted to be with her. But I couldn’t allow her to set ultimatums for me. When I felt pushed into a corner, I tended to lash out. I didn’t want to lash out at her.

We’d work it out. We’d done it before. I’d call her when I got to Boston and she’d be calm enough by then to talk it out rationally. Until then…

I should tell my family about her. I don’t know why I haven’t. I guess…I guess I just liked having her all to myself. Once I told them about her, they’d want to meet her. They’d want to throw a party like they did for Kyle last month when he brought home his Vegas bride. And then I’d have to share her…and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

But if it made her feel more secure in our relationship, I suppose it would be worth it.

Maybe.

I just passed the Boston city limits when my phone rang. My heart fluttered in my chest, assuming it was Carrie. But it was Killian.

“Pops wants to meet at his office.”

“Do I have time to stop by my place and shower?”

“It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Does this have something to do with the shooting?”

There’d been a shooting almost three weeks ago during a meeting between Jack McGuire, the head of the Irish mob, and Carmine Rossi, the head of the Italian mob. The two groups had been in the middle of a territory struggle for more than a year. It started as part of a scheme to take down my father. My brother, Kevin, blamed Pops for the death of our mother almost seven years ago. She died of pancreatic cancer, but Kevin got it into his head that Pops killed her while she was in the hospital in order to steal her away from us kids. He’d been systemically trying to take Pops down for the last two years, beginning with kidnapping Brianna, a daughter Pops didn’t even know he had, then the attempted murder of Killian and Pops’ arrest for RICO statute violations. Only after the shooting, a calculated attack that was designed to make it appear that the Irish had killed the Italian leader, did we discovered Kevin was behind it all. We’d been looking for him ever since, but had no luck.

“Yeah. Jack spoke to Carmine, and they’ve come up with some sort of deal.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a few.”

They were waiting for me in Pops’ office. Killian was lounging against the wall, Sean in a chair. Kyle and Pops were standing close together by the windows at the back of the room, whispering about something or other. Kyle looked up when I came through the door and had this look on his face that made me wonder what he knew that I wasn’t going to like.

“How’s it going?” Killian asked, coming over to shake my hand.

“Fine. Just coming back from doing the rounds in Manhattan.”

Killian nodded. “Stacy wants you to come over for dinner later this week, if you have time. You haven’t seen the baby in a while.”

“Sure.”

“You and Delaney, too,” Killian said, gesturing toward Sean. “We’ve barely seen you since you came back to town.”

“I’ll talk to Delaney. She’s been hanging out at the hospital a lot, but Jack’s going to be released tomorrow night. I doubt Caroline’s going to want her around the house too much.”

“She okay?”

Sean simply shrugged.

I knew that Delaney was Jack’s daughter from one of his many affairs. I knew they had something of a strained relationship until recently. But I didn’t know much more, and Sean didn’t seem all that ready to discuss it. But their relationship—Sean and Delaney’s—was pretty new, so I supposed I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about it.

“What about me?” Kyle asked, coming over. “Do I get an invitation?”

“Of course,” Killian said. “You and Amelia should come.”

“Amelia’s in Oregon visiting her father. But I’d be happy to be Ian’s date.” He punched my arm lightly. “Then you won’t feel so out of place, bro.”

“Who says I would have felt out of place?”

Kyle shrugged. “Just thought you wouldn’t want to be the odd man out.”

I started to respond, my thoughts immediately moving to Carrie. Maybe I should tell them. Maybe if I invited her to this little dinner, not only would it be an introduction to my family, but it would show her I was serious about this relationship. Maybe then she would back off on the whole moving in thing.

But then Pops cleared his throat, and we all came to attention as we always did. He came around the desk and leaned back against the front of it, his arms crossed over his chest. He glanced at each of us, but his eyes settled on me. I thought for a brief moment that there was a touch of regret in his eyes, maybe even sympathy. And that frightened me just a little.

“As you boys know, things have been a little up in the air since the shooting three weeks ago. With both Jack and Carmine in the hospital, the boys on the street have been struggling. The Italians, some, still labor under the belief that we lured Carmine to that warehouse to kill him. Some of our men believe that Carmine hired the shooters in order to start a street war. Jack and Carmine both want this to end. They want the boys on the street to stop fighting.”

Pops relaxed his arms and leaned forward again, his attention falling to the floor for a moment, as though he had notes there to read from. Then his eyes settled on me for a brief second before moving around the room.

“Jack and Carmine have come to an agreement. They’ve decided to split the city evenly in half, to share in the gun trade and to work together in a sort of partnership.”

Killian and Sean both stiffened—I could almost hear the creak of their muscles as they straightened up—Killian immediately arguing against the idea.

“An equal partnership? But we’ve been running the gun trade in this city since before you and Jack took over, Pops! How could Jack—?”

Pops held up his hand. “Jack did what he had to do to smooth this thing over. If he hadn’t agreed to it, there would have been a full out war, and none of us want that.”

Of course we didn’t. It would mean a lot of casualties on both sides. And it would mean more heat from the cops—which was something no one wanted. Not only that, but it would mean that one or the other would be forced from the city. And if we’d lost, if things had gone poorly for our side, I couldn’t even imagine what our future would have looked like.

No. A war wasn’t the answer.

“We have to support Jack’s decision,” I said, turning to look at all three of my brothers. Killian shook his head, moving angrily back from us. Sean didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t try to argue. And Kyle…he met my eye and studied me again as if he was trying to take a measure of me.

“There’s one other thing,” Pops said slowly. “Ian…if I had been in on the discussion, I never would have allowed for this to even become a thing. But I wasn’t.”