Exploding: A Mafia Romance (The O'Keefe Family Collection #1) Page 8

  “Fallyn,” James said, softening. He stood and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tighter now that he knew the dangers that threatened to tear her away. “This is a lot.”

  “And you don’t do complicated. I totally get it.” Fallyn shrank out of his arms and unlocked the door, making her way back down to the party alone.

  12

  The West End

  “It’s important for building up the alliance between our families, that’s why.” Killian’s voice was firm as he loaded up another box of muffins into the delivery truck. Twelve hours since the work party, and Fallyn wished to go back in time to James’ couch so she could make out with a handsome lawyer instead of dodge political expectations with her often demanding eldest brother. Killian stepped down off the truck, letting Seamus and Finn load the rest. “And you’re really going to scoff at a solid payday? D’Amato money’s the best kind. Something sweeter about it.”

  “Seriously? Get in there,” she ordered Killian, pointing to her office in a small room in the corner of the kitchen. “Sit.” She pointed at the chair, slightly mollified when he obeyed, but she could tell he was biting back a smirk at her anger. “Now you listen to me. Sweet Somethings is my bakery. Any orders go through the proper channels. They don’t get placed by you. You don’t work here!” She called over her shoulder into the kitchen to Loretta, who was mixing a batch of muffin batter. “Loretta, Killian’s not your boss, hun. Don’t let him jerk you around like that. Just go by what’s on the sheet, okay?”

  “Sure thing, pumpkin.” Loretta was a great worker, but she had twenty years on Fallyn and sometimes treated her like a daughter instead of a boss.

  Killian smirked at his sister. “Pumpkin. That’s cute. Yes, you’re the big, scary boss, pumpkin. My mistake. Won’t happen again.”

  Fallyn was red with anger. “Take this seriously! I’m trying to run a business here, and I don’t need you undercutting me at every turn. Vince wants me to start making the desserts for one of his restaurants like he’s doing for us? Fine, but he can talk to me about it. There’s no need for you to broker the deal like it’s something shady.”

  “He suggested building a more substantial alliance between our families, so I suggested this. Now it’s reciprocal. Instead of you shelling out cash for desserts that may or may not sell, now it’s an even trade – your desserts for his. You’re not seeing the progress, Fal. The D’Amatos have their goods in one of our businesses in neutral territory, but O’Keefes are actually doing business in the west end now!”

  Fallyn shook her head. “It’s too fast. My deal was a baby step. You’re going to push something his family isn’t ready for, and it’s going to bite all of us. This wasn’t what I wanted.”

  “It’s still your deal. I just enhanced it and worked out the logistics.”

  “I’m the owner of this store. It was my deal, so it was up to me to work out the logistics. Vince was going to drop his bakery goods off here and take cash from me. No one had to go into enemy territory on my deal. You’re tempting fate, Kill, and you know it.”

  “Think bigger picture, Fally. This is them letting us into their territory. This is the first time in years! Not just doing business, but we’re dropping our things off in person in the west end. It’s a big step. Can’t you see what we’re trying to do here? Finally the D’Amatos want to stop fighting. Finally Dad’s letting me take over and make these kinds of calls. This is a peace offering, and you’re the perfect person to do it. This is big, Fally. You know they won’t mess with you. This is a good thing. This could mean the beginning of the end of the territory disputes. Don’t you want that?”

  Fallyn softened. “Of course I do. It was my idea to begin with! But you have to know that what you did wasn’t cool. I’m the business owner. Vince can talk to me if he wants to work something out. And this is short notice. I hope you realize how much you’re putting me out. And not just me, it’s Loretta and Rina who are going to have hard days today. You should care about that.”

  Killian fought to appear contrite. He stood and moved into the kitchen, his upright walk, clean haircut and expensive clothes demanding respect. “Sorry for the extra work, Loretta. Will this help?” He pulled out a fifty, walked over and tucked it in the pocket of her apron.

  Loretta blushed and spluttered a few beats before finding the right words. Killian was tall, handsome and had the right answer for everything. He was intimidating and in control, two things that often flustered women he interacted with. “Sure thing, Boss.”

  “He’s not your boss!” Fallyn protested, her hand on her brow, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. “Is the truck loaded up? I’ve got to get this stuff delivered before eleven. You know, for the job you didn’t discuss with me at all. I’m twenty-five, Kill. I can run this business just fine on my own.”

  Killian hugged his baby sister. “You say you’re twenty-five, but all I hear is you telling me that you’re a big girl now because you’re five years old and you can finally go to school.”

  “I haven’t been five in a long time, old man.” Her words were muffled in his armpit. “You should leave me to run my store and go home so you can get some arthritis cream or something for your old man joints after I kick your butt.”

  “I’m not an old man. I’m only forty. That’s not old.”

  “You have gray hair.” She reached up and messed his hair that was the signature O’Keefe auburn, but had a few strands of gray through the temples he kept trimmed to limit the age distinction. “When we get there, you, Finn and Seamus have to back off. Seriously. If you want this to be a legitimate business, it has to be mine, and it can’t be you brokering all the deals without me.”

  “Fine, fine. You’re the big business woman. I’ll let you deal with Vince from here on out. But one of us goes with you on deliveries until I say so, understood?”

  “Yes, Father,” she mocked him, earning a good-natured scoff.

  Seamus came out of the truck, his face red and sweaty from loading the goods. “Are you crazy kids ready to take the haul down to the wrong side of the tracks?” He smacked his hands together with glee. “I can’t wait to see the looks on the family’s faces when we cross their border.”

  “They all know we’re coming. I spoke with Vince just this morning to make sure their people knew to stand down.” Killian touched his belt where Fallyn knew he had his gun stashed. “In you get,” he ordered his sister, walking out with her and offering his hand to give her a boost into the passenger’s seat of the tall white truck. Killian motioned for her to scoot over so she would be sandwiched in between Seamus and himself, with Finn riding in the back with the delivery.

  The drive was only twenty minutes from her store, but as soon as they crossed the railroad tracks and the trees gave way to dilapidated buildings, Fallyn’s palms began to sweat. Seamus drove carefully, checking his mirrors too many times. Fallyn watched the stream of homes slowly devolve with broken shutters, missing windows and overgrown lawns as they drove further into the heart of the west end. Killian’s gun was no longer tucked into his belt. He had it clutched between his knees, ready to aim at the wrong moment’s notice.

  Vince’s main restaurant chain in the heart of the west end was La Cucina Italia. The location on Fourth Street and Fairhead Way was where his family conducted all their business. Before things went so horribly wrong between their families, it was where Fallyn had played as a child with Jo-Jo as the two chased after the older kids. Joey was only three years older, and had made for a good playmate on many a long day. Her eyes were wide as she took in the streets that looked far more ominous than the ones in their territory.

  A few people stopped and watched as the white O’Keefe truck drove through town. Fallyn placed her hand on Killian’s back to calm him, speaking loud enough for her words to carry through the small window separating the cargo area from the cab, where Finn was. “Remember that our territory could’ve been just like this if you hadn’t loosened the death grip Daddy had on his hi
gh-interest loan clients. You did a good thing, Kill, so don’t listen when Daddy throws his usual fits. The east end is beautiful.” She looked through the windshield at the busted-out windows of a convenience store they drove past. “This is what happens when you take care of your bottom line without bothering to take care of your clients.”

  Finn reached through the window and gripped his sister’s dainty hand. “Sing it, Sister Suffragette.”

  When Seamus pulled into the sparsely populated parking lot of La Cucina Italia, no one spoke. The three sat in tensed contemplation before Killian put his hand on his door. “Fal, you stay in here until I tell you it’s safe.”

  “No,” she ruled, using a finite tone she tried not to invoke too often, lest it lose a little of its power. “You’re not getting out with your gun drawn. Sends the wrong message. You want peace? Try harder. I’ll go out first.”

  Seamus hissed to let his sister know he did not support her plan. “Not a chance, Fally. Kill, Finn and I’ll go out, then when we give the okay, you can come out.” He looked over his sister to Killian. “Is Carrigan ready?”

  Fallyn was livid. “You brought Carri in on this nonsense? Where’s he hiding out? I didn’t see his cop car.”

  Seamus jerked his thumb south. “He’s in neutral territory, but he’s ready and waiting for a call from us.” He looked around the parking lot, seeing no people walking around at noon, which gave them no small amount of discomfort.

  “This is ridiculous. Either we trust them or we don’t. I’m going out first. They won’t shoot me. Now you’ll put your guns away. Nothing says ‘I came here for a fight’ quite like coming out with your pistols blazing.” When her brothers began to argue, she crossed her arms. “Either we trust them, or we pack it on up and go home. This is what you wanted, Kill. Either it’s safe for us here, or you pushed this whole thing too hard. Which is it?” She did not wait for a response, but climbed over Killian and exited the truck.

  No sooner had she set her foot on the concrete did unwelcome hands grab her and jerk her away from her brothers.

  13

  Captive Baker

  Fallyn’s scream brought Vince, Joey and Angelo out of the restaurant just as Killian, Finn and Seamus jumped out of the truck. It wasn’t a scream of terror, which one might assume would come when a young woman is grabbed and restrained in the middle of a parking lot by a sweaty stranger in a filthy yellowed white t-shirt. Fallyn’s was a shriek of anger and indignation at being snatched at despite her attempts at making peace. Too many men were shouting at the kidnapper, who now looked confused that his heroic capture of the smallest O’Keefe on enemy soil was unappreciated.

  “Let her go!” Vince and Killian shouted as one. Then Vince held his hand out to Killian, who switched between training his gun on the kidnapper, and pointing it at Vince, whom he assumed had betrayed him. Vince tried to keep his voice level. “Killian, let us handle him. Gino’s a low man who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

  “He’s got four seconds to put her down,” Killian shouted, a wild look in his eyes.

  The man with greasy black hair was sweating, clutching Fallyn around the neck tighter than he meant to. He was cutting off her air, and since he was far taller, she could barely touch her toes to the ground. With each jerk of his arm, she was lifted off the ground, making a gulp of air impossible. She reached above her and tried to claw at his eyes, but missed and got a handful of his hair. She yanked hard, fighting with everything in her as she slowly suffocated at the hands of a man she’d never even met.

  Vince was livid. “Put her down, Gino! I asked them to come here. I told them these streets were safe for this delivery truck.”

  “They shouldn’t be here, Vince! Papa D would never’ve let this trash in! They can’t leave here, bragging that they made it out without a scratch. Before you know it, the whole place’ll be crawling with Micks.”

  Fallyn nailed Gino with her elbow to his gut, which forced him to lower her a few inches. She did not expect him to squeeze her tighter, pull a gun out of his back pocket and hold it to her temple.

  “Control your people!” Killian yelled at Vince, furious that things had gotten so far out of hand.

  Vince signaled with a single finger, and Angelo aimed straight ahead toward his target, meeting Fallyn’s eye and nodding once to show her that he wouldn’t let Gino kill her. He watched her face turn crimson all over again, watched her struggle and kick, despite the guns that were all pointing in her direction. Vince shouted above the horror, “Fallyn, stand still!”

  It took a split second of evaluation to decide whether standing still would get the man holding her shot, or if it would make her a clearer target. Without knowing why or how she decided to trust Vince, she went limp in Gino’s grip.

  Two seconds later there were gunshots.

  Another half a second and there was a searing pain in her arm. Fallyn screamed as Gino dropped her to the concrete, his own body collapsing behind hers.

  Fallyn was scooped up in her brother’s arms, shaking with adrenaline, pain and terror. Killian carried her to Carrigan’s patrol car, which showed up minutes after the bullet shells clattered to the ground like so many chimes of judgment and doom.

  Angelo was being cuffed by another cop while Killian, Finn, Seamus, Joey and Vince were questioned. Well, Seamus was supposed to be questioned, but he lost his temper and lunged for Angelo, yearning to get a good beating in before the stoic Italian henchman was sent to jail. “I’ll kill you for this! I’ll kill you, Angelo!” Seamus was restrained and put on the ground by yet another cop, who was trying to get to the bottom of what had happened.

  Fallyn trembled with white-hot pain as Carrigan put pressure to her arm. “It’s okay. It’s alright,” Carrigan cooed, fearful his assurances might be false. “Can I look at it?”

  Fallyn shook her head, not wanting to bleed all over his officer’s uniform. She was too afraid to look at her wound, not ready to see how deep the damage went. “It just grazed my arm. Angelo meant to only hit Gino. He just nicked me a little by accident.”

  Carrigan cringed, wishing he was not wearing his uniform so he could go after the family without the code of the badge pulling his punches. “Is that your official statement, Fally? Because they’re going to let Angelo go if you don’t press charges.” He leaned into the back of his patrol car and pled with his sister. “Press charges, Fally. You don’t know that he wasn’t aiming for you and missed with Gino.”

  She glared at Carrigan, her blue eyes matching the stubbornness in his green ones. “Get me a cop who’ll take my statement,” she growled. “Angelo hit his target, which was Gino. He nicked me by accident, and I’m not pressing charges. Angelo saved my life. You’ll do well to remember that a member of the D’Amato clan shot his own to save an O’Keefe. Don’t you dare rough him up, either. It’s a tiny boat we’re all betting on, Carri. Don’t tip it.”

  Carrigan sucked his full lower lip between his two front teeth, taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out. “Fine. It’s your call. I hope you know what you’re doing, kiddo.” He went back to the other cops, who were taking statements of the only people who would dare to give them – Vince and Killian. The ambulance came out, tending to Fallyn’s arm with a few stitches after she refused to be taken to the hospital. The scene was photographed and the body removed. Though it was barely noon, Fallyn felt like she had lived a whole day in just that one hour of her life.

  14

  Italian Explosion

  While the men were dealing with the mess, Fallyn made herself useful unloading the truck one box at a time. Though the pain in her arm was excruciating when moved, she knew nothing important was broken that wouldn’t heal on its own. She walked slowly into the kitchen through the backdoor that was propped open.

  “You can’t put that there,” came a nasally voice Fallyn would know anywhere. Vince’s long-time girlfriend Maria was sitting in Vince’s office off to the side of the kitchen, her red heels propped up on his desk as s
he popped her gum, watching Fallyn through the large window she used to survey the empty kitchen. The staff and diners were all out in the parking lot, adding commentary to the mayhem Fallyn wanted no part of.

  “Where would you like it, Maria?” Fallyn asked in the most polite voice she could muster. She was holding a box with four dozen muffins inside, sweating with the effort to hold it with one functioning arm, since the other was in agony every time she used it.

  “You can take it about ten miles north, dump it in a ditch and roll over all of it with your car, Little Keefer.” She twirled a lock of her black hair around her red acrylic fingernail. Despite the upset outside, she remained forever in her bubble of being a kept woman with little concern for the horrors of the day.

  Fallyn set the box of muffins down on the stainless steel counter, looking around at the space that had changed very little since she’d been a child. There was a pasta press bolted into the island in the center of the kitchen, two ovens, eight burners and a faded Italian flag painted over the doorframe that led to the crimson-bedecked dining area. Fallyn remembered Papa D kissing his fingers and pressing three of them to the flag each time he passed through the doorway. It was his good luck ritual he stuck to like it was holy dogma. Fallyn inhaled the scent of marinara sauce she recalled Papa D teaching her how to make when she had been barely four. Jo-Jo hadn’t been interested, but she had been mesmerized. She recalled Papa D’s round Santa belly that always hung over his Italian flag belt buckle, the twinkle in his eye gleaming whenever she asked a question about why he was using each spice. He would take off the lid, bend down and let her sniff each jar and taste a bit of the herb so she had a frame of reference. Much of her love of cooking had come from his patient tutelage.