12 Rounds (19 page)

Chapter Twenty Two

~Connie~

Connor Doyle loved to people watch. He couldn’t explain why it thrilled him, but it was something he did often to calm himself. You could learn a lot about a person by their actions, their mannerisms, and watching different types of people not only amused Connie, but added to his repertoire for knowing how to read another human being.

And at the moment he needed to calm himself down.

Badly.

He and Aidan had not yet weeded the rat out of the brotherhood and the fact that he had a narc in his crew sniffing around, probably providing the feds with all the information they needed to conduct a raid, well that put him on edge. Made him moodier than usual. So he came to the tiny Fifth Street diner to people watch, relax, and resort to his last option in uncovering the greasy little furball who was feeding information to the five-o.

Luciano Piazza was a disgustingly overweight man. He barely fit into the booth and when he slid in across from Connie and his bulging gut lapped over the top of the table Connie did his best not to make a disgusted gurgle at the sight of this man’s obesity.

And yet the female companions that accompanied this monstrosity were of supermodel caliber looks. Two of them, one a tall red head, with deep crimson locks and a slender build, and a curvaceous brunette with full breasts stood at the edge of the booth. Luciano’s thick, slicked back salt and pepper hair filled Connie’s gaze as the Don leaned across the table and took each one of the beauty’s slender hands between his pudgy fingers and planted a soft, sensual kiss on their flesh. Then he shooed them away like flies buzzing around a ripe, freshly sliced piece of watermelon and faced the king pin of the Irish mafia.

Luciano leaned back, hands resting a top his rotund belly. Then he looked Connie square in the eye. “Connor,” he said with a slight nod. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting.”

Connie thought about scowling. The Italians were suave. And slick. He didn’t buy the nice guy act for a second. The truth was, both men knew that if the feds weren’t in town they’d more or less be shooting at each other rather than sitting across the booth from each other having a casual conversation. “Cut the bull shit,” Connie said bluntly. “Let’s get straight to the point.”

Luciano lifted a thick, bushy black eye brow. “The point?” The man’s thick Cleveland accent was heavy, but laced with the faintest bit of an Italian lilt. Like Connie, Luciano was born abroad in Sicily, but also immigrated to the U.S. at a young age. “The point is somebody tipped off the filthy pigs and it wasn’t any of my guys.”

“And you’re certain of that?” Connie’s voice held a questioning tone. He knew he couldn’t trust Luciano or his word under normal circumstances, but the circumstances Connie and his crew faced were anything but normal.

“They’ve all been interrogated.” Luciano drummed his fingertips along his belly. “Thoroughly.” The fat man began twisting one of the many gold rings on his chubby fingers. “Like you, Connor, I have a knack for catching rats amongst my men.” He let out a long winded sigh. “Sadly, reality always leaves the most painful and throbbing wound.”

Connie sat up in the booth and gripped the edge of the table. “I beg your pardon.” He grit his teeth and anger blazed through his eyes. “What are you insinuating with this reality bull shit?”

Luciano chuckled. Not out of nervousness or fear. But out of certainty. “That as much as you hate to realize it, or hate for it to be true, the rat is living amongst your men.” The Don checked the beds of his fingernails. “Obviously you’re not as good at catching rats as you think you are.”

A string of offensive slurs bounced around Connie’s mind, but he held them back. He even thought about reaching into his coat pocket and shooting the fat fucker between the eyes. But he did neither one of those things. What the members of his brotherhood didn’t know is that Connie kept the Italians in his back pocket. He allowed Luciano’s runners to sell their shitty blow on his corners. Discreetly of course.

You see, Connie was a very smart business man. He knew very well that Luciano’s supplier provided them with the shittiest grade F kind of blow. The Italians didn’t dabble in the narcotics area as much as they dabbled in selling weapons. Drug paraphenalia  belonged to the members of the Braithreachas Don Saol. They owned the junkies of the world. So if the Italians wanted to dabble in the drug business and keep Connie’s customers returning to him and only him, he was content with that. He just couldn’t let the other members of the brotherhood know this.

“I happen to think I’m excellent at catching rats, Luciano,” Connie said. “Sometimes those bastards are tricky, quick, and slick, but it’s only a matter of time before they scurry out of their rat holes.”

Luciano leaned forward, his heavy gut resting on the table of the booth. For a second Connie’s eyes widened and he thought it might break beneath his weight. “You just better be certain none of my men are involved in the crossfire.” Meaning if you get busted, don’t even think about taking us down with you.

“Do I look like a narc?” Connie snarled. “The same goes for you.” He didn’t trust Luciano as far as he could throw him. And judging by his size, that wouldn’t be more than a centimeter. The truth was, both men knew they’d toss each other under the bus if it meant keeping each other’s men out of the slammer. It was just something they’d never admit to openly.

Luciano eyed Connie apprehensively, and shook the whole booth before sliding out of it. He nodded curtly at Connie. “Connor, it’s always a pleasure.”

“Likewise.” He kept his eye on Luciano as he waddled down the cramped aisle of the small diner. The two women he came with stood up from their table and Connie watched, shaking his head as Luciano extended his thick bulky arms to each lovely lady before they made their exit. He never understood how someone like Luciano could get lady friends like the women he just saw him with, but he assumed it was because the Diego son of a bitch was loaded.

God damn Gold diggers.

To Connie they just weren’t worth it.

It wasn’t until the bell on the diner door rang, smacked by Luciano’s wide hip,  that Connie’s attention averted to the front of the diner. His gaze centered on a young couple interacting with the cashier as they paid their bill. The guy was tall, blonde, and nicely built.

The young lady with him, well, Connie knew he could pick her out in a crowd.

Teagan Reilly.

“Teagan!” Connie shouted her name and Teagan’s head snapped in his direction. Connie expected her to come over to him and greet him joyfully like she had always done in the past. He hadn’t seen her in a few years, being that she rarely came home from Connecticut, where she attended college at Brown University.

But Teagan didn’t even come over to him.

Her eyes widened then she turned to the guy she was with and tugged on his arm, pulling him right out the diner door, giving Connie the cold shoulder.

Connie scowled as he watched her cast one more wary glance in his direction through the window before shuffling down the sidewalk. There was something off kilter about her reaction to him. Something that settled in the pit of his stomach like spoiled milk and as he read into his suspisions further,  he thought he might throw up.

It took a lot to make the king pin of the brotherhood’s stomach churn, but if anything did make his stomach churn it was definitely this. He got up from his booth and made his way to the exit, weaving himself through the customers that were on their way to the cashier. Then he slipped out the door just as Aidan pulled the Lincoln  up to the curb.

Aidan got out, opened the door for him, and just before he closed it, Connie  grabbed his right hand man by the forearm, “I want you to take a trip,” he told him.

Aidan stared at him puzzled. “A trip?”

“Yes,” Connie continued. “You’d like a tour of the Brown University Campus. Your daughter is interested in attending.”

“My daughter?” There was a questioning yet confused tone to Aidan’s deep voice. Connie watched as the expression on his face changed when he finally understood. “Oh that’s right. My daughter. Yes, she’s always wanted to attend the Brown University.” Connie smiled at the fact that even though it took him a while to catch on, Aidan always knew how to read his mind.

It wasn’t until Aidan closed the door to the town car that the sickening feeling returned, swirling around in Connie’s gut when he thought about the unfortunate situation the brotherhood was in and how he’d have to demonstrate what happened to rats when they double-crossed him.

He’d been investigating, and following around all the members of his crew and the dirty  little scoundrel had been right under his nose all along.

But one thing Connie never took into account was that the rat…

The dirty, stinking rat.

Would be a female.

Chapter Twenty Three

~Sean~

Hadlee is still shaking.

She’s staring into my eyes, but she’s still shaking.

And she knows.

She knows for sure who I am and what I’ve done for her. There was a sliver of a second when I was holding her, where red flashed behind my eyes. Red equaling rage, and I could feel it boiling in my blood, pumping through my nervous system.

I saw the fucking pervert’s face behind my eyelids and all I could think about was how I should have killed him and discarded the body. How I wished like hell that Joe hadn’t happened upon us and insisted that I turn that fucker over to the cops. Then there’s another part of me that wishes that I could repair the angel shaking beneath my fingertips.

I wish I could make her forget the last year and a half and return her to her former glory.

Maybe she used to be a different person.

Maybe she used to be less helpless.

And it sickens me that that piece of shit took that part of her away.

Who knows if she’ll ever be whole again?

That’s the worst part of going through something traumatic. The not knowing and the wishing. Not knowing if there’s any hope left in life. And when realization hits you and you face the fact that all hope is lost, that’s where the wishing comes in. Because you wish for hope like it’s a shooting star burning across miles of darkened sky, and when it sails away you feel like hope is just a dirty tainted word.

A word that breathes false prophecies.

A word that eventually tastes rotten or like moldy bread as it rests on your tongue.

I know how it feels to lose hope.

And yourself.

And everything you used to believe in.

I know what it’s like to feel like you’re entraped in the bottom of a deep dark pit,  and you’re constantly wondering when, or if you’ll ever be able to climb out.

Hadlee’s voice cuts into my depressing thoughts when she asks, “Why?”

I lower my eyes to meet hers and when I see the tears glistening, dangling on the tips of her long, dark lashes, the only thing I can think about is how I want to take her away. Console her. Hold her. Tell her everything is going to be all right over and over again. But I don’t say any of that. I don’t like to express my emotions. Or sound like a pussy. So instead I say, “Why, what?”

Her voice vibrates, thick with a wad of emotion when she questions me again, “Why did you save me?”

“I don’t know.” My voice comes out distant—lost. I can’t really answer her question accurately. Mainly because I don’t want to dip into my past and tell her that just by looking at her I knew she didn’t deserve to be violated the way she was, no woman deserves that. But I’m not going to mention it to her because at that moment, when I saved her life, I thought of my Ma and Tee, and it’s too painful to think about my dead mother or sister in that kind of situation.

The thought has my temper flaring again and I have to inhale and exhale to keep myself calm. To keep my temper in check. To keep myself from flying off the handle and punching something.

A lone tear drips down Hadlee’s ivory cheek and I catch it with my curled forefinger. “No more tears, okay?” She smiles faintly and nods,  and at the same time, the door to the classroom swings open and the women begin filing out.

Lara catches a glimpse of Hadlee in my arms and rushes toward us, eyes narrowed, hands balled into fists. She hops up into the ring, and snatches Hadlee from my grasp, a spark of anger in her light blue eyes. “What the hell did you do to her?” she accuses, pulling Hadlee to her chest.

“Nothing I—!”

Hadlee intervenes, “It’s not his fault, Lara. I had a weak moment, that’s all. He was just comforting me.” Hadlee gazes deep into my eyes assuringly. “Everything is all right now.”

Lara is still glaring at me and I have the sudden urge to snatch Hadlee away from her. But I don’t. The want inside of me is boiling like a steel kettle full of water, but as much as I want Hadlee back in my arms, I don’t go there. I know Lara is only looking out for her friend. Hell, I’d do the same thing she did for someone I’m close to. Come to think about it, I’d probably do worse.

They’d probably be leaving the gym in a body bag.

Lara looks at Hadlee and pushes her hair back off her shoulders. “You ready to go then?”

Hadlee nods and Lara flashes me one more dirty look before helping Hadlee out of the ring. They walk to the exit and I stare at them, my arms stretched  out along the red rubber ropes.

A twinge of sadness pools inside of me when I watch them walk out the gym doors and a tiny pin prick of a pain stabs my heart.

I’m not a mushy guy.

I don’t do relationships .

I insist that fucking is universal and mind altering and that making love is for twats or fucking morons.

Leaning backwards, my arms are taut, my fingertips curled around the ropes. And I’m hit with an epiphany. I realize that I used to think those things. Until Hadlee came along.

Now the only thing I can think about is how Hadlee is like the blow that Connie’s bitches hustle to the addicts on the streets.

She’s pure.

Mind numbing.