Scar
I’m going to get myself killed.
And I probably deserve it.
I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, saying Rita is my wife. As soon as I went back into that room, I could tell the vibe had changed. Orin went along with the meeting like nothing had happened, but his sons kept staring at me, especially that creature Gregory.
They could tell it was bullshit.
But it was such an insane lie, they probably couldn’t figure out how to prove that I’m a fraud.
I likely could’ve told them the truth. Admitted she was my legal assistant. Apologized for misleading them. I would’ve lost the job, but even violent gangsters aren’t stupid enough to straight out murder a couple of people in the back of a bar.
Probably, at least.
But some part of me can’t let go. I can’t lose, not if there’s a way to turn it around.
And so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
Now I’m fucked because Orin wants to have another meeting.
And he wants me to bring my new wife.
This is bad. Extremely bad. I could go to Carmine or Eros for help, but I can only guess what they’ll say. Something along the lines of, holy shit, you’re an idiot, you might as well put the gun in your mouth and pull the trigger for Orin next time.
I’d deserve that.
But no, I can handle this problem myself. I solve issues, I don’t create them. Ever since I started practicing law, I’ve been damn good at what I do. I pride myself in keeping things tight, in winning cases, in keeping my clients out of prison and on the right side of the law. Even when they’re operating in extremely murky waters.
Going to Carmine or Eros would only embroil their respective organizations with the Callahans, which they most certainly do not want.
There’s also Ford and his vast reserves of cash, but he’s got another baby on the way. He doesn’t have time to play mobster politics.
Lanzo might help, but he’s still somewhere in Poland hacking targets in Russia for the Ukrainians.
I’m on my own, like I’ve always been. I got myself in to this mess and I’ll drag myself back out.
Only I need to make sure Rita walks away unscathed as well.
She’s the real wildcard here. I understand Orin Callahan and his sons-I’ve worked for men like them for years. Yes, they’re powerful, and yes, they’re extremely violent, but they’re still motivated by simple things. Wealth. Prestige. Influence. They’ll look the other way if I can increase their family’s standing in the world, even marginally.
All I need to do is convince Rita to play along.
But I have no clue if she’ll be willing.
I’m tired from a long trip when I step into the Hyatt, body tense with stress. I need to work out and get a fucking massage. But no time. I head to the bar, looking around until I spot her sitting at the far end.
I pause for a moment to take her in.
Thick auburn hair. Long, dark lashes. Smooth, creamy skin. She’s in a blouse with the top two buttons undone, showing off a not-insignificant amount of cleavage. Her skirt’s shorter than work-appropriate, giving me an extremely pleasant view of her long legs. This must’ve been her backup outfit. And what a fucking outfit it is.
The girl is absolutely stunning.
She’s also ten years younger than me.
I need to get it together. But fuck, out in that hallway after that kiss, I wanted to tear into her. I wanted to rip her top open, hike her skirt up, and fuck her then and there. That kiss made my blood ring with utter lust.
Lust is going to get me killed.
I approach as she looks over. She doesn’t smile-her face is twisted in an exhausted frown. I can relate to that. I nod as I take a seat beside her and order a whiskey.
“Here,” she says, sliding the credit card back.
“Thank you.” I shove it into my pocket. “How’s the room?”
“Better than what I was going to get.” She hunches forward slightly and sips from her wine. “Do you want to know what my mother said when I told her my apartment burned to the ground?”
My eyebrows raise. Family issues already? “Go ahead. Tell me.”
“She asked if she could Venmo me fifty bucks.” She laughs bitterly. “Fifty bucks. I’m homeless and that’s what she offers.”
“I take it things are complicated with your parents.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” She shakes her head and takes another drink. “I know I shouldn’t talk about this. But I also found out today that my car got totaled by the fire department, which is great.”
“Could be a lawsuit there.”
“You want to do pro bono work?”
“Not really.”
She finishes her wine with a sigh. I realize she’s been sitting here for a little while, and I doubt that’s her first glass.
Fucking hell. But she doesn’t seem wasted, and this conversation can’t wait. I decide to press on, considering the outcome of this discussion will decide whether we get our throats cut by Irish gangsters in the middle of the night or not.
“I understand you have some questions about what happened back in Boston,” I prompt.
She snorts. It’d be cute, if it weren’t so undignified. “That’s putting it mildly. Who the fuck were those guys? Why did they pull out a freaking gun when I walked into the room? Talk about an overreaction.”
I rub my face. God, she’s talking loud. “They are the Callahan family. They’re an organization of-” I hesitate for a moment.
“They’re criminals. I figured that out when they were talking about selling meth.”
My eyes widen. “You heard?”
“They weren’t quiet.”
“Fucking shit.” I grunt and take a long drink from my whiskey. I think I need to get drunk too. “All right then. The Callahan family is a group of Irish criminals. They’re the biggest mob family on the East Coast.”
“And you want to be their lawyer?”
I tilt my head sideways. “Pretty much.”
She stares at me for a long moment, lips pursed. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy that wants to get in trouble.”
“I’m not. I’m the opposite of trouble. It’s why I’m a lawyer.”
“Working for mobsters seems like a lot of trouble. Especially the type of mobsters that whip out guns on random girls.”
I tense my jaw. “I told you not to come looking for me.”
“You didn’t mention the life-or-death stakes.”
“They were startled, that’s all. I promised them I’d be alone, and most sane people wouldn’t walk in on the Callahan family having a private meeting. They thought you were a threat.”
“I’m not,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m just your stupid assistant.”
“They didn’t know that. Now here we are, in this mess together.”
She groans. “What did you tell them after I left?”
“That you’re my wife.” I hesitate, not sure if I should tell her this part or not, but shove forward anyway. “Orin invited us back to Boston next weekend.”
“Us?” she asks, blinking rapidly. “You mean me and you?”
“As in, me and my new, absurdly young wife.”
“I’m not that young. You’re just an old man.”
“I’m thirty-five. That isn’t old.”
“Compared to me, you’re ancient.” She finishes her glass of wine. “I’m not going to Boston with you next weekend. I’m sorry, I know this puts you in a bad position, but I need to figure my life out, okay? I get you want to fire me now and I don’t blame you at all. I appreciate you letting me rent a room here, but really, it’s fine. I’ll land on my feet. Or not, who knows.” She shoves back from the bar and stands. “Good luck with the mobsters, Scar. Nice working for you. And kissing you.” She turns to walk away.
I stare at her back. At her thick, long hair, at her shoulders, at the curve of her lower spine. At her ass. I should let her walk. She’s right-it’d be insane to keep this ruse going.
But the Callahan family is dangerous. Even out here, in Texas, they have reach. They have soldiers.
“Let’s make a deal,” I say before she can run off.
She pauses and looks back. “What kind of deal?” Her eyebrows raise. Her lip curls with intrigue.
“I need your help. Despite what you might think, the Callahan family is serious business. If I can land them as clients, doors will open for me. I’m talking politicians. I’m talking CEOs. This is the next level, Rita. The Callahan family is my way inside.”
It’s what I’ve always dreamed about: the next step toward power. It’s what I’ve always wanted, my friends and I in the Atlas Organization, our little group from college. Me, Eros, Carmine, Ford, and Lanzo. Working for the Callahan family is my best bet at moving up in the world.
From a small-time nothing to this.
But I need Rita. Without her, I can’t make this happen, not after the stupid lie I told.
“What will you give me?” she asks, speaking low. She moves closer, leaning forward. My eyes flick to her tits, back to her lips, and to her eyes again. God damn, what is wrong with me? If she notices, she doesn’t seem to care. “You need me to play wifey. That’s basically insane. What do I get in return?”
“Money,” I say. Her eyebrows raise. “A lot of money. I’ll pay your student loans. I’ll buy you a new apartment.”
“And a new car,” she adds quickly. “Plus new stuff.”
“Fine,” I say, glaring at her. She knows she has the power in this negotiation. “But we’re getting married for real.”
We already are, but I don’t tell her that part.
She stands there for a long, stunned moment. I like that look on her face-total shock and surprise.
She thought this was a game.
But we can’t play pretend. The Callahan family may be a bunch of thugs and thieves, but Orin’s a clever man. He didn’t build the most influential criminal organization on the East Coast by being a fool. He’ll look into my story, and if anything is out of place-
He’ll make us both pay for it.
Which means she needs to be my wife, and it needs to look airtight.
“That’s stupid,” she says, shaking her head. “Marry you for real? Like with an actual wedding? Rings? Marriage license?”
“It’s the only way. I’ll make sure the paperwork gets backdated, but there has to be a record. There has to be-”
“No way,” she says, backing off. Her head shakes quickly, eyes wide. “No, sorry, I can’t do this.”
“Rita-”
“I can’t marry you. Maybe that means I’m homeless, but sorry, Scar. I’m not going to be your wife.”
She turns and hurries away, leaving me alone at the bar, wondering what the fuck just went wrong.