Bratva Beast by B.B. Hamel
Fiona
Icaught a glimpse of myself in the bar mirror as I poured a beer. I looked exhausted, my hair flat, big bags under my eyes. I wasn’t surprised—it wasn’t easy trying to sleep in a room next to Mack, knowing he could cross that line any time he wanted and break in through the door. He could pin me down on the bed, a massive shadow in the black night, his hands pressing me hard onto the mattress as he stripped my clothes off, spread my legs roughly, and plunged himself—
“Hey, cousin, you fucking daydreaming or what?”
I cursed and turned off the tap. Beer had spilled over into the sill plate and pooled. “Sorry,” I said, wiping off the side of the glass, and handed it over.
Donal squinted at me and sipped the foam off the top. “I feel like you haven’t been around much. Where’ve you been?”
I shrugged, glanced over his shoulder toward where the other cousins sat at a table, drinking and getting rowdy. Ferris and Tully were both there, and Tully studiously pretended like I didn’t exist.
“Around, working mostly. You haven’t been coming in.”
Donal grinned huge. “Got a promotion. Been running a little crew of my own.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Good for you. I always thought you were destined to clean the toilets for the rest of your life.”
Donal laughed. He had a good smile, straight teeth, a good-looking Irish boy. He would’ve been exactly the kind of guy my father wanted me to marry.
Except I had zero interest in him.
“Been moving on up in the world. You’d be proud of me, if you were ever around. You should come hang out on the block soon, maybe after you get off tonight?”
I shrugged a little. “Yeah, sure, maybe.”
“That doesn’t sound very promising.”
“I’ve just been busy, you know?”
“Mysterious too. Come on, Fiona, what’s your deal? Ever since you moved out of your old man’s place, it’s been like you don’t want to be in the family anymore.”
I looked away, down at the other end of the bar. How could I explain to him that I hated the family, hated my father, and hated what he was turning into? Donal was okay now, but sooner or later, he’d become just another Doyle asshole, way too far gone to ever come back.
I didn’t want that for myself, and I didn’t want it for him or for any of the young cousins.
But there was nothing I could do to save him. There was never anything I could do.
I’ve been powerless my whole life.
“It’s not like that. I’m just busy, you know? Trying to keep my shit together. Bartending isn’t exactly making me rich.”
“Which is why you gotta come back to the family. Look, I know you and your old man don’t get along, but still. You’re a catch. Lots of the guys say so.”
I smiled at him a little. “Really?”
“Seriously. Especially little Tully. Always going on about how hot you are ever since you dyed the tips of your hair red. He likes that rebellious shit.”
I laughed and looked over at Tully. He glanced back at me, blushed a little, and quickly looked away as if he knew what we were talking about.
But that wasn’t it. No, he blushed because he knew I pried information out of him that I had no right knowing. My laughter and my smile slowly faded away.
I’d never be in the family again. It’d never be normal, not ever. Even if normal was comfortable.
“Well, I’ll think about coming out, all right?”
“You do that.” Donal flashed me another charming grin then walked off to rejoin the others.
I turned my back on them and busied myself straightening up the bottles and cleaning off glasses. If I watched those guys too closely, I’d catch a glimpse of what my life could’ve been like if Connor never got kidnapped, or if my father wasn’t such an abusive monster.
I could’ve been like those guys and the girls that hung around them.
Instead, I was an outsider. A powerless outsider.
The door opened and someone sat down at the bar where Donal had been standing a minute earlier. I turned toward him, forcing myself to be slightly friendly—
But my kindness quickly faded away.
Renzo grinned at me. “Hey, kiddo.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked, looking around in a panic.
The only Doyle guys were the young cousins at the table, and I doubted any of them knew who Renzo was.
But this was dangerous. Really stupid and really dangerous. My hands shook and sweat back out across my palms.
“Thought I’d stop by and chat a little. Hey, I’ve missed you lately. Connor sends his regards.”
I let out a hissing breath and leaned toward him. “You can’t come in here. My family—”
“Fuck your family,” he said, staring at me, his avuncular bullshit fading away. “Don’t forget who you really work for.”
“What do you want?”
He grinned again and scanned the bottle behind me. “Got anything good? Whiskey, something aged and expensive. And don’t worry, I’m a good tipper.”
I stared at him. “You’re not drinking here.”
He sighed dramatically. “Suit yourself. I’m nicer when I’m drinking, but all right.” He raised his eyebrows. “Hey, I meant to show you something. God, it almost slipped my mind.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped at it, swiped a few times, then held it up.
It was a picture of Connor, tied to a chair.
He was beaten bloody. His eyes were bruised and swollen shut and his lips were cracked. Blood was splattered on the floor around him, sprinkled on the concrete like rain.
I covered my mouth to keep myself from screaming.
Renzo casually put the phone away. He watched me carefully, like he was savoring my reaction.
I lowered my hands and bunched them into fists, squeezing.
“If you keep hurting him like that, he won’t last very long. Then what the fuck are you going to do, asshole?”
Renzo laughed. “Find someone else to torture and blackmail, I expect.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because you need motivation. My Don wants to know how many men the Doyle family are sending, and it’s up to you to provide that information.”
“I can’t get that for you,” I said desperately, trying to keep Connor’s mangled face from my mind.
God, poor Connor. Beaten bloody his entire life.
And I was still so powerless to help him.
“You’ll have to try or else I’ll show up with more pictures. And body parts. Don’t forget the body parts.” Renzo laughed and slapped the bar. “Find out how many men are going to be at this drop.” He stood up and stretched his neck. “It was lovely seeing you again.”
He walked off and left without a word. I caught a look from Donal, a cocked head and a frown, but I just ignored him and turned away.
I was shaking, trembling. Connor, beaten and bruised. And that bastard Renzo still using me.
The bar suddenly felt small and suffocating. I could breathe, couldn’t get air. The place was closing in on me, like a closet stuffed with old clothes.
Leather on naked flesh.
I pushed out the side door and hurried along the back hallway. I stepped outside into the alley—
And Mack was there already.
“Renzo,” I whispered.
Mack grabbed me by the waist and pulled me against him. He held me tight as tears ripped from my chest and throat. I cried into his shirt, heedless of the mess I was making. I couldn’t keep it down, couldn’t suppress it anymore.
I’d failed Connor so many times and I was going to fail him again.
I hated myself for this. Hated that I let Renzo control me and hated that I was so powerless to make it all stop. Connor didn’t deserve any of this.
If anything, I should’ve been locked in that basement.
I should’ve been tied to that chair.
It should’ve been my room that my dad came into every night. My back, ripped open and bloody.
And it wasn’t, it never was, because I was a coward.
I slowly calmed down in Mack’s embrace. He made me feel protected at least, even if that protection was only an illusion, and only while he was around.
But he couldn’t be everywhere all the time.
“What did he want?” he asked, brushing my hair aside and wiping my eyes.
“Showed me pictures of Connor. Wants to know how many men will be at the shipment.”
He let out a breath. “Is your brother okay?”
“Beaten up, but I think he’s alive.”
“That’s good then. Bruises heal. Can’t come back when you’re dead.”
“What are we going to do? How am I supposed to keep going when I know they’re hurting him?” The anger and sorrow caught in my throat and I forced myself to swallow it down.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“My shift—”
“Fuck your shift. You can tell your boss you felt sick or something. Come on, let’s go back to my place.”
I blinked up at him, seeing his face through my tears. He stooped down and kissed my cheek softly.
“I’m afraid for him, Mack. I’m really afraid.”
“I promise I’ll get him back. If I have to tear this city into pieces, I’ll make it happen. Do you believe me?”
And for some strange reason, I did.
I saw him kill twice for me. I watched him beat a man to death with a baseball bat and shoot a giant in the skull. He tore his life into pieces for me, and now I had to trust him, even though I’d grown up not trusting anyone.
Mack was my chance. He was the only way.
I got up on my toes and kissed him with a depth that surprised me.
His tongue pressed into my mouth with a hunger, like an assault. I chewed his lip and let his hands move down my body.
I let him cup my ass and squeeze me tight against him.
I felt his cock stiffen against me and I let out a soft gasp.
His kiss was tender and terrible, like he wanted to rip me open and drink my insides—and there was some crazy, bleak part of me that wanted exactly that.
He could take my pain away. He could make me feel something better.
All I had to do was ask.
I pulled back, bit his lower lip hard, then stared into his eyes. “Take me home.”
He didn’t say anything. Only grabbed my wrist and dragged me along behind him.
