Convicted: A Mafia Romance (6 page)

“Yes, it would,” I said with a smile. “It would be huge, especially for a newbie lawyer like me.”

Eamon and Hackett were sitting in front of the television, watching a sporting event when we arrived home. From what I could see, it was some kind of mixed martial arts fight and the guys were beating the hell out of each other. Shaking my head at the violence unfolding on the screen, I headed for the kitchen. Meg and I had skipped lunch and I was famished.

“Hey, guys!” I called out. “You want pizza tonight? I don’t feel like fixing anything.”

Meg shouted a ‘sounds good to me’ from the back of the house. The guys didn’t utter a word, though. No surprise there. They still rarely talked, but the scowls had disappeared. I placed a call to one of the local pizza places in town and placed a pick-up order since they didn’t deliver to my area. Twenty minutes. Glancing at the clock, I padded into the living room, blocking the view of the television. A few grunts sounded from the guys.

“I’m heading out to pick up the pizza. I’ll be back in a little while.”

Hackett muted the fight. “You don’t leave without us. You know the rules. The boss always gets his way.”

I placed my hands on my hips, dead-set on taking a stand, but quickly changed my mind at the commanding tone in Hackett’s voice. It didn’t hint at being open to compromise. “Fine! Guess I’ll have a little me time when I’m dead.”

Hackett laughed and punched Eamon in the shoulder, and the three of us headed to the car, leaving Meg at the house. We wouldn’t be gone long but still, leaving her behind bothered me. “What about Meg?”

“Our orders are to follow you around. Meg should be fine until we get back.”

When we arrived at the little hole-in-the-wall pizza place, I ran inside. Eamon and Hackett stood outside, talking by the car. To the regular Joe, they were just two large, scary-looking guys having a conversation, but I could tell they were on high alert. And even though I understood the concerns Davis and Sebastian had, I still wasn’t sure that having bodyguards was all that necessary.

The line at the cash register moved forward and a sinking feeling overcame me in the blink of an eye. One minute, I was smiling at an old couple bickering about what toppings to put on their small pizza, and the next I felt as though someone had sucker-punched me in the gut. Food poisoning? Nope, couldn’t be I hadn’t really ate anything that could cause that. Nerves? Possibly, but I didn’t really feel nervous. I pushed the feeling aside, even though it raged on, making me a little dizzy as I stepped up to the counter. Sweat beaded my brow and I felt flushed. It was such a weird feeling.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to force the strange feeling away. “Pick up for Haven Foster.”

“Yes, ma’am. Two large pepperoni pizzas with mushrooms and black olives.”

“That’s it.”

“Your total is twenty-four dollars and ninety-five cents.”

That niggling feeling intensified as I dug a few bills from my wallet, handing them to the young pimple-faced cashier.

“Keep the change,” I almost shouted as I snatched the pizzas off the counter, losing the battle to remain calm.

Rushing outside, I pushed past Hackett and crawled in the back of the SUV. Hackett gave me a strange look but didn’t say anything until we got on the road.

“What’s wrong? You look freaked out.”

“Something just feels off. I don’t know what, but I feel like something bad is going to happen or something. I’m sure it’s nothing… but I want to get back, just to be safe.”

“You look a little green like you might puke, girl,” Eamon said from the driver seat. “Yell if you need me to stop.”

“Let’s just get back.”

The SUV eased through the quiet neighborhood like a jaguar on the prowl for its prey. Eamon pulled into the drive, the uneasy feeling still with me as I looked upon the house, my heart racing away. From what I could tell from my time with Eamon and Hackett, Hackett was obviously the one in charge. He always seemed to take the lead, and this evening was no different.

Eamon hung back, staying by my side as I wrestled with the food and my purse. My thoughts were all over the place after my meeting with Sebastian, which as deliciously yummy as it was, I was having a difficult time with the feelings and emotions I was having. And having an even greater difficulty making heads or tails of the unsettling anxiety I felt after leaving the house. Whatever the hell it was, I just wanted it to stop. I wanted this case to wrap up in a nice bow, and quickly, so that I could get back to my life and, at the very least, enjoy any perks it led to for my career.

While Eamon stayed with me, Hackett strode to the door, cautious and on guard, his body stiff but moving effortlessly like a trained killer. They hadn’t acted like my nervous feeling was a big deal, but they obviously weren’t taking any chances. I guess men like them learned to trust their instincts.

Eamon stepped in front of me as we neared the house, Hackett gliding through the front door, gun drawn, ready for what, I had no clue. Eamon stepped into the doorway, blocking my view for a heartbeat or two before moving forward. Being the good girl I was, I remained behind him, but close enough so I could feel the heat of his body, my heart banging wildly against my ribs. The house was silent, the only sound I could hear coming from the shower running in the hall bathroom. Hackett returned, giving Eamon a nod that I, for some reason, assumed was an all-clear. Wasting no time, I padded into the kitchen, plopped the pizzas on the counter, and began pulling plates from a nearby cabinet. I was so dang hungry I could eat half the pizza by myself, but I wouldn’t.

“Can one of you guys knock on the bathroom door and tell Meg to hurry up.?” I shouted as I lifted the cardboard lid, my stomach growling as the delicious scents wafted into the air.

“Sure,” Hackett grunted.

I continued plating the pizza, sneaking a few bites of the toppings as Hackett pounded on the bathroom door, his rumbling, deep voice relaying my message. Then nothing. He knocked a few more times with no response. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black case. I watched in utter curiosity as he removed a slim silver instrument with a hook at the end.

He peered in my direction, a look of concern etched across his face as he jabbed the slim little tool into the door knob. With a few quick moves, the lock was disengaged. He spoke in a calm even tone, calling out to Meg as steam billowed from the small bathroom. No response. A shudder licked its way through me as I stood frozen at the kitchen door, a mere twenty feet or so away.

Hackett slipped into the sea of steam, only to back out of the room seconds later. I don’t remember moving, but I found myself at his side within seconds.

“What?” I squeaked, my throat suddenly dry. “Is Meg... is she okay?” Somehow I knew the answer to my question before he even responded. I knew she wasn’t. The look on his face told me everything I needed to know.

“No,” he barked, grabbing my arm as I moved to step inside the bathroom. Tears welled up in my eyes.

Hackett pulled me into his side, easing me back down the hall to the living room where Eamon sat unfazed on the fluffy sofa, watching television. He glanced towards us. “What’s wrong with her?”

“We have a problem. Meg. She’s dead.”

“What?” Eamon sat up instantly.

“Someone got to her while we were gone. I know it’s not our thing, but we have no choice but to call the police in on this one, Eamon. I’ll make the call. You take care of Haven.”

Fifteen minutes later, the police arrived taking over the house like a swarm of locusts. They buzzed about, asking questions and taking photographs of the scene. A couple of detectives questioned the three of us separately. We had no real answers for them. None of us knew Meg personally. All we knew was that she was a lab technician on the team. Suddenly I was engulfed in a sadness that rocked me to my core. She was too young to die. Too young to have missed out on living her life, a life she had barely begun to live. That realization made me sad, but it also made me angry as hell.

A short, thin female detective sat on the couch beside me. I barely gave her a second glance. My thoughts were elsewhere. No matter how much I wanted to believe this was some random attack, I knew it wasn’t. Meg was dead because we left her behind. We... no... I was responsible for her death. I should have waited and demanded that she go with us. It was my fault. Had I been thinking clearly, had I not been wrapped up in thoughts of Sebastian fucking me senseless, she would still be alive.

“It’s my fault,” I whispered, the words rolling out before I could stop them.

“Why is that?” the female detective asked pointedly, as she arched a single brow.

“I left her behind. I shouldn’t have left her behind.”

The officer sat quietly for a moment, not uttering a single word. She did glance at Eamon and Hackett who, for the most part, remained quiet unless asked a direct question. The first officers on the scene had spent very little time talking with us. Hackett had simply told the men that we had returned from grabbing dinner to find Meg’s lifeless body in the shower and called the police.

It hadn’t exactly happened that way, though. We had gone about things as if nothing was wrong. We hadn’t known she was in trouble. All I could think about was if she had laid there dying as I plated slices of pizza. Could we have saved her? There was no way of knowing the answer to that question. Honestly, I didn’t know if I could live with the answer. I pushed back my emotions as best I could, noticing the strange way the female detective – Officer Patrick, I think she said her name was – looked back and forth between Hackett and Eamon, then back at me.

“What is it that brought you here?” Officer Patrick asked.

“We... well, I was here to meet with a client.”

“And Miss Charleston?”

“Meg is... was a lab technician on our team.”

“And who is your client?” She glanced towards Hackett and Eamon. “Then we will get to these two gentlemen.”

“My client is Sebastian Christakos… and these gentlemen are my research assistants,” I said, matter-of-factly, not liking the line of questions or the tone used in the delivery. I might be a newbie lawyer, but I wasn’t stupid by any means.

Obviously growing tired of my short, to-the-point answers to her questions, Patrick turned to Eamon and Hackett. She’d get no more from them than she did from me. Probably even less so. I stifled a laugh as she powered through question after question, getting vague answers that would take her nowhere. I had to give her an ‘A’ for effort. She was one tough woman.

Several hours later, the cops had gone and we… well… I had refused to remain in the house. We checked into a cheap motel just of the interstate. As tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep. So many questions and too few answers clouded my mind, keeping the sleep far away. Was Meg’s murder related to our case? If it was, why did the killer pick her? It didn’t make sense. The only thing she did was draw and test blood and various specimens. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Sitting up lightning-fast, I jumped out of bed, freaking out my personal mafia goons as I raced to my bags. I snagged the receipt from the blood work Meg had overnighted to Austin.

“That’s it!” I grunted, digging my phone from my purse and scrolling through the contact list. I clicked on Davis Jackson and waited.

“Haven?”

“Davis, Meg was murdered tonight. I think the real killer targeted her.”

“Oh my god! How? Why?” Davis asked his voice cracking as he spoke. “It would make more sense to come after the lawyers fighting for his freedom.”

“No. It makes more sense to target those that help procure the evidence to prove his innocence. If I’m right, then this case could get messy.”

“Yes, it could,” Davis agreed.

“Meg overnighted a blood sample to you this afternoon. Let me know when it arrives, and process it as soon as possible. Any luck with your family history search?”

“Not really,” Davis replied. “I’ve extended the search another hundred miles in all directions of the estate.”

“Good. We need to find the sibling… and soon. If he’s our killer, we will need proof of his existence to free Sebastian. I should be in Austin after lunch tomorrow. We can talk more then.”

“Okay.”

We said our goodbyes and I sat at the small table, trying to figure out what Sebastian’s parents might have done with the child. Why would they get rid of one and not the other? I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander through all of the details of the case, hoping and praying for an answer. But I got nothing. Yet.

Chapter Ten - Theron

“Just because two people look the same, doesn’t mean they have the same dreams.”
    

- Brandy Scraps

Jealousy is a fickle bitch. Just when you get a feel for what it is that drives it, it changes. It evolves into something else. It becomes something more than you could have ever imagined. Sometimes it takes days, weeks, or even years before it pushes you to act out the desires feeding your vengeance. That is what happened some six months ago. Longer than that if you count the many months I spent planning my revenge.

It was a lifetime in the making really. They left me no choice.

My jealousy was born of another’s actions. I didn’t know this in the beginning. No. I learned of the truth surrounding my existence many years later. My beginning could have been... no... it
should
have been different. The life I was meant to have was stolen from me. My brother was given everything and I was given nothing.

From the bushes lining the house, I sat in the shadows, oh so still and silent, as the two burly bastards watching over my brother’s young attorney piled into a fancy SUV. I had wanted to kill my brother myself in the beginning, but fate had intervened instead, sending his sorry ass to prison for the murder of his wife. A murder that I had committed. Funny how things work out differently than you expected sometimes.

I could still feel the warmth of Astra’s blood on my skin even now, as I squatted in the dirt, the metallic scent embracing me as I stabbed and sliced my way through her thin little body, the taste of her blood on my lips as the knife arced through the air, hitting home over and over again.