Reaper (Boston Underworld #2)

“I’m not your angel, Ma,” I tell her. “I’m nothing without you. I don’t want to try anymore. Look at me. Look at you. This isn’t frigging fair.”


Ma understands my craziness. She blinks up at me and a tear rolls down her cheek. I wipe it away as my own eyes blur. She knows where I just came from. She hates that I’m trapped in this world and that I can’t get out. I know she worries about me. That’s always been her biggest concern, that I would get out before she goes. But we both know that isn’t going to happen.

Getting away from the MacKenna Syndicate isn’t going to be easy. I know too much. Have seen too much. If I were to leave, I know who it’d be to hunt me down. I don’t want him to be the one to kill me. I could deal if it was anyone else. But not him. I can’t look into his eyes as I take my last breath. That would be even worse than death itself. It would be the most painful way to go. Because this time, after everything that’s happened… this time, I know he wouldn’t stop.

So for now, I just have to put it out of my mind and focus on what’s important. One day at a time, taking care of Ma. That’s all I can do.

I walk into the bathroom to grab a cool cloth. She likes this, and it makes her feel better. The one small comfort I can give her. I place it over her forehead and watch her watching me. Her eldest daughter. Her pride and joy.

“Do you know what, Ma?” I whisper. “You don’t have to worry about me. Because I’m going to get out. And I’m going to move to California. Near Em. Maybe I can help her with her school work, who knows. I could be like her math tutor or something.”

Her lips twitch, and I can almost see her smiling the way she used to. The smile that lit up an entire room. She was always so beautiful, and now, she’s just an empty shell.

“She says the weather is nice there year round,” I continue. “And I have a friend from high school there too. You remember Sarah, right?”

She blinks, but her gaze is fixed on my face, enrapt. Sarah still lives in Dorchester, and she works in a dive bar and has four kids, but Ma doesn’t need to know that. The hardest part of all of this has been for her to worry about what will happen to me and Em. And I don’t want her to worry. I want her to be at peace. I still feel guilty for my emotional outburst earlier, so I keep going.

“She’s an actress,” I tell her. “Says she can get me some work. Nothing fancy, of course. Just some extra stuff. You know the people that sit in cafes in the background or whatever?”

She blinks to signal that she wants me to keep going.

“I’m going to find me a nice boring guy, too. You know, like an accountant or something. He’ll probably drive a Prius and run marathons on the weekend, when he’s not donating to charity or whatever.”

Ma’s lips are twitching again. She either knows I’m full of shit, or she’s buying what I’m selling hard. It’s difficult to tell anymore, but she seems happy. I resolve to tell her this every day until she goes. And then, and only then, will I allow myself to break down and accept reality.

The chances of the Irish letting me leave are grim. But I have to try. Even if it means I don’t make it. At least I can say I tried. Because behind all the makeup and the stilettos and the glitter and hairspray that girl up on stage is done. Done being a pawn in everyone else’s games. Done with men who use and take and do whatever the fuck they want without any consequence.

The best day of my life will be when I never have to see any of their faces again.





Chapter Two




Ronan



Obey.

Be prepared to sacrifice yourself for the benefit of the greater good.

Never surrender. Always resist.

Do not hesitate in eliminating any threat.

Exercise self-control.

Always be well polished and clean.

Continually strive to strengthen body and mind.

Live cleanly. Do not drink, smoke, or partake in sugary substances.

Do not associate with outsiders.

Never question orders.

Always be striving towards the goal of a free nation.

For as long as Ireland is in chains, so too shall you be.





“Crack on with it,” Farrell says.

Glass digs into the skin beneath my knees as I struggle to repeat the core values one more time. I’m thirsty and my tongue is dry so it’s sticking to the roof of my mouth. Farrell’s patience is wearing thin, and if I don’t speak soon, the punishment will be worse.

I stumble over the words and forget which number I’m on halfway through. My eyes are heavy, and I don’t know how many days have passed since I slept. I’m starting to see things. Things that aren’t real, I think.