Chapter 7
seven
It is all coming together. The morbid pieces of my mother’s death slip into place section by section.
Piece by piece. There are so many years of my life I have let slip by, never wondering about her death or my ‘father’s’ mysterious appearance.
I questioned none of it as a child, and even as I grew, I simply accepted the life fate handed me.
Until Matthias pulled the wool back from my eyes.
Well, Mark did, but I would never have had the opportunity if Matthias hadn’t bought me.
Semantics.
Teeth dig into my lower lip hard enough to bleed as the scene comes together.
The pictures strewn cohesively on the floor make up my mother’s dead body as it was found the day of her murder.
Crouching down, I inspect every inch of every photo until I find what I am looking for.
A bruise, just barely visible on her cheek due to the poor lighting of the photo.
A bruise in the shape of a cross.
Libby wrote that the silver crossed man sent a woman after Elias’s obsession years ago and then ranted about how he came back with her spawn.
He was talking about my mother and me.
So, the man we haven’t identified yet didn’t know at the time my mother was murdered that she had a child.
How did Elias find out? And who is the woman the man sent to kill her? The presence of the bruise shaped like a cross tells me that it is someone in the upper echelon of whatever secret society Madam Therese and the McDonough doppelg?nger are a part of.
Another player we need to identify.
“This.” I point out the weird bruise to Aine. “I didn’t see this documented on the autopsy report.”
Aine shakes her head. “No,” she confirms. “There were several anomalies with not only the autopsy but also the crime scene itself.”
Liam frowns. “What do you mean anomalies?”
“Well,” Aine starts. “Besides the cross shaped bruise, both the detective on the case and the coroner left out that it was a woman who committed these crimes. Not a man.”
“A woman did all that?” Vas waves a hand at the photos of my mother. Aine nods.
“Whatever she was hit with is long and cylindrical,” she informs us. “Something covered in a black lacquered paint and metal.”
“Like a cane.” She doesn’t need to confirm what I already know.
“Like a cane,” Aine confirms. “Then, there is this.”
The Irish woman pulls out her cellphone and presses play. The footage is old and grainy, but there is no mistaking the size and height of the figure getting out of the car and walking up to our door.
“This is an Irish neighborhood, and there are cameras everywhere. The police got this off the house across the street, but it never saw the light of day. It isn’t even documented as being in evidence.”
“Why does she look so familiar?” I wonder. The black and white footage makes it difficult to determine hair or car color, and the distance and angle of the camera doesn’t help in identifying any traits that might stand out.
“There’s a license plate, but we haven’t been able to link it back to anything yet,” Sully sighs. “Your hacker might have better luck.”
I nod, but my mind is completely on the woman in the video. There is a tugging at the back of my mind that speaks to familiarization. Like I have somehow met her but never seen her. A face in a crowd of hundreds you think you see again a few days later.
Déjà vu is another word for it.
“Was Jonny Morelli the only officer on this case?” I turn to Aine. “You said he is dead.”
“Yeah, fucker committed suicide a few years ago,” she says. “IA found him working for some Italian mafia type here in the city. Caruso.”
Vas snarls. “Fucking Cosa Nostra,” he spits. “Leon’s been working on getting info from the Seattle Don, but it’s been slow going, even for him.”
I turn to Vas. “Why do you say, even for him?” I ask, suspiciously.
“Well.” Vas rubs the back of his head, looking a bit uncomfortable. “You know that Leon is Italian…”
“Yeah? So? I thought maybe he used to work for Dante.”
Vas flinches.
“No,” he sighs heavily. “Leon’s last name is La Rosa.”
You can hear a pin drop.
That is how quiet the room becomes as everyone around me stares at Vas with utter shock painted across their faces.
And here I stand like a fucking idiot trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.
“Who are the…?” I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence.
“La Rosa?” My father’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “Your obshchak is Leon La Rosa? Son of Augustu La Rosa? Don of the west coast Cosa Nostra? The butcher? The…”
“We get the point, dad.” I’m not sure which part startles him more. Leon’s family tree or my calling him dad.
Either way, he is left speechless for a few minutes while his mouth hangs open like a guppy fish.
“Is that where he has been this whole time?” I question Vas. “Is Dima with him? Or is he out visiting his own family with prominent mafia roots as well? Who’s his father? Putin?”
Vas doesn’t find me amusing.
Whatever, it was a good line.
“Don’t worry about Dima,” he scolds. “He is fine and yes, that is where Leon has been. We discovered some ties between your grandfather and the Portland Cosa Nostra. Leon thinks he can gain some insight and maybe even an alliance, but he’s having a hard time of it.”
“Why?”
“His father is only willing to help if he gains from it.”
“What does he want?”
“An alliance.”
“With us?” I ask. “I have no problem with that.”
“A marriage alliance.”
Nope. Nada. Isn’t happening.
“I’m taken.”
“You’re widowed.”
“And not into a man who came out of the womb wearing a suit.”
“Could be worse.” Vas shrugs with a smile. “Augustu could have wanted you to marry him instead.”
I think I just throw up in my mouth a little.
“I’ll pass.”
Vas chuckles.
“It’s okay.” He shrugs playfully. “You were never on the table anyway.”
I blow out my lips. “Whatever,” I huff. “I’m a great catch. Tell him about how many crazy psycho’s I have after me. He’ll change his mind about me not being a hot commodity.”
“I thought you said you’d pass?”
“Well, I mean, yeah.” I shrug. “But I don’t like not being considered. That’s just rude.”
“Okay.” He draws the word out, sarcasm leaking from every syllable. “I’ll write him a formal rejection letter for you.”
“Much obliged.” I grin up at him forgetting that there are other people watching our banter.
“It is good to see you two work well together.” Sully smirks. “There were many of us who wondered how it would affect the pyramid of power having a woman as a Bratva leader.”
“Women can lead just as well as men,” I point out. “Even better if you pay attention to the history books.”
“Hey now.” Sully holds up his hands. “That wasn’t what I was saying. Just that you are the first female to hold the title of Pakhan in Bratva history. Not surprising though. Your mother was set to inherit the Boston Irish from her father. Leadership runs in your blood.”
Now I am confused.
“I thought she was going to be here with you?” I turn to my father. “Weren’t you set to inherit the Seattle Irish?”
“There was no Seattle Irish, Ava,” he says. “My father and I built it up after your mother disappeared.”
“But you said you inherited it from your father.”
“I did.” He stares at me. “Your grandfather, my father, was Seamus’s top lieutenant.
I begged Seamus to bring me men, but he wouldn’t have any of it.
In hindsight, I should have read more into that.
Seamus loved your mother. Doted on her. So did your grandmother. But I was drowning in pain and sorrow.”
“And booze,” O’Malley mutters. There is a story there I will get my father to tell me later.
“Those too,” he admits shamefully. “I missed them. All those fucking signs being waved in front of my face, and I missed every single one. When he refused to send aid, my father defected and took more than half of McDonough’s army with him.”
“Half?” Pride and warmth bubble in my chest. “That had to be more than a hundred people.” My father and brothers now have more than five hundred loyal soldiers.
“More like two.”
“But why?”
“Because your mother was a beacon, Ava,” Sully speaks up. “It wasn’t just information your mother gave to my father. Your mother was pure Irish Mafia. Straight from the homeland. Your family, the McDonough’s, led the Boston Irish since its inception.”
“So? How does that make her a beacon?”
“Because she wanted change,” my father answers for him. “Genuine change. More opportunity for Irish immigrants. She wanted to make us legit. All of us, across the country, making legitimate livings.”
“No more drive-bys’,” Sully lists somberly. “No more being knifed in a dark alley or shot at while delivering dope. No more prison sentences. We would still work in the shadows, but instead of running guns and drugs, we would build casinos. Launder money.”
“So not quite legit,” I deadpan. But it doesn’t bother me. You can domesticate a lion, but the savage beast will always lurk just beneath the surface.
“More legit than we’ve ever been.”
“Even more motive than before,” Aine ponders a thought, her finger tapping against her chin thoughtfully. “Does the file contain the names of everyone at the north precinct who worked on her mother’s case?”
Sully nods. “Yep,” he confirms. “Some of them are dead. Tragic accidents, according to my father. But the coroner, the chief of detectives, and the evidence officer are still alive and thriving. In fact, they lead some pretty cushy lives now.”
“How cushy?” my father asks suspiciously.
“Chief of detectives is now the chief of police. The coroner is now the chief medical examiner, and the evidence officer owns a security company here in the city.”
Vas perks up at that.
“Which one?”
“Platinum Solutions.”
Vas’s smile drips with malicious intent, eyes flashing dangerously.
“Excellent,” he crows. “I’ve been needing a reason to take them down.”
“Would you like to fill me in?”
Vas’s smile drops.
“Well…”
Liam barks a laugh. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”
“Tell me what?” Why the hell do I always feel like I am out of the loop on everything?
“Um…”
“Start talking, you hippie haired Russian,” I snarl.
“Platinum Security is our firm's greatest rival in the security industry.”
“Our firm?”
“Yeah…” Vas hesitates. “Arctic Security and Associates.”
“I thought that company was just a cover?”
“In a way it is.” He winces.
Liam snorts. “It’s a multi-billion dollar cyber and protective security agency with contracts in over fifty countries. The associate part is the law firm they run as well.”
“What the hell, Vas?” I screech at him. “When were you going to tell me I inherited a billion-dollar company?”
“Multi-billion…” Liam smirks at Vas, who glares at him like he can shoot laser beams from his eyes and melt him into a pile of goo.
“Tomas wanted me to wait,” Vas explains, his eyes still narrowed at my father. “He didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many responsibilities. Being Pakhan was more important first. Maksim and Nikolai have been running Arctic behind the scenes for a while. Before you even married Matthias.”
“Oh.”
When he puts it that way, I can see how letting me adjust to one role before taking on another is wise. I am barely keeping up with being Pakhan and adding public CEO to my list would only make things harder for me. Especially since we are in the middle of a war.
“Well.” I beam at him and slap him on the back. Vas turns to me bewildered. “Now that we have all this settled. Let’s go torture some people and make them pay.”
“After we get answers of course,” my father, the killjoy, reminds me.
“Yeah.” I shoot him a ‘duh’ look. “Torture them…that’s what I said.”
“Torture is never highly effective for getting answers,” he educates me. “But—” he shrugs, ignoring my icy glare. “Okay.”
“And I thought our family was messed up,” Aine grunts amused. Sully laughs as we all make our way out of the house.
“Oh, kid,” he shakes his head. “You have no idea.”