Mad Max (Chicago Crew) Page 11

  Ismerlda in her wedding dress from earlier crosses my mind as Andre nearly drifts the luxury sedan around a corner. I should’ve brought the Lamborghini, and would’ve, had I expected this outcome. I was anticipating my wife being along with me and didn’t think we’d need the extra power to chase after Joker’s quick vehicle. I pride myself on being prepared, but this wedding has had me more distracted than usual.

  Ismerlda was a positively stunning bird, all dolled up today. The pictures we posed for will reflect her perfection and my arrogant good looks. I’m not a tosser. I know women find me attractive. After the wedding service, she’d changed into a less poofy dress, but was still quite ravishing. I’m an arse for walking out on our wedding day, but mob business has to come first where we’re concerned. Syndicate is my life, and that won’t be changing, no matter who my wife is.

  Don’t depend too much on anyone

  in this world. Even your shadow

  leaves you when you’re in darkness.

  – lpatl.tumblr.com

  “And where is the groom? I was hoping to get a moment with you both, perhaps take a photo together.”

  I smile at my aunt and say, “I’m sorry, Auntie, he had to step out and take care of something for a moment. Business never waits, unfortunately.”

  She pulls me into a side hug, murmuring, “You’ve gotten yourself a powerful one. Not quite at the table, but important enough to provide well for you. Your famiglia is proud of you for snagging someone with influence in the city.”

  “Zia, you know we can’t talk about this.”

  She grins and squeezes me a little. She knows far too much, I blame my mother for that bit. “Oh fine, but I had to let you know we’re proud, my love.”

  “Grazie. How about a picture with me? Or is it the handsome face you were really wanting?”

  She cackles and lifts her cell in front of us. We pose with soft smiles and she presses the button, freezing us in time. “I love it! Perfecto, my niece.” My uncle approaches, pressing a kiss to my forehead and congratulating me with a wad of cash before he and my zia head for the bar.

  It’s customary to give outlandish gifts and cash for Italian weddings. In fact, my famiglia would be offended if they found out someone didn’t give me a nice gift or money to wish me well. It’s normal, so I don’t question it when people I don’t know approach me with envelops and wish me well. It’s typical for them to hand the money to the men and the gifts to the women, but since Max isn’t here, it looks as if I’ll collect it all. I don’t mind in the slightest. It’s the least I can get from putting up with his haughty attitude. I’ll have to go on a shopping trip this week to take my mind off things.

  Giovanna leaves Danny with our cousins and heads my way once she notices I’m finally alone. “How are you holding up? The ceremony was perfect. You’re the most beautiful bride.”

  “Honestly?” I shrug. “I don’t know what to think, truthfully. One moment, I’m fine. I’ve always been strong and independent. The next, I’m unsure of what I should be doing here, and wish Max were beside me as a buffer. I feel awkward doing this alone.”

  “I’m pissed off for you at that asshole.”

  “Don’t be. He can’t help it. I knew that about him before I agreed to marry him.”

  “Like hell he can’t. He and Joker are thick as thieves. I have a feeling he could do anything he wanted.”

  I send her a look, brows lifted. “This is what I signed up for. My father warned me, even though I kind of already knew about what to expect, as far as a relationship goes. It’s not a big deal. I should be thrilled I don’t have to put up with his arrogance on such a beautiful day.”

  “Mm.” Her lips lift as she gazes around the room. “It is really lovely in here. They did a wonderful job decorating.”

  I nod. “Zia’s florist is the best. I knew she’d transform whatever space was given to her into a wonderland. It was a relief not to have to worry about any of that. I’d have gone crazy with everything. There’s far more details than I ever imagined.”

  “Yes, a never ending amount. She’s transformed it into a white winter wonderland, but with heat, and a million flowers instead of real snow. This is how all winter should be.”

  I giggle. “Hey, there’s a real ice sculpture! So it’s not all flowers and fluff.”

  “Well yeah, I’d expect nothing less. This wedding is the invite of the city right now. People are salivating for details.” She pretend pouts, murmuring, “I didn’t get an ice sculpture.”

  I tease, “You had an early summer wedding and made us all sweat to death. Ice wouldn’t have lasted. It didn’t in our glasses. Probably why we got so drunk and ended up sick the next day.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatever, it was worth it. By the way, Danny was asking if he can take leftovers home. The food was amazing.”

  I snort laugh. “He’s such a pig. How he stays trim is beyond me.”

  She nods, agreeing. “He is. But he’s got a big dick, so he’s excused.”

  “Ugh, TMI. He’s famiglia. I don’t want to hear about his man parts.”

  “Fine, you asked how he’s able to eat and stay trim. It’s all those pelvic thrusts.” She laughs, and says, “I want to hear all about your new husband’s man parts, so don’t hold back.”

  I shake my head, sharing a grin with my close friend. Life wouldn’t be as entertaining if she weren’t in it. I’m grateful she’s with me today. It definitely makes it less taxing.

  “Have you talked any more about coming back to work after your vacation time is over? I miss you there already.”

  Max is adamant my job isn’t safe. He wants me to stay holed up in the apartment and do any work remotely. It’s ridiculous. I wasn’t raised to be locked away, scared of the possibilities out in the world. Some Mafia famiglias keep their daughters suffocated away until marriage, but my father was never like that. He urged me to follow my heart, and he’s one of the reasons why I’m as successful as I am today.

  “He can bat those soul-sucking irises somewhere else. He won’t sway me on giving up my job. Nor on my independence and anything else I enjoy. Safety measures are one thing, but I won’t stop living my life out of fear. I married him because he promised more safety, so he better work his magic or I’ll follow my own rules.”

  She sips from her flute of crisp, bubbly champagne, brows nearing her hairline.

  “Say whatever you’ve got on your mind.”

  She swallows the frosty beverage and admits, “I was just thinking that his magic better give you multiple orgasms or he’s in for a rude taste of your reality.”

  “Why am I not surprised your mind went there? Your head is always in the gutter.”

  “All I’m saying is you’ve dealt with men below you. Now you’re married to one who’s on the same playing field. If the rumors are true, he’s a masterful lover, and that’s exactly what you need to shake you up a bit. You’ve been ‘work, work, work.’ It’s time you lived in other ways, and Maximillian may be the one to do it for you.”

  I release a sigh. “One can hope, but we have to not hate each other first.”

  “I’ve seen how you treat men you dislike, and he’s not one of them. You may tell yourself you can’t stand him, but the proof is written all over your face when you’re near him.”

  I reach for a fresh flute of champagne from a passing server, as I’ll need it if this is going to be our conversation. I down half of the contents in one quick gulp. I haven’t eaten all day, so this should go to my head quickly if I’m lucky.

  “Will you have children soon?” she continues.

  “Oh God no. You know I’m not anywhere near wanting children, and Max is far too selfish to care for another life. The child would be traumatized by the time it was a toddler. I could never do that to a baby. Besides, you know I’ve never really wanted to have kids of my own.”

  She sets her empty glass down, patting at her lips with a cocktail napkin and tilts her head a touch. “Yeah, but I thought
maybe he’d change your mind. Those babies would be so adorable.”

  “No, they’d be fucking terrorists. It’s one thing him and I actually agree on. Besides, you know what he does for a living. I don’t want to worry about my child’s safety because he’s pissed off the wrong mob boss. I don’t care who it is, they came after my kid, I’d burn the world down.”

  She smirks. “Danny was telling me that if the Joker has his way, he’ll be the boss around town. Maximillian will be sitting top shelf.”

  “Danny shouldn’t talk so much.” She looks hurt so I continue, softening my tone. “It’s how good men lose their tongues, even if it’s only spilling the tea to their wives. You grew up beside me, you know how brutal this life can be. The Mafia never forgets nor forgives you crossing them.”

  Her chin jerks with a quick nod. She murmurs, “I’ll remind him.”

  “Good.” I nod, sending my mother a smile across the room. She’d been watching us the entire time, almost as if she knew what we were speaking of. She’s a smart woman, she had to be, to survive so long within the Five Famiglias. “As for your earlier question, I’ll do what I want, and Maximillian Macintosh can get on board or get out of my way.”

  I tense as I feel a looming presence come up behind me. My arm is lightly brushed, causing my head to whip around and see who has the nerve to get so close, to touch me after Max has growled in every direction. I’m met with the menacing eyes from one of Joker’s faithful crew of merry men. “Can I help you, buttercup?” I hiss hostilely, cocking my head.

  “Tyson,” he offers with a hearty foreign accent that’s definitely not Italian. He holds his hand out, daring me to take it. It’s large, strong, and pretty damn sexy if I’m being real about it.

  I do so, because I refuse to allow anyone associated with my husband feel they have any sort of control or influence over me. He may be taller, but my lady balls aren’t small either. “Tyson,” I repeat, tasting the name. I stare him down, silently letting him know I won’t allow him to intimidate me.

  “Wanted to remind you that your last name is now Macintosh as well. You’re a part of our crew, just as Morelli’s wife is.”

  I silently snort to myself. He’s full of it. “Is that so? Somehow, I doubt it.”

  He cracks a grin that’s more sinister than saint. “It’s up to you how you’re treated amongst us. You’re protected because of Maximillian. Don’t let that imperative detail slip that bright mind of yours.” He flashes his dazzling smile towards Giovanna, momentarily mesmerizing her, before his hand clutches my bicep. It’s firm, but not punishing. “It’s time I escorted you home, Mrs. Macintosh. Your husband will be meeting you shortly, but is handling something right now.”

  “Of course, he is. I can go on my own when I’m ready, and don’t tell me what to do,” I rebuff stubbornly.

  “Come now, Sheila. Don’t make me embarrass you in front of your guests.”

  “Ismerlda.”

  “Right,” he says patronizingly. “That’s what I said. Come along, say your good-byes.”

  I cast my gaze around the room, unsure if I should fight him on it or if he really will cause a scene. “If you kidnap me, I’ll steal your gun and shoot you. I’m not the average basic bitch I’m sure you’re used to,” I threaten.

  Giovanna bursts out in a loud giggle, drawing attention. “Don’t doubt her on it. In fact, if I don’t hear from my cousin within the hour, I’ll alert the entire famiglia that you’re the one who took her.” With that promise, she raises her phone and swiftly snaps a full face shot of him with her camera. “You hurt one hair on her head and I’ll make sure all the dogs in the city are hunting you down.”

  Color me impressed. If this were any other situation, I’d be cheering her on for sounding so protective and confident. I don’t say anything, hoping she can understand the gratefulness reflected in my irises. I pull her in for a quick hug, whispering, “Love you, Gi. Thank you for being here today.”

  “Of course. Call me as soon as you get home and let me know if you’re really okay.”

  I nod. “I will. See you in a few days.”

  I leave her to hug my mother and father good-bye, telling them that Maximillian went ahead of me to make sure everything was safe and prepared for my arrival. It’s not true, but it’ll set their minds at ease as to why I’m leaving my wedding reception without my new husband. My father would understand and eventually forgive Max for it, but my nonna would be putting every Italian curse she could find on him, and I can’t have that at the beginning of my marriage.

  “Are you really taking me home?” I question once we’ve gotten into the foreigner’s Aston Martin Vanquish. Typical rich prick mobile.

  “Your place, yes.”

  “You’re not a Brit like Max, so what are you?” I ask rudely, past any sense of pleasantries.

  “I’m a man, Sheila. I thought that much obvious.”

  “Ismerlda,” I repeat my name for him, curling my tongue. Maybe he’s been hit in the head one too many times to remember it. “And you know what I mean.”

  He nods, keeping his focused on the road. “Aussie, and I know your name. I’m aware of nearly everything there is to know about you.”

  “Is that so?” I pay careful attention to the roads he takes in case he tries to pull a last-minute kidnapping and I have to attempt to dive out of this sports car. I wouldn’t put it past something happening today being that my dear husband has his fair share of enemies and disgruntled past employees.

  “Mm.” He does that annoying thing men tend to pull where they give you a little bit of an answer but not nearly enough.

  “What’s my favorite color?” I attempt to keep him speaking. His accent is just as sexy as Max’s, if I’m being honest with myself. However, I keep him talking because I want to see if he’ll slip up on anything important or lose patience and blurt out any ulterior motives. My father taught me to exercise caution, and it’s kept me safe for the most part.

  “Who cares,” he mutters, and my mouth drops open. Dick.

  “You’re as impolite as Maximillian, aren’t you?”

  The corners of his lips twitch but he fights off the emotion. Time slows in my mind as I stare at him, watching his features twist from almost haughty to one of shock. One arm flies across my chest, bracing me in place as my body’s jerked, my arm slamming into the door, my head smacks into the glass. The sting is immediate, a radiating pain from elbow to shoulder, as well as the side of my head to the top.

  I gasp in disbelief. I was so busy watching the route we were taking, I wasn’t paying any attention to the vehicles around us. What the fuck was that?

  I blink and everything speeds up. Tyson removes his hand and then floors the gas. My head flies backwards, my body sinking into the seat with the force of his speed, and then he’s zipping us around a corner, his gaze flying between his mirror and the road in front of us. This car is so much faster than I’d imagined.

  “What’s happening?” I ask far too calmly, swallowing down the sensation of puke crawling up my throat. I’m freaking out inside. yet somehow I manage to keep it all bottled up and project false composure. My head is throbbing, but there’s time to worry about it later. I need to figure out what in the hell is going on. “Were we just hit?” My voices rises with each word. Fear and anger clouding my vision as the initial pain begins to fade enough that my adrenaline takes over.

  “The goon’s on our arses. Let’s get this sorted later, shall we?”

  “Uh, how about no! Give me your Glock and keep talking, Tyson.”

  He casts me a side-eye silently telling me he thinks I’m crazy.

  “Max knows I can shoot. He had to tell you what I did when he was torturing that guy. I pulled the kill shot. Now stop screwing around. I don’t want to die today!”

  “You better not cap my arse, Sheila. Maximillian will kill me himself for this if you get hurt,” he grumbles. “Right side under my jacket.”

  I release the seatbelt and reach under his su
it near his ribs. I find the holster easily and remove the weapon. The entire time he’s driving like a Nascar racer, zooming in and out between other cars. Horns blare around us and my body sways as he tosses me around while I turn towards the back.

  “Blue, with the right side clipped,” he informs loudly, body tense with stress.

  “Roll down your window and lean forward.”

  “Are you fucking potty?”

  “I don’t know what that means, but no I don’t have to go to the bathroom. Now lean forward and lower your window.”

  “You better not be fucking with me,” he growls, doing as I tell him. I lean over, tucked behind him, using his muscular back as support to get a decent aim. He mumbles to himself, “She’s fucking mad in the head…These two deserve each other.”

  “Slow down,” I practically whisper, concentrating.

  “Christ,” he huffs. The dingy-blue car approaches, close to hitting the driver’s side rear quarter panel when I let off a shot. The gun’s blast is magnified in the tight space, but I breathe through it and apply pressure on the trigger again. The second discharge hits the hood, and the car swerves, not expecting shots to come from us.

  “Yes! Bastardos!” I cheer to myself and aim for the front tire. I miss as the car jerks the wheel back in our direction. The bullet hits the front grill and the car begins to slow. The passenger leans out his window, raining shots in our direction. I scream, surprising Tyson. His big body jolts as I yell, “Go fast! Now, they’re—” I don’t finish as a bullet hits the rear window and glass shatters, flying all over the place.

  “Christ! Get down!” he orders and I do at first, but then pop my head up, using the rear as my new window.

  I pop off multiple shots, nailing the passenger with at least one. It doesn’t take long before Tyson is hauling ass, leaving the other car behind. “We did it!” I cheer, wearing a wide smile.