The Killer's Fake Bride (Possessive Dark Mafia)

“I’m sure,” I said, glancing down the street. I recognized several cars along the block. “Don Valentino sent backup.”

She chewed her lip and looked around, but only sighed. The neighborhood sloped up a hill and ended at a small college at an intersection lost in a small copse of trees called Arcadia. I pushed to have the meeting there, but Colm insisted on someplace inside, and I couldn’t blame him. He probably figured we’d try to kill him, if he were out in the open.

And he was right, we probably would.

I pushed in through the door and into the pub. Sam followed close, right on my heels. I could almost feel her anxiety as we stepped into the dark place. Signs hung from the ceiling, small signs from local businesses, some of them no bigger than a business card. The walls were plastered in posters and flyers for more local spots, and some of them looked at least fifty or sixty years old. There was a bar on the left and booths ringed the room on the left and all the way around to the other side. It was smoky, though nobody was actually smoking—the place probably felt perpetually filled with cigarette stink. The chairs at the bar were green, vinyl, and ancient, and the whole place was cramped and surprisingly crowded.

A cheerful waitress with short dark hair waved. “Grab a seat anywhere,” she said. “I’ll be with you folks in a second.”

“Thanks,” I said, craning my neck. “But I think I see my friends.”

She shrugged and went back to filling a drink order as I pushed forward. The patrons ignored us as I went around the bar to the far side and headed toward where Colm Healy sat with young man with dark black hair and freckles across his nose. I recognized him as Shaun Healy, one of the many young Healy cousins and another freaking Sean or Shawn or Shaun, and one of the more aggressive men in the family.

It wasn’t a good sign, if Colm brought him.

I approached, hands by my side where they could see them. Both men were hunched over a beer. Shaun glared at me, then practically snarled at Sam, but Colm grinned broadly and stood.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” he said.

“I figured this was neutral enough ground.”

“And it helps that your Don sent a bunch of men to surround the place.” Colm laughed, shaking his head. “Not like I didn’t do the same.”

“He’ll respect the truce if you do.”

Colm gestured toward the seats next to him. “Come on and sit,” he said. “Have a drink. It’s not every day you can drink with the enemy.”

Shaun sat on Colm’s other side, glowering at us the whole time. I ordered a whiskey and Sam asked for a Coke. The bartender returned with the drinks as Colm eyed Sam happily.

“No alcohol for you?” he asked, then sighed. “I suppose not. Wouldn’t be good for the baby.”

Sam didn’t look at Colm. She stared straight ahead, like the man didn’t exist.

“Why don’t you leave her alone and talk to me,” I said.

“That girl’s my niece,” Colm said softly, eyes narrowing. “I can speak to her whenever I wish. You’re not a part of this family, even if you did get your kid in her belly.”

“We’re not here to talk about me, Uncle Colm,” Sam blurted out and finally looked at him. “Matteo wants to talk about peace. You know, that thing you always insist the Valentinos don’t want.”

Colm’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, peace, is it?” He laughed and shook his head. “I find that hard to believe. The last time we spoke peace, my brother ended up dead. Too bad I have a lot of brothers, but still.”

“That’s not true,” I said through a clenched jaw. We did kill one of his brothers, but it wasn’t during peace talks.

Colm waved that away as if it didn’t matter, and I got the sense that he was performing for Shaun, who only sat there drinking and barely glanced in my direction.

“If it’s peace you want, then what’s the price for it?”

“Don Valentino’s willing to offer you a truce. Terms are simple. You stay on your side of the Schuylkill, and we stay on ours. No more fighting for turf. No more encroaching on our territory. No more bodies.”

“I see,” Colm said, nodding. He sipped his drink. “You think that’s worth it, then?”

“I think you have no chance to take ground from us. You haven’t been able to do it yet and I doubt you’ll ever have the strength.”

“Think again,” Shaun snarled, but Colm held a hand up like he was telling a dog to heel, and Shaun shut his mouth.

“Go on,” Colm said.

“We could move into West Philly, but we don’t want to waste the lives to do it,” I said, ignoring the death stares I got from Shaun. “Business is good in the rest of the city, and fighting for some scraps isn’t worth our time.”