The Killer's Fake Bride (Possessive Dark Mafia)

I was against it at first, but then it started to make sense.

“It could be a trap,” Sam said. “I mean, it’s probably a trap, right?”

“It could be,” I agreed. “But it might not. We need a way to get close to Colm, right? I think this guy could be it.”

Sam sighed, leaning her head back, and nodded. “I know. I don’t want to drag this out longer than necessary, I just wish Nessa weren’t involved.”

“If this goes well, she can be done,” I said. “We won’t need her anymore. This guy, he’ll be the ticket.”

“I really hope you’re right.”

I did too. I had no clue if this would work or not, but we had to try. Every second the war continued was another second that Colm won, because it wasn’t about ending this to him. He didn’t want to push us back or to take our turf. He wanted the conflict, because the conflict strengthened his claim.

Finally, Sam got a text from Nessa saying they were ready. I parked the truck a couple blocks away and we walked to the bar holding hands. Sam was nervous, but she didn’t say anything. She got quiet when she was worried.

The bar was a nice spot right on the edge of UPenn’s campus. It was about as safe as it got, considering the crowd of college kids jammed inside. I doubted any Healy idiots would want to get violent in front of that many rich witnesses, since that’d be a sure way to bring the heat down hard.

I spotted Nessa sitting with a stocky guy, his hair buzzed short, a big frown on his face. Sam went first, hugged Nessa, and nodded at the guy, before sitting down across from them.

“Nessa,” I said, nodding to her, standing at the end of the table. The place had a masculine and industrial feel, with lots of wood and metal, and pictures of boats lining the wall, although I didn’t see a nautical theme. “And you must be Brody.”

Brody grunted at me. “Got to admit, never thought I’d willingly meet with a Valentino prick,” he said.

“Same,” I said. “We good here? Just talk?”

“Just talk,” Brody said. “Sit down before the college kids start staring.”

I took a seat next to Sam. Nessa tried to smile, but it slowly faded away as Brody glared at me like he had a gun under the table. For all I knew, he probably did, although it wasn’t like I came unarmed. I felt the press of my pistol against the small of my back.

“Thanks for meeting with us, Brody,” Sam said. “How’s your mom doing? She still sick?”

“She’s better,” Brody said, looking at her, his face softening slightly. “Treatment’s working, I guess. So she’s better.”

“That’s really great,” Sam said. “Tell her I say hey, will you?”

“Doubt she’ll like that,” he said. “Everyone’s talking about you, you know? Samantha the good Healy girl turned on the family and married a Valentino.” He grunted and shook his head. “Fucked up, honestly, but hey, I’m here so I guess I can’t judge.”

Sam stared down at her fingers, at the rings there, and said nothing. I leaned toward Brody, catching his gaze, as Nessa tugged at her shirt awkwardly.

“I’m here because I want to end the war between our families,” I said, staring him in the eye. “We don’t have to be best friends after it’s all done with, but I want to stop killing each other. Make some sort of arrangement.”

“Yeah, and does your Don want that, too?”

“He does,” I said. “That’s why all this is happening. Don Valentino’s sick of the war, and he’s been sick of it for some time.”

Brody’s jaw clenched. “Fucking Colm. He’s been saying you people wouldn’t negotiate for months now. Fucking bastard’s been lying, hasn’t he?”

“He’s been lying, Brody,” Sam said gently.

“We’re willing to come to terms,” I said. “And not some bullshit, either. We’ll make some small concessions if your family’s willing to meet in the middle.”

He leaned back, arms crossed. “I don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t make any promises. I’m just a fucking soldier. I sling rock and get in fights.”

“I don’t need you to make promises,” I said. “I only need you to get me the one person that can.”

His eyes narrowed. “You want Colm.”

“That’s right,” I said. “He’s the one guy in this whole city keeping your family fighting. All those dead are on his hands as much as they’re on ours. And you know what? I’m fucking sick of people dying. Let’s end this.”

Brody stared at me, his face slack and blank. I couldn’t read him at all, and I suddenly felt like the whole bar was staring and had gone quiet—which wasn’t true, of course. I glanced around, searching for a threat, halfway convinced that the table of co-ed girls sitting behind me were about to turn around and shoot me in the skull. Brody finally rubbed his face with both hands and banged on the table with a fist.