Dirty Package (Book 3): O'Donnell Mafia, #3

By APRIL LUST

This is book 3 and the finale of the O'Donnell Mafia trilogy!

She'd better be ready to handle this dirty package.

Because serving my needs is a full-time job.

And Sadie doesn't have another choice.

If she wants her f**k-up brother to live, she'd better fall to her knees and start throwing herself on my mercy.

But just as surely as I'm working my way inside her, Sadie's working her way inside my inner circle.

Before long, she's got her hands in every corner of my business.

It works better than I ever imagined – at first.

But then we reach a breaking point.

And I learn that the only woman I've ever loved…

Might be dying to bring me down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sopris Page Press
• Release date: Jun 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393645207

Book preview

Dirty Package: A Mafia Romance (Book 3)

By April Lust

She’d better be ready to handle this dirty package.

BECAUSE SERVING MY needs is a full-time job.

And Sadie doesn’t have another choice.

If she wants her f**k-up brother to live, she’d better fall to her knees and start throwing herself on my mercy.

But just as surely as I’m working my way inside her, Sadie’s working her way inside my inner circle.

Before long, she’s got her hands in every corner of my business.

It works better than I ever imagined – at first.

But then we reach a breaking point.

And I learn that the only woman I’ve ever loved...

Might be dying to bring me down.

Chapter One

Sadie

Ididn’t feel any better when I woke up the next morning; in spite of sleeping for nine hours more or less straight through—I’d taken a Unisom—by the time I forced myself out of bed, I had that head-heavy, dry-eyed feeling I’d only ever experienced before when I’d had too much to drink the night before. Then too, I had the lingering soreness between my legs, the ache in my hips, that reminded me of everything that had happened the night before. I went into my kitchen, and started the coffee brewing, but the silence in my apartment made me want to scream.

Some part of me—a stupid, naive part—had thought that I’d step out of my room and maybe see Micah sitting on my couch again, waiting for me. Maybe he’d tell me that he’d been stupid the night before, that he shouldn’t have dismissed what I had to say out of hand. But of course, that hadn’t happened. While I added milk and sugar to my coffee I thought to myself how stupid it was that I’d even entertained the little daydream, no matter how briefly.

If I’d had any doubts that I was out of the loop for good, as far as Micah was concerned, checking my phone told me that he’d decided to stand by his decision. I had one text message, from an unknown number: Don’t come back to Vagabond. I didn’t know for sure if it was from Micah himself, but the threat was definitely clear enough.

It was the weekend, so I didn’t really have anywhere to go; I’d already made the arrangements with Micah for the next week’s sessions for his girls, so I didn’t even have that excuse, that reason to go to him—even if I could justify the obvious risk. How could he be so stupid? It was so frustrating that I wanted to scream in Micah’s face, to shake him. Micah loved Manny like a brother, like a trusted friend—but he had to see that even his trusted friends could screw him, didn’t he?

I tried to eat breakfast, but my stomach twisted itself in knots. I wasn’t sure if I was more upset over the fact that I was out of the business for good, or the fact that Micah was being so stupid about Manny, or the fact that I would probably never see him—sexually—again. I’d really thought, naive as I was, that we had something going; that it wasn’t just hot sex and business but something a little more. You’ve watched too many Lifetime movies, I told myself, picking at my bowl of oatmeal with my spoon, trying to force myself to eat another bite. It was even my favorite kind: maple and brown sugar. But it was impossible.

Maybe I could just wait a couple of days, give Micah time to cool down, and then I could talk to him again. I could text the number I had for him, see if he’d be willing to meet with me, just to arrange more clients for his girls. And if I could make that happen, maybe I could get him to listen to me.

But even before I got too invested in the idea, I knew it would never—ever—work. I couldn’t even really try to get in contact with Micah unless he decided he wanted to talk to me; not unless I had something better to offer, something he didn’t already have in his hands. He wasn’t about to just abandon something he’d decided on because he’d enjoyed having sex with me, and especially if he’d come to the conclusion that—rather than Manny trying to screw him out of money—I was trying to drive a wedge, to make him distrust his own people to further my own status in the organization.

If it weren’t for the fact that I was the one suffering, it could almost be funny; I’d been the one to keep my nose clean, to do things the right way, to obey the law. Chris, my brother, had always been the rascal, the good-for-nothing. He’d screwed up not just because of whatever it was that Manny had been doing—I was convinced of Rob’s story—but also because of his stupidity in even getting involved with Micah Rintley in the first place. And yet I’d been the one who’d gone out of my way to make things right and in the process I’d started up what amounted to my own illegal business with Micah. I’d been more successful at crime than my crime-loving brother for a month, until I’d screwed it up by trying to help Micah out with a problem in his organization.

I wanted to do something, but I had no idea what I even could do. I couldn’t go to Micah again, at least not until I had something to keep him from wanting to kill me. Does he even want to kill you? You don’t know for sure. I knew I didn’t want to risk the possibility that he did.

I put the TV on and tried to think of what it was I could do to figure out the situation. Micah needed me for more arrangements for his girls, so I didn’t think that he could—necessarily—keep me cut out forever, not if he wanted to maintain the access to rich clients that would bring in the most money. But then again, he knew where I worked; I’d told him who I worked with. If he could get me to deliver clients for the girls, I was sure he had his girls working hard to keep the contacts up—to learn about more businessmen from the banking clients they saw. But he doesn’t know about legitimate business—not really, I thought as I pretended to watch an episode of Maury. Imagine him trying to get cards made for them, or something like that—or trying to put together his own website for them. The corporate offices for the bank did most of that for us, but I at least had a working knowledge of the kinds of touches that businessmen looked for.

I had to laugh a bit at myself for even considering things in those terms. It was a totally different world, and while I was sure that Micah would have had a hard time trying to get the kind of clientele for his girls that I’d found for them, I didn’t think at all that he was the kind of guy to try and make it that legitimate, that first class. He hadn’t even really realized how inappropriate and unwelcome his girls’ normal looks would be until I’d told him. He could find someone else, though. Maybe not someone like me—whose brother was on the hook, under threat of death—but Micah was charming enough, rich enough, smart enough to find another woman, another professional who could advise him and maybe even find him similar-caliber clients. I had overestimated my value to Micah; that much was sure.

At the same time, though,