Rake: A Dark Boston Irish Mafia Romance (The Carneys Book 1) - Sophie Austin Page 0,7
be too scared after, well, you know.”
“You’re the one who took the beating,” Gary says. “I’d feel like a piece of shit if I gave up after what you’ve been through.”
Didn’t feel shitty enough to take this case on, though.
While I still respect the work Gary does, the starry-eyed esteem I had for him is long gone. He always looks guilty when he talks to me, and I find it kind of pathetic. It’s hard to believe that I used to have a crush on him
“Well, we have a leak somewhere. Someone’s informing on the staff, so we’ve had to be really careful. Switch up where we meet. Only discuss matters in person. But I sent the application to the National Labor Relations Board today. James Carney will be served with the legal notice on Monday.”
He won’t like that. A tremor of fear passes through me.
The police haven’t found the men who assaulted me. They checked in with James Carney after I told them that his goon had warned me off organizing his staff. Nothing stuck to him, of course.
He’s got half the city in his pocket anyway.
It’s another reason why I want to finish what I started. If I can’t get justice in one way, I’ll get it in another.
“That’s incredible, Sasha!”
I offer a wan smile to Gary. It’s more than he deserves. “It’s another beginning. We’ll still have to get the staff through the election process, and if Carney doesn’t crush that, through the negotiations. Still, it feels like a victory.”
“It absolutely is. You should be proud. No one would’ve faulted you for running the other way.” Gary pauses, that shadow of guilt crossing his face again. His gaze drifts to the window. “Shit, it’s really coming down now. Looks like this storm’s going to dump about a foot of snow. Won’t be long before the busses won’t be able to make it across the Mystic Bridge.”
It’s time for me to get going, then. I need to get to the grocery store. By the time I’m ready to leave work, it’s close to white-out conditions—impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you. I need to get the bus back home to Everett. I don’t have a car, but I wouldn’t drive in this snow anyway.
My office, like the casino, is in Charlestown, just across the river from home. Only a few miles, but a world of difference. Charlestown has gentrified in a way Everett hasn’t. Everett is still a very blue-collar city, overly packed with people, and home to all of the industrial blights no one else wants in their backyard, like the liquified natural gas terminals.
If those ever blow, they’ll take Carney’s casino with them.
That’s a satisfying thought.
I turn off my space heater, bundle up, and trudge out into the snow. It’s a quick walk to the bus stop. My shin starts its familiar ache. It’s annoying, but I’m lucky that’s the worst physical souvenir I retained.
I woke in Mass General Hospital two days after the assault. I hadn’t been found until early the next morning, and I’d been lucky to survive that long given all the internal bleeding and the swelling in my brain. My doctors were stunned I not only survived, but with time and physical therapy, made a full recovery.
There’s a scar on the back of my wrist from where the nylon cord shredded my skin to the bone, but it feels like a friend to me. It knows what we went through.
My shivering intensifies, and it’s not from the cold. There’s no one lingering around the bus stop, but something’s set off my fear response.
Is it real this time? It’s only six o’clock in the evening, but the dark of winter and blustery snow makes it hard to see clearly. I hate not being able to differentiate if my gut is telling me something important, or if it’s something completely innocuous triggering my PTSD. I thought only soldiers got that, but my doctors tell me it’s a very real thing for people who went through what I did. I can’t remember any of the coping mechanisms they taught me right now, though.
Bile rises in my throat. My senses heighten as the world around me slows. I can’t stay here. I need to move.
That’s fine. I can climb up the hill toward home and walk until the bus catches up with me. Being on the move usually calms some of the panic.