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Drama Thriller Contemporary

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

“So it was all a lie. I fell into your little trap. Now what?” He held the gun to her head. His henchmen circled her, eagerly palming their own Glocks. 

The warehouse was nestled between an old decommissioned tobacco factory on the Southside and the newly minted ‘St. Bernadine Dog Park’ that closed at sunset, almost two hours ago. She chose this spot because it has two exits, each currently guarded by one of Macguire’s armed brutes, and a large skylight overhead. 

“Well,” she said, adjusting the collar of her favorite burgundy trench coat. A gift from an old friend. She gave off a practiced nonchalant air, not at all bothered by the gun in her face. “Now that the jig is up, will you at least let me tell my side of the story?”

Macguire’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Mafia bosses are used to crying and pleading from their victims, not calm acceptance. “Who were you working for?” He said in his rich Irish brogue. The man left Ireland 30 years ago but you wouldn’t know it the first time you met him.

“Oh no,” she tsked, “The story starts waaaay before that.” She waved away his gun. He put it down but eyed his men to make sure they stayed alert. 

She continued, “You see, my father—You’ve met him. Tall, lanky guy, went by the name Dirty Henry? Really into his Westerns, or so I’m told.—Your predecessor killed him when I was 2.” She held two fingers up beside her exaggerated frowny face. “I’m actually named after his grandmother—my father’s, not your predecessor’s,—Oh yeah, my name’s Mara, by the way, not Kelly—”

“What does all this have to do with me? O’Conor’s dead. Did ‘im in myself. The debt’s paid.”

“I’ll get there.” She rolled her eyes heavenward, “Jeez, you Irishmen are so impatient.” 

That got the men around her twitching. She hurried along. “So anyway, my father was doing business with your crew—a little wash and go here and there—, but what you all didn’t know is that he was also working for the Russians.” 

That gave Macguire pause. “That’s impossible. O’Conor was a paranoid motherfucker. He thoroughly vented all his vendors. There’s no way that would’ve gotten past ‘im. “

She nodded, stepping around the circle of men, looking each one in the face. Most of them had flat, bored expressions. Two of them seemed anxious for Macguire to let go of the leash. They were keen to tear her to pieces. Bloodthirsty savages. She winked at them before moving on. 

“Ya know, that’s something I never figured out: Whether or not O’Conor knew about my father’s mixed alliances. My best guess is he found out Dear Old Dad was playing both sides and whacked him.” She sighed and placed her hand on her chest with feigned heartbreak. 

Macguire scowled at her theatrics. That was 20 years ago. There’s no way she was still crying over a man she didn’t remember. In a way, he was right.

“When your former boss killed Dirty Henry, he left a mountain of debt with the Russians. And guess who had to pay it?” She looked around at the henchmen’s unimpressed faces, then stepped up to meet Macguire’s pointed look. 

“Not me!” She said, aghast, “I was a baby! Even the Russians aren’t that cruel, plus they didn’t want to wait for repayment. My mother, on the other hand,…,” She glanced up, forlorn, then quickly looked back into Macguire’s eyes. “...wasn’t a baby. She had to whore herself to the Russians to keep us alive.”

Macguire’s face went blank. This was nothing new to him. Mafiosos routinely extracted a pound of flesh when money wasn’t an option. Either a bullet between the eyes or a moment between the sheets. In her mother's case, it was thousands of moments. It’s how they got her little brother, Sasha, and baby sister, Ana.

Mara circled Macguire, hands linked behind her back. He turned to keep her in sight but let her move beyond his henchmen’s reach. Either way, he had her surrounded. There’s nowhere she could go. “When I got old enough —13,14—, I cut a deal. In—”

Suddenly, a rain of glass fell from the sky. Shots fired from above. Macguire didn’t know what hit him until it knocked him on his ass. Two bullets to the chest, another must’ve nicked the femoral artery in his left leg. He was bleeding out quick. His henchmen weren’t doing much better.

When things quieted down, Mara kneeled at Macguire’s side. She patted his paling cheek to get his attention. “I cut a deal. In exchange for my family’s freedom, I agreed to take you out. But you’re a paranoid fucker too, aren’t you? I knew the only way you’d lower your guard is if you were getting some. A piece of ass less than half your age? Irresistible. Finding out that piece was stepping out on you? Infuriating.” 

She narrowed her eyes. Let him see the disgust clear as day on her face. “You big, bad, mafia men are all the same.” She slapped his face once more as his last breath ran out. Good riddance. 

She walked towards the exit, inspecting her coat for blood splatters. Halfway there, a blonde man with icy blue eyes stepped in her path. She glared at him. “Dimitri. Took you long enough. You’re lucky I know what I’m doing. He almost got away.”

Dimitri ran his eyes up and down her form, took in the bit of blood on her boot—courtesy of Macguire—, and invaded her personal space with an intense look in his eyes. “You alright?” His voice was slow, deep, and growly. It hadn’t always been that way. She remembered when they were kids his voice was sweet. His manner relaxed and playful. That boy had been her best friend until he was sent back to the motherland for reconditioning. She didn’t know this man.

“I’m good.” She ground out. “Two more minutes, though, and I might’ve been shish kebab meat.”

He stretched his neck, flexed his shoulders, but maintained eye contact. “You know, we couldn’t be here when Macguire’s men searched the building for your lover. I got here as soon as I could.”

She held his stare for a minute until his Cleaners walked by. Her cue to get lost. “Fine, whatever. The debt is paid. Tell your father we’re done. I don’t work for you anymore.” She held his gaze for another second. He looked like he had something to say but she didn’t care. 

“See you in the next life.” She threw over her shoulder as she strolled out the main entrance. Dimitri’s heated gaze followed her the whole way home.

March 16, 2023 23:10

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2 comments

Tricia Shulist
00:13 Mar 21, 2023

Ha! Hard-boiled femme fatale at 22. She’s an interesting character. I get the impression that she will be a reoccurring character in future stories. She could have a lot of adventures, being fearless and pragmatic at the same time. Thanks for this.

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Rachel Rondon
20:10 Mar 21, 2023

Thanks for reading! I could def see myself writing more stories with Mara. Her and Dimitri have a complicated relationship that would be fun to unpack.

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