Page 29 of Sins of Arrogance (Syndicate Sins #1)

KARA

Róise hits the mat again with a solid thud . For the second time in five minutes.

"Too much thinking," Fabiana snaps, yanking her to her feet like she weighs nothing.

"I’m built for thinking," Róise groans, shifting back into a ready stance. "Not Judo-flipping a mafiosa."

Fabiana smirks. "Your fiancé disagrees. Now again. Less brain. More instinct."

Across the room, Fiona’s stiff form mirrors mine as we square off, Zoey stalking around like a smug jungle cat.

"This isn’t a fencing lesson," Fabiana barks at Róise. "You’re not posing for Renaissance paintings. Drop your weight. Lower. Again."

Róise adjusts her stance and suddenly I'm flipping through the air and landing on the mat with an all too familiar thud.

"Pay attention to what you're doing, not your cousin." Zoey puts her hand out to help me up.

Frustrated and feeling more than a little salty, I grab Zoey's hand in a tight grip. Yanking hard, I kick out and sweep her feet from under her.

Then I roll right on top of her like Fabiana taught us and press my forearm against Zoey's throat. "How's that for paying attention?"

Fiona and Róise are both laughing and clapping.

Zoey grins. "That's what I'm talking about."

"Good job." Fabiana approaches, Róise following behind. "Zoey, show them the sequence for disabling an attacker coming from the back."

With a nod, Zoey leaps to her feet. Her movements efficient and vicious, she demonstrates a series of actions that culminate in a sharp elbow to the solar plexus of one of the padded dummies.

"You know," she says cheerfully, "when I was fourteen, my cousin taught me that. We used each other as live targets. He cried. I didn’t."

Fiona’s eyes widen. "That’s... comforting?"

"Zoey’s love language is low-key violence," Róise says, voice dry as she wipes sweat off her face with a gym towel.

"Don’t act surprised." Zoey gives Fiona a playful nudge. "You fell for a mafiosa."

Fiona blushes, tugs at her copper red ponytail and tries to hide the smile Zoey's acknowledgement of their relationship brings to her face.

None of us are smiling and my sister, cousin and I are all sweaty and breathing hard by the time we finish practicing the routine on the dummy. I'm hoping Fabiana isn't going to try to make us practice the sequence on each other.

I won't hurt Fiona or Róise. I can't. And I'm pretty sure, they'd feel the same. We already get in trouble for not taking our sparring "seriously enough".

As if my thoughts conjured it, Fabiana announces that we're sparring next.

Fiona ends up with Fabiana because apparently Zoey holds back too much with her too. Fabiana's disgust is real and she threatens to bring in new sparring partners for us at our next lesson.

Apparently learning self-defense is not uncommon among the women of the Genovese Family. Which means we can spar with other women like us. Not mafiosas . Which is something anyway.

The Cosa Nostra is so different from the Irish Mob. At least the Genovese Family is. I don't know how the other Five Families in New York treat their women in regard to learning fighting skills and how to use a gun.

I've heard that my cousin's mob in Chicago allows women to act as soldiers too. I wish some of that attitude would rub off on my dad.

I wonder if Mick will take things in a different direction after he takes over as boss? I used to think my husband and father were cut from identical cloths, but now I'm not so sure.

Zoey gets called away to report to Allessio, leaving me and Róise to spar with each other. My cousin and I circle one other, slow and careful. Do her muscles burn as badly as mine?

"You okay?" Róise asks, low enough that Fabiana and Fiona won’t hear.

"I’m fine."

She gives me a look. The kind that says liar . She fakes a grab and I deflect without thinking, but my timing’s off.

"So…" She tries the grab again, breath coming a little faster. "Mick took the news well? About Fitz?"

This time she makes no effort to keep her voice down.

I nod, and keep my hands up. "Better than I expected. He even said he’d handle it if Brogan tries to block the therapy."

"Of course he did." Róise deflects a kick to her thigh. "He’d burn the city for that little guy."

"Good. Fitz needs help processing this stuff." Fiona chimes in sounding way too in control of her breathing for all this exercise. "He needs to learn to feel things safely. I don’t want him to end up like me."

Everything stops for a beat. Even Fabiana pauses.

I glance toward Fiona. She’s staring straight ahead, locked in place; her hands are shaking.

Swiftly crossing the mats toward my sister, Róise right behind me, my heart hurts. Violence and trauma shaped my sister's life, just like it did for me and Róise.

Is it because we were raised in the mob? Maybe. But the only reason my son hasn't had to learn to duck, run and hide is because he attends a school with security dictated by the mob.

Other children his age go to school every day aware that the next mass shooting could be at their school. And they're taught how to respond if it does.

None of that has a single thing to do with being raised as part of a syndicate. And so Brogan reminded us after Aunt Charity's death in his attempt to help Fiona "get over" her anxiety.

Three million children witness a shooting every year, whether at school or in their home. Gun violence is the number one cause of death for children and teens in the United States and only a tiny percentage of those are linked in any way to organized crime.

Knowing this helped me not to hate being born into the mob. It didn't help my sister's anxiety levels. In fact, the reality that gun violence is so prevalent made my sister even more stressed about leaving the mansion.

Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, these self-defense lessons are helping Fiona's confidence more than any of our father's lectures.

I pull my sister right into a hug. "Fitz is going to be okay, Fi."

Suddenly Zoey is there, pulling Fiona from my arms into hers. She caresses my sister's cheek. "Your nephew is strong like his aunt. Like his mamma."

"Like Kara maybe, but I'm not strong," my sister whispers.

"You're one of the strongest people I know," I disagree. "You face your fears and anxiety every day and you don't let it stop you from everything."

Fiona gives a watery laugh. "Only some things."

"Which shows just how strong you really are," Róise says forcefully. "Listen, Fi, it's easy to go to a shelter and adopt a cat when you aren't terrified the whole time. But you did it with that terror and you never let Rambo know how afraid you were."

"That cat trusts nobody but you and sometimes my son." I smile encouragingly at my sister.

She returns my smile with a small tilt of her lips.

"Animals have good instincts," Fabiana says. "If the cat trusts you, he knows you'll protect him."

Something flickers in Fiona's eyes. And she stands a little straighter.

My baby sister needs to hear from people who aren't family how wonderful she is. Fabiana is good people, which makes it even more impactful for Fiona to receive affirmation from the mafiosa.

Fabiana claps her hands. "Okay, enough with the chit-chat. Back to work, people. We only have ten more minutes. Let's make them count."

I face off with Róise again, lunging almost immediately and catching her off guard.

We tangle, her hips twist one way, mine the other and we end up grappling. With an unexpected maneuver, she breaks the hold.

But I dive right back in and when Fabiana calls time, we're both panting.

The locker room off the new residents only gym in the Oscuro Building is like that of any other high-end gym, only this one has armed security on the door while we're inside.

Both the entry to the gym and the locker room have biometric scanner based security as well.

Miceli is taking no chances with Róise's safety.

After my shower, I get dressed it the communal area with the rest of the women. I don't know about Zoey and Fabiana, but I'm used to it from my years at boarding school.

There's never been a lot of false modesty between me and my sister and our cousin either.

"It felt like you had some aggression to work out today, cuz." Róise dries her shoulders and arms with a fluffy white towel. "Is everything okay with Mick?"

In no mood to blow-dry and straighten my hair, I pull my curls into a wet bun on top of my head. "We have a new houseguest."

"Who?" Róise asks.

"Dierdre Kelly is over from Ireland."

"As in the Kelly family that runs the Northside Dublin Syndicate with the Fitzgeralds?" Róise asks, sounding shocked.

Her words are so like my thoughts when I first heard Dierdre's name, I smile.

"Yes." I adjust my full breasts inside my bra after clasping the front closure.

"What's she like?" Róise's voice is slightly muffled by the shirt she's pulling on over her head. "How old is she?"

"Mick's age, I guess." I pull on my white textured linen palazzo pants. "They used to be a thing."

"According to her, they're still good friends ," Fiona pipes up.

No one can do mockery like a teenager and at 18, my sister is in her sarcasm prime.

Róise tucks part of her hem into the front of her shorts so her top blouses over the waistband. "So, she's in New York trying to renew old friendships?"

"She claims it’s for her safety. That another syndicate tried to kidnap her."

"You don't believe her?" Róise asks.

Zoey snorts. "That woman has a very distant relationship to the truth."

I finish adjusting my bust under my crisscross halter top. "She tried to convince Mick that I told her I didn't want her staying at the mansion."

Taking a look in the full mirrored wall at one end of the changing room, I nod. The girls look banging and there's a slice of skin exposed between the hem of my halter top and the waistband of my high-waisted palazzo pants.

Frumpy mom vibe is nothing I've ever aspired to. Maybe because I was so young when I had Fitz. Or maybe it's that I crave my husband's attention even if I cannot have his love.