You Will Suffer

by Alexandra Ivy

  The maniac was beyond hearing him.

  Continuing to race forward, Tia lifted the knife, her gaze locked on Ellie. Nate didn’t hesitate. Raising his hand, he aimed the gun and with one smooth movement, he pulled the trigger.

  Epilogue

  The nineteen fifties ranch house in the suburbs of Chicago was exactly how Ellie imagined it would be. Set on a small lot with a fenced-in backyard, it had white vinyl siding and a new roof. The garage was attached, and looked like it had recently been extended so there was only enough room in the driveway for one car.

  Inside it was shabby and cozy, with a living room that opened directly to the L-shaped kitchen and a narrow hallway that led to the bedrooms.

  The entire structure would have fit in her parents’ dining room, but there had never been the same warm, welcoming atmosphere that seemed to ooze from this house.

  Of course, her parents would quite likely have to downsize drastically. In the four months since Nate had helped Ellie limp out of the basement, her father had retired from the bench, retreated from society, and separated from his wife. Ellie hadn’t seen him, but Nate had kept her up-to-date on the investigation into Hopewell Clinic. It was hard to say if any charges would be pressed. Not only because of the statute of limitations, but because the men who’d been the clients of the clinic had the sort of power to put an end to any criminal proceedings.

  Whether or not he went to jail no longer mattered to Ellie. There was no punishment that could adequately compensate the victims. He would wither and die alone. Probably sooner rather than later.

  Paula and Tia, however, were another story.

  Paula had been hauled straight to jail by the sheriff when he’d finally arrived at the ranch, and Tia had been taken to the hospital, where the doctors had removed Nate’s bullet from her shoulder.

  They were awaiting trial. According to Nate, both were trying to negotiate their way out of the death penalty by blaming the other for the crimes.

  So much for the mother/daughter reunion.

  Ellie had more or less recovered from her ordeal. She still had nightmares, but she was back at work and she’d finished the repairs on her house.

  Not that she’d moved back home. She kept finding reasons to remain with Nate.

  Which was how she’d been caught in a moment of weakness and convinced to travel to Chicago to spend the Fourth of July with his parents.

  Standing next to Nate on the back porch, her eyes widened. When they’d first arrived in Chicago, only the immediate family had been gathered in the living room. Ellie had been so nervous she could barely speak, but everyone had been so kind and gracious, she’d soon lost her reserve.

  She hadn’t realized until Nate had escorted her through the French doors that the backyard was overflowing with guests. Circles of men gathered around the barbecues. Women laughed and chased young children. A huge group of teenagers jumped on a trampoline.

  Her nerves returned and she instinctively reached out to grab Nate’s hand.

  “Good Lord. When you said a family gathering, I was expecting a dozen people,” she complained. “Not a horde.”

  He chuckled, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “The Marcels don’t do anything small.” He sent her a charming smile. “You have to admit that they are all on their best behavior.”

  They had been. And while she’d been impressed with their manners, not to mention their drop-dead good looks, she hadn’t missed the hint of devilment that lurked in their eyes.

  “How did you get your brothers to agree?” she demanded, skimming her gaze over the crowd to see the Marcel men tossing around a football and tackling each other with enough force to make her wince.

  “I threatened to tell my mother that it wasn’t a baseball that broke the front window when I was ten,” Nate said.

  “What did break it?”

  “They double-dog dared me to ram my head through it.”

  Her eyes widened. “You didn’t.”

  He looked offended. “Of course I did. It was a double-dog dare. I had to.”

  Ellie shook her head, all too easily capable of seeing a young Nate running across the living room to smash his head into the window.

  “That explains so much.”

  He reached up to brush a finger over her cheek. “Any of it good?”

  Warmth cascaded through her. If it hadn’t been for this man, she didn’t know if she would have recovered from Tia and Paula’s crazed attempts to kill her, and the discovery her father was an immoral bastard.

  It was Nate who’d held her when the nightmares made her cry out in the middle of the night. And Nate who’d stood at her side when she’d forced herself to return to work. And Nate who’d protected her from any backlash.

  Thankfully most of the people in Curry had been anxious to put the past behind them. They were all related to at least one of the men involved. And while there were a few who would never trust her because of her father, the vast majority had returned to treating her as just another citizen who owned a business and paid her taxes.

  “Maybe a little,” she murmured, lost in his eyes that were more blue than gray today.

  “Don’t worry.” His thumb traced her lower lip. “I’m sure our kids will take after you. Or at least I hope so.”

  Ellie stiffened at his offhand words. “Kids?”

  He arched his brows. “Oops. Did I say that out loud?”

  She rolled her eyes. This man was like the old Chinese water torture. A steady drip, drip, drip that could wear away the most resilient resolution.

  “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself ?” she chastised. “I agreed to meet your family. Nothing else.”

  He smiled, completely unrepentant. “A man can dream.”

  Her heart lurched and skidded, slamming against her ribs. Instinctively she turned from his probing gaze. She couldn’t think clearly when she was looking in his eyes.

  Unfortunately, she immediately caught sight of June Marcel. The small woman with a halo of dark curls and dimpled face barely looked old enough to be married, let alone have a litter of grown sons. And she was without a doubt the heart of the Marcel family.

  Not one of them would allow anything or anyone to hurt this woman.

  “Nate,” Ellie breathed.

  Easily sensing her sudden distress, he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She licked her dry lips. “Do they know?”

  “Know what?”

  “About my father.”

  She felt his muscles ease at her question. As if he was relieved that’s what was troubling her.

  “They do, and they don’t give a shit,” he bluntly told her.

  She snorted. Easy for him to say. “I find that hard to believe.”

  He waved his free hand toward the milling crowd. “Look at the size of this clan.”

  She grimaced. It was still overwhelming. “I already did.”

  “Do you think that we don’t have a few rotten apples in the bunch?” he demanded. “At least three cousins are currently in jail and my great uncle was connected to the mob. Nothing fazes us.”

  “They can’t be as bad as my father.”

  Without warning, Nate grabbed her by the shoulders to turn her to face him. His expression was oddly somber.

  “No one here is concerned with Colin Guthrie or what he did in the past,” he assured her in fierce tones. “All they care about is how happy you make me.”

  Her heart did more of that lurching and skidding. This man . . .

  Somehow he’d become everything to her.

  “Do I make you happy?”

  “Words can’t describe how I feel when you’re near,” he said without hesitation.

  Ellie reached up to touch his beautiful face. She could remember opening her door and finding him standing on her porch. She’d known in that moment she was lost.

  It just took some time for her to admit the truth.

  “I’m glad yo
u’re so stubborn, Nate Marcel,” she breathed.

  He laughed. “I’ll remind you of that when you want to hit me with your shoe.”

  “Actually, I’ve discovered a real fondness for a cattle prod,” she warned him.

  “Yikes. I’ll keep that in mind.” Releasing her shoulders, he took a step back and held out his hand. “Are you ready to join the family?”

  They both knew he was asking for more than just a few hours at a picnic. Ellie tentatively reached out to lay her fingers in his palm.

  “I’m ready.”

  And she was.