Return to the Mob (Detroit Mafia Romance Book 6)

by Tami Lund

  But then Hillary’s face clouded over, and she focused her full attention on him. What would it be like if that were desire in her eyes instead of fury? Would it be equally as intense?

  Did it matter? He’d sure as hell never be given the opportunity to find out. If she disliked him before when his only crimes were a refusal to be a gentleman and an inability to not bicker with her, she would soon despise him. He was about to give her a legitimate reason to hate him.

  It’s for Julia.

  “Julia, could you give your brother and me a moment alone, please?” Hillary asked, her fiery eyes never leaving his face.

  “Why?” Julia asked.

  “I think we need to have a private conversation. And it might get…heated.”

  He liked the idea of getting heated with her. Except he was reasonably confident her version of heated was not the one he wanted it to be.

  Julia squeezed Hillary’s waist again. “No way. I’m not leaving. Marco might be mean to you, and I don’t want him to hurt your feelings. Because I want you to stay, and if he acts like he usually does, you’re going to leave me.”

  Damn, Julia couldn’t have played this situation into his hand any better if he’d rehearsed the scenario with her. Biting back a smile, he said, “I’m not going to be mean. I promise.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  Time to throw it out there.

  “I’m going to ask her to stay.”

  Chapter Five

  She’d begun to put it all together at the same time Julia had, only Hillary had been too stunned to say it out loud.

  Besides, that couldn’t be true, could it? Marco would not want her to… He could barely tolerate being in the same room with her without picking a fight.

  Why would he want her to move in with him?

  “Wait. Holy shit.” She clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “It’s okay,” Julia assured her. “I’ve heard worse.”

  Probably from her brother.

  Hillary cleared her throat. “Sorry. Anyway, seriously, Julia, Marco and I should probably have this conversation in private.”

  She could use another glass of wine, too.

  “Why don’t we have it downstairs, where the liquor is more readily available?” Marco suggested.

  Look at that. For the second time today, they were on the same wavelength.

  “Fine,” Julia said. “I’ll go to my room.” She waggled her finger in her brother’s face. “Don’t you dare scare her off.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Marco assured her. Was he fighting a smile? Good God, what did he find funny about this situation?

  Julia apparently accepted Marco’s assurance, and the three of them headed down to the second level, single file. Julia tugged her into her bedroom, and Hillary admittedly hardly noticed what was probably a totally adorable tween girl’s room. She was far too busy wondering about this impending conversation with Marco.

  And then she and Marco were heading down to the main level. He strode through the lovely parlor area and straight into the dining room, where he added ice and filled his glass with Irish whiskey.

  He started to lift the drink to his lips, and she very deliberately thrust her empty glass at him. He glanced at the dredges of leftover wine in the bowl before placing his drink on the bar so he could top off hers.

  “Thank you,” she said demurely, taking a sip.

  “Go ahead,” he said after he’d taken a hefty swallow, “lay it on me.”

  “Lay what on you?”

  He waved his glass. “Tell me how pissed off you are.”

  “How about you tell me what the hell is going on first?”

  He blinked rapidly. “You didn’t figure it out? And here I thought you were smarter than me. At least as smart as Julia, and she’s already connected the dots.”

  “You told your sister you wouldn’t be mean.”

  “How am I being mean? I just told you I think you’re smart.”

  “In an awfully condescending way,” she snapped before taking a slug of her wine. She should slow down. She needed her wits around her right now. “Are you seriously going to ask me to stay? Why?”

  His gaze darted to the side as he took another drink. Classic sign someone was lying. Was he not planning to ask her to stay? Why had he said as much to his sister then?

  “Julia could use a friend right now. Someone better equipped than me.”

  “You want me to stay to help you take care of your sister? For how long?” There was no way the captain would allow her to take an extended leave. She hadn’t been there long enough. Not to mention, the criminal element wouldn’t pause their activities for her to stay here to help with Julia. She’d have to resign so they could hire someone else to take over her responsibilities.

  Whoa, was she seriously considering quitting her job? For what? She didn’t even fully understand what Marco was asking of her. They had plenty of family in the area; what did he really need from her?

  “I don’t know,” Marco said, answering her question but still not looking at her. “And that’s not all of it.”

  Of course not. Getting information out of this man was like trying to determine which new sprout in the spring garden was a weed that needed to be pulled and which would grow into a stunningly gorgeous flower.

  “If you expect me to help you, you need to meet me halfway.”

  He finally dragged his gaze back to her, and suddenly she was hit with a beam of sunlight after days of nothing but cloud cover. She had to squeeze her hand into a fist to keep from shielding her eyes.

  “You’re really going to help me?”

  She crossed her arms. “Meet me halfway.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What do you expect from me?”

  Good Lord, could the man be any more exasperating? She blew out a puff of air. “How about you tell me what, exactly, is going on?”

  Whatever it was, he didn’t want to admit to it. Crap, was he more involved in all this mafia business than she thought? She’d been certain he wasn’t one of the bad guys.

  “I have to prove that I’m worthy of keeping custody of Julia.” He said the words very fast, like he was forcing them out.

  “Oh.” Not what she’d thought he was going to say. That was a far cry from, “I’m actually a stone-cold killer for hire.”

  It was also a legitimate reason to ask for her help. Maybe she ought not to judge the man so quickly.

  “So you want me to stay and help get her settled in this new path in her life while you deal with the courts?”

  He cupped the back of his neck. Hillary stared at the bulges of muscle under his dress shirt. At some point, he’d shed the suitcoat and rolled his sleeves up to just below his elbows. It was almost as hot as seeing him in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants.

  “It’s a little more complicated than that,” he said.

  “It always is.” She’d helped investigate cases similar to this situation, where the custody of a minor hadn’t been spelled out in a will and several family members wanted the child. The ultimate goal was always to do what was best for the child in question, but so many factors played into that. The child’s wishes, the child’s wellbeing, school, medical and mental care, finances, the potential trauma of moving across country or even to another continent.

  “My aunt Patricia wants her,” Marco blurted, biting off the words. “And I’ll be damned if I give her over to the woman.”

  “Aunt Patricia?” She’d not ever heard Luca mention an aunt Patricia.

  “My dad’s sister. They were estranged. Have been since he found out my mom was pregnant with me. It’s a long story,” he added dismissively.

  “I have time.” Apparently, she did if she were seriously considering staying. “Why don’t we go sit out on the deck?” Maybe it would ease some of his discomfort if they were outside, where Julia was less likely to overhear the conversation.

  Without saying anything, he strode to the sliding glass doors opposite the bar
and stepped out onto the deck. Guess she could take that as accepting her suggestion.

  A long, tile-topped table and six chairs sat on the wooden deck, with an umbrella stand nearby. The umbrella was closed and covered, which was okay. There was a nip in the air; cooler weather was on the way.

  Marco practically threw himself into one of the chairs, while Hillary sat more primly across from him. And then she waited.

  “My parents met when my mom was eighteen and my dad was twenty-two. According to them, it was insta-love.”

  “How sweet,” Hillary murmured.

  “Yeah, luckily, since he knocked her up the first time out of the gate.”

  “Oh.” Why the hell were Hillary’s cheeks so warm? They weren’t talking about she and Marco having sex, for God’s sake.

  She cleared her throat. “I wondered why there was such an age gap between you and Julia.”

  He snorted. “Julia was a mistake too. After I started elementary school, they decided they wanted another. Tried for about five years and nothing happened, so they figured it wasn’t in the cards. And then, at almost forty, Mom’s suddenly pregnant.”

  “Oh,” Hillary said again.

  “Aunt Patricia and Grandma showed up to Julia’s first communion. It was only the sixth or seventh time I can remember seeing them in my entire life. We were all at the church, taking pictures. My mom’s whole family was there. She got this cool shot with four generations in it, which was nice because my great-grandma passed away a couple years later.

  “Anyway, Mom asked Aunt Patricia and Grandma if they would take a picture with the baby, and Aunt Patricia says, ‘Only if you aren’t in it.’ My dad lost his shit on her, right there in the middle of the church. They stormed out with their noses in the air, and today is the first time I’ve seen them since.”

  “Why would she say that to your mother?”

  He curled his lip. “You do realize my mom is Frankie’s sister, right?”

  Hillary nodded.

  “And Frankie’s, um, means of employment is a little…questionable.”

  “A little.”

  Marco snorted. “My dad’s mother and sister have always taken a holier than thou stance against anyone who may even remotely be connected to the mob. Even by birth. Even if, despite who the person was born to, they have had nothing to do with the shady side of the family business, ever.”

  “Do you know why they feel so strongly?”

  He nodded almost absently. “According to my dad, my grandmother married my grandfather and expected him to take care of her for the rest of her life. All she wanted was to raise kids and keep house.

  "While looking for a way to improve his income so she could do just that, he got caught up with the local mafia. He ended up divorcing her and then disappearing, and she never forgave him for forcing her to have to support herself and her children without help. Blamed it all on the mob and has held onto that resentment all this time.”

  “When really it comes down to her husband making poor decisions.”

  “That’s how I see it.”

  Hillary nodded. “So your grandmother and aunt never accepted your mother, and they have not had any sort of relationship with you or your sister. Why do they want her now if they’ve only ever met her once?”

  Marco rested his foot on the opposite knee and swirled the ice cubes in his drink. “They think they can provide a better life. Separate her from the mob, and she’ll become a better person for it.”

  Hillary had once been one of those holier than thou individuals, largely because, as a cop’s daughter, she’d grown up seeing the world in black and white: you either followed the rules or you broke them, and if you broke them, you should be punished. But then Nina and her mother and aunt and uncle came into her life, and Hillary learned there was a lot of gray in the world.

  “If they separate her from the mob—what they view as the mob—that means separating her from you, doesn’t it?”

  Marco nodded. “Me, her cousins, her aunts and uncles, my other grandparents.”

  “But mostly you.”

  He shrugged. “If I keep custody, I’ll make sure she sees the rest of her family on the regular.”

  Marco may lack an understanding of the basic rules of being a gentleman, but as far as she was concerned, he was a far better person than that aunt who wanted to take a twelve-year-old child away from the only family she’d ever known.

  “And what’s my role in all of this?”

  He leaned forward, rested his forearms on the table with the glass between his palms. His gaze was steady on her face.

  “You get to play the role of my loving, devoted fiancée.” He paused, one side of his lips lifting into a smirk. “So I suppose congratulations are in order.”

  Chapter Six

  There it was. He’d finally said it.

  The idea of being engaged to him might damn well cause her to flee like a doe running from a wolf, so he braced, anticipating an argument he had every intention of winning.

  “Excuse me?” she said, her eyes wide.

  He leaned back in his chair. “I guess I should get you a ring.” If he could bring himself to enter his parents’ bedroom, there was probably something in his mom’s jewelry chest or the safe in their closet that would work. But the idea of stepping in there, where all their clothes still hung, where the picture of them on the day they’d gone to city hall and married without telling anyone still sat on the dresser, where all the paperwork he’d brought up from the basement had ended up. He wasn’t ready.

  “You guess? My God, you’re serious.”

  He frowned. “Why would you think otherwise?”

  She flapped her hand, nearly knocking over her wineglass. Snagging it, she drank, probably a larger portion than she intended. Marco watched the action, her lips pressed against the rim, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, the slight tremor in the hand holding the glass.

  Gulping wine shouldn’t be erotic, but he was fast learning that pretty much everything Hillary did was erotic, at least to him.

  “You are seriously okay with pretending to be in love with someone?” she asked.

  “For my sister’s sake? Yes.” Hell yes. He’d do whatever it took to keep her away from Aunt Patricia, to keep her close to the only family she knew. The family who cared about her, loved her, would take care of her and protect her.

  “You don’t know the first thing about being in love.”

  “And you do?” he challenged. “Wait. Are you dating someone? Because that could get awkward.”

  He sure as hell hoped she wasn’t, and not just because he was about to hijack her time and attention for the foreseeable future. The idea of her smiling at some other guy, having sex with another man; he suddenly had a stomachache, and it had nothing to do with anything he’d eaten recently.

  He wanted her all for himself, which, yes, he knew was fucked up, because assuming she agreed, this was a charade, nothing more. He may get lucky enough to steal a few kisses here and there to make this fake relationship look real, but that was it. When the state awarded him full custody and kicked Patricia to the curb, Hillary would be on the next flight home, wherever that was.

  She stood and walked to the edge of the deck. With her back to him, she sipped at her drink and appeared to study the landscape.

  “I am not dating anyone,” she said. And then she turned around. “But I do have a job. Responsibilities. I can’t just walk away from my life for who knows how long.”

  “I get that it’s an inconvenience.”

  “Inconvenience?” she repeated. “You don’t even know what I do for a living.”

  This was true. Leaving her job for an extended period of time had been the only aspect of this plan Nina had been concerned about. But then she’d said, “I don’t think she’s really happy there,” and Marco had convinced himself she could always find a new career.

  “You’re asking me to move to another state, take time off from my job, lie to my family—”
>
  “I’m not asking you to do that.”

  “What do you expect me to tell them?” she retorted. “Should I tell my father I’m moving here because the mob killed your parents?”

  A scant second after it was out of her mouth, her eyes widened and her bottom lip trembled. She rushed back to her seat, and for a moment he thought she was about to grasp his hands. Or maybe give him that hug he’d wanted earlier.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her palms flat on the tabletop. “That was uncalled for.”

  He waved away her apology. The Jamison was doing its job, keeping him numb so that comments like that didn’t crack his façade.

  “Did you come to that conclusion on your own, or does Luca believe it too?” he asked.

  “Luca is in denial because if it happened to your parents, it could happen to his.”

  He nodded. If the roles were reversed, he’d feel the same way.

  “I overheard some guys talking about it, when I went to the restroom at the restaurant.”

  “So that’s what it was.” He’d sensed something had happened; she’d been wringing her hands, her gaze darting everywhere, her mouth pinched.

  All that for him. Well, for his parents.

  “It was Davit,” he said. No point in hiding it from her.

  “The Armenian mob.” She stated it, but he nodded like she’d asked a question.

  She stared off into the distance. “They were killed because of Luca and Nina?”

  “Shannon,” Marco clarified. “He’s obsessed with her, and he figured out I helped her disappear a couple years ago.”

  Her eyes widened. “He killed them for revenge? Against you?”

  He winced and nodded.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He appreciated the sincerity in her voice. “You’ll be safe,” he vowed. “No one even knows who you are. You won’t be on anyone’s radar.”

  She glanced away again. What was she thinking? He’d thought for a moment there that she was considering his proposition, but now it felt as though they were backsliding.