Savagely (The Italian Book 2)

by Krista Holt

  Thankfully, Garrett’s bosses decided my father’s deposing trumped potential murder charges against me. Otherwise, I’d be sitting in a cell somewhere up at Rikers.

  “Start at the beginning,” I order. “How long have you known? When did they tell you?”

  A faltering breath leaves her lips as she tries to collect herself, and I notice the shards of glass scattered on the floor all around us. She doesn’t seem to care, but I do. Pushing to my feet, I hold my hand out, waiting for her to give me hers.

  I pull her up and lead her to the bed. She sits on the edge, rubbing her palms together and then pressing them between her legs.

  “I found out at Stanford.”

  My eyes close. Since Stanford. I thought everything about our time together there had been honest, genuine. But that was a lie, too.

  “What did he ask you to do?”

  She squirms, her eyes falling to the floor.

  “Reagan…”

  Her chest rises and falls on a quick inhale as she tries to find her nerve. “Basic things. Like who was around you. Sometimes I checked the messages on your phone or glanced through your laptop.”

  “Did you ever find anything useful?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Nothing important.”

  Well, at least I wasn’t completely stupid; I still protected myself. Even if it had been done through fear. I had hid everything so she wouldn’t find out about my family, so she wouldn’t leave. If only I had known the ugly truth…

  “What did they offer you?”

  “It wasn’t about that.”

  “What did they offer you,” I repeat, scowling at her as I wrestle with myself. Not sure I want to know what her price was, or what it was that tempted her enough to betray me. But my broken and bruised ego wants to know, needs to know.

  “My job. That wasn’t why I accepted though.”

  “Your job, your damn job?” I laugh mirthlessly. “Of course.”

  She pushes to her feet and takes a tentative step toward me. “Listen to me, I didn’t agree to help Simmons because of the job.”

  “Why then?”

  “I wanted to prove him wrong. I didn’t believe him. I was sure he had the wrong guy.”

  Dark blue eyes pin me where I stand. Everything about her is open and easy to read in this moment. And hope, the cruel asshole that it is, cracks the ice-cold wall I’ve been busy building around myself. The wall meant to protect me from her, splinters apart.

  “I never found anything helpful, but he wouldn’t let it go. Every time I brought up wanting to get out, he’d hint that my name, and what I was doing, might fall into the wrong hands. That he might let you find out.”

  Anger roars through me. Anger at this man. Anger at her for allowing herself to be used against me. “Did you really believe I’d hurt you?”

  “No…I don’t know. I didn’t know what all you were capable of, and it was obvious that there was this whole other side to you, one you didn’t want me to know about it. I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t trust your family either. Theirs were the calls you never missed. You disappeared for them often and dodged all of my questions. I was never really sure that us, what we were, was strong enough to keep them out. I was never sure you valued me above them.”

  “Look at what I did for you.”

  “I know that, now. I didn’t know it then. Can’t you see it from my point of view? Can’t you understand?”

  I can, and I do. But I can’t let it go yet.

  “What happened here?” I snap, and she jumps a little. “In D.C.?”

  “More of the same. I was so hurt by you leaving that Simmons hardly had to convince me to help him this time.”

  “So, it was all for show? Your promise to give me a second chance? Calling me to come get you from that bar? Spending the night at my apartment?”

  None of that felt like a lie. Her responses to me always felt…right. Or was I wrong?

  “No, parts were real, and parts were driven by what I felt I had to do.”

  My jaw jerks as I swallow hard. “What else?”

  “I planted a listening device in your car.”

  Her words cut like a knife, slicing me open, making it hard to breathe. “When?”

  “Right after New Year’s. The night you surprised me outside of work. The night I made you promise to leave me alone.”

  The night before I took her. “What did he get from it?”

  “I don’t know. It stopped working not long after I left it under the seat.”

  “Then what, what did you do next?”

  “He gave me a device that he said would search your phone for anything incriminating. It wasn’t until later that he told me it actually copied everything from your phone. Your call history, old texts and emails, and GPS locations. It also installed something that let him listen in to everything and track you.”

  “When did you use it?”

  “The night you took me to your apartment. You were asleep in bed and had left your phone in the other room.”

  Because I trusted her.

  My mind shifts through my memories of that night. Waiting for her dinner date to end, bringing her to my place, falling asleep beside her. Hoping there’d be many more mornings waking up beside her. The misplaced emotion burns, but not as much as recalling the man she was having dinner with. Simmons.

  “You met him for dinner?”

  Her face pales. “You saw him?”

  “Yes, I was waiting to talk to you. Damn it, Reagan.”

  She was so lucky that it had been me watching her. Not that I don’t trust Enzo, but it’s always better to keep secrets like these contained. And her working with FBI, to get to me, that’s something I never want my father to know about.

  “Do you know how stupid that was? Meeting with him in public?”

  Guilt twists her face, and frustration wrinkles her brow. “I was just trying to keep my head above water. I didn’t know what to do. I was scared, and I just wanted it to be over.” Her voice cracks, and her eyes turn glossy with more tears.

  I feel like shit, watching her cry, knowing the only reason she was afraid was because of what I let happen to her. Because of what I did.

  “I know you were scared. And I’m sorry for that,” I sigh, resigning myself to the fact that I can’t really be angry with her. Hurt, yes. But I can’t hold her at arm’s length. I never could.

  Uncertainty and hope flicker in her eyes as she straightens, watching me draw near. I reach out, waiting to see if she’ll pull back. But she doesn’t. She inches toward me, letting me brush a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes close, and she pushes her face into my hand. My thumb brushes over her skin, savoring the feel of it. Of her. Of this. My heart roars in my ears, but I can somehow still hear her labored breathing.

  “I want to forgive you,” I admit.

  She rests her hand gently on the bruised side of my face. The skin from my jaw to my cheekbone is tinged dark blue from where I hit the window of the Benz during the FBI raid, and my ribs are a little pissed that I went around destroying a hotel room once I got here. But I’ll live.

  “Have you iced this?” Tender fingers probe my skin.

  “No. I was in jail for a while…” She winces, and I reach for her free hand, lacing it with mine and squeezing them together tightly. “And after that, I was a little busy trying to convince the FBI to let me testify to your committee.”

  “I can’t believe you were the whistleblower. All this time, all these leads, and you were staring me right in the face.” She smiles half-heartedly. “Why did you even put yourself through that?”

  “Because I got to see you, and be around you. Even if it was just a few hours here and there, it’s what kept me sane. It kept reminding me of why I was doing what I was doing.”

  Our eyes lock. It’s intimate, and personal. And oddly settling. I could lose myself in her, and she must feel this pull getting stronger between us, because she blinks. She inches back, and her eyes drop to the floo
r.

  “Why did they take us if you were the whistleblower? Was it necessary?”

  “I didn’t really have any other choice. I kept putting my father off and putting him off. I couldn’t tell him I was closing in on the leak, because that would have meant putting someone else in danger, or risk being found out myself.”

  I slowly lower myself to the bed’s edge with a groan, tugging her along with me. She inches closer, stopping between my thighs, as she waits for me to continue.

  “The night we went to that Cuban restaurant, Saul caught us together. My father was having me followed and that’s how he found out about you. So I told him I was working you, trying to get information on the whistleblower. It bought me some more time but he eventually got tired of waiting. He ordered me to get rougher with you both, and I didn’t want to. Reagan, believe me, but if I hadn’t—”

  “He would have been suspicious of you,” she finishes.

  I nod. “Your co-worker? Is he okay? I know they really did a number on his face. It was easier to watch him get punched though, than to let you get hurt.”

  “I think he’s fine. The bruises are fading.”

  “Like yours?”

  “Like mine.” Her tongue darts over her bottom lip, and her focus strays to the floor again. “About Saul…Simmons showed me pictures. He said he was able to track your phone to Battery Park, the same place they thought he might have been killed.”

  “And?” I reach out and tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. “What exactly are you asking me, Reagan? Because I’m not going to hide things from you anymore. If you don’t want to know the truth, don’t ask me that question.”

  Her chest rises and falls as she searches my eyes, trying to decide. “I don’t want to know.”

  But, I can tell from the way she’s looking at me…she knows. She knows I killed him. She just doesn’t want to hear me admit it. I love her for that, but part of me grieves the loss of her innocence.

  “He hurt you,” I say roughly. “I don’t regret it.”

  Her eyes close briefly, and she shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about this again. And, I don’t want it happening again. Okay?”

  “I’ll try.” My lukewarm agreement unsettles her, but I can’t make any more promises I can’t keep. To be honest, there’s no limit to what I would do for her. Murder or mayhem.

  She bites into her bottom lip, working it over.

  I reach over and gently release it with my thumb. “I don’t want you to worry about this. All right?”

  “I have a million more questions, though.”

  “I’ll answer anything you want, but not about this.”

  She nods, biting her lip again. I fight a tired smile, letting my hand fall from her face. We sit there in silence, watching the shadows lengthen on the wall as the sun starts to set. Through the window, the lazy Potomac separates states and sunlight reflects off its tranquil surface, blinding anyone too close to it.

  Slowly, my thoughts turn morbid. The trial, my father, the danger, and the risk involved in testifying against the man capable of ending my life with a flick of his finger. Everything swirls together, weighing on me, pulling my shoulders down. I worry about my mother, my sister. Will they ever forgive me?

  Will I ever be able to forgive myself?

  Reagan throws me a lifeline when she reaches over, takes my bruised and bloodied hand in her pure white one, and squeezes tight. “What happens now?”

  My gaze travels from our hands to the sun slowly sinking outside.

  “I go back to New York and testify against my father.”

  CHAPTER 25

  SHE TENSES BESIDE ME.

  A thousand different questions must be circling in her head. How? Why?

  She doesn’t voice any of them, though, just squeezes my hand harder. “When?”

  “Tomorrow. We leave in a couple of hours.”

  “That soon?”

  “The prosecution petitioned for an expedited trial. Given that my father is bound to start killing witnesses, they wanted to act fast.”

  “Killing witnesses…”

  It would have been easier not to say anything, to let her pretend the danger is all over. When really, it’s beginning. As soon as I walk into that courtroom tomorrow and stare my father in the face, there’s no turning back. It’s why Garrett is acting with extreme caution. No one was supposed to know I was in D.C., that I’m still here. I’m surprised he even let Reagan see me.

  “Nic—” Her voice catches. “How dangerous is this?”

  I stare at her. My heartbeat counts the passing seconds as I struggle to find something to say. “I don’t know.”

  Her eyes close, brushing dark lashes against pale skin. “Tell me the truth.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m genuinely not sure. Knowing my father, when he finds out I’m the one who put him in jail, he’s gonna try to kill me. Maybe not him, but someone will. He’ll either pay for it to happen, or it’ll be a favor, because someone owes him. Garrett tried to catch everyone affiliated with the family, but things like this are never perfect. There were a few people, a few associates the FBI wasn’t able to find during the sweep.”

  “And…?”

  I shrug. “They could use the opportunity to run or do nothing, and it wouldn’t be an issue.”

  “Or they could not,” she adds.

  “We tried to mitigate the risk and contain the fallout. But where there’s a will, there’s a way. If my father wants it bad enough, Garrett might not be able to stop it.”

  A heartbreaking noise falls from her lips before she firmly clamps a hand over her mouth, looking at me with wide eyes.

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” I assure her. My thumb runs over the back of her other hand, still tightly held in mine.

  “Do you think I’m selfish enough to be worried about me right now? I’m scared for you! Isn’t there something else? Isn’t there another way?”

  I shake my head slightly. She doesn’t need to know about the passports, or the money. She doesn’t need to know my backup plan has always been to take her and run. It doesn’t do any good now, because I can’t get to any of those things locked up here in this hotel room.

  And I don’t want to feel like I’m taking away any more of her options. I can’t handle that. Right now, she’s looking to me for support, for guidance, but I’m barely holding myself together. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m not in control of it anymore. I have to trust that Garrett is going to do everything possible to protect me.

  I try not to worry about it, but then my mind fills with thoughts of my mother, my sister, and how they’re going to react to the news. How much they could hate me. Guilt and condemnation rain down on my head, and I regret not running when I had the chance.

  But I know, I know, I would have never been safe that way. As long as my father had the power and the reach to come after me, to come after us, he would. I had to take everything away from him first. Cutting him off from power and his sphere of influence was the only way.

  Reagan is smart, smarter than most. I could explain all of this to the woman sitting beside me, but she’s not ready to hear it. Sadness rims the edges of her eyes and worry over the unknown is folding in on her.

  “There isn’t another way now, Reagan, I have to do this.”

  She nods like she understands, but I know she doesn’t. She’s trying to be strong, even though she’s frightened. Tears flow freely down her face, until I can’t take it anymore. Seeing her in pain hurts me.

  “Come here.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”

  “I wasn’t asking.”

  With a tug on our joined hands, she topples into my lap. I hold her tight, and she hides her face in my neck. Tears wet my skin as she grabs at me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.

  “It’s going to be fine.” I run a calming hand over the back of her head, praying to anyone listening that I’m not telling her a lie.

 
; The scent that can only belong to Reagan hits me, and I inhale deeply, resting the only part of my face that isn’t bruised on the top of her head. Closing my eyes, I allow myself the luxury of feeling her presence. Holding her long enough for her tears to ease, and for my fears to settle. Temporarily.

  “Are you all right?” I kiss her temple. “I know—”

  A knock on the hotel room door cuts me off.

  “What?” I shout.

  “We need to talk,” Garrett calls. “Open the door.”

  Reluctantly, Reagan slides off of me, and I get the door, letting Garrett step inside. He glances around the room before setting his sights on her.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Reagan’s blue eyes bounce between us, suddenly unsure. “Okay.”

  “Outside, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Sure—”

  “Anything you have to say to her, you can say in front of me, O’Neil,” I interrupt, stepping between them.

  Reagan lays a soft hand on my arm. “It’s fine, Nic.”

  With astute eyes, Garrett catches how she holds me back. He glances at her one more time, waiting for her to nod before he speaks.

  “I’m not going to candy coat this, so here’s the truth: she needs to come to New York.”

  “Absolutely not,” I argue. “She is not going. I won’t allow it.”

  “You aren’t in control here, Selvaggio.”

  “She was never part of the bargain. And you’re going to leave her out of it.”

  “I know she wasn’t a part of this, but things change. Just like this has.”

  “Why now?”

  Garrett calmly unbuttons his jacket before cramming his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

  “Look, I’ve spent the last couple of hours digging through every case Simmons has worked on for the last five years, and I can’t find a single mention of you anywhere, Reagan. There’s no record of the case he was working on. No record of you being on his list of confidential informants. Nothing, nowhere. I looked through every email, every file, everything I could get access to. Nothing’s there.”

  She eases around me, stopping by my side. “He didn’t keep records of our meetings. He said the only way to keep my identity a secret was to keep it off the books.”