Honor (Made Book 1)

by Melissa Ellen

  His presence had always made me feel safe. He could talk me into just about anything, like going on a long, painful hike in the middle of the mountains. Seeing him happy, made me happy, despite what we were doing.

  Ignoring the pain in my feet and legs, I grinned up at him, apparently not convincingly enough, though.

  He reached for my hand, tugging me flush against his firm, sweaty body as he enclosed me with his arms, playfully rocking us side to side. “I promise you the view will be worth it.”

  I held onto him as I gazed up at his handsome face. In my eyes, it was the only view I needed.

  He gave me a quick kiss then pulled away, still holding my hand. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

  I groaned jokingly, sagging my shoulders as he lugged me forward with him. The truth: I would follow him anywhere, do anything for him.

  He moved behind me at the final part of our hike, supporting my back as we climbed to the top of a boulder, the lookout point we’d been making the trek for.

  I waited for Mario to meet me at the top. He took my hand again, steadying me as we stepped across the rough surface, closer to the edge where the trees opened. Taking in the view, my breath caught in my throat. As always, he was right. The gorgeous view of the rolling green mountains was magical.

  Mario removed the backpack he’d been carrying from his shoulder, setting it down on the ground and squatting to unzip it. He pulled out a water bottle, passing it to me. I lowered beside him, taking a seat on the ground as I drank and continued to stare at the beautiful scene that surrounded us.

  Mario settled beside me, his long legs bending out in front. I handed him the bottle and he took a couple drinks before giving it back to me and leaning back on his palms. After one more gulp, I twisted the cap back on and set it aside, both of us staring straight ahead. Closing my eyes briefly, I savored the experience.

  “Thank you,” I said after a few moments of comfortable silence.

  He looked over at me, waiting for me to elaborate.

  “For this—” I waved a hand toward the view. “For always knowing what I need, even when I don’t.”

  “Does that mean you’re sorry for calling me an asshole?” His eyebrow arched, a smug grin quirking his lips.

  I scoffed a small giggle. “I never called you that.”

  “Maybe not, but you were thinking it the whole time we were hiking up here.”

  A laugh burst from my mouth. I shoved at his arm, barely budging him.

  He snatched my wrist and tackled me to the hard surface, pinning me with his body. He ran his teeth over his bottom lip, still grinning. His playfulness slowly began to fade as he studied me, his face becoming more earnest. He swiped a few strands of hair from my face as a breeze swept across us.

  He swallowed a hard lump in his throat before he finally spoke. “I’m not sure I ever had a chance.”

  “At what?” I asked, the pressure in my chest increasing with my pounding heart.

  “Not falling in love with you. I tried to fight it for so many years, tried to ignore it, but it didn’t matter. I think my heart has always belonged to you. I’m not even sure when I first fell in love with you.”

  His admission pierced deep, settling inside my bones. My mouth went dry, unable to speak. I licked my parting lips, then placed my hand over his cheek. Holding his gaze, I lifted my head and pressed a kiss to his lips. He moved a hand to cradle my head, his fingers threading through my hair as he kissed me back. The kiss wasn’t needy or desperate. It wasn’t demanding or urgent. It was soft. Slow. Simple. It was everything.

  A satisfied smile eased across my face as he slowly pulled away with a few lingering pecks. With pinched brows, his forehead wrinkled in question at my expression.

  “It was the pigtails, wasn’t it?” I asked.

  His chest shook with a low chuckle. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s what made you fall for me. You were always pulling them when we were kids. At some point, I think I started wearing them just for you.”

  He rolled off me, clutching at his stomach as his deep laugh echoed through the mountain air. “Yeah, bella. I think that’s what did it,” he finally said as his laughter died. Sitting up from his back, then standing, he extended his hands to help me up. “Come on, let’s get back before it gets too dark.”

  I brushed off the dirt from my backside as I took one final look at the view, committing it to memory. Then, with Mario leading the way, I climbed down from the lookout point, already enjoying the journey home more than the climb up.

  After dinner, Mario had gone outside to build us a campfire while I gathered blankets and searched for a flashlight. I snatched up the marshmallows and the bottle of wine from the counter on my way out the door, with the rest of the items bundled in my arms.

  I placed everything on the table between the two Adirondack chairs, minus the blanket, deciding to keep that with me. Before I could take a seat in the empty chair, Mario was pulling me onto his lap, kissing my neck. I nuzzled into him, spreading the blanket open and draping it over us. Underneath the red and black buffalo plaid fleece, he covered my left hand with his, hooking only our pinkies together as we watched the flames flicker in a mesmerizing dance.

  “What are you thinking about?” he whispered, resting his chin on my shoulder. I was surprised by his question. He didn’t normally have to ask. Sometimes, I felt like he knew my thoughts before I did.

  “That I’ll never forget this weekend.”

  “There’ll be more of them.”

  I sighed with the thought. “Maybe…but I’m worried it won’t be the same.”

  “It won’t be. It will be better.”

  Twisting at the waist, I leaned away to look at him. “What happens at the end of all this?”

  “What do you mean? I’ve told you.”

  “I know…but, I can’t help but worry. Things will be different for you, your job, your life… I don’t want you to resent me.”

  “That will never happen.”

  “But it could.”

  “It won’t.”

  I turned back to the fire, annoyed, mostly with myself, for having ruined the moment.

  He squeezed me tighter, pressing his lips against my shoulder, easing some of the tension. “This was all my decision, Lena. Not yours. No matter what happens, I won’t ever resent you or my decision. Got it?”

  I nodded, lightly.

  “That wasn’t very convincing.” He tickled my right side.

  I giggled, attempting to squirm away, but failing miserably given the strong hold he had on me. “Yes!” I screeched, through my laughter. “I said, yes!”

  He relented and I nudged my elbow into his abs. “You’re such an asshole.”

  “You like it,” he teased, throwing my words from earlier back at me.

  I snorted, burrowing back into the comfort of his embrace, and pulling the blanket to my chin. This time as we sat in silence watching the fire, I snuffed out any pessimistic thoughts. This was our last evening together, and I was determined to make it one we both looked back on fondly.

  16

  Mario

  I glanced around as the limo slowed to a stop near the curb in front of me. I opened the door and folded myself into the backseat with Moretti.

  The car started to move as he kept his eyes on me. “How was your weekend?” he asked, as if we were old friends having a casual conversation.

  “She behaved. Spent most of her time alone in her room.”

  “Any visitors? Or side trips?”

  “No.”

  He tapped his middle finger on his knee, his gaze unwavering. His silence was meant to intimidate me. But if he’d suspected me of anything, I wouldn’t be sitting in his limo with him now. I’d be dead. Moretti was one to kill first, ask questions later. Especially, when it involved a potential threat to his family.

  “She listens to you.”

  “She trusts me. We’ve known each other for a long time. We were close once.”


  “Yes. And we can use that to keep her in line. At least, until she becomes Lorenzo’s problem.”

  Not sure I could keep my emotions in check when responding to that comment, I changed the subject. “Where are we headed?”

  “It’s time you learn more about the family business.” The car slowed, making a right turn into an alley. It stopped near an unmarked metal door. Moretti jutted his chin toward the brick building. “Where the magic happens.”

  I looked in the direction he motioned as Ricky opened the door for us. I got out of the limo, stepping to the side as Moretti did the same. He led the way, stopping outside the door and placing his thumb on a touch pad, leaning in for a retinal scan, and finally entering a series of codes.

  The door clicked open. Two armed gunmen flanked it on the inside. They gave Moretti a silent nod as I followed behind him.

  “Drugs are child’s play,” Moretti spoke as we walked, our footsteps echoing through the long corridor that ended with another door with two more guards. “Though, still lucrative, it’s no longer our primary focus. With the cartels, the gangs, and the rest of the unintelligent fucks who think they own our streets, we’ve decided to let them fight it out a bit.”

  “You’re moving out of the drug business?”

  “Not completely, but the world has evolved. We’ve evolved, as we always have and always will. When prohibition ended, we did the same thing.” He stopped at the door, going through the same verification as before to gain access to whatever was inside.

  I scanned the room as we entered. It looked like nothing more than a small, modern-day office, with four cubicles in the center of the open area, a conference room, an executive office on the left, a breakroom with a lounge area on the right. There was another guarded door on the opposite side of the space. Four men sat at each of the desks, hard at work, with their heads buried in their computer screens and headphones on their ears as they plugged away at a keyboard.

  Moretti continued forward to the guarded door. One of the men nodded in greeting, while the other turned to unlock and open the door for us to enter. The room was dark and cold. It was illuminated with a single light overhead in the middle of the small space, the beam directed on the only thing occupying the room: a chained-up and passed-out Tommy. Based on his bruised and battered face and the blood dripping from his fingertips onto the floor in a growing puddle, I’d guess it wasn’t purely from lack of sleep.

  I stayed back with the other two men while Moretti stopped only a few feet from him, nudging at Tommy’s foot with his own. When Tommy didn’t move, Moretti kicked a little harder. Tommy jerked, barely able to lift his head and open his swollen eyes. Giving him a helping hand, Moretti gripped the strands of Tommy’s hair, yanking his head back.

  “You’ve got some balls, kid,” Moretti spat, staring down at him. “Unfortunately for you, they won’t be yours much longer if you don’t have what I want.”

  Tommy mumbled something incoherent, his eyes falling closed again. Moretti released Tommy’s head, and it flopped forward like a rag doll. He stepped back, slowly removing his jacket, precisely folding it before passing it to me.

  “I trusted you, Tommy.” Moretti unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolling each sleeve to just above his elbows as he circled him. “I had faith in you. You came highly recommended and you gave me your word that you’d get it done.”

  Moretti stopped once again in front of Tommy. Lifting his foot, he kicked it out. The chair Tommy was chained to flew back, slamming to the pavement. Tommy coughed up blood, spitting it out from the side of his mouth as Moretti placed a foot on his chest, effectively smashing Tommy’s hands chained behind him against the cold concrete. He screamed out as Moretti leaned in, placing all his weight on the one foot, and pulled out a gun, pressing it to Tommy’s head.

  “I consider myself a forgiving man, Tommy, a reasonable man. We aren’t animals after all…so, I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me where it is.”

  Tommy’s eyes rolled backward, his mouth falling limply open as he choked out the words, “Floor board.”

  “Where?”

  “My place.” His words were barely audible through his strained breathing.

  Moretti stood up straight, tucking his gun back in its holster as he nodded at the men who had been standing beside me. They left immediately, leaving the three of us.

  I passed Moretti his jacket as he moved next to me.

  “What now?” I jerked my chin to a passed-out Tommy.

  “We wait for confirmation they found it, then we handle him.” Moretti slipped back into his jacket. “Let’s go. I’m starving. Work always makes me hungry.”

  One hour later, Moretti got the call his men had found what they were looking for. We were just wrapping up our meal when they walked into the nearly empty restaurant and filled the last two seats at our table. Nobody said a word as Moretti took the last bite of his steak. He wiped his mouth with a white linen napkin before setting it beside his plate.

  The bigger guy, who I learned was named Leo, pulled out an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it over to Moretti.

  “Did you have them verify it?’

  “Yes. It’s good.”

  “Make the call.” Moretti tucked the envelope into his own suit coat. “I want him in my office in an hour.”

  “If he doesn’t come willingly?”

  “Are you asking because you’re unsure how to properly do your job?”

  “No, boss,” Leo stood, pushing in his chair.

  His sidekick, who never seemed to speak, did the same, and the two of them strode away, leaving the restaurant.

  Moretti sat back in his chair, looking over at my plate as he rested a hand on his stomach. “You barely touched your food.”

  “I’m watching my figure,” I said dryly.

  He chuckled and I cracked a smile.

  The truth was, food was the last thing on my mind. I was still trying to piece it all together. Moretti had told me very little, and I knew better than to ask. I had some theories, but needed the confirmation.

  Moretti lifted his right hand, signaling to the waiter. A few minutes later, the server placed two new glasses of red wine in front of us. I’d declined it earlier, but it seemed he wasn’t giving me the choice this time.

  “I apologize for not properly introducing you to Tommy. But it’s my understanding you two had previously met.”

  I remained silent as I picked up my wine glass and took a drink. I didn’t want to insult him when he was finally about to give me the answers I was looking for. The ones Agent Rhodes and Maxwell were chomping at the bit for.

  “He’d been working on a very special project for us.” Moretti swirled his wine, taking a deep inhale of it before tasting it for the first time. “Drugs have always been a filthy business. Which is why most people stay away from them. Did you know only ten percent of the population ever touches them?”

  I shook my head, setting down my wine glass.

  “It’s on the rise, of course. Especially with the legalization of marijuana in more states, but it’s still such a small percentage compared to, say, the number of people who have credit cards. Do you know what that is?”

  Once again, I responded with a silent no.

  “Seventy percent. Seventy fucking percent of people have at least one credit card. What kind of businessman would I be if I didn’t take note of that?”

  He took another drink as I sat back, crossing my arms with a growing smile. Moretti, being the arrogant man he was, would take my reaction for what he believed it to be: approval, adoration. But I was smiling because he’d just confirmed my assumptions.

  His phone buzzed on the table. After reading the text message, he polished off the rest of his wine and stood. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

  Grabbing my jacket, I followed him out of the restaurant and into the limo Ricky had waiting for us outside.

  We returned to the same place where they’d been holding Tommy.
This time, Moretti walked into the executive office, signaling for me to take a seat in one of the guest chairs while he took his place at the desk. A few moments later, the entrance to the main area opened. Leo walked in, escorting Alex Prescott.

  Prescott’s eyes went to me briefly. He stood tall as he marched into the room, but I could see the nervousness behind them.

  “Have a seat Mr. Prescott,” Moretti directed.

  “Have you lost your goddamn mind, Matteo?” he roared, ignoring Moretti’s order. “You can’t just show up at my office in the middle of the day, demanding my presence.”

  “Sit. Now. Before I have my men break your fucking legs to help you. Your choice.” Moretti’s expression was blasé as he waited for Prescott to decide.

  Prescott lowered into the seat beside me, his bravado fading quickly.

  Moretti reached for the envelope he’d tucked into his coat at the restaurant, then with two fingers slid it across the shiny, mahogany surface of the desk to Prescott.

  He stared at it for a moment before reaching for it and looking inside. His hand trembled slightly as he registered its contents. “I need time.”

  “You’ve had plenty,” Moretti responded flatly.

  “We haven’t created the patch, yet.”

  “I guess it’s lucky for you, my guy has.”

  “There’s a level of finesse to ensure it’s not detected immediately. We only have one shot at this, a very small window. These aren’t small companies like you’re used to hacking. Our clients are large banks and global investment firms with the best security protection out there. If it’s—”

  “I said he took care of it. Are you questioning my intelligence, Mr. Prescott? Because I’d hate to see you suffer the same fate as your partner.”

  “You killed him,” Prescott said through a strangled breath, shoving a hand through his hair, sweat starting to gather on his oversized forehead.