Scars and Secrets (Loose Ends Book 1)

by Avril Ashton

  Love, huh?

  “Your mother’s here,” Izek spoke from the doorway.

  Van jerked his head up, spotted Seraphina Cook standing a couple feet away, and all hell broke loose.

  “Oh, hell no.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Reggie was closest to her, and in a blink he had a gun to her head as she stood to Izek’s left.

  “Colin.” She looked away from a furious Israel to glance at Van. “I didn’t know—I wanted to tell you I’m sorry,”’ she told Israel. “It won’t make it right, but—”

  Israel cursed. “I’m not the one you terrorized.”

  “Izek.” Van was trembling at just the sight of her, but his son was close to her. Too close. “Get Izek away. Now.” He stood then stopped suddenly. A red dot danced across Izek’s cheek.

  Levi must have spotted it too, because he grabbed Van’s arm as he surged to his feet. “Izek? What’s—”

  Their son frowned, stepped forward. The dot jumped to his chest.

  Sniper.

  “No!” Van rushed at him, but Seraphina threw herself sideways, in front of Izek…pop-pop…and together they crashed to the ground.

  The scent of blood filled the air. Pained cries.

  Chaos reigned. Shouts filtered through, but Van got on his hands and knees, scrambling, pulling at limbs, fingers slipping and sliding on slimy, sticky warmth.

  Blood.

  “Izek.” Fuck. He was screaming. Screaming. “Izek.” He yanked Seraphina up, saw the chest wound, her closed eyes and started yelling. “Izek.”

  “I’m okay.” Izek?

  Van couldn’t see through the tears in his eyes.

  “I’m okay.”

  He grabbed the blurry face in front of him as Levi hugged the both of them, and they tumbled backward, all three of them. He pressed teary kisses to the top of the kid’s head and didn’t stop.

  Until the stillness registered. Then he lifted his head, saw Israel with the gun in his hand, Reggie at his side. Van glanced down to the woman on the cold ground.

  She’d thrown herself in front of Izek. She’d taken that bullet for his son.

  His monster.

  The woman who destroyed him had saved his son.

  * * * *

  They didn’t leave Israel’s house, even though Levi really wanted to get away, if only to erase what happened the night before from his mind. He hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d spotted that tiny red dot on Izek’s face.

  A woman had been shot inches from him, a bullet to the chest. Had it been meant for Izek? For Van? For Israel? Levi didn’t know. None of the men knew. They’d been a mess, he didn’t think anybody slept.

  Levi and Izek had staredunblinking at the woman on the ground untilVan had sent them inside. He’d been pale, eyes wide and shock and fear. This was their world, Israel and Reggie—Van too—and they’d done whatever it was people like them did to fix what had happened.

  Levi couldn’t bring himself to ask what happened to Seraphina Cook. She was alive, that he knew.

  Nobody talked, but Israel and Reggie spoke loudly with their thick silence. Van was a jittery mess. He wanted Levi and Izek safe, he’d said as his eyes darted back and forth. Nobody knew who’d shot at them.

  Was he supposed to be sad about Seraphina? From everything he’d heard, she was a monster. Van’s monster. She’d terrorized and terrified him, broken him so badly that years from now Levi knew he’d still be helping Van repair those missing pieces she’d taken. She’d deliberately driven Mel to her death.

  Yet she’d thrown herself in front of a bullet to save his son.

  Levi didn’t know how he felt. What the right emotion should be. He simply clung to an unusually silent Izek, soothing him, soothing himself.

  It all haunted him, and brought back memories from a wretched night seven years ago. When they’d lost Gia. The guilt of those memories blended with the recent trauma, and Levi just wanted safety again. He wanted normal again.

  He wanted back the world he’d built before it had all gone to shit.

  He released a sleeping Izek and crept out the bedroom, down the stairs in time to see Reggie letting someone in through the back door.

  Levi stopped short.

  Dutch.

  As if he’d heard Levi curse his name, Ditch glanced up and they locked eyes. It couldn’t have been his imagination that the big, bad Dutch flinched when their gazes clashed, could it? Whatever he might have seen disappeared off Dutch’s face and the FBI agent was back to looking simultaneously bored and ready for battle. Once upon a time he’d intrigued Levi. All the power he just knew Dutch wielded. The men he had working for him who were so blindly loyal, jumping to the fire on his say so.

  Now he saw Dutch did every fucked up thing because he could, because he had nothing else. No one else. Levi just felt sad that the man didn’t know what it felt like to stare into the eyes of the person you knew you were gonna grow old with. To wake up with them every morning. Dutch had been way too damn eager to help Levi hide from Van once upon a time, even calling Van a fool for wanting to be with Levi and putting him before their work.

  Dutch couldn’t know love and be the cold-hearted man he was now.

  Or had he known it, and lost it?

  “What the fuck is he doing here?” Israel appeared to glower at Dutch and Reggie.

  “Reggie called me last night,” Dutch said calmly as he walked past Levi and into the living room to sit casually on the couch. Legs crossed, an arm stretched out, he sat back.

  “You called him?” Israel turned to Reggie, expression thunderous. “You know I don’t trust this dude.”

  “It’s not about fucking trust,” Reggie shot back. “We need shit done, shit you can’t do right now. Dutch can get shit done.”

  “Yeah.” Van walked into the room. “For a price.” He smirked at Dutch as he stood next to Levi and touched his lower back. “How’s the side treating you?”

  Dutch’s lips quirked slightly before he turned to Israel. “I know what happened.” Motioning to the briefcase he’d placed near his feet, he said, “And I have the man who did it.”

  “Convenient,” Van muttered.

  Israel had gone still when Dutch spoke, but by the time Dutch was done, Levi could feel Israel vibrating from across the room.

  “What do you want?” Israel asked.

  “I want to know which one of you killed Mark Dulles.”

  Levi gasped. Mark was dead? What the fuck?

  “You’re saying what exactly?” Van asked. He stepped away from Levi toward Dutch. “He’s dead?”

  “You fucking with me?” Israel barked a laugh. “Shit. You gotta be fucking with me.”

  “I assure you I am not fucking with you,” Dutch said calmly. “The senator was found dead in his hotel room late last night. I hear both of you had dinner with him the night before, and things got…” His gaze flicked to Van then away. “Rowdy.”

  “If you had eyes on him then you know I left the restaurant, and you know the fuck what happened next,” Van barked. “Quit fucking around and tell us what you know.”

  “Looks like he died in his sleep.” Dutch shrugged. “When the news breaks later today, the Medical Examiner will likely list the cause as a massive heart attack. A Widow Maker.”

  “But how did he really die?” Levi asked.

  Dutch faced him, steel-gray eyes unblinking. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “That must make you happy, huh?” Van asked Dutch.

  Israel and Reggie shared a look, a million words spoken between them in silence. Not for the first time Levi got the feeling they weren’t just best friends and business partners like he’d assumed. They’d barely spoken two words to each other since Levi had gotten to Queens, they didn’t touch like he and Levi did, but they looked at each other a lot. They communicated in glances, like now, and the intimacy was hard to miss.

  “Seraphina did it.” Israel sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “She did i
t.”

  Dutch cocked his head. “You know this how?”

  “She told me she would. And she was there last night, which I’m sure you know.” Everything in his body language said the last thing Israel wanted to do was be here, exchanging words with Dutch. His face was a scowl, like he’d tasted something sour.

  “And you didn’t think to stop her?” Dutch asked, tone incredulous.

  Israel laughed. “You serious? Like I care if those two destroyed each other? Fuck outta here, clown ass—”

  “Is.” Reggie issued the warning in a growl.

  “Maybe you and your mother were in on it,” Dutch mulled out loud. “I mean, she is your mother and even someone like you must have had some kind of feelings for her.”

  “Dutch, don’t go there right now,” Reggie said.

  “Someone like me?” Israel shrugged off Reggie’s hand on his arm and stalked over to Dutch, standing over him. “Someone you can’t touch? Someone you can’t fuck with?”

  “I meant a drug dealer with mommy issues.”

  The fuck?

  Israel lunged at Dutch, who didn’t so much as twitch. But Reggie grabbed his friend around the waist, preventing him from pistol whipping Dutch. Obviously Dutch had a death wish.

  “Yo, you got me fucked up.” Israel pushed Reggie away. “Deal with this fool before I shoot him where he sits,” he told Reggie. “Matter of fact, get him out of my house before he gets his ass lit.” Spinning to face Dutch again, he rasped, “Don’t mistake me for my brother. When I put you on your knees that’s where the fuck you stay. Thought you knew about me, but if you ain’t know, you better ask around.” As he stomped away he said, “I know the deal you made with Seraphina, so if I were you I’d be careful what you say and do next.”

  Van eyed Dutch. “You just might get that death wish you been angling for fulfilled.”

  “Really, Dutch?” Reggie shook his head. “I ask you for a favor and you turn around and fuck shit up. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Dutch watched him with a slight smile on his face. “You did just hear him threaten my life, right?”

  Reggie sighed. “I like you,” he said to Dutch. “But I love him, so I’d suggest you start acting right, otherwise I’d be right beside him tossing your body into a shallow grave.” His gaze turned pointed. “Maybe you need to get you one of those.”

  “A shallow grave?” Dutch lifted an eyebrow.

  “Somebody you’d be willing to bury a body with,” Levi spoke up. At least that’s what he thought Reggie was saying.

  “Dutch doesn’t need dick,” Van said in disgust. “He needs a bullet through that dead heart of his. But fuck all that noise, you know who shot Seraphina right? Ain’t that the reason you here, pouring gasoline and tossing lit matches onto bridges?”

  “Always a way with words, but yes.” Dutch nodded. “Beau Rudd, her second in command. At least he was, back when she was in her element.” He patted the briefcase. “Got him on surveillance, two block over last night, driving away minutes after the shots.”

  “You know where he’s at now?” Reggie asked.

  “Why? So and your man can kill him?” Dutch shook his head. “I already picked him up. He’s got information and I aim to get it. No one’s killing him.”

  Van grabbed Levi’s hand and dragged him away, toward the stairs. “I’m sorry.” He clasped Levi’s face in his hands. “I didn’t expect this when I came to New York. When I came to you.” Sorrow glittered in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No. Izek was nearly fucking shot and I—” Van broke off, touching his forehead to Levi’s. “My dad’s dead, and maybe one day I’ll feel something other than relief that he’s not around to fuck with us.”

  Levi nodded, because yeah. Relief. It was loud and heavy in his chest. “Seraphina…”

  Van shuddered against him. “She destroyed me. Then she takes a bullet for my son. Our son. Jesus.”

  They stood at the bottom of the stairs, clutching each other.

  “I love you,” Levi whispered. “We’re safe. Our son is safe, and we have each other.” The most important thing. The best thing.

  “Where’s your wedding ring?” Van asked.

  Levi frowned. “Safe deposit box.” No matter how angry and hurt he was, he could never make himself get rid of that piece of jewelry. “Why?”

  “I love you. Obsessively.” Van grinned. “In a million insanely possessive, jealous and blood-thirsty ways.” His grin widened. “Be my husband. Again.”

  Levi’s mouth opened.

  “Give me you and Izek, in Seattle. No lies. No secrets. Just us. Away from all of it.”

  The last time he’d been the one to ask. To fumble, and stammer and stand there waiting for an answer while his heart pounded and he sweated. “Yes.”

  * * * *

  “Hey.”

  Israel turned away from the kitchen counter he’d been gripping with cold fingers. Donovan stood behind him gaze cautious.

  “What’s up?”

  “Are you okay?” Donovan came in closer, eyes squinting. “You don’t look so good.”

  Israel chuckled. “Are you okay?”

  Donovan didn’t answer. Yeah, Israel didn’t think he was either. After a few seconds of silence, Donovan said, “I’m sorry about your mother.”

  “I think you’re a better man than me,” Israel told him. “She’s alive, right?” She’d jumped in front of a bullet. An altruistic act or something more, Israel really didn’t know.

  “Too bad we can’t say the same about the old man.”

  Nah, they couldn’t say the same. But Mark Dulles had been no father, not to Donovan. Definitely not to Israel. Therefore he’d had no problems sanctioning that hit. He only wished he could have been the one to deliver that death blow. Not anything as fucking harmless as a forced heart attack either.

  For Mark Dulles, Israel would have gotten over his aversion to blood.

  Too late now. For doing him that favor, killing the man who’d fathered him, he now owed Dima Zhirkhov all kinds of shit. Small price to pay. A voice in the back of his head wondered why he hadn’t done the same for Seraphina Cook. That voice also wondered why it’d hurt him so fucking bad, the sight of her on the ground in his backyard, a bullet in her chest. He’d have gone hunting for the gunman, except then he’d have shown it.

  His caring for her.

  His need for her.

  Which would lose him this, the man standing in front of him. Israel couldn’t lose this. He wanted Donovan in his life just as fiercely as he didn’t want to want Seraphina in it.

  “Do you think she killed him?” Donovan asked.

  Israel drew in a breath. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “She’s in the hospital?”

  “Yeah, she’s gonna be fine.” He didn’t let the relief color his words, didn’t let it loosen his shoulders. But it bubbled inside him, that relief that he hadn’t lost another mother.

  “What deal did she make with Dutch?”

  Israel shrugged. “You for our father. Dutch gave him to her and in turn she promised to leave you and your family alone.”

  “Okay.” Donovan nodded. His gaze darted around the room then came back to Israel. “You know, you don’t have to choose. I never expected that of you and if you have to, do it because of you, not because of me.”

  Israel didn’t acknowledge his words. Didn’t even consider it.

  A smile curved Donovan’s mouth. “So. I’m getting married. Again.”

  “Huh. Thought you were already married.”

  Donovan waved a hand. “Semantics.” His gaze sharpened on Israel’s face. “I’m gonna need a best man.”

  Israel bit back a grin. “My schedule’s wide open.”

  “We haven’t picked a date yet.”

  “Like I said, wide open.”

  Donovan laughed then sobered quickly. “We’re gonna be moving back to Seattle.”

  “I’m in love with a man who ow
ns a plane.”

  “Nice.”

  And just like that they were in each other’s arms. Hugging. Israel squeezed Donovan tight, patted his back. This was what it felt like. This warmth. The overprotectiveness. The drive to make sure Donovan was okay. He remembered finding out he had a brother, with a name and a job description.

  Fed.

  He remembered vowing it would never matter. That he didn’t need a brother. He had Reggie. He had his friends. But he’d never had this. He would kill anyone who tried to take it away.

  As Donovan clasped Israel’s nape, he realized that he’d do to Seraphina what he’d done to Mark Dulles if she tried to hurt Donovan in any way again.

  Wasn’t any choice to make after that.

  “What’s going on with you and Reggie?” Van asked when they released each other.

  Israel snorted. “I fucked up, that’s what’s going on.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll fix it.” Van sounded so damn confident, Israel had to grin.

  “True dat.”

  Donovan and his family left a short time later, went back to Coney Island. The house was once again empty, save for Reggie who’d made himself scarce after he’d allowed that fucker Dutch into Israel’s place.

  He climbed the stairs after locking up. Made his way to their bedroom. Found Reggie in their bed, lying on his back with pillows propping up his head and shoulders, spliff between his lips. He was fully dressed, jeans and a blue long-sleeved t-shirt, booted feet crossed.

  He met Israel’s gaze as he stepped into the bedroom. “Your brother and his family gone?”

  “Yeah.” Israel climbed up onto the bed next to him, stretched out. “He’s getting married. I’m his best man.”

  Reggie gave him a small laugh. “Look how far you’ve come, huh?”

  So very far, and it was all because of Reggie.

  “Here.” Reggie handed off the weed, and as Israel put it between his lips, Reggie said, “You killed Dulles.”

  Was no question, because Reggie knew him too fucking well. “Yuh dun know.” He handed back the joint and they chiefed in silence. Contentment was this. He didn’t need anything else. When Reggie handed back the weed, Israel took it before twisting their fingers around each other, held Reggie from pulling away. “I’m sorry, Reg. For that lie.” As simple as it had been at the time, as innocuous as it appeared, that stupid lie could have destroyed this. For what?