I Thee Take: To Have and To Hold Duet Book Two

by Knight, Natasha

  “It wasn’t your fault you weren’t there. And if you had been, what the fuck for? To die? To fucking die?”

  “I was getting my dick sucked for the first time. That’s what I was doing while you were being attacked. While you were being slaughtered like fucking animals.” I hear grief morph into rage at the last part. Grief turned into pain and rage.

  I take a breath in, try to keep steady because he needs me to keep steady. To be the foundation, the rock he can rest on.

  The room is so small, it only takes two strides to get to him. I put my hand on his shoulder. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

  “I’m not saying it was. I just…I don’t fucking know.” He shoves my hand off and turns back to the window. It’s quiet for a long minute. “Do you sometimes wish you’d died with them?”

  It takes me a long time to answer. “I used to. But then I’d get angry. I’d make myself see Rinaldi, see him with the knife at mom’s throat.”

  I don’t tell him the other part. Dante doesn’t know what Rinaldi did to her before he killed her. I hadn’t realized my uncle knew but I guess it makes sense. Any medical examiner would have known and told him.

  Dante turns to look at me.

  “I’d think about that and I’d think about why I survived. And it gives me strength. Strength I needed to wake up and get out of bed for a long time. I will avenge our family. I will not rest before that happens.”

  “What about Scarlett? You chose her over that vengeance.”

  Now it’s my turn to shift my gaze away as I rub the back of my neck. “Scarlett has complicated things.”

  “How?”

  Fuck.

  I face my brother but don’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m in love with her.”

  It’s the first time I say it out loud. First time I really hear it. Understand it.

  I focus on my brother’s eyes. I can’t tell what he thinks at hearing this. His features are schooled, steady, we’re both good at that. He studies me and I let him. It’s all I can do. Because this is the truth, and he deserves the truth.

  He nods, turns his gaze downward. I think how he’s sobered up since I first walked into this room.

  “I know you don’t like or trust her. I understand. But I know she’s as much a victim as our family was.”

  He shifts his gaze back to mine. “What if she’s not who you think, Cristiano? What if she betrays you?”

  “She won’t.”

  “What if she does?”

  Something twists inside my chest. “Then I’ll deal with her,” I say, my voice tight.

  “What if you don’t make it to deal with her?”

  I steel myself. It won’t happen, I tell myself.

  “What if you don’t make it to deal with her?” he asks again a little more forcefully.

  “It won’t come to that.”

  “What if it does?”

  “You don’t touch her. You don’t lay a finger on her. Whether I’m dead or alive. You protect her.”

  He snorts.

  I grab his shoulder. “You. Protect. Her.”

  His eyes narrow.

  “For me,” I say.

  Nothing.

  “Promise me, Dante. Promise me if anything happens to me, you’ll protect her. Keep her safe.”

  Gazes locked, we stand quiet for a long moment. She won’t betray me. I know that.

  Dante nods tightly once and it’s in that moment I truly grasp that my brother is a man. And that he is capable. And that he is capable of violence. Because his nod wasn’t his acquiescence. The opposite.

  If something happens to me, he’ll punish Scarlett. I know it.

  If I die, she dies.

  It will not come to that.

  “I’m looking for the girl,” he says. I’m confused. He must see it because he continues. “From that night.”

  “Why?”

  He sighs. Shrugs his shoulders. “She disappeared. When I called the number she gave me, it was disconnected. When I went to the apartment I thought was hers, it was empty. I was drunk. So fucking drunk but this thing it’s fucking with me, Cris. It’s making me doubt my own memories.”

  He’s not alone in that.

  I watch him, watch the confusion in his eyes. See the self-doubt that is too familiar. I wrap a hand around the back of his head and tug him to me. We hug. We haven’t hugged in a while.

  “We’ll figure it out. Together. Okay? We’ll figure this shit out.”

  He gives me a smile when I pull back. “I should apologize to the cop. I was an asshole.”

  “Yeah. You should. I’ll make sure he’s paid well but you should.” I open the bedroom door and we step into the hallway. “Question for you. Are you keeping the supplies in the tunnel up to date?”

  He smiles. “Yeah. I have been for a while. Dad said it was you and Michael who’d have to do it but you couldn’t so the task fell to me. You went down there?”

  I nod. “Does anyone else know about it?”

  He shakes his head. “No way. Dad said just us.”

  “How’d you get there?”

  “I’d come in from the other side when we were in hiding.”

  “So Uncle David doesn’t know either?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Keep it that way. Let’s go home.”

  20

  Scarlett

  Cristiano closes the door and sits on the couch. He returned to the island an hour ago with his brother who looked a little worse for wear.

  I take a seat beside him.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  He scrubs his face then takes Cerberus’s eager one into his hands. He looks at the dog who makes a whining noise as if he feels his master’s agitation.

  I hear one of Cristiano’s signature grunts as he turns his attention to me and pets Cerberus absently.

  “You remember how to move the rock to get into the tunnel?”

  I nod. He just showed me last night.

  “If anything happens to me, you go. Take your brother and go.”

  “What?”

  “Keep Cerberus by your side as long as you can. He’ll protect you.” He gets up, goes to his desk and opens a drawer to take out a pouch. He holds it out to me.

  I take it and feel the jagged edges of whatever is inside, the weight.

  “There’s cash in there and information on the bank account where there’s more. It’s in your new name. Everything you need to disappear is inside including new passports. If anything happens, you call Charlie. He’s the only one you call, do you understand?”

  I unzip the bag, look inside it, look back up at him. “Cristiano—”

  “I put his name and—”

  “I don’t want a gun,” I say as I look inside to find a small pistol, more cash than I can count, two passports and a key.

  “Noah will handle the gun. The car is at the dock where you’ll exit the tunnel. The information—”

  “Cristiano.” I walk around the desk, set the pouch on top of it and take his face in my hands, making him look at me. “What the hell are you talking about? What happened that you’re giving me this?”

  He takes a deep breath in and just looks at me for a long minute. “I love your eyes, you know that?”

  “What happened with your brother?”

  “They’re so expressive. So open.”

  He’s distracting me but the look in his, something about it breaks my heart. “Only for you.”

  He smiles at that but it’s a sad smile. “In your eyes I see the real you. I see inside to your soul. And I feel your heart, Scarlett.” He puts the flat of one hand over my heart and takes hold of mine to place it over his. “I feel you.”

  He leans down, kisses my mouth, then pulls me into his chest, trapping my hand between us as he wraps his arms around me. He lays his lips on my forehead before cupping the back of my head to hold me against him and rests his head on top of mine. “I didn’t think this would happen. And now of all things. Fuck my timing.”r />
  I draw back, look up at him. “You didn’t think what would happen?”

  He studies me for a long moment.

  “What?” I push.

  “I didn’t think I would fall in love with a De La Cruz.”

  I’m startled. It takes me a long minute to process his words. That single word. Love.

  My heart flutters, my belly doing a tumble and I’m still not sure I heard right. Not sure I understand. I reach up to touch the scruff of hair on his jaw. More than two days’ worth now.

  “Specifically, I didn’t think I’d fall in love with stubborn as hell Scarlett De La Cruz.” We look at each other, just look at each other. “I love you, Scarlett.”

  “I love you, too, Cristiano.”

  He wipes away the tear that slips from my eye. I see the shadows under his, dark like he hasn’t rested in days. Years.

  “You didn’t sleep.”

  He shakes his head.

  “What happened with your brother?”

  It’s cold when his arms fall away from me. He steps back, sits in his chair and sighs deeply. “I have more enemies than I can count.”

  I sit on his lap and slip my hand into his. He takes it, intertwines his fingers with mine and looks at our bound hands.

  “I’m not your enemy. And I’m not going anywhere without you, Cristiano,” I say, studying him in profile.

  His gaze meets mine. “If it comes to it, you are.” He sets me on my feet and stands up again. He’s anxious, I feel it. “I want to show you something,” he says and, keeping my hand in his, we leave the study. We stop to put on jackets before walking out of the house and into the overcast, windy day.

  “I need to talk to you actually,” I start, almost forgetting the reason I needed to talk to him.

  “Later,” he says, keeping hold of my hand as we climb the steep rocks to the west of the island. The wind is stronger here and I duck my head against it, shivering in the cooler temperature as clouds overtake the sun completely.

  “Where are we going?” I ask once we’ve crested the hill. The wind is stronger here. Almost violent. I have to keep pushing the hair off my face and I won’t let go of his hand for fear I’ll be blown away.

  “There,” he says.

  I see what he’s pointing to a little distance ahead of us. My mouth falls open because there, built into the rock face is a mausoleum.

  “It’s carved into the stone,” he starts as we reach the foreboding front face. “The façade is marble. My grandfather added on to it. You can see the difference in the veining. He couldn’t get exactly the same.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like this.” It’s large, taking up the entire side of the rock here. And I can see where the addition was made. It’s beautiful and eerie at once. “Is it always this windy up here?”

  He points to the darker clouds in the distance. “There’s a storm coming.” We walk up the steps leading to the huge, metal door. He looks back down at me. “Are you scared?”

  I look from the door up to him. “Not with you.”

  He smiles.

  “But I wouldn’t come up here alone in the dead of night or anything,” I add as a sudden chill makes me shudder.

  “That’s wise,” he says with a smile pulling me to him momentarily, big hand warm on my back. “More for the cliff than the dead. You have nothing to fear from the ghosts of my family.” He turns to the door before finishing the sentence and pushes it open. It’s heavy. I can tell from the effort it takes. Cristiano ushers me inside as it creaks.

  In here the air is different. There’s a stillness almost as if the ocean isn’t just beyond. Like the wind isn’t attempting to blow us off the top of this cliff. And it’s spotless. I guess I expected dust. Cobwebs. Creepy creatures in the darkest corners. But someone is taking care of the place. There’s even a lamp that’s burning a dim red.

  “It’s one of the first things I did,” he says of the lantern. He releases my hand and walks toward the stone altar where the crucified Christ hangs overhead. I look up at him, make the sign of the cross.

  He watches me, then shifts his gaze to wiping something off the altar, rearranging some of the things there.

  “What are they?” I ask, stepping closer.

  “My mom’s rosary beads. They should have buried them with her but didn’t. I don’t know why. These are their wedding bands.” He picks one up and turns it to read the engraving inside. Then hands it to me.

  Inside is one word but it’s in a language I don’t know.

  “What does it say?”

  “Eternal, in my father’s.” He picks up the other one. “In my mother’s, Love.” He sets both back on the counter. “Latin.”

  “Should you leave them here? I mean, they’re valuable.”

  “No one comes up here but me or Dante.”

  I look at the rosary. “Are those sapphires?”

  He nods. “Lenore said dad had it made for mom. She kept them and only gave them to me when I woke up. And this is Elizabeth’s favorite bear. She never even had a chance to wear it out.”

  I watch his hand fist around it. He turns away. From where I’m standing, I see his jaw tighten before he finally puts the stuffed animal down. It seems to take everything he has to do it, to release his fist, release his rage.

  “What kind of monster kills a five-year-old girl?” he asks.

  I touch his shoulder but have no words, so I lay my cheek on his back.

  “Lenore stopped asking about Mara. I know she wants to every time she sees me but stops herself. Today, she mentioned that she loved her then corrected herself.”

  “I need to tell you something,” I say.

  “Past tense,” he continues like I haven’t spoken.

  “Cristiano,” I touch his shoulder. “There’s something you need to hear.”

  He turns to me. “What is it?”

  “When they killed my parents, Noah and I were separated for the first two years. They kept him in Mexico and brought me with them. He…the day of the wedding I was in your sister’s room. Do you remember?”

  He nods.

  “Noah came there to see me.”

  “I’m not really following.”

  “While I was getting dressed, he must have been looking at the pictures. There was one in particular that caught his eye.” I take a moment, look away as I consider. Should I tell him? What if Noah’s wrong? What if he isn’t but it’s still too late?

  “What is it, Scarlett?”

  “I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

  “What?”

  “He could be wrong. I mean, it’s been ten years and they were both so little.”

  His forehead wrinkles. He takes hold of my arms and squeezes. “Tell me.”

  “He recognized one of the girls. Elizabeth’s friend.”

  “What?”

  “Someone had written the names of all the little girls on the back.”

  “That’s what my brother saw? Noah with that photo?”

  Should I be surprised Dante mentioned it? “Yes.”

  “He shouldn’t—”

  “He recognized her, Cristiano. He recognized Mara.”

  This stops him. “What?”

  “He didn’t know her name, but he knew her face.”

  Cristiano shakes me once. “What are you talking about?”

  “He said they’d brought her to Mexico. He said Jacob had been fed up when she wouldn’t stop crying and told him to play with her. Jacob told him her name was Elizabeth but he’s pretty sure it was Mara from the picture.”

  “How?”

  “You said Mara’s body wasn’t found. They left a mess. They wouldn’t have hidden one body or disposed of one body. It makes no sense considering.”

  “What are you saying, Scarlett?”

  “Is it possible they kidnapped Mara thinking she was Elizabeth?”

  21

  Cristiano

  My head is swimming with thoughts of what Scarlett told me. Noah is off the island with
some of the men, so I haven’t been able to question him. I haven’t told Dante or Lenore. I won’t. Not until I can make sense of it myself.

  Is it possible Mara’s alive? Did they kidnap her thinking she was Elizabeth? To what end?

  Blackmail? Who? They’d thought they’d killed us all.

  But there’s one thing that makes sense and the thought makes me sick.

  I take a deep breath in. I need to stay focused on the task at hand. If Mara’s alive, I will get her back. Bring her home.

  “Sir,” the soldier peeks his head into my uncle’s study. I’m sitting behind my uncle’s desk looking through the photo album I found on it. “He’s pulling in now.”

  “Thank you.”

  I turn the page on the album and look at more photos of my mom. My brothers and sister. None of my dad in this one, but he was gone a lot. More of my uncle in these than there are in the albums at home. I’m just closing the album when I hear him having an exchange with the soldier I left standing outside the study door. A moment later, the door opens, and my uncle stands framed in the light of the hallway.

  He takes me in as I stand from his seat. I look him over, pick up the tumbler of whiskey and finish it. It’s not my brand, but it’ll do.

  “What the fuck, Cristiano?”

  “Close the door,” I tell him.

  “Oh, I should close the door to my own office behind me? I’ll ask you again. What. The. Fuck?”

  But he enters and closes the door.

  “And where’s Morgan?”

  “Morgan?”

  “The butler.”

  “Oh.” I always forget his name. But seriously? A fucking butler? “He’s having coffee.” With my men in the kitchen for the last hour. I didn’t want to lose the element of surprise.

  My uncle’s gaze shifts to the photo album on the desk. I pour us both a drink.

  “Your brand is in the cabinet underneath,” he says.

  “This will do.” I hand him his and lean on the desk as he takes a seat on the armchair along the wall.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I didn’t know the doctor who had treated me all those years had been killed.”