That makes no sense.
“Why would my dad want to believe that?”
“Because it’s easier to point a finger than to take the blame.”
I let those words sink in and rack my foggy brain trying to recall if there was a time in my life where my dad owned his sins, but I fall short.
“Look, I don’t know your old man, but it seems like he’s made some choices in his life that are tied to some pretty big consequences.”
It wasn’t all that long ago that I thought the same thing. In fact, it was the argument I used against him when I got the job at “Ask Ida,” and I probably would’ve used it again had I brought Marco to the clubhouse as planned.
I won’t deny the fact my father is a man who has done more bad than good. He’s hurt people and torn families apart. He’s broken the law and gotten away with it more times than any one person should ever be allowed. But he’s my dad and while he’s made a mess of his life, it’s me who failed him.
“He made a career being a criminal,” Tig continues. “Prison might as well be his retirement plan.”
“Maybe so, but if I would’ve listened to him, if I would’ve stayed away from Marco—”
“He’d still be in a cell, only he’d be looking at fifteen years and not five.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The deal your father took was Marco’s idea.”
“My mother, his attorney, worked out that deal with the district attorney,” I argue.
“Your mother looked over the deal, sweetheart,” he reveals. “Listen, let’s say Marco didn’t go to work yesterday—let’s say you and him played hooky and stayed home all day. You think that’s going to stop the department from taking down a criminal? Every man with a badge would’ve raided that clubhouse regardless, and everything would have played out exactly the way it did. Except your father wouldn’t have asked to speak to Marco, and Marco wouldn’t have convinced him to work with the cops.”
He almost had me until that last line. There is no way in hell my father is voluntarily cooperating with anyone. Least alone, Marco.
“If that’s the story Marco told you—”
“Marco doesn’t lie to me, Antonia. If you would just hear him out, you’d realize he is the noblest guy you’ll ever meet. If you don’t believe me, ask your father.”
“My father would never agree with that.”
“You sure about that?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.
“Are you seriously telling me my father doesn’t believe Marco set him up? That he wasn’t using me?”
“I’m telling you your father trusts Marco enough to take the deal and leave his daughter in his capable hands.” He pauses and shakes his head. “You don’t see it, do you?”
“I’m a little drunk…”
“He’s in love with you, Antonia, and it’s fucking killing him that you think he would intentionally hurt you.” He roughs a hand over his cheek before pinning me with a look. “Do you know he sat outside your house all night in case one of your father’s enemies decided to show up? Not as a cop. He didn’t have his badge or his gun on him. He was there as a man and he protected what’s his.”
It was a lot to absorb.
The declaration of love.
The revelation that Marco considered me his.
My dad putting his trust in a cop.
It was all too much, and it was everything I wanted to hear. Tears roll down my cheeks as I stare back at Tig.
“He told you he loved me?”
Muttering a curse, he drops his hand from his cheek and shakes his head.
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
“Does that mean you’re not giving me a tattoo?”
“It means I’m taking you home to Marco and he can answer that question himself.”
My treacherous heart betrays me once again because I don’t argue with Tig. I want everything he’s saying to be true. I want to obliterate the line that separates us.
But most of all, I want Marco’s love.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Marco
It turns out scoring the deal for Tank wasn’t as hard as I expected it to be. Tank had more on Bendetti than Floyd or Tony figured and when Tank told Floyd he had proof, that Bendetti killed his young son, Floyd became putty in his Tank’s hand. Not only was he able to negotiate his sentence with the district attorney, but he also managed to get them to drop the charges on his VP, Cash, something I found out when Cash showed up at Antonia’s house this morning and told me to get lost.
After Tank and I came to an understanding of our own, his hotshot lawyer showed—or should I say Antonia’s mom arrived ready to turn shit up. I left them to work out the details of his deal and went downstairs to speak with Antonia. Not only did I want to make things right with her and explain myself, but I also wanted to tell her Tank had given us his blessing.
He didn’t give me a handshake and welcome me into the family with open arms. That wasn’t his style. Instead, he threatened to maim me if I went against my word to protect his daughter.
If you hurt her, it won’t matter where I am, I’ll see to it you’re dead.
It was very heartwarming and made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside—not.
Anyway, when I found Antonia, she still wanted no part of me, and she made it very clear by delivering a right hook to my face.
I know, I know.
I’ve gotten my ass kicked more in the last two weeks than I have in all my years on this earth.
Whatever, man.
Sometimes we gotta take a little pain with our pleasure.
Nothing great ever comes easy.
That’s why I drove to her house as soon as I left the station and sat outside all night. She wouldn’t answer my calls, but I couldn’t leave her to herself. I could give her space, but if one of Tank’s enemies got wind of what was going on, they might see her as a target, and no one was going to touch her on my watch. She was mine now whether she knew it or not and I take care of what’s mine.
Cash showed a little after eight in the morning and briefed me a little on how things work in the Corrupt Hellraiser’s world. Since it didn’t look like Antonia was going to talk to me anytime soon, I left Cash at the house. I don’t know if he got through to her, though.
I don’t know anything.
She’s still not answering my calls or even Soraya’s calls.
She didn’t show up for work, but I didn’t expect her to.
And when I drove by her house, it was pitch dark. There was no sign of any of the Corrupt Hellraisers either. I’m giving her until eight o’clock to come to her senses. If she doesn’t call me back or at least text me, I’m going to search all of fucking New York until I find her. I’m going to throw her over my shoulder and handcuff her to my bed. One way or another, the girl is going to hear me out and after I tell her the entire truth, I’m going to tell her she’s stuck with me.
If she doesn’t like it, too bad.
She shouldn’t have made me go and fall in love with her.
The doorbell rings, jarring my attention away from the digital clock I’ve been staring at for the last hour. I glance at my door and back at the clock. Look at her coming to her senses with two minutes to spare.
I jump off the couch and hurry to my door. Instead of it being Antonia on the other side, it’s Tig.
“Christ, you look like shit,” he mutters as he drinks me in.
“In case you didn’t get the memo, I’m not really in the mood for you,” I tell him.
I’m about to shut the door in his face, but he wedges his boot in the doorway and shoves the door wide open with the palm of his hand. Grabbing the front of my shirt with the other hand, he pulls me out of my apartment.
“Hey, what the fuck are you doing?”
“You think you’re the only one who’s having a rough night? I’ve had my hands full for the last two hours. Now, I’d appreciate it if you collected your belongings from the back of my tr
uck so I can get the hell home to my wife.”
“My belongings? What the hell are you talking about?”
Not bothering with a reply, he turns and starts for the stairs. I follow him down the three flights and out the door. He walks to his truck parked at the curb and opens the backseat. Stepping to the side, he waves a hand.
“She’s all yours, pal.”
My eyes narrow as they move from him to the beauty sprawled across his backseat.
“Careful, she’s thrown up three times since we left the shop,” he adds.
Hurrying to the truck, I grit my teeth.
“What the hell did you do to her?”
“Hey, she was already three sheets to the wind when she got to the shop. I just gave her a little Tequila to get her talking. You’re welcome, by the way.”
I look back to Antonia. He wasn’t exaggerating about the throw up. She reeks and I’m pretty sure she’s got some in her hair. I gather her in my arms and lift her out of the backseat. Tig shuts the door and rushes to my apartment building. He holds the door for me and follows me upstairs. Once I’ve got her safely in my apartment, he leaves.
Unsure what to do with her, I contemplate my options. I can lay her down on my bed and let her sleep it off, but she’s a mess. A shower it is. I take three steps before she starts to stir in my arms. She slowly opens her eyes and tries to lift her head from my shoulder.
“Marco?”
“Shhh,” I whisper. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now.”
I don’t know if those words soothe her or if she’s too tired to argue, but her head drops back to my shoulder and I fight the urge to kiss her. You don’t realize how empty your arms have been until you hold your world in them.
Reaching the bathroom, I gently set her on the counter. She lifts her head and I push the hair away from her face. Cupping her cheeks, I stare at her.
“Look at me,” I coax softly.
Tears slide down her cheeks as those beautiful brown eyes peer back at me. The last time they were on me, they were filled with anger, pain, and even hate. Now, they’re just sad.
So fucking sad.
“My dad is going to prison, Marco.”
Swallowing, I thumb her tears away and nod.
“It’s not your fault,” she whispers.
Relief swarms me, and I go to kiss her, but her face suddenly pales. Reaching out, she fists my shirt and lurches forward. Before I can ask her what’s wrong, she hurls all over me. It takes me a second to process what’s happening, but instead of pushing her away, I find myself wrapping my arms around her and smoothing a hand down her back.
“Let it out,” I whisper. “I got you.”
From this day forward.
I’ve got you.
* * *
I used to look at other couples like Tig and Delia, Richie and Tina, even Graham and Soraya, and think they were fools. Sure, they looked happy and all that, but to be tied to one person for the rest of your life seemed like overkill to me. Then I’d listen to Tig talk about Delia, and I saw the love in his eyes. The admiration and respect he had for her took over his whole face when he spoke of her and sometimes, I wondered how something like that happens to a man.
How does a man go from only caring about himself to living simply to love someone else?
One day you’re dreaming of fast cars and trips to Vegas, the next you’re watching the woman you love sleep in your bed. Your mind wanders, but it’s not Ferraris and showgirls that consume your thoughts. It’s her in a big white dress and three kids climbing into your bed on a Sunday morning. It’s holidays and trips to Disney. It’s fighting over the outstanding bills but making up before you both climb into bed because you made a promise to never go to sleep angry. It’s the long nights you spend loving her between the sheets and the late mornings you hold her tight. It’s the times you find yourself in a crowded room, staring at her, wondering how the fuck you got so lucky.
One day you get the answer to your question and you learn it just happens. There is no rhyme or reason. When the right person comes along, you wave your white flag high and surrender your soul. You let love in.
You get a fucking CAT scan too.
You know, just to be sure you’re not losing your fucking mind.
Safety first, guys!
“It wasn’t a dream.”
The sound of her groggy voice pulls me away from my thoughts and I focus on the beauty in my arms.
“What wasn’t?”
“You.”
She stares at me for a beat before she closes her eyes and groans miserably.
“Why does it feel like there’s a mariachi band in my head?”
Suppressing a laugh, I smooth a hand over the top of her head.
“You hit the bottle a little too hard last night and showed up at Tig’s tattoo shop. He brought you here.”
“I remember that,” she says, opening her eyes. “I also remember throwing up in his truck three times. Oh God, he must hate me.”
“Impossible,” I reply, and she turns her head. Our eyes lock, and she reaches out to touch a hand to my cheek. “You want me to get you some Tylenol?”
She shakes her head, gently rubbing her thumb back and forth over my skin.
“Tig told me what you did.”
Confused, I raise an eyebrow. She’s going to have to be more specific because I’ve done a lot of shit.
“You helped my dad get the deal.”
Drawing out a sigh, I cover her hand with mine.
“I tried to tell you,” I start, pausing to intertwine our fingers. Bringing our joined hands to my lips, I brush a kiss across her knuckles. “Antonia, I didn’t know what was going to happen yesterday. The sergeant in charge needed extra hands, and he ordered me and my partner to change into our street clothes. We weren’t even briefed until we were pulling into the compound and as soon as I realized what we were doing, I tried to get out of it. I explained that all to your father, and I also explained that I love you. I realized it when I was standing in front of your father, asking him to lower his weapon. I had the sergeant in my ear, giving me permission to shoot, but I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it. Faced with a choice, my job, or you, I choose you. I know it didn’t look that way when you saw me taking your father out of there with cuffs, but I swear—”
She cuts me off.
“I believe you,” she whispers, her eyes full of tears. “I’m sorry for all the things I said and for punching you.”
“Nice right hook,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. It works because she gives me a small smile. But it quickly fades, and her expression grows serious.
“What happens now?”
If there was ever a loaded question, I’m pretty sure that’s it.
“Well, for starters, we’re going to get showered and dressed and get our asses down to the courthouse because your father is going in front of the judge in an hour. Before they take him to Rykers, you’re going to talk to him and I’m going to be right by your side.”
The dam breaks and the tears fall as I continue.
“Then we’re going to come home and I’m going to take care of you. We’ll take it one day at a time. No more doubts. No running from one another. Lean on me, Antonia, give me your trust and let me love you because it’s all I want to do.”
Today, tomorrow, every fucking day until I die.
I just want to love her.
* * *
“You have five minutes,” Antonia’s mom says, her eyes darting between Tank and their daughter. She steps away, giving them their privacy, but I don’t follow her lead. I promised I’d be by Antonia’s side and unless she tells me otherwise, that’s where I’ll remain.
“So, this is it,” Antonia whispers as she stares at her father.
“For now,” he says hoarsely. “We don’t have much time so I’m going to cut straight to chase. I don’t want you to be sad, Tonia. I don’t want you to spend these next five years crying over me. I’ll be fine, especially knowing you’re
out here living the life you want.” He pauses to swallow and looks down at his shackled hands. “I shouldn’t have given you crap about that job of yours and I shouldn’t have doubted your judgment,” he says as he lifts his head and looks at me. “I was wrong.”
He turns back to Antonia.
“Of all the men—”
“I know, I know,” she whispers. “He’s a cop.”
“Of all the men, you found the one worthy,” he says. His gaze slices back to me. “Don’t make me eat my words, officer.”
“I won’t,” I rasp. “You have my word.”
He nods and focuses his attention back to his daughter.
“I love you, sweetheart. More than anything in this world.” His voice cracks, and his eyes fill with water. “Never forget that.”
Antonia lets go of my hand and rushes toward Tank, throwing her arms around his neck. As she hugs him his wrists strain against the metal digging into his flesh. I turn to the bailiff. Pulling my badge from under my shirt, I flash it at him.
“He’s not a flight risk, undo the cuffs.”
“Officer—”
“Let the man hug his daughter,” I grind out, clenching my jaw tight.
He mumbles something under his breath and moves to Tank. Antonia pulls away from her father and turns around, her eyes questioning mine. I tip my chin and she diverts her attention to the bailiff, watching as he removes the cuffs from her father’s wrists. Tank closes the distance between them, but instead of hugging, he lifts his hands to her face and traces every angle.
He brings her face closer and presses his lips to her forehead. The tears he was holding fall freely as he wraps his arms around her.
I’m a man who didn’t realize how empty his arms were until he held the world in them, and Tank is a man who, until now, didn’t realize how full his were. Two men divided by difference yet bound by one woman we consider our world.
Tank opens his eyes and looks at me.
“Thank you,” he rasps.
I nod, but I really should be the one paying thanks here.
Without Tank, there would be no Antonia, and my arms would still be empty.
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