The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 2

by Bethany-Kris

  And what she really didn’t want to do?

  Be bent over the toilet in her private suite, puking into the porcelain bowl while a pregnancy test on the counter told a truth she had refused to admit until now. Somehow, she managed to pull the many layers of her chiffon gown away from the toilet before her small breakfast came rising in her throat.

  A feat of fate, she was sure.

  Standing from the toilet, she quickly flushed the mess down, avoiding looking at the spinning, disgusting water as it went down. That wasn’t the only thing she pointedly ignored, either. The blinking pregnancy test with it’s flashing Pregnant on the small screen taunted her as she went about washing her hands and checked her reflection in the mirror.

  Make up still perfect.

  Dress unstained.

  Certainly nothing to say her life as she knew it was ending today, and it was all because she had brought it on herself.

  Oh, her stare was dead, for certain. In her gaze, she found nothing. No emotion, and no life. So far, she had managed to hold it together for this horrible day. How long that would last ... Vanna didn’t know.

  Finally, she dropped her stare.

  The test looked back at her.

  Pregnant.

  The word flashed as fast and clearly as it had when she took the test twenty minutes ago. The test was supposed to take thirty seconds to give the positive or negative result. Like everything else in her life that seemed to be one giant joke lately, the test took all of ten seconds before the word Pregnant started to blink.

  That’s when she puked.

  When had she started to suspect?

  Vanna couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe it was the fact that two months ago, when Mario forced her into his home, she’d lost her freedom which meant also losing access to her doctor who handled any medication she needed. A missed appointment left her without the birth control shot that she had done religiously.

  Never failed.

  Until now.

  And then she had that moment with Bene in the restaurant bathroom. A split second of weakness where she didn’t think to say—I’m not safe. It wasn’t his fault, or hers, really. Bad decisions seemed to be par for the course with them, and this was just another one of those added onto a very high pile that was still growing every single day.

  Her period never came a month or so after missing the shot. It could take a while, the doctor had explained when she’d first starting getting it, and they were required to tell her every last detail of the birth control. She kept holding onto that—it would come.

  It didn’t.

  Her mornings went from ignoring the passing days on the calendar to attempting to hide the fact she vomited minutes after waking.

  Because God ...

  If Mario even suspected she was pregnant, he would know it couldn’t possibly be his child. She’d not let him touch her once, despite his efforts. Apparently, even a monster like him could have limits because he kept his word on that.

  For now.

  Until tonight.

  And damn ... what happened then?

  She stared at the pregnancy test again, remembering how quickly she had slipped into the gas station around the corner from the church to grab it while her chaperone stayed in the car, convinced she just needed some Tylenol for a headache.

  She had to know.

  Before she walked down the aisle.

  Before it all ended for her.

  She had to know.

  And now she did.

  She was pregnant with the child of a man she loved, but who hated her, and she learned the news on the day she would be forced to pledge her life, body and soul, to a man who wasn’t worthy to lick the soles of her white leather heels.

  Mario would kill her.

  And her child.

  Bene hated her.

  And he didn’t know about the baby.

  How did she fix this?

  She couldn’t.

  A knock on the bathroom door had Vanna glancing up and meeting her gaze in the reflection of the mirror. Gone was that passive, dead stare. Now, she found a line of water dampening her dark eyes, threatening to ruin her composure and the perfectly applied makeup that hid the bruises on her throat and her skin that didn’t quite gleam the same way it used to.

  “Yeah?” Vanna asked.

  “Are you okay in there?”

  She wished it was someone she cared about behind the door, waiting for her to finish helping her ready for her wedding. Her mother ... God, her father, even. She still loved her father; she always would, and she wished he was here to help her get through this awful day if she couldn’t, at least, have what she wanted.

  Someone who loved her.

  She wished this day was for her and someone else.

  She wished so many things.

  Things that could never be.

  Sorry, Daddy, she thought, sorry that I couldn’t do what you wanted me to. Sorry that I wasn’t who you wanted me to be. I’m sorry your vendetta couldn’t be mine.

  Because that was the thing, right?

  This vendetta had never really been hers.

  And look where it led her.

  Her gaze found the bouquet of white roses that she’d managed to toss on the side of the counter before throwing up her breakfast, and the string of rosary beads that twisted around the stems covered in white silk.

  Her father’s rosary.

  One of the only things she had left.

  She understood now that undoubtedly, her father’s choices and beliefs about a man and a family he thought wronged him was likely the making of his own blood. His father did that with his mistreatment, and constant rejection of Adam. He’d believed that if only he could convince his father he was worthy, and not the bastard he’d been told he was his whole life, then he and Gabriel would be better.

  Instead, his father died before it could happen.

  And he just passed on that unhealthy love to her.

  In a new way.

  “Vanna, are you listening?”

  No.

  She spoke so they didn’t break down the door.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” Vanna said.

  A lie.

  Another to add to the pile.

  Maybe Bene was right.

  Maybe she was just a fucking liar.

  In her blood.

  Fused to her DNA.

  How else could she survive now?

  How else would she protect this child?

  Bene’s child.

  Even if he hated her, she would do whatever she had to ... everything she needed to, even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness, to make sure his child was born alive, well, and loved. And maybe, someday, she could fix this.

  But today was not that day.

  And after today, her life was not her own.

  “You have five minutes before you need to be downstairs,” the woman behind the door called. “So, let’s not waste time. Everyone is antsy to get the ceremony started.”

  Right.

  “I’m coming.”

  Except she didn’t move.

  She couldn’t.

  Someone would drag her out of the bathroom.

  That she could promise.

  • • •

  Run.

  Run.

  Fucking run.

  Vanna’s thoughts kept screaming at her even though she knew it was impossible to do what her heart wanted. All it took was a look down the corridor outside of the doors leading into the main floor of the church to find the man standing there, watching her. At her stare, he had the nerve to cock his eyebrow, like she needed a reminder what he was standing there for. No, she knew very well.

  Not that he needed to, but if he raised his suit jacket, she knew a gun would be tucked into his waistband. At the ready, in case she decided to do anything stupid. Or, that’s how Mario put it when he visited her earlier. The bastard was determined to see this day through, no matter what.

  She didn’t have anyone t
o walk her down the aisle—yet another sad thing about this whole farce—so she was stuck waiting behind the large, double doors alone until the organ changed to the traditional wedding march.

  With a new chaperone.

  Who wouldn’t let her run.

  Her fingers curled tighter around the bouquet as she glanced to the side, in the opposite direct of her current chaperone. That way only led to the private quarters of the church where she had gotten ready under the watchful eye of Mario’s mother, and other women from the clan. The same women who practically pulled her from the room, and dragged her down the hall when she didn’t want to go willingly.

  A beautiful day for a wedding.

  Smile, it’s your wedding day.

  This is a privilege for you, Vanna.

  Their words still rung in her mind.

  Still taunted her.

  Vanna heard the music change beyond the closed doors—the church organ muted through the thick, darkly stained wood. The song that meant it was her turn to walk through the doors after the only person who went before her, a young girl from the clan who acted as a flower girl. Her gaze went back to the door, her veil shrouding her features just enough to hide the fact that she couldn’t smile, and she barely held back tears.

  God.

  She wanted to cry.

  More than anything.

  A part of her knew, though, Mario would like that too much. And besides, she had never been that woman. The one who cried her way through shit that was out of her control. No, she always fought her way through it, instead.

  This wasn’t one of those times.

  There was no escape.

  The doors were pushed open from the inside, making them swing toward her and giving her a good view of all the people standing inside the church. Instead of focusing on their faces, she stared at the white satin aisle runner dotted with red and white rose petals.

  She breathed deep.

  Willed away the pain.

  Prayed for the nausea to subside.

  The music played on—it was her turn to walk. All she needed to do was take one step, and then another. Keep going until she reached the end. To where Mario currently waited with a burning gaze zoned in on her like he could read her mind and knew exactly what was running through it. How she was still trying to figure a way out of this.

  Something.

  Anything.

  She could force herself to do this. She could.

  What choice did she have?

  But God ...

  She didn’t want to.

  That made it harder.

  Holding the bouquet tighter, letting her father’s rosary bite into her fingertips, she held the roses closer to her stomach. Her fingers brushed against the beaded bodice of her gown covering her still-flat abdomen, but just having that moment was enough to settle her nerves for the moment. She didn’t dare outright touch it.

  Not with all these eyes—

  “It’s a raid! It’s a raid!”

  Vanna swung around fast at the shouting coming from behind her, the bouquet falling from her hands to the floor. Her father’s rosary spilling to the carpeted entrance of the old church as the man rushed past her, one of the soldiers the Detti boss had demanded watch the outside of the church throughout the ceremony.

  He blew by her.

  Still shouting.

  Raid!

  It’s a raid!

  She didn’t care about him.

  It was the others coming in through the front of the church. And the ones she heard shouting from within the church, too.

  “Police! RCMP, everyone put your hands up!”

  “Police! RCMP! Les mains en l'air!”

  Vanna’s hands flew up high. She was one of the first to be arrested, RCMP officers spilling into the church through all entrances and exits. Hell, they brought everyone, it seemed. She hadn’t seen that many cops in one place in ... a long time.

  She didn’t get the chance to ask questions. Not anything beyond, “What am I being arrested for?”

  The cop’s answer?

  “Precautionary.”

  What the fuck did that mean?

  She also didn’t get to appreciate they ruined the wedding in the nick of fucking time. And after the cop who slapped the cuffs on her had dragged her out of the church and put her in the back of a cop car, Vanna was sure she saw a familiar figure watching from across the street. He looked the same as he always did—black leather, a face made to sin, and a dark gaze she could feel on her long after it was gone.

  Bene.

  He’d been there.

  Waiting.

  • • •

  “Miss Falco, is it?”

  Vanna glanced up from the sleeves of her hoodie where she had been pulling at the fabric to keep her hands busy. The plain-clothed cop that slipped into the room she had been housed in after arriving at the station gave her a smile.

  A tight one.

  It wasn’t warm at all.

  “That’s me,” she said, “but I can’t say I know who you are.”

  He arched a brow. “Constable Andrews, but you can call me Detective, if you’d like. I work with the division for—”

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “No.”

  “Then, why I am I still sitting here?”

  At least, someone had the decency to grab the bag of her clothes from the private dressing room in the church. A female cop accompanied her to a bathroom to change, and pack away the wedding dress and veil she hoped to never see again.

  No one answered her questions.

  She asked a lot.

  “We’ll get to that in a moment,” the detective said, closing the door behind him. “Before I ask a few questions, is there anything I can get for you?”

  Vanna scowled. “A lawyer?”

  “Do you think you’ll need one being you’re not under arrest, and I’m only here to ask a few cursory questions relating to your connection to your fiancé’s family, their business, and your previous status as an informant for a ... Constable Keefs?”

  She straightened in the chair.

  No one should have known about that, but especially not another cop. Her informant business with Keefs had been strictly between him and her, and when she refused to keep feeding him information, well it was over.

  That was it.

  “If I had any say,” Vanna muttered, “Mario Detti wouldn’t be my fiancé, for one.”

  The detective narrowed his gaze, rounding the table to pull out the metal chair on the other side so he could take a seat. “And their business?”

  “I don’t know anything about that.”

  Mostly true.

  “So, you wouldn’t know anything about the shipment of heroin we just picked up at the Niagara Falls border crossing that was coming to an address of a warehouse owned by your future father-in-law?”

  Vanna’s jaw ticked. “Can’t say I do, no.”

  All lies.

  She stumbled upon that information during one of the clan’s many family dinners, which she then snatched someone’s phone, took a bunch of pictures, and sent it off to Bene to do with it what he could, if he even wanted to. That had been two weeks ago, or a little more.

  “Are you also unaware of Mario Detti’s connection to Constable Keefs, who he was paying a large sum of money to monthly in order to keep the detective from passing over the information he had on the illegal dealings of the Detti family to his superiors and the team of investigators he was working with for the Guzzi investigation?”

  Her face stayed passive.

  Still like stone.

  “No, I don’t,” Vanna said quietly, “sorry.”

  The man nodded. He flipped through a paper in the folder on the table, and then another. The silence stretched on, causing her nerves to grow tight with every passing second. Was that his point? She hated to tell him, but this wasn’t even her worst experience of the day.

  “And you’re going to deny that you were the informant for Constable Ke
efs investigation into the Guzzi Cosa Nostra, as well?”

  “What would it matter, if I even was?”

  “It wouldn’t,” the man replied, “except with Constable Keefs being caught up in this bribery scandal with the Detti organization ... well, his word is unreliable, and any prosecutor worth his weight wouldn’t dare to put him on the stand. And without a cooperating informant to confirm the information pulled from Gian Guzzi’s home, as we only have digital photographs and recordings that could have been faked, with the right programs, well—”

  “His charges will be dropped.”

  “Most,” the man agreed, “yes. Unless, Miss Falco, you have something you would like to tell me.”

  Did she?

  Absolutely not.

  “I can’t say that I do,” she replied.

  As though that was the answer he expected, Constable Andrews dropped the folder to the table, and sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Well, then I’m very sorry for wasting your time today. You’ll be allowed to gather your belongings, and an officer will escort you out of the station whenever you’re ready to go. Unfortunately, your fiancé and many others in his family won’t get the same treatment ... seems we have quite enough on them currently to keep them right where they are.”

  Oh?

  Vanna almost smiled.

  “Shame, that,” she whispered.

  Yeah, a real fucking shame.

  Under the table, her hands stayed flat to her stomach. Protecting the growing life there. Hiding the proof of her baby away from the rest of the world.

  What would happen now?

  She had no clue.

  21.

  “At least, they let you get out of that monster of a dress.”

  Vanna’s head snapped up, the revolving doors she’d just stepped out of still spinning behind her. Gone was the large, poufy dress he’d watch her be arrested in only to be replaced with gray sweatpants, a similarly colored hoodie, and running shoes. It wasn’t her typical look, but he wasn’t at all shocked that she still managed to pull it off.