The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 2

by Bethany-Kris

  “If that’s—”

  “Where is Cella?”

  He hadn’t turned around to face his father or brother. The person who answered his most important question wasn’t Gian or Bene, however.

  “She left yesterday. Packed her kid up, walked out of the hospital, and wouldn’t explain shit to me when I tried to talk to her.”

  Marcus turned to find Chris had come back to the room, only now he leaned in the doorway. The blank expression on Chris’s face belied the anger he found in his brother’s stare.

  “She left?” he asked.

  “I tried to—”

  “She’s gone.”

  That time, it wasn’t even a question.

  A million and one things raced through Marcus’s mind in those few seconds where no one around him had anything to say. He wanted to demand answers, although it was clear no one would have any for him. He wanted to ask for someone’s phone so that he could call Cella himself and find out why she felt like she had to leave at a time like this. The rational part of his brain knew he couldn’t make a scene, certainly not one over a woman, and he also knew Cella ...

  Her history.

  This life.

  “All right,” Marcus said thickly.

  Chris cleared his throat. “Sorry, man.”

  Right.

  “Did you get my walking papers? I’m not staying in this hospital like a sitting duck for one more second.”

  “The doctor said you really should stay,” Chris said with a shrug. “Even for just the day, Marcus.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Not with this giant fucking hole in his heart.

  Nobody would fix that.

  • • •

  The voices of Marcus’s family filtered up through the stairwell as his brothers discussed what their next move would be in between phone calls. Those calls had to be made, if only because any made Guzzi man with sense would be currently wondering about the state of their boss. No doubt, word of the attack would have traveled through the grapevine, and now they needed updates. Not only that, but they needed direction.

  A stand down until otherwise notified.

  A lay low from all the media and police.

  Fucking hell.

  Marcus’s next couple of weeks would be full of dodging interviews with officials while also trying to plan his next, and final, move against the biker gang. Not to mention, the media attention that would be all over this fucking story.

  Things he didn’t need ...

  Bene and Chris took care of la famiglia’s side of things, which took something off his list to worry about for the moment. Chris would also be handling the personal side of things for Marcus while he was at it. All phone calls that weren’t from his immediate family would go through his personal assistant, who he still hadn’t spent more than five minutes with, but Chris assured the woman could handle it all. Everything else, he was told, would be only details.

  He needed to focus on work.

  Business.

  The bastards in Quebec.

  Or, that’s what he should be doing.

  Marcus, on the other hand, paced in his upstairs office as he listened to the conversation happening downstairs. A conversation he should absolutely join because his voice, as the acting boss, was really the only one that needed to be heard. And yet, he didn’t go down to join his brothers.

  Or his father.

  Gian accompanied him home, too, but was currently quiet downstairs.

  As for Marcus, well, he couldn’t stop looking at the goddamn phone on his desk. With every pass he made by the phone at the edge of the desk, the need growing inside his chest to just call her became more and more prominent. He couldn’t seem to ignore it no matter how hard he tried. The bigger problem was the other shit he felt.

  Bitterness.

  Betrayal.

  But how should one—someone like him—feel when he allowed someone like Cella into his life, gave her the parts of himself that he kept most protected, and then she was so quick to throw it aside when the inevitable happened.

  Because that was the thing ...

  This had been inevitable. Whether it happened yesterday, or four months from now, it would happen. That was just this life of theirs. Something was always right around the corner waiting to show them that one couldn’t escape the legacy following them.

  He understood this life had already taken from her, and no doubt, the thought of it taking more scared her away but that didn’t change how he felt.

  This heaviness.

  The loneliness.

  It didn’t answer his whys.

  “Are you going to call her, then?”

  Marcus had been reaching for the phone—his inner desires making themselves known without his physical permission—as his father asked the question from the doorway. He dropped his hand back to his side and spun on his heels to face Gian.

  “You don’t know how to knock?” he demanded.

  To his father’s benefit, Gian barely blinked at the attitude. Apparently, there was a first for everything. Maybe it was the circumstances they currently found themselves in as to why his father was letting things slip that he normally wouldn’t, but Marcus couldn’t be sure.

  “Sorry,” Marcus quickly said, “I’m just ... in a mood.”

  Gian shrugged, leaning against the doorjamb. “I have decided you are allowed to ... do whatever you would like to do, attitude included.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You said something to me that made me think. Was I letting you do your job the way you should do it, or was I putting too much of my expectations on you to behave as I would? Maybe you didn’t say it in those words, but that’s what I considered. I’m making an effort not to do that anymore, fils.”

  Huh.

  “I appreciate it,” Marcus replied.

  “I actually wonder whether or not the fact you haven’t already permanently taken care of the issues with the gang in Quebec had anything to do with me. And if so, does that make me to blame for what happened? I’m not sure, but it’s where my mind is at the moment.”

  “Do you want an honest answer?”

  Gian smiled. “I expect nothing less from you, Marcus.”

  “Yes,” Marcus said. “Yes, I kept you in the back of my mind. I didn’t want to do what you did—I remember how you told me taking over la famiglia in the midst of chaos made it harder to feel comfortable in your position. That your seat felt unsteady.”

  “You don’t have to prove yourself.”

  Didn’t he?

  His father was Gian Guzzi.

  Everything about his entire life felt like a moment to show up and stand out. The only Guzzi singleton without a twin. The one people said looked and acted most like their father.

  “You should stop thinking like me,” Gian told him, “and start just being you. They don’t want the same boss they’ve had for the last thirty years. Because in case you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re not me and everyone knows you can’t be. Your brothers are handling things downstairs for you, so don’t feel like you need to join them until you’re ready. They don’t expect you to because like you, they know their place, Marcus.”

  “Tell Chris I want to go ahead with Plan B with a few extras for the chapters that have arrived into town so that everyone knows where the Guzzi family stands. He’ll know what Plan B is.”

  “I think we all know what Plan B is, son.”

  Yeah, well ...

  His father turned to leave, saying over his shoulder, “And who knows, Marcus, maybe chaos will make your seat in this family a little more comfortable. Also, you won’t know what the woman in New York wants from or with you unless you call her. Might it hurt? Oui, but is she not worth that risk? That’s the important question. It determines everything.”

  Alone again with only his thoughts and misery to keep him company, Marcus went back to pacing the length of his office and ignoring the phone on the desk. No, that was a lie. He couldn’t ignore th
e phone when the entire time, he continued to stare right at it.

  Call her, call her ... call her.

  The mantra in his mind played on.

  Nothing felt right.

  Everything was so wrong.

  Because she wasn’t there.

  Marcus hadn’t planned for that.

  He didn’t know how to make it better when at the end of the day, he couldn’t make Cella come back. There wasn’t anything he could say that would be good enough, he knew. All her worst fears had just come true all over again.

  Only this time, she had a child to think about, too. A child who was old enough to understand what had happened. So despite how he felt, so fucking wrong and turned inside out because the woman who had his heart hadn’t given it back when she left, he decided that even if it killed him ... this had to be on Cella.

  If she needed time, so be it.

  She could have it.

  Silence?

  He’d not say a word.

  She had to come back.

  She had to want to.

  For now, Marcus would focus on making Plan B a reality because if he learned anything over the last day ... it was that he didn’t have time to waste. Tomorrow didn’t seem to be promised.

  • • •

  One of the many good things that came along with being a Guzzi was their reach. The power they could extend when needed was unmatched. Marcus had never been more grateful for that if only because once he committed to Plan B where the bikers were concerned, things moved fast enough to satisfy his need for vengeance.

  He wasn’t the vengeful type. A desire for revenge had never been something that filled his days constantly. And yet, the moment the gang made a move against Marcus, and people he cared about ended up caught in the crossfire ... well, all bets were off.

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Chris asked from the front seat as he navigated the vehicle into a parallel parking spot near a Quebec café just at the edge of a small town. “I know you’re going to tell me not to ask you that, but I feel like I have to, Marcus.”

  In the backseat, Marcus frowned at his reflection in the mirror. “I know, Chris.”

  It’s who his brother was.

  They couldn’t help who they were.

  “And yes,” Marcus added with a sigh, “this is what I want to do.”

  “The media—the police ... I mean, have you seriously considered what today will do to our business? How much attention this is going to bring? The fact you won’t be able to walk out of your house without a camera in your face, or a fucking cop on your heels?”

  Of course.

  He considered all of that, and much more.

  It changed nothing.

  “If it was Val,” Marcus said quietly, “or your daughters ... would you risk it happening again?”

  “I’m not saying—”

  “It’s a yes or no answer. Either you would or you wouldn’t.”

  “You already know the answer to that. I just wonder why you’re allowing your final straw to be a woman who left you while you were recovering in the hospital without so much as a goodbye and still hasn’t contacted you after a week.”

  “Because that doesn’t change the fact that I love her.” Marcus reached for the door handle of the car when his brother put it into the park but hesitated before opening it to add, “And the next time, it might be your wife. Our mother. My godson, or any other one of my nieces or nephews. The next time they try to come for us, it could be someone you love. So, if you think that I am choosing this route just for her, you’re mistaken. I am not, nor have I ever been, that selfish. All I ever did before today, and after, is look out for this family. I don’t know how to do anything different, Christopher. And don’t act as though you didn’t know that.”

  “Marcus—”

  “He makes a stop at the café every afternoon—I need to be in there, yes? I’m sure we can pick up this conversation where we left it when I get back. Make the calls and have everyone in position. Understood?”

  Chris nodded. “Yeah, I hear you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Marcus pushed open the back door and stepped out of the car. Before he closed it back up, however, he hesitated just long enough to bend down and say to his brother, “And I know you want to protect me—business aside, we’re speaking on family here. I get you don’t want shit to fuck with me, including a woman, Chris, but you don’t need to keep reminding me that she left. I know what she did. I am alone because of her choice, but it was hers to make. You have not lived her life or lost the things she has; so have your opinions, feel whatever way you need to about what she did, but it changes nothing for me.”

  “I’m trying,” his brother muttered.

  Marcus dragged in a breath that hurt.

  It all hurt lately.

  “Try harder.”

  His piece said, Marcus shut the car door and headed across the street to the small café where the first part of his plan would be put into motion. As the boss, he couldn’t be directly involved in the main portion of his plan—a bit too dangerous, all things considered. He could still make it known that every single thing that was about to happen to the chapter of the Riders in Quebec had been done by his hand to people who needed to know.

  Under only his direction.

  Once inside the café, Marcus ordered a black coffee just to give him something to do although he had no intention of drinking it. He found a seat near the front windows which would allow his men to see him, and with his back facing the glass, the man he was currently waiting on wouldn’t know Marcus was inside until it was too late.

  Which was entirely the point.

  Marcus palmed the mug, watching the steam rise and curl around the rounded edge. Across the quiet café high on the wall, a clock ticked down the minutes. Not that he particularly liked having time to himself to get lost in his thoughts lately, but he did exactly that as he waited.

  Thankfully, he didn’t have to sit in that pit of hell for very long. The ringing of the bell above the entrance door had Marcus turning his head to find Glen Cote standing on the café’s welcome mat. In his leather and patch, a beard that touched his chest, and jeans that looked as though they had seen better days, he was sure the man came off as formidable to anyone standing up against him.

  To Marcus, the man was a fucking nuisance.

  Had been since the beginning.

  Glen, comfortable in the café as he believed this part of Quebec to be his territory alone, especially since he’d taken over as the chapter’s president for the Riders, the man didn’t even bother to look around the business before he headed for the front to order. Marcus bided his time, knowing better than to cause a scene when as it was, this entire day would be exactly that in a major way.

  Once Glen had a coffee in a to-go cup ready in his hand, the man turned to leave. Finally, his gaze landed on Marcus sitting at the two-person table near the door. He took great enjoyment from watching the way the man’s face morphed from surprise to confusion in a blink. Sure, he attempted to appear unbothered, but it was still there.

  Marcus liked that a lot.

  “Don’t know what you’re doing in these parts, Guzzi,” Glen said as he neared Marcus’s table, “but that’s a mistake—I’ve got enough Riders in Quebec to make a call that will promise you won’t get out of town before they kill you.”

  “Right to the threats, huh?” Marcus smirked and waved at the chair across from his. “Take a seat.”

  “I have other things to do.”

  “Yes, like your twice weekly visit to the previous president’s old lady, right? That’s what you all call those women you keep close. Does she know you fuck her stepdaughter on the weekend, too?”

  Glen’s jaw clenched.

  Marcus shrugged. “Just curious.”

  “Leave.”

  “No can do,” Marcus replied, “because we still haven’t had the chance to chat after that little mistake of yours with the maple farm in eastern O
ntario. See, I know you all weren’t aware I was there that day, but I was. With people I cared about, too, and when you put them in danger for your cause ... well, I had to draw a line, Glen. I’m sure you understand, or shit, maybe you don’t. I really don’t give a fuck anymore.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Are you going to sit down?”

  “No.”

  Marcus nodded. “Didn’t figure you would. See, that’s where your problems first started with me. You couldn’t give me respect, Glen. You thought you were going to take respect from me like I just owed it to you. My only debt is to God and Cosa Nostra. Before you try to play with the big guns, you really should learn a bit about men like me.”

  Before the asshole across the table could say anything, Marcus stood up. He still hadn’t drunk a drop from the coffee, but he left it on the table, unconcerned. Pushing in the chair, he then fixed his blazer and gave Glen a nod.

  “Currently,” Marcus explained as he figured it was time to just get this over with, “your clubhouse is being attacked by a group of assassins my brother called in that he works with. I hear your people like to meet up every morning, and only a couple stay at the clubhouse, right? They were dead before the others arrived. And no worries, Corrado promised to make it fast for the rest of the bastards that came in this morning.”

  Clearing his throat, Marcus smiled thinly, continuing with, “As for the other chapters of the Riders who came into town over the last month ... each one is being approached today, and they’ll all be given a reason not to stay here to help you or your club. For that, you can thank the last thirty years of my father helping to supply the majority of cocaine to organized crime across Canada through his contacts. Because here’s the thing, Glen—the bottom line is all anybody cares about in this business, and nobody fucks with someone who can fuck with that. I’m sure you understand.”

  “You can’t possibly—”

  “Oh, it’s not time for you to talk,” Marcus interjected calmly, “as I gave you plenty of chances to do that with me, and each time, you shit all over it.”

  “You little cocksucker.”

  Marcus frowned. “The better man always knows when the lesser one no longer feels valid because insults are all he can afford. And as for you ... well, I had a couple of choices. I could have killed you myself. Possibly had someone do it for me while you rushed back to your clubhouse to find out if everything I said here today was true, but that didn’t feel good to me. It wasn’t enough. So instead, we made a few calls. See, we’ve been watching you for a while and given our reach, nothing is off limits to the Guzzis when we can make anything happen.”