Mark (The Mallick Brothers #3)

by Jessica Gadziala

  "Scott," Kingston's voice called, sounding low, understanding, comforting. "Don't go doing..."

  "That's three," Nixon cut him off, making my stomach drop seemingly to my feet.

  One was chance.

  Two was coincidence.

  Three? Three seemed like design.

  We knew the drill.

  We had discussed it at length.

  We knew what we had to do.

  As we looked at one another, the reality of having to do it was gutting all of us simultaneously.

  But there was no time for words said, no time for comforts, for possible goodbyes.

  We watched until the car rounded the corner again, then we shared one last look, and we fucking booked it.

  In different directions.

  Because if the worst-case scenario was what might be happening, we knew that the best bet was to separate, not to allow us all to be rounded up at once.

  Therein lay the gutting sensation.

  Because even if you weren't caught, what if one of the others was? They wouldn't turn on the rest of us, of course, but they would possibly be offering over a decade or more of their life. There was no relief in freedom if someone you had spent every single day of your life with for the past decade was losing theirs.

  But I did turn and run.

  Because that was just what the plan was.

  I tore down an alley then down the backs of the buildings, heading toward the closest way out of town- the train.

  My heart was a slamming thing in my chest. As much as I maybe wanted to blame the run, I knew the reality had nothing to do with that. The reality was, it was hurting to run. Even as I purchased a ticket and waited for the next train out of the town, heading for NYC, I couldn't help but realize the main source of the rapid heartbeat wasn't necessarily the worry for my brothers - though that was absolutely a part of it - but it was the realization of what I was leaving behind.

  Namely, Mark.

  But also the chance for all the things I had let myself hope and believe that I could have.

  I dropped down into my seat and turned to look out the window, for some reason wanting to torture myself, and watching as the train started moving and the world I had started to build was left behind.

  Maybe we were wrong.

  Maybe they weren't looking for us.

  Wherever we each ended up, we would all do some research, try to find some information on what was going on in Navesink Bank on this particular day, if maybe there was an Amber Alert or some sort of local robbery or someone broke out of a jail or was in the middle of a killing spree in one of the surrounding states; all those things would cause a higher police presence on the streets.

  But we needed to be sure.

  "Scott," a voice said at my side, making my head jerk over to find Kingston looming over me from the aisle, looking down with dark, sad eyes.

  And then the unthinkable happened.

  I burst out in tears.

  I was pretty sure, outside of during my mother's illness and then death, that I had never openly cried in front of any of my brothers.

  Which was why it wasn't so unusual that King looked positively stricken when it happened. His body jerked backward; his eyes went almost comically huge; there was a good, long pause before he dropped into the seat beside me. Then it was another moment before I felt his wide palm pulling my hands away from my face. But it was just a second between then and when I felt myself hauled into his chest with his strong arms around me.

  He didn't say anything.

  There was nothing to say.

  He just held me and let me soak through his shirt.

  It was when we finally slowed down to wait to pull into Penn Station that cell reception picked back up and we both started ringing off the hook, making me pull away with a truly ugly sniffling sound as I raked my hands down my face to get rid of the leftover tears.

  "Yeah," King answered, sounding distracted, and I could feel his gaze on me. "No. Yeah, she's with me. Where are you at?"

  Sitting so close, I could hear Rush's voice telling King that he had gotten on the train behind ours which was leading out toward the shore instead of the city. Nixon and Atlas apparently got to the car and were heading back up toward the cabin.

  No one seemed to be followed.

  "False alarm?" I asked when King hung up and looked at the mess I was sure I looked like right in that moment.

  "I dunno. That just seemed too unusual," he said objectively. "We had been in Navesink Bank for weeks and never saw anything like that. They were definitely looking for someone. And seeing as most of the bad guys in town have the cops paid-off, I think it was smart to get out of there until we know for sure. Probably being paranoid, but let's just make sure."

  I nodded, unable to find any flaw in that logic. Some things weren't worth the risk.

  Like jail time.

  "Yeah. Are we going to meet at the cabin?"

  "Figured we could just chill in the city since that's where we are headed anyway. Atlas and Nixon can go up to the cabin and pack up. We needed to clean and clear out of there soon anyway. Rush can hang near Navesink Bank and do some sniffing around."

  "Sounds like a plan," I agreed, forcing a smile I didn't feel at all.

  "Call him," King said, voice firm, but sweet at the same time.

  "What?"

  "Call Mark. Explain. Don't do this."

  This.

  This was what had to be done. This was the reality of the life I had chosen to live. This was not something he should have to deal with- the uncertainty, the possibility of me ending up in jail, or needing to run.

  It wasn't fair to do that to him.

  So this was me doing the only right thing.

  I was ending it before things got too out of hand, before feelings got too intense, before I had to break not only my heart (which was just a pile of ash in my chest right then) but his as well.

  I was saving him from my uncertain future before it became his as well.

  FOURTEEN

  Mark

  "You've got the be fucking kidding me," I growled, kicking my leg out, and sending a vase crashing against the wall, shooting glass and water everywhere.

  Granted, I knew she was a flight risk.

  She ran away once before.

  But this was different.

  This was after we had spent some time together. She had met my family. We had discussed her possible future.

  Then the next thing I know, she's fucking run off again?

  Why?

  The why, though, seemed to be something I wouldn't have answers for since her phone just kept going to the goddamn robotic voicemail.

  There hadn't been one single indication that she was thinking of running off. In fact, she didn't even take her shit with her. For chrissakes, Nugget was still in his coop out back. I mean, not that her lifestyle seemed conducive to dragging a chicken around with her, but it was just another thing that didn't make sense.

  All I knew was she was meeting with her brothers.

  And then she never came home.

  At first, I just shrugged it off, did some cooking and some cleaning, flicked through the channels. I figured they just got caught up looking at places or just catching up. Didn't matter how short I intended a visit to be with one of my brothers, it always ended up being an hour.

  But then she never came home.

  And it was the next evening, and I was fucking freaking the fuck out.

  Because it just didn't add up.

  And I was starting to think I should have been out on the town looking for her, seeing if anyone had seen her or her brothers, trying to find out if she just simply spooked and ran again or something else entirely happened.

  That was the thought that finally stopped my useless pacing and threw me out my front door and walking to town. I had contacts everywhere. And thanks to the fact that she had let me snap a couple of pics of her the night after I ate food off of her entire body before eating her pussy until
she made the dog next door howl from her screaming, I had something to show to all the people I knew in town to get some info.

  I had barely just walked out of The Henchmen compound when something stopped me dead in my tracks. At first, I thought it had been a trick of the light, or my own wishful thinking.

  But when I stopped and turned fully, there was no mistaking it.

  One of Scotti's brothers was still in Navesink Bank.

  And there wasn't anything tense about him to suggest he was frantically trolling the streets looking for signs of his missing sister.

  No, in fact, he was chatting up some girl outside of my fucking father's bar. Calm as could be.

  I saw fucking red.

  Which was what had me charging across the street without even looking, grabbing him by the throat to the sound of the woman shrieking, and shoving him down the back alley where I held him against the wall.

  "Where the fuck is she?" I demanded, pulling him forward slightly, then slamming him back against the unyielding brick again.

  "Fuck, man," Rush hissed, shaking his head as much as my hand around his throat would allow.

  "You know what I do for a living. You know I will fuck your shit up if you don't open that goddamn mouth and give me some answers. I've been fucking worried sick all goddamn day. Where is she?"

  "New York," he offered a bit too easily. And I knew it had nothing to do with the threat of bodily harm because a) he was a guy who could handle himself and b) he was too loyal to give in so easily. Likely, he had picked up on the desperation seeping out of me, the bone-deep need to know. "She's in New York with King."

  "Why the fuck would she be in New York with King and not answering her phone when she should be home with me and her chicken?"

  Okay.

  That sounded ridiculous.

  Which explained the deep chuckle and the amused smirk that Rush offered me even though I was cutting off half of his air.

  Realizing that was no longer necessary, I lessened my grip then released him, falling back on the wall behind me, exhaling hard.

  "Talk to me."

  "We were walking down the street, and Nixon noticed the same cop car go by us slow twice. We tried to shrug that off. But then they came back a third time. We didn't know what the fuck was going down, so everyone panicked and took off."

  Well.

  That did sort of explain it.

  It wasn't exactly wrong for them to be a bit paranoid when the NBPD was acting like they actually gave a shit about their job. They didn't. It was weird to see them patrolling at all.

  That being said, why not call me? Why not share the plan? Why just up and disappear and shut off her phone?

  "She thinks she is going to drag you down into her mess with her," Rush announced, somehow reading my wayward thoughts.

  "What?" I snapped, head shooting up.

  Rush shrugged a shoulder. "Look, I think it's a little whacked. I mean, for fuck's sake, you're a goddamn loanshark. And that isn't exactly a secret around these parts. It's not like you're looking down on her or worrying that she will bring the law down on you. But that is where her head is at. She thinks she is protecting you by staying away."

  "And you don't?" I genuinely wanted his opinion. Her brothers were the biggest part of her life. They knew her like the backs of their own hands. Their opinions were likely not only accurate, but necessary.

  "Look, I honestly don't know if this is smart. This staying in the US, let alone staying in a town we ripped off thing. I don't know. I just know we all wanted it. What I do know, though, is I have never seen my sister look how she looked the day before yesterday. If you are what put that look there, then I think she's a fucking idiot for letting the source of it slip away for 'your own good,' or whatever she is thinking. At least she should have talked to you about it."

  "So why am I still standing here and not holding an address in my hand and on my way to New York to have that talk with her?"

  He chuckled at that, shaking his head. "I'm so in the fucking doghouse for this. But the Midtown Hilton. Room 142. Pretty sure King will let you in. He said she sobbed half the ride to the city. Which, know you haven't known her long, but it's totally not like her. He's worried."

  I swallowed back all the other questions I had about her, wanting to know as much of her well-being as I could. But there would be time for that when I went to the city. Instead, I needed to know what they found out.

  "So if you're worried about the NBPD, why the fuck are you just out here walking the street?"

  "Because there has been no indication that it was us they were looking for. My best bet was there was some old person alert two towns over. Some dude with dementia broke out of his old folks home and went missing. It could have been that simple."

  "So why are they still in the city?"

  Rush looked down at his feet and sighed. "Look, she wanted a clean break. King is just stalling shit to see if he can talk her into coming back and talking to you, explaining. So far, she's fucking stubborn as shit."

  "Well, he won't have to worry about trying to convince her to come back. That's my fucking job. Thanks, Rush."

  "Hey," he called as I moved to walk away.

  "Yeah?"

  "Use your A-game, would you? I kind of like it here. I sure as shit like it better here than Russia."

  "I'll do my best," I said with a grin as I headed back toward my house, threw some extra food to Nugget, and made my way to the city.

  By the time I got there, it was almost one in the morning, there was an insistent aching in my temples, and I was trying hard as hell to convince myself to swallow the pit of uncertainty that had wedged itself into the back of my throat.

  It wasn't that I was doubting what I was doing. I needed to see her. I needed to talk to her. I needed to tell her that the taking off shit was ridiculous.

  I just had no fucking idea what to say.

  Over an hour in the car didn't really help either.

  But I kept forcing myself forward, through the lobby, back toward the elevators, then down the hall to number 142 where I knocked hard three times.

  There was a shuffle and footsteps, too loud to be Scotti, before the chain slid and the door pushed open.

  And there was Kingston, looking more disheveled than usual, and tired, worried, tense. Even more so than he had when they were fresh off a job. Which was weird as fuck. But Rush did say he was worried about his sister.

  "About fucking time," he half-growled at me, reaching inside to grab his wallet, tucking it into his back pocket. "I'll get another room," he explained, moving into the hall, but not letting the door close. "Fix her," he demanded, giving me a hard look. "I can't watch her like this anymore."

  With that, he moved off as I caught the door, took a breath, and pushed it in.

  I don't know what I had been expecting.

  Maybe, from the description of her crying on her way to the city, I imagined her curled up in bed.

  And she was in bed, sure. But she wasn't curled up. She wasn't crying.

  No Scotti was... plotting?

  That was the first word that came to mind to find her sitting cross-legged on the beige comforter of one of the full-sized beds with a huge assortment of paperwork and books piled haphazardly around her. There was one earbud in her ear, a pen behind the other one, and her finger was rapidly flipping through the pages of a book right in front of her. Her long dark hair was pulled up into a top messy knot, a few pieces drifting out indicating she had maybe had it that way through a sleep cycle.

  Still, even a bit manic, sleep-deprived, and wearing simple baggy jeans and one of King's tees, she was the most fucking beautiful sight I had ever seen.

  "Ty poluchil yeshche kofe?"

  Ah.

  Okay then.

  She was planning their eventual move to Russia.

  "You know it's cold in Russia this time of year," I said, feeling a smile tug at my lips when her head shot up, eyes going huge, lips parting slightly. It took all
my self-control to not go over there and claim those as mine again. In case she forgot. "Actually, it's cold in Russia pretty much all fucking year."

  Her mouth opened and closed twice before she shook her head to clear it. When she spoke, it was clear she was going for unaffected and disinterested. She failed at both. "What are you doing here?"

  "So, funny thing," I started, leaning back against the dresser when everything in me was begging me to go over to that bed and pull her into my arms. She didn't need that right now. She needed me to be rational to the point where she was seeming like the irrational one. It was the only way I was going to get past her shield. "I was about five fucking minutes away from putting up missing persons posters all around goddamn Navesink Bank when I caught sight of a familiar face outside Chaz's."

  "Damnit," she hissed. "He's supposed to be laying low."

  "Yeah, baby, that was never going to happen," I said with a chuckle. "And, as I'm sure he has called you and King to tell you, he hasn't found a single reason for you to be hiding out in the first place. They aren't looking for you, Scotti."

  "But they could have been, Mark." She reached up and pulled out the earbud, tossing it onto her pile of paperwork. "That's the real problem. We will never feel free here. There will always be that worry about someone finding a lead, someone connecting the dots, someone hunting us down."

  "I think you are giving the police a little too much credit here. This is over. The insurance paid out. The cops aren't wasting their precious time tracking down robbers who have never hurt anyone and only stole a couple grand each time. They have rapists and kingpins and murderers to track down. They aren't wasting their manpower on your family, Scotti. That's just not going to happen. The fact that you can't move on from it has nothing to do with facing up the consequences of your actions."

  "I don't want to end up behind..."

  "And you won't," I cut her off. "You're not going to jail. Neither are your brothers. Not for this. So as long as you keep your noses clean from now on, you won't have a problem. This is just you, your mindset, the way you obviously view yourself and your brothers."