Never mind how she didn't deserve a brutal beating.
I guess that was yet another horror of being a rich, powerful man in a society that allowed them to get away with whatever they wanted. They could force their victims to lie under oath.
I personally wasn't even all that surprised by the sentence. Like I said, the whole thing just went horribly. If only Eli had snapped out of his funk and given a convincing testimony of how horrific the beating he had witnessed had been, maybe he could have gotten it down a few years.
As it was, he got ten years.
Eligible for probation in five.
Even if it was just five, I knew that was too many for the Mallick family. Five years when they never went five days without seeing one another.
And, judging by the fact that Eli refused to have visitors in jail, I was sure they were all thinking what I was as well; he wasn't going to accept visitors in prison either.
He was cutting ties.
He was pulling away.
It was killing everyone who loved him.
As for Eli, when I looked at him after the sentence, as he was pulled by the officer to stand, he showed nothing. No shock, no anger, no devastation. Not even as he heard the crying of his mother, Fee, Lea, and Dusty. Not even as his father, the hardass, lifelong loanshark he was, had to wipe a few tears away. Not as his brothers cursed and called at him, practically begging for him to look at them.
He was just... empty.
All I could think, being maybe the most objective third-party, was how much he was going to miss. He was going to miss his beloved nieces growing up. He was going to miss Lea's and Dusty's and maybe someday my children's births. He was going to miss birthdays and anniversaries and Thanksgivings and Christmases. There was going to be a sizable hole in every single life event from this point on. There was no way to deny that. That spot could never feel filled. Life would feel always just a little bit lacking with him gone.
Even if he did get probation in five. That was still five years. Five years meant Becca would be heading into middle school. It meant that any babies born would be in elementary school before they even met him.
Because make no mistake, he wouldn't meet them.
I didn't know Eli well, but I just had the gut feeling that he was never going to let his family bring kids into a prison to see him in chains behind glass. No way.
And that, well, that was a fucking tragedy.
Unable to hold it in any longer as I watched Eli disappear, I leaned to my right, resting on King's shoulder because it didn't feel right to cry on Mark right that moment, knowing he was the one who was actually losing something, not me, but needing a shoulder regardless.
It was just so fucking sad.
My heart ached for all of them.
"Take two," King said, giving me a squeeze. "Then knock this shit off and be there for your man."
I smiled because that was exactly what I needed to hear, and nodded.
Then I took two.
And I was there for Mark in the capacity he would allow.
I had spent enough time around men to know that they didn't want you all up their ass when they were dealing with something. Your best bet was just to be around, to be there when they finally did need a sounding board, or a hug, or whatever. I had started to worry that maybe the method wasn't the same for boyfriends after we left the station that first night, but eventually, it proved to still be the right method. After he had raged and stewed and worked things out in his head, he had come back to me, held me, fucked me silly on the kitchen floor.
This, I knew, was going to take a lot more time. But we had plenty of it. He was worth the ups and downs.
"Two minutes are up," King declared, making me laugh and swipe at my cheeks then move to put an arm around Mark, leaning into him as he talked to his father.
It was a good two days before we were able to talk about it, to let it all out. But that was what he needed, those two days, so that was what I gave him.
Mark - 1 year
I would never get used to the feeling.
It didn't matter how many times it happened over the past year.
Each and every time something great happened, like Shane and Lea bringing Jason into the world and then shortly thereafter announcing that they were going to pop out another, even when Dusty and Ryan tied the knot and started working toward their own family as well, even through all the birthdays and holidays, no matter how truly happy we got, there was a sadness beneath it all.
Because Eli never came back to us.
When they took him out of that courtroom, unbeknownst to us, they had completely taken him out of our lives.
There were no phone calls.
Letters were returned.
Visitation, no matter which one of us went up there (and every last one of us had tried), was denied by him.
We didn't know if he was alright.
We didn't know if he was trying to make the best of it, or if he was letting that life completely consume him.
Mom didn't know if he was eating, if he was sleeping, her main concerns being a mom.
Pops and the rest of us guys didn't know if he fell in with a gang, if he was getting beat on, if he was letting himself rage out and getting more time added to his sentence, or spending too much time in the hole.
We didn't know shit.
It was like a death in the family.
And it left a void.
So even though every time I looked down and saw that square-cut diamond ring on Scotti's hand, knowing how fucking insane it was that I had a woman who was there for me through my worst and still wanted to sign up for more, I couldn't feel one-hundred percent happy.
Scotti threw down the bridal magazine that Fee had dropped off, along with about fifty others, with a huff.
"What?" I asked, watching as she shook her head at the room at large.
"What the hell is an 'empire waist?'"
"Um..."
"Yeah, exactly," she said, big-eyeing me like I was in on something. Which, well, I fucking wasn't.
"Why do you need to know what an empire waist is?"
"Because, apparently, for my rectangular shape, which is really just a math typa way to say I have no boobs, hips, or ass," she said, rolling her eyes, "that is a good dress type for me."
I smiled then, unable to hold it in.
Scotti was a lot of things.
She was beautiful; she was brilliant; she was funny in a sarcastic way which just so happened to be my favorite; she was giving; she was loyal; she was amazing in bed; she was an alright cook, but an expert gardener. One thing she absolutely was not, was a girly-girl.
Fee once asked her opinion on her outfit and showed her one dress then came back out a minute later with an expectant look to which Scotti replied, "Well, are you going to change or what?"
Apparently, it had been a completely different dress, just in a different style, but the same color.
That was hilarious to the girls who never let her live it down.
So picking out a wedding dress, which was of utmost importance I had been informed, was proving a special kind of torture for her.
As a woman who was generally in jeans, tees, or the occasional nice black dress, I was pretty sure she never even realized that certain styles would fit her figure better than others. She just went with what she liked or what she felt hot in. It had never steered her wrong in the past.
That being said, beauty magazines (bridal ones included) made billions capitalizing on a woman's insecurities.
They were turning my usually very self-assured woman into a nervous wreck.
"First," I said, ducking my head to catch her gaze, "you have tits, hips, and an ass. And they're all fucking amazing; I don't care what that magazine says. Second, I don't know, nor do I care, and neither should you, what the fuck an empire waist is. All I care about, and all you should care about, is that you pick a dress that you feel good in. That's it. I don't care if it's a goddamn hot pink ballgo
wn that I will spend two hours trying to get under to find your sweet pussy." She laughed then, her face losing all its tension in a blink.
"Was there a third?" she prompted when I trailed off.
"Hold on," I said, looking up at the ceiling and closing my eyes. "I am imagining the pussy-search thing for a second." She swatted my shoulder, and I smiled as I looked down at her. "Third, this is our wedding. It's supposed to be a chill ass party to celebrate that we are only ever going to fuck each other for ever and ever amen."
"Yes, that is totally what it is celebrating," she drawled, grinning.
"My point is, baby, I don't want you fucking stressed out about this shit. It's supposed to make us happy, not frantic. Don't read that shit," I said, gesturing toward the pile on the table. "Just figure out what you want. You want a Justice of the Peace? Fine. You want a banquet hall and every criminal in this town attending, we might need some private security, but fine too. You want to fly to Vegas... well, we'd have to bring my family and yours because we would never hear the end of it if we didn't, but we can do that too. Whatever you want."
"It's your wedding too," she said, shrugging.
"Yeah, and all I want is my last name following your first, my ring on your finger, a smile on your face, and my aforementioned pussy-search. That's it. Everything else is background noise."
Her face went soft at that.
"Do you think maybe Charlie and Helen would let us have the wedding there?" she asked, sounding almost embarrassed to ask. Because it meant too much to her.
I knew she had a soft spot for my parents' house. Maybe it was because it was the first real home with a mom and dad that she had known in a decade. Maybe it was because it was the first place her family and my family had shared a Thanksgiving together, then Christmas, New Years. It was a place we made a ton of memories.
And she wanted this one there too.
"Baby, I wouldn't be able to finish getting the question out before they agreed," I said, watching as her smile went almost a little shy. "They fucking love you. They fucking love your brothers. They obviously love all us fucks. Mom would love knowing that you want your wedding there. I'll bring it up tomorrow, but I'm telling you it is a go. So you can check venues off your list."
I meant it metaphorically, but she actually pulled away, rummaged around under the magazines, making three of them fall to the floor where she left them, and dragged out a pad of legal paper that literally had three different columns and words all the way down on each column, and crossed off what I could only assume was 'venue.'
"King is going to walk me," she said, not able to meet my eye. "I mean, I know Charlie is like a..."
"Scotti," I cut her off, shaking my head, "Pops isn't going to be offended that you didn't ask him to walk you. Don't be ridiculous. King has been the only father you have ever known." In fact, when I decided I needed Scotti in a more official capacity and bought the ring, King had been my first stop on my way back from the jewelry store.
I had found him in his office, busting his ass to get it ready to open up. My brothers and I, along with his brothers, pitched in as much as we could to get the shithole he bought into workable condition. But he was still months away from being able to open up shop.
When I walked in, he had been sledgehammering a wall of broken, crumbling Sheetrock. Hearing me, he had looked over his shoulder at me. "Figure there's only one thing that puts that look on a man's face," he said, dropping the sledgehammer, and moving toward me. "You're gonna ask her."
"Not before I ask you."
His smile went a little amused at that. "I know Scotti wouldn't appreciate being discussed like chattel, but I appreciate you coming here."
"I know what she means to you. It's the right thing."
He nodded at that. "Can't think of anything that has made her smile the way you do, Mark. Figure if that is all you can offer her, and let's be real, we both know you have a lot more than that, but if that was all there was, I would be happy for her to have that for the rest of her life."
So I had my permission.
And it was only right Kingston was the one to give her to me.
Hell, from what I had pieced together about the time they spent in the cabin when Scotti was in a funk about leaving, King had been the one to try to reason with her.
That's a damn fine man, my father had said after he had spent half an evening talking to Kingston, getting the whole story about how he had taken on the parental role of all his younger siblings, sacrificing all the things he maybe had planned for his own life to do so. These days, you don't see that kind of selflessness.
And I couldn't have agreed more. And as we worked side-by-side on his place, it became more and more clear exactly how much he had sacrificed, how hard he was scrambling to make up for lost time. But that being said, there wasn't a single speck of resentment in him. He never talked about the career, wife, or kids he had needed to put off to take care of his siblings. In fact, even as he busted his ass to get his new business started, he also still made time to help Nixon and Atlas with theirs. As for Rush, well, he was dirty-talking women at Fee's place and happy as a fucking clam.
I knew his focus was work right now, getting a life together, but I hoped he wanted more eventually.
It would be a waste for a man that yummy to not have a woman. That was Fee.
And he's a genuinely good person too. Guys that hot are never decent. And that was Lea's input.
Give him time. That was Dusty, always the one to believe a little time, a little faith, and maybe some deep-breathing did wonders, no matter the situation.
"And I know you have Ryan, Shane, and Hunter standing up with you," she went on, anxiety a strange thing to find in her, and something that was proving how important this whole thing was to her. "Do you think that Fee, Lea, and Dusty would..."
"Woman," I cut her off, tone firm, "you're their family now. Of-fucking-course they are going to stand up with you. Just try to stop them. And the girls are gonna wanna all be flower girls. All that traditional shit is handled. You just pick your dress, what food you want, and the decor. The rest is gonna handle itself. And, if you don't want to even handle that shit, outsource to Fee. She loves it."
She watched me for a long minute, eyes completely unreadable, something that never happened anymore. Just when I was about to ask what was wrong, she shook her head slightly. "I'm really lucky," she declared, making my heart do a strange as fuck expanding thing in my chest. She thought she was the lucky one? "I mean you're awesome and everything. And I love you," she said, lips twitching. "But I mean... I got parents and sisters and, though I had plenty of my own, brothers. I got nieces and a nephew and stability and... and I don't know what the hell I ever did to deserve any of it."
Her eyes were swimming, and I had to fight to keep a smile from creeping up. I had learned over the past year that Scotti, while a bonafide badass in a lot of ways, also apparently had a tendency to tear up over just about any emotion. Pissed off? Tears. Grateful? Tears. Happy? Tears. I figured it maybe came from a decade of trying to be 'one of the guys' and therefore not allowing herself to let that shit out often. So now it was just coming out all the time. I found it endearing as fuck.
"Some day, baby, you're gonna realize you deserve every bit of good that comes your way," I told her pulling her against my chest so she could get it together. The tear thing didn't always end up leading to her soaking through my shirt, though it definitely happened. Sometimes she just needed to have a moment.
"Oh, so I was thinking," she said a moment later, sounding hesitant. "About the guest list."
"Okay..." I prompted when she didn't go on.
"Just, hear me out on this one, okay?" she asked, pulling away to look at me. The tears were gone and her lips were in a serious line.
"Okay."
"I want to invite Collings," she announced, making me jerk back.
"What?"
"Look, I know he's a cop. And if he had to, he would bring any one of us in
because he's one of the few good cops on the force. But he's also someone who buried some incriminating evidence he had on me; he gave me and my brothers a chance to start over; he let me come back to you without always being worried. And he even called you guys about Eli," she went on, eyes going sad even as his name sent a punch to my guts. It never stopped. It never would. I almost hoped it never did actually. Maybe he gave up on us, but we didn't give up on him. "He does so much good around here, and he gets shit on just because he's a cop. We owe him a lot. The least we can do is invite him to our wedding."
Really, she had a point.
There were many, many times over the years when he had just enough to drag me or my brothers in, but never did. And, hell, after all that shit went down with Lex Keith and The Henchmen, he had been the one to help out Jstorm, get Wolf out of it, and save at least a small amount of dignity of the NBPD.
"You want him there, baby, he's there."
And six months later, he was, looking uncomfortable in one of his usual work suits, pulling at his tie, looking around at the interesting group of criminals that made up our wedding. Namely, several of The Henchmen and Scotti's brothers, but he showed up, and he wished us well. He told Scotti she looked beautiful. He told me not to fuck it up.
Scotti did eventually pick an 'empire waist,' which apparently meant that it kinda came up under her tits. Whatever. She looked fucking breathtaking in it with her long, dark hair left down and a crown of white flowers she had grown herself that matched the bouquet she had also grown herself.
And, the crazy chick she was, she accepted my hand, making me the happiest goddamn man in the world.
Scotti - 2 years
"I hate him," I declared to Evie who was working the store with me. "That is the second time this month he has come in and ordered a vase for both his wife and his girlfriend. Same flowers, same vase, same note. Guess it makes it easier for him not to screw it up when they bring it up to him."
Mark (The Mallick Brothers #3) Page 20