His face was etched with regret and I wondered what his life had been like—living with the pain and guilt of his sister’s death while straddling the line between the criminal world and law enforcement. I was still trying to readjust my memories and make them fit into this new version of Russo that was before me. All the things my father had said…
My memories came to a screeching halt. “So…were the guys that my dad said were fake FBI agents…were they real? When I was fifteen? Did Sam really work for you? Did…” Words failed me and I had to close my eyes to try to get a grip on what that situation had meant now that I knew.
“No, Miss Marchant,” Agent Spencer spoke up. “The FBI does not ambush and interview minors.”
I opened my eyes to see Agent Spencer glaring at Marcus through the rearview mirror, like this was a sore point.
Marcus ignored it, keeping his eyes on me. “Those men worked for me.”
“As part of your criminal dealings? You just sent some thugs out to interview me?”
“Everyone who worked for me knew my relationship to your mother and to you and Renee. All of my people knew that my first priority was your safety. And despite what your father may have told you, the crimes that my people and I committed were never violent. I didn’t kill people for revenge. I didn’t execute my guys when they went against orders.”
“You just sent a guy to make a fifteen-year-old girl fall in love with him?” My smile was forced and bitter. “That didn’t do any damage at all, did it?”
“Leila—”
“Forget it. I don’t want to talk about Sam.” I finally leaned back against my seat and turned toward him. “So, what’s your idea? You said you have some brilliant plan. Let’s hear it.”
***
I spent the night in a hotel room, staring at the ceiling for most of it as I waited for morning to come. When the knock came at my door at five thirty a.m. I was already showered and ready to go.
Back at the office, I held my hair out of the way as Jack did the clasp on the necklace I was supposed to wear. It had a recording device inside of it. The plan was to provoke my father into coming out into the open. They didn’t really need more evidence. The eyewitness testimony and recording of Milo’s murder, along with the fact that my father was holding Renee hostage, was plenty to arrest him, but more was always better.
I tried not to shiver as Jack’s fingers brushed the back of my neck, not because he made me fluttery—though he did—but because from here on out, I’d be on my own. Jack couldn’t come with me for this next part. For our approach to work, only Marcus and I could be visible, and Jack couldn’t be anywhere near the operation.
He probably didn’t realize that the only reason I had the nerve to go through with this was because of him. Yes, I needed to help Renee, but fully trusting Russo after a lifetime of fearing him was beyond my capabilities, so I would rely on the fact that Jack trusted him and hope nothing went wrong.
And there were oh-so-many things that could go wrong. The special agent in charge had called the plan ill conceived. In my head I called it insanity, but outwardly I gave it my full support. Because I didn’t have a better plan. I had told them where to find the ledger, and an agent was sent with my key to retrieve it from its hiding place in New Mexico. The agent had returned a few minutes ago, so now we could move forward. I wasn’t sure what exactly I’d be moving forward into, but if it got Renee out, then so be it.
“Are you all right?”
Jack’s question pulled me from my spiraling thoughts and I looked up at him as he stepped back. “No,” I responded, my voice flatter than I had meant. “I’m terrified.”
He wrapped me in a hug, and I had to fight not to let the flood of comfort break my composure. “You know I wouldn’t have suggested this if I had any doubt about Marcus’s motives, right?” he asked.
I slowly nodded, even though my face was pressed into his shoulder. “That’s the only reason I’m doing this.”
“Finally decided to trust me, huh?” He let out a dry chuckle.
A weak smile curved my lips. “Yeah, I guess so.”
He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine, his hands on either side of my neck. “I hate that I won’t be with you.”
“I’m sure I’ll have your voice in my head anyway.” At least I hoped so. I would need it. “You’ll be whispering in my ear, like a shoulder angel or a Jiminy Cricket. I’m going to imagine your voice telling me to stay calm.” Which would be a full-time job since I’d pretty much be hanging off an emotional cliff the whole time.
He pulled back and actually smiled, though it was weighted with worry. Then his gaze intensified. “I also hate—” he fidgeted before continuing “—that I can’t say any of the things that—” He stopped talking, pressing his lips as if holding the words in. Then he gave a shrug. “I can’t say any of it.”
One of the knots constricting my chest loosened, easing a portion of my stress that was tied up in my wanting Jack, because I understood exactly what he meant, and it gave me hope. I just nodded, and managed a strangled smile. “Me too,” I whispered.
***
Marcus and I were waiting on a stretch of empty dirt road in the middle of nowhere, Texas. We stood just outside the car, which was parked in the middle of the road. An hour ago, Marcus had taken a photo of us together, him looking haughty, me looking unsure. Then he had sent it to my father along with this location, this time, and a demand to bring Renee with him.
We saw the cloud of dust coming long before the sleek black sports car came into view. It approached at breakneck speed and then ground to a halt about twenty-five feet in front of us, the driver’s side swinging around to face us. The driver’s door was thrown open the moment it stopped, and my father jumped out. My knees threatened to buckle at the sight of him. Panic squeezed my neck, choking me.
My father’s face was red with rage. “Get the hell away from my daughter, Russo!” He stayed close to his car, the door hanging open.
“Me?” Marcus called back, his voice calm in comparison without actually being calm. “You come blazing in here acting as though I’m the one who’s going to hurt them? Where’s Renee?”
“How should I know? She left years ago.”
“Don’t play the idiot! I have ears everywhere, just like you do,” Marcus sneered, and I knew that his contempt was no act. “You’ve been holding your own daughter hostage in her own home just so that you can get a hold of this.” He raised his right hand, holding up the ledger that I had jealously guarded up until now. Despite knowing that he was my uncle, seeing it in his hands made my neck grow cold. It felt wrong. “So,” Marcus continued. “Did you bring her along like I told you to?” His eyes cut over to the car, which had windows so dark that there was no telling whether or not Renee resided within. “Or should Leila and I leave right now and take your ledger with us?”
My father’s thumb rubbed along the inner edge of his middle finger—a nervous tell I’d only seen a handful of times. My chest and shoulders tensed, realizing that despite how much I didn’t want to care, I still dreaded the moment when he would choose either his business or me.
“What do you want with Renee?” he asked, stalling.
“What I’ve always wanted!” Marcus yelled. “I want her safe from you. I want to honor Adele’s last wish.”
“DON’T SPEAK HER NAME!” My father’s words were so loud that they felt like they echoed, even in this wide-open space. His face was contorted and twisted in fury, his body shaking.
“Why not?” Marcus asked with a quietness that sent a shiver down my spine. “Does it hurt you?” The blunt edge of his voice held back so much that I was worried he might explode with the next word. “Does it hurt you to hear the name of the woman you claimed to loved? The woman who died because of who you are?”
My father threw a violent finger at Marcus. “Her death is on your hands. It was you!”
Marcus remained silent, probably because we could both see that my father w
as cracking. His claim was empty because he didn’t believe his own words.
My father’s eyes finally cut over to me, desperation clinging to his cheeks and dripping from his eyelashes.
“Leila, come with me. He won’t stop you. Just come with me.” He beckoned desperately, waving me toward him.
I rocked back, astonished to hear those words coming from my father’s lips. Would he really choose me over his ledger? And more importantly, did it matter? “You think I would go with you?” Incredulity made my jaw slack, my brow screwed up in confusion. “After everything. After all you’ve done…you think I would choose to go with you?”
“Do you even know who this man is?” He asked, gesturing wildly at Marcus. “What he is capable of?”
“I know who he is. He is the only family that my mother had left. And maybe I don’t know what he’s capable of. But I do know what you’re capable of.”
“I am your father.”
“An unfortunate biological fact.”
“Why did you come if not to come home?” He looked at me, at the way I stood beside Marcus of my own free will, blinking as though waiting for his vision to clear, waiting to see a different picture.
“I came for Renee. You wanted the ledger, didn’t you? Well, here it is. Give us Renee and you can take the ledger. Is she here? Did you bring her?” I took a step forward, but Marcus placed a hand on my arm, keeping me in check.
“Show us you have Renee,” Marcus demanded. “Or this meeting is over.”
My father’s right hand clenched and flexed at his side. He was thinking, looking for a way to stall. “What if you keep the ledger?” he blurted, his eyes on Russo. “Leila would come with me and you could keep the ledger.”
“An encrypted ledger won’t do me any good,” Marcus argued.
“I’ll give you the encryption key,” my father offered, a wild sort of desperation in his eyes. “I give you the key, and you’ll have a list of all my best clients.”
I felt Marcus still beside me, and a flash of fear shot through me. I knew it was a tempting offer. I wished Jack could really be talking me through this, telling me it would be fine, that Marcus wouldn’t take the offer.
“It’s a good deal,” my father said, pressing his advantage.
I couldn’t keep quiet. “I’m not a bargaining chip!”
“Quiet, Leila! I know what I am doing. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” My father’s words were nonsensical, like he believed we were on the same side.
“I’m not going with you!” I shouted. “How could you think that I would ever go with you after all these years, all the running? I was running from you, Dad! I’m only here for Renee. You can have the ledger, just let Renee go!”
My father took one step back, and I could see the wheels of his brain turning. He looked from Marcus to me then back and forth. “And give up both of my daughters—?” He pulled a gun from his waistband and leveled it at Marcus. “I won’t give you up, either of you!” The gun shook in his hands. I’d never seen him so undone.
I grabbed the ledger from Marcus and stepped forward, heedless of the gun brandished in my direction.
I held the ledger out to my father, a desperate offering. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Just take it. Your secrets will be safe. You won’t have to come after me anymore.”
“Get in the car, Leila!” he screamed at me, his gaze and his gun barrel fixed on Marcus.
I glanced back, noting the tension building in Marcus’s jaw. His hands were held out at his sides and he didn’t move, not provoking my father, but not backing down either.
I turned back to my father. “I’m not going with you,” I reiterated.
He bared his teeth and leaned forward. “Get in or I shoot your mother’s last family member.”
It wasn’t a conscious decision. I just moved, took one big step to my right so that my body was between Marcus and the gun.
Marcus’s stunned cry of “What are you doing?” rang in my head, but I ignored it.
Though everything inside of me was terrified and trembling, I held my father’s gaze and did my best not to flinch. I would not be moved.
My father’s eyes were filled with hate and desperation and confusion and anger and maybe even a little bit of longing, but I stopped trying to discern them. I would never understand him, so there was no use in trying. “I’m not going to let you hurt any more of my family,” I said.
He gave a terrifying little half smile. “You’re at a disadvantage, or haven’t you noticed yet?”
I was about to bite back, say something about having what he wanted, but then he called over his shoulder.
“Silas!”
My blood ran cold. I couldn’t breathe and my legs felt weak as the car door behind my father swung open and Silas stepped out, gun in hand.
Damn it.
“Silas, will you please retrieve my daughter and make sure she gets safely into the car?”
“No!” My shaking legs stumbled backwards as I tried to retreat while staying in front of Marcus. For the first time, I wished that the FBI had let Marcus have a gun, but they hadn’t.
Silas moved quickly, bearing down on us, and was reaching out to take hold of me when the sound of a gunshot ripped through the open air. I cowered, dropping the ledger and throwing my arms over my head.
Silas toppled to the ground, writhing as blood seeped from his right lower back. Marcus wrapped his arms around me, pulling us both down behind our car as we looked around, trying frantically to locate where the shot had come from. I couldn’t see anyone else, but my father now had his back to us, shielding himself with the car door as he popped off several shots into the scrubby terrain that stretched out beside the road.
“Get in the car!” Marcus screamed as he tried to maneuver me toward the open car door. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t go, not yet, not when there was a chance that Renee was in the car just thirty feet away from me.
I broke free and ran toward my father’s car, flinching every time he pulled the trigger, hoping that he wouldn’t look behind him and see me, hoping that whoever was shooting at him wouldn’t accidentally hit me.
The nose of the car was facing left, and so was my father as he crouched behind his door and aimed at those shooting at him. I ran to the right, circling behind the car so that I could reach the back door on the opposite side from my father. I yanked it open just as my father’s window shattered, spraying the ground with pebbles of tempered glass. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim interior, and then I recognized the still form of my sister. She looked as if she’d fallen over, her legs dangling to the floor and her head lying in the middle of the seat. She was unconscious, maybe drugged.
My father gave up on shooting back and climbed into the car. I had no time.
Grabbing hold of both of my sister’s arms, I pulled with everything I had as my father shoved the car into drive. Renee’s body was halfway out when he stepped on the accelerator.
I fell backwards, still clinging to her wrists, and Renee’s legs flopped to the ground as the car shot away from us.
My head cracked against the road, but I did my best to wrap my body around Renee’s, to protect her from the spraying gravel and the flying bullets. My eyes pinched shut as the gunshots seemed to overlap one another like a good fireworks show. Then the deafening sound of a car crashing—metal twisting, glass popping. Then an eerie, ringing silence.
I was vaguely aware of someone shouting my name, someone pulling on my arms, tapping my cheek, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to open my eyes. My head was heavy and everything felt far away. Someone pressed on my thigh, then my knee, then a searing pain shot through my calf and I gasped.
Then everything was quiet.
21
I WOKE UP once during the ambulance ride, but the mask over my face, the straps securing my body to the gurney, and the people hovering over me sent me into an immediate panic. I was probably awake for less than a minute before I went under again, wheth
er from sedation or my own hysteria, I couldn’t say.
When I woke again, it was to rhythmic beeping. There was no one rushing around me, no urgent questions or straps holding me down. The fog I’d been in gradually dissipated and I blinked slowly, trying to make the room come into focus. It was a hospital room. My mind tried to piece together why I was lying in the hospital. I hadn’t been sick. I couldn’t remember being in an accident. Or had I? The sound of a car crash reverberated through my head, but I couldn’t remember being in an accident. There had been other loud sounds. Guns firing. Glass shattering. My father, my sister, my uncle.
Renee. I had gotten Renee out, hadn’t I? Was she okay? Where was she now? Was I hurt? I couldn’t remember being hurt. There had just been the gunfire and the car crashing, but I hadn’t been in it. I had pulled Renee from the car.
My eyes flitted from side to side, trying to find the answers as my heart sped up and my breathing became more difficult. I tried to turn my head, to look to the other side of the room, but my head felt too heavy.
A nurse came in. “Hey there,” she said in a soft voice, her lips smiling with reassurance. “You’re awake. That’s good.” She put a hand on my arm and then glanced over at the monitors that were beeping faster than they should have been. “You’re doing just fine. Nothing to worry about.” She pulled out a penlight and shined it in both of my eyes. “You hit your head and have a concussion, but it’s being monitored.” She patted my arm and nodded her head. “And a bullet did pass through the muscle of your calf, but it didn’t hit any bone or do any serious damage. Okay?”
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