Marco: Lucian & Lia: Book 8

by Sydney Landon

  “Did you know? Something brought you here. I knew it that day in the bunker.”

  He taps his fingers on the wheel for a moment in a way that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. “I told you we pulled two sets of prints that were at both the Foster’s and Gavino’s. There was no match in the databases for the second set, but there was an oddity. They were small, which indicated they belonged to either a woman or a child. I’m sure there are men out there with hands that size, but it bothered me. It triggered that feeling. The one that I get when—”

  “I remember well how those hunches consume you. So you thought if you got closer to the action, you might be able to unravel the mystery.”

  “Exactly,” he says. “But sadly, it escalated so quickly it was over almost before it started. For as many good outcomes as we have, far too many also go the other way. I’ve become jaded to them over the years. But this one, it’s going to haunt me for a long time.”

  Thinking we’re both in need of a subject change, I ask him, “Where is Moose now? And what of Jimmy? He was also part of the detail?”

  “We found Jimmy’s body about a mile from the house. Moose pretended to lose control of the car, claiming a flat tire. During the confusion, your mother shot Nina up with a strong enough sedative to knock her out, and Moose sent Jimmy to check the door. While he was doing that, Moose shot him in the back of the head.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Rutger terminated Moose after we interrogated him. He knew far too much; he could not be allowed to live, even in a maximum security prison.”

  “How’s he doing?” I ask softly, feeling like a shitty son and man for not reaching out to him before now. Coward. Didn’t want it to be real.

  “Marco, your father made a decision that day. I advised against it, but in the end, it was his call. And likely the only opportunity he would have for a while.” He has my full attention again now. My mind whirling with the implications. “The official statement is Moose shot your father, then Angelica killed Moose and finally herself.”

  Stunned.

  When I think nothing else can touch me, the world is shaken around me once more. “They . . . the family won’t believe that. There needs to be proof.”

  He appears almost insulted for a moment. “Marco, this is the FBI. The proof has already been taken care of. As far as the family is concerned, that’s exactly the way it happened. They are aware that Nina was involved but managed to get away. Your call to Jake tipped them off that something was wrong. Nic also knows that Minka escaped the compound, and she told him that she traced Nina’s phone before it had been turned off. We’ve tied up all the loose ends in the past two days. The only thing left is for you to assume your place as the head of the family.”

  “You must be fucking kidding me,” I say in astonishment. “Just like that? Back to taking out the trash for you.”

  He rolls his eyes. Not something I saw him often do through the years. “If you’d give me a moment before jumping to conclusions, I’ll explain.” I wave my hand grandly, waiting to hear what he could believe would make any difference to me. “It’s your choice if you want to continue with the Bureau. I promised you that in the beginning, and it still holds true. But, outside of that, you essentially run a business that employs many of your family. It also keeps a lot of assholes out of the city. If you walk now, someone else assumes control, and believe me, there isn’t an active Moretti left that can hold and wield that type of power. You’d ultimately destabilize the area in more ways than one. Even if you can protect yourself, you leave a lot of others in a very vulnerable position—including Nina. If you’re smart, you’ll take the reins, steer the company in the manner that Lee Jacks has his, and slowly take the holdings as close legal as possible. Your father has already solidly paved the way for just that.”

  “And exactly where is my father now that he’s deceased?” My feelings toward my parents are near mind-fuck levels right now. Of course, I know my father is innocent and was even more a victim than I am. Hell, he’s the real victim in all this. Yet people are rarely rational when faced with tragedy and betrayal, and I’m no different. A part of me resents him for joining the FBI and bringing this fallout to our door, and a part of me feels the devastation and anguish that must be tearing him to pieces. He loved her so much. His heart must be broken for more than one reason. In a perfect world, and a normal family, we’d be together, dealing with our grief and finding a way to heal. But we’re not your typical family, and we’ve always handled things differently. In this instance, my father does not want to see me, nor I him. For as much as we love each other, we must process our grief separately. At some point in the future, when the wound is not so raw and the horror so fresh, we’ll see each other again, but until then, we survive. We move forward and attempt to pick up the tattered pieces of our lives—if that’s even possible.

  “He’s off the grid for the foreseeable future. When you’re ready, I’ll point you in that direction. I’ll supply updates periodically for peace of mind if you’d like.”

  “Thanks.” I nod absently. “How can you be sure that no one in the family has gotten wind of your presence here? It would have been hard to hide your guys skulking around.”

  He smiles faintly. “We don’t skulk. And our local police contact handled all associations with the family. They’ve met him before, so there was no reason to suspect anyone else was involved. Since Nina was injured on the scene, your father called 9-1-1 for her, hence the notification of the police. This isn’t our first rodeo, son.”

  Cocky bastard. “What of Minka? I assume you recruited her?”

  “You know I cannot discuss another agent with you, especially one from another entity altogether. And her future is between her and the ATF. I’m quite certain that she’s put similar stipulations in place, so ultimately, it’ll be up to her.”

  We talk for a few more minutes before he darts a glance at his watch. “I’m sorry, son, but I’ve got to go. I have a plane to catch in less than an hour.” I have my hand on the door handle when he adds, “Think about what I’ve said. Your family will be looking at you for answers and reassurance. Give them the leader they need—at least for now. The rest can wait. Oh, and I’d touch base with Nic and Jake. They’re getting antsy. They know Nina was admitted to the hospital, but she’s under an alias, and unless you’ve missed it, she’s the only one on the fourth floor. No one other than staff and you two have been allowed up.”

  I look at my mentor one more time saying softly, “Thanks for everything. I’ll think about what you’ve said and let you know my decision. And tell my father I’ll be in touch when the time is right.” I want to console him. I want to grieve with him as his loss is great. Fuck, how were we both so blind? But not yet. And he’d hate to see pity or sympathy from me. Malone inclines his head, and I get out of the car and stand there until his taillights disappear in the distance.

  I’m a few feet away from the entrance to the hospital when a vehicle pulls in, blocking my path. I instantly go into full alert until I recognize the black Escalade and Nic behind the wheel. He rolls down the window, saying simply, “Get in.” I’m so fucking exhausted by this point, I don’t bother to argue. “Your place?” he asks, but I simply shake my head. I’m not sure I can ever go back there again. Too many memories.

  He doesn’t say anything further, and I lay my head wearily against the glass of the passenger window as we move through the city streets. We arrive at his place about fifteen minutes later, and he points to the direction of the guestroom. It’s then I realize how much I’ve missed him. And how badly I need some normalcy. I give him a brief hug, and he returns it silently, then I go straight to the bed in the other room and pass out.

  Light is spilling into the room when I wake up. I panic, afraid that something may have changed with Nina, but when I text Minka, she assures that she’s still stable. Thank fuck. I can’t lose her now. Not after all this. I have no idea how long I’ve been out, but I feel more human. Nic has left
a change of clothes out for me, and I take a quick shower and dress. Nic is sitting on the sofa flipping channels when I walk in, and he gives me a cursory once-over. “You look a little less like shit now,” he quips.

  I grin faintly, dropping down next to him. “Thanks for this,” I say, meaning more than just the sleep and clothes.

  For always having my back.

  For knowing when to stay away.

  For knowing when I need you.

  For so fucking much more than I can say…

  “Sorry about everything, brother. I just—fuck, I don’t know what else to say.”

  “That makes two of us,” I say wearily. “I’m not ready to deal yet. May never be.”

  “I feel you there. What now?”

  He asks the million-dollar question that I haven’t a clue how to answer. So I’m surprised when I say, “Take it as it comes. I’m gonna be honest and say I don’t know if I want to run the show, but for now, we have obligations and a family the depends on us. But—I can’t do this alone.” I turn to him, saying earnestly, “I need you at my side as my right-hand. Both you and Jake. I’m not a one-man show like my father. If I do this, it will be the three of us all the way. That’s the only way I’ll even consider it.” And I know it’s the absolute truth. We should have always been equals even though by blood we’re not.

  He runs an unsteady hand through his hair, looking almost emotional.

  I haven’t stopped to consider how hard the news has been on the rest of my family. Everyone loved and revered my parents, and it decimates me to know that they will grieve them, grieve my mom, not knowing the truth. Not knowing she would have destroyed anyone she saw in the way of her malevolent goals. Not knowing how she attempted to murder my future. And that because of her, my father has been forcefully ejected from his throne. His life. But for everyone else, they will grieve people they believed in, trusted in, and people they will miss.

  Pull it together, Moretti. Fuck. I look away, fighting for composure as well. He clears his throat, and I’m afraid he’s going to say something sappy that’ll have us both crying, but luckily, the real Nic comes out instead. “Oh, all right. Swear to fuck, dude, I’ll help you out if you’ll stop acting like such a little bitch.” And for the first time since this awful nightmare happened, I finally laugh. And it’s never felt so good.

  Epilogue

  Nina

  I sit in the corner of the sofa with my arms wrapped around my knees and stare into space. It’s pretty much how I’ve spent a good part of my time since being released from the hospital almost a month ago. I start each day determined to deal with what’s happened, yet it never seems to get any further. Part of it is sheer exhaustion. Then there are the nightmares, the lack of sleep. My body is still trying to heal from the trauma of the gunshot and the surgery that followed. The doctor said it would take time and not to rush my recovery. And physically, other than fatigue, I am almost back to normal. I’m still short of breath at times, but considering the couch potato I’ve turned into, that’s not surprising. Minka, as always, has been a lifeline. My friend, cheerleader, nurse, companion and the one who holds me at night when I wake up screaming. The one who pretends not to notice when I cry—over him.

  She asked me last night why I wouldn’t see him. Why I could forgive her for not being honest about her other life, yet not him. And I pointed out that she didn’t kill my family, but he did. She said nothing further, because really, what could make it better?

  If I were honest with myself, the inner struggle to accept what he did is what’s wrecking me inside. I’m in love with him. And I want nothing more than to beg him to hold me and never let go. I truly fear I won’t heal in my current state because my heart is shutting the rest of my body down. I’m grieving myself to death, and it has nothing to do with Franklin and everything to do with Marco.

  When I regained consciousness in the hospital, he was the first face I saw. And for a moment, it had been everything. But then the ugly reality comes crashing in, and I became hysterical. If I close my eyes, I can still see the devastation on his handsome face as he held out a hand to me, silently pleading not to push him away. He’d needed me. After all, he had lost everything. Yet I had not been able to deal with what he’d done. I would have trusted him with my life. I believed in him, yet it felt as if I never really knew him at all. What I told Minka was true; I could have forgiven him for not telling me about the FBI, but he killed Franklin and Frankie. The entire time, he comforted me for a crime he committed. What kind of monster must that make him?

  Even knowing that, why am I consumed with so much guilt where he’s concerned? Why can’t I get the look on his face that last time out of my mind? I broke him.

  I’m still on the sofa, wallowing in self-pity, when Minka comes in an hour later. She moves to stand in front of me and puts her hands on her hips before releasing a long-suffering sigh. “This can’t go on, Ni. You’re killing not only him but yourself as well.” I turn my head away as a tear escapes and rolls down my cheek. Oh great, the waterworks are coming early tonight. I’m surprised I have any tears left at this point. “I want you to remember that this is for your own good.”

  “I’m sorry.” I sniffle, then freeze when her words get through. “Wh-what? Minka?” I shift, trying to see where she’s gone, but there’s nothing until the door slams a moment later. Apparently, she can’t take it anymore. I guess this is one of those sink or swim moments. She’s not going to stay with me anymore, and who can blame her? Even I don’t want to be with me.

  The tears are coming in earnest now. I’m so caught up in my misery that I scream when I hear, “Belle baby, don’t.”

  My eyes jerk open, and there he is just inches away. The man who occupies all my waking and sleeping moments. My hell on earth. “Marco… how did you—”

  He smiles faintly, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. It’s a move I’ve noticed he does when he’s nervous or unsure, and like most everything these days, it makes me want to cry. I pull the back of my hands across my damp face and self-consciously run a hand over my hair. I have no idea when I even washed it last. “Apparently, Minka and Nic are tired of our ‘sad, fucking puppy-dog faces.’ Nic told me you wanted me to come over tonight, then when I got here, Minka opened the door and spilled the beans that you didn’t know. Then she pulled me in the door, shut it behind me, and left.”

  Unbelievably, I find myself smiling as well. “She’s a little sick of dealing with me, I’m afraid. Wants me to get my act together.”

  “How are you? Minka says you’re healing, but I’ve been so worried. Wondering if you were taking care of yourself. How you were handling—everything. Wishing you’d let me help you. Be here to hold you. I—”

  “Stop,” I whisper, my heart feeling as if it’s shattering. His words are so stark and pain-filled that it’s agony for me to even hear them. Don’t do this to me. Please, God, I can’t take it.

  He’s silent for a moment. I’m afraid he’s going to leave, yet terrified he’ll stay. Finally, he takes a seat on the coffee table in front of me. “Why can’t you forgive me? I… I love you, Belle, and I know you love me. I see it in your eyes when you look at me. And being apart is killing both of us. Haven’t we both suffered enough, baby?” God, whenever I think of Marco, I get stuck on how much he has lost in this. What he now knows about his mother… his dad… But I need answers.

  “Why did you kill them? Just tell me that much. I realize I’m not even supposed to know about your other life, much less the fact that you killed my family. But why was it necessary?” I hold my hand out, not even sure what I’m asking for, and he takes it instantly between his own. Feels so good. Hurts so fucking much. “I—can even almost understand Frankie Jr. I know he was bad. Probably worse than I can imagine. But Franklin?”

  He sighs, looking away for a moment, before turning back to me. “Franklin was much more involved in his son’s new business venture than anyone knew. Frankie was trafficking wome
n. Had been doing it on a small scale for some time and keeping it hidden from the old man. But then he managed to lure in some partners, and things were getting big. He was pulling in some serious money and using one of our warehouses for part of it. We found out and confronted Franklin. He laughed it off. ‘Boys will be boys.’ We warned him that we would not allow it to continue. More than once. But he not only ignored the warnings, but he also invested a chunk of Gavino money in the operation and basically told us to mind our own fucking business. Yet he made it our business by using our property and probably our name. We were too closely linked with the Gavinos to allow something of that magnitude to happen. Not to mention the fact it’s fucking sick. Those girls—fuck no.” He pauses for a moment; the revulsion he feels evident. I don’t think anything can surprise me at this point, yet his next words prove me wrong. “When Nic and I delivered his last warning, he let me know in no uncertain that he was fond of you and would hate it if you were to have an unfortunate accident.” I look at him in disbelief. There’s no way Franklin would have threatened me—would he?

  Marco seems to be struggling with something, then he removes one hand from around mine and pulls his phone from his pocket. He taps a few keys and lays it on the table. My eyes widen when I hear Franklin’s voice, along with Marco’s. He left out a few things, but it’s almost word for word what he just told me. Even though it’s clearly Franklin’s voice, the tone is completely different than I’ve ever heard before. There’s a coldness that sounds too natural to be forced. Menacing. My first inclination would be to think he was bluffing Marco, thinking he’d back off to protect me. He even mentioned me disappearing in one of his shipment of girls as if he’d given it considerable thought. Before Angelica’s betrayal, I would have likely needed more than this to convince me, but she changed something in me. In all of us, I think to myself, noting the dark circles under Marco’s eyes. The bleakness he can’t quite hide. Pain. So much pain. He needs me, and God, do I need him.