by Cassia Leo
I nod as I take the glass of water from the flight attendant. No alcohol today. I have to keep a clear head until Rebecca is back in my bed where she belongs.
“John, I want to ask you something.”
He continues to stare out the oval window. “Shoot.”
I lean forward in my seat and take a deep breath. “You know I care about Rebecca a lot.”
He turns away from the window to face me. “Yeah?”
I set my glass of water down on the tray and turn my body so my shoulders are facing him. “I’m in love with her, John. I’m going to get her back, not just for you, but because… I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”
He narrows his eyes at me as if he’s confused. “You want to spend the rest of your life with my daughter? The rest of what life? Your life as Knox Savage or your life as Marco Leone?”
“I don’t care, as long as it’s with her. I’ll let her choose.”
“You can’t let Rebecca choose. She doesn’t know what’s best for her.”
“She’s a lot smarter than you think.”
I clench my jaw to stop myself from saying something stupid. Like maybe he doesn’t know his daughter as well as he thinks he does, since she grew into a woman without any help from him.
“I know Rebecca’s smart, but she’s never been good at forgiveness.”
“She got that from you.”
He laughs then takes a sip of lemonade. “I don’t know if I can give you my blessing. Your life is not the kind I want for Rebecca. I want what any father wants for his daughter. I want her to get married, give me a few grandkids, and live happily ever after. But most of all, I want her to be safe.”
“I can keep her safe. You know that.”
He looks me in the eye, sizing me up. “Prove it. Get her back. Keep her safe for at least a couple of years. Then I’ll give you my blessing.”
I smile as my insides fill with warmth. “I will.”
Chapter 12
The jet touches down at Burlington International Airport at six p.m. Bruno, Billy, and two of my tactical specialists are already waiting in the chopper on the tarmac. Just as the sun goes down at eight p.m., the helicopter drops all six of us in a small airfield just outside Brownsville, Vermont where three cars await us. Bruno and Billy will take the lead. John and I will be in the next car with me driving. Jacob and Albert will be in the car behind us, watching for tails.
“You all know the objective. No one strays from the objective,” I say once everyone has their weapons packed and their cars ready. “Anyone is fair game, but Tony is mine. If I should go down, Tony is not to be harmed until Rebecca and Lita are found. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” all four of my guys reply in unison.
“Good. Let’s head out.”
I hop into the black 370Z and shift into gear to follow Bruno’s car out of the airfield. The car rides like a beauty on the highway. I may have to get one of these for myself. I don’t drive myself around a whole lot because I like to keep my hands free for more important things. But I’ve always had a thing for cars. My house in Santa Barbara has a ten-car garage and every slot is filled.
I’ll admit that leaving all this behind will be hard. But if Rebecca wants me to go back to being Marco, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll do whatever it takes.
“Marco, I got a favor to ask of you.”
I glance at John and he’s staring straight ahead. “Anything you need.”
“If I don’t make it out of there today, I need you to promise me you’ll take care of Rebecca and Marie.”
“Of course I will.”
“I know I haven’t been the best husband in the world to Marie. She deserves better than me. But I need to know she’ll be taken care of. And I know Rebecca’s got a hard head; she’s liable to forget about her mother if you don’t stay on her.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“Good. Thank you.”
I speed up a bit when I see I’m lagging too far behind Bruno. “Is that it?”
“No, actually, there’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time.” His voice sounds a bit strained. “You’ve been like a son to me. From the moment I met your mother when you were just eight years old, I knew I’d found the son I never had. You were just like me.”
I don’t know how to respond to this. I’m not good with emotional stuff.
“When you were twelve, your mom and I broke up for a year. She wanted me to adopt you so you could take my name. I told her I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t leave Marie and Rebecca.” From the corner of my eye, I can see him turn to face me. “I know I’m not the kind of father Rebecca wanted, and I wasn’t the kind of father you deserved, but you’ll always be like a son to me. And if anything happens to me today, I want you to know that. Understand me?”
“Yeah, I understand,” I answer without looking at him.
“No, you don’t understand. Look at me, Marco. ‘Cause I need you to understand this.”
I turn to face him and there are tears in the corners of his eyes. “And there’s something else I need to tell you… about your mother’s death. It wasn’t—”
His eyes widen at something in the road ahead of me. I swerve to avoid Bruno’s car and the 370Z goes flying into a grassy ravine.
Chapter 13
I wake up surrounded by the smell of gasoline. My body’s moving, but it’s not me moving it. I look up and the bottom of Bruno’s square jaw is the first thing I see.
“Let me go!” I shout at him.
“This car’s gonna fucking blow!” he shouts back.
I look around and realize I’m still halfway inside the car. Then the smell of gasoline hits me again. Shit! I push Bruno off me and scramble out of the broken 370Z onto the grassy terrain. About forty yards south of us is an orange fireball giving off plumes of thick black smoke.
I crouch down to look at the passenger seat and my heart stops. “Where’s John?”
Bruno grabs my arm. “He’s gone! Come on. We gotta get the fuck away from this thing!”
I push Bruno off me again and glance back at the car one last time before I walk away.
“What do you mean, he’s gone? He was right fucking there!”
The explosion blows both of us forward and we land face down in another part of the field that smells like animal piss. I push up into a sitting position as something trickles down my neck. I swipe my hand across the back of my neck and head. There’s just enough moonlight out here for me to see the red glint of blood smeared across my fingers.
“What the fuck happened?”
“A fucking deer.”
“A deer?”
“A fucking deer,” Bruno repeats. “I slammed on the brakes and you must have swerved to avoid me and landed in this ditch. Jake and Al slammed into me. They didn’t make it.”
“Where’s Billy?”
“He went to look for John. The house is less than a quarter-mile from here. We think that’s where he went.”
“Alone?”
Bruno shrugs and I feel like punching him in the side of his enormous blockhead. He had to slam on his fucking brakes. Jake and Al are dead, and John is missing. This plan couldn’t be a bigger clusterfuck if I executed it with a group of first-graders.
“We have to go after them. They’re outnumbered and out-armed.”
Bruno and I load up on ammo and weapons then head down the ravine toward the open pasture. I ignore the woozy feeling I get every time I bend my neck forward. Once I’m done with this mission and Rebecca’s safe, I’ll have time to worry about that.
The darkness of night doesn’t provide enough cover once we get closer to the farm. From our hiding place behind a large oak tree on the eastern side of the property, I can see the entrance to the farm is fortified with a well-lit guard station. I can’t actually see the guard inside the station from here. For all I know, John may have taken him out. Or the other way around.
We could ho
p the wooden perimeter fence, but the goats are bedded down near a large building just thirty yards to the south. It’s summer and they’re enjoying the cool evening breeze while cuddling with their kids. If we wake even one of them, their brays will alert everyone.
“We have to go to the rear of the property,” I whisper to Bruno.
“That’s where the house is. You don’t think it’s crawling with guards back there?”
“No. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that Tony Angelo is a fucking idiot. I’d be surprised if there are more than two guards back there. We can take them out.”
The second we move out from behind the cover of the oak tree, we begin to take fire. We both drop onto our bellies on the ground next to the wooden fence.
“We’re gonna have to crawl to the back of the house. Cover me.”
I begin crawling along the edge of the fence, but I don’t hear Bruno crawling after me. I don’t have to turn my head to know he’s been hit. I can’t turn my head. Someone can come at me from any direction. But I can’t leave Bruno. Fuck!
I turn away from the fence and crawl back to Bruno. He’s been shot in the clavicle at the base of his neck. There’s no tourniquet that can stem the blood gushing from his artery.
I feel around for a pulse on the other side of his neck and it’s so weak I can hardly find it. Fucking Bruno.
“You motherfucker,” I whisper. “I’ll be back for you, buddy. You just sit tight. I’ll be back.”
I can’t get pinned down here. I can’t die on the fucking side of a goat farm. And I ain’t crawling nowhere.
I stand up and the first bullet whooshes past the right side of my head. I take off running toward the back of the house.
Just sixty yards.
Another bullet takes a chunk out of an oak tree on my right. I keep moving. Faster than I’ve ever run before.
Ten yards.
Another bullet slices through the wooden fence and shoots a fat splinter of wood straight at my ear.
“Motherfucker!” I cry, but I keep going.
Then I’m there. The back of the house where there are two cars parked in a large dirt lot. The back porch is unguarded. Either this is a trap or I just lucked the fuck out.
I race up the steps and that’s when I see Billy laid out on the other side of the porch steps. Dead. A gunshot to the fucking eyeball.
I wrench open the back door with enough force to rip it off its hinges. Where the fuck is the motherfucker who killed Billy? And where the fuck is John?
I race across the kitchen and into a living room area. Tony’s in the basement. Where’s the door to the fucking basement?
It’s too dark in here to see shit. I keep bumping into tiny tables. Knocking over lamps and decorative plates. People and their fucking knickknacks.
The sound of a gunshot comes without warning from the space on my right. As my eyes begin to adjust a little to the darkness, I see the door to the left of the staircase. It must lead down to the basement. My reinforcements better show up soon.
Pulling my .45 out of my waistband, I head for the door. I walk slowly at first, but the sounds of moaning urge me on. Please don’t let it be John.
Turning the doorknob, I expect gunshots to come immediately, but they don’t. I throw open the door and stand to the side, waiting. Nothing.
Peeking my head around the doorway, I see nothing but a carpeted flight of stairs leading down to more carpet. I creep down the first few steps slowly, my heart pounding like a fucking jackhammer in my ears. When I reach the second to last step, I see him.
John Veneto lying dead on the carpet not more than eight feet away from me. I take the final step and duck when I see Tony Angelo pointing a gun at me. The shot rips through the drywall above me. The wall coughs up chunks of gypsum all over my head.
“Give it up, Tony. I’ve got guys all over this place. You’re dead.”
“Bullshit! Your guys are all dead!”
“You can walk out of here, Tony. All I want is Rebecca. Tell me where she is, and we’ll let you go.”
I press my back against the wall and move my head a little to the left. I think I see a mirror. I inch sideways again and he blows off another shot. This one clips my jacket and leaves the skin on my left arm searing from the heat.
“I’ve got every reason to kill you!” I shout at him. “Do you know who I am?”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Of course I know who you are. You’re the low-life cum-dumpster who killed my mother ten years ago.”
He laughs at this description. “I like that! Cum-dumpster. Very funny.”
“It won’t be funny when you’re getting cum dumped all over your spleen at Rikers.”
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. That’s hilarious.”
This fucking asshole is begging to be shot.
“Enough bullshitting, Tony. Where’s Rebecca?”
He finishes his laughing fit. “But you still haven’t let me tell you who I am.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Have you watched Star Wars, Marco?”
My heart drops into my stomach as I realize what he’s implying. “You’re a fucking liar.”
He continues to laugh, and that’s when I hear it. The same laugh I’ve heard come out of my own throat for twenty-eight years.
No. There is no fucking way Tony Angelo is my father. This is fucking bullshit!
He won’t be my father anymore if I kill him.
But I need to find out where Rebecca is first.
I clutch my hair in desperation. John was my father. Not Tony. And he just killed him. Which means he killed both my mother and father.
I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.
Before I can take the final step down into the basement, the door above me opens and the gunshot hits me square in the chest.
Part 4
Chapter 1
Knox
The gunshot feels like a sledgehammer to the chest. Her aim is impeccable.
“FREEZE! Drop your weapon!” she shouts at me from the top of the basement stairwell.
Both demands are unnecessary. My gun is wedged somewhere underneath my lower back and the wood floor where I’m lying. My shoulders and head are propped up against the wall behind me. I couldn’t move if I tried. I feel as if an elephant has stomped on my torso and made bone soup inside my chest cavity.
I can feel the broken ribs piercing my muscle tissue. But that’s better than being dead.
The bulletproof vest did its job. And now, injured or not, it’s time for me to finish doing mine.
She barrels down the stairs toward me, gun drawn, a steely glare in her eyes, daring me to reach for my weapon. She’s got a huge set of balls to rush into this basement, but I’d expect nothing less. The first shot out of Tony’s gun whizzes past her and lands in the mirror hanging from the wall on my left. I close my eyes and turn my face away from the explosion of glass.
She returns gunfire, but her aim is much better than his. The shot hits Tony’s right shoulder, knocking the gun out of his hand. Agent Verduta rushes into the basement, kicking Tony’s gun away from him with her thick-soled boot. She proceeds to cuff him as he spits vile insults at her.
Agent Armstrong bounds down the steps toward me, eyes still watery, massive hands clutched around the gun pointed at my head.
I smile at him then turn my attention to Tony. “I’m not done with him,” I mutter through the pain as I sit up.
Once I’m standing, Armstrong glances at my gun on the floor, then back at me. He says something about bagging the gun as evidence, but I can’t hear over the roaring rush of blood whooshing through my ears. The pain in my chest disappears as my body floods with adrenaline once again.
“WHERE IS SHE?” I roar at Tony.
Verduta gently lays him on his back as his blood begins to pool on the dusty wooden floor. I rush further into the basement, but chubby Verduta surprises me with the reflexes of a cat. She draws her gun from her holster and points
it at my head when I’m just a few feet away.
“Stay back!” she growls, not an ounce of fear in her eyes. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re assisting in this investigation. I will blow your fucking head off!”
We stare each other down for a moment. The air is completely still, charged with electricity. My muscles are wound so taut I can hardly breathe. I can sense Armstrong’s huge presence somewhere behind me. No doubt his gun is pointed at the back of my skull.
I grit my teeth, trying to temper the desperation. I need to find Rebecca. That was the whole fucking deal! If I gave them Tony, they’d let me question him. But I’m sure Verduta knew the moment Tony dropped the bomb that he’s my biological father, she couldn’t leave me alone with him in this basement.
She was right. If she hadn’t shot me, I was going to kill him. Even despite the deal I made with Geneva.
I offered to let Tony live if Geneva promised to keep what happened in that warehouse, and my true identity, a secret. Pregnant women are not easy to negotiate with, especially when you’ve just murdered the father of their child. But her silence in exchange for her father’s life was a small compromise to make.
And now that I know the truth about Tony Angelo’s identity, I’m sickened by another realization. By killing Nico, I killed my unborn nephew’s father. This thought only makes me want to kill Tony even more. If I don’t do something soon, I’ll explode with hatred.
“WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?” I demand.
Tony coughs then lets out a weak cackle. “She’s dead.”
He continues to laugh. Verduta keeps her gun trained on my forehead as my fists clench at my sides.
“He’s full of shit, Savage,” Verduta tries to reassure me. “You know it and I know it. Don’t fall for this. Don’t do something you’ll regret. Think of Rebecca.”
“She’s suckin’ on seawater!” Tony cackles. “Bye-bye, Rebecca.”
Verduta can sense my patience waning as my adrenaline peaks. The lion in me is ready to pounce. Just when I’m certain she’s going to pull the trigger and blow my head off, she spins away from me and pistol-whips Tony.
