Trust In Me

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Trust In Me Page 7

by Jessica Linden


  Ryan noticed him looking at the papers. “You can push that shit aside. It’s from my stupid job. But it suits me. I don’t have to have two legs and I can work from home.” He grinned and Marco cringed. Ryan passed him a beer. “Lighten up. Do you remember that night?”

  Marco scrubbed a hand over his face. As if he could forget. “Yeah.”’

  They’d been partying with a friend of Ryan’s. The booze had been flowing and joints were being passed around freely. The host of the party had gotten a new strain he was allowing everyone to sample. As all good things went, this one didn’t last and they decided to leave for another party.

  Marco had replayed that night over and over in his mind, imagining how things could have gone differently. But then when would it end? Ryan and Marco weren’t planning to change their ways anytime soon. In retrospect, he realized it was only a matter of time before disaster struck.

  Ryan laughed. “Then you weren’t nearly as fucked up as I was. But what I do remember is I just as easily could have been the one driving that night. In fact, if I recall, I was supposed to be the one driving, but my car had a flat. If we’d been in my car, I’d probably be dead instead of in this wheelchair.”

  That night could have gone a million different ways. But the bottom line was it didn’t. And Marco wasn’t the one who’d paid the price for his own stupid decision. He’d walked away with almost no consequences.

  “You don’t know that,” Marco said.

  Ryan laughed again. “Do you remember that car? It had no airbags and the seat belts were held in place with bungee cords and duct tape.” Ryan took a swig from his bottle. “The docs told me the airbag in your fancy car saved my life.”

  Marco hadn’t known that, but how would he? After the accident, he’d removed himself from Ryan’s life, thinking it was better that way. It didn’t take him long to realize he’d taken the coward’s way out. But by then he was already gone.

  “I really wish you’d cash those checks,” Marco tried again. “It’s my salary from the army and I don’t need it.”

  Ryan eyed him thoughtfully. “I hear your family is in a heap of shit these days.”

  “That’s about accurate,” Marco said, not wanting to go into detail. “But either way, money is not an issue.”

  “Man, you don’t owe—”

  “Just think about it,” Marco interrupted. “Think about how it could improve your life. Hell, you could take it to Vegas and gamble it away for all I care. If that would make you happy, then I’m all for it.”

  “You make an excellent point,” Ryan said, running his fingers along his chin. “I’ve never been to Vegas.”

  “Say the word and I’ll book a trip.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  Marco grinned, the first smile since he’d gotten there. He’d forgotten how well he and Ryan got along. A Vegas trip actually sounded like a good idea. If Ryan wouldn’t accept cash, maybe Marco could filter the money to him in other ways.

  Marco noticed a textbook on the table that he hadn’t seen at first. English Composition Fundamentals. He nudged it. “What’s this?”

  “Shit, I need to put that away before my sister sees it.” Marco shoved it under the stack of telemarketing papers. “She’s been on me to take classes at the community college and I finally enrolled this semester. I don’t want her to get her hopes up, though. I’m not sure if it’s going to work out.”

  “That’s great, man. What are you majoring in?”

  “I don’t know. I’m starting with the basic classes. Turns out if you have a disability, there’s lots of grants and stuff, so I’m going for free. But I don’t know. I never liked school and I was never good at it. I’m more of a hands-on type of guy.”

  Marco remembered that about him. Ryan had been apprenticing with a local HVAC company. But he supposed that opportunity had dried up once Ryan became disabled. It’s not like he could crawl around in an attic space to work on air ducts.

  “You’re smart enough,” Marco said. “You’ll figure it out.”

  There was the sound of the front door opening and a female voice called, “Knock, knock!”

  Marco’s eyebrows shot up in question.

  “It’s just my sister,” Ryan said, then he called out, “In the kitchen.”

  “Ryan, I think I might have left . . .” The voice silenced as it got closer. Something was familiar about it. Marco turned.

  Kat stood in the doorway, the shock on her face slowly morphing into disbelief.

  Marco’s first thought was Damn, she’s gorgeous, which was quickly followed by Shit, what the hell is she doing here?

  Chapter 8

  Kat blinked, then shook her head as if that would change what she was seeing. Why the hell was Marco sitting in her brother’s kitchen indulging in a beer with him?

  Her first thought was stalker alert, but she quickly dismissed it. While it would be possible for Marco to learn she had a brother, he didn’t strike her as the type to become obsessive, showing up at places she might be. No, it was a stupid thought—a remnant of her past.

  But that still didn’t explain why Marco was here.

  Marco’s mouth hung open for a moment before he clamped it shut and swallowed. He looked as dumbfounded as she felt. It was actually kind of interesting to see the normally confident man thrown for a loop.

  Ryan looked back and forth between them. “Wait. Do you two know each other?”

  Kat ignored him, instead speaking directly to Marco. “What are you doing here?”

  He stared at her for a moment before answering. “I stopped by to see Ryan.”

  That much was obvious. But it didn’t tell her what she wanted to know. He was being evasive and it didn’t sit well with her. The hair on the back of her neck stood on edge and her stomach clenched.

  “Why?” Her voice was a whisper. Somehow she knew she wasn’t going to like the answer.

  Marco stood, his eyes locked on hers. But he didn’t answer her question.

  “Kat, this is Marc,” Ryan intervened. “He’s an old friend.”

  Kat closed her eyes as the truth dawned on her. Marco was Mark, as she’d spelled it in her head, the man responsible for hurting her brother. She’d never met him, had only ever known his first name and that he was from the north side of the city. That’s all she’d wanted to know. Because if she’d known more, she feared she would have sought him out and killed him. She’d had a lot of pent-up rage and judging by her reaction just now, she still did.

  “I thought your sister’s name was Katie,” Marco said. His voice sounded like a faraway echo. Kat gripped the edge of a chair, keeping her eyes closed and exhaling slowly.

  “It’s Katherine,” she said through gritted teeth. “I don’t go by Katie anymore.”

  No, Katie Morton had died when she’d left Leo. For her safety, she’d become Kat Delagrange, taking on her maternal grandmother’s maiden name.

  “Kat—”

  “It was you.” She didn’t recognize her own voice. It sounded foreign to her ears—mechanical and laced with malice. “You did this to him.”

  “Whoa, Kat,” Ryan said. “It was an accident.”

  “Get out,” Kat said quietly, her knuckles whitening on the chair. She couldn’t stand to look at him. She’d been duped—lulled into trusting him under false pretenses.

  “Kat, I swear I didn’t know,” Marco said. “I didn’t lie to you.”

  Yeah, just like he hadn’t misled her about being an Adamo. For some stupid reason, she’d decided to open herself up to him, to take a chance on a man again. Even though Marco hadn’t known it, it was a huge step for her.

  She’d been such an idiot.

  “Get out!” she screamed at him. If he didn’t get out of her sight, she wouldn’t be able to hold herself back. She’d claw his fucking eyes out. God, she was glad she’d left her gun locked in her glove compartment. She wanted to maim Marco like he’d maimed her brother.

  And hurt him like he’d hurt her.
r />   It was stupid—it’s not like they had a relationship. They’d been on one date. But he’d gotten past her defenses and that was something she could never forgive him for.

  “I’m sorry.” Marco stepped toward her and she flinched. She closed her eyes again, not wanting to look at him. After a few seconds, she heard the front door open and close.

  She turned to her brother. “You know who he is, right?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Marco Adamo.”

  “And you know I work for Adamo Enterprises now, right?” She couldn’t control the hysteria in her voice and she hated herself for it.

  “Yeah.” Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “But what does that matter? Marc—or Marco, I guess—doesn’t work there.”

  “His brother is my boss.” God, this complicated things even more than they already were.

  Kat narrowed her eyes at her brother. “You knew, didn’t you? You know I work for his brother.”

  Ryan hesitated for a moment, which gave Kat her answer. “I honestly didn’t see how it mattered. It’s such a coincidence. Small fucking world, right?”

  Kat couldn’t return Ryan’s grin. He might be able to make light of the situation, but she couldn’t.

  Ryan sighed. “Look, when you came back, you said you didn’t want to know about my friend. You said it didn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters!” she shouted. She took a deep breath and got herself under control again. “I just didn’t want to know because I couldn’t trust myself not to do something stupid.”

  After she’d finished with Leo, she’d been so broken. As she’d picked up the pieces and put herself back together again, she was filled with such rage—at Leo, at the man who did this to her brother, at the world. It took her a long time to learn to manage her anger.

  Ryan rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “Do you know why Marco came here today? He wanted to know why I haven’t cashed any of the checks he’s sent. Every fucking month he sends me a check. Hell, I think he sent his entire salary.”

  Ryan had never said anything about receiving money. She regarding him coolly. Why the hell hadn’t he said anything? She was glad he didn’t take Marco’s money, though. They didn’t need his guilt money.

  “That doesn’t make up for what he did. You didn’t see yourself lying in that hospital bed, fighting for your life. And then once you lost your leg, you didn’t see yourself fighting to find the will to live. And then when you . . .” Kat choked back a sob. She’d found him drunk and high on pain meds with a gun in his hand. If she’d been just ten minutes later . . . she couldn’t bear the thought.

  Ryan’s expression softened. “Aw, hell, Kat. That’s on me. I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry I’m still putting you through shit. But I’m just as much to blame as anyone else. It was everybody’s fault and nobody’s.”

  She shook her head. “You weren’t driving.”

  “Christ, Kat. It was a fucking accident. I’ll tell you what I told him. It was only by chance that I wasn’t driving that night. We were lucky to be in his car when we wrecked. If we’d been in my shitty car, we’d both be dead.”

  “You can’t play the ‘what if’ game, Ryan. You can only live in the ‘what is.’ And ‘what is’”—she gestured to Ryan’s wheelchair—“is his fault.”

  Ryan scratched his chin, looking at her thoughtfully. “Why do you care so much? Why can’t you let it go?” His eyes widened. “Oh, shit. He’s the brother of your friend. He’s the guy you’re going out with.”

  Kat clenched her teeth. “Not anymore.”

  * * *

  Marco sat in his truck for a few moments before starting it. He probably should have driven away immediately to spare Kat from seeing him in case she looked out the window, but he needed a moment for the world to come back into focus.

  Fuck. Kat was Ryan’s sister. He’d known his friend had a sister, but when they used to hang out, she hadn’t lived around here. And Ryan had called her Katie, not Kat. He was certain of that.

  He should laugh at the irony, but he couldn’t. Just the other night, he was explaining why he hadn’t told her who his brother was. Now, it was the discovery of who her brother was that fucked everything up.

  But damn, he couldn’t blame her for being pissed. If their situations were reversed and Tony was in the wheelchair, Marco didn’t know if he’d be so quick to forgive and forget, either.

  For half a second there, he’d actually started to forgive himself. Ryan didn’t hold that fateful night against him and he had every right to. So why shouldn’t Marco begin to move past it?

  Because of Kat. Ryan might be ready to forgive and forget, but though he was the one in the wheelchair, he wasn’t the only one affected by the accident. And Marco would do well to remember that.

  He’d do anything to go back in time and make a smarter decision. To call a cab or walk or something. Their destination had only been a damn mile down the road. But they’d been young and stupid and felt very much invincible.

  He started the truck and backed out slowly, wishing he had somewhere to go other than to his parents’ house and the train wreck that awaited him there.

  What the hell was he doing here, anyway? His presence hadn’t seemed to be of use to anyone. If anything, he was just making things worse. He’d brought pain to Kat and there was nothing he could do to help Tony—when he tried, he felt like he was in the way. His being in the house wasn’t helping his mother cope any better.

  His hands gripped the steering wheel as anger filled him. He was pissed at the damn oil slick on the road that had contributed to the accident, he was pissed at chance—that his friend had been injured instead of him—but mostly he was pissed at himself. All of this was his own doing.

  Not quite. Yeah, he could have stuck around and taken his place at Adamo, but he knew better than to think he could’ve controlled his father any better than Tony. So he was also pissed at his father.

  And come to think of it, now might be the perfect time to pay him a visit. Might as well make an already shitty day even shittier.

  * * *

  Marco sat in the visitation room, waiting for his father to be brought to him. At the table across the room, a man in an orange jumpsuit with tattoos all over his shaved head visited with a young woman and an infant. Hearing the man make cooing noises to the baby made Marco do a double take.

  He drummed his fingers on the table, annoyed at how long it was taking. It darkened his already bad mood.

  The hatred that had been in Kat’s eyes slashed at his heart and he couldn’t get the image of her screaming at him out of his mind.

  Finally, his father was escorted in. No shackles or anything, so that was good he supposed. His father must not be seen as a threat. While he had been formidable wearing a suit in a boardroom, in the tattered orange jumpsuit, he looked like a feeble old man. It appeared prison life wasn’t agreeing with him.

  That was his own damn fault. Apparently he’d acted like a pompous ass in front of the judge, who’d then proceeded to deny his bail request. There was also the question of whether the drugs had been transported over states lines, making it a federal crime.

  Marco had to hand it to him, though. When he sat down on the other side of the table, he still managed to maintain an air of arrogance.

  Prick.

  His father folded his hands on the table. “What do you want?”

  Marco leaned back in his chair. “Nice to see you too, Pops.”

  “Cut the shit. We both know you and Tony have no love lost for me.”

  “Are you just now figuring that out?”

  His father shrugged. “I’ve known you two were ungrateful bastards for some time.”

  Marco chuckled for a moment. “I only wish I was a bastard so that I didn’t have to claim you as a father.”

  “I was a good father to you.”

  “Bullshit.” But Marco wasn’t here to hash out whether his father going into the office on multiple Christmas
es had ruined his childhood. For the record, it didn’t. His mother, Nonno, Nonna, and Tony had always been enough. It was actually somewhat of a relief when his father wasn’t around.

  “How could you do it?” Marco asked.

  “You’re assuming I’m guilty,” his father said with a sneer. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘innocent until proven guilty’?”

  “You’re unbelievable. Even if you have no integrity, how could you do this to Mom? And Nonna? You have to at least care about them.”

  “Business matters are no concern of theirs.”

  Had his father always been this cold? Marco stared into his father’s dark eyes, searching for some sign of humanity. He found none.

  This was a waste of his time. Deep down he’d known it would be, but he’d had to give it a shot.

  Wordlessly, he got up and left, not looking back. His father wasn’t even worth the trouble of one last parting shot.

  * * *

  When Natalie called, Kat was well into her third glass of wine that evening—the night she was supposed to be on her date with Marco. She hadn’t bothered to formally cancel on him. She figured he was smart enough to know it was a no-go.

  Normally, Kat was good at hiding her feelings, but she was just distraught and buzzed enough that Natalie saw through her claim of being “fine.”

  Natalie had immediately called Ginny and the two women brought in reinforcements in the form of a case of wine and nachos. Oh, and three different kinds of ice cream and four boxes of cookies. Couldn’t forget that. That was Ginny’s contribution.

  Kat was lucky to have such good friends, which was a relatively recent development. She’d always been kind of a loner, even back in high school when most of her classmates were forming cliques. The thought of a sleepover with a dozen other teenage girls had repulsed her. She’d always been somewhat of an old soul, which was how she ended up dating an older man straight out of high school.

  These days, though, she saw the value of good friends since she’d finally found the right ones.

  Of course, Ginny was engaged to Tony, who was the brother of Marco, so that made things complicated. Talk about awkward.

 

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