Anthony

by Sydney Landon

  I drop my head forward, hating that I’ve forced her from her safe place. I have questions—up to and including the night she shot her father—but she’s been through more than enough today. And really, I don’t think I can deal with anything else right now. I need time to sort this out in my head. He will pay but only when I’ve planned how. I want—need—to hold her, to comfort her. But she’s so detached from her nightmare—for now—that any softness would shatter her. So, I go with facts. “Dr. Atwell wants to check you before she leaves,” I say, thinking she’ll be grateful for a subject change. But if her frown is any indication, that’s not the case.

  She smooths her hands over the wrinkled sheets as if it’s of the utmost importance that they be returned to order. “So that’s it then?” she asks in a small voice. “After I’ve confessed to you that I was my father’s whore, you have no comment?” I’m frozen in place at her words. Whether she realizes it or not, there’s so much self-loathing in her tone. But more than that, there’s also a sick kind of acceptance that what she believes of herself is true. “You’re what…going to avoid any more awkward conversation until you can get away from me? Bet you wish you hadn’t insisted I stay with you now. Certainly makes things harder, doesn’t it?”

  “Jacey, shut the fuck up,” I bellow. Her mouth drops open, and her eyes go wide. Yes, it feels all kinds of wrong to yell at someone who just shared something so abominable, yet I know instinctively that tenderness would be scoffed at. Her brain works differently than other women. There have been some tender moments between us, but I know those made her uncomfortable. She’s spent so many years walling herself off from others that she has a hard time accepting and processing kindness. And knowing now how her father blackmailed and used her, I understand her suspicion of others. She doesn’t trust that anyone could genuinely care about her. She doesn’t believe she’s worth it.

  Her eyes narrow, then she almost has me smiling when she shoots me a bird before saying, “Up yours, Moretti. A rabid dog has better manners than you do.” She’s pissed, but there is color in her cheeks again. And she no longer sounds like a robot. Although, maybe it would have been better to leave her in that state for a while longer if it made it easier to deal with what she’s been through. Too late now.

  I twist my lips into a smirk. “You’re probably right. But you must admit, I’m much more attractive.” I extend my arm and deliberately flex my muscles. “Impressive, right?” My action and comment literally have me gagging, so I can only imagine what her reaction will be.

  “Are you serious?” she chokes out, then actually begins laughing. Ouch, a direct hit to the pride. “My God, your vanity is out of control. Of course, with nitwits like Amber hanging on your every word, I guess it was bound to happen.”

  My father once told me that sometimes even the best of us must “take one for the team.” And that’s what I do now. If making fun of me keeps her from falling into an abyss of painful memories, then I’m more than happy to do it. After all, I’ve spent years around Marco and Nic—who constantly argued with each other over who was better looking. It appears I’ve picked up a few things along the way. I lean against the wall, feeling the weight on my shoulders lighten as our verbal banter distracts us both from the conversation we’ve just had. “Don’t be so hard on Amber. I’ll have you know she has a college degree.”

  Jacey lifts a brow in inquiry. “Oh, really? I wasn’t aware they offered a degree in stripping. But good for her for making the most of her profession. I’m sure there’s plenty of room for advancement.”

  The barbs continue to fly between us, and when Marco barges in without knocking a few minutes later, I am flaunting my rock-hard abs while she has a finger in her mouth making a gagging sound. It’s one of the few times in my life I can remember rendering him speechless. He moves across the room, picks up Jacey’s empty water bottle, and sniffs it. Obviously disappointed, he sets it down again. “That would have explained so much. What? Wait, never mind, I don’t even want to know.” He gives me a shit-eating grin before he adds, “But rest assured, the guys are going to hear about this weird exhibition. Have some pride and put your shirt on, man. No wonder the poor girl is about to upchuck all over herself.”

  “Thank you, Marco. You’re my hero,” Jacey declares fervently. There is a decided spring in her step when she slides off the bed and crosses the room to the bathroom. “When you’re finished admiring yourself, maybe you could find me some clothes to wear home.” I hear a giggle as she closes the door behind her.

  Marco is still grinning, but he also looks confused. Join the club, pal. I find Jacey one of my old T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants—they will be too big, but they’ll have to do for now. Then I get a shirt for myself and put it on. I knock on the door and tell her I’m leaving them for her. Then I motion for Marco to follow me out into the hallway. “Don’t even fucking say it,” I growl as he opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “It wasn’t what you think.”

  “Hmm, well it looked as if you were doing your best gigolo impersonation, but possibly I misunderstood. I gotta admit, it wasn’t exactly what I was expecting to find. Far from it.” I pull my phone from my pocket and quickly fire off a text to Dr. Atwell letting her know that Jacey is in the shower, but that she can check on her shortly. Then I start down the stairs and hear Marco fall into place behind me. I go directly to the study and pour myself a double bourbon and toss it back. Then repeat it. “Hard liquor before noon. Must be pretty serious,” he says with no hint of amusement in his voice now.

  I cross to my father’s desk and take a seat behind it. There’s something almost comforting about sitting in the same chair he spent so much time in. It makes me feel close to him again. I put my feet up and lean back, closing my eyes. “It’s worse than I imagined, brother. God, for what I now know, I fucking wish I killed Wrenn. But I understand now why she needed it. Hell, pulling the trigger that night was the only way she had any hope of getting her life back. I’d have emptied the entire cylinder into him if I were her…then reloaded and done it again.”

  Marco lowers his frame into a nearby chair and runs a hand over his neck as if bracing himself for what is to come. “How bad are we talking here? She dated Caulder at some point?”

  I lay my head back and shake it as I stare at the ceiling. “Fuck, no. I shouldn’t share her story without her consent, but if anything happens to me, promise you’ll go to Lee and tell him. I want him to understand why she treated Jade the way she has. I want her to have a chance for a normal relationship with her sister. She desperately needs to mend that fence, even if she thinks it’s too late.”

  “Lee’s only a phone call or short drive away.”

  I straighten in my seat as I prepare to repeat Jacey’s story. When I’m done, he’ll understand why I can’t go to Lee right now. Because when I walk out that door, it will be to exact revenge on Caulder. I will not rest until he has drawn his last breath. Violence is not something I enjoy, nor is it my first choice, but the sins are grave enough, so this time, there is no other choice. Evil cannot be allowed to roam unchecked. There is a balance in the world that must be maintained, and it is up to those who have the courage and the abilities to do it.

  Jacey will live a life free of Caulder, even if I must give my own to ensure that.

  11

  Jacey

  Tony has been called away on business—some issue in his South Carolina club—so Marco drove me back to his apartment. The club only opens on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday unless it’s a special event, so all is quiet when we arrive at Nyx. “I’ve never asked Tony how he came up with the name for the club. It’s a bit unusual.”

  We made the trip mostly in silence as Marco seemed to have something on his mind and wasn’t his usual outgoing self. He parks the SUV near the back door before turning to look at me. He gives me a distracted smile. “It means goddess of the night. Tony has always been a fan of Greek mythology.”

  “He certainly has many different sides,” I acknow
ledge, thinking of his crazy antics from earlier. It didn’t occur to me until I was in the shower that he was doing it for my benefit. Pretending to be horribly vain to distract me from my thoughts of Jeremy. Oh, I’m sure he’s aware of how handsome he is, but he’s not the type of man to flex for attention. Just breathing gains enough.

  “You have no idea,” Marco tosses over his shoulder as he unlocks the door and turns to wave me in ahead of him.

  When we walk into the apartment, Marco immediately checks each of the rooms. I assume to make sure someone isn’t hiding under the bed, but I don’t ask. In fact, I’m not that thrilled about being here alone with the club closed, so I’m grateful for his thoughtfulness. When he walks back into the kitchen where I’m getting a bottle of water, I’m surprised to see him pull out a barstool and sit. “How about a pizza and beer? I’ll call Leo’s for delivery. And if there’s no beer in the refrigerator, I’ll grab some from the club.”

  “You’re staying?” I ask in surprise. It had never even occurred to me that he wasn’t simply dropping me off. I know Tony has security lurking around somewhere, so I figure he considers that enough.

  “Of course.” Now he’s the one who appears startled that I’d think otherwise. “This is no place for a woman to be alone at night. I’ve always told Tony he was nuts for living here. If someone breaks in the club, then it’s not a big stretch that they’ll stumble upon this place.”

  “Gee, thanks for pointing that out. And I’m sure Tony is prepared for most anything—including that.” I pull up the baggy sweatpants I’m wearing and turn toward the bedroom. “Pizza is fine with me. I’m going to go change out of these clothes. I’m tired of tripping over the pants.”

  I take my time, in no hurry to rejoin Marco. He’s a likable guy and easy to get along with, but still—I barely know him, and I’d rather not have to carry on a conversation for hours if I can avoid it. I figure I’ll delay until the food arrives, go eat, and then shortly after fake a few yawns. I could use an early night anyway since Clint will be here around seven in the morning. I need to be at the office early to make up for missing the day today. I sit on the edge of the bed as I wait and glance around the room. There are no pictures here or many personal effects. It’s almost as sterile as a hotel room. The whole apartment is that way. My clutter is probably driving him crazy. I mentioned it to him once, and he said simply, “This is where I sleep most nights, but it’s not my home.” It was a sentiment I could relate to. I’ve felt that way most of my life. Only, there was no home somewhere waiting for me. I felt like a prisoner when I lived at my father’s house, even when I moved out to the guesthouse. When I sold it after his death and bought the condo, I went from feeling like a prisoner to a guest in someone else’s home. Strangely enough, I’ve felt more at home here than anywhere else.

  My mind again goes to my conversation with Tony earlier. The ability to remain detached in times of extreme stress served me well as I recounted what I had done in the past to protect my sister. Even with the mask firmly in place, I noticed his reaction. I didn’t detect any revulsion in his expression, only rage. He was so angry. No. He was deadly furious. I never want to be on the receiving end of that look. I’m under no delusions that he’ll storm my castle, and we’ll ride off into the sunset together. When he has time to actually consider what I’ve done, he’ll want no part of me. And he certainly won’t be willing to have a child with a…whore. Because no matter the reason, I still slept with men for financial gain…even if it wasn’t my own. I can attempt to rationalize it fifty different ways, but it will always come back to that simple point. How many hookers love their job? Sure, some might, but most probably do it for the money or some type of gain. I’m no better. I’m far from over my past, and I seriously doubt I ever will be. But maybe—just maybe—at some point I’ll make peace with it and move forward without the cloak of self-hatred attached to my skin. That’s the very best I can hope for. Even with that, it will always haunt me, and I’ll always hate myself for it—but I can’t go back in time. Finally telling someone the truth has made me feel lighter. I know that will change when Tony ends whatever this is between us. But for now, the demons in my head are quiet, and I’m going to enjoy it for as long as I can. Marco yells from the other room that our dinner has arrived, and I get to my feet. I have no idea where it comes from, but I freeze as something Tony said earlier fills me with dread.

  You’ll never have to fear him again.

  Oh, dear God, why didn’t this occur to me before now?

  Tony isn’t like other men. He’s a Moretti. You’ll never have to fear him again. It’s on a loop in my head as I take off at a run to find Marco. He’s startled when I skid to where he’s standing in the kitchen. “He’s not in South Carolina, is he?”

  He takes my arm, looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “What are you talking about, Jacey? Are you okay?”

  My voice comes out in a near shout as my fear grows. “Dammit, Marco, answer me. Tony isn’t at his club in South Carolina, is he?”

  I see it then. The shift of his eyes. Most wouldn’t notice, but I’ve spent so many years reading my father’s moods, and I’m somewhat of an expert at picking up on those types of tics. I put my hands on my head as the ramification of what I’ve caused sinks in. “He’s going to kill Jeremy, isn’t he? I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. I-I just thought he’d fire him and, hell, maybe even knock him around a little if he tried to argue. But Tony would never be satisfied with that. He’s going to ruin his life for me…because of me.”

  Marco is staring at me. Nothing in his expression says I’m being ridiculous. He opens his mouth, then closes it again and turns away. “I got the pepperoni with extra cheese. Hope you’re okay with that.” He calmly opens the pizza box and picks up a nearby plate.

  Are you kidding me? “Ignoring me isn’t going to work, Marco. I’m not a child.”

  “Then stop acting like one,” he says calmly. I want to hit him with something.

  Tears of anger and frustration fill my eyes and threaten to spill over as I cry out, “Why won’t you answer me? Don’t you care anything about Tony?”

  He whirls around so quickly that I take a step back in alarm. His calm demeanor of a moment ago is gone, and in its place is one filled with anger. Shit. “Don’t I care about my brother? You have no fucking idea, lady, but you’ve just insulted me in the worst way possible.” He’s shouting now, and my bravado is rapidly disappearing. “I’d die for Tony Moretti without a second thought. I’ve had his back for as long as I can remember. My father has had to live with Draco’s murder on his conscience for twenty years, and that will not happen to me. If I believed for one second that Tony was in danger, I wouldn’t be here babysitting you. The greatest risk Tony has ever taken is falling for you. Granted, we were all pretty gone on you the night you gunned your old man down. Any one of us would have married you on the spot. Hottest thing I’ve ever seen. But you see, Tony has always been different. As similar as we are in so many things, we look at the world a little differently. He had to get to know you. Figure out who you are…what’s going on inside your head. Hell, the fact that you shot to kill should have told him most of that, but it wasn’t enough. He sat back, waiting for you to come to him. I told him he was nuts. That he should just make the first move because obviously you were never going to do it. But then you showed up at the club pulling that asinine stunt. Again, impressed by your balls. I guess it was easier than just putting it out there and telling him how you feel.” He’s calmer now, which is almost worse than his anger. He moves toward me, and I force myself to stand my ground. Only a few inches separate us when he stops. “The biggest risk Tony has ever faced is you, Jacey. You’re a weakness to a man who had none. You came along at the absolute worst time possible for him, and he hasn’t been the same since. Everything he’s done in the last year has been because of you.”

  I’m stunned by his words. “A-are you talking about his father’s death? He said he’s been looki
ng into that for years. It has nothing to do with me.” Does it?

  Marco shrugs before leaning back against the bar. “Sure, we’ve tossed around some theories, but after he finally met you in person, saw that you weren’t just a figment of his dreams, he was determined to put things in order. He’s tried for most of his life to keep some distance between the family and himself. He doesn’t want that lifestyle. Never has. And I respect his choice. But there are those who resent that he’s allowed that choice while still having the protection and resources of the Morettis at his disposal. They forget that without Draco, there would be none of it. Everything we have is because of him. Tony makes his own living and doesn’t depend on anyone for anything. He’s a lot like his old man in that regard, so he deserves more than he ever takes. But then there was you, and suddenly, he wanted answers. Yesterday. Wanted to be able to sleep at night without the threat of someone taking him or someone close to him out.”

  One thing he said sticks out to me, and I ask, “What did you mean by a figment of his dreams?” Surely not the white picket fence kind of dreams. That’s not us.

  He shakes his head before turning away once again to get a slice of pizza. “You’ll have to ask Tony about that. I won’t betray his confidences any further. Pizza?” he asks as he holds his piece up.

  I twist my hands nervously in front of me, making one last-ditch attempt to reason with the man before me. “Bu-but what about Jeremy? We need to stop him before it’s too late.”

  He takes a bite of his food and chews it slowly. Then washes it down with some beer from a nearby bottle. “That was too late the moment he met you. I’d never stop him from doing what I would most certainly do if our positions were reversed. He’ll handle his business as he sees fit. And if he decides to take out the trash, then I’ll be there to dispose of it. You cannot and will not interfere. If you care about the man who’s put himself at risk for you, then you’ll sit down, shut up, and eat your fucking dinner. Are we clear?”