Family Ties (Morelli Family, #4)

by Sam Mariano

  Sal doesn’t say anything; he remains with his back against the door and closes his eyes, messaging the bridge of his nose.

  Finally he says, “You know I don’t want war with your brother, Francesca. You know that.”

  “I know you’ve told me that,” I state, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know if it’s true.”

  “You think I’d lie to you?” he asks, evenly. He doesn’t sound angry or defensive, but I don’t know how to interpret that. I feel like I know him inside and out, but in rare moments since all this shit got kicked up, I’ve realized there’s a side of him I don’t know. The side he told me I’d never need to know, because it’s the business side, and I’m not business. But this is business. Our relationship isn’t, but his family’s fight with my brother? That’s business.

  And it can destroy us.

  “Yes,” I finally answer. “Yes, I do.”

  He nods wordlessly, watching me. Then he steps out of the way of the door so he can open it, slipping outside to leave me in here by myself, just like I asked for.

  ---

  I don’t know if Sal’s coming up to bed or staying downstairs, so I shut off the lights and climb into bed alone. I can’t fall asleep, though. Too many thoughts are running circles around my head, too many things to worry about.

  I can’t believe Meg pushed Mateo out of the way of a bullet. I still have my doubts about her, but for the first time, I consider maybe I haven’t given her a fair chance. I don’t even understand how they were out for Mateo to be targeted in the first place. Meg is supposed to be locked up in the dungeon, and once Mateo uncovered Antonio’s plot, I was sure he’d kill her.

  Apparently I was wrong.

  I guess I’m glad. I’m still not convinced she’s the right woman for him, but if he’s going to be with the wrong woman, he could do a lot worse than one who would take a bullet for him.

  I’m really worried about what the future holds for us all. I don’t know how I build a happily ever after with the man who might be plotting to kill my brother and lying to me about it. Vince’s words come to mind, about how Sal is second-in-command and I’m crazy if I think he’s out of the loop. I want to trust Sal, but I feel like he’s lying to me. The lying itself isn’t even the issue; it would’ve probably scared me off earlier on in the relationship, but I’m in deep enough now that it won’t. I’ve grown up with men who lie when they see fit, in a family where the business side of things was kept from the women just like Sal’s. I know the drill.

  I just didn’t think it would really come to this. I thought the peace that had lasted for years would hold. We would’ve been fine if the peace held. It’s not disloyal to express opposition at the prospect of my boyfriend trying to have my brother killed.

  The door finally creaks open. I turn over to make sure it’s Sal. Once I see it is, I turn my back to him and feel a little less comfortable. I listen to him disrobe and head to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and I feel a stab of longing. It’s incredibly stupid and sentimental and just completely lame, but since we’ve been staying here we always go to bed together, so we brush our teeth together at the double sinks in the master bathroom. I feel guilty and like I’m missing out by not doing it tonight. I feel like I miss him, even though there’s only a wall between us.

  Unfortunately the physical wall isn’t the only one between us, so despite missing him, I keep to my side of the bed even after he climbs in. I wait to see what he’ll do, if he’ll say anything, but he doesn’t. I wonder how mad he is at me. I wonder if he debated even coming up here tonight. The couch is pretty damn comfortable.

  I wonder if he regrets doing all this for me. I wonder if he’s starting to doubt whether or not it was worth it. Whether or not I’m worth it.

  I hear him moving around behind me, trying to get comfortable, and then his arm snakes around my waist and he tugs me toward the middle of the bed. I can feel the relief move through me, but I’m not ready to trust it yet. The heat from his body warms me immediately and I want to shove the comforter down. There’s air conditioning so the house isn’t warm, but Sal runs hot; snuggling with him is like snuggling with a space heater.

  “Let’s look on the bright side,” Sal says suddenly. “If the maid dies, Mia gets your brother by default. You might get to rub my nose in it at their wedding after all.”

  I crack a smile, glancing back at him over my shoulder. “That’s not gonna work.”

  “No?” he asks, smirking and nodding at the faint smile on my face. “Looks like it worked to me.”

  “You shouldn’t be so confident in your abilities,” I inform him.

  “But I’m so capable.”

  “So capable of pissing me off,” I mutter.

  “Hey, I don’t pick my proficiencies.”

  I sigh, bringing my hand to rest on his arm around my waist. “This is harder than I was prepared for.”

  “I know,” he says with considerable patience.

  “I hate this,” I add.

  “Hopefully it will all be over soon.”

  If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it doesn’t. “And what does that look like? Whose funeral? This doesn’t end with everyone I love alive. There’s no way.”

  Sighing heavily, he says, “There might be one way.”

  I wait for him to go on, but he doesn’t. “Are you planning to share?”

  “Nope.”

  I lift his arm from my waist and roll over. He replaces it, but this way I can look at him. “Because it’s horrible?”

  “Every path out of this scenario is horrible in some way, Francesca. I’m doing what I can to make as many people happy as possible. I do have to consider my own family, yes. I’m set to be as responsible for them as Mateo is for yours. That doesn’t mean your needs are any less important to me. Just means more stress for me.”

  “‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.’”

  “I haven’t had to wear it yet, but my time’s fast approaching.”

  “My brother embodies that quote,” I state.

  “Your brother makes a lot of his own problems,” Sal replies. “I would ask if the bastard knows how many people it takes to keep him alive on a day-to-day basis, but he clearly does and that’s why he has you all trained like fucking monkeys.”

  “Well, he’s a very good trainer,” I say lightly.

  “Yeah, I bet he rewards you with bananas and everything.”

  Smiling faintly, I tell him, “No, his training materials run a little more expensive.”

  “Your brother’s a pain in my ass,” he states.

  My smile droops, given what almost happened tonight. “I know. He’s a pain in everyone’s ass. But he’s still important to me.”

  “I don’t want to fight with you. Especially not about your brother.”

  “Well, I don’t want him to die,” I reply unflinchingly. “Maybe he’s not a good guy, but your hands aren’t clean either and I still love you.”

  “My hands are a hell of a lot cleaner than his.”

  I think on this for a moment, wondering how dirty his hands are. I have no problem with that side of his life being separate, and considering how much I’ve had to brush under the rug with my own family, I can’t imagine Sal has any skeletons in his closet that would scare me off. I decide to ask anyway.

  “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

  “The worst thing I’ve ever done?” He pauses to think about it, looking off at a spot beyond my head. “I killed a guy in front of his dog once. The dog went over and pawed at his chest to try to wake him up, and then he just laid there and whined. I’ve never felt like more of an asshole in my life.”

  “Aw, poor dog,” I say, swatting him in the stomach. “Did you leave him there?”

  “No, I couldn’t. I took him home with me. He was old though, died a year later.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “It is. I felt bad.”

  I lean over and give him a kiss. “I still lo
ve you though.”

  Smirking lightly, he said, “I thought you might. No offense, but the family you grew up in, the brothers you have—you’ve seen worse.”

  I shrug. “I don’t see much of it first-hand, but yeah.”

  “What about you? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

  “Definitely this,” I say, without hesitation. “Setting Meg up like this and messing with Mateo’s head. Totally betraying what little trust he afforded me. This is the worst thing I’ve ever done, hands-down.”

  He sighs, his hold on my waist tightening as he pulls me closer. “I’m sorry I made you do all that.”

  “You didn’t make me do it. I wanted you enough, so I made the hard choice. I could’ve sold you out instead. I could’ve led Mateo or Adrian straight to your door.”

  “That’s true,” he acknowledges with a little nod. “Did you ever think about it?”

  “Of course not,” I say, lightly shoving his shoulder.

  “I won’t be mad; you can tell me if you did.”

  “I didn’t consider it.” I pause, then add, “I did experience a bout of cold feet my last night at home, though. It wasn’t because I doubted wanting to be with you, it was just… fear of change, I guess. Especially change on this level. Something so permanent, so impossible to take back if it turned out to be a mistake. I’m sure you had doubts of your own.”

  I expect him to play it off, deal me some of his signature charm. But he’s sincere, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind my ear, his gray eyes somber. “Not a single one.”

  Well, that makes me feel like an asshole.

  “Not even the last couple hours?” I ask lightly.

  He rolls his eyes, like that’s a ridiculous suggestion. “Of course not. We had a fight. Couples fight.”

  “Is that what Ethan told you?” I tease.

  “Believe it or not, I worked that one out on my own.”

  “You’re so smart.”

  “I’m a regular relationship expert.”

  I offer a smile, leaning in almost close enough to kiss him, but just lingering near his lips. “I’m a lucky woman.”

  “Damn straight,” he says, before grabbing me and closing the distance.

  Part

  Three

  Chapter Thirty One

  Francesca

  I always figured Adrian would find us.

  It didn’t matter that we were well-hidden, that Sal’s connection to Ethan is tenuous at best, that their sort-of friendship is pretty much off-the-radar, given Ethan himself is pretty off-the-radar. Adrian is good at what he does, and what he can’t get done himself, he gets through other people. I just didn’t think Ethan would be the one to lead Adrian here, and when I see them get out of the car together, I almost have a heart attack.

  Sal sits on the edge of the bed, solemn, but not surprised. I don’t know what to think. Is he just accepting the end? Adrian isn’t a man you want to take on, and I can only envision a violent end, but when I drop to the ground and drag the case housing Sal’s gun out from under our bed, he doesn’t even move to take it from me.

  “Put it back,” he says, easily.

  My brown eyes go wide. “What are you doing? You have to do something.”

  “All we do now is wait,” he states.

  I shake my head, refusing to accept that he’s lost. Even if I always suspected he might, I refuse to allow it now. “Adrian is a reasonable man. I can talk to him. I’ll talk to him,” I decide, pushing up off the ground and making my way toward the door.

  That finally gets Sal moving. He crosses the room, catching my wrist as I reach for the knob. He takes my hand and gently eases me away from the door. “It’s over, Francesca. We’re not hiding anymore. I told Ethan to bring Adrian here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we can’t hide forever. The longer this goes on, the harder it’ll be to resolve without pissing everybody off. He’s not here to hurt us.”

  I don’t understand, but I don’t have long to wonder. Not a minute later, Ethan comes into our bedroom to get a gun from Sal. He doesn’t get his gun out from under the bed. He goes over to the dresser and pulls open the bottom drawer, drawing out a gun with a silencer screwed onto the end.

  My blood runs cold. Are they double-crossing Adrian?

  “No,” I say, shaking my head and slowly moving toward the door, as if I can stop them. “No. You can’t shoot Adrian. I’ll go down and talk to him—he won’t hurt me.”

  Ethan raises his eyebrows at Sal in a gesture that expresses “I told you so” without words. “This is why you should’ve explained things to her.” Then, to me, Ethan says, “I’m not going to shoot Adrian. I don’t have a death wish.”

  “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” I demand.

  Ethan glances at me, but since I’m not his problem, he heads for the door. “I hope I don’t get killed, but if I do, make sure you tell Willow I love her.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Sal says, like there’s no other way it could go. “You have Adrian Palmetto for back-up. If you get yourself killed with Adrian for back-up, you deserve to die.”

  “You’re such an asshole,” Ethan informs him.

  Nodding once, Sal says, “I’ll come down when it’s over.”

  Ethan goes downstairs with the gun, and I’m completely lost. I don’t know who to trust right now—I was half-tempted to stop Ethan anyway, just in case they were lying to me. Forget Adrian practically being family; if they kill Adrian, my brother will incinerate everyone even remotely associated with Sal’s family to avenge him.

  Sal sits back down on the bed. I continue pacing, occasionally casting worried glances at him because I have no idea what’s happening, but I feel like we need to be doing something.

  “Who are they waiting for?” I ask, going on the little pieces of the puzzle I possess. “Who is Ethan shooting? I didn’t even think Ethan shot people. I thought he was Mr. Straight and Narrow.”

  Nodding a bit vacantly, Sal says, “He is. There’s one exception. One person he considers so evil he can justify putting a bullet in his chest.”

  My eyes widen, because when people refer to evil men, I automatically think of Mateo. Only Adrian is downstairs, and Adrian wouldn’t turn on Mateo.

  “Who?” I ask.

  “The person responsible for what happened to Willow.”

  He hasn’t told me he figured out who was behind that, so that doesn’t help me. Delmonico is the only name I can even pull from all that, but my brother was long-cleared of having anything to do with Willow’s predicament.

  I want to keep asking questions, but I see another car slow to a stop on the street and turn into our driveway.

  “Come away from the window,” Sal says sharply.

  Sal doesn’t usually use his authoritarian tone on me, so I’m surprised enough that I obey, moving away and taking a seat beside him on the bed.

  “Are we in any danger?” I ask quietly.

  “Not right now, no.” Falling back on the bed, Sal says, “I know you have a lot of questions, but please, just… I need some peace right now.”

  I don’t know what he needs it for, but he’s clearly distressed. I respond to that, curling up beside him on the bed and draping an arm across his waist. He closes his eyes. I watch him, a million questions still running through my mind, but I leave him alone and let him have his peace.

  The house is completely quiet and Ethan left our door cracked open. Despite their names, silencers don’t keep a gunshot completely quiet, and even though this level of violence never happens around me, I understand immediately what I’m hearing when it happens the first time. The thumping sound that follows is less subtle. Sal covers his face with his hands and my stomach sinks. I don’t know what’s happening, but I know it’s bad. I know someone’s been shot. I want to ask Sal if he’s okay, but I’m afraid to speak.

  Then there’s another gunshot.

  Sal drops his hands, stares at the ceiling for a moment
, then pushes up off the bed. Now he’s the one who reaches beneath the bed for his gun case, throwing it open and fiddling with it for a moment. He shoves his gun in the waistband of his jeans and fear moves through me. He’s calm, methodical, emotionally vacant. I don’t know what to do. He stands and moves to the door, creeping out into the hall to look downstairs.

  He comes back a moment later. He’s still vacant, but a touch more relaxed. Whatever threat he was momentarily worried about, I guess he isn’t anymore.

  “All right,” he says, more to himself than me. He presses his hands against his face again, taking a breath and pushing it out. “All right.” Now he looks over at me. “You ready?”

  “For what?” I ask, since he still hasn’t explained.

  “To end this.”

  That’s incredibly vague, but he’s still distant and I don’t know how to process it. Instead of bugging him with more questions, I push off the bed and follow him out into the hall. Instead of walking downstairs, he stops at the top. I’m feeling especially protective, so I wrap my around his waist. I hear Ethan’s voice, so I look up at Sal. Whatever he was feeling a moment ago, you can’t tell now. He’s cleared it all away and replaced it with his calm, cool, cocky demeanor.

  My heart stalls as Adrian comes into view. A rush of warmth hits me, seeing someone familiar, knowing he’s safe despite everything that’s gone on. Since I’m watching Adrian, I see his blank expression slip for a moment, registering a split second of surprise when he sees me. He clears it just as fast, but I’ve already seen it. He didn’t know he’d find me here.

  Sal speaks first. “Hello, Adrian. Long time no see.”

  Adrian’s gaze moves from Sal to me, then to my arm around his waist. He frowns, then meets Sal’s gaze, even less trusting than a moment earlier. I assume he wants to ask what the hell is going on here, but he doesn’t want to show his hand, so he remains silent instead.