unForgivable (An inCapable World Novel Book 2)

by Sara Hubbard

  “Mickey, don’t talk like that.”

  “Promise me!” he says, his voice straining. “There is nothing more important than respect. This is how we fix what Mona did. You got me?”

  I lower my head and avoid his eyes. “I promise, Mickey.” I want revenge as much as he does, but Damien’s words spring to my head. I’ve never seriously hurt anyone before and hadn’t thought about it until recently. Do I really have what it takes to take a life? I don’t know. No matter how much I want to see Jimmy and his men pay. And it hits me hard that he’s focused on fixing what Mona broke and not actually caring that she’s gone and never coming back. Can he really be this cold?

  “But first…rest, okay?”

  “Not yet…we need to talk.”

  I swallow hard. I’ve been waiting for this conversation since he the cops told me Mona was dead. Damien’s filled in some blanks, but now I have a chance to find out everything. The whole story. I settle into my chair and I give him my full attention.

  “So Jimmy had Declan and Mona called the cops to save him?” I say, summarizing what Mickey’s told me.

  Mickey scowls at me, his face a brilliant shade of crimson. “Jimmy wanted to punish Declan because he thought Declan went after Sam for attacking Evie. Sam and Jimmy had some deal…not sure what, but I’m pretty sure it was drug-related and he told Declan that Sam was off limits.”

  “So Declan didn’t listen and he killed Sam?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope, Mona did.”

  I scratch at my head. This woman who I love more than anyone has killed at least two people—that I know of. I’m not even sure how to feel about that. The only thing—for me—that makes it less deplorable is knowing in my heart that she did it to protect someone else. Evie? Declan? Maybe both. And Sam was a bad person who not only hurt Evie but came to the pub just to torment her. What would he have done to her if he got his hands on her again?

  “Okay...so why did Jimmy have Declan?” I ask.

  “Because he thought Declan didn’t listen.”

  “And then Mona got in bed with the cops to save Declan?” I pause and consider this. “So Mona wasn’t a rat. Not really.” Here I thought she’d been working with the cops for a while rather than once, as a last ditch effort to save a life.

  “Yes, she fucking was. It doesn’t matter why she did it. Bilskis don’t rat!”

  “Did you try to talk her out of it?”

  He narrows his eyes. “She called me before she went in. Said good-bye. I think she knew how it would end. I raced over there to try to stop her, but by then the cops were already raiding the place and she was dead.”

  “Did you know she killed Uncle Ralph?”

  He stares at me and doesn’t offer an answer. Okay, then. I guess that’s a yes.

  He tries to adjust his position. His muscles tense and his face tightens, and I quickly reach out to help move him over and get comfortable again. “Do you need more meds?” I ask.

  “Nah, they fucking knock me out. And I like pain. It motivates me.”

  I nod, following along, but I’m confident that’s not the main reason why Declan would have gone after Sam. He loves Evie. Sure, hurting him was revenge, but it was also a way to keep her safe. Mickey might not see that because love doesn’t come easy for him, but I can.

  “I still can’t believe she’d go to the cops,” I say softly.

  “It was that bitch, Evie. From what I heard, she’d gone to them before. She’s in protective custody right now and I swear if I see her again, I’ll put a fucking bullet in her head, too.”

  “Don’t say that, Mick.”

  “I’m speaking the truth, kid. Wasn’t for her none of this would have happened. Declan would be safe and so would Mona. Behind every ruined man sits a smiling woman.”

  “No, if it wasn’t for me…”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. Forget I said anything.” He doesn’t need to know about how my actions created a domino effect that landed us in our current predicament. And explaining won’t help. He’ll still blame Evie because he doesn’t like her. He doesn’t like many people—especially women. I don’t think he’s ever been in love. He’s always thought women were the root of all evil and yet he’s allowed himself to care for Mona and me and perhaps no one else. I want to yell at him for it, but then…I love him. Unconditionally. The way family’s supposed to.

  He looks around the room and grips my hand. “Now, do you mind telling me where the fuck we are?”

  “Um…well…I…”

  “Spit it out, will ya?”

  “Wow, you’re certainly as cranky as ever.”

  “What can I say? Getting shot doesn’t put me in the brightest mood.”

  “We’re at Carrie’s cousin’s place. He’s a medic.”

  “A stranger?”

  “No, he’s not a stranger. I trust him.”

  He looks at me through narrowed eyes. “I taught you better than that.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, Mickey. He saved your life. Now get some sleep.”

  “Not until I meet my savior. Get him the fuck in here.”

  When I find Damien, he’s crouched by the door, a drill in one hand and a long screw in the other. He’s installed a deadbolt at the top of the door and now it appears he’s adding one to the bottom. I’d ask if this is necessary but then, I know it is, especially after his mother picked her way in and Carrie… How the hell did Carrie get in?

  “Mickey wants to see you,” I say to Damien.

  He turns to glance at me and then drills the final screw into the bottom deadbolt. Carrie is leaned against the wall, rolling her eyes. “How will I get in now?” she says, smiling.

  “You knock on the door like a normal person,” I say.

  “I only picked the lock because Damien didn’t answer when I knocked. I thought something was wrong.”

  “Does everyone know how to pick a lock except me?” I ask.

  They both shrug their shoulders. “I learned when I was eight,” Damien says.

  “Ten,” Carrie adds.

  “Fantastic.” Apparently, I missed some lessons in criminality from my aunt and uncle.

  “Does Mickey need more pain medication?” Damien asks as he drops the drill onto the kitchen island.

  “No. He wants to talk to you.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that’s not a good thing?” He puts his hand on his hips and his expression seems guarded.

  “Well,” I whisper. “How about if we don’t tell him who you’re related to, just yet.”

  Carrie smiles at me. “Look who’s keeping secrets now.”

  I glare at her. Sarcasm is the last thing I need right now.

  “Do I need a bodyguard?” Damien touches his hand to my waist when he reaches me.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “Just be honest.”

  “Except for talking about my family?”

  “Except that,” I agree.

  When he goes into Mickey’s room, I hear Mickey tell him to shut the door. I bite my lip as Carrie’s and my eyes lock. Maybe him going in alone isn’t such a good idea.

  “It’s not like he has a gun or anything,” she says. “Right?”

  “No, of course not,” I say, but then I really think about that for a minute to make sure it’s true.

  Carrie sits with me while I wait for Mickey to talk to Damien. I know she’s tired from working earlier and I should tell her to get some sleep, but I can’t bring myself to say good-bye. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Damien to slip and tell Mickey who he is and for Mickey to attempt to kill him. It’s a crazy thought, but then, my Uncle Mickey doesn’t think like a normal person.

  “Should you maybe go in and check on them?” Carrie asks, pointing to the room.

  “I don’t know.” I chew at my nails.

  “They’ve been in there an hour.”

  “You’re right. I can’t sit here any longer.”

  I knock on the door and neither
of them tell me to come in. Or maybe I don’t wait to give them the opportunity. I open the door and peer in, looking back and forth between them. Mickey’s dripping in sweat, even more than earlier. His eyes are glossy and he gives me a half smile.

  “Everything okay?”

  “I just gave him some drugs. He was having a lot of pain.”

  Mickey coughs and Damien hands him a tissue. I gasp at the crimson stain on the white paper. “Oh my God.”

  Damien gives me a look that silences me.

  “He needs to rest. Let his body work on healing.”

  “Of course,” I say. “Mickey, do you need anything else?”

  “No, kid. I’m just going to sleep awhile.”

  “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  “You keep that promise, kid,” he says before his eyes roll into the back of his head. “Whatever you do, you keep that promise.”

  “I will.”

  Carrie leaves shortly after. She wanted to stay but has to work in the morning and there really isn’t anything she can do here, anyway. I sit in the chair beside Mickey, reading a magazine I found in the bathroom. It’s a men’s magazine, with half-naked women interspersed with thoughtful articles about cars and electronics. Not my kind of thing, but then, I’m sure it’s everything a guy could want and more.

  I’m unfolding the centerfold with wide eyes when Damien comes in to check on us.

  I let out a low whistle. “Well, Aria Fillion certainly has a lot of assets,” I say as I stare at her tits.

  He peeks over my shoulder. “I’ve seen better.”

  He smirks at me and he only lets me wonder a moment about who he’s referring to before he sticks his finger in the neck of my shirt and pulls it out to get an eyeful. “Yeah, much better.”

  With hot cheeks and a goofy smile, I bat his hand away. “Too bad you won’t see them again.”

  His eyebrows knit together. “Serious?”

  I’m still smiling. “I haven’t decided.”

  “Hmm. Well, that isn’t a no.”

  “What happened to you to change from this shy loner guy to a guy who has the balls to look down my shirt in front of my very scary uncle?”

  “A prostitute in Singapore.”

  “What?” I sit up a little straighter. “Serious?”

  He chuckles. “No.” He takes a seat on the window and the radiator rattles as he accidentally kicks it with his feet. He tenses, his nose crinkling as his eyes flash to Mickey. Luckily, he’s out cold.

  “Are you going to leave me in suspense?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know what happened or when things changed. The military helped a lot, I suppose. They tore me down, almost to the point of breaking and then…they built me back up, only I wasn’t the same. I was bigger, stronger, faster. Girls looked at me then. I didn’t have to go to them because they came to me.”

  A pang of jealousy hits me and I frown. Jealousy is something I’m familiar with. It’s something you learn to live with when you never feel good enough. Everyone has something or someone that you want, that just might make everything better in your life.

  “There were girls in my unit too. The shit they talked about would make the men blush—me included. And they seemed to want to talk to me. They said I was easy to talk to. Maybe because I listened more than I talked—I had years of practice, remember?” He winks at me. “More listening to conversations instead of being a part of them.”

  I drop the magazine into my lap and tuck my feet under me as I try and get comfy. God, this seat. He should toss it out the window. “I think it’s sad you didn’t talk in school.”

  “Yeah, why’s that?”

  “They all missed out on getting to know you.”

  “You think you know me?” he asks.

  “No. But I think I know enough to want to.”

  He holds my eyes and I feel the butterflies again.

  Mickey moans and his eyes go wide. I spring to my feet and stand over the bed but Damien pushes me aside. At his back, I can’t see what he’s doing so I hold my breath and wait for Damien to tell me what’s happening. But then he stands tall and his hands drop to his sides and there’s silence.

  “Is he gone?” I whisper.

  “No, but his pulse is weak and…”

  I push him out of the way and drop to my knees.

  “I’ll get some morphine.”

  Mickey’s breathing is irregular. He takes one breath and then pauses for a few seconds and then takes two and pauses for another ten seconds. As the time between his inhalations grows longer and longer I worry he’s left us, but then he gasps and breathes in again. His eyes are rolled back and his mouth is open wide. The bandage to his gut is stained, but not like before. I thought because he was bleeding less that maybe he’d pull through. That maybe Damien was wrong. Sure, he knows what he’s doing, but he doesn’t know how determined or stubborn my uncle is.

  Damien is at my shoulder, moving Mickey’s arm across his chest so he can jab a needle into his flesh. Seconds later, Mickey sighs and his eyelids flutter. He squeezes my hand.

  “Mickey?” I choke out. When he doesn’t answer, I say his name again.

  “You promised,” he says, his voice weak. “You promised,” he repeats.

  And then without warning it’s like his whole body sighs as his final breath escapes his lips. I don’t need Damien to feel his pulse or tell me the obvious as his eyes go blank and the color drains from his body.

  My Uncle Mickey is gone.

  I’m aware of voices, though it takes me a moment to recognize who they belong to. At some point I must have fallen asleep, bent over the bed where Mickey still lies. My trembling hands lift from his chest and I hold them up to look at them. They’re as pale as his skin.

  I push myself back to sit on my feet.

  “Beth?” Carrie says, kneeling beside me. She lays a hand on my shoulder and I turn to her, make sense of her blurred image through the fog of my tears.

  “He’s gone,” I say quietly and without emotion.

  “I know, honey. I know.”

  She pulls me into a hug and I rest my head on her shoulder. I don’t cry anymore though. I’ll never cry again. I have no one left to cry over. I look up to Damien, who leans against the far wall with his hands hanging at his sides. His face is expressionless. I glance away from him, feeling bare and exposed as I sit here. I don’t want him to see me like this. Weak. Vulnerable. Messy. The last thing I need is for people to think of me this way.

  Carrie holds me tight, her hand gently stroking my back. At some point, she guides me to the living room. I sit there by myself, alone with my thoughts. I don’t even know what I’m to do next. I don’t know who I am anymore. My life with never be the same without Mickey and Mona.

  “Mickey and I won’t always be around to take care of you.” Mona’s words hit me like a dart to the chest. I told her I could take care of myself but how can I? I’m a mess. She didn’t believe me when I said it, and deep down I know she was right. Ready or not, it’s up to me now. I need to step up and fix my messy life.

  I hear noise in the other room, ripping…grunting. It continues awhile longer and when all is silent Damien and Beth emerge from Mickey’s room to stand in front of me.

  “I should have taken him to the hospital,” I say taking a break from biting at my nails. “You said he could have survived. I could have…”

  “You did what you thought was right. You listened to what he wanted.”

  “Because he always knew best. So did Mona. I knew it was a bad idea but I refused to trust my own instincts. I didn’t want him to feel the same way about me as he felt about Mona when she died.”

  “How did he feel about Mona?”

  “Betrayed! He thought she made people lose respect for our family.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  I shrug. “So now he’s dead, but he doesn’t hate me. So, essentially, to keep his love I helped kill him. You warned me and I still refused to see reason. First Mo
na and now Mickey.” The blood of each of them forever staining my hands.

  “How could you think any of this is your fault?” Damien asks.

  “Because it is, directly or indirectly. Does it even matter?” I shake my head.

  Damien sighs in frustration as he approaches me but I take a few steps back, making it clear I don’t want to be touched.

  “We can’t change what’s happened. And unless you fired the gun that put a bullet in his gut, you’re not responsible for his death. Understand?”

  I do understand. The problem is that Damien doesn’t. He couldn’t. And I know he won’t approve of what I need to do next: carry out my uncle’s last wish. I’ll do it because I owe it to him. And because his blood is on my hands and I feel as if he won’t rest if I don’t do what I promised.

  Hours pass. I sit on the windowsill, staring out, my mind completely blank. When I found out about Mona I was so upset; I felt like I was falling apart. I should feel this way about Mickey and I don’t. I think I’m numb. If I have any emotions left inside of me, I don’t feel a single one, not even anger.

  But numb is better. It’s what I need right now to do what I need to do. Because I can’t let my emotions deter me.

  “We need to get rid of Mickey’s body,” Damien says softly as the day turns into night.

  “Body?” I scoff. “Is that what we’re calling him now?”

  Carrie elbows her cousin and he turns away from us to walk to the window. He moves the curtains aside, looking down onto the street below. It’s sunset now. Where did the time go?

  “I’m going to suggest something and you’re not going to like it,” Damien says.

  “Damien, shut your mouth. We talked about this,” Carrie warns.

  “You talked about what?” I’ve been left out of a conversation that seems to involve me. “Tell me,” I say, when no one talks immediately.

  “Your uncle is gone. His body is just a shell. If the Dantes could see for themselves that Mickey is dead…then they may just forget about you.”

  I can’t believe what they’re suggesting and it makes me want to start throwing things at them. How can they be so cold?

  Damien hold up his hands. “Hear me out. They want Mickey because they think he played a part in the death of Mona’s husband. Or maybe they think Mickey will retaliate or who the fuck knows why. Show them his body and they won’t have an issue with you anymore. You can still have a life.”