If I Could Stay

by Annette K. Larsen

  Jack pressed one hand to the back of my head and wrapped his other around me. “We’re going to figure this out,” he murmured as I took harsh, tense breaths and tried not to fly apart all the way.

  I’m not sure how long we sat there with Jack talking to me as he held me together. When I had put my pieces back in their proper order, I pulled back and he silently took my hand and led me from the cafe.

  When we got back in his car, he opened my door and I slid in.

  “I’m going to call and let Agent Spencer know we’re on our way back, all right?”

  I just nodded, wondering why he was giving me a play-by-play. He closed my door and pulled out his phone, staying outside the car as he talked. The conversation seemed to be quite a bit longer than it should have been just to tell Agent Spencer we were on our way back. I was starting to get really nervous when he put his phone away and climbed in.

  Instead of turning the car on, he took my hand and I realized he was nervous as his thumbs kneaded the back of my hand. Finally he looked up. “I think I have an idea.”

  My brow jumped. In the cafe, it had seemed as though we’d reached a dead end.

  “You asked about the possiblity of another player we could bring in to justify you knowing about your father. Someone not associated with law enforcement. I have someone in mind, but I need Agent Spencer to give you the details.”

  “So we have to go back to the office?” I said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

  “No, Agent Spencer is going to meet us here in a few minutes.”

  That didn’t sound so bad. I scooted a little closer. “So, who is it?”

  “I’m going to wait for Agent Spencer.” I could tell he hated waiting, but he was obligated.

  I sat back in my seat. “Okay.” I studied him, watching as nervousness made his cheek twitch. He was a little fidgety and I wondered why. “So…why aren’t you an agent?”

  He looked at me askance. “Would you like me better right now if I was?”

  “No, I just…for some reason it surprises me that you’re not. Maybe it would suit you. I don’t know.”

  He let out a sigh. “I did consider it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I had this idea that I could become some hotshot agent and then solve your dad’s case and win the girl.” He rolled his eyes at himself. “But then I realized it would take years to earn a case like that, and even if I did, my relationship with you would be a conflict. So instead I worked up to detective and dug up what I could on your father in my spare time. I got in touch with Agent Spencer when the time came, and I honestly didn’t expect much to come of it, but then they contacted me a week ago, asked me to come down. When Renee called you, they knew it might take some time before you received the message, and they wanted to be sure that when you came—if you came—they would be able to convince you to talk to them. Spencer knew from what I had told him that you didn’t trust law enforcement, so he asked me to come and pretty much just be a friendly face.”

  “A reason for me not to run.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged and gave me a little cocky smile. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Barely.”

  “I’m sorry I had to distribute your picture, but I needed to find you. I was fairly certain you would come and I knew we had to get you in custody long enough for me to talk to you. So”—he let out a sigh—“I told them about your IDs, because I couldn’t think of any other way to find you. Agent Spencer advised any law enforcement who saw you to detain you on possession of fraudulent identification.” His eyes were full of remorse. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t risk your father finding you first.”

  “So you would have let me rot in jail?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I’m kidding Jack.” I tried to smile. “I get it.”

  His entire body seemed to sag in relief. “You do?”

  I was about to answer, but an SUV pulled up alongside the car.

  Jack tipped his head in that direction. “Come on.”

  I warily got out of the car and Jack came around to me, placing a hand on my back and murmuring, “It’s going to be fine,” before opening the door of the SUV. His words ended up putting me more on edge, not less. I got into the SUV, slightly calmer than I had been this morning, but still freaking out inside. Jack sat in the front passenger seat next to Agent Spencer while I sat in the back, which was fine with me. I was starting to let my guard down, but everything was so jumbled that I couldn’t decide whether I should kiss Jack or run from him.

  Agent Spencer pulled out of the parking lot and jumped right in. “Miss Marchant, were you aware that your mother had a half-brother?”

  I blinked, trying to focus on this odd question. “Um…” I searched my memory. “Yes. I did know that. He was never in her life, though, and she never talked about him. Why?”

  “Your uncle was in business with your father.”

  I shook my head, tired. “If he had been, I would have known him. He would have been around the house.”

  “He was in the earlier years. You were too young to remember. I believe he and your father had a falling out when you were about five years old.”

  I blinked again. “Okay…” Where was this going?

  “Miss Marchant, your uncle has been working with us since your mother’s death to try to bring down your father’s organization. He’s built up a reputation as a big player in your father’s world so that he could continue to inform on a great deal of criminal activity.”

  I didn’t bother responding verbally, just waited for him to put the pieces together for me.

  Agent Spencer changed lanes and then glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “I think your idea of bringing in a third party who can contact your father is viable. I believe your uncle can help us. He has the motive and the resources to be privy to your father’s moves.”

  “He’s a criminal?”

  “He used to be. He’s been helping us for a lot of years now.”

  “My mother’s brother—half-brother—was a criminal and worked with my dad?” Just wanted to get my facts straight.

  Agent Spencer nodded.

  “Was he a criminal before my parents got married? Or…”

  He shook his head. “Your father taught him the family business as it were, without your mother’s knowledge.”

  I blinked and then shook my head. “Okay.”

  “I would like you to meet him. Would you be okay with that?”

  The repercussions of such a meeting flipped through my head, seeming fairly innocuous. If I was going to trust Jack and the FBI, then why not? I glanced at Jack, who had that overprotective look on his face, but oddly enough, the idea of meeting a reformed criminal felt less intimidating than stepping inside the FBI building. What did that say about my psyche?

  I shrugged. “I have no objection. If he’s been helping then he can’t be that bad, I guess. And it’s not like I haven’t been around criminals before.” I gave him a sarcastic smile.

  Jack’s mouth curved up a little.

  Agent Spencer gave a little grunt of laughter. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the ringing endorsement.” He turned left. “We’ll go pick him up now.”

  “All right.” Sure. I could meet the uncle I’d never seen before.

  19

  AS WE DROVE, I stared out the window, trying to convince myself that my stomach wasn’t in knots over the idea of meeting my mother’s brother, and wondering why in the world we had to go somewhere to meet him. “Is there a reason he’s not meeting us at the office? Don’t get me wrong—I prefer this, but I just wondered.”

  “He’s a confidential informant,” Jack answered. “If anyone sees him walk into an FBI office, he loses all credibility.”

  “Right. Cause he’s a criminal. Like my father—but not—because he changed his ways and is now helping out the good old FBI.” I turned away from the window. “Do I sound cynical? Because I feel cynical. And also a little freaked out.” I trail
ed off, sucking in a nervous breath as I tried not to dwell on the fact that I was being driven to an undisclosed place to meet a family member I didn’t know existed.

  “It’s going to be fine,” Jack said as he reached back and squeezed my hand for a moment. “And I think he’s the key to getting your father to come outside the walls of Renee’s estate, and that’s what we need.”

  I nodded, feigning confidence.

  Five minutes later, Agent Spencer pulled over in front of a row of office buildings. I reached for my seatbelt, ready to get out, but Jack rested a hand on my arm. “Wait just a minute. And remember, he’s your uncle. You can trust him.”

  I immediately started sweeping the area around us, looking for any potential threats. There were several people milling around, but none of them set off any of my internal alarms. I looked across the street and then at the road behind us.

  As I turned to survey the sidewalk behind us, a man in a suit approached the door opposite my position, opened it, and climbed in behind Jack. I was on the verge of freaking out when I realized that both Jack and Agent Spencer seemed unconcerned.

  Jack gave me a reassuring smile. “Meet your mother’s half-brother.”

  The man—my uncle—turned toward me, his movements careful, his eyes curious and maybe a bit wary. I held still, my brow furrowed as I studied him. He was big with broad, muscular shoulders. He had salt and pepper hair and his face was almost bland, not friendly or intimidating, just neutral. He looked vaguely familiar, but I didn’t know why.

  He turned his large form so that he was facing me. “Hello, Leila.”

  Agent Spencer pulled away from the curb and continued down the road.

  “Hi.” My emotions felt far-off, detached, as I stared at him. “You’re my mom’s brother?”

  He gave a tiny nod of his head. “I am.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  His jaw worked for just a moment before he said, “It’s Marcus.”

  I sucked in a startled breath through my nose and I could have sworn there was an audible click as the puzzle in my head fit together. I shrank against my door, suddenly awake and alert. Any second, I would start shaking from the adrenaline now pumping through me.

  The name echoed in my head from so long ago. Me, sitting in a chair at my mother’s funeral. A large, strange man sitting beside me. My name is Marcus.

  That’s why he looked familiar. It had been years since that encounter, but it was a moment burned deep in my memory.

  My chest heaved despite my attempts to control my breathing. “And your last name?”

  He let out a deep sigh and I wondered why he looked defeated as he said, “My name is Marcus Russo.”

  He was who I thought. I had been holding on to the hope that I was just being crazy paranoid, but now he had confirmed it.

  I wanted out of the car. I wanted to throw the door open and make a run for it, but I couldn’t seem to make my muscles unclench. My feet were tucked against the seat, crossed at the ankles, my calves stiff and screaming as my toes pressed into the floor. My hands were gripping the seat belt so hard I was sure they would be white if I looked at them.

  Clear thought fled. I couldn’t move. My eyes darted over to Jack, sitting in the front seat, his anxious face turned to watch the encounter. Did he know? Did he remember what I had told him about Russo? Had the FBI told him? Surely they all knew who Russo was, his reputation, what he had done to my mother. So then why was Jack sitting there, letting this confrontation play out? Why would he put me in this position?

  If I asked them to stop the car, would they listen? Perhaps Russo had this whole field office in his pocket and this entire meet-up was one gigantic power move.

  I swallowed with tremendous difficulty, my whole frame shaking as I pushed the words past my lips. “Please stop the car.” It came out in a naked whisper, and I waited. Jack and Agent Spencer could either stop and let me out, or they could keep driving and my worst nightmare would become my reality.

  Jack responded immediately, directing Agent Spencer to pull over at the next available spot. Relief swept over me, but the tension remained as I forced myself to unlock my feet and hands, as I pressed down on the button to release my seat belt. No one moved to stop me. The car came to a halt and neither Jack nor Russo said a word when I pushed the door open. I climbed out, landing on stiff legs and throwing the door closed with more force than necessary. I circled the car and stepped onto the sidewalk, my stiff legs lurching into a faster rhythm until I was running full tilt down the sidewalk, streaking past people and businesses. I glanced behind me, but the SUV was in the same place and I didn’t see the hulking figure of Marcus Russo anywhere.

  I turned the corner and slowed down then finally came to a stop, my lungs aching with fear and exertion. This street wasn’t a business thoroughfare, and hardly anyone was around. I stood there, my feet leaning one direction then another as indecision and uncertainty rattled my insides. I could keep running. Was that what I needed to do? They had let me leave, sure, but if I went back to that car, what would Russo do? Were they biding their time, waiting for the right moment to snap the cage shut?

  But the last thing I wanted to do was run, and I couldn’t if I wanted to. I had left everything in the SUV. My car keys, my locker key, my money and IDs. Jack had said Russo could help us get Renee. He’d said Russo was my uncle! I was at the FBI’s mercy. I needed them to help me get Renee out of there, but how could I trust them when they had just allowed my mother’s murderer to climb into the car with me?

  “Leila.”

  I spun at the sound of Jack’s voice and held out a hand, warning him not to come any closer. “Don’t!” I looked behind him, waiting to see if anyone else would follow.

  “It’s okay,” he said in calming tones, but I knew better. It was not okay.

  “Do you know who that was?” I demanded as I struggled to breathe.

  “Yes.” Calm. As if he hadn’t just admitted to purposefully putting me in the same space as the man I feared most.

  I turned my back on him and started walking.

  “Where are you going?” he called after me.

  “Stay away from me, Jack.”

  “He’s not who you think he is.”

  “He killed my mother!” I snapped, walking faster. “What else do I need to know?”

  He didn’t respond and I looked back to see that he had stopped walking, his face a mask of concern and confusion. “Is that what your father told you?” he asked in disbelief.

  “It’s the truth!” I turned away again.

  “No, it’s not.”

  I rounded on him, fury unleashing. “You don’t know everything! Don’t stand there thinking that a visit with the FBI endows you with all knowledge. There is so much about me, about my father, and about that man that you will never understand! Maybe he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger, but he was responsible!” I sucked in a breath as a sob threatened to well up and choke me. “And then he had the audacity to show up at her funeral. He has no respect for anyone! He tried to take me that day. He sat beside me—a nine-year-old at my own mother’s funeral—and tried to manipulate me into thinking he was some nice guy who I—”

  “Your mother wanted you to go with him!” Jack shouted the words to get my attention.

  It worked. I fell silent, confused and knocked off balance. “What are you talking about?”

  “After your mother left your father, she was the one who went to Russo. She asked your uncle for help.”

  My uncle. How could he be my uncle? He had killed my mother. Or had he? Jack said he hadn’t, and so had Renee. Did my mom really ask for his help, or was that just the story Russo had told?

  Jack kept talking. “Your mom wanted to leave, to be free of that life, but trying to run with two girls…”

  Impossible. It would have been impossible. I had barely managed it, and I only had myself to worry about.

  “She begged her brother to help her start gathering evidence so that t
hey could go to the FBI and put him away.”

  “Are those the lies he’s telling you?” I shot back. “How is he even here? It’s not like he’s a Texas local.”

  “When the FBI apprised him of the situation with Renee and your father, he made up a reason to come here.”

  “So he could watch my family fall apart?” I spat the bitter words.

  “So he could try to protect Renee.”

  There was a part of me, a fairly big part, that wanted to believe him, that wanted to latch on to the possibility of having someone on my side. I shook my head, trying not to let that desire overpower my rationale.

  “Think about it, Leila,” Jack begged. “What possible reason could Russo have for killing his own sister?”

  “Because—” I couldn’t think of an answer, but I knew I was right. Russo had been a threat to me and my family ever since my mother died.

  “I know that you have a lifetime’s worth of stories your father told you, a lifetime of fear that your father worked hard to instill in you, but Leila,” he entreated, his eyes pleading, his hand outstretched. “You know your father is a liar. You have to at least consider that he lied about this.”

  Tipping my head back, I searched the blue sky for answers, blinking back the tears. Could he be right? Was it possible that I had spent years—years—fearing someone who never meant me any harm?

  I bent over, shutting my eyes and breathing in and out as I tried to calm my mind and my racing heart.

  Of course it was possible. In fact, the idea that my father had lied to me about this should not even come as a shock. But it was. Russo was the one person I had feared more than any other for more than ten years. If he had really been helping my mother, if he hadn’t been responsible for her death…

  There were so many questions I needed answers for.

  I straightened up, finally able to look at Jack with a steady gaze. “If he didn’t kill my mother, then who did? What really happened to her?”