Marco: Lucian & Lia: Book 8

by Sydney Landon

  “So what’s the next move? Do we talk to Langdon and see what he knows or maybe check it out ourselves before the police become involved?”

  I untangle her from my arms and get to my feet. I have to put some distance between us, so I can return to the asshole she’s always accusing me of being. That guy can handle hurting her feelings. The man who only moments ago had his tongue in her mouth cannot. “We don’t have a move, Nina. You’re currently under our protection—that’s it. I can no more discuss family business with you than I can Langdon or my barber. It’s regrettable that you heard my conversation with Jake. It was an oversight on my part and not an attempt to include you in our operations.” Please don’t fucking cry. Her eyes are ablaze with anger—but her lips are trembling. I sound like an obnoxious prick, but I have to get my point across to her. I’m trying to save your life, Belle. The muscle in my cheek clenches as I await the explosion that never comes. Instead, she stands without uttering a word and walks away. Seconds later, I hear the bedroom door quietly close and then there’s nothing. Her silence is more effective than a hard kick to the balls. And no doubt she knows that too. But what is she thinking? No, Moretti, don’t go there.

  How could there possibly be any happy marriages in our world? I’m not naïve. There must be some pillow talk going on. The Moretti women are not clueless. They knew what they were signing on for before they took their vows. There’s also some who would enjoy looking like a big shot by bragging to their significant other. And there are undoubtedly wives who get tired of being kept in the dark and begin asking questions and snooping around. It’s understandable on both accounts. It’s against human nature to bind yourself to someone, yet keep a big chunk of your life from him or her. Sex and/or relationships are seldom simple. And it’s doubly complicated for me. Fuck, if I mess up and talk in my sleep with the wrong person around, things could get ugly in a hurry. I wish I were a normal man who could follow Nina with my tail tucked between my legs and beg for forgiveness, but that’s not going to happen. Instead, I shoot Jake a text and fix myself a cup of coffee while I wait for him. It’s gonna be a long night, and it has little to do with Sophie’s family and everything to do with the woman down the hall. For a moment, she was mine, and she tasted every bit as sweet as I expected.

  But now I know she’ll never be mine.

  Fuck.

  Nina

  I flop onto Marco’s big king-sized bed, feeling pathetically sorry for myself. I’m reeling from his words to me. It wasn’t so much what he said, but the cold way he delivered the smackdown. I’m not sure why it was such a surprise, all things considered, but I hadn’t expected it after what had happened between us. Which was a damn joke. The man fucked everything that moved. He was quite experienced at keeping his personal and professional life separated. His bimbos probably don’t think unless he allows it. Don’t knock them, sweetheart, you were on your way to joining their ranks. And that thought is more humiliating than anything. The first moment we’re alone, and I toss my morals right out the window to hump his lap like a bitch in heat. How am I any better than the blonde that so impressed Langdon? Another chick whose panties magically fell away when Marco Moretti turned on the charm. Maybe this is what happens when you write romance novels for a living. Eventually, you look for hot make-out sessions and believe it means something. But it’s Marco, and I know there has been no pining for me on his end.

  I need to hash this out with Minka. She’ll remind me to stay clear of Marco. I lift my head and look around until I spot my purse a few feet away. I crawl over to it and dig my phone from the side pocket. I’m still surprised Marco hasn’t confiscated it yet. I don’t want to risk calling her and alerting Nic. I can only hope he hasn’t already taken hers. I send her a text in our own unique code and anxiously await a reply. Where is she? I yawn and wearily put the phone on vibrate and then lay it against my chest, so I’ll know when she responds.

  In the meantime, my thoughts drift over the events of the day, and I feel a pang in my heart. Franklin is dead. I still can’t quite believe it. He’s always been larger than life to me. Invincible. He was no longer a young man, but still—how could he have let someone kill him? There’s something so human about that. Not sure what I was expecting, but he was mafia. I would have been less surprised by a car bomb, the kind that blew Marco’s car to pieces. Now that was the type of mob stuff you see on television. I know it’s wrong of me, but if Franklin had to die, then I’m absurdly glad that Frankie Jr. went out with him. My future would be scary indeed if he were alive and unchecked by his father. Although Franklin could be somewhat blind to his son’s many faults, he wasn’t stupid, by any means. And Frankie was careful about crossing big lines that he knew his father would disapprove of, which afforded me a small amount of protection. Well, that and the fact that Minka scared the hell out of him. She’d always known he was a snake, and it hadn’t taken her long to understand that he couldn’t be trusted where I was concerned. She’s always brushed aside my gratitude, but we both know that our friendship has had many far-reaching implications and that may well be the most important one.

  I like to think that my mom sent Minka to me to make up in some small way for leaving me behind. I realize it’s childish and utterly pointless to blame someone for dying—it wasn’t as if cancer was optional—but she postponed going to the doctor until it was too late. If only she’d gone earlier, then maybe she’d still be alive. She admitted toward the end that there had been a sense of foreboding. She’d known that the stomach pain she was feeling was more than one of the simple ulcers she’d had before. But she wanted to believe that if she ignored it, then it would go away. So that’s what she did.

  And to make matters worse, she assured Franklin she had seen a doctor, and it was nothing. The only one not blindsided by the news that she had stage 4 pancreatic cancer was her. It’s one of the few times I can remember her arguing with Franklin. He’d been so angry, accusing her of recklessly throwing not only her life away, but his and mine as well. Of course, the next day, he hired the best doctors available. But as so many have learned, money can do many things, but it cannot buy you a cure when none exists. She squandered all her options by disregarding the warning signs. By being afraid.

  I sometimes wonder if she did it on purpose. I do believe Franklin made her happy in a way and that she loved him, but a part of her never got over my father, her high school sweetheart and the love of her life. He was killed in a hunting accident, mistaken for a deer. According to her, he never knew she was pregnant. And unfortunately, she’d been raised by a single mother who had no desire to raise another child and certainly didn’t want to be a grandmother. So after she had me, she relied on help from the state until she could find a job and a place to live. I hadn’t been old enough then to understand how tough things must have been for her, but she never once made me feel as if I was a burden. Our apartment was small, but we always had what we needed. As I got older, I knew other kids dressed better than I did, and their parents had nicer cars, but I never cared. Thanks to the very kind man who owned the restaurant where she was a waitress, she was able to work a flexible schedule that allowed her to attend all my school functions and field trips. People seemed to gravitate to her since she was not only pretty but outgoing as well. I’d been so proud to have her as my mom. And my biggest supporter. Which also meant I missed her so very much.

  Then Franklin Gavino walked into the restaurant, and it felt as if our lives changed overnight. He lavished her with nice things she’d never been able to afford, but more importantly, he gave her his time and attention. He made her feel as if she mattered, which was something she hadn’t felt in a long time—if ever. I was ten when they were married in a small service at Franklin’s home. My surname was changed along with my mother’s to Gavino. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal to me at the time. Heck, other than being jealous of sharing my mom, I was excited over our new adventure, as she liked to call it. But like every fairy tale, there had to be an evil tur
d—and that was where Frankie Jr. came in. He played the part of adoring brother when our parents were around, but when we were alone, he scared the hell out of me. Since he was bigger, he liked to bully me, then called me clumsy as if I tripped on my own rather than him pushing me. If that had been his only sin, I could have lived with it. But something in the way he looked at me set alarm bells off—loudly. Thank God, he’s gone.

  I don’t know if he witnessed something I wasn’t aware of, but Franklin appeared to be of a similar mind where his son was concerned, and he tried to ensure we weren’t left alone in the house. Sadly, he’d been more observant than my own mother, who brushed aside all negative comments I made about Frankie. I think she was terrified of accepting it as the truth because it would mean her perfect new life wasn’t all that it seemed. And worse yet, she would have to take action. I know my mother loved me dearly, so I can only conclude that things must have been much harder for her than I realized before Franklin came along. That’s the only reason that makes any sense to me. I need to believe that desperately.

  That’s why Minka had been such a hero to me. We met at a family gathering, and she took me under her wing as if we’d always been friends. Unlike some of the others, she hadn’t acted as if I didn’t belong because I wasn’t Gavino by blood. Hell, she mentioned more than once how envious she was of that very fact. She knew I had more freedom that she ever would. Her name made her a prisoner whereas, for me, it was more like loose shackles. Kind of like when celebrities receive a key to their home cities or an honorary degree from a university. It was simply for show and little else. In our case, it was Franklin’s attempt to make us into a normal family—something I had to commend him for. Even as I cursed him for putting me in the position I now found myself in. That was primarily how I viewed my relationship with my stepfather. Mostly a curse, but with a few sweet moments thrown in for variety. At least he tried. Oh, how I hated that voice in my head at times. The nasty bitch never failed to point out my shortcomings. I have no idea why, but it certainly liked Franklin better than me. And Marco too, for that matter.

  Traitor.

  And now I have no family left… and can admit I feel very alone.

  Exhausted both mentally and physically, I snuggle into the soft comfort of Marco’s bed and try not to think of all the germs probably crawling atop his 5000 thread count sheets. If I remain on top of the comforter, I should be fine. It’s absurd, but I roll my eyes at myself and push everything else away. The necessity of staying here. The car bomb. Langdon and his family. Marco—especially—and my stupid lusting for a man as deep as a paper cut. No, it was time to tune out, take a nap, and hope that Minka has an answer. She always does. God help us both if the day comes when she draws a blank.

  5

  Marco

  “Considering she hasn’t spoken to me directly for a week, I’d say chances are strong she’s still pissed off,” I mutter in disgust. After my not-so-wonderful handling of her desire to help with the Langdon situation, I’d become public enemy number one. Fuck no. That would be a step up. I’m now the invisible man where she’s concerned. I was happy to leave her at my place with a couple of men while I met Nic and Jake at the office. With no new leads on who killed the kid’s family, I had Jake pull the security footage for my apartment on the outside chance someone followed either Langdon or Sophie when they’d been there. That kind of murder is rarely ever random. We just have to find the link.

  I’m tempted to pull my gun on Nic when he chuckles at my predicament with Nina. “Still striking out even though you have the home-field advantage. Bro, that’s just embarrassing. I figured you two would have given in to temptation long ago.”

  The image of Nina sitting on my lap while I sucked her tits floats through my head, and I begin recounting baseball statistics under my breath to keep my body from responding. I fucked up royally. No one to blame but myself. “She hasn’t addressed me directly since I fucked up. If Jake’s there, she says something like, ‘Jake, tell Mr. Moretti that he is out of Coke,’ or she leaves me a note.” I pull a piece of paper from my pocket and hand it to him. He unfolds it, and his eyes scan the page before he bursts into laughter.

  “Damn,” he gasps out. “I hope you took that shit seriously. Plus, it’s gotta be some comfort that you wouldn’t be seeing any action right now regardless.”

  “What’s it say?” Jake asks as he attempts to look over Nic’s shoulder. “Mr. Moretti, unless you want your no doubt outrageously expensive brothel bed ruined, I advise you to pick up a box of heavy flow tampons ASAP. Doesn’t really matter much to me either way. Ms. Nina Gavino.” Jake and Nic sag against the wall, not even trying to contain their amusement. Surely, my father would understand if I shot one of them. He’d never put up with this.

  “Laugh it up, ladies,” I say in a voice so quiet and calm, they’re immediately on alert. They’ve been around me long enough to know when to be wary. “I’m glad you two can find such humor in my problems when we have so many bigger things to focus on. But if you feel that this is a priority, then take all the time you need.” Looking the picture of tolerance, I sit down in a nearby chair and cross my legs, whistling casually. Keep a straight face. This is too good to ruin now.

  Nic gives me a skeptical stare before shaking his head. “Dude, I think Jake may have shit his pants. For fuck’s sake, tell him you’re kidding.” My other cousin is a bit pale, and considering I need him right now, it’s best to put him out of his misery.

  I roll my eyes in his direction. “Stop being such a pussy. If you have an accident in here, I’ll make sure everyone sees it. Including Tony and Lee.”

  He’s already shaking his head frantically. “Don’t you dare tell them such bullshit. What in the hell is wrong with all of you?” he grumbles under his breath as he turns back to the video monitor. “If you don’t eat your young and knock your woman around, you’re a pussy. Something fucked about that.”

  “Hey, hey.” Nic chuckles as he slaps the other man on the back of the head. “You have us confused with the Gavinos. You know the big man made that rule about laying hands on a chick. Said he’d let his wife personally deliver the punishment if he found out anyone broke the rule. And no one wants Mama Moretti on them.” He shudders. “There are no written laws about munching on your kids, but I don’t think that’s ever come up before. You’re into some weird shit, dude. But I still love you.”

  It’s damn near impossible to be in the same room with these two and not be amused at the insane conversations they have. To an outsider, they’d be deemed certifiable. Might not be too far off. But there’s no one else I’d rather work with than them.

  Then how could you betray their trust?

  The sick feeling is back in the pit of my stomach. Feels like I’ve swallowed broken glass and washed it down with battery acid. Please let them never know I was involved. I realize my mood is somber in part because of the rift with Nina, but toss in the fact there’s a kid down the hall still reeling from finding his mother and sister murdered, and it makes me wonder how bad things would have to get for us to go through a day without joking around. I know one thing that would do it. “Fuck you, asshole,” Jake mutters before glancing over at me warily. “How far back you want to go again, boss? I got like thirty days of footage here, but that’s gonna take a while to go through.”

  I pull out my phone and bring up my calendar. “Sophie would have been there on Monday. So let’s cover our bases and start on Sunday. See if anyone was casing the area before that.”

  Jake’s fingers fly over the keyboard, and within moments, he has the six screens in front of him showing various angles of my apartment. We see nothing of interest on the first day, but on the second, we see Sophie enter the hallway to my floor, then open the door and go inside. An hour later, she’s back on the camera carrying trash to the disposal shoot on the next hallway, and that’s when we see Langdon skulking in from the other side and entering my place. Obviously, his mother hadn’t locked the door behind her
because he doesn’t pause long. Jake snorts in amusement, seeming almost proud of his new charge. Nic jots down a couple of tag numbers from vehicles we spot more than once, but I figure most live in the area. I’m returning a text to my father when Nic punches me in the arm hard enough to push my chair to the side a few inches. What the…?

  “You fucked the dry cleaner’s daughter?” he asks incredulously. “I’ve asked her out a dozen times and gotten nowhere. Hell, she doesn’t even speak English.” She does speak English, but that’s beside the point here. Fuck, how I wish I could turn back time. I have no clue why, since discussing past conquests is nothing new—but I feel like a pig. No, wait. Hadn’t Nina referred to me as a junkyard dog in one of her notes? Made me long for the more formal Mr. Moretti greeting she mostly used. Granted, I generally refrain from broadcasting my intimate encounters all over the office. Fuck, there hadn’t been any to broadcast recently, until that lapse in judgment. But it’s not unusual for Nic to comment on someone I’ve been with.

  “Her grasp of our language isn’t the best,” I acknowledge. “And she asked me out for a drink.”