Page 100 of Marcus

“Yeah, and look where it fucking got him.”

“You don’t even know what you’re fucking talking about, man.”

In her lap, Tiffany shifted in her sleep. Cella should wake her daughter up, and get her something to drink. She was sure her throat was probably still dry and aching. A lot like hers in that moment, although only partly caused by the smoke she’d inhaled. The rest of that pain was from all the tears she kept holding back.

She couldn’t cry.

Not now.

Not here.

Once she started, she was not going to stop.

As it was, she had barely held it together for this long. Dragged back through the memories of her husband’s murder while being terrified for her child today, and a man she fell in love with, allowing herself to be vulnerable to this very thing again … she couldn’t cry yet.

“We pulled the enforcer in,” Chris said, “because that’s what Marcus asked for us to do thinking it was him who gave the bikers the information about where to find him. Little late to apologize to the guy because his fucking brain matter is all over a cement floor in the west end’s warehouse, but it wasn’t even him. This wasn’t even meant to be an attack on Marcus, okay? So you don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, Bene, just shut up.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Seems the fucking farm notified everyone on their social media that the place would be closed down to the public for the day because they had a special guest coming in. Marcus probably wouldn’t even have known they did that. I bet the fucking bikers just thought it would be an easy hit—it might not even have been the Quebec chapter of the Riders that did it. It could have been any one of the chapters that rode in thinking they’d let the Guzzis know they were in town. Marcus being there was just circumstance.”

“Fuck,” Bene breathed. “Where’s Ma and Papa?”

“On their way. I called Corrado, too.”

Bene cleared his throat. “I sent Beni a message ‘cause he had some shit to do today, but I’ll call again.”

Cella heard it all, of course.

Her heart ached for a man who lost his life for reasons she didn’t even understand. Her soul hurt for the child in her lap who had cried herself to sleep.

And as for her?

Cella?

She still couldn’t fucking breathe.

Still couldn’t get those memories to leave.

A person connected to the mob knew how events like these went down once police became involved. Of course, the say nothing, saw nothing approach was always best and the only thing acceptable to la famiglia.

However, she found it disgusting how the second the police realized the maple farm and plant were attached to the Guzzi name, and the second victim of the fire who actually needed medical attention—Marcus—was identified as a Guzzi, their entire demeanor changed.

They were no longer victims.

They were just connected.

For a bit, Cella had the benefits of Marcus’s family deflecting the police attention on her and Tiffany—who had finally woken up from her nap—while they waited for the doctor to give the okay on Marcus, and allow visitors into his room.

She was pissed.

Terrified.

Mad like nothing else.

But God, she stayed there. Through her flashbacks, and the ache in her throat from a lump that formed and wouldn’t leave no matter how many times she tried to swallow it down. She stayed even though her heart raced so fast it felt like it was going to explode out of her chest. She didn’t move out of her chair even when all she wanted to do was hide away and cry because of the horrors this day dredged up for her.

She stayed.