Page 67 of Issued

Blood freezes in my veins while my pulse ricochets in my ears, but I manage to lift my chin. “My husband will be home any second and then you’re fucking dead.”

Marco moves like a snake. One moment, he’s several feet away, and the next he’s grabbing my wrist as he stalks past me. His eyes become dark and hollow as he yanks me farther into the house. Pure disdain is etched into every one of his features. “Yeah, yeah. If poor Lyons couldn’t keep himself safe, what makes you think your SEAL will fare any better?”

My heart slams against my chest. No! Oh, God, not him. Please, not him. I swallow and straighten my shoulders. “What did you do?”

“Lyons got T-boned earlier this morning. He’ll survive, and hopefully he got the message to stay the fuck out of Santoro’s way.” Marco looks down at me, his pupils dilated. Shaking his head, Marco lowers his voice. “The lengths I have to go to in order to keep you two morons alive.”

His words push a button in my brain and release me from the fear that’s trapped me up to now. Rage laces through me and crawls up my spine like an uncontrolled forest fire, its heat burning my skin until all I can feel is the desire to hate. The acidity of the emotion waits to be spat out of my mouth in foul and vulgar words, but all I can do is screech out one question with every ounce of breath dwelling in my lungs. My eyes lock right on his, jaw clenching, and heart smacking against its bony cage with each thunderous beat. “Protect us? You betrayed us. Betrayed my father. Betrayed me!”

He lets go of my arm and I step closer, ready to beat the shit out of him, but he backhands me across the side of the head. The blow stuns me, sending me to the ground. I fight to breathe past the ringing in my ears. One side of my face feels numb and throbbing all at once, and when I pat my lip with shaking hands, I come away with blood.

Marco crouches before me. He looks confident, unruffled, and for the first time, I take stock of just how large he is. How imposing. Reaching out, he grabs me by the chin, holding me still while he cleans up the blood on my lip with the pad of his thumb. “If you don’t want any harm to come to that husband of yours you like to fuck raw, I suggest you get me that disc of information.”

The first spark of anger tries to ignite within me, but fear is poor kindling. His words sink in slowly. He’s been watching me? And how did he know about the DVD? My stomach heaves and bile sits heavy on my tongue. “You’ve known where I was this whole time?”

His nose wrinkles, brows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that. All I had to do was let Lyons believe Santoro got to you. Didn’t take long to figure it out, and not like you’d stay away from search and rescue for long.”

My breath seizes. Oh, God. That last search and rescue outing and my terrifying equipment failure. “You tampered with my rigging?”

“I barely clipped your rigging. Santoro didn’t think I’d be able to kill you if it came down to it. Figured I’d show him there was nothing to worry about.”

My bottom lip trembles, and I bite it, using the pain from the broken skin to steady me. “Why’d you kill my dad? You were family to us.”

His grip on my chin tightens until I whimper at his nails digging into my skin. “I didn’t kill your dad. The task force was closing in and Santoro wanted to use you to get your father to back off. I chose to save you and dropped the information you trusted me with to save your life.”

My mind, my heart, my everything goes very quiet and cold. “Why work for Santoro in the first place? The bakery was doing well.”

“Not well enough. I needed the money.” His tone is sardonic.

“Your father must be rolling in his grave.” This can’t be happening. I close my eyes and pray to wake up, but Marco strikes me across the cheek. The strength of the blow rocks me back.

Marco drags me to my feet, gripping my face. “Shut up. Do you know how much debt we had from the funeral after my father and sister were killed? My grandmother has cancer and I can’t afford to take care of her. And let’s not forget how the cops did nothing to catch the person. But you know who did find him? Santoro, and he killed the gunman, avenging my father and sister.”

My breath hitches, and I squeeze my eyes closed. “Marco, we would’ve helped you.”

“You don’t understand—can’t understand.” The words hiss out through his clenched teeth. “My grandmother’s not in this country legally. I had no choice.”

“You always have a choice.” My breathing picks up, harsh and painful in my chest, and the ceiling and floor threaten to switch position. “I considered you my brother! Now, you’re nothing more than a mere sliver of worthlessness. You’re nothing to me anymore.”

Marco snarls as he invades my space. “Good to know. Now get me that damn disc. Those pictures and audio files will never see the light of day.”

My eyes flick to the messenger bag sitting on the floor by the closet. While Jim promised not to go into my room, I couldn’t take any chances, so I kept the disc tucked away in my bag.

“You are so easy to read.” Marco snorts, then twists my arm behind my back and starts to lead us toward the bag.

Every fiber of my being screams at me to do something, anything, to keep him from taking that DVD. I need to stall until Jim gets here. And then what? Hope that Jim can overtake Marco? But what if he can’t? Marco has the element of surprise and for all I know, a gun.

No.

I need to get rid of Marco before my past has a chance to ruin Jim’s life too.

When my pace slows, Marco leans closer so his mouth is up against my ear. “Even if you think your husband can take me, it won’t matter. Santoro will just send someone else to finish the job. Plus, you wouldn’t want anything to happen to your friend, Marge’s, sweet little girl, would you? What is she? Four? If you play along, she might make it to five.”

Leslie.

“No.” I’m begging now, and there’s nothing I can do to stop. “Marco, don’t. Jim doesn’t know anything. I haven’t told him about what happened or why I really came here.”

“What happens to them isn’t up to me, T. It’s up to you.” His voice is cold.

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