suicide marks. To say he’d brought this on himself, and to remove any honor from his death.
Everyone in the room stood or sat where they were and watched Ettore Cuccia bleed out.
Alex looked down and saw the gun still in his hand.
He’d killed a man tonight. Made his bones.
That was good; he’d wanted to be made, and now he would be, certainly. Why else would Nick have brought a nobody like him in tonight, allowed him to sit at this table, witness the making of this mess? Not witness—participate. He’d killed a man tonight. In cold—cold-ish—blood.
Now he would be a Pagano man.
It was what he wanted. Right?
~oOo~
Lia answered the door with a smile, but it faded out once she got a look at him. “Hey. Are you okay?”
He hadn’t called first, and he’d told her he’d be busy tonight, so she wasn’t expecting him. She was dressed for a night in, her auburn hair up in a messy ponytail, no makeup, a saggy t-shirt—one of his—and black leggings. God, she was beautiful, and seeing that worried little frown on her face, worried for him, he thought his heart would break with love for her.
It was almost ten o’clock at night and her whole family, excepting her father, was home, no doubt. He needed to be alone with Lia. Just her. “Can you go out with me?”
“Right now?” She glanced back over her shoulder, into the house, and turned to him again. “Alex, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t know. Nothing. Everything. He’d stood in a fancy conference room on carpet so thick it was like walking on a giant sponge, and watched the blood of three men sink into it. He’d killed one of those men.
He was a killer. A murderer.
That was who he was now. A murderer.
Ettore Cuccia had deserved to die. Had the men at his side deserved it as well? Or had they merely been in Nick’s way?
The girl he loved was the daughter of the man he’d killed for, but he couldn’t—could not—tell her what he’d done tonight. Not ever. “Please, Lia.”
“Okay, okay.” She stepped back, and he came into her house. “Give me a few minutes to get presentable.”
She began to turn toward the stairs, but he grabbed her arm. He absolutely could not make small talk with her family right now. “Don’t. Just … can we just go? Please?”
Her frown deepened, and she came back to him, setting her hands on his chest. Fuck, he wanted to grab her and tuck her into himself and run the fuck away.
“Alex, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just need you.”
She put a hand on his cheek, and just that touch was so soothing, so necessary, Alex half thought he’d cry. Instead he tipped his head to rest on her palm. “Please, Lee.”
“Okay. Let me get boots on and my coat. Wait here.”
He kissed her palm and let her go. She hurried down the hall, said, “Mamma, I’m going out with Alex for a bit.”
From the kitchen, or maybe the family room, Alex heard her mother’s assent.
Lia stopped at the coat closet, pulled on her pink rubber boots she called ‘Wellies,’ though there wasn’t any snow on the ground and the weather was clear. She pulled her yellow wool coat with the weird oblong buttons from a hanger and slipped into it as she came back to him. “Ready,” she said, pulling her ponytail out from under the coat with a flip.
Something about that move always turned him on. Even now, it did, and Alex understood what he needed, and where he wanted to take her.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the don’s house.
~oOo~
The motel was downshore from Quiet Cove, close enough that the drive was short but far enough that they could be sure no one would recognize Lia as Nick Pagano’s daughter. It was a little place, with a single, two-story run of rooms. The walkways faced the ocean—the direction of the ocean, rather. It was a couple blocks off the beach, so the view was mostly imaginary, but the sounds of the sea reached this far.
This was a motel for people on a budget. Lia deserved better, but Alex was on a budget.
A little diner shared the lot. It was open, and its bright lights showed that it was nearly empty, but Alex had no appetite. Not for food, at least.
He needed to get naked with Lia, get her whole body against his whole body and just fucking forget who he was for a while.