Theirs to Protect (Mafia Menage Trilogy 3)

“I sent the two of you away,” he continued. “He followed you, and I cut him off a few blocks down. He said they want to kill us, Joseph. He said…” Marco gnashed his teeth on a low growl, an enraged predator intent on protecting his pack. “He said ‘Maybe I’ll take a turn with your pretty slut once we’ve buried you and Russo.’ He knew our names. He called us ‘fags.’ He knows who we are, Joseph. And he will hurt her to get to us. I can’t…” He closed his eyes, his throat working, choking on words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

Finally, he whispered, “I stabbed him. He pulled a knife, and I stabbed him.”

I couldn’t suppress my sharp intake of breath, and Marco flinched. “Alive?” I asked, not daring to elaborate in case I said something that might hurt my friend even more.

“Yes,” he bit out. “I used his phone to call 911. Don’t worry,” he added, his voice hollow. “I know how to clean up after myself.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder, squeezing in solidarity. “I’m sorry you had to face that on your own. I wish I’d been there to help.”

His jaw ticked, and he shook his head sharply to the side. “You needed to guard Ashlyn. It’s not just this one guy,” he ground out. “He said we. There are people that want us dead, Joseph. And Ashlyn…” His mouth twisted in a snarl. “They know about her. They’re stalking her to get to us.”

Rage burned through my veins, and my protective fury surged to match Marco’s. “But who are they? No one has a reason to target us. My dad made it clear that we’re exiled and hated. If these guys are trying some sort of power play, killing us doesn’t make any sense.”

Marco grimaced and folded his arms over his chest. His bulky muscles swelled and flexed, but there was something defensive about his intimidating posture. “I don’t know why anyone would target us. I called Leo for answers. He wasn’t interested in sharing information.” Each cold word dropped from his lips like a block of ice.

My heart squeezed. Marco must’ve been desperate if he’d chosen to call his father instead of talking to me about the threat. He must’ve been terrified that I would abandon him as soon as I found out that things might get violent.

Fuck. I didn’t realize that Marco was still so wounded by what I’d done. It’d been shitty of me to run away from New York. I’d killed a man, and I hadn’t been able to handle the horror of taking another life. In my blind panic and revulsion, I’d left my best friend behind. There would never be words that could express the enormity of my regret over the pain I’d caused him.

But maybe I should’ve tried harder. Instead, I’d been a coward and allowed the subject to be buried once we both became obsessed with Ashlyn.

“I’m sorry.” The apology caught in my throat.

Marco shrugged his tense shoulders. “It’s not your fault that my dad is an asshole.”

“I’m sorry I left you,” I clarified. “I’m sorry I ran away to Cambridge and didn’t take you with me. I wasn’t thinking straight, but that’s no excuse for what I did. I will never leave you again, Marco. If I need to hurt someone to protect Ashlyn—to protect you—I’ll do it without a second’s hesitation. I won’t shed blood for a criminal syndicate, but I’ll fight like hell for my family. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep both of you safe.”

A long, tense moment of silence passed before Marco offered a stiff nod. Something crumbled in the center of my chest. He believed me, but the pain of my abandonment hadn’t been erased. Maybe it never would be.

“Leo didn’t tell me anything that might help us identify the threat,” he continued on, as though I hadn’t poured out my guilt and cut both of us deeper than any knife could manage. “Do you think your father would talk to you? He might know something about what’s going on with the mafia in Boston.”

“Yeah, he’ll talk to me.” I finally stepped back, giving us both space to breathe. I’d left my phone in the bedroom, and I’d have to risk disturbing Ashlyn to retrieve it. “I’ll call him tomorrow morning, while Ashlyn is busy with her lectures. I don’t want her anywhere near this. You know how empathetic she is. She’ll sense that something’s wrong if we’re tense and worried.” I clapped him on the shoulder, trying to coax him out of his dark mood. “Maybe now would be a good time to wake Ashlyn up and dig into those waffles. She’ll love having dessert for dinner. I think she’s more than earned her sweet treat.”