Never Gonna Tell Page 11

  I pause in the doorway and meet his eyes. “Why, Marco?”

  I don’t need to expound my question. His face softens, and regret fills his eyes. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and swipes across the screen, irritated at whatever he sees. “We’ll talk after you come back from the outhouse. I promise.”

  “No, Marco, we’ll talk now.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean back against the doorframe.

  He sighs, leaning back against the opposite wall. “I had to, Reagan. There was no way around it. I had to.”

  “Your uncle made you do this? What, he’s planning on coming up here and you’re all going to kill me? Kill me like he did Hunter’s dad? Bury my body here in the woods?”

  “No, Reagan, nothing like that. I promise, I mean you no harm.”

  I scoff. “You kidnapped me. Kidnapped! How can you stand there and say you don’t mean me any harm? You harmed me just by bringing me here! Look at my wrists.” I hold them out for him to see how red and bruised they are.

  He winces. “I’m so sorry for that. If there was another way, trust me, I would have taken it.” He looks up at the night sky and brushes his hair back out of his eyes. For a long time he doesn’t look at me or say a word, he just continues to stare at the stars.

  There’s something about his posture that twists my gut with fear. I have a really bad feeling about what he’s going to say, and panic swells in my throat.

  “They found out, Reagan. They found out that you were there and were going to kill you to make sure you couldn’t testify.”

  MY MIND REELS. I sink back against the wall and put my head in my hands as his words and the reality of them sink in. I’m quiet for several long minutes before I say, “So that’s why you took me. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Yes.”

  I look up at Marco and swallow down the lump in my throat. I will not cry. I will not cry. “Thanks for at least telling me the truth.”

  Marco nods and looks at me like there is more he wants to say, but doesn’t. He sighs and stares down at his now-dusty black boots.

  “Reag—”

  “Mar—”

  “Sorry,” he says. “Go ahead.”

  “It’s just…” I stare at Marco as we stand there facing each other, knowing that I may have only hours or minutes to live. Our eyes lock while I try to find my words. My last words. What am I supposed to feel, knowing this is the end? Shouldn’t my life be flashing in front of my eyes? I know I should be sad and scared, and I am to a degree, but feeling that way will make this too real. And I’m not ready for that. I’m too numb for that right now.

  Marco betrayed me. He may not be pulling the trigger himself, but he chose loyalty to his family over my life. It’s my own fault for placing my trust in him to begin with. I smile as a twisted thought enters my head. He used me, so I might as well use him too. At least if I’m going to go out, I can go with a smile on my face. And who knows, maybe if I seduce him he’ll lose focus and I can escape. He folds his arms across his chest, and my eyes are drawn there. I wonder if quarters really could bounce off those abs. I bet they would. It really is a shame that such a bad soul lives inside such beautiful wrappings.

  “Screw it, I’m going out with a bang.”

  I take two determined steps forward coming face-to-face with Marco, pushing my body against him. He barely gets out “Wha—” before my lips are locked with his. He’s frozen, but it only takes him a second to get with the program and wrap his arms around me, threading his fingers through the hair at the back of my neck and pulling, tilting my face up.

  With the touch of our lips, all of the pent-up sexual frustration that we’ve been dancing around for the last few weeks explodes, engulfing us in a dust storm of lust and desire. Logic, reason, and rational thought can’t see their way through the thick haze of my hunger for him.

  I kiss him with vigor, my tongue sliding into his mouth while my hands grip the base of his corded neck. His lips are soft but powerful as he takes control of our embrace, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth before nipping it. His kisses taste better than I imagined, with a hint of cherry soda lingering on his tongue. His hot breath is now ragged as his tongue dips in and out of my mouth, entwining with my own.

  Sliding his hands out of my hair, he runs them down to my waist and circles my hips before he lifts me up, our lips never separating. I wrap my legs around him as he spins us around, my center grinding up and down slightly, causing him to groan. My back scrapes the wall, bruising the skin, but I don’t even register the pain. Nothing could bring me down from this high. Would this be considered Stockholm Syndrome?

  Warm, calloused hands lift the hem of my shirt slightly and slide up my back. Oh my God, he is such a good kisser. I let go of his neck and lift my hands above my head allowing Marco to pull my tee shirt off. My bra quickly follows. He pauses briefly, just staring at my bare breasts. My nipples harden under his gaze and I so desperately want him to take them into his hot mouth. His lips finally return to my scorching skin, trailing across my jaw and continuing their path down my neck, leaving small goosebumps everywhere he licks and sucks.

  His tongue traces the slope of my collarbone and I moan with pleasure. Sweet Jesus, I think. I wonder what else his tongue is good at… My fingers scrape down his back as I reach the hem of his shirt to pull it off. I want to be skin to skin, feel the warmth of his body against me.

  Marco notices my efforts and leans back, regretfully taking his luscious lips away from me as he pulls his shirt off in one quick motion before diving head-first back into my breasts. My fingers run through his hair as I savor the touch of his lips. Now this is dying happy.

  His eager mouth circles my nipple and sucks in the hardened tip, nipping slightly. The pain barely registers as pleasure radiates throughout my whole body. I can do nothing but hold on as his glorious mouth flicks, pulls, and sucks. I’m practically panting as I gyrate against him, wanting to couple one pleasure point with another.

  Marco is already hard, and he groans as I continue to grind my hips against him. He cups his hands on my ass and walks us across the room to the bed, tossing me down so I bounce as we hit the mattress. His pupils dilate, and he licks his lips in anticipation.

  Staring up at him, I totally get why girls go for a bad boy now. They’re dark, dangerous, and don’t give a damn about niceties or “taking it slow.” It’s the bad boys that make you feel like your every emotion is out there, ripe for the taking, and you can barely breathe as they pluck the taut strings of each and every one, leaving you to pray they don’t snap one of the thin threads. It’s powerful and scary. It’s living on the edge. And I love it.

  “What’s that?” Marco asks as he begins to climb into the bed.

  “Huh?”

  He pauses over top of me, the muscles in his arms bulging as he balances his weight. “You were mumbling under your breath. Something about bad boys.”

  Crap. Had I said that out loud? “Um, nothing.” I wave my hands like I’m guiding an airplane into the terminal. “Just keep going. I want to spend as much time as possible doing this before your uncle gets here.”

  He had started back toward me, but reverses course at my words. “What are you talking about? My uncle’s not coming here.”

  “Oh, I’d just assumed. Your dad then?” Why is he still talking? We should be kissing.

  “Reagan, no one knows where we are. That’s the whole point of taking you up here.”

  I sit up in the bed and fold my arms over my naked breasts, suddenly self-conscious. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I grab the blanket at the end of the bed and pull it up to my chin. Somehow, wires have been crossed, and I needed to straighten them out before I go any further. “Marco, you brought me up here because your family found out that I witnessed the murder, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And now that they know, they’re going to whack me.”

&nbs
p; Marco rolls his eyes. “No one calls it that in real life, Reagan.”

  I huff. “Whatever. Kill me, silence me, ‘off me,’ ‘take care of me’—whatever you want to call it. They’re going to end my life and bury me in these woods, right?”

  Marco stands up, looking stunned. “Is that what you think? Then why the hell would you be making out with me right now? About to have sex with me?”

  His phone buzzes again in his pocket, and he pulls it out, staring at the screen.

  I scrunch my nose. “Um, because I wanted to use you as much as you used me. And because I didn’t want to die with any regrets. I realize it’s sick and twisted with you being an accomplice to my murder and all, but…” I look down, picking at a string as I admit this last part. “Not kissing you would be a huge regret, Marco.”

  He shoves his phone back in his pocket, taking a few steps away and turns his back to me. His back muscles are rigid and his fists clenched. He’s angry, and I have no idea why. He punches the wall, leaving a hole in the drywall.

  “Goddammit!”

  I scramble off the bed and across the room to where my shirt had been abandoned by the couch, quickly tossing it over my head. I rack my brain to figure out what I had done or said to set him off.

  His phone buzzes a third time. He grips it so tightly his knuckles turn white. His whole body is tense and rigid. “Don’t move. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t do anything.”

  He stomps toward the front door, throwing on his shirt before grabbing his jacket and swinging the door wide.

  “Where … where are you going?”

  He shoves his phone in his pocket as it buzzes a fourth time. He mutters a long string of profanity, his tone seething and his nostrils flaring. Whoever is calling is pissing him off and I can’t tell who he’s angrier with—them or me.

  I haphazardly shove most of my bra in my pocket just as I hear the front door slam. I flinch at the noise and sit on my knees, waiting for whatever is going to happen next. All hope of asking Marco vanishes along with him when I hear the car engine revving and tires spinning, tossing up gravel that pings off the roof as he drives away.

  MARCO DOESN’T COME back. I use the outhouse and survive, and then wait for hours alone in the dark. I explore the cabin and find no phone or other way to communicate with anyone. The only thing I can find is a duck call, and I highly doubt the bearded boys of that dynasty are around to come to my aid.

  For every hour that passes, my nerves become more frazzled. It’s pitch black outside and deadly silent. My mind betrays me, thinking of every horror movie I’ve seen about a girl alone in the woods. And it never ends well for the girl.

  I’m a sitting duck in this cabin if the Calottas are on their way, so facing my fears I take the abandoned flashlight and walk the perimeter of the cabin, braving the dark as I search for help unsuccessfully. There are no neighboring cabins, no lights in the distance, nothing.

  I walk the dirt road we drove in on for at least two miles. At this altitude, the temperature drops very quickly. My fingers are frozen and can barely grip the flashlight. I pause, leaning against a tree as I weigh my options. Keep going and risk hypothermia? Go back to the cabin and risk the Calottas being there? Marco said to wait. Should I believe him? Trust him?

  I need to turn back. At least the cabin is warm, and the old bed is now very appealing to my tired legs. I can start back at dawn—if I’m not dead by then.

  When I arrive back at the cabin, there’s still no sign of Marco or his family, so I throw every blanket I can find on the bed and snuggle in, sighing in relief as I begin to thaw. After several hours, I finally resign myself to the fact that he’s not coming back. I toss and turn before falling into a restless sleep.

  At dawn, I awaken to find Marco’s eyes trained on me. He’s sitting in the chair, just watching me sleep.

  I bolt up, scanning the room.

  “It’s just me. We’re alone. Did I wake you?”

  I rub the sleep out of my eyes and sit up. I’m relieved that I’m no longer alone but wary about why Marco is back. “When did you get back? I waited for hours. I—”

  “I’m sorry, Reagan,” he interrupts. “There were … I had to deal with some things. It took longer than I expected.”

  I’m fully awake now, anger replacing sleepiness. “Are you freaking kidding me? You left me alone in the woods with absolutely no way to contact anyone all night. What if I’d been attacked by a bear or something? My parents are probably worried out of their minds, and Charlie. Oh my god, if Charlie shows up and tells them that I’ve been acting strange all week, they’re going to call the cops for sure and put out an Amber alert. This is going to be so bad.”

  “Calm down, Reagan.”

  I toss the covers back and stand up. “I will not calm down. Do you have any idea how scared I was last night on my own? Having no clue where I am and no idea how to get in touch with you?”

  I want to hug him for coming back and slap him silly for leaving in the first place.

  Marco stands up from the chair and walks to the counter where two hot, steaming cups of coffee sit. He hands me one. “I’m sorry.”

  I give him the stink eye as I take a sip. “I’m still pissed.”

  “I brought doughnuts, too.” He smiles sheepishly and opens the box sitting on the stove.

  “Still pissed. But less pissed. There had better be a Boston Cream.”

  “I texted your parents last night from your phone. No Amber alerts have been issued. They think you’re staying at Riley Bennett’s house because you were working on an AP History project until really late.”

  I choke on the doughnut. “You did what? And with Riley of all people?”

  He shrugs. “I thought you’d like the irony.” He swipes a jelly and eats it in three bites. “Now let’s sit down so we can talk.”

  I grab a second doughnut and follow him to the living room. “What the hell happened last night?”

  “That’s what we need to discuss. I thought about it most of the night, actually. I think I might have an idea of where our lines got crossed.”

  That makes one of us. “Well by all means, do tell.”

  He sits his coffee down and scoots closer to me. “Reagan, I did not bring you up here to kill you.”

  Tears well in my eyes as relief floods through me.

  “I didn’t bring you up here to hold you hostage or bring you to my uncle or anything like that. I brought you up here to hide you from them. To protect you from them.” He pauses to hand me a tissue. I take it and dab my eyes before throwing my arms around him, squeezing tight.

  After several long seconds, I sit up and let him continue.

  “The librarian identified a witness and had the police do a sketch. It didn’t look much like you, but after my uncle saw me talking to you when he came to pick me up, he put two and two together and they figured out who you were. Nicky was going to try to buy your silence, and if that didn’t work, threaten you into keeping quiet. I knew you’d never go for it, and they’d end up hurting you or worse. I overheard my uncle and dad talking and rushed over to get you before that could happen.”

  “Are my parents okay? Did your uncle threaten them?”

  Marco shakes his head. “They never made it over there. I told them that I saw you with a group of friends in town, followed you, and overheard that you were spending the night at a friend’s house. They’re waiting until you get back to confront you.”

  I am dumbfounded. “They’re going to know you lied to them.”

  Marco takes my hands into one of his own. “I know.”

  “But ... why? Why would you want to protect me? I can put them in jail if I testify. You can go to jail.” I squeeze him tighter.

  “I’m already living in a prison. Hell, jail might be a welcome relief at this point.”

  My eyebrows furrow. “I don’t understand.”

  Marco sighs, setting down his coffee, and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. “When I was ten, my mom left us.
She ran off with some guy never to be heard from again. Then a year later, my dad lost his construction supervisor job. It was my Uncle Nicky who kept us from losing the house, losing everything. My dad felt obligated to repay him by doing whatever Nicky told him to do.

  “Anyway, my oldest cousin, my Uncle Nicky’s son, hated his dad and wanted out. Out of the family, out of the lifestyle, out of it all. At the time, my uncle was only a bookie who occasionally broke a few bones and at worst, put someone in the hospital for a few days with a concussion.

  “Antonio—Tony—went to the police and promised to testify in exchange for witness protection. Vice had been after Nicky for years but never had any proof ‘cause no one would snitch. Tony was their golden ticket.

  “The judge issued a gag order, and no one knew who was testifying until a few days before the trial was set to begin, when my uncle’s attorney got ahold of the prosecution’s witness list. My uncle went ape shit. I’ve never seen him so angry. He tore through everything in Tony’s room and broke every piece of furniture. When my aunt tried to calm him down, he gave her a black eye and pushed her down the stairs. No one could talk sense into him. To him, it was the ultimate betrayal.

  “Something changed in him. The little bit of good that was left in him was gone. It was extinguished and replaced with the need to become invincible. No one was going to take him down, least of all his son.”

  “Oh my God, Marco. What happened to him?”

  Marco sips his coffee and shakes his head slowly. “The trial never happened. Tony was found in the trunk of a car that had been set on fire. They had to use dental records to identify the body. The fire burned any forensic evidence, and no one was ever charged with the crime. But we knew. The police knew. Everyone knew. It was my Uncle Nicky. He killed his own son.”

  My hands fly to my mouth. I can see Marco trying to hold it together as he swallows down a lump. I scoot next to him, wanting to wrap my arms around him. Emotion swirls in his eyes, and I lean my head on his shoulder.