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“He stole Marcosa safe houses?” Dominic asked.
“More like hidey-holes,” I corrected absently. I wanted to explain more, but my mind was racing.
Thankfully, Greyson took over. “Mario was beyond paranoid, always thinking someone was out to get him. Because of that, he didn’t give up his safe houses to anyone, but the crew still needed somewhere to hide in emergencies, so he created protected pockets all over the city. Places to bunk if there was trouble. They weren’t widely known, though. Only the very top of the Marcosa food chain would’ve known that many locations.”
“So, Cash wasn’t lying. He really was close to Mario.”
Or he stole more than product. There was only one other way he could’ve known about the safe houses.
“I don’t remember any mention of him in my father’s files.” The handwritten journals were hidden in the library of the mansion. Some were Antoni’s and mine, but most were my father’s. I tried to remember if I’d ever seen anything Cash- or Beckstrom-related, but I recalled nothing. Though, I’d only read the last ten years, certain that nothing else would be relevant.
What a foolish mistake.
What if the answer to our problems is in those fucking journals?
“You mentioned that he was around when you were a kid, right? How far back did you read?” Dominic asked, reading my mind.
“Not far enough.”
The idea that somewhere in my house was a potential land mine of knowledge I’d missed seared my stomach. The numbness I’d been swaddled in since the blast disappeared, and I was left with nothing but agonizing rage at Cash, at the bomb, at myself.
“It’s okay, Mari. We’ll read them when we get home.” Greyson’s attempt to soothe me didn’t work because it wasn’t okay. It would never be okay.
I’d made a mistake that could’ve cost Nate his life. Could’ve cost Greyson and Dominic theirs too.
I thought about Nate’s mom, who had no idea that her only son could’ve died today. The realization that I would’ve had to look that woman in the eyes and tell her I was the reason he was gone was too much.
Everything was too fucking much.
Rationally, I knew the shock was wearing off and I was headed straight into an epic breakdown, but I didn’t care.
For once, I wanted to be the emotional waif all the big men of the city thought I was. I wanted to rage and burn until I knew for certain that no one was coming after my family again.
I reached out, hoping the warmth of Nate’s hand would ground me, but even that only did so much. He was in that bed because of all this shit. The rage wanted revenge. It wanted retribution. It wanted an eye for an eye.
If the whole world went blind, then so be it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mari
Iwas giving Tennessee patrol instructions when it happened. “Split up the teams between the east and the west side. Try to keep them as far out of the other leaders’ territories as possible. I don’t want anyone to think?—”
“Angel.”
It was nothing more than a whisper, but I whirled around, phone call forgotten.
Holy shit. Nate was awake. Three hours after we’d arrived at the hospital, he’d finally woken up.
Suddenly, I was at his side, fingers gently running over his face. “Are you okay? Are you in any pain? I can call Dr.—”
“I’m fine, Mari.” He grabbed my wrists, pulling them down to rest on his chest. “I’m fine.”
“You are not fine,” I snapped.
I could feel the terror of being trapped under the rubble welling in my stomach again, ready to swallow me whole. Nate must have seen it too, because he yanked me off-balance, pulling me onto the bed with a soft grunt.
“You idiot, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
