Page 164 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

Cross barely registered the many vehicles parked in the Marcello drive. He simply parked the rental car behind someone’s red Hummer, and left the engine running as he exited the vehicle. Inside the Marcello home, he found everyone gathered between the dining room and the kitchen.

Even people he didn’t expect to be there.

His father.

Wolf.

Zeke.

His people.

There were far more of Catherine’s family, though. Far more.

“What the fuck took you so long?” Dante barked from across the room.

Cross looked at Dante, and found chaos staring back at him. Sure, Dante was good at hiding it, a lot like any made man was, but it was still there. Cross thought he could probably see it hidden in the man better than most because he understood Dante’s pain.

They loved Catherine differently, but they still loved her.

That was the very same.

“I would have just been getting on a flight out of Chicago now had I waited,” Cross said. “I chose to drive.”

Calisto glanced at his son. “All night?”

Cross shrugged.

He hadn’t slept.

He wouldn’t until he had Catherine.

Zeke, always his best friend no matter the situation, stepped up beside him. His hand landed hard to Cross’s shoulder, and gave him a nod. It was enough. It didn’t help, but it resounded. That was fine, too.

“You good?” Zeke asked.

“No,” Cross admitted.

“We’ll figure this shit out, man.”

“Listen to this garbage,” Dante said.

The Marcello boss reached over and hit a button on a phone. Instantly, a message started to play. No one else seemed surprised at what was being said on the message, and Cross suspected they had all already heard it a dozen times over.

“Dante, it’s been a few years since we had a face to face, no?” Rhys Crain’s voice echoed through the speaker into a silent room. “As long as business is good between us, we never needed a meet, I suppose. Nature of the beast, my man.”

A shuffling sound followed, and then a hollow chuckle.

“Your daughter—she’s quite a beautiful thing,” Rhys murmured. “I was told she takes quite a bit after her mother. Catrina, I believe your wife’s name is. A vicious little Queen Pin. How cute.”

Cross’s gaze found the woman in question standing on the other side of the kitchen island. She had been sipping a glass of wine. At the mention of her name, Catherine’s mother stiffened, and her knuckles went white around the glass.

Rhys’ voice brought Cross back to the message at hand.

“Listen, Marcello, your daughter really has nothing I need or want. I could certainly use her for something, but she’s a bit too Italian for my tastes. What I want are the guns I was promised. See, those guns have a place to be, and hands to be in. They’re going to make me a lot of money when they’re on the ground being put to use. I had some research done—seems the man you were using to run me the guns has ties to your daughter as well. Cross, they told me. Imagine, the gunrunner they use to ship my guns to me. What were the odds? I needed to make a damn good point here, didn’t I? Get me my guns.”

Rhys barked out a date, and added, “You know where you can usually find me, Dante. Do make sure my guns are delivered.”

Then, the call clicked off. Everyone in the room stayed silent, waiting for someone else to speak. Cross didn’t plan on being the first one to do so. At the moment, he didn’t have anything to say.