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Which is why the deal we’d made with Marco was so perfect.
Marco turned to face me, his back to Vince. “After this, our family’s relationship with the club will return to normal, yes?”
“Marco,” Vince said, trying to get his attention.
I nodded and once again held out my hand. “Absolutely. I’ll be at the funeral to pay my respects to your parents on behalf of the club.”
“Marco!”
We shook, Marco’s head bobbing. “Thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”
He knew how bad this could have been.
The Martelli family was large. They had a lot of men underneath them. But they would have been an easy target with their leader dead and the chaos that would follow in the next few weeks or even months while Marco proved his worth.
But I didn’t want a war. And Shay had made it very clear she didn’t want one either.
In Marco’s eyes, we were compromising, but really, we were both getting what we wanted.
Marco turned, refusing to look at Vince as he passed by and headed with his two guards toward the exit.
“Marco!” Vince screamed. Rafe tackled and sent him sprawling to the floor when he tried to chase after his brother. “Marco,” he choked out, fighting for breath as he scratched at the floor, groaning in pain.
But Marco didn’t look back, the steel door closing with a resounding slam behind him, leaving Vince alone once again.
“No, no, no,” Vince mumbled, shaking his head frantically as he kept trying to get up.
But he was battered and bruised, struggling with every movement, his wrist now hanging completely limp like it was rubber.
“Marco was never going to let you get away with what you did,” I explained, taking a step toward him. He blinked up at me, tears in his eyes that did nothing but spur me on. I wanted him to be scared, to wonder what his fate held, and to know it would not be pleasant. That’s what he’d put Shay through. That’s how she’d felt just moments before she almost fucking died. “But he also needed to make it right with the club, to make sure there was no leftover animosity between us, so we came to an agreement.”
I walked toward him, seeing the fear in his eyes as I cracked my knuckles.
“In the end, you’ll be dead,” I whispered, grabbed his shirt, lifted him off the floor, and pulled back my fist. “And I get to be the person to deliver you to Hell.”
Chapter Forty-Two
SHAY
“Calli, I swear to God, if you don’t stop giggling…” I warned my best friend as we stumbled up the front steps to the porch. Whip and Rafe had been our designated babysitters for the night, and I could practically hear them cackling as they sat in Calli’s car with the headlights pointed at the steps, waiting for us to get inside before they headed back to the clubhouse.
I grabbed the door handle, twisting it and almost falling flat on my face as it swung inward.
Calli slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to smother her laughter, although she was doing a pretty shitty job, her giggles filling the foyer. “Shh!” I hissed with a smile, flicking the light switch on and giving the boys a wave as they pulled out of the driveway.
Bishop was slowly easing up on the protection detail.
Maybe it was a little overkill to have a couple of club members with us a month after the chaos that was Vince Martelli. Still, I didn’t mind so much because I knew it gave him peace of mind, and honestly, it gave me a little too.
After what happened, the sleepless nights came back with a vengeance.
This time, even with Bishop lying beside me, there was no escaping them for almost two weeks. But he stayed with me every single night. Holding me. Talking to me.
Reassuring me I was safe for hours until the sun came up and the shadows disappeared.
It was a battle with my brain that I’d fought before but never would have won without him.
With the front door shut, I leaned back against it, exhaling a relieved breath. The house was still quiet.
