His whole stance was casual. He wasn’t alarmed. Scared.

Nothing.

The corner of his mouth lifted up and he nodded to himself. “Right. Of course they’re dead, because they’re not my best men. My top man was Clay. My second was Abram, and I have myself to blame for neither of them being my men anymore.” He pushed up, but he stood there. He made no move to advance toward me.

I was holding Gus back, whose tail was wagging at first. That was when he caught Marco’s scent, or I was assuming for the reason he pulled me here. Now, seeing a man, Gus was growling and straining to get free.

I held on. I wasn’t ready.

He had that gun.

I had a feeling he’d be a better shot than the other guy outside of Gus’ original home.

“So, Miss Marakov.” Another grin from him, like we both just shared an inside joke. “Let’s talk, you and me. I figure I have precious time before there’s more gunfire or a dog tries to attack me or, who knows what could happen. I won’t get this chance again, not for a long time if ever.”

With that said, he went to the second vehicle, a car, and he sat on the front. One leg could still touch the ground. The other was bent, his foot resting on the tire just underneath him. He leaned forward, an elbow resting on his knee. That gun was still in his grip, but it was being held casually.

I was dumbfounded. That was it.

Dumb. Founded.

“I did my research on you. I know your name, know your mother killed herself, your sister was reported missing. You were reported missing, and your father’s done rehab. That’s what my private investigator told me. Are we caught up?” His eyes sparked. He looked casual, but he wasn’t. His gaze was sharp. “I also know what you can do. I’m assuming you’re the ‘gift’ Raize was offering. You could tell me if a man named Jorge Miller killed my brother?”

My gut flared.

“I could tell you, yes.”

His eyes narrowed. He raised his chin up, going to the side. “How does that work? If you’re not ‘psychic’, how do you know?”

“...your mother killed herself…”

I was back there, sitting in the hallway, as they took her body from the room.

I pushed that aside.

“People get good at deciphering how a footstep sounds when a drunk father comes home, especially if he’s angry. If a door shuts a certain way. How a bag is rustled. You know, you just know to hide or if you can keep breathing.” I lifted up a shoulder, lying through my teeth but not at the same time. “It’s kinda like that, I guess.”

“You lived with an abuser, you mean?”

Goddamn.

“I’ve worked for six mafia bosses. My gut sharpened, real quick, after the first two.”

It had nothing to do with them. Again. I was lying. He didn’t get to know where I learned this skill, or where my gut did.

His eyes were steady on me, and he measured me. He raised his face. “Right. I guess that makes sense. Somewhat.” He frowned to himself, looking around.

But he still wasn’t worried.

Why wasn’t he alarmed?

“So.” He extended a hand toward me, waiting. “Did Jorge do it? Did he kill my brother?”

I knew the answer. “Go away and I’ll tell you.”

Surprise flashed over his face, and he let out a chuckle. “That’s funny. I’m sure, I’ll leave and you’ll call me with the answer? Maybe you and I can start texting each other? How about we do that, too?” His grin faded and his mouth tightened. “Do not insult my intelligence.” He looked over my shoulder before focusing on me again. “I’m not sure what Clay has shared with you, but I am not a stupid man. I might be selfish, ruthless, but when you think you’ve outsmarted me, that’s when I’ve killed you.”

My chest felt an invisible hand pressing down on it.

I stiffened.

“There’s a reason I’m sitting here and why I haven’t just shot you or your dog, and then driven away— because I could. Clay has let you out of his sight. He dropped his guard, and there’s only one reason he would’ve done that, and that’s the reason I’m staying. My guess is that Verónica is already gone. He’s stashed her somewhere, and he’s feeling that pain. It’s the only time he ever messed up, when he was in agony over someone he loved. And don’t take it personal. If he stashed you somewhere, he’d do the same thing then, too. I can tell that he cares for you, which is the second reason I’m sticking around.”

Well, crap then.

“The other reasons are that I want you to come work for me.” His eyes dropped to Gus, who was still growling. “If I hurt you or your dog, I have a feeling that wouldn’t work out in my favor. And, yes, I’m intrigued if Jorge actually did kill my brother.” A low chuckle slid out from him. “Though, that’s a question I’ve had for years now and it’s becoming a punchline in some joke. I’m the punchline, I’m sure.”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m not going to work for you.”

“Not yet, but you will.” He stood from the car. “Maybe one day.”

I jerked back and Gus tried to lunge free.

I held on to the leash.

Marco paused, watching both of our reactions before he put his gun away. “You can tell Clay I’ve changed my mind. I would like to accept his boss’ offer on a working relationship. You can also tell Clay that I have a death order in place. When I’m killed, the first sicario to find my sister and kill her will earn my empire.”

I was stricken.

That—no…

He laughed. “She’s missing. I’ll accept that, which I’m sure will shock Clay and his employer, but there is a part of me that loves her. Other than my empire, mi familia is the only thing that’s important. The other part of me wants her dead when I’m dead, but we’ll work with the good part today. Hmm?” He walked to the SUV’s driver’s side. “Tell Clay I’ll be in touch, or tell Roman Marakov I’ll be in touch when you see him yourself.” Another smile, one that had me tasting bile. “Has Clay told you that his boss considers you his personal asset? If he hasn’t, you can bring that up as well, too.”

He left and I stood there, remembering…

“...mi familia is the only thing that’s important…”

“Sisters, sweetie. She’s your friend that’ll never leave. You’d like a new friend, wouldn’t you? Family is the only thing that’s important.”

It was all coming back to me. All at once. All together.

The memories. They were haunting me, pressing to get out.

My brain was swelling.

They wanted out, out, out.

I couldn’t—my head. It was like a chainsaw was being used on it.

My heart was thumping, so hard, so loud, so strong.

I couldn’t do anything.

Then, arms picked me up and I heard Raize say, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?”

“This is your new room, sweetheart.”

She opened the door and inside were two beds. A little girl was sitting on one of them, a doll in her hand.