Lucian (29 page)

After that, time moved so much faster.

Lucian couldn’t consider Jordyn still pressed into the corner, or how he struggled to catch breath as he turned to face the man. He kicked the wire that fell to the floor off to the side, out of reach. Startlingly quick, his fists landed one after the other into a bleeding, broken face he didn’t recognize. Lucian didn’t register his knuckles spitting open on the man’s teeth as he continued his assault until the guy was backed into the other side of the elevator.

Rage swelled with every hit. Lucian trembled all over. The man blindly waved out at him, maybe in an effort to hit back, but the blood was undoubtedly blinding him and the strength of the defensive moves were weak at best.

With all the force he could muster, Lucian’s knee landed to the man’s stomach, again taking away his air. Groaning, the man doubled over, falling to his knees on the floor. After, he reached over and hit the keypad on the elevator to close the doors before hitting the ground floor button to take them back down. Lucian released a shaky exhale, his fists clenching into tight balls at his sides.

“I have sixty seconds before this thing stops again,” Lucian told the man. “That’s sixty seconds with just you and me, asshole. Sixty seconds in a six-by-six metal box you planned to kill me in, but that you can’t get out of, now. Just imagine the damage I can do to you in one minute. Start counting.”

“Lucian …”

Jordyn’s painful whisper behind him made Lucian tense all over. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” she replied bleakly.

“Fifty-five,” Lucian informed the man beneath him. “Tell me who hired you and I’ll make it easy.”

The man chuckled, though it sounded painful. “I doubt that.”

Lucian struck out with a kick that sent the man’s head flying back into the wall. Gurgles of bitter laughter answered the hit. “Who?”

“Of all people, you should know it doesn’t work that way,” the man forced out, blood spitting from between broken teeth. “I don’t get the names of employers, just the contract and the pay.”

Lucian’s jaw clenched. “How much?”

“Two-hundred-fifty-thousand down, the same after it was done, but that wouldn’t come for at least thirty days after burial.”

Jordyn gasped quietly. Lucian didn’t even react.

“You made a big mistake,” Lucian said.

“No,” the man coughed out. “I simply underestimated you.”

“Same difference.”

One last time, Lucian kicked the man. The power behind the kick sent more blood spewing, and the man into unconsciousness. Twenty seconds later, the doors opened for the elevator. It was only then that Lucian turned back to Jordyn.

She was shaking.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Lucian urged, his throat scratchy and raw. “I’m fine, I promise.”

Jordyn didn’t hesitate before flying off the wall into his open embrace. “I wanted to—”

Lucian shushed low, holding her tighter. “I know. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

The words became a mantra as someone outside the elevator began calling for help. Jordyn wasn’t the only one who cried that time.

• • •

Jordyn paced the length of the hallway without once noticing time passing her by. She already went through the hoops of giving her statement, and running through a short interview with detectives. They were more interested in what she could tell them about Lucian Marcello and his family, rather than the man who tried to kill her lover in an elevator two hours before. Not that she told them anything, because she didn’t have a damned thing to tell. She never would.

The interview didn’t last long, though. A lawyer, one Jordyn didn’t know and hadn’t asked for because she didn’t think she needed one, was quick to step into the interview and shut it down. Hired by Antony Marcello, the man explained. If the detectives had nothing more to ask Jordyn about the hotel incident, she would be leaving with him and they could contact him if they had any more questions or requests from there on out. Contacting Jordyn directly without him present would only lead to a harassment claim the police didn’t need, he warned.

Jordyn quickly realized Antony Marcello did not play around when it came to his family and business.

After that, she’d been shuffled into a car and driven to the Marcello home.

Again …

She really just wanted to go home with Lucian.

Wherever he was.

Jordyn suspected he was still under the guise of the detectives wanting interviews. Or saying they needed more information. Maybe they assumed Lucian knew more about the man in intensive care than he was saying. It was hard to tell, given she hadn’t seen him in hours.

It didn’t help that Antony holed himself up in his office without a word, but Jordyn being outside in the hallway gave her all the access she needed to hear his rising frustrations and anger. All she understood was that he was on the phone, to lawyers, to the hotel security, and whoever else. Antony wanted Lucian out of police custody immediately. His son was not the perpetrator, but the victim. It was on tape. Why wasn’t he out?

Obviously, officials were trying to take this as their chance to dig deeper into the family secrets, and Antony wouldn’t allow them to.

Jordyn also learned Lucian’s father was no closer to figuring out who was behind these attacks, or even why, for that matter. The man who attempted to kill Lucian tonight, however, had been identified. Christophe was simply a hired man—a good one, apparently, from what Jordyn understood. Anyone who had contacts in the world of Mafiosi could easily contract him for a specific job, and the guy was known to get it done quickly, correctly, and without issue.

Lucian was the only victim of the man anyone knew who had survived.

Dante, when Jordyn gained the courage to ask, explained Christophe likely wouldn’t have turned on her unless it was absolutely necessary. Like perhaps if she had tried to attack him. The facts were simple, his job was Lucian, not Jordyn. She could have seen his face—which she did—and it wouldn’t have mattered.

The man was essentially a ghost. He had no real affiliation to any crime family. His life was lived off the grid of anything worthy of being official or documented. As swiftly as he appeared somewhere, he could just as easily disappear.

If Christophe survived the night, he would be a lucky man. The doctors gave him little chance. The last of the beating he took caused heavy bleeding on the brain, as well as swelling. Supposedly he was in surgery and would be for hours. Part of his skull needed to be removed for the swelling. The bleeding needed to be stopped. On the off chance he did survive, the man would be severely handicapped with the expectation of life as an invalid, both mentally and physically.

Well, he wouldn’t be coming after Lucian again. Jordyn took comfort in knowing that at least.

“Jordyn … darling?”

Jordyn’s head popped up at the sweet, soothing tenor of Lucian’s mother. “Yes?”

Cecelia offered her a smile, but it didn’t reach the woman’s eyes like it usually would. “How are you feeling?”

“Worried,” Jordyn admitted.

“Don’t be. They have no reasonable right to hold him. They certainly can’t charge him with anything. This is just the usual antics of the police. We have to wait it out.”

Jordyn nodded, still feeling bleak. “And what about the next time?”

Cecelia cleared her throat, a pink rising in her cheeks. Jordyn wasn’t entirely sure if her attitude offended Lucian’s mother or embarrassed her by the reaction she gave. Maybe it wasn’t so much her attitude as it was the question. Truth was, Jordyn knew women weren’t supposed to be involved in the business side of things when it came to the Cosa Nostra.

Ears didn’t hear. Eyes didn’t see. Mouths didn’t speak.

No matter what, those were the rules.

“I’m sorry,” Jordyn muttered, glancing away from Cecelia. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You must think I live a very blissfully ignorant life, darling.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Cecelia smiled sadly. “There was a time when my husband thought pretty, sparkly things would be apology enough for his late nights, locked doors, and distance. That new furs, a fast car, or even a vacation home was the compromise for me turning cheek to the crates in the basement, the gun hidden in my silverware drawer, or the rolls of cash I fished out of his dirty pants pockets.

“They weren’t,” Cecelia continued quietly. “For a while, Antony forgot I may have knew my place and what was expected of me, but I was far from naive to his business. I knew exactly who he was the moment I met him, and I knew exactly what he was when I married him. The silly man forgot I was more than okay with those things, too. Over time, he’s learned his words and honesty will get him much more from me than a diamond ring will.”

Jordyn mulled over Cecelia’s admission. “Not all are like that, though.”

“No. But we’re certainly not a special case, either.”

“So what do I do the next time?” Jordyn asked.

Cecelia shrugged. “You don’t know there will be a next time.”

“Yes, I do.”

Jordyn was sure of it. Unless the person setting these situations up were caught, it would continue until one of two things happened. Lucian died, or the perpetrator did. How lucky could Lucian be every time? Eventually, the house would win.

Besides that, Jordyn had a feeling this kind of thing was always at the back of a Mafioso’s mind.

It was their life, after all.

Cecelia sighed heavily. “I suppose you learn to trust the man you chose. I did.”

“They’re not finished,” Jordyn said after a moment of silence. “Whoever this is … they’re not done. If they’re willing to shell out two-hundred-fifty grand and then another two-fifty after his burial to guarantee Lucian’s death, then who’s to say they wouldn’t pay more to make sure he was gone the next time?”

Cecelia’s mouth opened to speak, but just as fast, she clammed up and her brow furrowed. “How much?”

Jordyn repeated what the attacker has said in the elevator before Lucian kicked him half to death. “Why?”

The usually sunny, happy woman that was Cecelia Marcello turned sickly looking. A shaking hand fluttered up to her mouth as her eyes darted back and forth between Jordyn and a spot on the wall.

“You’re positive?” Cecelia asked.

“Yes,” Jordyn replied, surprised at her tone.

“I … I have to talk to Antony,” Cecelia managed to whisper. “Now.”

Jordyn didn’t think to tell Cecelia her husband made it clear earlier he wasn’t to be interrupted until he asked for someone’s presence. In fact, Jordyn followed the trembling woman down the hall and straight inside the office doors Cecelia pushed open without bothering to knock.

Both Dante and Gio glanced up at their mother’s sudden appearance from their respective seats in the chairs across from Antony’s desk. Antony’s piercing, angry gaze flew across the room to his wife immediately.

“I’m busy,” he said sharply.

“Antony …” Cecelia struggled with her words, seemingly unable to find the right ones. “I didn’t know. She’s my … I know she’s awful, but I didn’t think she would do this. Why would I think for a moment she would use me to hurt him?”

Antony didn’t bother to say a thing into the phone pressed to his ear before he clicked the call off and dropped the device to the desk. “
Tesoro
?”

“I think I did something wrong,” Cecelia said.

“Talk to me,” Antony demanded harshly. “Use words I can understand.”

Jordyn felt all the blood drain from her face as Cecelia blurted out the information no one had been able to find before.

“A couple of months ago, Kate wanted money. It was supposed to be for some offshore investment her financial manager offered to get her in on, but she didn’t have the proper accounts or the cash to get her started. I didn’t check it out, or think to.”

“But you gave her the money,” Antony said, his fingers curling around the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white. “Without asking me at all?”

“I’ve never needed to discuss my accounts with you before!”

“Because I never had a reason not to trust you!” Antony shouted back. “How much money have you given to her behind my back?”

“This was the first time she asked,” Cecelia rushed to say. “That’s why I didn’t think anything of it. I just had the money transferred from my offshore account into the one she designated. I don’t even know if it was hers, now.”

Antony released a shuddering exhale. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“It was two-hundred-fifty-thousand U.S. dollars. The same amount paid for the hit on Lucian. How likely is that to be coincidental, Antony?”

“How do you know—”

“The hired man told them, and the other half of the payment was to come at least thirty days after burial.”

Now, it was Antony’s turn to go white. “John’s trusts … the clauses and addendums… He didn’t know, Cecelia. Lucian didn’t know anything about that money because he wasn’t supposed to.”

“But she did,” Cecelia said. “Kate knew, Antony. The entire Will and Testament was read to her at her request before anyone had found Lucian.”