Chapter 192 195

Chapter 192 195
Like a caged tiger.

“I spent my birthdays alone in my tiny bunk with the curtains drawn around it. But it still didn’t drown out the sound of her fucking some random stranger on the couch. Some asshole she’d only met the day before.”

I stand still and watch. Stand still and listen.

I don’t move a single muscle.

“I didn’t have friends because none of the other mothers let their kids hang out with me. They thought my mom was a bad influence and therefore I was tainted by association. We lived in a fucking trailer park, Lucio. Do you know how bad someone’s reputation has to be to make them a pariah in a trailer park?”

Her eyes are wild with old memories and fresh pain.

The words are flying out of her mouth so fast that I have to wonder how long she’s kept it all bottled inside her.

She’s still pacing, her hair whipping around her neck every time she turns.

And yet even in her angry, frustrated, nearly hysterical state…

She looks fucking magnificent.

“Because of course my mother didn’t just fuck random strangers. Not exclusively, at least. She also fucked most of the men who lived in the neighboring trailers. And she didn’t give a shit if they had wives or girlfriends. She fucked them because she needed a leak repaired or a drain unclogged. It was a worthy trade-off in her eyes. Her dignity in exchange for just a tiny shred of comfort.”

There are tears glinting in her eyes, but she blinks them back, refusing to let them fall.

“I used to think I’d find my family elsewhere. But not everyone is meant to have a family. And when I realized that, I told myself it was okay. That I was okay. But you know what? I don’t think I’ve ever really accepted it. Which is probably why I’ve clung to Evie and you so hard. And maybe that’s on me, because I should have known better than to fall for either one of you. I’m not meant to have a family. That life is not for me.”

She pauses, turns, and faces me. Her chin is resolute. Her eyes shining bright.

“And you know what? It’s not for you, either. Maybe Sonya was right about you.”

That stings.

It really fucking does, but I don’t betray my feelings.

I stand there and take her anger. I take her heat.

Because I deserve it.

She finally stops pacing.

She turns to me, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. Waits for me to say something. To react.

I don’t.

I just wait, wondering what else she’ll reveal if I just wait long enough.

Or maybe I’m only stalling, because maybe Sonya’s right. And maybe Charlotte’s right, too.

I don’t know how to love.

I don’t know how to be a partner.

I don’t know how to be a father.

Charlotte’s blue eyes burn into my face. Her bottom lip trembles slightly and then she drops her head. Her dark hair swallows her up for a moment.

When she lifts her eyes to mine again, she looks calmer.

As though pouring her heart out just now tempered the fire inside her.

“Xander was an asshole,” she says slowly. It’s almost as though she’s talking to herself. “He never treated me right. But he was there. He stuck around.”

And there’s the problem right there.

She genuinely thinks she owes him something because he didn’t ignore her like her mother or father did?

Because she’d rather be treated badly than abandoned?

I’m not about to stand there and let her make a martyr of that fucker.

I’m not about to tell her what she needs to hear just because it’ll make her feel better in the moment.

Fuck that molly-coddling bullshit.

I’m all about the tough love.

“He deserved to die.”

She gasps as though I’ve slapped her.

“He was a menace to this whole fucking city,” I tell her. “He was a pig and a coward and a cheat and a snake. But even that I could have put up with. What really caps it off is sthat he was toxic for you. That was his real sin. That was his truest crime: hurting you. And for that, I’m glad he’s dead.”

I breathe and then finish: “If Kazimierz hadn’t killed him, I would have.”

She looks at me with a conflicted expression warring in her eyes. I can’t tell if she wants to run into my arms or fight me.

She opens her mouth…

And that’s when the light appears.

A tiny red dot aimed right in the middle of her chest.

I freeze, fear circulating through my body like poison.

For the first time in my life, I have no fucking clue what to do.

“Lucio?” she says, noticing my reaction. Sensing that something is happening.

“Stay still,” I tell her urgently. “Don’t fucking move.”

“Lucio, there’s a red dot on your chest,” she chokes out, panic written across her face. “Why is there a red dot on your chest?”

“We’re surrounded,” I tell her. “The feds are here.”

“The feds?” she says, paling visibly.

Her eyes slip down to her own chest. She sees the red dot emblazoned there.

“Oh God…”

“Charlotte, trust me,” I tell her. “Stay calm. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Me?” she cries. “What about you?”

I’m not one for making promises I can’t keep.

I don’t know that everything is going to be okay.

I don’t know what’s going to happen next.

All I know is that I’ll throw myself in front of her if that’s what it takes.

“Stay calm,” I tell her again.

A second later, I see them descend on the compound. They’re in full riot gear. They surge forward with their weapons drawn, tactical and lethal and trained.

The glass house gives me a perfect view of their formation as they race through the garden and down the driveway.

I can see some of my men being held up at gunpoint. None have made a move to attack.

I’m thankful for that. If this were the Polish, it would be another story.

But the FBI is a different kind of beast.

I see at least six men approach the glass doors of the room Charlotte and I are standing in. Four more enter from the opposite entrance, the one at Charlotte’s back.

She seems to sense them because her eyes flit to the side but she doesn’t move.

It’s just the silent, fear-inducing pounding of booted feet and the clacking of guns aimed right at our fucking heads.

When the men in riot gear have us surrounded, I notice a tall, thin figure approach through the ranks.

He’s wearing a bulletproof vest over his dress shirt, but he’s not decked out like the rest of his men.

I recognize that mustache, though.

He steps through and surveys the scene with alert eyes.

“Agent Jacobsen,” I greet as coolly as I can. “Nice of you to drop in unannounced.”

“Lucio Mazzeo,” he says in a deep, gravelly voice. “You’re under arrest. Again.”

“I assume you have a warrant?”

He pulls out the warrant from the inside of his shirt, displaying it briefly, before concealing it again.

“What are you arresting him for?” Charlotte demands.

The detective glances at her. “Haven’t we done this routine already? Drug-dealing, smuggling and illegal trading. There’s more, but it’s a long list.”

He turns to Charlotte.

“Charlotte Dunn,” he says. “I have a warrant for your arrest as well. Aiding and abetting, obstruction of justice… and so on and so forth. Again, quite a rap sheet.”

She doesn’t suck in her breath or gasp or do anything to suggest she’s upset or shocked by the idea of her own arrest.

“Sonya gave you all this information, did she?” she asks instead.