Chapter 34

Laine

Irise from unconsciousness with my head pounding like it's ready to split open, each throb a sharp jab of pain. My mind races, piecing together the flashes of what just happened—the sting of a blow to the back of my head, the chilling sight of Cora crumpled on the ground.

Panic surges through me, cold and gripping.

Where am I?

My gaze darts around, assessing my surroundings. I'm back in the stables…but why?

"Good, you're finally awake." The familiarity of the voice sends a fresh wave of dread through my confusion.

It can't be.

Slowly, I focus on the figure sitting across the dimly lit room. Marco? He's manspreading in a chair against the far wall, watching me intently.

"What are you doing here?" My voice comes out weak, and strained. "How did you find me? And why the hell would you attack me—and Cora?"

Thoughts of Cora have me searching the area again, but I don't see her. Is she still out on the grass? Does she need medical care? And what about Connor?

Marco doesn't answer. He sits there, looking nothing like the polished, controlled man I left behind in Chicago. His face is unshaven, his hair unkempt, his clothes disheveled.

This isn't the Marco who thrives in courtrooms. This is a man unraveling at the seams.

"What's wrong with you?" The question escapes my lips before I can think better of it, driven by a mix of concern and horror.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What's wrong with me?" His voice is low and tinged with something dark I can't quite place. "Well, since you asked, my father is dead, the Tessiano family has taken over our lives, and the only reason I'm still alive is because they consider you a loose end and told me to find you."

"A loose end? I had nothing to do with what you and your father were up to."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't seem to matter to them. They said you lived in the house, so you had access to dad's study."

"So, what? You're supposed to drag me back to Chicago?"

His gaze darkens, and a chill runs down my spine. "Not exactly, no."

Shit. "So, you kill me, and then what? Do you honestly think they'll let you live? You're more of a loose end than I ever was."

Marco looks away for a moment, his gaze lost somewhere in the dark corners of the stable. When he meets my eyes again, there's a desperation in them I've never seen before.

"I don't have a lot of options here, Maddie. You were gone, and I convinced them I could find you." He scrubs his head with a rough hand. "I was bluffing. I had no clue where you'd go."

"But you tracked me down through my mom's family?"

He laughs. "Hardly. I couldn't remember her maiden name and thought she was Scottish. No. I was royally fucked until some Irish chick called me and told me you were here. She even told me you'd be alone tonight, so I should make my move."

My mind spins out on that. Someone is actively trying to torpedo me? I push that thought down for now and get back to the most important issue at hand. I'm trapped, not just by the walls of this stall in the stable, but by the situation itself.

"And what? You think that if you kill me they're just going to let you go?"

"No, but I heard you have a stash of cash. You're going to tell me where it is and then I'm going to use that to disappear like you intended to."

Rude. Not only does he intend to kill me, but he also wants to rob me?

Laughter bubbles out of my chest unbidden. "You can go fuck yourself, Marco. I squirreled away that money to ensure my freedom from you and your father if things went south."

"And left me high and dry in the process. Seriously. We're married, for fuck's sake."

I laugh harder this time. "You don't even know the meaning of the word. And no, I'm not telling you where my stash is. It's not my fault you haven't got the foresight to take care of yourself."

He grunts and gets up, walks toward the barn door and returns a moment later, dragging Cora by her bound hands.

I lurch forward, but he holds out a gun and I stop. "You might not share the location of your stash for my sake, but if I know you at all, I bet you'll tell me where it is to save this old broad."

Cora whimpers, recoiling from the muzzle of Marco's gun when he points it at her. To see her so scared hurts my heart. Dried blood stains her silver hair dark. She's also scraped up, and we still don't know what happened to Connor.

And all of this is my fault.

"Fine. Leave Cora alone and I'll take you to the main house and get you my money."

Marco flashes me a cocky smile. "That's what I thought you'd say. But no, the old girl comes with us. If you try anything, she'll pay the price."

I hurry to get to my feet, the crack to my head making me both nauseous and unsteady. With a hand to the wooden wall, I steady myself. I can be woozy later. Right now, I've got my psychotic husband to outsmart.

And outsmart him, I will.

Because where he climbed the ranks because of Daddy Milton's influence and money, I got there because I'm resourceful and don't back down.

My hands tremble as I search for the UTV key in my pocket and then drop into the driver's seat of the side-by-side. The vehicle is meant for two, but has a bucket area behind the seats for carrying things.

It likely wasn't intended to be where lunatics with guns shove lovely old ladies, but Cora is loaded into the trunk area and Marco slides in beside me. He points the gun at my side and grins. "Now, let's get my money."

The engine roars to life, a burst of noise in the quiet of the night. I grip the steering wheel, each breath a conscious effort to keep my panic at bay, as I drive across the property.

My mind races, plotting desperately how best to get help, how to secure Cora's safety, and how to handle Marco without escalating the situation further.

I steer the buggy along the sprawling property, searching for any guards out under the moonlight. Did Tag assign all his men to cover the charity fight?

Is anyone even here?

Yes. Tag told me if anything happened tonight, I was to hit the panic button inside the door and Andrew would come with a team.

With that in mind, I park right in front of the side door and jump out, my legs shaky but still holding me. I jangle the keys as if I need to unlock things and hurry to the door.

While Marco struggles to navigate Cora from the back of the buggy and into the side door, I rush ahead, open the door, and hit the panic button on the wall. My heart pounds against my ribs as I press it, holding my breath, half-expecting sirens to blare and give me away.

But nothing happens—no sound, no immediate sign that I've signaled a desperate SOS.

Relief floods through me, though it's tempered by the gnawing fear of what Marco might do next.

Marco is there in another racing heartbeat, panting and searching the foyer with fury in his eyes. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. I opened the door."

His gaze narrows, but he doesn't hear the lie in my voice. He never could tell when I was lying to him. Unlike Tag, who seems to have a direct tap into reading my thoughts and emotions.

The thought of Tag bolsters my bravery.

I've sent the distress call. He'll either know or be notified there's trouble and will race back here. I'm not alone. Help is on the way.

Marco drops Cora to the foyer floor and holds the gun pointed down at her. "I'm tired of this game, Madelaine. You have no idea what I've been through because of you."

I frown. "What? Because I left, you're alive, dumbass. If I'd stayed in the house when Tessiano's men invaded, we'd all be dead. If you had half a brain, you would've come here and contacted me like a normal person so we could figure out what to do."

He shakes his head. "It's too late. The Tessiano's want blood. It's you or me and when it comes down to it, it won't be me."

Well, it sure as shit won't be me.

"Now. Where's my money?"

"Upstairs," I say, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my insides. "You might as well leave Cora here. She'll slow us down and you know I won't do anything to put her in danger."

Marco seems to consider that for a moment before waving the gun for me to lead the way. "Dad always hated that about you. He said you were too soft and would drag me into the gutter one day."

I lead the way, each step up the staircase echoing ominously in the quiet house. "And here we are, clawing for our lives because of his poor decisions."

My mind races, hoping for an intervention before it's too late. Every second that ticks by is a second closer to potential disaster—or rescue.

As we reach the top of the stairs, my ears strain for any sign of the cavalry I hope is coming. I need to keep Marco talking, keep him distracted. "You don't have to kill me, Marco. If I give you my money, you can take it and go. If you're on the run, what does it matter if I'm dead or not?"

"It matters to Tessiano," he says. "He found out one of his boys helped you get away. He's taking that personally."

I swallow, thinking of poor Tray. If Tessiano knows he helped me escape, he's been put down for his good deed.

Dammit.

At the top of the stairs, my gaze flicks to the windows, to the driveway, searching for any sign of Tag or his men.

Help is close—it has to be.

I just need to stall Marco long enough so that I can get out of this.