Chapter 5
Gio
Our Aunt Wren lived at the end of a cul-de-sac just about an hour outside of New York City.
The second we parked our car, her five-year-old son, Cruz, and her boyfriend’s little brother, Kane, burst from the front door with happy smiles.
Two five-year-old boys acted like my brother and I were the coolest people in the whole entire world.
“Gio, Kingston!”
I caught Cruz in my arms, and my brother caught Kane.
“Are you guys getting any better at that video game we got you?” I asked while my five-year-old cousin began pushing against my eye sockets.
“Can you still see when I do this?”
Kane did the same thing to Kingston, which made him laugh.
Our aunt appeared seconds later, her smile was bright as she greeted us. “Hi, boys.”
“Hey, tía.” I said with a smile.
My father’s little sister looked just like him: the same brown skin, with warm amber eyes, but where my father was hard and blunt, she was soft and beautiful.
Her hair was long and thick, and she was considerably more petite than my father, which was only amplified when her boyfriend, Archer, came up behind her.
“Hey, guys.”
I gave him a warm smile, although I still felt mildly awkward, considering only a few months ago, we had tried killing one another. “Hey.”
Archer was the president of a motorcycle club from New York, so while he looked like a Viking with his longer hair, tied in a bun, and his shocking blue eyes, he also gave off the vibe that he’d murder you bare-handed if he felt so inclined.
“What brings you boys by?” Wren asked while we made our way into the two-story house.
“Just some business in the city, thought maybe we’d see you guys first,” Kingston answered while letting Kane out of his arms.
“Well then, stay for dinner!” our aunt gushed while moving to sit on the armrest of the couch. Archer sat down next to her and quickly pulled her hand into his.
“Sure, we’d love to,” I answered while Kingston nodded.
This was so fucking awkward, but if we didn’t start trying to put things back together, then we’d never get past what we did. We nearly cost Archer his life, took some of his men’s lives, and endangered her kids. We owed them a fucking lot.
Besides, we were going to have to get used to eating humble pie if Presley ever let us back into her life.
“Well, I’m going to get it started. You guys relax and play some video games with the boys, I’m sure they’d love that.” Wren stood from the couch and ruffled King’s hair on her way into the kitchen.
Archer sat forward, leveling his blue-eyed gaze on us. “You need any backup for your business in the city?”
Kingston shook his head while I answered, “We have our men coming in.”
Archer nodded in understanding. “Well, if you ever need us. For anything at all, you call me. We’re family now.”
Something warm and bright moved into my sternum, taking me back to a time when I used to feel that sense of family every day when I’d wake up in the manor. Carter, Alex, and Presley were all there, and of course King. It was a feeling I hadn’t had in a very long time.
“Thank you,” I said honestly.
The moment was heavy between us for a few seconds before two five-year-old boys ran back into the room, holding game controllers. “Okay, this time, we’re going to win.”
Kingston laughed while he helped Cruz sit next to him, and Kane took up the spot near me.
“Let’s play teams! Brothers against brothers.” Kane yelled excitedly.
Kingston glanced over at me tentatively, as if he were nervous that I’d reject him. “You’ll never win against me and Gio.”
I smiled back and took my controller, and regardless of how pissed I was at my brother, I agreed.
“Never. It’s me and King against the world.”
Henry gave us a small salute as he drove past our team of fifteen and continued toward the back. Kingston drove while I rode shotgun; no one else traveled in the same vehicle as us. Dawn had barely broken upon the world, and we were already nearing the residence of Markos Mariano.
We decided to stay the night with our aunt, and enjoyed a fun filled evening with our cousins.
However, Archer’s men came around, and while we were all working to get past what we’d done, it was still somewhat dangerous to be on his turf.
The smallest misunderstanding could end up with a bullet in either my or my brother’s head.
We left at first light, and now, we just wanted to get this over with and get home.
“Gates are closed and locked.” Kingston observed as he began increasing his speed.
“Do we have the capacity to break through that?” I glanced over at him before checking the closed iron gates looming before us. Behind it were acres of manicured lawns and cobblestone, leading to a mansion that rivaled the one we grew up in.
Kingston pushed his foot to the floor. “We’re about to find out.”
“King, don’t be fucking stupid. I’m not in the mood to have my nose busted by an airbag.”
There was a grille guard on the SUV, but it wasn’t as strong as an armored truck would be.
My brother didn’t seem phased in the slightest as we neared the iron gate, and right as we were about to hit them, I cursed and closed my eyes.
“Holy shiiiiiitttttt,” I yelled, pushing back into the seat with a wince.
King sped into the entrance, forcing the gates to burst apart. Our car rushed through them and over the tidy lawns, even hitting a few lawn figures. A fleet of SUVs followed behind us, matching our speed and spreading throughout the courtyard.
Kingston slammed to a stop right in front of the stairs that led up to the house, and within seconds, we were out of the car, with our assault rifles up.
We wore tactical vests and gear, with thick- soled boots and cargo pants that allowed us to tuck away blades and grenades.
King tossed one up near the front door, and we ducked behind a stone wall while the explosion went off and the front door blew inward.
“Go. Go. Go,” one of the men in our group yelled, and a flow of members went ahead of us into the mansion.
It was hard to focus on anything other than the space in front of us, ensuring we were checking for traps or anything that could harm us. But the more floors that we cleared, the more we realized the place was empty, but there was no sign whatsoever that Markos was dead.
Henry entered through the back, and within minutes, we’d joined the rest of the party that had arrived.
“Clear!” someone called out from the top floor.
Another shouted from the floor right below it. This carried on until every floor was cleared.
“There has to be another level, or someplace we aren’t checking,” I said, while snooping around his office.
Dark wood covered the floor, and soft cream brightened the walls.
There were bookshelves along each wall and a massive desk in the middle of the room.
Pictures, in heavy silver frames, lined the bookshelves.
I picked one up and inspected it: a man near my dad’s age with silver hair, dark brows, and a rigid jaw line.
He wore sunglasses in the image, and he was sipping a drink while a man next to him smiled and pointed at the camera.
The man in the picture had a tattoo on his hand that looked like an hourglass with a knife cutting through it.
I knew that tattoo.
My mind flipped around memories of where I’d seen it, but I couldn’t place it at the moment, so I continued down the shelves, seeing image after image of this man who had to be Markos in each and every one.
He liked to see himself, that much was clear. In a few of the pictures, it was just him.
Kingston tore open the desk drawer and dumped out all the contents. He did the same with the other few drawers until the surface was littered with all Markos’s items. We began sifting through everything, seeing if there was any information that would lead us to him.
“Bag all of this up.” Henry walked into the room, holding an assault rifle. A few of our men moved around the room and began doing exactly that. I watched as they started packing things away, but saw something that caught my eye.
“Wait!”
Kingston glanced at the man who had frozen with his hands on a pile of papers.
Walking closer, I plucked the picture out of the pile and inspected the blonde woman inside it. There were several images being held together with a paperclip. I could feel my rage begin to unfurl as I sorted through picture after picture.
The blonde woman walking on a college campus, pregnant.
The blonde woman smiling at a guy wearing a hockey letterman jacket. He wasn’t looking at her, but she was staring at him.
The blonde woman walking with the man, his hand around her waist.
My brother came around my shoulder and watched as I flipped through each and every image, then set down his gun, and by the way he picked up each image I dropped, I knew he was just as angry as I was.
“Why the fuck does he have all the pictures of Mom and Dad?”
I looked up, catching my twin’s gaze. Dad had mentioned that Markos was intended to marry our mom…
Presley had mentioned that her dad killed our mom’s father because he was a bad man.
He must have been the one who had orchestrated that arrangement.
I could understand wanting to make good on an arrangement or even someone promised to you, but these images…
“He was stalking her.”
Kingston grabbed another picture. “Not just her…he was watching Dad too. Even before he took over El Peligro.”
I stopped looking when we came across an image of our mom in a bathing suit. That was enough, especially if he’d creeped on her privately.
“But why would he keep these after twenty years?”
My brows cinched in, mirroring my brothers who was trying to work out the same thing.
Henry leaned closer, trying to help. “Do you think he considers the pictures a trophy?”
That was possible, depending on what kind of sick fuck he was. He’d stalked her, so that part was already clear…