32. West
CHAPTER 32
WEST
Lucky and Crew leave the room in record time—but only after Sydney gives them the okay nod. Apparently, they don’t want to stay for the next conversation but are chivalrous enough to make sure she’s comfortable with me.
I don’t blame them for ditching us. I feel like blowing my top. All the pieces are coming together. Why she didn’t want to be carted away by police officers that could actually keep her safe? She was looking for the Ricci family. She didn’t accidentally stumble across the mafia. She hunted them down.
“You didn’t just happen to come across a mafia murderer while you were looking for treasure. Or accidentally find out about a random cache of money. You targeted them!”
She sighs. “I know it might seem a little odd.”
“A little? I’ve been running for my life and now have a sunken boat and a few thousand dollars of lost gear because of you. I’m not just mad…I’m, I’m, I— I’m?—”
She grimaces and fills in the blank for me. “Irate?”
“Yes!” I hate that she’s made me lose my cool.
“Furious!” she supplies as she folds her arms across her chest and drums her fingers against her arm.
“Yes!” I hate that her keeping secrets affects me so much.
“Planning your own revenge?” she asks as though it’s the most natural thing.
“Thinking about wringing your neck. Does that work?”
She nods very calmly. “Of course. It’s the only logical response.”
There is nothing logical about my feelings toward Sydney.
“Want to back out?”
I pause mid-yell at her question. It’s a valid question. Should I walk away? It’s not like she’s completely alone. She’d have Lucky and Crew.
My stomach drops at the thought. I know they wouldn’t ever hurt her. But they’re completely irresponsible. I couldn’t trust them to protect her.
I should walk away. Go back to my original idea of living alone on a sailboat or even circumnavigating the globe. Great options—if I had a boat.
I sink down onto the edge of the bed and point to the chair. “Sit down and explain yourself.”
She sheepishly sits on the chair, tucking her legs underneath her. “Explain why I didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ve got that part figured out. I meant, explain why you want revenge on the Italian mafia.”
“My dad is a boxer.”
I nod. “Alright. Continue.”
“Are you familiar with the boxing world?”
“Some. Not all the details, but enough. I’ve followed some of the bigger fights but don’t follow the sport.”
She shifts and looks at me sheepishly. “My dad is Bret Monroe. He— well, he’s a really good boxer. They used to call him “Sure Bret” because he won so often.” She looks at me from under her down-swept lashes.
“I know of him. He was the first four-belt champion.”
Sydney nods.
“I don’t know much about his retirement, though.”
Sydney clears her throat. “Someone dosed him with narcotics on his last fight. He lost. It turned out the Italian mafia needed to clean some money and had placed a large bet on his opponent. Even though Dad eventually cleared his name, he never boxed competitively again.”
I take a step back and sit on the edge of the TV stand. “And this led you here how?”
“Dad has always said he would love to get even with the Ricci family someday. He wants them to get what they deserve…”
I stare at the top of her head since she’s busy studying her jeans. “And I guess when the opportunity presented itself, I felt the same way. They need someone to knock them down a peg. Show them they can’t just ruin lives.”
“So you decided to risk your life to get revenge for your dad?”
She lifts her head slowly. Her green eyes are bright as she replies, “Yes.”