Chapter 26 Nick
Nick
Istood there, dust billowing behind the SUV as it pulled away with Dante handcuffed in the back seat.
My stomach twisted in knots, but there was nothing I could do.
I couldn’t prove his innocence anymore than I could prove he hadn’t blackmailed my family into an arranged marriage.
The deck was stacked against him, and my heart was on the line.
“Was that Caruso?” Angelo asked, his arm around my shoulders as tears streamed down my face. “What happened?”
I nodded, unable to find my voice. The image of Dante’s face through that back window… It was resigned, defeated, and trying to be strong for me. I’d never forget that image.
“They arrested him for murder,” I finally managed, my voice cracking. “Some family called the Bensons. A whole family, Angelo. Parents and two kids.”
Angelo’s face went pale. “The Bensons,” he repeated, and something in his tone made me look up at him. “Fuck. Nick, we need to talk. Right now.”
He steered me toward the tiny house, his grip on my shoulder firm enough that I didn’t have a choice but to follow. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else, carrying me forward on autopilot while my mind raced through everything Caruso had said.
Murder. Federal charges. Evidence.
This couldn’t be happening. Not to Dante. Not when we’d just…
“Nick,” Angelo said sharply as we reached the porch. “I need you to focus. Can you do that for me?”
I wiped at my face, trying to pull myself together. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m focused.”
“Good.” He glanced around, making sure we were alone before continuing. “Thomas Benson was fencing stolen goods through a chain of auto shops, and when the cops got close, he flipped. Started talking to Caruso about everything after Caruso threatened to imprison Benson’s son.”
My stomach dropped. “And Dante’s father found out.”
“Yeah.” Angelo’s jaw clenched. “Dante did the interrogation. He roughed Benson up a bit. But he didn’t kill him. I can promise you that.”
“Then why—”
“Because Caruso’s been obsessed with taking down the Valentis for years,” Angelo interrupted.
“And Dante’s the easiest target. He’s young, he’s away from the family, and now he’s got ties to this ranch that Caruso can use to prove Dante’s got a history of getting what he wants through any means necessary. ”
I felt sick. “So, what do we do?”
Angelo pulled out his phone. “First, I need to call Mr. Valenti. Let him know what happened. Then we need to get the Valenti family lawyer down here as fast as possible.” He paused, his expression grim.
“We’ll need to have a meeting with your family to get the story straight.
If the cops find out that Dante forced you into marriage, it won’t matter if they can prove the murders. They’ll put him behind bars, anyway.”
“Heather’s gonna turn him in,” I said, panic welling up inside me. “She hates him. She won’t even hesitate—”
“Leave Heather to me,” Angelo replied. “Now I need you to give me permission to go through your house, top to bottom.”
I stared at him, trying to process what he was asking through the fog of panic. “What? Why?”
“Because if the cops come back with a search warrant—and they will—we need to make sure there’s nothing here that connects Dante to anything illegal.
No paperwork, no weapons, nothing that could be used against him.
” Angelo’s expression was deadly serious.
“I know where Dante keeps things. I can get rid of anything problematic before they show up.”
My mind reeled. This was evidence tampering. Obstruction of justice. All the things I’d been raised to believe were wrong. But this was Dante. My husband. The man I loved.
“Angelo…” I said slowly, looking up at him as the panic threatened to overtake me. “I need you to tell me the absolute truth right now.”
“Anything.”
“Are the Bensons dead?”
Angelo reached out, his hands resting on my shoulders. “Last thing I knew, they were alive.”
I nodded, feeling the tiniest bit of relief. “Alright. Do it,” I said, the words coming out steadier than I felt. “Whatever you need to do in the house, just do it.”
Angelo nodded and headed inside without another word. I followed him, watching as he moved through our tiny house with purpose, opening drawers and checking behind furniture. He pulled out Dante’s laptop first, tucking it under his arm.
“This goes to the main house,” he said. “Your dad has a safe, right?”
“Yeah, in his office.”
“Good. Anything sensitive on here needs to disappear.” He moved to the bedroom next, and I trailed after him, feeling useless. He checked under the mattress, in the closet, behind the dresser. When he found Dante’s gun in the nightstand, he pulled it out and checked the serial number.
“This one’s clean,” he muttered. “Registered properly. They can have this one if they want it.” He set it back carefully. “But if there are any others...”
“There aren’t,” I said. “At least, not that I know of.”
Angelo gave me a look that suggested Dante probably had more weapons stashed somewhere, but he didn’t press. Instead, he moved to the small desk where Dante had been doing paperwork. He rifled through the files, pulling out several folders.
“These are ranch documents,” he said, scanning them quickly. “Nothing incriminating. But this...” He held up a manila envelope. “This has to go.”
“What is it?”
“The contract for the ranch loan and your marriage.” He tucked it under his arm with the laptop. “If they think you’re complicit in anything, or if they can prove the marriage was coerced...” He trailed off, but I understood the implication.
If they could prove Dante had forced me into this marriage, I’d lose my spousal privilege. I’d have to testify against him. And anything I knew could be used to put him away for the rest of his life.
“Are there other copies?”
“No,” Angelo replied, glancing down at the folder. “Enzo ordered Dante to send copies so the prenup could be filed officially in case you ever turned on him.” He looked up at me. “But Dante never did it.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. He never said.” Angelo led me back to the kitchen. “But I think he wanted to give you a chance. To see if something could grow between you.”
I stared at the folder in Angelo’s hands, my throat tight. Dante had kept this from his father. Had protected me even when I’d hated him, even when I’d made it clear I wanted nothing to do with this marriage.
“He could have filed this at any point,” I said quietly. “Could have held this over my head forever.”
“But he didn’t.” Angelo met my eyes. “That’s who Dante is, Nick. He’s not the monster Caruso wants everyone to think he is.”
I wanted to believe that. God, I wanted to believe it so badly it hurt. But doubt crept in at the edges, whispering questions I didn’t want to ask.
“Angelo,” I started, then stopped, not sure I wanted to hear the answer. “Has Dante ever killed anyone?”
Angelo’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes. He was quiet for a long moment, weighing his words carefully.
“I’m not gonna lie to you,” he said finally. “Dante’s done things. Things he’s not proud of. Things that were necessary in our world.” He paused. “But murdering an entire family? Kids? That’s not him. That’s never been him. He’s not a killer.”
It wasn’t exactly the reassurance I’d been hoping for, but it was honest. And right now, I needed honesty more than I needed comfort.
“Okay,” I said. “What do we do next?”
Angelo pulled out his phone. “I call Mr. Valenti. You go talk to your family. Make sure they understand what’s at stake here.”
My stomach twisted. “My parents will back him up. But Heather...”
“Like I said, leave Heather to me.” There was something in Angelo’s voice that made me look at him sharply. “I’ll handle her.”
“How?”
“Does it matter?” He was already dialing, the phone pressed to his ear. “Just trust me, Nick. I’ve got this.”
I wanted to argue, wanted to demand he tell me exactly what he planned to do. But the phone was ringing, and I could see the tension in Angelo’s shoulders as he waited for someone to pick up.
“Mr. Valenti,” he said, his voice taking on a formal tone I’d never heard from him before. “We’ve got a problem.”
I left him to it, heading out of the tiny house and back toward the main house. My legs felt unsteady, like the ground beneath me had turned to quicksand. Everything had been so perfect just an hour ago. Dante and I checking fences, planning our future, talking about expanding the cattle operation.
Now he was in the back of a police car, heading to God knows where, facing charges that could put him away for life.
The main house loomed ahead, and I could see my mother through the kitchen window. She was washing dishes, her movements automatic and practiced. My father would be in his office, going over the books like he did every afternoon.
And Heather... Heather was probably in her room, completely unaware that the man she hated was being arrested for murder.
I took the porch steps two at a time and pushed through the front door. My mother looked up from the sink, her expression immediately concerned.
“Nick? What’s wrong? You look—”
“Where’s Dad?” I interrupted. “I need both of you. And Heather.”
Mom dried her hands on a dish towel, her worry deepening. “Your father’s in the office. Heather went out riding about twenty minutes ago. Nick, what happened?”
“Just get Dad,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “Please, Mom. It’s important.”
She didn’t ask any more questions, just headed for the hallway. I heard her knock on the office door, heard the low murmur of voices. A moment later, both my parents emerged, my father’s face creased with concern as they stepped into the kitchen.
“What’s going on, son?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to explain, but the words stuck in my throat. How did I even begin to tell them this? That Dante had been arrested for murder. That everything we’d built over the past few months could come crashing down.
“Dante was arrested,” I finally managed. “A detective from New Jersey showed up. Said they have evidence connecting him to the murders of a family called the Bensons.”
My mother’s hand flew to her mouth. My father went very still, his expression unreadable.
“The whole family?” Mom asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Even… Even the children?”
I nodded, feeling sick all over again. “Angelo says Dante didn’t do it. That he couldn’t have. But the detective seems pretty convinced he’s got his man.”
Dad moved to the kitchen table and sat down heavily. “What does this mean for us? For the ranch?”
The question hit me wrong, made something hot and angry flare in my chest. “What does it mean for us? Dad, Dante could go to prison for the rest of his life!”
“I know that, Nick.” His voice was sharp. “But we need to think practically here. If Dante goes away, what happens to our arrangement? To the loan? To this ranch?”
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed, clutching the manilla envelope so hard it crackled in my hand. “Is that really all you care about?”
“That’s not fair,” Mom interjected, her voice gentle but firm. “Your father’s just trying to understand the situation.”
“The situation is that my husband—” I stopped, realizing what I’d said. But I didn’t care. Not anymore. “That my husband is being framed for something he didn’t do. And we need to help him.”
My father studied me for a long moment. “You really believe he’s innocent.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes. I do.”
“Even knowing what he is? What his family does?”
I met his eyes steadily. “Even knowing that.”
Dad nodded. But it was my mother that spoke. “You love him, don’t you?”
I felt the tears well up in my eyes again. But there was no point in denying it anymore. Not when everything was on the line.
“Yes, I do,” I replied. “And I’d like to have him back.”
There was a long silence before my father cleared his throat. “Alright. What do we do then?”
I placed the envelope on the table between us.
“This is the only signed copy of the prenup I signed and the only signed copy of the contract accepting the marriage as repayment.” Their eyes went wide as they stared.
“Dante never sent copies or had them filed with the family lawyer. If I destroy these, we’re free and the cops can’t prove Dante forced his way into our lives.
But if I keep them, Dante goes to prison for life and the Valenti’s entire operation is possibly ruined. ”
Seconds slipped by, marked only by the clock ticking on the wall. Nobody spoke. Nobody hardly breathed.
“This is your choice, Nicky,” my father said at last, breaking the silence. “What do you need from us?”
I swallowed hard knowing there was no going back. “I need you to light the wood stove,” I said, holding up the contracts. “And make it hot.”