Never Gonna Tell (16 page)

MARCO DOESN’T COME back. I use the outhouse and survive, and then wait for hours alone in the dark. I explore the cabin and find no phone or other way to communicate with anyone. The only thing I can find is a duck call, and I highly doubt the bearded boys of that dynasty are around to come to my aid.

For every hour that passes, my nerves become more frazzled. It’s pitch black outside and deadly silent. My mind betrays me, thinking of every horror movie I’ve seen about a girl alone in the woods. And it never ends well for the girl.

I’m a sitting duck in this cabin if the Calottas are on their way, so facing my fears I take the abandoned flashlight and walk the perimeter of the cabin, braving the dark as I search for help unsuccessfully. There are no neighboring cabins, no lights in the distance, nothing.

I walk the dirt road we drove in on for at least two miles. At this altitude, the temperature drops very quickly. My fingers are frozen and can barely grip the flashlight. I pause, leaning against a tree as I weigh my options. Keep going and risk hypothermia? Go back to the cabin and risk the Calottas being there? Marco said to wait. Should I believe him? Trust him?

I need to turn back. At least the cabin is warm, and the old bed is now very appealing to my tired legs. I can start back at dawn—if I’m not dead by then.

When I arrive back at the cabin, there’s still no sign of Marco or his family, so I throw every blanket I can find on the bed and snuggle in, sighing in relief as I begin to thaw. After several hours, I finally resign myself to the fact that he’s not coming back. I toss and turn before falling into a restless sleep.

At dawn, I awaken to find Marco’s eyes trained on me. He’s sitting in the chair, just watching me sleep.

I bolt up, scanning the room.

“It’s just me. We’re alone. Did I wake you?”

I rub the sleep out of my eyes and sit up. I’m relieved that I’m no longer alone but wary about why Marco is back. “When did you get back? I waited for hours. I—”

“I’m sorry, Reagan,” he interrupts. “There were … I had to deal with some things. It took longer than I expected.”

I’m fully awake now, anger replacing sleepiness. “Are you freaking kidding me? You left me alone in the woods with absolutely no way to contact anyone all night. What if I’d been attacked by a bear or something? My parents are probably worried out of their minds, and Charlie. Oh my god, if Charlie shows up and tells them that I’ve been acting strange all week, they’re going to call the cops for sure and put out an Amber alert. This is going to be so bad.”

“Calm down, Reagan.”

I toss the covers back and stand up. “I will not calm down. Do you have any idea how scared I was last night on my own? Having no clue where I am and no idea how to get in touch with you?”

I want to hug him for coming back and slap him silly for leaving in the first place.

Marco stands up from the chair and walks to the counter where two hot, steaming cups of coffee sit. He hands me one. “I’m sorry.”

I give him the stink eye as I take a sip. “I’m still pissed.”

“I brought doughnuts, too.” He smiles sheepishly and opens the box sitting on the stove.

“Still pissed. But less pissed. There had better be a Boston Cream.”

“I texted your parents last night from your phone. No Amber alerts have been issued. They think you’re staying at Riley Bennett’s house because you were working on an AP History project until really late.”

I choke on the doughnut. “You did what? And with Riley of all people?”

He shrugs. “I thought you’d like the irony.” He swipes a jelly and eats it in three bites. “Now let’s sit down so we can talk.”

I grab a second doughnut and follow him to the living room. “What the hell happened last night?”

“That’s what we need to discuss. I thought about it most of the night, actually. I think I might have an idea of where our lines got crossed.”

That makes one of us. “Well by all means, do tell.”

He sits his coffee down and scoots closer to me. “Reagan, I did not bring you up here to kill you.”

Tears well in my eyes as relief floods through me.

“I didn’t bring you up here to hold you hostage or bring you to my uncle or anything like that. I brought you up here to hide you from them. To protect you from them.” He pauses to hand me a tissue. I take it and dab my eyes before throwing my arms around him, squeezing tight.

After several long seconds, I sit up and let him continue.

“The librarian identified a witness and had the police do a sketch. It didn’t look much like you, but after my uncle saw me talking to you when he came to pick me up, he put two and two together and they figured out who you were. Nicky was going to try to buy your silence, and if that didn’t work, threaten you into keeping quiet. I knew you’d never go for it, and they’d end up hurting you or worse. I overheard my uncle and dad talking and rushed over to get you before that could happen.”

“Are my parents okay? Did your uncle threaten them?”

Marco shakes his head. “They never made it over there. I told them that I saw you with a group of friends in town, followed you, and overheard that you were spending the night at a friend’s house. They’re waiting until you get back to confront you.”

I am dumbfounded. “They’re going to know you lied to them.”

Marco takes my hands into one of his own. “I know.”

“But ... why? Why would you want to protect me? I can put them in jail if I testify. You can go to jail.” I squeeze him tighter.

“I’m already living in a prison. Hell, jail might be a welcome relief at this point.”

My eyebrows furrow. “I don’t understand.”

Marco sighs, setting down his coffee, and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. “When I was ten, my mom left us. She ran off with some guy never to be heard from again. Then a year later, my dad lost his construction supervisor job. It was my Uncle Nicky who kept us from losing the house, losing everything. My dad felt obligated to repay him by doing whatever Nicky told him to do.

“Anyway, my oldest cousin, my Uncle Nicky’s son, hated his dad and wanted out. Out of the family, out of the lifestyle, out of it all. At the time, my uncle was only a bookie who occasionally broke a few bones and at worst, put someone in the hospital for a few days with a concussion.

“Antonio—Tony—went to the police and promised to testify in exchange for witness protection. Vice had been after Nicky for years but never had any proof ‘cause no one would snitch. Tony was their golden ticket.

“The judge issued a gag order, and no one knew who was testifying until a few days before the trial was set to begin, when my uncle’s attorney got ahold of the prosecution’s witness list. My uncle went ape shit. I’ve never seen him so angry. He tore through everything in Tony’s room and broke every piece of furniture. When my aunt tried to calm him down, he gave her a black eye and pushed her down the stairs. No one could talk sense into him. To him, it was the ultimate betrayal.

“Something changed in him. The little bit of good that was left in him was gone. It was extinguished and replaced with the need to become invincible. No one was going to take him down, least of all his son.”

“Oh my God, Marco. What happened to him?”

Marco sips his coffee and shakes his head slowly. “The trial never happened. Tony was found in the trunk of a car that had been set on fire. They had to use dental records to identify the body. The fire burned any forensic evidence, and no one was ever charged with the crime. But we knew. The police knew. Everyone knew. It was my Uncle Nicky. He killed his own son.”

My hands fly to my mouth. I can see Marco trying to hold it together as he swallows down a lump. I scoot next to him, wanting to wrap my arms around him. Emotion swirls in his eyes, and I lean my head on his shoulder.

Marco clears his throat before continuing. “I was twelve at the time. The whole family was scared of him at this point, because if he could do that to his own son, no one was safe from his wrath. We were stuck with no way out. My dad tried to keep me away from him for as long as possible, but when I entered high school and my uncle could start using me to help the betting on the varsity basketball and football games, there was nothing my dad or I could do. I was in. After years of being my uncle’s henchman and without my mom around to soften my dad, he’s pretty much turned as dark as my uncle.”

He turns to face me. “I’d been resigned to the fact that I would have to put up with my family until I turn eighteen and can get out, move away, and never look back. But when they threatened you, I couldn’t sit by and do nothing anymore. I couldn’t let you end up like Tony.”

Silent tears slip down my face. Marco wipes them with the pad of his thumb gently before handing me a tissue. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I promise you’re safe now. No matter what, I won’t let them hurt you.”

I shake my head. “I’m not crying for me. I’m crying for you.”

After a few minutes, I wipe my eyes and walk into the living room to grab a tissue. Marco joins me back on the couch, and I cuddle into his side. Neither of us speaks for a long time as we sip our coffees and contemplate where the hell everything in our lives got so screwed up.

Taking the last sweet sip, I set my mug down and pivot on the couch, crossing my legs as I face Marco. “What do we do now, Marco?”

He lets out a long sigh. “We don’t have a lot of options.”

“I know.”

“It’s too late to turn back.”

“I know.”

“They know I took you. They have to by now.”

“Great,” I mutter sarcastically.

“And they’re going to try to get to us before we can get to the police. Nicky won’t rest until he’s turned over ever rock and leaf to find us—including your parents.” I cringe at the reality of his words. “I’m sure he has everyone on his payroll out looking, and we can’t hide here forever. We need a plan, and a good one.”

“TELL ME ABOUT this cabin. How did you find it? Whose is it? How long can we hide out here?” I’m pacing the length of the house in full journalist mode now: digging for information, putting pieces together, and trying to come up with a solution. Eyeing a yellowed magazine on an end table, I flip through it to find a fairly empty page to write on and look around for a pen. I always think better when I can write notes down.

Marco grabs a chair from the kitchen, flips it around, and straddles it, resting his forearms on the back. “It belongs to my mother’s father. I haven’t seen my mother since I was ten, and I don’t think my dad is even aware that I know about its existence. We’re safe here for a little while longer.”

His words should reassure me, but something is nagging at me. A slight pull at the back of my mind, like I’m forgetting something. I begin to doodle on the magazine cover, running through a checklist in my mind while hoping it’ll come to me. “Where did you go last night? Did anyone see you?”

“I drove around mostly. I stopped once for gas and once for coffee and doughnuts this morning.”

“How did you pay?”

Marco huffs. “With cash. I’m not an idiot.”

“I had to ask.” I shrug. Tapping my pencil mindlessly on the edge of the table, I suddenly see his cell phone out sitting on the table beside the couch. “What about GPS? Could they track us using the GPS in your phone or car?”

He shakes his head. “I disabled both before coming back to get you.”

I turn to face him, biting the end of the pencil. “Who kept calling you last night?”

Marco grinds his teeth before spitting out, “My good-for-nothing, rotten father.”

Yikes, there’s some tension there. “Did you call him back? Why was he calling you?”

“The librarian told the police it was a high school kid who was a witness and she had the damn sketch artist make a rendering. Dad’s been having me go through yearbook pictures to try to identify you.” He cracks his knuckles. “I’ve been blowing him off, but he and Uncle Nicky are getting impatient, and they won’t leave me the hell alone about it.”

“That’s not good,” I mutter.

“No, and it gets worse. They found out anyway, got their hands on the sketch, and my Uncle Nicky recognized you from when he picked me up from school. They know I know you. My dad is furious. I tried to tell him it was a coincidence, that there are hundreds of girls at our school, and I have no clue who you are, but Nicky doesn’t believe in coincidence. He wants me home to ‘answer some questions,’ which I know is just another beating.”

It dawns on me. “The bruises. The black eye.”

He nods in acknowledgement and gives me a half-smile. “Worth it to keep you safe.”

I want to kiss him all over again. “Marco…”

He winks at me, lightening the mood momentarily. We plop down on the couch, each lost in our thoughts for a while. As comfortable as our silence is, the worry about what happens next begins to creep back in. “Do you think your dad or uncle would threaten my parents? Use them to get to us?”

“Not at this stage of the game. It’s far too risky, especially with who your mom is. Right now, they’re probably more concerned with finding us to keep you quiet. They most likely still think they can bring me back into the fold; they won’t go after your parents before we can get to the FBI. You can relax a bit, Reagan. I promise, if I didn’t think it was safe to be here we’d be gone.”