Rocco and Mandy: A Red Team Wedding Novella (Book #6.5) (7 page)

“Okay.”

Kimble nodded, then started walking again. They’d made an entire loop around the lower yard and were starting on a second pass. “I understand you were injured in Afghanistan. Let’s talk about that.”

For the next three loops around the yard, Rocco told him about the last few months of his mission, leaving out identifying details like locations and names and directives. They talked about what Kadisha did, though he didn’t say why. He didn’t know why. Was Kadisha’s hatred of him so much greater than her love of her village and the baby they were having?

“I wonder if you’ve regained all of your memories surrounding your wife and what happened? Sometimes the things we most need to remember are the very things we suppress and hide from ourselves.”

Rocco shrugged. It had been a major breakthrough when he remembered Zavi had survived the blast. He didn’t think there was more than that.

“How do you feel when you reexamine the events of those days?”

“Like I’m standing in a concrete box and the walls are closing in.”

“Like a coffin.”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t we stop here.” They’d returned to the stairs leading to the upper lawn. “Tomorrow, we’ll work on releasing all of your memories, good, bad, indifferent. We’ll find a way to loosen the stranglehold you have over your mind so that you can let it go.”

Rocco held out his hand. “Thanks, doc.”

Kimble’s grip was tight. “We do have a deal, right? You don’t do anything until your affairs are in order. And I hold on to your bullet until you need it, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Where is your bullet?”

“Kit’s got it.”

“Good. I want to take it with me.” He reached into his pocket and handed Rocco his own worn bullet. “Here’s mine. Take care of it for me. I’m going to want it back.”

* * *

Mandy walked outside. The heat of the afternoon had cooled off considerably now that the sun was getting lower. Her stomach felt tight at the thought of returning to Ty’s for supper. She didn’t know if it would be easier on Zavi if she stayed away or better for him to see her and know she was still a part of his life.

She’d been utterly worthless after leaving earlier in the day. She’d cried for hours. Her eyes were puffy even now. The baby was hungry, which made her feel like she was starving. She hadn’t eaten at lunch, and now she was so hungry, she was nauseated.
 

Cord Ryker, Ty’s dad, was walking toward the used truck he’d bought recently. He waved her over. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone, lest her tears start up again, but she reluctantly met him halfway between their houses.

“Heading over to dinner?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll give you a ride.”
 

Mandy nodded, then walked with him back to his truck.
 

“Heard about the drama over there this morning.” Cord’s grin crinkled the corners of his eyes.
 

Mandy shot a look at him, wondering what his take on it was. “One of my worst days ever.”

“Sorry you’ve gotten sucked in to the darkness of all this mess.”

Mandy looked up at his kind face. “I just wish I understood what Rocco was going through.”

“Taking a stand is a brave thing to do.”

She winced. “But is it the right thing?”

“Guess time will tell. For now, let’s go get you fed.”

Mandy’s tension deepened as they pulled into Ty’s place and parked out front. Cord walked a little ahead and held the door open for her. Zavi saw her first. He came running over. “Mom! You came back.”

Mandy knelt down to hug him. She looked beyond him to the people in the living room. No Rocco in sight. But Wynn was there, watching them. Zavi released his tight hold of her, but didn’t let her go. “I told you I’d be back for supper,” she said. “And to put you to bed, if Papa doesn’t. Speaking of whom, where is your dad?”

Zavi lifted his shoulders. “I think working.”

“Oh.”

Rocco’s son studied her. “The problem is still in your face.”

Her breath hitched, then came too fast. She smiled, trying to redirect her emotions. If she started crying again, she might never stop. “You know why?”

Zavi shook his head.

“Because I’m starving! I’m hungry enough to eat you!” She grabbed him and made nom-nom-nom sounds against his neck. He giggled and wiggled in her hold.
 

When she let him go, he reached up and took her hand, leading her into the living room. “Will you sit next to me at dinner?” he asked.

“I was hoping you’d ask! Of course I will.”

Everyone in the living room was careful to keep up a facade of normalcy, which she would forever be grateful for. Wynn looked nervous, but that was understandable. She’d only recently started as Zavi’s tutor and babysitter—she probably wasn’t ready to be thrust into the middle of so much drama.
 

Shortly after she arrived, Kathy announced dinner. The delicious fragrance of Kathy’s spaghetti and meatballs filled the dining room as she brought serving dishes to the table. There were bowls of noodles and spaghetti squash noodles for those who were watching carbs. A big bowl of salad was handed down the table, as were baskets of garlic bread and bowls of freshly grated parmesan cheese.
 

No one took the seat on the other side of Zavi in case Rocco decided to join them. He didn’t, of course. The phantom of his empty seat was like having a great elephant in the room. Mandy cut Zavi’s food and chatted with everyone as if her world wasn’t in a complete meltdown. Kit and Ivy sent her surreptitious looks, as did Angel.
 

None of them believed her “I’m okay” routine. Not even Zavi.

When dinner was over, Mandy and Greer helped Kathy clear the table, while Wynn and Angel put the leftovers away. Zavi came in and sat at the counter, snagging another mini-cannoli that Ivy had spent the afternoon making. Everything seemed so normal. Mandy looked around the room, thinking they were all blissfully unaware of the great iceberg her ship was about to hit.
 

Waiting for what was coming was killing her.

Zavi wiped his mouth with his hand, then wiped his hand on his chest. “You know what, Zavi?” Mandy said. Rocco’s boy looked up at her as Wynn slipped the cannoli tray away from him. “I think it’s time for a bath and a story.”

Casey brought in another stack of dishes. “Will you get me when you start the story, Aunt Mandy? I love listening to you read.”

“Sure.” Mandy wiped Zavi’s hands, then led him out of the kitchen. She wondered if Kit or Ivy had asked Casey to play with Zavi more to keep him distracted. It was a thought that warmed her heart and eased some of the pressure she was feeling. Having family nearby so that they could help when it was needed was something she’d not had for a very long time. Not until she met Rocco and his team.

* * *

Rocco stood in Mandy’s old barn, watching the sunset. By now, everyone had probably begun dinner. He’d asked Wynn to sit with Zavi and help cut his food if Mandy didn’t come back over. He should have known not to doubt her. She was rock solid. Always. At least until this afternoon when she’d left.
“I need you to pick Zavi and me. I need you to think of us more than you think of your past.”
 

As if he had any choice at all in the matter; he was a father first, and everything else after.
 

He looked at Mandy’s new garden. The pink and orange colors of the sunset softened the hard edges of the newly landscaped space. He hadn’t visited it yet, despite her many invitations to do just that.
 

She’d said it was a memorial garden, but hadn’t said who it memorialized. Maybe her parents or grandparents. He’d watched the construction from his place there in the barn, irritated by all the strangers crawling over her property.
 

He also hadn’t missed how often Angel had hung around. Maybe that was for the best. Mandy would have someone strong and honorable to care for her when he was gone.

As fast as he thought that, his mood soured from bad to wretched.

He hated the idea of leaving, hated thinking about another man touching Mandy and raising his kids.
Any man can raise your kid. That’s her choice,
Angel had warned him
.
Rocco shouted out loud, angered by the decision he faced: be here for his living family, or exit to be with his dead baby.

That was a helluva choice for any man. And it was tearing him in two.
 

Shouting felt good, so he did it again. There was no one to hear him, no one to try to help him. He was beyond help. This was a choice only he could make—the hell with the deal he’d made with Kimble. He remembered holding Zavi earlier that morning, feeling his breath hitch as he lay slumped on his chest, sleeping from the exhaustion his fit had brought. What would Rocco’s exit do to him? Unlike Mandy moving just one house away, when Rocco left, he’d never come back.

Maybe Kadisha hadn’t abandoned their baby in heaven. Maybe up there she was more in touch with her true self, the heart of what mattered.

Shit. Kadisha was still eating his soul.

He fingered Dr. Kimble’s cartridge in his pocket. He wished he hadn’t given his bullet to the shrink. But it wasn’t as if he’d have to ask for it back, despite their agreement. He had a whole box of rounds.
 

Rocco turned from the broken window and went down the rickety stairs. He made his way over to Mandy’s memorial garden in the pale lavender light of the day. The fountain’s gurgle became louder the closer he got, a soothing sound he went toward like a sleepwalker, helpless to fight its pull.
 

There was only one entrance to the circular garden, though until the outer shrubs grew, it could be entered anywhere. Rocco went around to the front so that he wouldn’t upset Mandy by walking through one of the beds. Like it mattered.

Like any of it mattered.

He was going to lose his soul no matter what he chose.

He walked on the pavers that led directly to the center of the garden, where the fountain roared. Little lights illuminated the water from inside the tiered bowls, making it sparkle as it splashed about. The only other light in the small garden was above a plaque that read, “This garden was planted in memory of Kadisha Halim, beloved wife, mother, and daughter.”

Rocco glared at those words. Lies. All of them. He had never loved her. He’d never trusted her. She’d never been a woman who stood true for a cause, whatever that cause, whatever the cost of that cause. She was secretive and manipulative, caring more for her own interests than the well-being of her village or her own children.
 

She was everything he’d been.
 

But unlike her, he’d been true to his mission.
 

And from the hell of their union, two sweet gifts had come. Zavi, and the baby Kadisha had killed when she took her own life and leveled the village.
 

Rocco ripped out the small plaque and tossed it like a spear as far away as he could. He stumbled backward, screaming at the water, but it couldn’t hear him. He took more lurching backward steps, then spun on his heel and left the garden through the bed of little evergreen shrubs.

He hated Kadisha. Fucking hated her. She’d taken his mind, his soul, his baby, and blew them to bits. And it was all his fault. He should never have involved her. She seemed an easy path to what he wanted—her father—and he’d used her, like every man in her life had done. He was no different than Ghalib Halim or Ehsan Asir.
 

He had to pay for his arrogance. He choked on a laugh. He’d thought he could find a way to keep living. He’d thought he could stand in the sunshine again. But he couldn’t. No, he couldn’t.
 

Rocco realized he was back in the safe black hole of the barn. This was all that his life could offer him, because of his arrogance. He’d be half here for Mandy and Zavi, half there for his dead baby. Rocco slid to his knees on the floor.

This was fucking hell. He was sick of the pain in his heart, sick of himself.

He looked over at his trunk. His gun was no longer there. Because of Mandy’s curiosity, he’d moved it to a new hiding place in the rafters, along with the bullets he’d bought for it. Pushing to his feet, he dragged the chair over to the wall and retrieved the box of bullets. He took one out and put the box back, then grabbed it again and removed three more bullets. If his hand shook or he somehow missed, he better have a backup bullet.
 

He reached for his revolver. Holding it in his left hand, the bullets in his right, he felt at war with himself, as if one hand pushed and the other pulled. He did not want to kill himself. He did not want to live alone in a dark hideaway, abandoning everything and everyone he loved. He could not continue this existence.
 

Rocco opened the cylinder and loaded the bullets. Images floated through his mind; beautiful things, they were. Mandy telling him she was pregnant. Zavi sleeping on his chest. Kitano trying to trust him. They were just alike, him and Kitano, except they were opposites, too. Kitano couldn’t be in the confines of a building, and Rocco couldn’t be in the sunshine.
 

They both were owned by their hells.

He had enough bullets for both of them.
 

Moonlight lit the path through the back hills of Mandy’s place in crisp relief. Rocco walked through the shadows of the shrubs. His heart was screaming. Don’t do it.
Don’t do it.
He could almost feel the cool touch of angels on his wrists and hands, their arms wrapping around his chest, as if to pull him back from where he was headed. The wind in the pines made it sound like the angels were crying.
 

Maybe it was just his own sobbing he heard.
 

He touched the hard steel of the revolver in his waistband, its cold, unforgiving outline reassuring. The gun didn’t cry. It didn’t mourn his decision. It would end his pain once and for all, simply and without drama.