Settling Scores (Piper Anderson Series) (2 page)

“You pulled this off,” Marcario stressed. “Everyone around here is scared shitless of me, but if they only knew what you are capable of, they’d be running for the hills.”

Willow let out a breathy laugh as she took a sip of her drink. “I really appreciate how you helped me. I had no clue what I was doing when I got here. You could have killed me, left me under the Saint Charles Bridge and never looked back. You didn’t have any reason to trust me, much less help me.”

“You’re cute,” Marcario hissed as he clinked his glass against Willow’s. “And I just kept thinking any little white girl who has the balls to meet with me in the middle of the night with a bag full of money pitching the plan you did, is dangerous. I rather have that on my side than come up against you.”

“Please, I wasn’t brave. I was desperate. There’s a difference.”

“True, but it worked. You were right. If I wanted to eliminate my competition and you wanted to eliminate your asshole ex-boyfriend then this was the way to do it. They’re both so damn greedy and arrogant. All we had to do was bring them together, mix in a little money and some drugs and boom, they walked right into the trap. I had my contact tip off the cops about the where and when it will go down,” Marcario whispered as he leaned in toward Willow. “They’ll pick them both up and it’ll be the last we hear from either of them for a long time.”

“Perfect. It looks like we might actually get rid of both of them.” Willow sighed, forcing a smile that shouldn’t be so hard to find considering the good news.

“And then what?” Marcario asked, raising a knowing eyebrow in Willow’s direction.

“Then Brad gets exactly what he has coming to him and so does Big Bo. Neither one of them deserves to be walking the streets.” Willow averted her eyes as she remembered the story Marcario had told her one night about how Big Bo had beat his cousin Gabriella half to death. She knew in that moment that telling him what Brad had done to her would help her cause. It gave them a common purpose. It was the moment she realized she didn’t need to be afraid of him.

“I don’t live by many rules in my life,” Marcario reflected. “I’d never been considered a saint by anyone’s standards, but men who put their hands on women don’t deserve to live, let alone walk free. If this hadn’t worked with Brad, I think I might have hunted the two of them down myself and taken care of them.” Marcario’s face fell stone serious and it acted as a reminder to Willow of who this man really was. His reputation was one of ruthless violence. His kindness toward her was a fluke, and she knew it was important to remember who she was dealing with.

“Well it’s almost done now,” Willow shrugged as she sat back in her chair trying to seem calm and collected about the whole thing.

“Go sing while we wait,” Marcario insisted. He was not shy when it came to getting what he wanted. The only exception was when he regularly professed his desire for Willow, well Claudia really, but they were halfhearted propositions. He wasn’t foolish enough to think she’d ever live in his world or crazy enough to believe she’d be what he wanted.

But even if his attempts were hollow, one thing was genuine. His love of her voice. And she knew why. There were clearly dark moments of his life that were painted all over his body by way of scars. Slashes and jagged marks that told anyone who saw him, he’d been beaten. Ripped up knuckles that said he’d delivered beatings of his own. But her voice calmed him. In a way, it temporarily healed him and so she would get up on the small stage of the bar and sing. Even if no one else in the room cared to hear her, Marcario needed it, so she did.

“Sure.” She smiled as she grabbed her guitar in one hand and rubbed his shoulder with the other as she passed. He was a sexy man, but she knew deep down as long as she was being smart nothing would ever happen between them. He’d become her partner, but it was a healthy respect for each other’s end game that kept this working. If she slept with him, there was a better chance that everything would fall apart.

She made her way to the stage, pulled up the stool and began to strum her guitar. It always made her smile to see Marcario’s face when the first lyrics would escape her mouth. It was like an addict getting a taste of a sweet drug. He’d lounge back and nod his head to whichever beat she was strumming. For a few minutes, a very complicated man looked like he didn’t have a problem in the world. Knowing she was capable of giving him that small peace made her feel powerful.

As the hours passed, Willow felt her nerves fracturing. She needed to hear that all the risk she’d taken, all the time she’d put in was not in vain. Then finally Marcario’s phone rang and he headed for the front door of the bar. Willow leaned her guitar against the wall and nervously followed him outside. She listened to a brief and coded conversation that took place between Marcario and whoever his contact on the other end of the line was. When he hung up, he tucked his phone in his pocket and nodded his head.

“You crazy bitch,” he chuckled. “It’s done. They caught them both dead to rights. Those two fools thought they were so badass that they were untouchable. Damn,” he shouted, snapping his fingers sharply.

Willow sucked in a deep breath and fought back the urge to cry her eyes out. She was only partially successful as a lone tear trailed its way down her cheek. “Good,” she said, biting at her lip to keep her chin from quivering.

“Game over,” Marcario murmured, his dark eyes locking with hers as he moved with determination toward her. “You win.” He brushed back her hair from her face and ran his thumb over the wet path her tear had blazed. Leaning in, he kissed her with heat and force she wasn’t prepared for. It was the first time he’d ever touched her like this. She didn’t pull away from him, nor did she lean in to him. She let him kiss her and to her surprise, after a moment, he softened. The hand he’d clutched to her cheek let up and brushed across the bone of her chin as he took a step back.

“Who are you really, Claudia?” Marcario asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Why?” Willow shot back, staring at her shoes and steadying herself. The kiss, combined with the probing question, had rocked her and she was trying to regain her grip.

“I know that’s not your name, and I know you aren’t some tough chick who doesn’t care about anyone. Tell me who you are.”

“Why?” Willow repeated, now meeting his eyes and ignoring the fact that hers were filling quickly with tears.

“Because part of me is wondering if you and I could run off somewhere and be preppy normal people together instead of this shit. Maybe you go back to your life and I come with you.” Marcario sighed as he ran a finger from Willow’s elbow down to the palm of her hand.

“I don’t have any life to go back to and you wouldn’t give up what you have here. Being the top guy, the money, and the power.”

“You’re right,” he relented, running his hand over his shaved head. “But for some reason I still want to know who you are.”

Willow brushed away the tears before they could fall and turned to head back inside to grab her guitar. “So do I,” she whispered, realizing even if she wanted to tell Marcario who she was, she wouldn’t know where to start. If she knew the answer to that question, she likely wouldn’t be here in the first place.

When she stepped back outside, guitar in hand, Marcario was leaning against the old brick wall of the bar sucking in a long drag of a cigarette.

“I thought you’d be happier than this. Isn’t this what you wanted, Brad going to jail?” he asked, a puff of smoke billowing between his lips.

“I thought I’d be happier than this, too,” Willow admitted as she adjusted her guitar case under her arm. It was the story of her life, she thought to herself.

“That means you’re not done. Don’t tell me there is something out there worse than Brad. Something else you’re chasing. You’re on your own for that. I can’t get caught up in any more of your shit.” He had a look on his face that let her know that wasn’t true. If she asked, he would help her. They both knew it.

“I don’t want to be chasing it, but I can’t get some things out of my head. There was a time in my life when I saw things, and I wonder if I could have done more. I can’t stop wondering.”

“And you think you’re going to do something about it now?”

“I have no clue,” Willow sighed as she stared up at the sky. “I thought this was going to be it. I thought settling this would make me feel…”

“All healed?” Marcario laughed as a puff of smoke escaped his sinister smile. “Good luck kid. You can’t undo things you’ve done. Trust me.”

“You would if you could?” Willow asked, throwing him a sideways look. “You have regrets?”

“Look at me,” he scoffed, tossing down his cigarette and stepping assertively toward her. “You think anyone really wants to live like this? Always looking over their shoulder? Always wondering if their mother’s house is going to get a pipe bomb tossed in the window, or if their nephew is going to catch a bullet because of some twisted retribution shit. Yeah, I’ve got regrets.”

“So get out. With your competition out of the picture in six months, you’ll have more money than you probably ever had. Grab your family and go.”

“You might not know who you are, but I know who I am.” Marcario chanted as he pounded on his own chest. “I was born here. I’ll die here. And not of old age.” Marcario leaned in close to Willow as if he might kiss her again. “Be glad you don’t know who you are yet. It means you have a chance to still be something good. Brad can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt anyone you care about. Maybe you should start looking at what’s ahead of you instead of what’s behind you.”

“If I thought I could outrun it, or force it out of my head, I would.” Willow spoke down toward her shoes afraid to tip her head back and imply she was welcoming another kiss. She didn’t love Marcario. His passionate kiss paled in comparison to what it felt like when her lips had met Josh’s. But tonight she was lonely. She was exhausted and disappointed in herself, in how she was feeling. If he tried to kiss her again, she didn’t think she’d have the willpower to stop him. She’d be following him back to his place, and she’d add to the pile of regrets and stupid choices she’d made over the years. So all she could do was stare at her boots, and pray he’d spare her.

“Then face it and move the hell on. Go be something great. Go sing for people. Use your voice to make them feel the way you make me feel when you sing.” As his lips inched closer to her downturned face she reached into her bag and pulled out a CD she’d made. She knew there was a chance this would be the last time she saw Marcario and she wanted to leave him a piece of herself. The part he loved. Her music.

“Here are some songs, the ones you like the best.”

“How do you know which ones I like the best?” he shot back as he took the CD from her and acted as though this gift didn’t mean the world to him. His tough guy bravado wouldn’t allow honesty in this moment.

“I can see it in your eyes when I sing. Marcario,” she hesitated as she drew in a deep breath, “you can still get out if you want to. It’s never too late. You could be something great too. Don’t stay in this life if it’s not what you want.”

He leaned in, kissed her forehead and pulled her in for a tight hug, one she wasn’t expecting. Did gang members usually hug? He was full of surprises tonight. “You’re wrong, but it’s nice to know someone thinks that about me. Now get out of here before I kiss you in a way that makes you drop that guitar and forget what day it is.”

Willow felt an ache spreading through her heart. Marcario was a complicated man, but he’d been kind to her. A friend and an ally when she didn’t think she wanted or needed one. He’d treated her like family and leaving him tonight was like walking straight into loneliness. Daunting, but she knew the alternative. Just like she’d become what her adoptive parents expected, and what she thought Brad wanted, she would quickly become who Marcario wanted, even if he wasn’t trying to make that happen. She’d fall into his lifestyle; she’d lose any chance of really finding herself if she got lost in him for the sake of comfort.

“Goodbye Marcario,” she mouthed as she walked backward a few steps before turning and hustling away. She needed the extra speed to maintain the courage to leave him.

As she headed back to her apartment, she knew what she had to do next. If she couldn’t silence the past that was fighting its way into her mind then she’d have to face it head on. She’d already started the road map; maybe it was time to follow it.

Stopping at the liquor store was i
mpulsive, not strategic. Willow had pulled the wig from her head and run her fingers through her short blond hair to try to bring life back to it as she rounded the corner to her place. The bottle of rum was a nostalgic choice−her biological father’s drink−and when she twisted off the top, memories flooded back. The spicy smell was often on his breath, even the shape of the bottle, which hadn’t changed all these years later, brought her back to those days. Dark days.

She wasn’t even to the top of the stairs
of her apartment before she was taking the first swig. It had been a while since she’d gotten wasted, but tonight she wanted to sleep. Good sleep had been elusive lately, and tonight she knew she might need to help it along. It was easy to pretend this was a celebratory buzz she was looking for, but that wasn’t true. This was about escaping, numbing. Getting Brad busted hadn’t done it. The act didn’t fill the hole like she thought it would. So tonight, she’d settle for the burning warmth of being drunk, which didn’t take long.