Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
“Do you remember how it took a week for them to get the bloodstains out of the marble grain?”
“I do.”
“And—”
“Cara,” Tommas murmured quietly.
For the first time since he exited the house—because she hadn’t even looked away from the steps then despite the fact he stepped down them—his sister glanced up at met his stare. There, he found the tears ready to fall staring back at him. One blink, and they’d be tracking lines down her cheeks.
“Why didn’t anybody pay for that?” she asked. “Everything you all stand for—an eye for an eye. And nobody answered for her, Tommas.”
“Would you even want them to?”
Because even if he could make someone answer for the death of Cara’s twin—his own blood—he wasn’t sure that’s what she really wanted. Cara had long since settled her role in this life; obviously, because she’d married a made man who eventually took over his own family. That didn’t mean she wanted to ask for someone else’s blood to be spilled because of her own pain, did it?
It took Cara a moment to respond. Her answer was exactly as he thought it would be. “I don’t know, Tommy.”
Yeah.
Him, either.
“I have questions, though,” she added, “but I don’t think they’re ever going to get answered.”
“Depends on the question.”
Cara turned back to stare at the steps again. “Who pulled the trigger—why?”
“I have those answers.”
In a flash, her head turned back to him. Fast enough to make him stand a little straighter. Her eyes widened, nailing him to the spot. He could hear the answers that wanted to rapid fire right out of her mouth.
Who.
Tell me who.
Why.
Tell me all the whys.
Before she could say anything at all, Tommas said, “I know who killed her. Who really did it—not all the rumors or assumptions that people in the Outfit have. No, I know the truth. Every last fucking detail. All the whys and hows and anything in between that probably didn’t even matter. I know it all. I only know it because people who love me felt they needed to share that secret because they couldn’t stand the guilt of knowing otherwise.”
Cara’s chin quivered. “Is the person—”
“Gone.”
She didn’t ask how.
Instead, she asked, “Was it even supposed to be her that day?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter because it was.”
Cara turned back at stared at the steps again.
She didn’t ask who.
She didn’t ask anything else.
Instead, she said, “Sit with me for a bit?”
“Absolutely. You don’t ever have to ask.”
Gian and Cara | Guzzi Legacy
Twins
The thing about toddlers?
They never stopped moving.
Cara thought the sight of Marcus darting around the living room like he was a speeding bullet was not helping her morning sickness. At all. She didn’t remember being this sick with Marcus when she was pregnant, but as everyone liked to point out to her, each pregnancy was different and she couldn’t expect this one to be the same as her first.
Shame, really.
She would much rather go back to puking once a day than five times a day. Hell, she hadn’t even gained very much weight in her first ten weeks of pregnancy. She thought maybe a pound or two ... but nothing. The constant sickness meant it was hard to keep anything down so she could gain a bit of weight.
“Ma!”
Cara stared at the ceiling in an attempt to soothe the way her vision swam. She seriously didn’t think she would be able to make it in time to hit the bathroom if the little bit of bagel she had been able to swallow down decided to make its appearance known when it came back out. Laying back on the couch, she prayed Gian got home sooner rather than later because Jesus ... she just needed to sleep, or something.
Just keeping her eyes open made her want to vomit.
“Ma!”
“Marcus, Ma is sick.”
She turned her head, keeping a hand on the cool cloth currently covering her forehead to find Marcus was standing right next to her. She jerked a bit, surprised the toddler had managed to move that quietly. He wasn’t exactly known for being a quiet kid, after all.
Marcus frowned, and put a hand out to touch his mother’s cheek. Cara smiled, the action as sweet as could be, and ignored the stickiness on her son’s hand. Probably from that arrowroot cookie he’d been toting around for half of the morning. “Ma sick?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“Sorry, Ma.”
“It’s okay.”
“Doctor?”
Cara laughed a bit, and nodded. “Yeah, Ma is going to see the doctor later. And you’re coming too.”
Gian had decided that, actually. Cara had been more than willing to tough out these first twelve weeks because the sickness should have waned a bit, and got better toward the end of her first trimester. That’s even what that doctor said, too. But here she was, nearing the eleventh week, and it hadn’t gotten better at all. If anything, it just got a hell of a lot worse as each day passed.