A Love Most Fatal (Morelli Family #1)

12. Vanessa

12

VANESSA

Nate remains silent for the whole ride to my house, and I’m not sure if that’s because he’s angry and traumatized or because he’s trying not to heave all over my leather back seat. When I peer at him through the rearview, he’s just petting the ugly little dog’s head as we drive, a numb look in the near distance.

Leo got him to change from his work outfit that was stained with what looked like coffee and throw up into a mismatched hoodie and sweatpants—but his face is ghostly. I’d think he was sick with the flu if I didn’t know better.

He’s a mess.

I’m a mess. Shaken. Leo knows it too, though he’s wise enough not to mention it. He didn’t question me when I rushed into the car, or when I sped across the city weaving through many a bus lane to get to Nate. I’ve always loved this about Leo; when it counts, he listens. So, when I told him to help Nate pack a bag and get him to the car, he didn’t question that either. Lockdown or not, the math teacher was coming with us.

I surveyed the grisly scene in the bathroom while they packed. I allowed myself to cry a total of four tears before I squared my shoulders and took a closer look at the work done to Tony. Sweet, loyal Tony, who was exceptional at chess and who loved his family deeply.

It was a butcher job, fast and hideous, someone had slashed through Tony’s artery first before the work on his torso. There was no obvious calling card as to who did this, no “X” on his neck, no slashes to the face, no note, just the nightmare of one of our best guys cut to ribbons in defense of someone who isn’t even part of the family.

This is how his parents will see it, at least.

I have an intense urge to flee the country at the fact that I’ll have to pay his parents a visit this afternoon to break the news. I don’t have time to think about what I’ll say yet, not when I still don’t know what the hell to do with the shivering man and sleeping dog in my back seat.

My eyes gravitate toward him through the mirror again, and when his gaze clashes with mine, I nearly jump.

“My classes,” he says. “It’s the last week of school, I need to get a sub.”

Leo clears his throat and turns to look at the distraught, greenish man. “Willa called the school.” His voice is gentle. Leo is a scary dude, but he’s always had the better bedside manner of us.

Nate and I make eye contact again before I look back to the road.

“Where are we going?” Nate asks.

“My house,” I say. “You’ll be safe.”

“For how long?”

“Until we figure out who came after you,” I say. For my sake, I pray that it will be brief.

His expression curdles into a glare. “It was a message for you, wasn’t it?” Leo and I are quiet, which I suppose is answer enough because Nate goes on. “Just what the hell kind of work do you do?”

“It’s sensitive,” Leo says, which earns a scoff from Nate.

We will tell him. At this point, we have to. He’s in too deep, and for as much danger as I’ve already put him in, it would be worse if he was kept in the dark. I’m not looking forward to his blatant judgment, though. He already looks at me like I’m vermin and he is leagues above me.

Traffic is stop-and-go as we make our way across town and it’s just past nine in the morning by the time we pull through the gate. There’s a sharp ache just behind my eyes in my skull, but I can’t take the day off. I have seven meetings I’ll need to rearrange.

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know later,” I say as I pull into the garage beneath the house. I wonder what it looks like to him, the manicured lawn, the heavy trees surrounding the property, the garage, the fleet of vehicles. Growing up here, the home has always been a comfort to me, a sanctuary where we could be ourselves, but I wonder if it feels cold and intimidating to him.

“What about my place? What about?—”

That haunted look returns to wash over his face and his lips press into a hard line.

“Someone will be by to clean your apartment today. If you want to move, we will help you relocate to another apartment when this is all over and will maintain your expenses in the meantime.”

“Jesus,” Nate mutters and swings his legs out of the car, still holding the dog. He doesn’t put it down as Leo retrieves the two duffels from the trunk.

I lead them into the house, aware of every picture on the walls, the marble floor tiles, the way there’s no pile of sneakers by the door—I compare every immediate detail to his lived-in apartment, a place that will probably never be comfortable for him again after seeing what he did.

We move in a line down the hallway, past the kitchen where Mary and Mom are still eating breakfast, and to the base of the stairs.

“Welcome to our home,” I say because Mom has poked her head around the corner and will flay me herself if I forget my manners so thoroughly. “Leo will help you get settled in upstairs and we’ll talk when I get back later.”

“When?”

I look at my watch. “Later,” I say again. “Tonight. Someone will be up with lunch in a few hours unless you’re hungry now?”

“And you’ll be doing what?”

“Working,” I say because he probably doesn’t want all the details and even if he does, I don’t have the patience nor composure to give them to him.

“Ah let me guess, murder? Money laundering, maybe? Selling drugs to children? What’s on your docket?”

“Meetings,” I correct.

“ Great ,” Nate says, but it’s dripping with derision. He leans closer to me, not close enough that I can smell him, but close enough that I’m reminded how green his eyes are, dark wells full of ire. “Well, you just let me know when you’re able to pencil me into your busy schedule. I’ll be here.”

Leo’s face is impassive, but I know if I peer down the hall at my mom, a smirk will be scribbled across her face. It’s her way; she thinks people don’t talk to me like this enough, which is admittedly the reason we’re in this mess to begin with. I wanted to feel normal for one singular evening. I wanted to go to a wedding and lose myself in a room of strangers and pretend I was a woman who someone could talk back to without fearing for their life.

And now, this.

As if he has any idea where he’s going, Nate starts trailing up the stairs, effectively dismissing himself.

I roll my eyes before inclining my head for Leo to follow him before Nate can start opening doors or letting the dog piss on my mom’s carpet.

When they’re out of sight, I look down the hall at where Mary and my mom stand looking amused.

“Don’t even start,” I warn, and then head for my office.