What I Fight For: A Bad Boy Military Romance (Easy Team Book 1) (31 page)

              “He said that the moment I stepped off the compound, he would call his men at the hospital to cut my brother’s throat.” Halle gasped but I hardly heard it. The memory was still fresh in my mind.

              “You’re a Desmond, boy,” Roy had growled at me, slamming his fist on his desk. “That means you follow
my
orders. And no Desmond is a deserter. No Desmond is a fucking pussy. You try to sneak out of this Family and I’ll kill that weak piece of shit you call a brother.”

              I had stood before him, my hands still covered in my brother’s blood, as I stared at him with a roiling hatred that went beyond anything I had ever felt before.

              I should’ve expected the answer. I was too valuable to the Family. I was too good. My skills that I had developed to keep me safe from Roy’s bruising punches and sadistic training methods had become my prison walls. He couldn’t afford to lose someone like me. And damn it all, he would do anything to keep me here.

              “But he knew I wouldn’t just stay because he told me to,” I said. “So he said he’d allow my brother to leave. He could leave and live a life removed from the Desmond Mafia and would be safe and taken care of as long as I knew my role.”

              As long as I kept working and killing and playing for the Desmond Family.

              For Roy.

              “So your brother is safe,” Halle said after a pause.

              “For now,” I said. How safe can anyone be when connected to the Desmond Family? And from the way Halle was worrying her bottom lip, I can tell she was thinking the same thing.

              “But he’s so far away,” she said softly. “You can’t even visit him regularly.”

              “But they have some of the best therapists for someone like him.”

              Her brow creased. “Someone like him?” she asked, confused. “A crime lord’s son?”

              “A paraplegic.”

              Halle’s mouth dropped open.

              “The shots severed his spine,” I explained. “He’ll never walk again.”

              A son crippled by his own fucking father. The blood of many were on Roy Desmond’s hands but the blood that shone the darkest was the blood of his youngest child.

              A silence of rage, confusion, fear, doubt, horror mingled between us. No words were said as we were left to our own thoughts.

              When I stood up, Halle nearly jumped in surprise, so lost in her own thoughts she had been.

              I headed towards the door but before I could leave, Halle called out, “Wait.”

              I turned.

              She raised those luminous eyes towards me. “Why did you tell me this?” she asked. “Why…” she paused, struggling to explain her confusion. “tell
me
this?”

              I pressed my lips, considering. Then gave a casual shrug. I had wondered that as well.

              “Maybe,” I said slowly, “I just wanted someone to know.” I looked over her heart shaped face enveloped in a cascade of blonde waves. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure someone knew about me and my brother….In case.”

              “In case what?” Halle pressed.

              There was a lot of risk ahead. A lot of danger. I had to tread lightly but even with careful footing, there could still be problems. Fatal problems. I had no guarantees anything was going to work.

              All I could do was try.

              “Just in case,” I said giving her a smile.

              Halle stared at me, clearly worried and confused.

              When I reached the doorway, she called out again.

              “Wait, Marco,” she said.

              I turned once more.

              She paused, biting her lip. Finally she asked, “What’s your brother’s name?”

              I paused. “Jamie,” I answered. “His name is Jamie.”

Chapter
Fifteen
Halle

              “You’re telling me after living under the same roof as the man for weeks, you have nothing new to tell us about Marco Desmond?” Agent Truman demanded, flabbergasted.

              I nodded my head firmly. “He is very suspicious of others and stays to himself a lot. I would draw a lot of suspicion if I were to continually approach him on my own.”

              Agent Truman and Hadfield stared at me through their computer camera.

              I sat still on my bed, keeping my face as calm as possible.

              Of course I had learned a lot about Marco Desmond. More than I had ever even thought possible.

              The memory of Jamie and the pain on Marco’s face as he spoke of his brother crossed my mind.

              But there was a deep, gut feeling that told me none of that should be revealed to the FBI. Firstly, Jamie had nothing to do with the Juarez deal. And after hearing about how much the younger Desmond son had suffered, there was no way that I was no going to risk having him suffer more by possibly losing his only brother.

              But besides Jamie, everything else I’d learned about Marco seemed un-shareable.

              That was silly, obviously. I was an FBI agent sent undercover to do exactly that—dig up facts on Marco Desmond and try to lure him into giving away important details on the upcoming deal.

              But the more time I spent with Marco Desmond, the more I realized that there was something more to this man than his reputation. He wasn’t just brute force or schmoozing womanizer.

              He was sharp, he was calculating, he was rough, he was protective, he was seductive, he was cool, he was powerful, he was tortured.

             
And he was mine.

              The thought hit me like a cold waterfall. But the words rang true as a clear bell in my heart.

              I didn’t know when it happened but I found myself slowly claiming the ruthless hitman as my own. He was mine and I refused to put him up as bait for the FBI. He was a Desmond, true, but he was not Roy Desmond. He was not the cruel monster his father was.

              Marco had literally been beaten into the killer he was today and for the most part, the only reason why he remained a member of the Desmond Mafia was for Jamie.

              I had come into this case, expecting to sift through details like they were a matter of black or white decisions. But instead I had fallen into a world of gray and I realized there was a richer world here in the middle than there was in the extremes.

              The middle was where all the heartache and pain and love and warmth came from.

              Agent Hadfield did his best to give me a once-over through the camera. “I really thought we had picked a good candidate for this job,” he said, clearly referring to my looks. I didn’t even sigh. I was too inured to these comments by now. “It’s disappointing but I guess that’s what we get for not sending in a real field operative.”

              I bit my lip. That one stung.

              I had really wanted to prove myself on this mission. I still did. The image of my father floated in my head, the proud FBI agent of nearly two decades. But I couldn’t compromise my own values to do so.

              I
knew
, instinctually, that turning Marco over was not right. The clipped tones in Agent Hadfield and Truman’s voices spoke to me of their lack of understanding. They were two people who only saw in black and white. There was no gray to them.

              “I can tell you though that Roy Desmond has opened up an account book for me that is in relation to the upcoming deal,” I said. “Half the accounts are based overseas and the other half domestic, all hidden and weaved through their multiple holdings. I can make copies of the records once the money comes in.”

              Agent Truman sighed, raking a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but unable to deny the huge piece of evidence I was offering them. Finally he threw his head back and expelled a huge breath.

              “Fine! Whatever!” he said, throwing up his hands.

              I winced as his loud voice reverberated in my headphones. Although I was sure no one could hear me in my room, I lowered the volume nonetheless. It would be a death penalty if I got caught speaking with the Feds in Roy Desmond’s own house.

              “We have our own good leads anyway to work on,” Agent Truman continued.              

              That threw me. “What leads?” I asked. I was the only field operative on this case as far as I knew.

              Agent Hadfield raised a bushy brow at me. “You didn’t think we’d put all our faith in some rookie blonde, did you?” he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

              I bit my lip, trying not to explode with rage at the injustice I was receiving from my own team. By this measure, the Desmonds were treating more fairly than the FBI.

              “We had a man get in on the inside of the Juarez Family a few months ago,” Agent Hadfield continued. “He’s been giving us regular updates and has been moving up into the inner circles.” He put a hand on his chin, staring at me regardingly. “And only a rookie agent as well,” he added pointedly.

              The comparison was clear.

              I was the blonde bimbo fuckup. This new guy was the rookie success story with the massive balls to prove it.

              “He has information on the deal?” I asked, swallowing the blow to my pride.

              “Yes, he does,” Agent Truman said. “He’s also been able to give some good nudgings to the right people so that the deal goes through smoothly. He’ll be with them when they arrive in the States to close.”

              “He knows the date? There’s a date?” I asked, surprised. Holy shit, this was the big moment. This was it. This was what the whole operation was about.

              Then it hit me in a sudden wave.

              This would be the end of anything I had with Marco Desmond. Whatever it was—attraction, lust, longing—it would all be over after the bust. He would know who I really was and who I worked for. And I just couldn’t imagine he would be too pleased to learn the truth.

              “Yes, he’s a hardworking agent,” Agent Truman said, unable to help himself from throwing another barb at me.

              “In two weeks. Operation Raven will be a go. You’ll be notified once our men are in place for the raid. You are to stay at your location until we have escorted you out. Understood?” Agent Hadfield looked at me through the camera.

              I nodded. “Understood,” I said. As an accounts manager, I would not be accompanying the Desmond Mafia to the deal. I was expected to just manage the books and funds. Once the bust happened, the FBI will probably send a team to the Desmond Family compound to round up any lingering members and to escort me out.

              And that would be the end of it.

              That would be the end of my mission.

              And the end of my time with Marco.

              I was about to shut my laptop when Agent Truman piped up again, asking in a casual offhand voice, “Oh and one more thing, Agent Margot. Do you happen to know if there have been any changes in the holdings for Marco Desmond?”

              Something cold slipped down my back.

              Were they asking about the transfer of holdings that Roy had requested of her? They had asked about Marco’s holdings once before but now to ask again….There was no reason to.

              This had no bearing on the Juarez deal. I should know. I worked in fraudulent accounting before being assigned to this case.

              Why were they so interested in Marco’s holdings?

              “No,” I said, truthfully. Marco had been assigned some jobs that had kept him away. There had been moments that I could’ve broached the subject again but I hadn’t. The paperwork had been drafted and everything was ready but I just hadn’t said the words to him yet.              

              And now I wondered if that was maybe a good thing.

              “Oh,” Agent Truman said, his face showing some confused disappointment. “Fine then. Till next time, Agent Margot.”

              The line went dead.