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15

DANTE

T he feel of Lark in my arms, rainwater dripping from her hair, made something in my chest tighten. We’d barely made it inside when Tank appeared, his expression a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“I assume there was a tactical reason for staying exposed on the dock during a thunderstorm?” he asked dryly.

I set Lark down but kept one arm around her waist. “Tactical reconnaissance of lake visibility during adverse weather conditions.”

“Right.” He didn’t bother hiding his grin. “Lark, your grandmother’s been asking for you.”

The mention of Barbara sobered us both, knowing we’d soon have to tell her about the DNA tests and results.

“I should change,” Lark said softly, squeezing my hand before heading toward her room. I watched her go, already missing her warmth against me.

“So,” Tank said once she was out of earshot. “Alice found a match to your DNA in the criminal database.”

“And?” I asked, running my hand through my wet hair.

He handed me a tablet.

“Joseph Rossetti,” I muttered the name of the man whose genetic profile was close enough to mine to suggest he was my biological father and whose surname—that of the Castellano family’s mortal enemy—told a chilling story on its own.

Studying his photo, I couldn’t say I looked any more like him than I did Vincent Castellano Sr. Both men were of Sicilian descent with dark hair and eyes. His height and weight, listed with other vital statistics below the mugshot, were close to mine, but both were average.

However, the words written on the next line sent chills up my spine. “Identifying marks: a crescent-moon-shape birthmark on the inside of left foot, close to heel.” I had one identical to it. The size stated was similar to mine as well.

Was that what had tipped Vincent Sr. off that I wasn’t his son? It seemed unlikely he would know that Joseph possessed a similar mark. But if the birthmark was what had clued him in, was that the reason the man had been shot execution-style, according to the statement beneath his description?

“Grit’s contact at the bureau flagged something interesting. The DNA evidence was collected during an investigation into organized crime activities around Great Sacandaga Lake. This wasn’t the only similar-style murder that took place in the summer of 1998. That timing work with anything else we know?”

“When my mother seemingly disappeared.” I thought about that period of my life and the sadness and fear I’d felt. Based on everything I’d discovered in the last few years about the crimes committed by my “father” and brother, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn she’d also been murdered. I rubbed my chest at the thought. It wasn’t the first time in my life I’d suspected that was the case, but whenever I allowed myself to really consider the possibility, the pain I felt was the same.

“There’s one other thing about 1998.” Tank’s tone was hesitant, but insistent as well.

I thought it over for a minute, then what he was referring to hit me like a punch to my gut. “It’s when Lark was born.”

He nodded.

The ramifications of that raced through my head. Jesus, had her mother also been murdered? She’d said she received birthday cards from her, but had she, really? Or had her grandmother made her think she had?

Barbara Gregory’s strange behavior made more sense. Was this what she was hiding? But why would she?

As far as Lark was concerned, she was an adult, not a child. If her mother was dead, it was time she knew it. Yes, it would be soul-crushing, but it was wrong to continue to keep it from her.

“Get me everything you can on all murder investigations during that period. And, Tank? Be discreet. If my brother finds out we’re looking into this?—”

“He probably already knows.” Tank’s expression was grim. “This feels like a game of chess where he’s been setting up the board for years.”

“Then, it’s time we changed the rules. By the way, who else knows about my link to Rossetti?”

“Alice and Admiral. Otherwise, no one besides me and, now, you.”

“Let’s keep it that way for the time being.”

“Roger that,” Tank responded at the same time his phone vibrated. “Fuck,” he muttered after looking at a message on the screen.

“What?”

“You and Lark had company.” He turned the phone so I could see it. A photo of a boat like the ones spotted last night. While it was headed in the opposite direction, the damage was likely already done.

“When?” I asked.

“While the two of you were still on the dock.”

“I need to change,” I muttered, walking away while processing both what Lark and I being detected and the circumstances of my birth meant. My brother had to know, but why hadn’t he ever told me? Had he feared I’d jump ship and claim ties to the rival family? Given my biological father was murdered when I was six years old, I wondered if the Rossettis even knew I shared their blood.

As with my mother’s disappearance, I could see him keeping the secret as long as Vincent Sr. was still alive, but it had been years since he died. Surely, in that time, my brother had considered ways he could use the information against me. It was his MO.

There was something else I was missing, and whatever it was, led my brother to believe he held all the cards. All I had to do was think like he did, something I hated to admit I’d gotten good at.

Hoping to avoid a conversation with anyone else, I raced up three flights of stairs to the bedroom Alice and Admiral had so graciously offered for my use, removed my wet clothes, and got in the shower, letting the steaming-hot water pummel the muscles of my neck, shoulders, and back. It was where I held all my tension, and right now, it felt like the sinew had turned to stone. A solid workout would do me a world of good as would a long run to clear my mind. I doubted I’d have time for either.

I hadn’t been out of the shower long enough to do more than towel myself dry and get partially dressed when my phone buzzed with a text from McKinney. Judge Hellerstein extended the recess until a week from Monday. The relief that flooded through me was immediate. I’d been dreading leaving Lark, especially now that more questions were coming in than answers.

A couple of minutes later, a second message came through, this one from Grit. The natives are getting restless in Gloversville, it read. The Rossetti, Belcastro, and Mazzeo families are jockeying for a piece of the Castellano pie.

That he’d mentioned Rossetti first was indicative of how deep the hatred between our families ran. And, while I wasn’t surprised to hear the struggle to claim power had already begun, with everything it appeared Vincent had been orchestrating from his jail cell, I was relieved to hear the families Grit mentioned weren’t holding back out of fear of Castellano retaliation.

That he’d included the Mazzeo family was particularly interesting. Unless my sources were way off, I didn’t think they had enough firepower to go up against the Rossettis or the Belcastros.

Either way, the news meant measures to keep the families from absorbing the crumbling territories had to be put in place immediately. That there were signs of takeovers in a place like Gloversville meant turf wars were likely already taking place in New York City.

Known players? I asked.

Grit’s response was quick. Mix of old faces and new. Working on IDs, but we confirmed the tattoo Lark spotted was the Mazzeo crest.

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me, remembering that had been my suspicion. When no other messages arrived, I grabbed a long-sleeved shirt, pulled it over my head, then went down to the main level, hoping to find Lark.

The great room was quiet except for the steady patter of rain against the windows. Alice had lit several candles. Their warm glow combined with the roaring fire created pockets of light that pushed back against the storm’s gloom. Scents I was starting to recognize—sage and lavender—lingered from her earlier meditation session with Lark, whose eyes met mine when I approached her and her grandmother. Rather than on the sofa, each woman sat in a chair that seemed worlds apart, given the tension permeating the room.

“Ladies,” I said, nodding my head when Barbara raised her chin and looked up at me.

“My granddaughter told me,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her.

I wondered what and how much, given how different the woman’s posture seemed. It was more rigid, like she was bracing for impact. The flames cast shadows across her face, deepening the lines of worry around her eyes.

“Barbara,” I said quietly. “Do you have any questions?”

She looked up sharply at the use of her first name. “About what this means for my granddaughter? I don’t suppose you have any idea, do you?”

Lark’s eyes widened. “Gram?—”

“I warned you, little bird.”

I moved to stand behind Lark’s chair, one hand resting on her shoulder. Through the windows, lightning illuminated the lake in brief, brilliant flashes.

“The results showed I’m not related to the Castellanos,” Lark said before looking up at me with questioning eyes. I didn’t understand what her grandmother meant any more than she did.

“You should also know there’s evidence that Vincent Castellano and I are half brothers, not full, as I’d believed my entire life.”

The older woman’s face drained of color. Her hands, which she tried hard to steady, began to shake, and her eyes darted to the windows where rain streamed down the glass.

“Gram?” Lark leaned forward. “What is it?”

“Some things are better left in the past.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Not these things,” I said firmly. “Not anymore.”

Barbara was quiet for a long moment, staring into the fire as though it held answers. When she finally spoke, her words were careful, measured. “The past has a way of coming back at us, whether we want it to or not.” Her eyes met mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “Sometimes, the most dangerous secrets are the ones we think we’ve buried deepest.”

“What does that mean?” Lark asked.

Barbara shook her head and reached for her cane. “I need to lie down. These old bones…” She pushed herself up with an effort that seemed more emotional than physical.

Lark stood too. “Gram, please.” Her voice cracked. “Why won’t you tell us what you know?”

She stepped closer and touched her granddaughter’s cheek gently. “You should look ahead rather than behind. There is no future in the past.” Her gaze flickered between us. “Some questions are better left unasked. Some answers are best left unknown.”

“Argh,” Lark groaned. “Why are you being so cryptic?”

We watched her make her way to the elevator without answering, each step measured and careful. Only when she stepped on and the door closed behind her did Lark turn to me, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“She knows so much more than she’s saying. What I don’t understand is why she’s being so belligerent.”

“My guess is she thinks she’s protecting you.” As much as I believed Lark should know if her mother had been murdered, until I had proof, I couldn’t suggest the possibility.

I sat on the sofa and held my hand out. When Lark stood and took the seat next to me, I pulled her close, breathing in her intoxicating scent. “Whatever happened, whatever secrets she’s alluding to—we’ll find the truth.”

She nodded against my chest, then stretched up to brush her lips against mine. The kiss was gentle, a reminder of everything we now knew we could have. But there was an urgency too. Was it the desire we knew we wouldn’t be able to deny much longer? Or was it a fear that time was not on our side?

Outside, the storm had intensified, rain drumming against the windows with renewed fury. The feeling that we were in the eye of a different kind of storm—one that had been building for years—nagged at me. In solitary confinement or not, Vincent had already put several pieces into play on a board we knew very little about.

Lark snuggled her body closer to mine, making me wish we could be alone. Not just for a few minutes, but for hours on end.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“In the boathouse. Alice said she’d be up in a little while and we’d talk about dinner.”

“Talk about it?”

She giggled. “Yeah, not sure what that means. I guess I could look in the kitchen and see what I can find to make. Until now, Bryar has been bringing food over most every night, and when she didn’t, Gram cooked. I don’t think we can rely on that anymore.”

How I longed for a simpler life. One where Lark and I could leave the Kane Mountain Great Camp grounds and go out for dinner on our own, maybe even find somewhere else to stay.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“How much I want to be alone with you without fear that someone will walk in on us at any moment.”

“That sounds really nice, but…”

“You know I’d never suggest you leave your grandmother.”

Lark nodded. “I know. And even if I wanted to, I doubt you’d let me. At least not for very long.”

“We’ll get through this.”

She sighed. “Promise?”

“Promise.” It wasn’t a word I used lightly. Given everything I’d been through in the last few years and the number of times I’d put my life on the line, I had to believe there’d be some kind of reward waiting at the end of all this. More than anything, I hoped it was the kind of simple life shared with Lark that I’d been thinking about a minute ago.