Chapter 125

Aldo

Son of a bitch.

Agent Danny Carter. That sneaking little termite that had been slinking around the city like some invisible serpent. He’d been silently gathering information on the Marcello family for God only knows how long.

For a time, he’s been off of Carlo’s radar as well given all the trouble the Rossettis have been causing. Honestly, I’d nearly forgotten about the bastard. That was until now.

And to think he’s narrowed in on his new target. Layla.

My heart dropped into my stomach when he approached her. It made my mind swarm with unsettling thoughts and my blood boiling with anger. Had he been keeping a separate file on her? Why?

She was by no means emotionally stable enough to be answering anyone’s questions—let alone his. The poor woman looked as though she’d just been through hell and these blood-sucking leeches weren’t through with her yet.

What the fuck does he hope to gain from questioning her?

I tried not to grind my teeth. “I don’t think—”

“Fine,” Layla agreed.

What?! Was she being serious??

I snapped my eyes to Layla who refused to even give me so much as a passing glance. Hell, she wouldn’t even look in my direction. Her focus was solely locked on this Agent Carter.

I tried to approach her side. “Are you sure you’re alright to do this?”

Again, Layla ignored me.

“Shall we go now?” she asked him.

My lethal gaze turned back to the federal investigator. The smug fucker actually had the audacity to grin.

“By all means,” he said, gesturing toward the door.

It felt like my chest had filled with lead as I watched my wife leave. It was like I’d been burned. Left behind. Utterly disregarded.

Fuck. She’s not even willing to glance back at me.

I knew a good portion of her anger had to do with the fact that I had chosen to work with Ethan. She and I hadn’t exactly made up after our argument over how Vanessa should be dealt with; so, the two of us were on a rough road as it were.

But this...Knowing that Ethan had brought the police into our business felt like we had entered dangerous waters. I wanted to believe that it was the right call and that it would work out in the end.

However, I had this irrefutable feeling in the back of my mind that all hell was about to break loose.

Layla

I knew nothing about Agent Carter. Unfortunately, I had an ugly feeling that wasn’t the case for him. This man knew who I was—more specifically, he knew about the family I was married to.

From what Carlo had told me in passing, this Agent Carter had been trying to gain information on the Marcello family for quite some time.

None of us were certain how far he’d gotten in his search. Or rather, how much he was able to prove.

I wasn’t even sure what hoped to gain out of talking to me. Agent Carter drove me back to the police station and before I knew it, I was sitting across from him at his desk. While he was getting things ready for this unanticipated conversation, I took the chance to study him myself.

Based on the contents of his desk, he was organized and most likely prided himself on the fact. As far as his appearance went, it was a far cry from either Aldo or Ethan.

He possessed dirty blond hair and eyes that resembled silver coins. His features were slightly softer, more angelic. His voice, on the other hand, sounded gravelly and deep.

“Mrs. Marcello, shall we begin?”

“By all means,” I prompted, tightly.

“How long have you been married to Aldo Marcello?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised that this was his first question. Given the fact that we had just come from a crime scene, I sort of figured that his priorities would have been placed in that particular area.

“About two months,” I answered. “Although, I’ll say it feels much longer than that.”

He jotted down a few notes. “And how would you describe Aldo Marcello?”

I raised a brow and tilted my head. “Hardworking, protective, and naturally possessive.”

“Would you consider him to be a violent person?”

“Violent?”

It didn’t take a lot for a series of short mental clips of my memory recounting the number of times Aldo had pulled his gun out and shot someone. How many times had he actually killed a person in my presence?

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Mrs. Marcello—”

“Did you really ask me to come all the way out here with you just so you could inquire about my husband?” I questioned. “Clearly, he’s the one you’re interested in.”

Agent Carter graced me with a soft smile that turned my stomach. “You’re mistaken, I am very much interested in you. My reasoning for asking about Aldo is mainly because I know quite a bit about you.”

“Oh, is that right? I find that to be very doubtful,” I chuckled.

That amused glimmer never left his eyes. “Shall I prove it then?” I felt like he was baiting me into some kind of trap. I should have demanded that the meeting be put to an end, yet my curiosity was intent on staying.

“You work at the NYC Hospital as one of their leading surgeons for the last eight or nine years. Your skills are devastatingly remarkable and your previous patients have nothing but gratitude and respect for you. But you didn’t always live in New York, though. You came here from Alaska when your son, Eli, was first born.”

The moment he brought my son in, I felt my nerves begin to twist up.

“Before you were married, your name was Layla Bennett. You were brought up by the care of your grandmother most of your life due to the fact that you had, unfortunately, lost both of your parents.”

“That’s enough,” I said sternly. “I can see that you’ve done your homework, Agent Carter. Well done.”

“Call me Danny,” he suggested, tentatively. “Look, I’m going to be transparent for a moment. I know that the Marcello family have been involved in some rather notorious business these last couple of years. Decades even.”

“So what? You think that I know any of their secrets or business dealings?” I pushed back.

Danny glanced around the room before leaning over his desk. “You can lie to the police but not to me, Layla. I know what the Marcello family has done and the kind of things that they’re capable of.”

“If that’s truly the case, then why the hell am I here?”

His eyes searched my face. His voice dropped low in his throat. “Call it ‘curiosity’. You're a doctor, a goddamn surgeon, what the hell are you doing married to Aldo Marcello?”

“Are you fucking for real right now?” I hissed. “You’re a federal agent and yet you spend your time thinking about my choice in men.”

“Only when those men happen to be cold-blooded killers.”

“Sorry, can’t help you there,” I told him.

His tone held a level of severity that made my shoulders pin back. “Are you certain of that?” he asked. “Because I would really hate to make things difficult for you.”

“What the hell does that mean?”