Skipped chapter forty-seven? It was marked PRIVATE. Please refer to Fine Facts at the front of this book for further instructions.

They spent two months sequestered at the Nest, working on the cases with the federal prosecutors. Ultimately, it had come down to Mark's and Bruce's testimony and the mountain of documents they had each uncovered. The paper trails had been laid out with the utmost care so that the defense lawyers could not poke holes at the truth. They were only required to make appearances at Augustus's and Gus's trials. The documentation and other proof in these cases would filter down and be used as evidence for the rest of the charged individuals.

It had been hard for Mark to see Augustus in leg irons and shackles each day. The man looked depressed, frail, and seemed to have aged ten years overnight. He kept his head down, not making eye contact with anyone in the room.

Gus had been a different story. There was an angry and arrogant air about him. He attempted to deflect the blame in his defense by claiming Enzo had bought the weapons from Morris without his knowledge. The videotaped meeting Paul had uncovered during his first few days at the Nest had done its job in setting that story straight.

It hadn't taken long for the jury to find Gus guilty. With Augustus, the deliberations had gone on for four days, but the result had been the same. In Mark's opinion, the latter verdict had been more about the man's long standing reputation, years of living luxuriously by illegal means, and less about evidence linking him to the crime itself. But a father should know what his son is up to right under his very nose, right? Too bad the jurors hadn't known Gus and what he was truly capable of.

Mark was standing in the bullpen of the Nest when word came in. A shot fired from the rooftop of a building across the street from the courthouse had hit Augustus in the chest as he was being moved to the federal prison. The hit looked professional with no evidence of the sniper found.

Augustus was pronounced dead on arrival at the local hospital.

Mark bowed his head when he heard. Those twelve people who had decided Augustus's fate would never know what an intelligent man he had been, or what he had given back to the community. They were not interested in the good inside of what they considered to be a bad man.

Someone was kind enough to wheel over a chair, and he sat to watch the news coverage on the death of the man who was the closest thing he had ever known to a father, at least a caring one. Within minutes a hand slid into his—in all likelihood that same someone had gone upstairs to get her. They didn't speak, there was nothing to say. And as he watched part of his existence unraveling before him, he held on tight to that lifeline. She was his future, his strength. It was time to let go of his past.

"My father was an abusive drunk," he muttered.

Virginia's head whipped around, her face expectant.

One of his earliest memories was of his father yelling across the dinner table at his mother before picking up his plate and hurling it at her head. "I don't remember a time when he wasn't angry. Work, family, money, there was always something that would set him off. He took it out on my mother most of the time."

As her eyes widened, he closed his. "Eventually, it sent her into a massive depression. Most days she would stay in her room. Of course, it only angered him further to come home to no dinner and the house a mess. That's when the beatings started."

"My God," she breathed.

"Julia couldn't take it. When she was sixteen, she moved out to live with the first man who would have her."

"She left you with that monster?"

He swiped a hand down his face. "It's good that she got away. Who knows what would have happened to her if she'd stayed. She begged me to come too, but I couldn't leave my mother like that." Mark shuddered with the memories, day after day of living in fear of his father's moods.

"So I learned how to cook. After school I'd prepare dinner, clean the house, get her up and presentable for him coming home. We'd pretend she had done all the work."

"That's why you are such a good cook . . ."

He nodded. "It worked too. Most nights he would eat and drink so much, he'd end up passed out on the couch. We existed like that for years. My mother improved somewhat, helping me whenever she could."

"Why didn't she leave him?"

He shrugged. "She was a gentle soul. She had no other family to fall back on, to guide her. I think she believed he would come around, be the man she thought she had married."

"Did he?"

Mark felt his face harden. "No."

He fell silent and she did the same. After a long moment, he glanced over, wondering how much he should tell her. He could stop now, save her from the truth, but seeing the compassion in her eyes made him feel like a fraud. She needed to know all of it.

"I was fifteen when he lost his job. There was no money coming in, but he still managed to find enough to drink from sunrise to sunset. With him home all day, we couldn't keep the deception going—I couldn't exactly cook and clean in front of him. She tried, she really tried, but it was never good enough for him. Retreating to her room once more, the cooking stopped, and the house became a mess. It all fell apart. The more he drank, the more violent he became. One day he had almost beaten her to death before I stopped him."

Virginia gasped.

His father had ignored him through most of his childhood. It sounded sad, but becoming part of the wallpaper had had its advantages. "In all those years of not paying attention to me, he hadn't noticed that I had gotten big, bigger than him." He ran a hand through his hair with an exhale. "I don't remember doing it. All I remember is this slow awareness, a fog lifting, and finding my mother's paring knife in my hand with my father lying motionless on the floor. I killed him."

Her hand squeezed his. "To save her."

He chucked out a scornful laugh. "She never forgave me."

"What? That's fucking ridiculous!"

The f-bomb was a bit of a surprise, and when she clamped a hand over her mouth, he had to smile. But it slid away as he continued, "She couldn't bear the sight of me after that, sent me to live with my father's brother. He was an okay guy, busy, kids of his own. I pretty much kept to myself, not wanting to be a burden. A friend of his was a Marine. He was the one who encouraged me to enlist. Given my history, I doubted they would even take me, but he pulled some strings and got me into a special training program."

"And your mother?"

"My mother committed suicide a year later. She was never able to fully recover from the depression. In her mind, being alone was far worse than being abused."

She let go of his hand to wrap her arms around him. "I'm so sorry."

He dropped his head. "I'm only telling you this because you deserve to know. I'm worried that . . . sometimes when I get angry, that fog . . . maybe I'm just like—"

Virginia grabbed his face in her palms, turning it toward hers. "You are not your father." There was so much conviction in her tone, he couldn't help but feel hope.

He kissed her long and hard, to the point where the throat clearings going on around them were too numerous to ignore. Drawing back, he took her hand in both of his. "I promise you, I'm going to be the best damn husband and father you could ever hope for."

The smile she gave him was breathtaking. "I never doubted that for a second."

)l(

Virginia was pacing, something she'd been doing on and off for the last two hours. Mark was on the phone with Captain Beal, getting an update on the shooting. Using the excuse that she didn't like sitting for too long, she'd gotten up to walk the room again. It helped her contain the anger. To think of Mark as a young boy, powerless as he watched his mother being beaten over and over again was . . . horrific, but she didn't want him knowing the story had upset her, because in her heart she was glad he had told her. And proud, so proud, that he'd had the strength to do so.

She went back to doing circles, following the same path as before: windows, wall, door, agent on the phone saying, ". . . just tell him to go, the colonel is not allowed visitors . . ."

Virginia rushed back to the windows. "Mark," she called out to him.

He glanced over his shoulder, made his excuses into the phone, and then walked over to join her.

"Louis," he whispered when she pointed to the visitor currently engaged in a heated debate with the guard through the chain links. "How the hell . . ." Turning to the agent still on the phone, Mark demanded, "Let him in."

Carter was all over that one, walking over to intervene with, "That's impossible, Colonel. It goes against our protocol."

"Then we're going down there," Virginia snapped.

Mark held his hand out to her. "That's my girl."

The pride in his voice had her blushing as she fell into step beside him.

Carter followed. "Do you think that's wise?"

"He's a friend," Mark grunted over his shoulder.

"We don't know who shot Augustus."

Mark spun around, anger flashing in his eyes. "Well, it wasn't him. I can guarantee you that."

The agent stopped and scrubbed a hand along his jaw line, having enough sense not to push it. After a little more grumbling, they came to a concession. Carter and one of his men escorted them down to the parking lot.

"Open the gate," Mark ordered when he saw Louis standing on the other side of it like some stray dog being kept at bay.

The guard looked to Carter, who nodded his approval.

The gate slid sideways and Louis walked up to Mark with his hand extended. "Boss, it's good to see you."

Mark sighed. "This was not the way I wanted it to end."

"It is what he wanted, though." Louis nodded, placing his other hand on Mark's shoulder. Then his eyes shot to Virginia, the awareness spreading quickly across his face. "Lieutenant!" He threw his arms wide and hurried over to her. "Congratulations. You see, the healing has already begun. I'm going to have to buy stock in the toy store."

His enthusiasm was infectious. Even the agents fought to control the mouth twitching they had going on.

Mark's amusement was brief, a look of concern overriding it. "I told them not to touch you, that you were not involved in any of this."

"They never even asked to see me."

"What will you do now, Louis?" Virginia asked. From what Mark had told her, Louis had been in the business a long, long time.

"Well, that's up to the boss."

Louis reached into his jacket's inner pocket, and Carter rushed forward, going chest-to-chest with the man he considered a threat. Virginia had to smile. Carter was tougher than he looked.

Louis froze and, if she were reading him right, seemed a little impressed. "It's not a gun," he said, but he still moved slowly to appease the guy, pulling out an envelope to show him.

Carter nodded and stepped back.

Louis handed it over to Mark, saying, "It's from a mutual friend."

Virginia moved in close as he opened it.

"Augustus," Mark whispered. After sucking in a ragged breath, he read aloud:

Mark,

You will hear many theories on my death: a revenge killing, a vigilante's call to arms, a territorial war, perhaps even a jealous husband. (Although I think I have outlived that possible rumor). Just know that it is what I wanted. I am tired, and it is time to go.

I knew this day would come at some point, this day of reckoning. I am amazed it took this long to arrive. I have had a good life. I know now that I should have been more patient, let achievement come to me with time rather that forcing it through disreputable means. Unfortunately, the lure of greed is much like desire; it is enhanced by youth, a tornado rushing in and causing destruction, then mellowing with maturity to more of a rejuvenating thunderstorm.

Tell your sister goodbye for me. I did love her in my own way, although I hated how our relationship hurt my wife. Amelia tolerated a lot being married to me, but that is the one thing I know she never forgave me for. I think that is why I had such a hard time accepting Simon, my son. Looking at him reminded me how much pain I had caused my beautiful wife. Maybe I can make up for that lack of contact when I see him soon.

My other son, my namesake, has been a disappointment I'm afraid. He will now have to pay the price for his self-indulgence. I was unaware of this alliance he had created, I can assure you. I would have never tolerated a man who turned his back on his own men, his own country.

I have one favor to ask. I want you to keep your position, ensure that our companies stay in business—the legitimate ones, of course. I have left everything to my two daughters, in equal share. They are wonderful, smart girls. I have sheltered them from the activities of their father, and I wonder now if that was the right choice. Teach them. Teach them well—if they are interested.

Look to the woman who stands beside you. She has the integrity to help you make the best decision for everyone. You made a good choice with her. She reminds me of a time when I would stand in a darkened theater, watching the love of my life dancing on the stage, wondering if I could ever measure up to her honorableness.

I hope I succeeded most of the time.

With love in my heart,

Augustus Chilvati

Virginia reached for Mark's hand. "What will you do?"

"I don't know. It is something we need to talk about. I did enjoy the work I was doing." His eyes drifted down to the paper again as if to reassure himself that it was real.

"Can I ask one favor?" she said.

"Of course, anything."

"Can we not live in that house? It is way too big for me."

Mark pulled her tight to his side. "I'm sure we can come up with a decent compromise, something bigger than yours, smaller than mine . . . something ours."

Ours. What a beautiful word. Virginia leaned her head against his shoulder, thinking of the future which lay ahead of them. It wasn't going to be all smooth sailing by any means, but with him by her side, she knew it would be wondrous.

END OF CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Mark's past is finally revealed! I hope it helped explain some of his anger issues.

And *sigh* the death of Augustus. 😞 Although he was technically a bad guy, he still had a place in my heart, but there was no way that man could tolerate prison. Some might say he took the coward's way out. Maybe. What do you think? One thing is obvious, though. If Augustus had really wanted Virginia dead, she would be. Did he choose her over his own son? Something to think about.

A special thank you to those who were asking about Louis. ❤️ That made me smile.

Up next: FINAL CHAPTER. Claire comes home.🎉🎉🎉🎉

Just a reminder: The Wild Ones will be starting in September. The cover is up on my profile page! Hit that little star if you're as excited as I am ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️