Mafia Darling

19 | Goodbye, Jack (Ella)

When Marco's eyes land on me, his face softens, and my breathing hitches. But then he sees Jack sitting there, bewildered, and his face contorts into the rage of a thousand burning suns.

"Get the fuck away from her," Marco snaps.

"Wait, wait, he's not--" I begin, and Jack raises his hands calmly.

"Relax," he urges, but he sounds annoyed at having to explain himself to an intruder. "She invited me."

Marco's face falls, his eyes flicker to me, and then the rage is back. My own rage begins to bubble. He has no right to be mad at my choice, or to antagonize Jack. Neither of us did anything wrong.

Jack tilts his head. "You look familiar. Do I know you?"

"Shut the fuck up," Marco hisses. "Get the fuck out before I bash your head into the wall."

"Marco!" I shriek. "Stop it!"

"Marco?" Jack repeats.

He stands, meeting Marco's harsh glare with a somehow calm one. In a flash, Jack whips out a gun and aims it at Marco's chest.

I freeze, eyes widening. Why the fuck does he have a gun?

"Well, well, well," Marco chides. "Who's mafia boy are you, huh? Rossi? Delgado?"

"No," Jack says. "FBI."

This time, Marco's eyes also widen. Jack pushes his suit jacket aside and unclips a badge from his belt to show us, and then he puts it back. His name was too small to read, but I saw the insignia.

"FBI," I whisper, and it hits me. He's not a broke aguy heading to a career fair. He's here investigating the motel's drug operation. That's why he was sipping coffee near midnight. That's why he asked me about the motel, about what I thought of the drugs, if I'd been here before, if I was coming back, if I was a sex worker. It was an interrogation. He was never going to sleep with me; that's what he was going to say before Marco barged in.

"Marco Corleone," Jack says. "Head of the Corleone crime family. You're under arrest."

Over the initial shock, Marco shakes his head, unfazed. "Law enforcement has come after my family and others for decades and gotten nowhere," he says in a confident growl. "You can't do shit to me."

"Maybe not," Jack says. "But I can have you temporarily arrested, and maybe I'll figure out a way to pin you permanently before you weasel your way out."

"Arrest me on what charges?" Marco snaps.

"Barging into a locked motel room and threatening a federal agent with violence." Jack glances at me. "Are you involved in this, Anne?"

I fall silent. The situation is impossible to endure.

Jack waits for my response, and when I give none, he takes a step toward Marco. "Get on the floor," he says. "Don't make this difficult. Anne, please stand against the wall with your hands raised."

I shuffle to the wall, but Marco doesn't get on the floor. Jack repeats his directions, taking a step closer, but Marco still doesn't move.

He whistles.

Luca runs into the room, and despite the silencer, there's still a bang. A bullet buries into Jack's neck. His gun falls from his grip and he hits the floor, choking and gasping as his ripped jugular pumps fountains of blood outside of his body.

"I learned from my mistake," Marco says flatly. "I don't go anywhere without backup anymore."

"Damn," Luca sighs. "I missed. I was aiming for his head."

Jack squirms on the floor, and I run to his side, putting pressure on the wound. He stares at the ceiling as he gasps, the red puddle underneath him growing with every second that passes. Blood gets all over me, but I stay right there, tears running down my face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I sob. "Please, just, hang on, j-just breath..."

I reach for my phone, dropped to the floor in all the chaos, and Marco kicks it away. His face is pained as he does so, but there's no regret in his features. My phone scatters away from me and hits the wall, far from my reach, and I make a wretched, wailing noise.

Jack stops gasping and twitching, and slowly, he stills, his hand falling away from his neck, his eyes drifting closed as he dies.

I slide my hand away from his neck, hyperventilating. "He..." I swallow the bile rising up in my throat. "He was innocent."

"He was going to arrest us," Marco says quietly.

And we deserved it, I think, but I don't dare say it loud. Marco already knows he deserved it; he told me himself that the mafia is bad business.

He just doesn't care.

Luca quietly slips back outside, leaving the two of us alone with a dead body. 

"Get out," I say.

"Ella, please--"

"How the fuck did you even find me?" I whisper harshly. The gunshot didn't attract any concerned passerby, and I don't want to catch anyone's attention now.

"I have my ways," he whispers back, stiff. "I came after you because I love you."

"Really, Marco?" I stand up, my arms covered in blood from elbows down. "Why do you love me, huh? You killed a guy in front of me and made me clean up the mess. We had one fucking date. What is it that you love about me, Marco? Do you even know my last name?"

Marco stares at me, pained and sad. "I don't know what I love about you," he says. "But I want the chance to find out. There's something about you, Ella, something about us, and I want to try to be together."

I fall to my knees, shaking my head. "Marco."

"Yes," he says quietly.

I look up at him with bleary eyes. "I love you. And I know you love me. But I can't..." I raise my bloody hands, fingers trembling. "I can't do this. I'm begging you, just leave."

I drop my hands onto my lap, breathing hard, exhausted. 

"Okay. I'll leave." He pauses. "Please, be careful in prison."

I raise my head, dazed. "W-what?"

He blinks innocently. "Well, I'm about to leave, so what are you planning on doing with the body? I'm assuming you'll call it in, and either they're not going to believe you if you tell the truth, or, even if they do, you'll still be prosecuted as an accessory who led him to his murder. And I know you're not experienced enough to wipe all traces of this and hide the body."

I stare at him, breath caught in my throat. "Marco--" I choke.

"Of course," he says quietly, "I can snap my fingers and have professional cleaners make this all go away...but I'd only do that for us."

His tone is soft, like he's doing me a favor. In his twisted version of romance, maybe he is.

"Please," he says, holding out a hand, "I know you hate me right now, but this is the best thing for you. Come home with me."

It's either that or prison. I'm never going to reach the city I imagined building my new life in. 

"You don't see it yet," he says, "but we're in love. And we'll be happy together once we work through everything."

I squeeze my eyes shut. Open them. Squeeze them again.

I'm sorry, Jack. 

I take Marco's hand, and he whisks me away.