Poppy Raven.
Clarkson Lieu.
How many more people had to die before this generational war could be buried?
She’d meant to say all this in her head, but it had come out, as free-flowing as her burning, embarrassing tears.
She felt Jett sigh. Then the car shook as he slammed the driver’s door and strode around Bessy’s nose. Cool night air and smells of eucalypt, damp bark of the Karri trees and spicy, leather Jett scent blew over her as he opened her door.
‘Hey,’ he said again, bending so she was forced to look into his dark rum-coloured eyes. Gently he pried her hands away from her face and pulled her out of the car. Her legs gave way as everything hit her all at once. Clarkson, dead. Ian, traumatised. Forrest, free. Jett, leaving.
He caught her body against his, pulling her upright. She leant against him and Bessy, the sharp night air freezing her tears in the way she’d been unable to.
He let her stay there, breathing in the scent she’d become so familiar with, the scent of safety and comfort and coming home. What was the smell of home going to be when he was gone? What had it been before him? She couldn’t remember.
His chin rested on her head. They weren’t embracing exactly, just leaning on each other. Friends again.
Her thigh buzzed. ‘I don’t think I can do it,’ she said, her voice thick. The trees rustled in agreement. ‘I know he’s going to ask me to take over the case, even though he apparently fought the rest of the family tooth and bloody nail for me to not take it in the first place.’
Jett shifted his weight as she leant further in.Just let me go. Let me fall.
‘You won’t be taking the case for your family,’ he said. ‘You’ll take it because you would never risk someone else’s life because of the feud between your family and the La Marcas.’
She grounded her feet, pushing off his shoulder. Her tears were dry. ‘I don’t get involved in family business. You know I’ve built my own reputation without a cent from him.’
‘Nel, he’s dead. What are you trying to prove?’
‘You don’t understand – you can’t! You’ve never had a family like mine.’
‘I know.’
Nella felt something sharp wedge deep into her spinal cord. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I know I’m not an expert on families. I’ve never had one to be angry at. But I’ve always been jealous of what you and the others have. What I see is that it doesn’t matter how angry you are at your family, they’re still always there. If you run away, they’ll drag you back. That’s why little kids run away, isn’t it? To make someone prove they love them. But no family is perfect, believe me. Even the shiny ones have the deepest cracks. Yours is fucked, definitely, but you’ve always turned a blind eye to anything good Giovanni ever did, things that were in the best interest for you and your siblings.’
‘A few good things don’t make up for a lifetime of bad.’
‘No one’s all bad, Nella.’
She shook her head.
‘Giovanni loved you, in his own way,’ Jett continued.
‘His own way.What the hell is that supposed to mean? You don’t get to choose your own moral code and damn everyone who doesn’t believe what you’re doing is out of “love”. Come on, Jett, I’ve seen the burns on your back. Are you telling me the foster parent who did that to you was doing it out of love?’
She was glaring up at him now, her skin taut from her tears and the last remaining dregs of preventative Botox he’d given her so much shit for getting. Nella wasn’t short by any means, but Jett’s long, slender frame always dwarfed her when they stood side by side. The gap between them froze ice-cold.
‘It’s not the same thing,’ he said. ‘They weren’t my parents. They never pretended to be anything other than dole-bludging child abusers.’ His voice was level and emotionless, like one of those sugar-free drinks with all the chemicals and sweeteners supposedly taken out. ‘Giovanni pushed you because he wanted you to be better, because he saw something in you, Nella. He may have never said it to your face, but he was proud of you. I’m sure he wouldn’t have agreed with Tom choosing Clarkson over you for this case.’
She would have thought Jett’s horrible childhood experiences would have made him less likely to believe there was anything good in Giovanni’s handling of family matters, not the opposite. Despite being on thin ice with the comment about his burns, she was about to tell him as much when two blue-white headlights cut through her periphery at the top of the hill.
Jett was the one who could pick out the make, model and probably year just from the sound of an engine. But there was only one Lamborghini Reventón in Bindi Bindi Cove. Despite the price tag ($1.2 million, according to Jett), Nella thought it looked like an animatronic cockroach.
‘I hate that man,’ Jett seethed as the lights crested the hill. ‘But I love that car.’
‘The fucking nerve ...’ Adrenaline, fire, the Barbarani poison she’d inherited in her veins, all burned through her as she ripped away from Bessy’s side. Some part of her was aware of Jett yelling her name. A horn blasting. Her heart in her throat. Everything white as the headlights of the Reventón swallowed her ...
But Matteo La Marca was too smart to kill the eldest Barbarani in front of a witness. She’d given him enough time to make the decision. Tyres screeched and the Reventón swerved just as Jett yanked her onto Bessy’s bonnet. If La Marca hadn’t stopped, Nella didn’t know if he’d have made it in time.
