Relentless

by Vanessa Dare

  Instead, a man in his mid-sixties stood when we entered. There wasn’t much of a family resemblance to Adam. Carmichael’s hair was blond mixed with threads of gray. Laugh lines formed at the corners of his eyes and his mouth, making him appear kind and gentle. He wore khakis and a pressed polo shirt as if we were keeping him from a day on the links. This was the man who ruthlessly cornered the drug market in the US? This was the man who handled a bunch of Ukrainian ruffians like they were kindergartners? Where was his gun? The dead bodies?

  “Carrie, my love, how are you?” He held out his hand for her.

  Adam released his hold on Carrie and she leaned up to give Frank Carmichael a peck on the cheek. “Hi, Uncle Frank. Thanks for seeing us on such short notice.”

  “Anything for you,” he replied, his voice almost tender.

  Carrie turned to us. “This is my brother, Nick, and Anna Scott.”

  Frank smiled at both of us, shook our hands and had us sit down. There was a large, cream sofa with two matching chairs, one on each of three sides of a coffee table. Nick and I sat on the sofa, facing a stone fireplace with French doors flanking it on either side. There was no fire because it was close to ninety, but the doors were open to the warm sunshine.

  “So, you work for Moretti,” Frank Carmichael said. He sat in one of the armchairs, Carrie in the other across from him.

  “My uncle doesn’t like small talk,” Adam told us as he sat on the armrest next to Carrie.

  I wasn’t really interested in small talk anyway. The sooner we were out of here, the better. My nerves were starting to fray. Not knowing the details of Nick’s plan made me feel vulnerable, exposed, with no real way to protect myself. It was like walking into the lion’s den with dangling pieces of meat attached to me. Frank could decide to kill us, not just pretend to do so. I just had to trust—which wasn’t easy for me—that Nick knew what he was doing.

  I looked to Nick, waiting, just as Frank did, to learn the details of this meeting. He’d just walked us both into the lair of the enemy, which was a very dangerous feat. I knew that firsthand. It was similar to walking into Scorch, knowing I’d be dealing with Moretti or someone who worked for him. Well aware the place was more than a simple nightclub. Just like Frank Carmichael was more than a sixty-something golfer.

  Attraction didn’t differentiate between good or bad. As Nick said, we had chemistry. I’d known he wasn’t good when I sought him out at Scorch, but I’d gone anyway. Wanted him anyway. Felt that pull between us. Now, Nick had worked his way into my heart. Deep enough to even say I loved him. I’d never loved someone before, so I didn’t know what it felt like. Had nothing to compare to this feeling. Was love when you wanted him with such a desperation you were afraid to let him out of your sight, out of your grasp? Was love when you’d rather push him away and go on without him so he wouldn’t be killed? Or was love knowing he lived on the wrong side of the law and trusted him anyway?

  If those were indicators, then I was officially in love. It had happened fast; I’d known him only ten days. It was enough. Perhaps I’d only needed that first moment, when I ran into him at the wedding reception, for him to change my life. One meeting and my heart had been captured.

  That love, the need for Nick, didn’t really seem to care what he did for a living. He may have killed people, hurt them, ruined their lives. How could I condemn him for that when I’d done the same, albeit for a very different reason, but a killer was a killer. How he treated me, how he made me feel, were what counted. Walking into Frank’s home, asking Nick’s boss’ enemy—by proxy, his—to help save us, showed his depth of feeling.

  I wanted Nick to leave Moretti, leave that lifestyle behind. But when Moretti had sent that man to kill us, Nick made up his own mind, masterminding a way to save us both. He’d done so much, changed so much for me. I hadn’t been quite as flexible, adjusting so easily to this…relationship we had. Once we worked through this plan—whatever Nick had devised—we could both be free of Moretti once and for all.

  “Small talk isn’t necessary, Mr. Carmichael. To answer your question, yes, I work for Moretti. I run one of his nightclubs in Denver.”

  I remembered the place, the crowds, how Nick took control. How he’d been so angry with me. So intense.

  Frank rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair, steepled his fingers together. “Don’t let the fact that you’re in my home keep you from remembering who I am. What I do for a living,” Frank warned.

  I shifted in my chair, ready to bolt if things fell apart. This was insane! I knew exactly what happened when you got involved with crime bosses firsthand, and with Moretti, that had been accidental. This, this was intentional.

  I didn’t doubt for a moment that Frank was intelligent, calculating and ruthless. He didn’t get to be where he was in his business without a little cunning. Maybe that was what Bobby Lane had lacked. A person didn’t get fired in this line of work.

  “I have to admit, you look like a smart guy,” Frank continued. “This stunt…and it is a stunt, is just plain stupid.”

  Adam took Carrie’s hand, kissed her knuckles. He didn’t seem bothered by his uncle’s choice of professions, nor how he talked to Nick. Were men always so forthright in their conversations? Carrie didn’t seem worried either, although she’d met the man before, more than once it seemed. Was I the only one freaking out here?

  “No, sir. I’m well aware of who you are,” Nick countered. “That’s actually why I asked my sister for this meeting with you. I have something you might want.”

  I noticed Nick didn’t comment on Frank’s opinion of his intelligence.

  Frank arched a brow. “In trade for…”

  “Killing us,” Nick said, pointing his finger between the two of us.

  I gulped. Fake killing us. He’d forgotten the most important word.

  “Now you have my attention,” Frank said, crossing a foot over a knee.

  “Moretti sent a guy here to kill Anna. Tomorrow. I want you to kill her first.”

  Nick paused, taking his time.

  “Go on,” Frank said. Not only did he have the older man’s attention, but Carrie and Adam were listening, too.

  “Moretti will want proof she’s dead. If you were the witness, called Moretti to tell him you saw her body, then he’ll believe you.”

  “Why should I get involved in this?” Frank shrugged. “This is a problem between you and your boss.”

  “He thinks I work for you,” I said, speaking for the first time. I didn’t want to be in the spotlight, but Nick was trying to save me, and I owed it to him to help.

  Frank turned his gaze to me, cocked his head. “And why is that?”

  “Because Bobby Lane was in the trunk of the car I was driving.”

  Frank just stared at me for a moment, his blue eyes penetrating and a little unnerving, then threw his head back and laughed. “Moretti thinks I put out the hit on Bobby Lane?”

  I glanced at Nick, then nodded. I was used to making business arrangements with contractors and plumbers and interior decorators, not a regional crime lord.

  Frank laughed some more. “And used you to do it.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted or not. I’d killed David in the same way as Bobby Lane. I knew what it took. I could’ve killed Bobby Lane; shooting a gun was second nature to me. I wouldn’t want to, but I could do it.

  “I heard about that, but there was never any news that he was found in your car.” His blue eyes met mine, held. “No news of you.”

  I smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles from my skirt. “That’s because I was given the wrong car at my hotel.”

  Frank’s smile slipped, froze in place as he thought about my words. “You’re telling me you got the wrong car and got pinned with Bobby Lane’s murder?”

  His stare was a little unnerving, but I refused to back down. When Nick took my hand and gave it a squeeze, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “Not by the police, but Moretti, yes.”

  “That stu
pid son of a—” Frank ran a hand over his mouth.

  “Now you see why we’re here,” Nick concluded.

  “Uncle Frankie, you’ve got to help them out,” Adam added.

  Frank held up a hand. “Now hold on. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help. I just needed to hear about the whole mess, and it is a mess.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  “There’s nothing more I’d like to do than fuck over…excuse me, ladies, Moretti.” Frank actually rubbed his hands together.

  Nick gave a tentative smile, although probably remaining careful with his words. “Here’s my idea. We let Moretti continue to believe Anna works for you. When you find out Anna is consorting with me, one of Moretti’s men, you kill her. Perhaps you find us together and kill me, too. The man Moretti sent plans to kill both of us, so if you kill me first, you’ll do Moretti a favor.”

  “Very Romeo and Juliet,” Frank said.

  “With a crime family twist,” Adam added.

  “You said you have something I might want.” Frank wasn’t a guy that would do something for nothing. He wanted to know what was in it for him. What would he receive in return for helping us? I had money, but he seemed to have enough of it already.

  “As a thank you for your help, you can help put Moretti away for life.”

  Frank’s eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop. “How so?”

  Nick leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “After you kill us, you call Moretti and tell him what you did. You’ll follow a script and get Moretti to cop to sending a man after Anna, that he’d planned her murder, planned mine. Moretti killed Bobby Lane. No one else has claimed it and he hasn’t sought retribution. I can’t prove it, nor say who pulled the trigger, but you can probably coax that out of him as well. Accessory. Conspiracy. Principal in a murder. With that on tape, he’ll go down for life.”

  “How do you plan to keep these fake murders from putting me in jail?”

  Carrie answered this question. “This is where Adam and I come in. I’ll get the wiretap on your phone from the police, get them in on this. Adam will help make the murders look real so it’s believable.”

  I didn’t want to know how Adam had experience with that, nor did I want to consider what real meant in this case.

  “What happens to both of you once you’re dead?” Frank wondered.

  Nick glanced at me. “There aren’t many ways out of a group like Moretti’s. Being dead’s one of them.” He paused, no doubt wondering if Frank had a similar arrangement with his business. “If you kill me, I don’t have to work for Moretti anymore.”

  “You don’t want to stay in the life?” Frank asked.

  Nick looked at me, his gaze soft, warm. “With all due respect, sir, to you and your line of work, but hell no.”

  “What about you, Anna?” Frank looked to me. “It could end up on the news. What about your family?”

  “I don’t have any family, so that’s not an issue.” I gave him a small smile to let him know it didn’t matter.

  “Your life as you know it will be over. Are you prepared for that?” he added.

  I listened to Frank, but looked at Nick. Read from his expression that things were going to be okay. “Yes. I have another life waiting for me.”

  Nick arched a brow, no doubt wondering if this new life was as Olivia Edwards or as some new identity.

  Frank was quiet, and thankfully didn’t push.

  “So, Nick”—Frank paused, waiting for Nick to look at him—“this took balls…guts coming here like this.” He waved his hand in the air. “You could’ve come here for Moretti, to shoot me in my own home. Your plan, it’s pretty big. Enlisting me to help, even bigger. You could’ve just bought two tickets to Paris to avoid the hit man Monday. Instead, you come up with this scheme so Moretti’s off both your backs. Permanently.” He shifted forward in his chair so his elbows rested on his knees, his fingers steepled together. “The way I figure it, you’re either in love with Anna or you’re a cop.”

  Nick froze. I froze. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carrie whip her head around to look at her brother.

  Nick pivoted his body to face me, his back to Frank. He looked at me with his dark eyes, searched my face. His lip curved up, his dimple appearing. “You’re right, Mr. Carmichael.” Nick’s gaze dropped to my mouth. “I’m in love with Anna—”

  I smiled, instantly and brilliantly, tears pricking my eyes. I’d never heard anyone tell me that before. The words were new, rusty to my ears, but the swell of emotion, the overwhelming feeling of joy pumped through my body with every beat of my heart. He loved me. Nick loved me! How had that happened? I’d tried and tried to push him away, keep my distance, to protect myself, my heart from him.

  Reaching out, he grabbed my hand and pulled me to him for a quick, rough kiss. It was filled with a tenderness and need I’d never felt before. His hand at the nape of my neck held me in place, even after he pulled back and stared into my eyes. He was breathing hard, his eyes dark.

  “—and I’m also a cop.”

  What? What had he said? My smile fell, but the tears remained, slid down my cheeks. Now they fell out of something other than happiness. “You’re a…” I swallowed past the lump in my throat as I pulled back out of his grip.

  “Cop.” Nick took my hand as if he needed a lifeline, but I yanked it away.

  What had he said?

  “Anna, love, I’m undercover.”

  Undercover? He didn’t work for Moretti? He hadn’t come to kill me? I’d been waging an internal battle about falling for a guy who had hired hit man and goon on his resume when he was really a police officer? I was smarter than this. The saying love makes you blind was certainly true. Thinking back, the clues were there. Probing questions, knowing where to find me, his friend who had investigated me. Nick had been a cop with me all along.

  I stood on shaky legs, looked down at the man who’d just made my life complete in one moment, then ripped it to shreds the next. “I…I’ve got to…I—”

  I couldn’t stay here. Embarrassed, shamed and afraid at the same time. Had Carrie known? I flicked my gaze to her. Of course, she had. She sat there looking guilty. She knew her brother didn’t work for Moretti. Knew he was a cop. I thought she was my friend, that she really actually cared about me. No, she just wanted to help her brother.

  And Nick… God! All this time, spouting how much I should trust him, how often he’d pushed me to tell him the truth, had been keeping this a secret. He’d lied. Lied. I’d been right, thinking it safer to keep people at a distance. I was right to be wary, paranoid even, of people’s intentions. No one wanted me for just me. They always wanted something.

  Nick needed a way out just as much as I did. If Moretti found out he was a cop, he’d hunt Nick forever. So much for protecting me. Nick needed this to save his own skin. Nothing, and no one, else.

  Men were all the same. And I’d just spent the last few minutes thinking about how much I loved this one. How honest and true, how freaking trustworthy he was. I was still that stupid eighteen-year-old craving love, needing to feel wanted.

  No more.

  Doing the only thing I could to protect myself, even though my heart had been ripped from my chest and stomped on, I fled. Instead of having another person leave me, use me and then abandon me, this time, I escaped.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Grif

  Shit. Shit. I watched Anna dash out of the family room, winced when the front door slammed behind her. Her reaction didn’t come as much of a surprise. I knew she’d hate me when she found out I was a cop. Not because I didn’t actually work for Moretti, that I figured she’d be happy about, once she stopped being angry. It was the fact that I’d lied to her. Or lied by omission. I had opportunity the entire time we’d known each other, starting as early as the wedding reception to avoid deception.

  At first, I’d kept it secret because I thought she worked for Moretti, then the bastard himself had set me clear on that and redirected me to conside
r her a contract killer for Carmichael. I’d been a complete idiot to even think that. Sitting here with the man, no way would he put Anna in any kind of danger his work might create. I’d let my anger at being tricked, being deceived by a woman to blind me to what I knew deep down.

  Anna was innocent. Of everything.

  Nadine had done a number on me when we were married. Scarred my emotions to the point where I didn’t trust a woman to get close, to always question her motives. She was in my past and I’d let her control my present. Ruin it. No, Nadine hadn’t done that; I hadn’t seen or heard from her in years.

  I’d done it to myself.

  Once I realized how foolish I’d been, I knew the only way to protect Anna from Moretti was to keep Moretti thinking I was his employee. If Moretti knew I was undercover, retribution against me would have been swift. Then who would have protected Anna?

  No one. She had no one to watch over her. I ran my hand through my hair, frustration and desperation burning a hole in my gut.

  I was torn between chasing her down and working out the details of the plan with Carmichael. I put my hands on my knees, rested my face in my palm. Jesus, what a mess. Right now, it was more important to keep Anna alive than to have her love me back. She couldn’t die on me now. I’d never said the words I love you and meant them before. I intended to keep Anna around so she could hear it again and prove myself worthy.

  “Christ, I fucked up,” I muttered toward the floor.

  “You kept her alive,” Adam said. Turning my head, I looked at him. The guy wasn’t an asshole, but I wanted him to be. I wanted to redirect my anger onto him instead of myself. “Yeah, Carrie filled me in. If Moretti found out you were undercover, you’d be dead, and so would Anna. No question.”

  “If…and I’m using the word if here—” Carmichael said, his voice dark, his look menacing, “—I found out someone was undercover on my team, they’d be deader than Bobby Lane.”