by Ravenna Tate
“Are you saying you want a relationship with me, Carolyn?”
“I’m saying I’d to try, Jagger.”
There it is, bucko. Need any better confirmation than that?
What was he going to do? He had to respond. She looked so damn hopeful.
“I’m not a hearts and flowers type of guy.” You fucking chickenshit.
“I know you’re not.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“If I wasn’t, I’d never have stuck around this long. Like you said days ago, you already have what you wanted from me. There was no reason for me to stay past day one, but here I still am.”
Any reasons for continued hesitation had just been blown to hell and back. He had nothing to fear from this woman. She’d nailed it, and Jagger liked that. He liked it a lot. And the simple truth was that he already knew this was what he wanted. He’d known it from the first moment he’d looked into her eyes, nine years ago.
“I didn’t tell you the whole truth about why I didn’t stay at the club.”
She said nothing, Merely watched him.
“I hadn’t been out of prison too long before I joined the club. I never forgot that scene with you, but I couldn’t find you again. No one ever captivated me like that in the weeks and months following that night.”
He swore she was going to cry once more, but she didn’t.
“Let’s get the rest of your things and go back to my apartment. Tomorrow, I’m moving you out of this fucking dump.”
Chapter Seventeen
Asking her to move in with him right away wasn’t what Carolyn had expected he’d want, but she certainly wasn’t going to turn down the offer. Less than a week after she’d told the police a big fat lie, she had moved out of her apartment, given notice to her landlord that she was gone, and reported her new address to her PO. The lease was month to month so that had been easy to take care of.
Once they had her things moved into his apartment, they went through her clothes and other items, making sure no insects or other creepy crawly things were hiding in them. Next he’d helped her decide what to keep in the guest room, and what to put into storage. Most of it went into his storage locker.
Eight days after Carolyn had gone to the police, she and Jagger were sitting in the great room, sipping wine and listening to music. When her phone rang, she assumed it was her PO. Two days earlier, she’d called him, very upset at not having a job yet. He promised he’d step things up, so Carolyn thought he’d finally come through and answered the phone without looking at the caller ID.
“Well, hello there. I was wondering if you were dead.”
The phone almost slipped from her fingers. She motioned for Jagger to turn down the music and sat straight up, her heart racing. “Uncle Tony. It’s been a while since you called me, you know.”
“I tried, sweetie. Days ago.” There was an edge to his voice she didn’t like. It sent nasty shivers down her spine. She decided not to mention that the last time he’d called her was six days ago.
“I lost my phone for a few days.”
“When did you find it?”
Shit. Definitely an edge. She knew that tone. He was pissed off and paranoid. She’d heard it too many times in the past few years not to recognize it. “Today.”
“Why didn’t you call me back?” He knew she’d just lied to him. Carolyn was certain of it.
“I’ve been busy looking for a job.”
“Jobs are for the other guys.” He snorted. “You don’t need a job.”
“I want one.”
“Did you do what I asked you to do?”
“You mean with the police?”
“Yes. That.”
“I did it, but they don’t think it’s him.”
“You didn’t convince them enough.”
The phone should be on speaker so Jagger could hear Uncle Tony’s side of the conversation. The look on his face was one of both dread and suspicion, and he was right to feel that way. Carolyn had a horrible feeling that her uncle knew she was here, and that he knew Jagger was with her. She couldn’t explain why she felt that way, but it was so real she half expected Jagger’s downstairs buzzer to ring any second.
“Uncle Tony, hang on. I’m putting this on speaker. I have some pasta on the stove, and I don’t want it to stick to the pan.”
After Carolyn put the phone on speaker, she placed it on the coffee table. Jagger gave her two thumbs up. “There. Can you still hear me?”
“Yes. What kinda pasta you cooking?”
“Linguine. So like I said, they don’t believe it’s Jagger in that picture.”
“And like I said, you didn’t convince them enough.”
“I didn’t stick around long enough to do that because I don’t feel like going back to jail, okay?”
“You making clam sauce for the linguine?”
“Yes. Uncle Tony, who else pulled the job besides Jagger? Maybe it’s not him in the picture? Maybe it’s one of the others?”
“Why would I lie to you? Of course it’s him.” Something was very wrong here. He sounded suspicious, and that confused her even further. She glanced toward Jagger, who shrugged.
“Then why don’t you call in an anonymous tip or something? Maybe if it came from another source as well they’d be more likely to believe it?”
“Carolyn, what’s the matter with you? I could always count on you. What’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on.” She might as well not bother saying anything. The tone of his voice was too smooth, too knowing. He already knew what was going on. She was more certain of it now than before. “I was freaked out being in the station, okay?”
“You didn’t do nothing wrong. I told you it’s him.”
It didn’t help her ruse when Jagger balled his hands into fists, rose, and walked toward the windows.
“Well, they didn’t believe me. Started asking me all kinds of questions about how I know it’s him. I had no story to tell them.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Carolyn. Why don’t you want to help me get revenge on Jagger? He ruined my life!”
“Because he ratted you and the others out?”
“Yes. You already know that. Why are you asking all these questions?”
“But how do you know he pulled this job? You gave me nothing to tell the cops, Uncle Tony. Only your word, which I can’t give them because they think you’re dead.”
Every muscle in her body grew tense. She should end this call and never answer her phone again.
“You’ve lost your edge.” The words had such a finality to them, as if he’d already passed judgment on her.
“No, I haven’t. I just don’t want to go back to prison.”
“Prison.” He snorted again. “You never did no hard time. You don’t know how bad it can be.”
If he knew about the nightmares, he might have a different attitude. Or maybe not. He obviously didn’t give a shit whether she got caught lying to the police. Carolyn glanced toward Jagger, who gave her a dark look. She wanted him to fix this, but knew he couldn’t say anything. Although it hardly mattered if her premonitions were correct. Uncle Tony already knew she and Jagger were together.
“It was bad enough for me. Bad enough that I don’t want to go back.”
“So that’s it? You’re done helping me? You’re turning your back on the only family you got?”
The hardness in his tone shocked her. Every subtle change she’d noticed over the years came rushing back. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? Why hadn’t she pulled away instead of going to the police for him? It was too late to wish she could do it over. She couldn’t. She had to deal with this head on, right now.
“Uncle Tony, who told you it was Jagger in the picture?”
“You doubt me? You dare to doubt my word?” He had rarely shouted at her, even once she realized how much he’d changed. It shocked her to hear it now.
Emotions by the boatload swept through her, and she had to blink back tears. The o
nly family she had … well, that wasn’t quite true, but semantics at this juncture hardly mattered. What kind of a family coerces their loved ones to lie and steal for them?
“I’m not turning my back on you, Uncle Tony. But I won’t go back to the cops and lie to them again. Why would you make me do that, knowing I’d be sent to prison if they found out? I’m still on parole.”
“Lie? Lie? You telling me you think I lied to you?” Fuck. Wrong choice of words. She wouldn’t have had to put the phone on speaker for Jagger to hear that. Uncle Tony was shouting loudly now. Carolyn was sure the people in the van across the street could hear it.
“You were lied to, Uncle Tony. Whoever that man is, it’s not Jagger Tyrell.”
A string of cuss words in English, Italian, and what Carolyn swore was French assaulted her ears. Although Carolyn had no clue where or when Uncle Tony had learned to swear in French. She gave Jagger a helpless look as they listened to the tirade.
This was horrible. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t sit here, pretending to make pasta, and lie to her uncle. She’d trusted this man her entire life. She had looked up to him. To now realize he was trying to hurt her, and frame an innocent man, was too much for her to deal with.
Why? How the hell had things become this bad and she’d never seen it? Why did he believe Jagger had ratted him out? She had to know. “Uncle Tony … Uncle Tony, please! Just stop for a second.”
When the cursing stopped, she took a deep breath. “Tell me why you think Jagger ratted you out. What was in it for him? You all received the same sentence. Why would he give up your names, knowing he would also go to prison regardless?”
At first, she thought he’d hung up, but then she could hear him breathing. “He was released before all of us. You know that.”
Despite the very suspicious tone now, she had to keep going. “Yes, but do you believe he was released early because of that?”
“Of course I do. Have you gone stupid, Carolyn? Why are you asking me this now?”
“Why do you believe he ratted you out? Who told you he did?”
“Non tradire mai la tua famiglia, Carolyn.”
Never betray family. Right. Maybe he should take his own advice. Carolyn realized she wasn’t going to get an answer to the one question that might help her and Jagger both make sense of all this shit.
“I haven’t betrayed you, Uncle Tony.”
“I think you have.”
This time, she couldn’t hold back the tears. The disappointment and sadness in his voice were worse than the swearing and shouting. Jagger pointed toward the phone and then at himself, a question in his eyes, but she shook her head. There was no point now.
Carolyn only wanted to get off the phone and quickly. She gazed at the imaginary pot of pasta on the imaginary stove in front of her, and it came to her. “Shit!” She let out her own string of curse words. “Uncle Tony, I have to go. The pasta just boiled over. I’m sorry.”
After she disconnected the call, she hugged her knees to her chest. Her entire body was shaking, and she couldn’t stop the tears. “Well that was a stupid thing to say. I never let pasta boil over.”
Jagger was at her side now, stroking her hair and wiping her face. She was so touched by the gestures she cried harder. “You did the best you could. You tried to get a straight answer out of him.”
“He knows I’m here.” She snuggled up against Jagger and closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his body seep into her soul.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. I can’t tell you how I know it, but I know it. Somehow, he knows I’m here with you.”
“Why would he suspect you’re here with me to begin with?”
“Because I called him a liar and said that wasn’t you in the photo.”
“He won’t put that together, Carolyn. He won’t equate that to you and me here together.”
“Jagger, you don’t understand.” She sat up and shook her head, shifting her body to face him. “I feel it. I can’t explain this. Somehow, he knows the truth. I heard it in his voice. I felt it in my soul.”
“Okay.” He sighed loudly. “Let’s think this through. Everyone but you thinks he’d dead. If he outs himself, all bets are off. I can’t see him taking a risk like that, can you?”
That was true. Jagger was dead right on that count.
“And two, he lied to you. We both know that’s true because that’s not me in the photo.”
“Someone told him it was you.”
“Okay, so he was lied to, but he refuses to believe anything else. And instead of listening to you, he pulled the emotional blackmail card.”
“We’re Sicilian. We’re experts at that.”
“If, and it’s a big if, by some odd coincidence he has figured out you’re here, and if he comes looking for you, he has to face me. He has to face me and explain why he faked his own death, and he has to explain why he’s trying to frame me.”
A painful look crossed Jagger’s face that sent nasty shivers down her spine. “Carolyn, I’ve been giving this some thought. Hear me out before you protest, okay?”
“Now you’re scaring me.”
“I’m not trying to. Just listen, okay?” He brushed his hand across her cheek where the last of her tears lingered. “There’s been nothing in the news for a week on this robbery. That bugs me a lot. Either the cops or the Feds, or both, know something and they’re not leaking it on purpose, or they really have no leads. I find that difficult to believe.”
When he took a deep breath, she held hers.
“The one thing they do have is that photo, and it proves that at least one of the perps belongs to the original seven. That includes Tony.”
If Jagger knew how many times she’d reached that same conclusion, he’d be shocked. Carolyn averted her gaze. “I know.”
“You know what?”
The tone of his voice was filled with suspicion. “I know you’re right when you say it could be him in the photo.”
“But do you know it is him, Carolyn?”
“Are you accusing me of something, Jagger?” She moved away from him. “Because if you are, just say it.”
When Jagger ran his hands through his hair, Carolyn wanted him all over again. Damn, sexy man. She couldn’t think straight when she was near him.
“No. I’m not. I’m confused. I’m frustrated. I’m tired of watching that fucking van sit there and not know who’s in it or why they’re there. And I’m pissed off as hell that Tony just gave you shit on the phone when he’s the one who fucking lied to you!”
The realization he was protecting her hit her like a blast of cold air, and her heart gave an odd flutter. “So you do trust me?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, I do. I’ve had occasional doubts this past week, but watching you on the phone with Tony just now, and seeing your reactions as we talk, I’m convinced you had nothing to do with this. I’m also convinced we’re both being used. The only thing we have to figure out now is by whom.”
“So you’re not convinced it’s by Tony?”
“Whoever told him that was me in the photo could be the same person who convinced him I ratted them all out.”
“That’s true. I hadn’t considered that until now. And just for the record, I can count the times on one hand that another person told me they trust me. Thank you.”
“Ditto.”
“So what do we do now? How should we handle our suspicions? Should we still wait for Tim to call back before doing anything?”
“Tim is cautious. Too cautious at times. And he’ll probably wring my neck for suggesting this, but I think it’s time we took this matter into our own hands. I think we should tell the cops your uncle is alive.”
Chapter Eighteen
As soon as he talked Carolyn into going to the cops, Jagger called Tim. Not that it had taken much persuasion to convince her it was the right move. She’d reached that conclusion on her own before they each voiced it out loud.
“Caro
lyn and I are going to the cops. We’re going to tell them that Tony Vaccaro is alive, and they need to look at him for this job.”
“I thought you said he lives in Ohio and has stayed under the radar?”
“Who better to pull this off?” Jagger reminded Tim what Carolyn had told him about Tony saying he wanted to get back in the game, and mentioning a job that was a sure thing.
“It’s risky. I should be there with you when you go.”
“Fine. When will you be here?”
“Um…”
The sound of Tim punching buttons on his phone made Jagger sigh. “Tim, tonight. We want to go right now.”
“Jagger, for fuck’s sake. I’m not your personal servant.”
“No, you’re my attorney, and I’ve been waiting almost a week for some direction here. I’m paying you enough that you can drop by and walk to the police station with us. We’ll expect you within the hour.”
****
When Jagger, Carolyn, and Tim arrived at the station, Jagger was grateful that Perry Talio wasn’t on duty. This would go better if they spoke with someone who hadn’t met him or Carolyn yet. They were shown to the same office where Jagger had spent an uncomfortable couple of hours the week before, and told to wait.
Finally, a detective who barely glanced at them, and who introduced herself as Delia Thornton, sat across from them. “Do you have the photo I indicated on the phone?” asked Tim. He had called ahead while he escorted Jagger and Carolyn to the station.
“This the one?” Delia pulled it from a stack of papers and pushed it across the table.
“Yes,” said Tim. “We believe we know who this might be.”
It grew uncomfortable as she eyed all three in turn before speaking. “I’m listening.”
“Tony Vaccaro is this woman’s uncle. He is not dead, as has been believed for three years.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I talked to him less than two hours ago,” said Carolyn. “I’ve been talking to him for the past three years.” Carolyn handed her phone to the detective, and Jagger’s heart went out to her at the look on her face. He knew she didn’t want to part with it. He’d buy her a new one tomorrow.
