by Jessie Keane
‘Why?’
‘Oh, just fishing around. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the tide of power’s turning in that household.’ He looked at her. ‘And Daniella likes you.’
‘You find that hard to understand, I suppose.’
He shrugged. ‘You’ve been straight with her, kind. The rest of them – apart from Golden Boy – don’t really want to know. I’ve been talking to her, she’s been talking to Alberto and to that crazy bastard Lucco – and now there’s been a slight change of plan.’
Chapter 70
‘I’m so pleased you’ve come back,’ said Daniella, hugging Annie impulsively when she and Max checked back into the Holland Park house the next morning.
‘Well, I’m pleased to be back,’ said Annie, although that wasn’t true.
At least in Limehouse she’d felt as if she was among friends. Here, she had just two – Daniella and Alberto; the rest of them were her enemies and she was sure they were trying to unhinge her.
And yet – here she was. Back again. She’d argued the point with Max, but he’d overruled her.
‘Keep them up close, see how they react,’ he’d said – as if dangling her like a piece of meat under their sharklike noses was nothing more than an interesting experiment. ‘It’s better to have them inside the tent with you pissing out, than outside pissing in.’
‘Look, I know how they’ll react. They want me dead. They’ll kill me.’
‘They won’t kill you. You’ve got security. Remember?’
‘Oh, yeah. Ex-SAS Mark Carson. I wouldn’t put it past Lucco to check that out, you know.’
‘You think I give a shit? Now, which was Nico’s room?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m going to go through his things and see if there’s anything there about Layla. So which is it?’
Annie told him. Christ, he really was like a dog with a bone; he wasn’t going to let this go, not ever. And when he found out she’d been lying to him, keeping him in the dark, he was going to go mental.
‘Unless you’ve heard anything already . . .?’ he asked, his eyes probing her face.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I haven’t.’ She hadn’t even dared ring Jenny Parsons at the yard, for fear that Max might somehow hear and realize what was going on.
He went off to check Nico’s room.
Now she was back in the master suite and very surprised to find herself there. She thought Lucco would have laid claim to it already, but he surprisingly hadn’t.
‘He’s got so much on his mind,’ said Daniella when Annie remarked on this, but the girl’s eyes were worried and her face was still showing the bruises from Lucco’s fist. ‘It’s been horrible here with Lucco and Alberto at each other’s throats.’
‘How’d you two swing this?’ she asked Alberto later. ‘Lucco was ready to cut my head off when I saw him last.’
‘He still is,’ said Alberto. ‘But I had a word in the ear of Daniella’s father. He’s a big man, a great man back in Sicily, with important connections, and he won’t take any shit. He had a word with Lucco, and suddenly anything Daniella wants, Daniella gets.’
‘Except a happy marriage,’ said Annie.
‘Ah yeah. Except that. Miracles take a little longer.’ And he smiled.
Yeah – he definitely wasn’t the easy-going charmer you could easily take him for. And now she thought she’d been stupid to think it anyway; he’d been raised by Constantine, who had for years maintained complete order with no recourse to law. Constantine had with seemingly no effort at all held the dangerous streets of Queens in his absolute thrall; Alberto must have absorbed some of his father’s cunning, if only by osmosis.
‘Oh – you’re back then,’ said Gina, looking at her with disfavour at dinner that night.
‘Daniella missed me,’ said Annie sweetly.
Gina, sitting there in her usual black mourning, her handsome face as cutting as a hatchet, shot Daniella an acid look, and she blushed.
‘I missed her too,’ said Alberto, skilfully skinning a peach and sending a glinting, secret look to Daniella.
Cara said nothing. Lucco, sitting at the head of the table in Constantine’s place, seemed not even to hear this exchange. They all looked at him. He glanced around at their expectant faces.
‘What?’ he asked. Then his eyes fastened on Annie. ‘Oh. So I’m supposed to comment on this situation now, am I? I’m suppose to act overjoyed that my father’s whore is back in residence?’
‘His wife,’ corrected Alberto mildly.
‘My mother – our mother – was his wife,’ Lucco reminded him.
‘So was I,’ Annie pointed out.
‘Sorry, that slipped my mind.’
There was silence at the table.
‘And where’s the trained gorilla?’ asked Lucco. ‘The mighty hero, your “security”?’
‘You mean Mark? He’s here somewhere. Just a step away.’
‘Unnecessary.’ Lucco fingered the stem of his brandy balloon and stared at her with hostile eyes. ‘We’re your family, aren’t we? According to you.’
‘And families ought to stick together, especially in bad times,’ said Annie smoothly.
‘Sonny Gilbert phoned about the club. He wanted to talk to you,’ said Alberto. ‘Just to bring you up to speed with what’s happening.’
‘He could have talked to Lucco,’ said Annie. ‘After all,’ she sent Lucco a sweet smile, ‘we’re partners in the Times Square venture, aren’t we, Lucco? Although I do still have the controlling share.’
Lucco stared at her. ‘I haven’t time for bullshit like that,’ he said. ‘You deal with it. I’m not interested.’
Annie nodded. ‘Of course, you’ve got so much to do. It was so tragic about poor Rocco. And his father, of course. Have you been in touch with the Mancinis again yet, Lucco?’
Lucco’s lips tightened but his smile didn’t slip an inch. He flicked a glance at Alberto.
‘All that is in hand. As is tracking down whoever was responsible.’
Annie’s eyes met Cara’s. Cara looked away first.
‘His brothers must have been upset,’ said Annie.
‘Yes. They were.’
‘And wanting answers.’
Lucco slammed the glass down on the table so hard that Annie was surprised it didn’t shatter. ‘They’ll get answers,’ he said, standing up. ‘When I do.’
And he left the room.
‘You know, you shouldn’t antagonize him,’ said Alberto.
‘Me?’ Annie looked wide-eyed. ‘I was only asking.’
‘Well, I think it’s very good that someone stands up to him,’ said Daniella, flushing bright pink at her own boldness.
‘You ought to learn some respect, my girl,’ said Gina, and rose and followed Lucco.
‘Nothing to say?’ Annie asked Cara.
‘I’m in mourning for my husband and for my father-in-law,’ said Cara icily. She was staring unseeingly at her empty plate. ‘I don’t think I should be discussing his death or the consequences of it with you.’
‘No? Only yesterday it seemed like you wanted to.’
‘Well, today I don’t. Got that?’
‘Loud and clear,’ said Annie, as Cara too left the room.
‘Well,’ said Annie to Alberto and Daniella. ‘This is nice. Back in the bosom of my family.’
Alberto smiled and cut another slice from the peach with surgical precision. ‘Isn’t it?’ he said.
Chapter 71
That night, Annie was in bed in the master suite when she heard the door open and close softly. She stiffened, expecting attack; and when someone slipped into the bed with her she was halfway out the other side – before Max grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back in.
‘Perks of the job,’ he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her skin and sending shivers down her spine. ‘Sleeping with the boss.’
His erect cock was nudging her in the back.
God, this was a dangerous game she
was playing, but it was alluring too. She had closed her mind to the possibility that she would ever see him again, yet here he was. But . . . he wasn’t here for her. All right, he was perfectly happy to use her sexually. But he was really here for Layla. And she had to button her lip and be very careful that he didn’t find out that she knew already where Layla and Gerda were.
‘Don’t the boss have any say in this?’ she objected, trying to sound coldly disapproving but failing dismally. Suddenly her blood was sizzling with desire; every pore of her skin was sensitized to him.
‘No, actually – she don’t,’ he whispered against her breast as his tongue got busy there, lapping her, teasing her into willingness.
Annie shivered. ‘But you’re supposed to be guarding me,’ she murmured. ‘Not sleeping with me.’
‘I wasn’t intending to do much sleeping,’ he said, trailing kisses over her collarbone.
One careless little slip and he would be gone, off to get his daughter. And . . . she needed him. Not only to keep her safe, but also because she had never really stopped loving him. How could she? He had been torn from her and she had turned to another man for help and had fallen under that man’s spell. But in her heart, Max had always remained.
‘What if I say no?’ she asked, teasing, half enjoying herself now.
She’d never got over him and she knew she never would. Which was tragic, when you considered what he thought about her.
‘Not an option,’ he said firmly.
She turned in his arms, felt the welcoming strength of him as he pulled her in close. All right, she was fooling herself, but why shouldn’t she take some comfort from this? To hold him close was magical; to let him love her was like recapturing an old and precious memory and bringing it alive again. Alive, when she had thought that death and separation were all she could expect.
‘Kiss me,’ she moaned, wanting to blot out her own tormenting thoughts.
He kissed her, already pushing her back onto the bed, parting her thighs and slipping inside her so easily and naturally.
Oh, this was so good.
He was just as she remembered: tender, strong, filled with desire for her. But he was just making use of her. Keeping her safe, yes – but only until he knew where Layla was. She was his key to Layla.
Annie stiffened, turned her head away when he sought her lips.
‘Stop . . .’ she said faintly. ‘No,’ he murmured against her neck, and finished quickly, biting her shoulder quite hard, but not hard enough to bruise or draw blood.
Oh, she remembered that. That Max was more physical, more brutal than Constantine. Constantine had been a smooth, accomplished, considerate lover; Max was energetic and aggressive.
It turned her on now, just as it always had. Even while she was whispering that he should stop, that she didn’t want this, she did, she did.
He was using her, just like he’d use a whore. He’d called her that, and now he was using her like that too. He could already have made her pregnant again, could have just fathered another child on her, but one born not of love but of hatred.
He pulled out of her and rolled onto his back, easing her up against his chest, his breathing growing steadier. She could hear his strong, vibrant heartbeat.
Max Carter was back in her life.
She hadn’t quite believed it until now.
But he wasn’t back to stay. She sternly reminded herself of that. When he got Layla, he would leave her and take Layla with him. If he knew that she was fully aware of Layla’s whereabouts right now, he’d probably break her neck.
Did she want that to happen? No. She didn’t. But one day soon it would, and she saw no way of preventing it.
What the fuck was she going to do?
Chapter 72
Max had dropped her off at Ellie’s and said he’d be back in five – he had to talk to Gary. She was trying to apologize to the shaken Madam and her girls for the whole bomb fiasco, but it looked as if what could have been a disaster had turned into a result for Ellie. Chris was there at the kitchen table with her, and he was being very attentive, Annie thought.
Then the phone rang in the hall. Rosie answered it, and called through to Annie in the kitchen.
‘It’s for you. Someone called Alberto.’
Annie hurried through to the hall and took the phone. ‘Alberto?’
‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he said, sounding worried.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Annie, instantly alert.
‘I’m glad I caught you. I didn’t think this could wait until you got back. I just had a call from Jenny Parsons,’ he said.
‘Oh?’ Annie clutched the phone harder.
‘She says Layla’s been taken ill. She thought it was flu, but it could be more serious than that.’
‘What?’ Annie felt sickness sweep through her guts like a tidal wave.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you, but they say it looks quite serious and you really ought to be there with her.’
‘She still at the Parsons’ yard? They haven’t taken her to hospital or anything?’
‘Not yet, no.’
‘Jesus.’ Annie was thinking fast. She had to get to Layla. But she couldn’t wait for Max to come back, and she didn’t want to risk Max finding out where Layla was, not yet. Not ever, maybe. Perhaps the wisest thing to do would be to just snatch Layla herself and take off into the sunset – that was, if the poor little thing was well enough. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ asked Alberto.
‘Nothing. I’ll get straight over there.’
Annie put the phone down and hurried into the kitchen.
‘Chris, you got your car outside?’ she asked him quickly.
‘Yeah, sure.’
‘Can you drive me over to Newbury?’
‘When?’
‘Now. This minute.’
‘Well . . . yeah. No problem.’ He was standing up.
‘What’s up? Trouble?’ asked Ellie, watching them both anxiously.
‘Not here, Ells. Don’t worry.’
‘Let’s go then,’ said Chris.
‘What about when Mr Carter gets back?’ Ellie shouted after them as they went down the hall to the front door. ‘What should I tell him?’
Annie didn’t even break her stride.
‘Tell him something came up, you don’t know what,’ she yelled back, and then they were out through the door and gone.
They got to the yard on the outskirts of the town by late afternoon. Horses were dozing in their boxes and the yard was quiet, swept clean, the flower baskets watered. The aura of the place was one of calm efficiency, the day’s work having drawn to its close.
‘You want me to come in with you?’ asked Chris.
Annie shook her head. If they had to go to the hospital, it was better Chris stayed in the car at the ready. Layla could easily have deteriorated in the time it had taken them to get here.
‘No, stay here, I’ll be back as quick as I can.’
She hurried across the yard and into the house, calling for Josh’s wife Jenny as she went.
She found her in the kitchen, dusted with flour, as were the worktops, the floor and the four excited children with her.
Layla was among them.
Annie dashed in, taking in Jenny’s startled face as she ran to her daughter, bent and snatched her up.
‘Baby, you okay?’ she asked urgently, aware of Jenny watching her with surprise on her face.
Annie glanced up at Jenny. She was just as she remembered – slightly scruffy, with her medium-length red hair in a tangle of curls, her freckled face flushed from the Aga’s heat, her pretty grey eyes wide with amazement as they stared at Annie.
‘Where’s Gerda?’ she asked.
‘Upstairs in the loo. What’s up?’
‘I got a call. They said Layla was ill.’
‘Ill?’ Jenny let out a laugh. ‘God no. She’s fine. We’re just making jam tarts for tea, she’s having a whale of a time.’
Annie looked intently at La
yla’s face.
‘Mummy, you’re squishing me,’ complained Layla.
‘Sorry . . .’ said Annie faintly.
What the hell . . .?
Annie stared at Jenny. ‘You didn’t phone the Holland Park house?’
‘Of course not!’
But Alberto had sounded so sure, so concerned . . .
Annie stiffened. Max had said that he expected one of the family to make their move soon. But . . . oh my God . . .
No. Not Alberto. Please not him.
She looked around. It was a happy domestic scene in here . . . but she had been lured here. By Alberto. By the man she had thought was her friend.
Chris. She had to go outside, get Chris.
Had to take whatever was happening away from Jenny and her kids, away from Layla.
‘What’s going on?’ Jenny was asking, her eyes on Annie’s wild face. ‘Was someone playing some sort of joke on you? Layla’s not ill, she’s absolutely fine.’
‘Jenny . . .’ Annie was looking around frantically, unconsciously searching for a weapon. She turned back to Jenny and tried to speak calmly, not to frighten her or the kids. ‘Jenny, I want you to do something and not to ask for explanations, okay? I want you to just do it. All right?’
‘All . . . right,’ said Jenny uncertainly. Now she was looking at Annie as if she’d gone mad.
‘Swear.’
‘Yes. Of course. I’ll do it.’
‘I want you to take all the kids upstairs and get into a room with a phone and barricade yourself in there. Take Gerda in with you. Then I want you to call the police.’
‘The police?’ Jenny gaped.
‘Tell them there’s been an accident. A shooting. Something. Anything. Just get them here.’
‘But that’s wasting police time . . .’ Jenny protested feebly.
Annie’s expression would have stopped a ten-ton truck.
‘Jenny,’ she said, and there was fire in her voice now. This was the old Annie, Annie Carter, tough as nails and twice as nasty, and when she gave orders, people followed them. ‘Get the kids upstairs. Just do it.’
