Red Handed

by Shelly Bell

  She’d briefly considered it, but it didn’t take more than a moment to decide she would never keep the truth from Cole or lie to him again. He deserved the chance to know his child. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do that. I’m just trying to figure out the best way to handle it. I don’t want to be his obligation. He’s a good man, and he loves me.” She hung her head and blinked back the tears. “He’ll do what’s right, and in his view, that means marriage. But I’ll always know he preferred a life without me or the baby over a life with us.”

  “You can’t know that,” Roman said softly.

  “Yeah? Where is he?” She looked up at her stepbrother. “I’ve been home for weeks now.”

  He got up from the bed and stuck his hand in the pocket of his jeans. “Gracie says he’s miserable.”

  “You’ve been talking to Gracie?”

  “More like Gracie’s been talking to me,” he said, reminding her of Gracie’s chatterbox nature. “She was worried about you because you sounded so depressed on the phone. So she’s been calling me. Daily. Apparently Cole isn’t doing well either. She said he hasn’t been the same since you left.”

  The thought of Cole suffering didn’t give her any satisfaction. “Then maybe he should do something about it rather than allow his fears to rule his life.” She sprung to her feet. “You’re not going to say anything to Gracie about my pregnancy, are you? Promise me you won’t tell her.”

  Roman pulled her into a hug. “I promise, but only because it’s not my place to tell. Anyway, congratulations.” He nudged her under the chin. “With or without DeMarco, I think you’re going to make a terrific mother.”

  “Thanks, Roman.” She gave him a kiss on his cheek. “So you and Gracie?”

  Smiling, he stepped back with his hands up in front of him. “She’s just a friend. But actually, the reason I came to your room was because she called with some news this morning you should know.” The smile slid from his face. “Michael Malone is dead.”

  She covered her stomach, thinking about the child growing within her. Rinaldi had sworn that Michael would pay for testifying against him. “Was he murdered?”

  He slowly shook his head. “Not officially. Officially he died of an allergic reaction to penicillin for the treatment of a sinus infection. His parents swear the allergy information should’ve been in the system and that Michael never would’ve taken it, but there was nothing in his records about the allergy.”

  Biting her nails, she nervously paced the room. “Rinaldi did it. He’s got someone on the inside. Killed from an allergic reaction, just like my father. He said he’d walk. Jesus. If he had someone inside the prison change Michael’s records, he’s invincible. No wonder the man thinks he’s God.” She stopped and took a breath. “Does Cole know?”

  He went to her and rubbed her arms. “He does.”

  “And he’s still not here.” The excruciating truth knocked her for a loop. Even when she’d thought she’d convinced herself he wasn’t coming for her, a part of her had held onto a tiny shred of hope he’d change his mind. That he loved her enough to fight his fear. Baby or not, they were truly over. “Out of sight, out of mind, right? What if Rinaldi comes after me next?”

  He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Gracie doesn’t think that will happen. But just in case, I’ve arranged for a bodyguard to stay here. He should be here in a couple of hours.”

  She pushed his chest. “You did that without asking me first?”

  “Is this some emotional pregnancy thing?” He scratched his head. “Because one second you’re worried Rinaldi will come after you, and the next you’re mad at me for protecting you. You’re not going to send me out for pickles and ice cream, are you?”

  Annoyed, she growled. Why did men always have to blame the hormones? Wasn’t it possible to go from sad to scared to angry in only a couple of minutes because the situation warranted it? “It’s not pregnancy. I don’t want some stranger here. I mean, where did you find him? Did you open up the yellow pages and look up bodyguards?”

  “Give me a little credit. It’s someone I know. I wouldn’t trust some random stranger with you.”

  Why hadn’t he said that to begin with? “Oh. Okay then. And no, I’m not going to send you for pickles and ice cream. That’s disgusting.” Besides, she wouldn’t limit herself to sweet and sour when there were so many other available flavors. Her mouth watered. “But I would kill for some Wynters Confectionary jelly beans.”

  He gave her a grin reminding her why they’d been such good friends all these years. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go out and get you the jelly beans if you promise to keep an open mind when you finally do talk to DeMarco. Because the man you’ve told me about—the man you fell in love with—would do anything to keep you safe, even if it cost him everything. If you’re honest with yourself, you’d know that.”

  Her eyes burned as she held back the tears. She wished she could believe that. “I promise. Now go get me my candy, and if you’re lucky, I’ll share them with you.”

  He ruffled her hair. “You’re my best friend, Danielle. I’m glad my marriage proposal didn’t mess that up.”

  “Nothing ever would.” She squeezed his shoulder. “But Roman, why did you propose?”

  “My mom put it in my head that because you and I were already such good friends, we’d also work romantically.”

  “Tasha said that?” Her stepmother probably worried if she didn’t marry Roman, she’d spend the rest of her life living with her. She patted her belly. “I’m sure once she learns about the baby, she’ll forget all about the idea.”

  “I think she forgot the idea about ten seconds after she spoke it out loud to me.” He laughed as he walked out Danielle’s bedroom door, but she knew a lifetime of his mother’s indifference still hurt him. It hadn’t taken Tasha long after her kidnapping to forget all about her ordeal and go back to raising money for her charities.

  She wiped her eyes, a ball of sorrow, anxiety, and resentment lodged in her throat.

  How would she tell Cole he was going to be a father in less than eight months? She couldn’t imagine picking up the phone or sending a letter. It had to be done in person. She supposed she could wait until her belly was round with his child and waddle into Benediction. Then she wouldn’t need to say a word. But it wouldn’t be right to wait that long. He deserved to know now. Their lives would forever be connected through their baby. But as much as she wanted Cole in her life, she didn’t want him by default. She wanted him to choose her and their child. Otherwise, he’d never completely belong to them.

  She wandered aimlessly around her room, dragging her fingers across her dresser, stopping at her mother’s silver box. “Mom, I wish you were here to tell me what to do.” She picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed, holding it in her hands as if it would give her the answers through osmosis.

  Sighing, she raised the lid. She pressed her palm to her belly again. Someday, she’d give this box to her daughter. She knew in her gut she was carrying a girl. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to keep her safe, even if it meant having a stranger guarding her twenty-four/seven.

  The box slid off her lap onto the carpet. When she picked it up, she noticed the fabric lining on the inside bottom had shifted, and it looked like there was something below it. She dug her fingers underneath and felt a rectangular-shaped object. She pulled it out and laid it flat in her hand.

  A flash drive.

  It was longer than the ones presently sold.

  Her mother had died before flash drives were invented. Had this belonged to her father? Had he hidden this in the box for Danielle to find?

  A sense of unease banded around her chest, constricting her lungs. She held the flash drive as if it was a deadly snake ready to strike if she made a sudden move. She didn’t want to know what was on this harmless piece of plastic, because she knew whatever it was had gotten her father killed and set the wheels into motion that had resulted in Tasha’s kidnapping.

  She and her bab
y were in danger.

  She had to find out what was on this drive. She needed a computer.

  For a moment, she hesitated and considered waiting for Roman to return, unnerved by the idea of doing this alone. But she couldn’t wait. She had to know the truth. With the drive in her hand, she raced to the den down the hall, where she and Tasha shared a computer.

  The house was quiet except for the sound of her bare feet brushing along the carpet. She entered the den and, sitting down at the desk, woke the computer from its hibernation.

  She stuck the flash drive into the USB port and clicked on the drive to open the files.

  She held her breath, her heart speeding like a freight train, and waited. One file titled “Important” and dated from eight years ago popped up on the screen, and she opened it.

  It was gibberish, a bunch of odd-looking symbols, letters, and numbers filling the computer screen. She studied it, wracking her brain for some way to decipher it. Was it a corrupted file? Or was she missing something?

  “Danielle? What do you have there?”

  She jumped, startled by Tasha’s voice coming from behind her. She whipped her head around to see her stepmother standing in the doorway, her perfectly groomed eyebrows furrowed as she squinted at the screen.

  Should she lie? She didn’t want to involve her, but as she’d learned from before, not having all the information put them both at risk. “My father left it for me. It’s a list of some kind.”

  Tasha hummed in her throat and moved into the room. “What language is that?”

  “I’m not sure.” She frowned. Some of the letters looked like the modern-day Roman alphabet. Was it a code? All the numbers were backward. “Wait. I have an idea. Leonardo Da Vinci used mirror writing in his notebooks. He wrote from right to left.”

  Tasha stood right behind her now. “But some of those figures don’t look anything like English letters.”

  “They’re not.” She typed in a search into her web browser, brought up a couple samples of foreign alphabets, and compared them to the file. There were similarities to a few Eastern European languages, but only one stood out to her. “I think . . . maybe they’re Russian.”

  “Russian. Why would your father leave you a document of Russian written backward? No one could read it.”

  “No, not at first glance.” Nervous excitement shot through her. She quickly found a program on the Internet which would reverse the text for them. Then she copied and pasted a section of the list into the site. The symbols morphed before her eyes. She highlighted the text once again and plugged it into an online Russian-to-English translation program.

  The list was converted into what appeared to be names, dates, and locations along with notes about drugs, murder, and human trafficking. “It’s a list of crimes. My father was working for the Russian mafia. That’s who Rinaldi convinced to invest with my father. I don’t think Rinaldi was working alone.” She peered up at Tasha, who had paled from a golden tan to a snowy white. “I think your kidnapping was about more than the money. They were probably looking for this. We need to call the FBI.”

  Tasha nodded. “I’ll do it.”

  As Tasha left the room to make the call, Danielle swerved back around to read more. Wanting to protect the information in case something happened to her, she sent the file in an email to Cole.

  She caught a flash of black from the corner of her eye, and at the same moment, excruciating pain exploded at her temple. She tumbled off the chair and onto the floor, her hands folded over her abdomen to protect her child.

  Tasha stood over her with a gun.

  Pointed it at her head.

  Then blackness.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  THE HARSH SCENT of acetone invaded Danielle’s nose, rousing her from unconsciousness. Her head bobbled as if she couldn’t control her muscles, and a searing pain shot through her skull. A warm, sticky wetness dripped down her cheek. She tried to remember what had happened, but she felt as if she was hitting a brick wall and the memories were on the other side of it. Was she in a nail salon? Had she been in an accident?

  Nausea choked her.

  Her baby. Was her baby okay?

  Frantic, she opened her eyes to slits and fought against the pitching of the room. Her stepmother was splashing nail polish remover on the window drapes.

  “Tasha?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  “Sleep well, my darling?”

  She swallowed and wiggled her body, awareness of the dire situation sinking in. “What’s going on? Why am I tied to a chair? Again?”

  Tasha turned to her and slammed the plastic bottle of acetone down on the desk. “I thought you enjoyed being bound. When you whored yourself for DeMarco, I’m sure you allowed him to use his filthy ropes and chains on you.”

  This didn’t make any sense. Tasha couldn’t be involved. She’d been married to Danielle’s father. Danielle had lived in the same house as her for ten years. They were family.

  “I didn’t whore myself,” Danielle snapped. “I was there to save you.”

  “Were you?” With a hand on her hip, Tasha arched a brow. “You didn’t enjoy yourself and have sex with your crush, Cole DeMarco?”

  “Why are you talking like that? Is Rinaldi behind this?”

  Tasha folded her hands over her heart. “I think it’s adorable you’re so worried about him when the person who should scare you is standing right in front of you.”

  “But your finger . . . ”

  She wiggled her remaining digits. “Rinaldi was actually squeamish, if you can believe it. For days while we stayed in that cabin, he tortured Michael’s sister yet he balked at cutting off my finger. I told him it would get you working quicker to find the account information. Losing a finger was a small sacrifice to make for my cause. At first, I worried how the society women would view it. They can be so catty. But then I realized it would be a great opportunity to start yet another charity I can use to fund my real cause.” Before Danielle’s eyes, the woman she’d known disappeared, leaving a monster in her place. “These women are such idiots. All they do is spend their husbands’ money and donate to fake charities just so they can feel good about themselves. America is truly the land of opportunity for people like me.”

  She shook her head, the pain of it making her stomach rebel. “I’m confused. You are one of those women.”

  “Really?” Tasha snagged a red pillar candle from the top of the desk. “How many of them could stage their own kidnapping and get away with it? How many of them could manipulate a man like Rinaldi into doing her bidding?”

  Fear for her life and her baby’s life swept through her. “You didn’t stage it. You couldn’t. It was Rinaldi. He took you.” As she witnessed the look of pride on Tasha’s face, understanding struck her like a lightning bolt. “You were partners?”

  She fluffed her layered blonde hair. “Partners implies we had an equal amount of power in the relationship. He worked for me.” Her jaw tightened. “Well, ‘worked’ makes it sound as though he had a choice. He owed me and my friends a great deal of money. Cole DeMarco convinced Rinaldi to invest, and Rinaldi convinced us. Even a sadistic psychopath like Rinaldi can be blackmailed with the people he loves. In return for his cooperation, we let his wife and children live.”

  “But he ordered Michael to shoot you.”

  Tasha sighed and shook her head as if pitying Danielle for her stupidity. “All part of the plan. Michael would have roughed me up a little before letting me go. I would’ve told the police I escaped, but couldn’t save you. And, of course, I couldn’t identify the man who kidnapped me because he kept me blindfolded.”

  Although she’d heard some of this from Cole and Rinaldi, there were missing pieces to the story. “Why did you marry my father?”

  Tasha’s eyes narrowed. “To keep him in line. Contrary to what you’ve always believed, your father was no saint. His hands were as dirty as the rest of ours. He could handle the money laundering, but when he learned about where that m
oney came from, he got nervous, not only for his future but for yours.”

  Using a match, she lit the candle and held it in her hands. “By then, I had married him and become his confidante. He told me was going to turn over the evidence he had on the Mikhailov Bratva, which, unbeknownst to him, was my family. I convinced him instead to put the money in an offshore account with me as the trustee and beneficiary. No one could touch it. We’d move away and take you kids with us. I don’t know why, but instead he gave the evidence of his Ponzi scheme over to Cole to give to the FBI. To protect you from the families, the official statement was Cole had discovered the embezzlement and mismanagement of the funds and that your father burned all his records of the Rinaldi and Mikhailov accounts. Then he left the trust to you.”

  Tasha’s story made Danielle ill. How had she lived with this woman all these years and not known her true nature?

  “And if he had run off with you and the money?”

  Tasha rolled her eyes. “After I had control of the money, you and he would have met an untimely demise.”

  She thought when she’d left Benediction, she’d returned to reality, but in truth, her entire life had been an illusion. Her only hope was if Cole sent for help when he received her email. If he received her email. Unless . . .

  “Is Roman working for you?”

  Tasha’s expression grew stony. “No, he knows nothing, and I plan to keep it that way. Before he left, I made sure to send him on a few errands to keep him busy for the next couple of hours.” She sighed and shook her head. “If you would’ve only married him, it would have made things so much easier. Once you rejected him, I had to initiate plan B.”

  “And if I had married him?”

  The flames of the candle flickered in Tasha’s eyes. “You would’ve died in an accident, leaving my son a widower. A wealthy one who shared everything with his mother, including his bank account.” She set down the candle and waved her finger at Danielle. “But no, my Roman wasn’t good enough for you. You had the silly infatuation with Cole DeMarco that I helped fan into an obsession. You blamed him for your father’s death when his real killer held you as you cried.”