"Lucky me," he said, his tone wry – but the sudden seriousness in his eyes told her he meant it as the absolute truth.
Eighteen
Willis sat in front of the lobby television, paying little attention to the late evening news. He couldn't sleep, and nobody was around except for the girl at the desk and Susie, working on the account books. He stared out the window at the full moon hanging low in the sky, a heavy October moon, and yellow-white in color, like old bone.
What to do with those two kids? He'd tagged the boy as hired muscle the moment he'd clapped eyes on him, and when the girl said her name was Lili, it didn't take no genius to figure out who they were and what they wanted.
He glanced down at the crumpled paper in his hand. It was a phone message his niece – totally unaware of its meaning – had given him earlier: Tony G. called. He says you'll know what it's about. Call back.
No matter how hard a man tried, there was no escaping some things.
If he didn't call Tony back, the fruitcake would send his boys up to visit – and Willis didn't want that innocent girl hurt. Her hired gun was on his own; he was no innocent, and could take care of himself … and judging from what he'd seen of those two, the boy had gotten under her skirts for real. Not smart, getting involved like that. Tough to keep cool, when your pecker kept you hotheaded.
No use telling them about the shoes. Better to take the problem away from them and onto himself. It was the least he could do, since this was his trouble and nobody else's. It didn't matter if Tony's boys killed him; he'd lived seventy years too long, anyway.
Best to pinch Rose's shoes while the "newlyweds" were out, then call up Crazy Tony, and hand them over. End of story. Maybe no trouble, in the end, and it would all go away.
The bell on the door chimed. Willis turned to see who was up and about at this time of night – and wasn't at all surprised to see pretty black-haired Lili and her muscle walk through the door.
The bodyguard, his arm around Lili, made his way past the front desk, nodding a greeting at the clerk, then settled his gaze on Willis. The sweet young thing smiled, making up for the fact her bodyguard didn't.
So pretty … and seeing her made Willis sit up straighter, glad he'd worn his best denims and his red suspenders. He looked right snappy for a fellow his age.
"Well, well, if it isn't our two lovebirds," Willis said. "Decided to come up for air, eh?"
The bodyguard's eyes went flat, edgy as a tomcat caught outside his territory. The girl blushed, and Willis liked how the blush looked on her, soft and pink on her fair skin.
"Something like that," the bodyguard answered, sitting on the love seat next to Willis. Lili sank down beside him, not meeting Willis's eyes. Instead, she looked down at her hands, playing with the wedding band – a plain ring that didn't go with a lady Willis had pegged as all class and flash from the start.
It was a good cover; he'd give them that. Just not good enough.
"Anything on TV?" the bodyguard asked, his tone a shade too casual.
"Nothing much. There never is."
"So how come you watch it all the time?"
Willis gave a dry, near silent laugh. "I ain't got the distractions you do." Jaw set, the bodyguard opened his mouth, but before he could respond Willis said, "What's your name again, boy?"
"Matt Hawkins."
A hesitation – not much, but Willis noted it. A reluctance to be named.
The muscle – Hawkins, Willis mentally corrected – motioned to the checkerboard and cards on the table and said, "If you want, break out the deck. We'll play a game with you."
Willis raised his brows, not bothering to hide his amusement. "You just got married, and you wanna play cards?" He leaned toward Lili, trying not to be too stiff about it, and said in a loud whisper, "Don't know what it is with young men today. Back in my day, a fella knew what to do with a pretty gal, and it sure wasn't playing no card games."
Lili smiled, slanting a look at Hawkins, and Willis could've sworn the temperature around him spiked to scorching when their eyes met.
"I've no complaints, Mr. Conroy. Believe me."
Willis laughed, sitting back. "You call me Willis, sweets. 'Mister' makes me sound like an old fart."
Her smiled widened, blue eyes bright, reminding Willis of another girl who'd been a looker, just like this. He'd always remember Rose as she was the first night he saw her at the opera house: a red-haired girl with a long slender neck wearing a pale silk gown that flirted with her pretty ankles, and sparkling shoes that matched the sparkle in her eyes as she slowly walked down the gilt spiral staircase. All the men, himself included, had stopped to watch her flutter past, soft and delicate as a butterfly.
Always surrounded by men, she was, everywhere she went. If she hadn't picked the wrong man to love, she might've made something of herself.
"Okay, Willis it is," Lili said cheerfully. "Let's play cards."
Her voice brought him back from those faded memories, the pain of it washing over him in a dark wave of grief. Still, he smiled and said, "Sure. How about you take your pretty little self over there and bring us back some coffee first. Can you do that for me?"
Annoyance briefly flashed across her face before she glanced at Hawkins, who nodded. She walked toward the dining area and the large urn of coffee Susie always kept on hand, and greeted Susie with a smile.
Willis looked back at Hawkins, dropping his gaze to the other man's chest – and the unmistakable, if well-hidden, lump beneath his shirt.
"Is there something you wanted to ask me, boy?" he asked quietly.
The bodyguard didn't so much as blink. "Pardon?"
"I know what you are." Willis leaned forward. "I seen enough hired guns in my lifetime to spot one a mile off."
"I'm not a hired gun," Hawkins said, his gaze cold and hard.
"Is that so?" Willis snorted in derision. "Keep telling yourself that, if it helps."
The boy's contempt vibrated outward, despite his attempt to remain civil. Looking at him, Willis could see himself seventy years ago. The same pride and hostility, the same hunger to be something more than he'd been born to.
"I'm old, not stupid," Willis snapped as a sudden, bitter anger took hold of him. "Remember that."
Lili's hired gun remained watchful, considering his answer, and Willis could almost feel the weight of judgment in those pale eyes.
"If you know what I want," Hawkins said, "tell me where to find it."
Good; he was cautious, untrusting.
"Can't," Willis said with regret.
"Give me a reason to believe you."
Willis tipped his head, studying the young man before him. He'd seen a hundred pairs of eyes like these before, a hundred men just like him. All of them dead now, long, long ago. "You don't have a choice but to believe me."
Hawkins leaned forward and said softly, "I always have a choice."
Willis shrugged, although the boy's contempt angered him. This kid ought to take a good, long look in a mirror. "Not if you want to keep her safe, you don't."
At that, both of their gazes swung toward Lili. She was holding a coffee cup and chatting with Susie, who was plainly delighted to have another female around to jaw with.
Turning back to Hawkins, Willis fixed him with a piercing stare. "Those boys that got shot down in Chicago the other night, they were your friends?"
Fury heated the younger man's eyes. "Yes."
As a heavy weariness stole over him, Willis nodded and sagged back. "I know what you're thinking, but it's not worth it, even if they're friends. Don't put her in the middle. No good can come of it." Willis looked toward Lili again, that old sadness biting sharp. "No good at all."
When he turned his attention back to Hawkins, he added, "You won't be safe here for much longer, so you better make up your mind about what's important to you. I know you don't want my advice, but you're getting it anyway. Take that little gal far away from here and make a life with her. Forget the shoes. Forget the bag. Forget rev
enge."
"I told you, I am not a killer. Unlike you." Hawkins leaned closer and murmured, "You double-crossed your own partner, you sonofabitch."
Willis looked away so Hawkins couldn't see his eyes. "It was me or him."
"And Rose? She'd dumped you for Joey, so maybe you figured if she was killed, it didn't matter. She got what she deserved, is that it?"
Rage filled him, a rage that he hadn't felt in many years. And guilt; oh, dear God, the guilt. "She never done nothing wrong," Willis said, his voice quaking with the effort to hold back his anger. If he lost his temper, no telling what he'd say. "She wasn't supposed to die. I never wanted her hurt."
"Just an accident, right? Like that gas station owner you killed in 1931 … he was twenty-eight, and his wife had just had a baby."
Those bewildered eyes, full of pain, flitted across his memory again – and the memory of his own shock, the sick feeling in his gut that had followed the sure knowledge he'd ended the life of a man far better than he'd ever be.
"Listen, boy, I done a lot of things I wish I hadn't, but at the time I had no choice. When you're looking down the barrel of a gun, you don't think. You act. And once you kill a man, there ain't no going back. Ever." Willis paused. "But I'm sorry he died. And the others."
"I bet. You look real broken up about it, Conroy."
Willis looked back up, still shaking with fury. "You ain't no better than me, sitting over there pretending you're not hoping for a shot at those boys who gunned down your pals. Don't try to tell me you won't kill for her." Willis tipped his head back toward Lili, still talking with Susie. "I ain't arguing; some men need killing – but killing is still killing, whether they're wearing the black hats or the white ones." Willis hesitated, not looking away from the bodyguard, or the sudden stillness of his face. "You take the killing on your soul, no matter what."
Hawkins glanced over Willis's shoulder, and by the way his lips thinned, Willis guessed pretty Lili – the real wild card in this game her bodyguard was playing – was making her way back to them.
"Can the shoes help me find Joey's bag and the money?"
Willis smiled. He wouldn't answer, for the boy's own good, but he couldn't resist playing with him, either. "Joey always liked a good joke."
Hawkins leaned closer and asked quickly, "What did he take from Riley? I know there's something in the bag more important than money."
Willis stared at him, surprised. Sharp, this boy. Not one to underestimate.
"A wedding ring." Among other things, but Willis kept his mouth shut about it. He motioned to the ring on Matt's hand. "Plain gold, like that one. Not worth much."
Except to one man, now long dead, and that man's son.
Disbelief and astonishment flashed across Hawkins's face, but Lili had returned. Carefully balancing the steaming coffee cups, she set them down and then sat. Willis waited to see if Hawkins would tell her they'd been made, to see how the boy would play his hand.
When Hawkins said nothing, Willis reached for the deck of cards. "Here's Lili," he said with a forced cheerfulness, like some grandfatherly old codger in a movie. "I sure do like that name … Lili. Gets a man's attention."
She smiled, unaware of his meaning, but Hawkins looked mad enough to spit nails.
"Let's play a game. Joker's wild." Willis smiled. "The joker's always wild. Makes for an interesting game. Right?"
Hawkins stared at him. "Right."
Nineteen
"Would you care to tell me what happened back there?" Lili demanded once she and Matt were back in their cabin. She rounded on him, fists on her hips. "The entire time we played cards with Willis, something was going on between you two. Do you think maybe you could clue me in?"
He scowled, and in the low light, he looked drawn and exhausted. "Conroy knows who we are."
The shock hit with an almost physical jolt. "Oh, God … are you sure?"
Matt nodded. He was upset, trying to hide it – but she knew him too well by now to miss the signs.
"I get the feeling he's been waiting for us to show up. Your name tipped him off. Among other things." He avoided looking her in the eye; and she knew there was more that he wasn't telling her.
"Did you ask him about the bag?"
Matt nodded. "He said he doesn't know where it is. I also asked him what was in it besides money, and he gave me this look, like he didn't want to tell me, then said it was a plain gold wedding ring."
"A wedding ring." She stared at him, dumfounded. "This whole thing just gets stranger and stranger every day. Whose ring is it?"
"He didn't say. When I asked him what the shoes had to do with it, he said that Mancuso always liked a good joke."
"Joey the Joker. Of course." Slowly, she walked to the love seat and flopped down on it. A slight headache throbbed behind her brows. "Now what?"
"I don't know. I'm still trying to second-guess Conroy's motives."
Lili shivered. "It's cold in here."
"Do you want me to start a fire?"
She glanced at the dark fireplace. "I'd like that, thanks. Then maybe we should go over the papers in the file again. See if there's anything about a ring."
Matt nodded, and went outside to the small pile of firewood stacked beside the cabin. While she waited, Lili stared out across the room, trying to get her thoughts in order.
Willis Conroy had been waiting for them. She could figure out the "how" part – no doubt Matt had as well – but the "why" part troubled her.
A wedding ring?
Mike Riley had been a flashy man with a notorious weakness for women, but going crazy-angry over a gold band was out of character. Faced with a pouting or teary woman, Riley was the type who'd throw his arms out in an expansive gesture, laugh loudly, and offer to buy something gaudy and hideously expensive to replace the missing ring.
Matt walked through the door, shutting it with the heel of his boot, and then crossed to the fireplace. She curled her legs beneath her on the sofa and watched him build the fire.
Silhouetted against the flickering flames, he looked primal – almost predatory. Something inside her, equally dark and ancient, stirred to the tang of sap and charring wood, the snap and crackle of the fire's dull red glow, the smoke stinging her eyes … and the raw physical presence of the man before her, shadowed against the fire, his profile strong, intent, and beautiful.
It was all she could do to drag her gaze away from him, even as she imagined what it would be like to make love with him in front of the fireplace, to the hiss and spitting of the flames, the heat stroking their bare skin.
Reluctantly, she stood and turned up the lights, then pulled the coffee table closer. As she spread out the contents of the file, Matt came to sit beside her, wordlessly taking half of the pile of papers. He felt warm and solid beside her, and smelled of pine and wood smoke. Lili wanted to curl up against his hard chest, and press her nose against the soft flannel of his shirt.
"I bet you anything Mancuso blew off his ex-boss for a personal reason," Matt said. "Look for any mention of shoes, a wedding ring, Graziano … Riley, too. Anything in the last year before he and Rose were killed is worth looking at."
"Do you think Conroy was lying about the bag?"
Matt shrugged. "Hard to say. His type wouldn't know the truth if it bit him on the ass. He might not know where Joey ditched the loot, but he knows what the shoes have to do with it. I can feel it."
"Why doesn't he just tell you? What possible good can it do anyone, after all these years, to lie? He has to know the danger we're in."
"I can't figure Conroy's angle, but I know for sure I don't trust him. From here on out, we take the shoes with us wherever we go."
"Do you think we should stay somewhere else?"
Matt looked up from the paper in his hand. Finally, he said, "No, not yet. I have a feeling Conroy isn't in any hurry to turn us in. But I'm going to be extra cautious."
Lili sighed. "I already thought you were extra-special vigilant. What are you going to do, no
t sleep?"
"If that's what it takes."
She couldn't tell if he was serious, but wouldn't doubt it. She directed her attention to the mess sprawled over the coffee table. After an hour had passed and she still hadn't found anything useful, Lili put aside her papers and stood, yawning and stretching. Matt glanced up at her briefly before returning his attention to the file.
Lili walked over to the fire and stared at the flickering red-yellow flames. All those words and pictures tumbled in her mind, like the colorful fragments of a kaleidoscope, leaving her edgy, tired. Grim.
"I wonder what Willis meant, about how Joey always liked a good joke."
"I've been thinking about it, too," Matt said from behind her.
She heard him stand and walk toward her. Even by the fire, she could feel his heat behind her.
He rested his hands on her shoulders, thumbs circling the base of her neck, firmly and steadily. Lili's eyes drifted shut.
"But I don't know enough about Mancuso to take any guesses," he added. "I need Conroy for that, and for whatever reason, he's not being helpful."
Sliding his hands around her, he unbuttoned her lowest button, and kissed the side of her neck.
Lili had a fleeting thought that she should protest, tell him they needed to look at the shoes again, but then he unfastened the next button, and the brush of his lips against the sensitive skin just below her ear made her shiver.
"Maybe Joey did the unexpected," she whispered, as his fingers opened the button over her breasts, lingering on their softness.
His movements stilled for a fraction of an instant, then he said, "Forget Joey." Freeing the last button, he slid her shirt off, letting it fall to the braided rug. He turned her.
In the firelight his face was dark, with a reddish cast. A stranger's face, all angles and hollows and eyes lost in shadows. He touched her, running his hands over her bare skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake.
"You have beautiful skin," he murmured. "Soft and smooth. I can't get enough of touching you."
He smiled, almost ruefully – and she was struck again by how lonely he seemed sometimes, and how she ached to protect him, if only from himself.
HER BODYGUARD Page 24
