by Marin Thomas
At her mention of his alias, the half-eaten corn dog churned in his stomach. He should have come clean with her after they’d made love. Anna deserved at least that from him. Rather than ruin the moment with such a confession, he stood in the chilly sunshine and absorbed her sweet, crooked-tooth smile and sparkling blue eyes. He laid a cold palm against her cheek and gazed at her face, trying to say without words how much he cared for her.
Love. Was that the name of the soulful yearning stirring in his chest? He’d gladly admit to caring deeply for Anna. Her Pollyanna attitude had lifted him from the dark and carried him to the light, coaxing him to engage in life. But love—the forever kind?
Sandra’s image popped into his mind. He wished he could blame his ex-wife for being the one to quit on him, but he couldn’t. He’d been the one to give up. The one afraid their relationship wouldn’t survive after 9/11. In self-defense he’d left her before she had the opportunity to leave him. He’d destroyed Sandra, himself, their marriage and their unborn child.
Had he learned his lesson with Sandra? Could he promise Anna he’d never inflict the pain on her that he’d caused his first wife? He had no control over the future. Nor could he control a possible catastrophic event that might test their…What—love? Maybe he shouldn’t allow things between them to become serious. Oh, hell. His feelings were already serious.
“What’s wrong, Ryan?” Anna’s brow wrinkled. Perhaps their lovemaking had increased her ability to read his mind or he had lost the capacity to hide his emotions from her. A bit of both, he assumed.
“Nothing’s wrong.” He kissed the tip of her red nose. “I’m wondering where to search for Parnell.”
Anna nibbled the last bit of corn dog, then threw the stick into the garbage can behind Ryan. Her gaze skimmed his face before attaching itself to an empty bench farther up the Boardwalk. “I feel guilty,” she blurted. “We came here to find Bobby and—” she looked him straight in the eye “—all I want to do is return to the room and make love again.” Two bright red blotches stained her cheeks.
Tucking her against his side, he whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For caring about me.” For making me feel like a man again. “I’m glad we had today.”
“Me, too.”
He wanted to promise her there’d be more opportunities for lovemaking tomorrow, the next day or even the next month. But he wouldn’t make a pledge he wasn’t certain he could keep.
“Your pants are ringing.” Anna grinned.
“Maybe this is James.” Ryan had asked the Trump Plaza manager to advise the other hotel managers along the Boardwalk to keep an eye out for Parnell.
After a brief exchange with James, Ryan snapped the phone shut. “Parnell’s here.”
“Where?” Anna clutched his coat sleeve.
“The Tropicana. He’s playing blackjack.” Taking her hand, they changed course. “He’s been at the table since late last night.” When they entered the Tropicana, Ryan instructed, “Wait here, Anna.”
“But—”
“Let me coax Parnell away from the table and bring him to the lobby. He might become distressed when he sees you.” No telling what shape the man was in or how much he’d drunk.
“Be patient with him,” Anna called out as he walked away.
Patient? He supposed he could be charitable, since he and Anna would never have had this time together if Parnell hadn’t snuck off to Atlantic City.
Spotting their boss didn’t take long—he was sitting alone at a table. In his rush to get to Atlantic City, Parnell must have forgotten his razor. A full beard covered his face and he wore a rumpled church suit and stained tie. Ryan stopped next to him and winced as he caught a whiff of unwashed body and booze. He signaled to the dealer to leave them.
“Hey, I’m not finished,” Parnell called out.
“Time to go, boss.” Ryan thumped Parnell’s shoulder.
“Jones?” Parnell glanced around Ryan, no doubt checking to see if the rest of the guys at the station had tagged along. “What are you doing here?” he grumbled.
“Saving your ass.” He grabbed a fistful of Parnell’s suit jacket and coaxed him off the chair. “Anna’s not going to appreciate your being in such a sorry state,” Ryan muttered.
Parnell dug in his heels. “Anna’s here?”
“She’s worried about you.”
“I…I…No.” He shook his head. “I don’t want—”
“You should have thought of that before you embarked on another one of your gambling binges.” He tugged and Parnell followed. “A pot of coffee and a shower will do you more good than another hand of blackjack,” Ryan muttered.
The moment Anna spotted them, she rushed forward and flung her arms around her boss. Ryan resisted the urge to punch Parnell for causing her grief.
“Mary’s worried. We’re all concerned about you.” Anna brushed at the wrinkles in his jacket.
Shamefaced, Parnell dropped his gaze to the floor. “Things are—”
“Let’s go.” Ryan ushered them out of the hotel. No need to air Parnell’s dirty laundry in the Tropicana lobby. “Where are you staying?” he asked when they stepped outside.
Parnell offered a blank look.
“Bobby.” Anna pulled on his coat sleeve. “Where’s your hotel room?”
“I don’t have one,” he mumbled.
That explained his smell. Ryan steered him toward the sidewalk. “When did you arrive in Atlantic City?”
“What’s today?” Parnell asked.
“Saturday,” Anna said.
“Then I got here Wednesday night.”
Anna frowned. “Where have you slept?”
Bloodshot eyes pleaded with Ryan. Taking pity on the man, he insisted, “We’ll talk when we get to the hotel.” He and Anna flanked the boss as they walked to the Trump Plaza. They stopped once to buy Parnell coffee from a street vendor.
By the time they arrived in the hotel room, Anna’s mothering had caught up to speed and she hovered over Parnell, urging him to eat, then changing her mind and telling him to sleep, then suggesting he might want to shower first.
The man didn’t deserve Anna’s attention. Irritated, Ryan pulled her aside, shoved two hundred dollars in her hand and suggested she purchase a change of clothes for the boss from one of the hotel boutiques. While she shopped, he intended to help Parnell shower and shave. “Let him recover his dignity before we grill him with questions,” he whispered.
“I’ll reimburse you for whatever I spend.”
“Don’t worry about the money,” he insisted.
“You’re certain you can…” She nodded to Parnell, who slouched on the sofa.
“Give us an hour.”
“Fine.” Instead of heading to the door, she went up on tiptoe and kissed him. “Thank you for caring. For…everything.”
Ryan didn’t miss the emphasis placed on everything. She pressed her mouth to his again—not a sweet peck, but an I-want-you kiss—then she strolled out the door.
“It’s that way between the two of you, huh?”
“My relationship with Anna isn’t any of your business.” Ryan faced Parnell. “Besides, you’re in no shape to protest.”
He snorted, spit spraying from his mouth. “But my gambling is your business?”
“Anything that impacts Anna concerns me.”
Parnell’s mouth thinned, but he held his tongue and slumped into a ball of defeat, the fight drained out of him.
“Is this a short-lived gambling binge or are you in real trouble?”
Parnell rallied. “What makes you believe I’m in trouble?”
“Anna discovered money missing from the company accounts. And she’s aware of your previous gambling problem.”
“She’s too damn nosy for her own good.”
“Nosy or not, Anna cares about you and your wife and wants to help. I’m not sure you deserve help.” Before the man went off on a tangent, Ryan demanded, “Answer my question. Are yo
u in trouble?”
After a pregnant pause, Parnell confessed, “Big trouble.”
“How much are you in for?”
“I’m gonna lose the business.”
“What?” Ryan shot out of the chair. Parnell dived for cover behind the couch. This was worse than Ryan had imagined. “Are you talking bankruptcy?”
White-knuckling the sofa cushions, Parnell whined, “I got in too deep with a loan shark.”
“Loan shark? Are you talking the mob?”
“I owe Little Nicky over three hundred thousand dollars.”
“Who the hell is Little Nicky?”
“You haven’t heard of Little Nicky?” The awe in Parnell’s voice was almost comical.
Manhattan might as well be a continent away from Queens, because Ryan had no idea who the mobster was. “I’ve never heard of the man.”
“Godfather Scarlotto. You’ve heard of the Scarlotto brothers, haven’t you?”
Unable to remember if he had or hadn’t heard the mob name, Ryan shrugged.
“Little Nicky floated me a loan. I was winning a month ago, but I hit a rough patch and…” The boss sucked in a noisy breath. “Then Mary left me and I…I couldn’t stop rolling the dice. I kept thinking that if I won a lot of money, Mary would take me back.” Parnell gnawed the tips of his nails and Ryan winced at the sight of a once-strong man now lost and insecure. He almost felt sorry for the guy. Almost.
“What happens if you can’t pay this jerk?”
“Little Nicky’s not so bad.”
“He’s a mobster!” Lack of sleep and food deprivation must have numbed Parnell’s brain cells.
“You’re thinking of the movie The Godfather. Times have changed. The mob doesn’t go around shooting people who can’t pay their debts.”
“How do they collect their money?”
“By seizing personal property.”
“The station.”
Parnell nodded.
“If you paid off Little Nicky, you’d be able to keep the business?”
“No. I signed over the business in exchange for a hundred thousand cash.”
“Tell me you’re joking.” Parnell wasn’t that stupid. “You owe this guy over 300K, and even if you find the money to pay him, he keeps Parnell Brothers.”
“Yeah.”
“What the hell was going through your mind? You can’t screw with people’s lives. Anna and the others need their jobs.”
“I wasn’t thinking, okay!” He smacked a couch pillow, sending it flying across the room.
Anger burned in Ryan’s gut. Parnell Brothers was all Anna had. Losing her job and the connection with the other men would destroy her. “How long before Anna and the others are unemployed?”
“First week in November.”
Only a few days to figure out a solution to the quagmire. “C’mon. You could use a shower.”
Shoulders sagging, Parnell shuffled to the bathroom.
“Don’t say a word to Anna or anyone else until I—”
“You could ask your grandfather if he’d bail me out,” Parnell interrupted.
Ryan stopped in the hallway. “My grandfather? What does he have to do with this?”
“He paid off my previous debt to Little Nicky on the condition that I offer you a job.”
“My grandfather has connections with the mob?”
“You mean you didn’t know?”
“GRANDPA, it’s me, Ryan.”
“Ryan, my boy. Good to hear from you. Everything okay?”
Not really. Ryan rested on the end of the hotel bed while Parnell showered and shaved. He expected Anna to return with clothes for the boss any minute, so he planned to make the call short—which meant cutting to the chase and dispensing with pleasantries. “Are you involved with the mob?”
The soft whir of the connection greeted Ryan’s ears. His grandfather’s silence signified guilt. “Your name and Little Nicky’s came up in the same conversation.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, young man. I have never done anything illegal—”
“Grandpa, Parnell confessed you paid off a debt he owed the mob in order to land a job for me.”
“Parnell has a leaky mouth,” the old man grumbled.
“Yeah, well, the man’s got leaky pockets, too. He’s in more hot water with the mob.”
“I’m listening.”
At the hint of exhaustion in his grandfather’s voice, Ryan suffered a twinge of remorse. For thirty-five years, Patrick McKade had been a pillar of strength for him and his brothers, a man who’d supported them in good and in bad times. “Look, Grandpa—”
“Don’t you look me, grandson. What’s going on? Between the two of us, we’ll figure out a solution.”
“Parnell went on a gambling binge again. Little Nicky’s seizing the business.”
“How much is he in for?”
“Over three hundred thousand. He claims he signed over the station for a hundred thousand.”
“Have the station appraised and see what its worth is.”
Once in a while his grandfather’s thoughts jumped so far ahead, trying to keep pace was similar to peddling a bike after the chain fell off. “Why?”
“I had assumed you wanted to purchase the company from the mob.”
Now that his grandfather had voiced the idea…“I could make an offer.” For a guy who preferred to live in isolation, he was throwing himself in the fire on this one—but he’d do anything to help Anna and the others keep their jobs.
“Buying the business won’t solve the problem in the long run,” his grandfather contested.
“What do you mean?”
“Once a gambler, always a gambler. How will you prevent Parnell from putting the business up a second time in exchange for another loan from the mob?”
“Easy. McKade Import-Export will hold the legal rights to the business and I propose that Anna run the show. Parnell can keep his name on the station and continue working in some capacity if he cares to, but he won’t have access to the company’s finances.”
“Who do you have in mind for that responsibility—you?”
Ryan contemplated a change of career for all of two seconds. “As much as I haven’t minded working with my hands, I prefer building the McKade bank accounts to cleaning them out. I trust Anastazia Nowakowski to safeguard the company’s earnings.”
“Ah. The Polish girl.”
“How did you learn she was Polish?”
“With Nowakowski for a name? Does she have a good head for numbers?”
“She’s been acting boss for a while now. More important, she’s loyal.” Ryan considered the way Anna put the needs of others before herself. “She’ll do everything in her power to keep the company afloat.”
“Sounds as if you admire this woman.”
“I do.” He understood his grandfather wished to see all his grandsons married off with families of their own before he died. He wanted to inform his grandfather that he’d found happy-ever-after with Anna, but he couldn’t. Not until he knew where he stood with her. “We’re just friends.” And a whole lot more.
“You’ve got a few more weeks left on the job. Anything can happen.”
He and Anna had happened. He thought of how far he’d stepped out of his shell since he’d arrived at Parnell Brothers. “I realize I fought you in the beginning, Grandpa, but…thank you. For forcing me to accept this job. Forcing me to admit that I have a lot of living left to do.”
“I’ve always been proud of you, Ryan. It was simply a matter of time before you found your way back.”
“Well, I’m back, old man.”
His grandfather chortled with glee. “These life lessons for you and your brothers have cost me too much money. Next time I’ll just swat all your arses.”
“I love you.” Ryan’s throat tightened. He couldn’t remember ever telling the old man that he loved him.
“You be careful dealing with Little Nicky. You don’t want that handsome face of you
rs rearranged.”
“Bye, Grandpa.”
Ryan hung up the phone and pondered how to outcon a con man into helping him keep Anna’s family together.
AFTER RUNNING an errand to the hardware store for Leon, Ryan parked his coworker’s truck along the railroad tracks across the street from Mo’s Tavern, then cut the engine. He studied the seedy bar, which at ten-thirty in the morning was deserted, even though an Open sign hung in the front window. Ryan checked the address on the piece of paper Parnell had given him. Yep. This was the Scarlotto family headquarters.
Eager to get the visit over with, Ryan left the truck, hustled across the street and entered the bar. He paused inside the door while his eyes adjusted to the dim interior.
“You wanna drink or what?” the oily-headed bartender inquired, a cigarette butt dangling from his mouth. A halo of smoke circled the man’s head—but there was nothing angelic about him. A gruesome scar dissected one side of his face, beginning at the outer edge of his left eye, traveling across his cheek, then curving in and splitting his lower lip in half. Obviously, the guy had found himself on the wrong end of a knife blade.
“I’m here to see Nicky.”
Ryan caught the almost imperceptible pause of the dishrag swish-swashing across the bar. “Nicky expecting you?” The nasally voice must have resulted from the guy having had his nose smashed in a few times.
“Figured I’d drop in.” Before the barkeep hollered for Bruno the Bouncer to escort him from the premises, Ryan added, “My business concerns Parnell Brothers.”
“Wait here.”
The man disappeared through a door at the back. Ryan cozied up to the bar. Getting ready for work this morning had been more difficult than he’d expected. He wasn’t physically tired, but the weekend in Atlantic City had emotionally exhausted him and hadn’t ended the way he’d hoped—in Anna’s bed.
After Anna had purchased clothes for Parnell, Ryan had decided they drive back to Queens that night. He hadn’t trusted himself to keep his hands off Anna if they’d stayed at the hotel. And he hadn’t wanted to get naked with her while Parnell snoozed on the couch in the living room. That Anna had been disappointed in ending their weekend early had soothed his male ego.
