Deceiving Bella: Book Eleven In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series

by Beauman, Cate

  “Your father was a participant in Witness Protection?”

  She nodded. “But it’s only recently that I was made aware of that.”

  He scribbled a note on his yellow legal pad. “You didn’t know your father was part of the Witness Protection Program?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “When did you find out?”

  “Um, just about three weeks ago. I stumbled upon him making a recording for the FBI—or you, I guess.” She cleared her throat as she glanced at Reed.

  “Ms. Colby, as we move forward, I would like to refer to your father as Nicoli to keep his alias protected and you safe.”

  She nodded. “All right.”

  “Nicoli helped raise you?”

  “Until I was five. He left a few days before my fifth birthday.”

  “Can you tell me more about that?”

  She gripped her hands in her lap, realizing that today was going to be not only nerve-wracking but also painful. “My father shared with me that he had been recognized and thought it safest to leave my mother and me behind. He didn’t want us living the life that’s required of someone in the program. One night, he told me he had to go and was gone the next morning.”

  The DA added another note to his sheet. “Thank you.”

  Bella went on to answer question after question about her time with Dad as a little girl, sharing the few pathetic details she could remember before they moved on to discuss their relationship from the moment she knocked on his door in Reseda until his death.

  The DA sat back in his chair and laced his fingers. “Tell me what you know about Alfeo Caparelli.”

  “Not much. Just that he’s the head of the Caparelli crime family, he’s in prison, and he’s a terrible, dangerous man.”

  “Would you say you’re afraid of your uncle?”

  “As I said, I don’t know him. I can only go by the stories I’ve heard—the facts that I’ve read in the news or that Reed or my father have shared—but I’m certainly afraid of any man who would kill his brother if he had the chance and murdered a pregnant woman in cold blood. My father was very much afraid for me.”

  The DA sat up again. “Thank you, Ms. Colby.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He flipped the pages of his notebook closed. “I think that’s all I need.”

  She frowned. “That’s it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s next? Will I go before the grand jury?”

  “No, but I appreciate you flying all the way in from California.”

  “But I want to help. I must have told you something that might be helpful.”

  “You gave me a glimpse into Nicoli Caparelli—one I haven’t seen before.”

  “Maybe that would be beneficial to the trial.”

  “Ms. Colby, our goal is always to protect our witnesses. Although I’m grateful for your time, I didn’t find anything particularly compelling about your testimony—certainly nothing that warrants the risks of exposing your identity on the witness stand. The Caparellis are extremely dangerous. I would like to keep you away from that.”

  But Reed still had to risk it all. “Thank you,” she said again and stood, walking into the hall, fairly certain she couldn’t have failed her father or Reed more than she just did.

  Reed followed, pulling her back into the room where Skylar waited. “You did a good job.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  He frowned, taking her hands and tugging her into the corner with him. “Why are you apologizing?”

  “I wanted to do more. I wanted to help you.”

  “All I’ve ever wanted is to keep you out of this whole damn mess.”

  “But—”

  “I’m glad they won’t use you. I’m glad, Bella.” He squeezed her fingers. “I would have fought him—gone above his head if he had made any other decision.”

  She felt her shoulders stiffen.

  “I need you safe.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “There’s nothing more important than your safety.”

  “What about yours?”

  “I’m going to be fine.”

  She held his stare, not quite so sure.

  The interior door opened to a large conference-type room, and the assistant DA walked in. “We’re ready for you, Mr. McKinley.”

  “Thank you.” He gave Bella his attention. “Stay here with Skylar. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Okay.”

  He walked out with the assistant DA, and Bella looked at Skylar.

  “I guess we’re stuck here for a while.”

  Skylar glanced up from her phone mid-text. “You might as well take a seat.”

  She stayed on her feet, not loving Skylar’s tone. “You don’t like me much, do you?”

  Skylar lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, holding her stare. “Reed deserves to be happy. You make him happy and I’ll like you just fine.”

  She settled her purse more securely on her shoulder, refusing to be intimidated by the woman across the room. “Our relationship is complicated, but we’re trying to figure things out.”

  “Good.” Skylar’s phone rang. “Special Agent Grayson.” She held up a finger to Bella, signaling for one minute, and walked into the hall.

  Bella sighed and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, never a big fan of drama, but she couldn’t blame Reed’s friend for looking out for him. His buddies were protective. How could she fault them for that? She sat down and pulled out her phone to check her email, then glanced up when she heard the voices in the room where Reed had disappeared. Standing, she walked to the door that had been left ajar and caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she opened it further to peek in, watching Reed while he sat in a chair across from a group of individuals at a conference table.

  “Please state your name for the grand jury,” DA Moore said.

  “My name is Reed McKinley.”

  “Mr. McKinley, please share with us your background.”

  “I’m a former undercover officer with NYPD. I worked deep cover in the Special Organized Crime Unit infiltrating the Caparelli crime family for seven years.”

  “If the group can focus their attention on the screen, please. Many of the images you’re about to see are quite graphic,” the DA warned as the lights were dimmed and a picture appeared on the projector.

  Bella moved closer to the crack, staring at a light-colored sedan with blood spattered around broken glass, realizing they were crime scene photographs.

  “Mr. McKinley, you have more than just a law enforcement connection to the Caparelli crime family, correct?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Do you recognize this photograph?”

  “Yes. That’s a crime scene photo from May twenty-sixth, 1989.”

  “Mr. McKinley, how old were you in May of 1989?”

  “Five—nearly six.”

  A picture of a small boy wrapped in a blanket, clinging to a police officer, filled the screen. The image shattered Bella’s heart, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the child’s terrified blue eyes—Reed’s eyes.

  “Mr. McKinley, do you know who that child is?”

  “Yes. That’s me.”

  “You’re five in this picture?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you describe what’s going on in this photograph, please?”

  “I was being taken away from my family car. My father and grandfather had been assassinated minutes before. The officer carrying me found me in the back seat.”

  Another gruesome picture appeared—so much blood and two male bodies slumped in seats.

  Bella pressed her hand to her mouth, wanting to look away, but she made herself watch Reed’s worst moments play out in a horrific slide show.

  “Tell us about this picture please, Mr. McKinley. I’m sorry if this is tough.”

  He nodded. “The driver is my father with a fatal gunshot wound to the left temple, and the passenger is my grandfather, also with a fatal g
unshot wound to the right temple.”

  “And you were in the back of the car at the time of the murders?”

  “Yes. I was lying down when my family was killed.”

  “Hiding under a blanket?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  DA Moore moved back to his table, flipping through several sheets of paper. “The police report says you were hiding under the blanket.”

  “I hid after I saw what happened to my dad and grandpa. If you’ll return to the picture where the officer is holding me, you’ll see that I have blood and brain matter in my hair, which corroborates my memories.”

  The projector moved to the previous slide, and there was indeed blood and brain matter in the sweet little boy’s hair—on his cheeks.

  Bella shook her head, unable to hold back her tears. “You poor baby,” she whispered.

  “Your father was a police officer?”

  “Yes. A detective with NYPD. He’d moved over to the Special Organized Crime Unit a year before his death.”

  And your grandfather?”

  “He was a Senior Special Agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. My father and grandfather were working as a father/son unit as part of their cover while they infiltrated the Caparelli crime family.”

  “There was another murder the night your father and grandfather were killed.” A new picture appeared of a man lying dead—shot in the head and staring blankly by a kitchen stove. “Can you tell us who this man is, Mr. McKinley?”

  “That’s my Uncle Mason. My father’s brother. He was murdered in front of his wife at their home.”

  “He was also an NYPD officer, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “What part did he play in the Caparelli investigation?”

  “None whatsoever. He was a beat cop for fifteen years before his death.”

  “On the night of your family’s massacre, it was reported that you heard the men approaching the car, saying something about Alfeo Caparelli.”

  “Yes. I heard the man by my father’s door say ‘This is from Alfie’ before he shot my father.”

  “Alfeo Caparelli shot your father?”

  “No. Alfeo Caparelli’s hit team shot my father on Alfeo Caparelli’s orders.”

  “That’s a strong statement—a damning accusation.”

  “It’s a fact.”

  “Then why was Alfeo Caparelli never charged with the capital murders of three law enforcement officers, Mr. McKinley?”

  “I was interviewed by the police on several different occasions after my family’s murders. I spoke of Alfeo Caparelli at the scene but never mentioned him again after. The authorities were unable to move forward with charges without stronger evidence.”

  “Yet you remember the incident you’ve described as fact?”

  He nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Mr. McKinley, you were very young at the time. Not even out of kindergarten.”

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t it possible that your memories have become inaccurate over time? Perhaps skewed is a better word.”

  He shook his head. “That night is something I’ll never forget. Can’t forget. I remember it like a dream, but the dream has stayed one hundred percent consistent for nearly twenty-six years.”

  “Thank you, Mr. McKinley.” The projector moved on to new slides dated from last year as the DA fast-forwarded to the July night Reed was shot.

  Bella wiped her cheeks, watching Reed patiently explaining photos of his and Joey’s post-surgery wounds, pictures of evidence markers placed next to their pools of blood at the warehouse crime scene, and another photograph of him and Joe sitting side by side in wheelchairs, holding IV poles while giving the camera thumbs-up. He’d been through hell. Reed had lived through unimaginable tragedies and violence, yet he was an amazing man. He had every right to be angry and bitter, but he regularly brought the woman he loved flowers and befriended disfigured little girls. He’d helped care for a cancer-stricken man he easily could have hated.

  She moved to one of the benches and sat down, having seen more than enough finally to understand. Reed had lied to her so many times, but he’d done so to save her—and maybe himself in the process. Something was dead inside me before we met. She closed her eyes, remembering the cozy moment on her kitchen floor when they’d been caught up in each other—when they’d been happy and nothing else mattered. All this time, she’d needed Reed to be her normal, but he needed her to be his normal too—a chance to start over and leave the past behind. She finally got that she couldn’t save him from the Caparellis, but they could save each other from the aftermath and build a beautiful life.

  She looked up when Skylar walked into the room and shut the door.

  Skylar frowned. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, but she wasn’t. Nothing would be okay again until she could talk to Reed and make things right.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Bella waited for Reed to unlock their hotel room door and walked inside.

  “Go ahead and get the lock,” he said as he shut them in for the night and followed the same procedure he had earlier in the afternoon—looking in the closet, under the bed, and in the bathroom.

  She secured the deadbolt and threw the latch in place for good measure, then slipped off her shoes, wiggling her toes as she set down her purse. The ride back from the courthouse had been long and quiet. Reed hadn’t said much—just held her hand as they made their way through the city.

  He walked out of the bathroom, rubbing at his jaw, then the back of his neck—telltale signs that he was edgy after a long day. “Everything looks fine.”

  But he didn’t. She studied his eyes, seeing the strain he tried to hide. “Good.”

  “Joe’s bringing us dinner in about an hour.” He took off his jacket and holster, hanging both on the back of the desk chair. “We’ll figure out how we’re going to work things tomorrow since I have to go back—”

  Unable to take it any longer, she closed the distance between them and wrapped him up in a hug. Dinner and tomorrow didn’t matter right now.

  “Whoa.” He returned her embrace, gripping her tight.

  She closed her eyes, settling her cheek on his firm chest, and breathed him in.

  He rested his chin on top of her head. “What’s all this?”

  She burrowed closer. “You have every right to be horrible, but you’re not.”

  He eased her back. “What’s going on, Bella?”

  Her eyes filled as she held his gaze, swamped by a wave of love, hurting for him. “You tried to tell me. And your mom tried to tell me. Aunt Bonnie and even my dad too, but today I saw everything for myself, and I’m so sorry.”

  He slid his thumbs along her cheeks, catching her tears. “Don’t cry.”

  She sniffled, shaking her head. “I’m not. Truly. I’m just—I’m sorry.”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure what we’re talking about here.”

  “I saw the pictures. I heard what you lived through. The door was open to the grand jury room, and I eavesdropped when Skylar left—”

  His frown deepened. “Skylar left you?”

  She shook her head. “She was in the hall. I was fine. That doesn’t matter anyway. I saw, Reed. You were so little. Those photographs broke my heart.”

  “We all live with stuff.”

  “Not stuff like that.”

  He clenched his jaw. “You didn’t have it easy growing up either.”

  “My childhood was certainly different, but my worst day never compared to yours.” Her eyes welled again.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “But you carry it with you. You said so yourself. You can never forget it. I can see it in your eyes right now—the pain today caused you.”

  He stepped away, jamming his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I do.” She took his hand, stopping him from turning away. “I want all of you, Reed. The triumphs and tragedies. The good and the ba
d. Your faults and virtues. Everything that makes you who you are. I need you to trust me.”

  “I do.”

  She brought his knuckles to her cheek, nuzzling him. “I want for you to be able to tell me anything and everything the way I can you. That’s the only way this is going to work.”

  His eyes sharpened on hers. “What are you saying right now?”

  “I’m saying I love you and I’ve been so wrong.”

  He cradled her face. “Bella—”

  She gripped his wrists. “The lies and secrets hurt me so badly—”

  “I never wanted to hurt you. Through all of this, I never, ever wanted to hurt you.”

  She nodded. “I know. I understand that now. I think I’ve understood that all along…” She took a deep breath. “I’m still scared, but I’m more afraid of being without you. I don’t want to live without you.”

  He kissed her, diving deep and groaning as he plundered.

  She moaned, standing on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around the back of his neck as she savored the bold taste of him and the way her body molded so perfectly to his. This was what it felt like to be warm again—to be whole.

  “I want to start over,” he said, pressing kisses to her chin and jaw. “Let’s go back to the beginning and do this right—the way I wish we could have all along.”

  She loosened his tie, pulling it off. “But I love so much of who we are—of what we already have.”

  He gently pulled the elastic from her hair and freed her long locks from her braid. “So we’ll tweak the couple of parts that need a little maintenance.”

  “I like that idea.” She went after the buttons on his shirt. “I guess if we’re starting over, we’ll need a first date.”

  He grinned. “If I could walk out the door with you right now, I would. I’d bring you to the park, but we’re going to have to wait until all of this is over.”

  “We can do the park next time.” She snagged his ear, nipping and tugging with her teeth. “I guess you’ll just have to take me to bed. We’ll live on the edge and pretend I’m easy. Tonight you’re hitting a home run and you didn’t even buy me dinner first.”

  He laughed, sending his hands on a journey down her back and over her ass. “I’m not really into easy chicks.”