Chapter Seven
“Mr. O’Malley, I hope it’s not too late,” Angel said quietly into the phone in the upstairs study of the Martin home. “But you told me I could call anytime I knew something or needed help.”
“No, no, Angel,” he said, clearly struggling to wake up. “What’s up?”
“I’m leaving tonight.”
“What?”
“I’m leaving. And I’m not coming back.”
“You can’t do that,” O’Malley said coldly, quickly coming awake. “We have an agreement.”
“I don’t want to be part of it anymore.” “
Did Zach tell you to leave?”
“As a matter of fact, he did. But—”
“Traitor.”
“Look, leave him alone. He’s doing the best he can.”
“You’re defending him. You must still have a thing for him.”
“You should have told me that he worked for you.”
“That’s not strictly true. He’s actually in the appellate division.”
“Stop talking like a lawyer. He works in your office. He walks a tightrope for you.”
“You two went out in high school, didn’t you? Wasn’t there something about your christening? Some ancient ritual where you were promised to him?”
“Don’t play dumb. If you were smart enough to figure out the rest of my life you had to have figured this one out.”
“Look, did you get anything?” O’Malley switched subjects.
“No, but there was a fight.”
“A fight?”
“Rocco and Guy, Jr. They went up to the study after dinner to talk over some business matters and it got very contentious. The brawl spilled out into the rest of the house.”
“Rocco and Guy? Is Guy all right?”
“They struggled with a gun and Guy got shot, but I think it seemed like it was probably a flesh wound because he was able to walk out of the house on his own,” Angel said, before realizing that the question itself was surprising. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering,” O’Malley said. “I figure any fight with Rocco and Guy is going to end with Rocco on top. He’s quite a scrapper, that one. Real big guy. What hospital is Guy going to? And who’s taking him?”
“Zach is with him. And they’re going to some doctor that Tony recommended so that the police won’t be called in. Do you want to hear the rest of this?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s just I’m a detail guy. Want to know everything about everything before I hear the next thing. How’s Rocco?”
“He’s got a bloody nose. They’re going to have a meeting at ten tomorrow. Something about the shopping mall project and how they feel that Guy is not doing a good job. Guy feels he’s not being fairly treated.”’
“You have to stay.”
“I’m leaving.”
“No, Angel, think about the innocent people who live every day with the consequences of the criminal enterprise that’s hidden within the legitimate family business,” O’Malley said. “Hold on, I’ve got to turn on my light. Where was I? Oh, yeah. The prostitution, drugs, gambling, kickback schemes. It affects our children’s futures.”
“O’Malley, are you going to start crying now?” she asked, thinking of Zach’s cynical observations of his co-worker’s acting ability.
“I might. I sometimes get pretty worked up about criminals. Why do you ask?”
“Well, don’t bother. I’m not so sure about you anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I think you’re using me.”
“Of course I’m using you. I’m just using you for a good cause. You’re not leaving Chicago,” O’Malley said. “I’ve got a file on you. I know exactly who you are and where you are. And don’t think of trying to make a break for some new town, changing your name again, because I’d just figure that one out, too. And if you take Zach…I swear you’ll have me, your brothers and his family forming a posse to look for you. I’m your protection, Angel. Zach’s protection, too.”
“I thought you might do this,” she said. “Zach warned me.”
“I’m a jerk. But that’s because I’m a prosecutor. What can I say?”
“All right, what do you want me to do?” she asked woodenly.
“Follow the instructions. Get into the study.”
“I already did that.”
“Did you take any pictures? Put the recorder in? Did you catch the argument?”
“No, I wasn’t there for the argument. I got the recorder hidden in a bookshelf. I didn’t have time to retrieve it.”
“Well, make time in your busy schedule because this is important. That argument might have the key to the whole business. Take the camera and get pictures of any files and documents. Make sure there’s a fresh tape in the recorder for the ten o’clock meeting. And give the tape and the film from the camera to Zach. He’ll bring them to me.”
“What if he doesn’t cooperate with you?”
“He will—when it’s your life he’s saving. Oh, and Angel? Contact me as soon as you hear anything about Guy’s condition. Rocco’s, too.”
He hung up.
Angel gently put the phone down.
“How’s O’Malley?” a voice from behind her said.
Angel whirled around. Mrs. Martin, wearing the same beautiful silk suit she had worn to the funeral, stood in the doorway. How long had she been listening? Angel opened her mouth to protest that she hadn’t been talking to O’Malley and then decided it was useless.
“He’s fine.”
“Still determined to get his way?” The question was said without the hostility O’Malley usually engendered in the Martin and Sciopelli homes.
“Yeah,” Angel said.
“Cantankerous, isn’t he?”
“I suppose you could call him that. Do you know him personally?”
“I used to know him quite well,” Mrs. Martin said. “But it’s been more than thirty years.”
“Really?”
“We all grew up in the same neighborhood. Your father, my husband, O’Malley, me, even your mother. In Bridgeport, on the south side of Chicago. A neighborhood of steelworkers and their families,” she said, and for a moment it seemed as if she forgot that Angel was with her. “Funny the directions our lives have taken.”
“Mrs. Martin, do you know anything about what Guy was talking about? Being cut out of the shopping mall, the hauling trucks when they were empty?”
“No, I don’t,” she said abruptly. “Zach’s downstairs waiting for you. Guy was bandaged up and went off on his own somewhere.”
“I’ll being going, then.”
“For another ten years?”
“Maybe.”
“Good luck, then.”
She kissed Angel on the cheek. As Angel walked out the door, Mrs. Martin suddenly stopped her.
“I never told you how sorry I am about the deaths of your parents,” she said. “It must have been a terrible shock and a great loss.”
“Thank you,” Angel said. “It’s been difficult. But it must have been difficult for you and for your husband. Losing two very special friends.”
“It was very hard for me.”
“But not for your husband? I thought my father and he were the very best of friends.”
“Oh, dear, no, they hated each other in the worst kind of way.”
“Why? I always heard these wonderful stories about how they went into business together. Your husband ran the trucking and materials end of things and my father always handled the construction and sales. I thought they were friends even before they went into business.”
“They never told you about what happened before we were married,” Jeanne said, lapsing for a second time into a distant memory that only she could see. “I was a beauty, then.”
“You still are.”
“Not like then. I could have any man I wanted, in or out of Bridgeport. But I had grown up poor, an orphan passed around from family member to family me
mber, and I was determined to marry a man with a future.”
“And?”
Mrs. Martin suddenly became aware again of Angel’s presence.
“And the doctors say that he’s got a few more months, at any rate.”
“GOT YOUR PURSE? It’s time to go.”
Zach ran his fingers through his thick hair and tugged at the banded collar of the sage silk shirt he had borrowed from Guy’s closet upstairs. His own shirt he had simply thrown away, recognizing as soon as he had pulled off his suit jacket that blood had soaked completely through the familiar soft cotton.
He would have liked to have had time for a shower, a chance to run downtown to his own apartment for some much-needed sleep. But of course, there was no time.
The fight in the Sciopellis’ foyer had brought home the urgency of the situation.
He had to persuade Angel to leave, and once that was accomplished, he needed to get to her on the next flight out of town. Of course, she would do what he wanted’—after some persuasion. When she was young, she had always assumed he knew best—and now he counted on that instinctive, feminine reliance on his judgment.
She came down the steps, but lingered thought-fully at the acorn balustrade just a little too long for his liking. He tugged her hand.
“Come on, we need to talk. And then I’ve got you a seat on a plane that leaves in an hour.”
She tugged right back.
“Did you ever hear about your parents’ courtship?”
“Not much.”
“Did you know that O’Malley knew both our fathers when they were growing up?”
“No, but it doesn’t surprise me. Chicago’s a small town in some ways. O’Malley and our parents were all about the same age, growing up in a blue-collar neighborhood close to their parish.”
“Your mother was very beautiful. And had her pick of men.”
“She still is beautiful, and if she snapped her fingers this instant there’s a large segment of the male population that would come running,” he said, adding impatiently, “This is very interesting, Angel, but we don’t have to chat here. Let’s get in the car.”
“I talked to O’Malley,” she said, glancing back at the conservatory where his father’s daybed and reserve oxygen tanks were housed. The television, which would be left on until morning static, was lulling Mr. Martin to sleep. “I told him I was leaving.”
“Good. Because I was going to have that conversation with him if you didn’t. And my conversation would have been more contentious.”
“But he said no. He said I’m to tape the ten o’clock meeting and try to shoot pictures of as many documents as I can find tomorrow.”
“Did you tell him forget it?” Zach said, grinding his teeth so hard his jaw hurt
“He hung up before I could tell him.”
“Damn that man.”
“But, Zach, he said you would pick up the film and the tape.”
“Of all the arrogant, low-down…” He slammed his fist into his other hand. “I’ll have it out with him tonight.”
“No. Don’t. He’s right I should stay. I want to stay. I’ll have to get the tape I put in this evening out and replace it with a fresh tape. Will you take it in to O’Malley?”
Zach uttered an oath under his breath.
“And why are you supposed to do all that? And why am I supposed to willingly help?”
“Because he’s got an inch-thick file of information about who I am, where I am, what I do with my life. I can’t go back—he knows exactly where I’ll be. Zach, there’s no place safe for me to go.”
“Yes, there is,” Zach said. “I’ll give you a safe place. I’ll make you a safe place.”
He held her in his arms, soothing her trembling. She hadn’t allowed her fear to show, but now she let go. And he was there for her, bringing her into his protective warmth.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Zach soothed. “I haven’t for ten years. I’ve protected you and I’ll go on protecting you.”
“How have you protected me?”
“By staying.”
She broke away from his embrace and looked up at him suspiciously.
“Angel, O’Malley hasn’t got any state secrets. Your father always knew where you were,” Zach told her. “He could have tracked you down and taken you back anytime he wanted.”
“He could? O’Malley made it sound like he was doing me a great favor…”
“That’s O’Malley for you.”
“So my father knew.”
“Yes, he was just as able as O’Malley to cause you trouble. More so, perhaps. You hurt his pride and his heart by leaving.”
“And he knew where I was?”
“Yes. He wanted to track you down and bring you home. But I persuaded him to leave you alone and, for some reason, my staying was good enough for your father to leave you alone.”
“Did you know where I was?”
“No, I never asked and I didn’t want to know.”
“Why not?”
“Because the temptation to find you, to come to you, to be with you, would have been too great. I forced myself not to ask. But I’m sure your mother would have liked to have known about how you were,” he said, remembering the woman’s last words as she lay dying. “She loved you very much, with her last breath she told me how much.”
He didn’t explain that Mrs. Sciopelli had asked her to continue his role as protector, a role he had lived for all his life.
Angel thought soberly of her mother.
“What about my brothers?”
“I’m sure if they didn’t know where you were before, they will now. They have access to whatever’s in your father’s study, including any files or notes he may have kept. But I’ll cut them the same deal. I stay, you go. I stay, you’re safe.”
“What kind of power do you have that your staying is so important?”
“I’m still not quite sure, but it’s worked so far.”
“Why couldn’t you have done just as well by coming with me?”
“Because I have other people who need my protection,” he said, quieting her with a kiss.
The tender taste of vanilla and sweetness was his reward, and he hung on to her, savoring every moment.
Making love to her had satisfied his ten-year-long thirst, but had also lessened his drive to send her away.
She’s got to go! a voice inside his head warned.
“You’re going to leave now,” he said.
“I think I should stay.”
He ground his teeth.
She had changed a lot in ten years and, although he was a man who often used his charm successfully to convince people to do what he wanted them to do, he didn’t have the slightest clue how to handle this new Angel. He didn’t have the slightest clue how to work his charm when he most needed to.
“Angel, please, do as I say. Trust me.”
“This isn’t the sixteenth century, you know. And I can make my own decisions,” Angel replied.
“You’re crazy if you stay.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin pugnaciously. And he knew that simply telling Angel what to do had stopped working ten years ago.
But he still had one trick up the sleeve of his brother’s shirt and he pulled it out now.
He kissed her again and she stubbornly reacted with all the passion of a statue. But he had molded her tastes with his pleasure and she couldn’t hold out for long. Her lips parted, she took his tongue into her mouth and he thought he might kiss her forever.
But really only a moment and then he would tell her to go, to do as he said, while her defenses were down.
But he heard the soft padding coming down the stairs and looked up to see two little pink bunny slippers.
“Oh, Anna,” he said, breaking away from Angel. “Aren’t you up past your bedtime?”
A young woman, wearing a pink flannel gown and limp pink ribbons in her pigtails came to give him a hug. Her face was flatly planed, without
the high cheekbones and strong jaw of her brother Zach. Her eyes, the color of blue cotton candy, were almond shaped and gently reminded the observer that her options were limited, her innocence to be maintained forever.
“Yeah, it’s past my bedtime, but when I heard your voice, I knew you’d want to see the outfit I put on my new Barbie.”
She held up a Barbie doll fashionably dressed in sequins and tulle.
“Do you play Barbies?” she asked Angel. “’Cause I have really good Barbie dolls. Zach buys them for me. He just bought me the Malibu Beach House, but this one my mother got me.”
“That’s wonderful. Anna, do you remember me?” Angel asked gently. “I’m Angel. Angel Sciopelli.”
“Oh, Zach’s girlfriend,” Anna said, nodding. “You used to go with us when Zach would take me to the beach.”
“That’s right”
“I thought you were dead.”
“No, I’m very much alive.”
“That’s nice.”
“Anna, that’s really a glamorous outfit you put on the Barbie, but you’d better get back into bed,” Zach warned softly. He kissed her forehead. “Sleep tight.”
“And don’t let the bedbugs bite!” Anna finished with a triumphant giggle.
Angel patted her hand. “Sweet dreams, Anna.”
Anna walked up to the top of the stairs.
The couple turned to go.
“Angel?”
“Yes, Anna?”
“You’re not coming here to take my brother away from me, are you?”
“No, of course not,” Angel said, choking on her words.
“Because I’d miss him very much.”
A violent series of coughs erupted from the conservatory.
Anna startled.
“Inga! Inga! I need my pills!”
“Uh-oh, Daddy’s up. I’d better go. Good night. Zach, don’t forget you’re taking me to the zoo tomorrow! I want to see the monkeys.”
A tall, blond woman in a white nurse’s uniform hurried down the stairs, bobbing a hello to Zach. She ran to the conservatory.
“I won’t forget,” Zach said. “Don’t worry, Anna, I never forget.”
She beamed at him and then, on hearing her father’s orders to his nurse, she ran upstairs. Zach took Angel’s elbow and steered her outside.
His Betrothed Page 7
