“Even I don’t understand it,” Salvatore said quietly. “Zach’s now our partner?”
“All right, I’ll spell it out to you. The Martin family and Sciopelli family will finally work as partners,” Tony said amiably. “Zach and us will have an empire. A business empire. It’s a terrible, terrible tragedy that his older brother killed our parents and we are going to turn him over to the proper authorities. But we believe that out of tragedy can come good things.”
Angel stared at Zach openmouthed. Only after a moment did she have the presence of mind to say, “But you can’t possibly say you’re going to do this.”
“Angel, I’ve finally made my choices in life.”
“You’re just saying this because Tony made you or because you think it’s going to get us out of trouble.”
“Angel, if there’s one thing you oughta know about Zach—” Tony chuckled “—it’s that Zach is his own man. He doesn’t get pushed around and nobody makes him do anything. Even me. And he never, ever makes deals that he doesn’t intend on following through with. His handshake is golden. Right, Zach?”
“Right, Tony,” Zach said, staring directly at Angel.
“Zach, what is going on?” she demanded.
“Tony, let me talk to her on my own,” Zach said, pushing his new partner from the room. “It’s all right, buddy, I’ll talk sense into her. Woman trouble. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Better get her in line,” Tony warned.
Zach closed the door on her brothers.
Surely now, Zach would reveal himself, would take her into his arms and…
But he leaned negligently against the door, studying her from behind half-closed eyes.
“So, Angel, I made a deal. And now I want you to get out of here…assuming you want to go,” he said. “A ticket to Vegas. Not Des Moines or Davenport. Don’t go back there. Head for Vegas, spend a few nights clearing your head, play the tables a little and then start over. Someplace far away. Whole new life. A second chance, which is a helluva lot better than what you were faced with ten minutes ago.”
“Did you sell your soul to Tony to save my life?”
“I didn’t do anything that I haven’t thought about for some time. Now’s a good time for me to go into business with Tony. My father is going to die soon. My brother ordered the hit on your parents. And even if he didn’t, Guy is too irresponsible to run our business. We need the money. Just think of the expenses taking care of Anna.”
“So you’re going to run a trucking company?”
“My trucking company,” he corrected. “My family’s company. I have to do it. Did you know that Tony nearly hired a new trucking company because Guy wasn’t bringing materials in on time?”
“What about their other business?”
“What other business?”
“Prostitution, drug-running, money laundering.”
“You’ve never had a head for commerce, Angel. Lots of things get done among businessmen that isn’t looked upon kindly by the government But why should a bunch of bureaucrats in Washington be sticking their noses in our business?”
“You sound just like my father.”
“No, Angel, I sound just like my father. But my father and your father were very much alike. And I am cut from the same cloth.”
“I don’t believe you,” she accused. “You’re no friend of Tony, and you’ve never truly respected your father. Just last night you were telling me about how you had to warn him to not touch your mother or Anna.”
“Sure, I don’t believe in a man striking a woman, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to fulfill my destiny, to take care of my family. O’Malley’s never going to trust me, I’m never going to have a future in the D.A.’s office. So why shouldn’t I?”
“You can’t do this. You’re not that kind of man.”
“You’ve been gone for ten years,” he explained. “You have no idea what kind of man I’ve become. Just as I had no idea what kind of woman you had become. I like my women a little more deferential, a little more concerned with their man’s needs, a little more domestic. You don’t take orders too well, Angel. You have a problem with authority figures.”
“You like your women to be children.”
He shrugged, conceding that she was right. “You’ve changed, Angel. And it’s not all for the better.”
“But we made love. Didn’t you feel anything?”
“Sure. But I’ve had a little bit more experience than you. Enough to know that when the earth moves it doesn’t necessarily mean wedding bells and true bliss.”
“You’ve chosen.”
“Yes, I have.”
For the first time, Angel started to believe him.
“Angel, there are a lot of men and women who have worked for the Martin company their whole lives. People depend on the Martin company. How can I leave them with no one to run it?”
“So you’re doing it for them?”
“Yes. And for Anna, who needs a lot of care. And for myself. I need to do something with myself. I’ve been standing on the tightrope for too long. It’s time to stop the balancing act.”
“And what about us?”
Zach shoved his hands in his pants pockets.
“You can stay.” He shrugged, as if the matter was of little concern. “I’m not sure I’m ready to settle down, but maybe in a few years we could get married. We’d live in my father’s home. You’d have to stop being so independent. I won’t have a wife who works outside of the home. I want a lot of children, too. I’d raise them to join in the business when they grew up.”
That prospect was the most chilling of all and deflated Angel’s resistance to his new plans.
“You’d be a criminal,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “Because that’s what Tony is, in the end. That’s how he does business. He’s a thug. And you’d become one, too.”
“Don’t put it so coarsely.”
Angel felt as if she’d been slapped. Where was her Zach? Where was the man who knew right from wrong? Where was his honor? Had she been wrong about him?
“And if I don’t stay?”
“Start running. And don’t stop,” Zach said. “Don’t go back to Iowa. Too many people know where you’ve been. Don’t let them know where you’re going.”
“You can’t mean any of this,” Angel exploded, coming to him. She shoved him against the wall, giving in to the animalistic instinct that she could knock sense into him. But when her hands touched his flesh, he didn’t budge. “You can’t mean that you’re going into business with Tony. If nothing else, there was us. You and me.”
“What about you and me?”
She looked up at him in horror at his words, delivered with deadly calm.
“What do you think everything between us meant?” she asked.
“Oh, baby, it was good memories, a few laughs and some fantastic lovemaking,” Zach said, caressing her hair.
“You’re lying!” she cried. “Zach, you’re either lying or you’ve turned into a monster.”
His face reddened as if she had slapped him.
“This is reality, Angel. Face up to it. I watched you go to Vegas. Ten years ago. And, baby, I’m telling you to leave me now. Just like then. But this time you’ll know I’m not coming with you.”
“Kiss me first.”
He started, showing—for the first time since he had entered the room—a primitive fear.
“Why?”
“Kiss me first, before I go,” she challenged, sensing her advantage. “Your kisses won’t lie to me.”
He did, his lips hard and bruising, his arms fiercely squeezing hers. Her arms hurting as much as her feelings, she struggled against him, but he had her right where he wanted her.
In his own sweet time, he relinquished her as if she were of no more interest to him than a day-old newspaper.
“So, am I a liar?” he challenged lazily.
“Monster,” she corrected, rubbing her aching arms.
“May
be so,” he said. “Get on a plane. Get out and stay out. Don’t come back to Chicago for anything, Angel, because you’ve run out of second chances.”
And without another glance, he slammed the door behind him. She looked back at the table, at the yellow flowers. The tulips were drooping, the roses brown around the edges. She would hate yellow flowers for the rest of her life.
A gentle tapping on the door and Rocco announced that her cab was here.
“Rocco, please, you can’t believe that anyone in the Martin family would want Mother and Father dead,” she said when she came out into the hallway. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he picked up her suitcase, mumbled something unintelligible and headed downstairs.
“Salvatore, you can’t believe this,” Angel said to her loitering brother.
“I heard the tape the same as you,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Just get out, Angel. And remember, you’re the lucky one to have a chance to go.”
She hugged him, even though he tried to duck her. He had always thought he was too old for hugs. But when her arms were fast about him, he responded.
“Angel, I won’t see you again,” he said. “But have a good life. A quiet life. A boring life. I think it wouldn’t be so bad to have boring.”
He broke away from her and, without a backward glance, walked to the study.
Chapter Twelve
Two hours later, at the door of the Bella Winnetka restaurant, Tony held Maria’s sable fur wrap for her. The wrap had been sent up that afternoon by a swank Michigan Avenue furrier.
He was so proud, so happy and so relieved. He had come out on top. Where he belonged.
“Tony, I don’t need this fur tonight,” Maria said. “Don’t you think sable looks a little…gauche in summer? Especially after your parents’ funeral? And after I spent all that money at Chanel today?”
“Nah, it looks great. Have to keep you warm,” he said, knowing he was spoiling her and knowing that he wanted to spend the rest of his life spoiling her because it kept her happy. Her happiness was the one calm thing in his life. “Besides, a sable lets them know that we’re successful.”
“But I feel so terrible you getting this present for me only two days after we’ve buried your parents.”
“Better to feel terrible in sable,” he quipped, not telling her that he was actually in a celebratory mood this evening.
He nodded at his assistant, who glanced out the door to the men at the waiting Jaguar convertible.
“All clear, Tony,” the assistant said.
The street was cooler than the restaurant, heavy with Lake Michigan mist. Winnetka was a small suburb and had only a few streetlights. Tony made a mental note to tell the village’s streets department that they’d need more once the shopping mall was opened. He pictured something quaint, like the gaslights of olden days.
Maria could find them—she was good at tracking down beautiful things. He was really starting to appreciate her good qualities, especially since they had put their marriage back on track.
He escorted Maria to the door of the black Jaguar. He signaled his men that they could get into their cars—the twin Caddies parked across the street.
Tony turned around, feeling Maria clutch his sleeve.
“Tony, you go on in the car, I just want to look at that window,” Maria said, pointing to a boutique. A glance at her charges this past month had informed Tony that this was her favorite shop. Maybe he could persuade the manager to open-a new shop in his mall with a little kickback on Maria’s purchases.
Funny how his mind always turned to business. His father would be proud of him.
He shuddered as he thought of his father lying dead on the parkway in front of the restaurant where they had planned their celebration.
“Sure, you go look. I’ll get the car nice and cool for you,” he said, marveling at her capacity to spend money and think about spending money.
He got in the car, and nodded to his men, then remembered that they couldn’t see him through the tinted glass. He turned the ignition.
Something felt funny at his fingertips, like the wiggle of a fish about to escape his grasp.
And then Tony looked one last time at his beautiful wife, his only regret that he couldn’t see her face once again, as she turned away to look at the display of sweaters.
“I love you,” he said, knowing that she couldn’t hear him.
There was an explosion, the shouts of Tony’s men scrambling out of their Cadillacs.
One of Tony’s bodyguards tackled Maria, just as she turned to see the bonfire, just as she tried to enter the flames to pull her husband to safety.
THE MARTIN TELEPHONE rang. Inga, the night nurse, picked it up in the conservatory and held the receiver to Mr; Martin’s ear.
“Hello,” he said.
There was a silence and then a fumbling at the other end.
“Hang up, Jeanne, it’s for me.”
The extension was put down.
“So?” Guy asked.
“You didn’t tell me about Tony,” a woman’s voice said.
He glanced at Inga, straining to catch a glimpse of her full, round breasts as she leaned toward him with the phone. He might be too old to do anything, but he still liked to look.
“What about him?”
“He’s dead.”
Guy smiled, and Inga, misinterpreting again, looked down to see that the zipper of her nurse’s uniform revealed too much. She sat up straight and said something in Swedish that he guessed was a rebuff.
“You got your money,” Guy said. He didn’t have to choose his words with too much care. Inga barely understood English. “And there will be more. You keep the five when the job’s complete. We agreed to that.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“Life doesn’t have any more surprises in store for me. And this job doesn’t have any more surprises in store for you. Let’s just be done with it.”
The woman hung up first.
He didn’t like that in a woman, but she was a professional and he’d have to live with it.
ZACH UNLOCKED THE DOOR of his Gold Coast apartment and flipped on the light.
He switched on a Tiffany torchère in the living room and snagged a cola from the refrigerator. Then he walked back into the bedroom and listened to the messages on his voice mail. Two from O’Malley, demanding he do his job without so much complaining, and saying the tape from the Sciopelli study from the previous evening was useful and when were there going to be more.
A third message was from a woman in his building saying she just happened to have two tickets to the opera and her mother, with whom she usually went, was unable to attend.
“Would you give me a call?” she purred. “I just need an escort for the evening. No pressure. This isn’t a date, really. Just opera.”
He shook his head. The woman had asked him out on three other occasions—and each time he had had to respectfully and diplomatically decline. Somehow it had been off-putting to have her doing the pursuing.
Maybe Angel was right—maybe he was a man better suited for the sixteenth century.
Four hang-ups.
And then his brother.
“Zach, Zach, it’s me. Pick up, won’t you? Dammit, I need to talk to you. I need your help. I know I’ve been a jerk sometimes, but this is important. Pick up the phone. Now. Please.”
Guy was already feeling the heat. No doubt the Sciopelli brothers were looking for him.
Zach wished he could do something for his older brother, but if Guy had ordered the hit on the Sciopelli family, Zach’s ability to shield him was limited. Unless he could get him to O’Malley. Even then, in the arms of the law, a jail-house assassination wasn’t unheard of.
But what if Guy was innocent?
He closed his eyes. Zach had already sold his soul to protect Angel’s life. And sister, Anna. And his mother and the scant remaining days of his father.
And then there was his brother.
And Zach, though younger, would get him out of it. Whether it was beating up a schoolyard bully or gently telling a woman that she was wasting her time with Guy, Zach would work a miracle.
And Guy would express his gratitude and then go out and break every promise he had made to do better. They had left Dr. Morgan’s Glencoe home with a bottle of painkillers, a bandaged shoulder and Guy’s vow that he would be a perfect gentleman at the meeting with the Sciopelli brothers.
How long could he protect Guy from his own stupidity?
The devil never keeps his end of the bargain, O’Malley had said. And though he had bargained with Tony to let the law take its due from Guy, Zach knew the devil would break his promise.
He’d have to find Guy and bring him in himself.
He heard a noise in the living room and he slid his gun from his shoulder holster.
A lot of people were counting on him living a good, long life—he had to take care of himself, he mused bitterly.
He slipped down the hallway noiselessly. He paused at the kitchen door. He was positive now he heard someone in the living room.
He took a deep breath, flicked the safety on the gun, rolled out onto the living room floor and trained his sights on a shadow moving in front of the door.
Groaning, he caught the safety and threw his gun to the ground.
“I thought I told you to get out of here, Angel.”
“You know I never do what I’m told.”
“Well, you can’t stay with me, because I like an old-fashioned girl. The kind who does what her man tells her to do.” He had chosen his words carefully, hoping to antagonize her.
But when she turned, her blond hair fanning out behind her, she was as cool and self-possessed as the woman with the tickets to the opera.
“I’m not staying,” she said.
“So what’d you do? Forget something?” He picked himself up and put his gun back in his holster.
“Yeah, I forgot this,” she said, and came into his arms.
His Betrothed Page 10
