“You’ll definitely be to blame. And I’ll kiss you like that whenever I fucking want to.”
“Well, I look forward to it.”
“I bet you do.” Tenderly, I pressed my lips to his forehead. “We can go now.”
“What if I’m not ready?”
“Then we can stay.”
“What’s happened to you? You’re more compliant,” he teased, lifting me.
I wrapped my legs around his waist. “I’m very easygoing when I want to be.” I dipped my head toward his for another kiss, his lips too hard to resist. He pulled back, out of reach.
“Is there something I can do for you, Vivian?”
He was sexy as fuck when he was playful. I wanted to lick him all over. “Stop talking and kiss me.”
I made another attempt, but he was too quick.
“I could, but what would I get out of that?” he asked.
“A lot more than I would,” I sassed.
And damn him, if he didn’t laugh. And damn me, if I didn’t join in. “Damn it, V. You’ve always got a point.” V. He’d called me V. My heart stopped for a beat, and I felt something I was desperate to hang onto.
This time, Daniel instigated the meeting of our mouths, and it was different from before. No less impassioned, maybe more so, but the desperation had worn off, and he took his time, savoring me. I let him do as he pleased. It felt too good not to. I writhed against him for any kind of friction, and he hissed when I brushed his erection. He ripped his lips off of mine, an almost pained sound coming from him. He rested his forehead against mine as we panted, breathless.
“Vivian.”
I loved the sound of my name on his lips. It was a declaration of reverence.
“We need to go, or we’ll be spending Christmas Eve on the side of the road.”
“I don’t care.” And I didn’t.
He smiled, and I tightened my grip on him. “I think we can do better than this.”
“Well, it’s going to be pretty damn difficult to top,” I declared.
“I’m up for it.” His brow creased. “I’ve outdone myself on this first date. What the hell am I going to do for an encore?”
“Are you asking me out again?”
“I am.”
“You could put me in charge,” I suggested.
“Are you agreeing to another date?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll let you handle our hundredth date.”
“Why hundredth?” I gave him a quizzical look.
“Figure you’d at least stick around that long just so you could have your way.”
“I’ll have my way regardless.”
“You sure about that, Princess?”
“Positive.” He carried me to the Land Rover and deposited me inside. “One hundred dates is an awful lot.”
“I didn’t think it sounded like near enough,” Daniel said. He slipped on his sunglasses and fired up the engine, turning up the volume on Madonna. I looked at him like he’d been invaded by aliens, and then I settled back in my seat.
“The third date is mine,” I said once we were back on the road.
“Are you asking me out?” he asked, and I wished I could see his eyes behind the lenses of his aviators.
“I am,” I confirmed.
“Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we? Shouldn’t we see how the second date goes?”
“This, from the man who’s already counting on a hundred? You know, if all our dates last over two weeks, we’re talking about years?”
“I’m perfectly aware of that,” he replied haughtily.
“So you’re agreeing to a third date?”
“Yup.” He paused. “Actually, I’m agreeing to ninety-nine more.”
“Eyes on the road, Princess.” I pointed out the windshield. “So what happens after one hundred?” I tried not to sound too anxious. We were on the ninth day of our first date, and I was getting ahead of myself, but I wanted to know.
“Unless I absolutely hate where you take me, I guess we’ll go for one hundred and one,” he replied easily, and I let out a sigh of relief. I halfway expected him to say that was all he was going to give me.
“You’ll love it, whatever we do,” I told him. “And stop trying to play it cool. You already want infinite dates with me.” He didn’t deny it.
“Vivian.” My stomach dipped when his hand found my thigh. “I’m not the only one.”
“I’m sure you’re not. There are probably thousands of people who would love to have me for infinity.”
I couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but I didn’t need to know he’d just rolled them. “You want me for infinity,” he clarified, as if I didn’t already know what he meant.
“Guess we’ll have to see about that.”
30
Daniel
Present
“Agent Alvarez. Thank you for meeting me.” I thrust my hand out to Donato’s contact in the FBI, assessing as we shook. He had a few years on me, the lines around his mouth indicating he was very likely a smoker. The ones around his eyes were deep set, evidence of the things he’d seen that no amount of booze, painkillers, or time could erase.
“You certainly got my attention with your phone call.” He unbuttoned his black suit coat and slipped his hands into his pockets.
“Mind if we walk?” I’d chosen Rockefeller Park instead of a restaurant or the apartment because I needed the air. And Vivian loved it here. Somehow she gave me strength even when we were apart.
“I could use the fresh air.” He lifted a shoulder. “Well, outside air,” he amended.
I was supposed to crack a smile, but couldn’t find it in me. Instead, I wandered along the Hudson, hands in my suit pockets mirroring the agent. I took in my surroundings as I walked. A ferry glided across the water. Buildings stretched high above, kissing the sky. Fall wind caressed the trees, leaves raining to the grass. A couple jogged past, their pace in step as they weaved around us.
Agent Alvarez waited for me to speak, seemingly content to match my strides for as long as I wanted. I reminded myself that Donato trusted him, so I’d have to as well. This decision was easy, and yet I was stalling. I could make up a reason for why I’d phoned him and then go get Vivian. Pretend it was out of my hands.
Except that wasn’t who I was. It wasn’t the man she expected me to be. And with all the shit with Vinny, maybe this was another way to protect her.
“Donato didn’t murder my father,” I said evenly without slowing my steps. I turned to face Agent Alvarez, our eyes meeting. “I did.”
I had to give the man credit. Only one brow slightly lifted in surprise before his expression turned neutral. “Daniel, before you say anything else, I want to be sure you know the penalty for this can be life without parole.”
“Did you know my father spent all of my mother’s money? That he treated her like shit, and she never once complained?” I looked out at the river, picturing my mother’s smile. “She passed away when I was young. Then there was no one to protect me from him.”
These were things I didn’t discuss, but he needed motive, and I was going to give him plenty.
“None of that means you killed him,” he pointed out.
I ignored him and went on. “Did you also know that when I was fifteen he sold me out to Francisco Angelone?”
I waited for him to answer with a level stare. He shook his head. “No. I wasn’t aware.”
“He always looked out for number one. And the fucker never stopped until the day he died.”
“A lot of people hate their father without killing him.”
My brow creased. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the guy was trying to give me a way out. “Get out your recorder or a notepad. This is my confession.” I looked at him directly in the eyes. “I killed my father.”
Agent Alvarez made no move; we just kept walking as I detailed what happened that day as I’d rehearsed it in my head a thousand times. The last thing I needed to do was say t
oo much.
Finally, the man stopped. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped one out, offering it to me. I declined, and he lit up. He took a long drag and tilted his head toward the sky, blowing out a long stream of smoke.
“He protects you. And you’d do anything to protect him.” We weren’t talking about my father anymore.
“Do you have kids, Agent Alvarez?” I leaned against the railing that ran along the path, and he joined me.
“Three. A girl and two boys.”
The smoke wafted toward me, stinging my nostrils. We should have met at a bar. I needed a stiff drink right about now.
“Is there anything you wouldn’t do for them?” I asked pointedly.
“Not a damn thing.”
I wrapped my fingers around the thick metal railing that was cool to the touch. “Until I was fifteen, I had no idea what that was like. Really until later if I’m being honest. It took me quite some time to realize that all fathers are not monsters.”
“You’re doing this with or without me,” he concluded.
“Justice needs to be served. I can’t let you put an innocent man away for my crime,” I said smoothly.
He sniffed, a corner of his mouth lifting. “Donato? Innocent?”
“He is in this matter.”
“Then I guess this is where I take you in.” With one last drag, he flicked the cigarette to the sidewalk and ground it out with his shoe. He pointed his chin in the direction of the city.
“Isn’t this the part where you read me my rights and cuff me?” I asked wryly as I pushed off the railing.
“I’ll do it in the car. And I won’t cuff you until we get to the station. Somehow, I don’t think you’re a flight risk.”
We pulled into an underground garage, and I regretted not taking one last breath of fresh air in the park. It hit me that I didn’t know when I’d see the outside world again. Until I was certain that Donato was cleared of my father’s murder, I wouldn’t try too hard to get out. In fact, I’d do all I could to stay in.
Agent Alvarez doubted me, but I had to trust that he’d go with it. I had the motive. More motive than anyone else. That was going to have to do until I found some concrete evidence to point in my direction. I’d been working on it, but with a crime that happened so long ago, definitive proof didn’t come easy.
I stood tall as we ascended. Alvarez loosely handcuffed me, and I followed him out of the elevator onto the sixth floor lobby, which was all gray. Gray walls. Gray carpet. Gray ceiling. All in varying shades. The hallway and the holding room in which I was placed were no different.
Alvarez shifted the cuffs so that they were in front of me. They were frigid against my skin, as if none of my warmth had seeped into the metal. I tested the resistance. Being restrained made me itch to be loose. How had Vivian tolerated my ties, my belt, her stockings wrapped around her wrists? She relaxed in my binds, but this was nothing like that.
Agent Alvarez left me on my own, and I sank into the cold metal chair. The feet scraped against the laminate floor, and the sound echoed through the room. I tested the resistance of the cuffs again, the links between them clanking as I pulled. Panic began to build.
I inhaled the stale air, attempting to steady my nerves. This was what must be done, I told myself over and over. I couldn’t let another man pay my penance…especially not Donato. Not after everything he’d done for me.
My phone vibrated against my chest from the inside pocket of my suit jacket. If I wanted, I could answer, but whoever it was would have to wait. I needed to concentrate on what was at hand. Forget about the outside world.
What if it’s Vivian? Or Muriella?
I lifted my hands and awkwardly fumbled for the now still phone. It took me four tries to get it out, and once I saw it was only Donato, I regretted my wasted effort. I dropped the phone on the steel table and sagged in my chair.
My foot tapped a restless rhythm on the floor. What if Vivian or Muriella needed me though? I hadn’t expected to be taken in on the spot. “Goddammit.”
“Already regretting your choice?” Agent Alvarez filed in with another man in a dark suit, both of them wearing skinny ties. His demeanor had shifted. When we’d been alone, he had almost felt trustworthy. Almost. Now, he appeared smug and completely unsympathetic. Like I was a murderer.
“There was no choice,” I said, picking up my phone and spinning it in my hand.
“I’ll be needing that.” He pointed his chin at the cell phone, but didn’t take it. “This is Agent Sampson.”
I acknowledged the other man with a flick of my eyes before returning them to Alvarez. Sampson had a notebook laptop under his arm. Both of them took a seat in the chairs across from me.
“Would you like coffee? Water?” Sampson asked. Ah…now he was the good cop. “I’d offer something stronger, but it’s against procedure.” A practiced smile graced his lips.
“Nothing,” I answered in a clipped tone.
If it affronted him, he showed no sign, simply setting up his laptop. Alvarez placed his phone on the table, pressing the screen a few times.
“You’ve waived the right to have an attorney present. Your statement is being written and recorded,” he said. I glanced at the red light on the camera in the corner of the room and wondered who else was watching on the other side.
I appreciated that Donato had kept me from this side of things, but hated feeling out of my element. I didn’t know what to expect, had no feel for what was coming next…other than a cell.
“Did either of you catch the Yankees game this afternoon? I haven’t seen the score,” Agent Sampson said. I couldn’t tell if he was actually doing anything on his laptop or just pretending to fiddle.
My gut reaction was to scream, but if this was how I had to play it, so be it. “They lost,” I said stoically.
The two men appeared surprised by my answer, though they recovered quickly. “Damn shame.” Sampson made a disgusted face. I simply stared. He cleared his throat. “Ready when you are, Mr. Elliott.”
“I killed my father, Keith Elliott,” I began. My voice didn’t waver. There was no hesitation. It rang of truth. “He phoned me for a visit to his motel. I argued the point, but eventually agreed to see him. We fought. He’s dead.”
Concise. To the point. Enough of a confession without giving too much away.
The questions began, a volley between the agents and myself. Whatever they wanted to know, I answered. In less than an hour, they had enough to hold me, without bond for now.
The clothes they had me change into before taking me to a cell were khaki pants and a shirt, not the orange jumpsuit I expected. The cotton was scratchy and thin. I wondered if they recycled these things. Had someone worn it before me, and did they get out of this place because they’d served their time, or did they eventually die in these clothes?
I took off the shirt. The material made me itch, reminded me of when I had no choice but to wear other people’s clothes. I’d vowed it would never happen again, and yet here I was. The past on spin cycle. Rinse and repeat.
I sat on the thin mattress and almost immediately popped back up to my feet. A restless energy ran through me. I was helpless in here. Yet another thing I’d promised myself I’d never be again.
I paced as my mind took in the reality of what I was in for. Six strides. That’s all it was between the door and the opposite wall. Two strides. The distance between the wall and the bed. Before getting locked up, I’d resigned myself to a life behind bars as what I had to do. Staring it in the face wasn’t so simple. My survival instincts were kicking in and wouldn’t be quiet. I needed out. This wasn’t where I belonged. With Vivian. That was my place in life.
“Fuck!” I punched the gray concrete block wall. Pain radiated from my knuckles up my arm. I stripped off the pants until I was down to the federal issue briefs I was reduced to wearing. In my current mental state, sleep would never come, so I dropped to the floor into the pushup position. With controlled movements,
I lowered until I was a centimeter from the linoleum before straightening my arms. I did one hundred and jumped to my feet, counting in my head as I pounded out an equal amount of jumping jacks.
I repeated the routine until sweat poured down my body and my limbs felt like noodles. A thousand of each until I collapsed on the mattress, mentally and physically exhausted. This was it. No amount of fighting would get me out. If I did get out, the man who was truly my father would come here in my place. I couldn’t live with that. No matter what it cost me.
31
Vivian
Eight Years Earlier
Daniel and I fought the Christmas Eve shoppers at the market in Te Anau, bought enough food for a couple of days, and were headed down a dirt road to places unknown. He assured me he knew where he was going, so I hung on for the bumpy ride. When we arrived, it was totally worth it.
On the edge of a blue-green lake was a modern cabin, my mountain rising behind it. It was made mostly of glass; in such a spectacular setting, it would have been wasteful to obstruct views from the inside. I was beyond thrilled. The condo in Queenstown I had adored, but this…I was utterly smitten.
Daniel parked the car at the front door, and I jumped out, practically running to the entrance.
“You might need this,” Daniel said, dangling a keyring from his fingers as he caught up to me.
I inserted the key into the lock and threw open the rustic wooden door. On the far side of the large room was a Christmas tree, decorated with colored lights and ornaments. My eyes glassed over. A tree. In a cabin. By my mountain. My heart felt like it was going to burst.
“Daniel,” I whispered, glued to the twinkling colors. “Thank you.”
“Do you like it?” he asked, watching me intently.
“I love it.” I dragged him over to the tree. The scent of pine filled my nose as I examined the ornaments dangling from the branches. These weren’t just generic balls. There were some, but they all looked old. Some of them were homemade. I fingered a Styrofoam star with gold glitter on it. Next to it was a handprint with Christmas 1979 painted on it.
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