Dangerous Bedfellows

by Debra Lee

  Dangerous Bedfellows

  By

  Debra Lee

  Originally Published by SynergEbooks

  Copyright © Debra Lee

  All rights reserved.

  Kindle Edition-February 2011

  Dangerous Bedfellows is a work of fiction. All characters, events and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Also by Debra Lee

  Featuring Fay Cunningham

  Deadly Arrows

  A Dangerous Woman

  Other Novels

  Redemption

  Taken

  Visit the author online at

  http://www.debralee.net

  Chapter One

  Jackie’s gaze wandered from headstones to somber faces. But not to the casket that held the body of her only true friend Desmond Sinclair. She recognized the people standing around her. Except for…

  Now she knew she hadn’t worn the black net veil because it matched her black suit. She’d worn the veil to hide her eyes. She continued to stare at the man. The handsome stranger looked familiar even though she was positive she’d never met him. She searched her memory until it came to her. Andrew Michaels. His picture appeared in her Los Angeles newspaper a lot. The last time he’d posed on the courthouse steps, relief radiated from his eyes when he smiled for the cameras after achieving a guilty verdict on a high profile murder case.

  How dare he show up here? Thanks to her Desmond couldn’t harm anyone anymore. A cold chill rolled through her. Perhaps the district attorney had come for her. Undecided if she should bolt or approach the man, Jackie was suddenly frozen in a time past when Marcus DeMario stepped into view.

  The sight of him took her breath away just like the first time she saw him all those years ago. He stepped away from the limousine and weaved around headstones in her direction. As he neared, she saw his features had changed little. What had changed was the hardness in his composure, a coldness that sent another chill through her.

  With her chin tucked into her chest, she watched him step up to the casket to pay last respects. Once or twice his steely eyes glanced her way. He showed no signs of recognizing her.

  Of course he wouldn’t recognize you, she reminded herself. You were a disposable piece of property to the man.

  But Marcus did recognize her. Not the first time he glanced in her direction. The second time his gaze traveled up her black nylons he knew of only one pair of legs so perfect. But what was Jackie Bertoni doing at Desmond Sinclair’s funeral? What was she doing in America?

  He’d buried thoughts about the woman years ago. No point dwelling on what might’ve been.

  The crowd of mourners began departing. Jackie watched them go. The district attorney lagged behind them like he was waiting for someone. Jackie breathed easier when he ducked inside a blue sedan and drove away. But an immense amount of heat fired through her when she met Marcus’s mesmerizing gaze.

  His stare made her pulse race. A faint smile played around his mouth. Then he spoke.

  “It’s been a long time, Jackie. How are you?” He waited for her to say something. Anything to give him a clue she recognized him. But there was nothing but the unreadable stare through the veil. “You’re looking good.” Again he waited. Nothing. “Don’t you remember me?”

  How could she forget the person responsible for severing her heart so badly that it had never fully mended?

  “I remember, Marcus. I’m surprised you remember me.”

  “I always wondered what became of you.” He started taking short steps around the casket toward her as he spoke. “I looked for you, Jackie. It was as if you vanished from all of Italy.”

  He stood so close that the intoxicating scent of his cologne made her head spin. She felt a vaguely familiar fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. How could this be after all these years? And even with the knowledge of how the man had used her, the sight of him was bringing every one of her senses life again. Even the smooth huskiness of his voice made her tremble with pleasure.

  Fight it. The man isn’t worthy enough to breathe the same air as you, an inner voice reminded. Jackie listened. But trying to control her senses when they were sending so much pleasure was difficult. If not impossible.

  “Desmond brought me to America the year we met. I’ve never returned to Italy.”

  Marcus took a moment to turn back the clock. So much had happened that spring. The war with the Delio family. His father’s murder. Marcus’s first kill. Then he had a multi-million dollar empire to run. But among the confusion and changes, he remembered the night Roberto mentioned Desmond Sinclair had called in need of a passport.

  “Desmond never told me.” But then there were a lot of things Desmond Sinclair saw fit not to tell me, Marcus kept to himself.

  “I ask him not to.”

  Marcus glanced away from her cold stare then refocused on her sea blue eyes. “Will you join me for lunch, Jackie?”

  A no screamed within. No to feeling so wonderfully alive when she should be outraged. “I suppose I do have to eat.”

  She took a moment to be alone with Desmond before joining Marcus in the limousine.

  “So, where shall I have Tony drive us?” Marcus put to her as the car pulled away from the cemetery.

  Jackie shrugged. “You choose.”

  “My hotel suite okay?”

  Fear gripped her insides. She knew better than to trust Marcus. But could she trust herself alone with him in his hotel suite? A public place would be much safer, a much easier place to fight off the passion mounting within her. But she nodded him a yes anyway, then managed to look away from the pair of eyes that were capable of hypnotizing her.

  When she peered through the tinted window, she spotted the blue sedan parked at the end of the street. The car was there again when she stepped out of the limousine at the hotel.

  Be careful. You mustn’t let your guard down for a second, the voice within returned to caution as Jackie moved ahead of Marcus into the luxurious suite. Too late. She let her guard down the second she agreed to have lunch with the man.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll just be a minute,” Marcus told her as he reached for the phone. It took him less than a minute to call downstairs to have the lunch sent up he’d ordered from his cell phone in the car.

  When he fumbled with the receiver, putting it back on the hook, Jackie sensed he felt equally awkward. Precisely what gave her the courage to speak with more ease. “Tell me, Marcus, did you travel all this way just to attend Desmond’s funeral?”

  Tempted to lie, Marcus decided it would be too dangerous. He had no idea how much she knew about his relationship with Desmond Sinclair. Until he did, he needed to be extremely careful about what he said. “Actually, no. I was here on business when I got word about my good friend, Desmond.”

  The knock on the door saved him from going into more detail. He let in the waiter and stood near the door while the man pushed the food cart to the small corner table and set two places. Marcus handed him a few folded bills as he passed back through the doorway. Then he focused on Jackie standing with her back to him near the table. He swallowed hard before taking that first step in her direction.

  She glanced up at him and smiled when he pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit. Then he took the seat across from her.

  He focused on the napkin he unfolded on his lap when he spoke. “This sort of reminds me,” he slowly raised his head and gazed into her eyes, “of another meal we shared.”

  Jackie saw them at the table that night, too. It was after the shopping spree on Capri. They’d returned to the yacht anchored off shore to find Roberto
had a three course meal waiting for them in the lower cabin. Jackie could almost taste the shrimp salad. Then the aroma of spaghetti sauce filled the air. When she blinked and glanced down at the table, she saw she wasn’t imagining the smell. The three course meal awaited them on the table. Her one hand fidgeted with her napkin, while she placed her other one on the table. “You have a very good memory.”

  Marcus reached across the table for her hand. “I was hoping we might start again.”

  Jackie jerked away from him. From the touch that sent small volts of electricity through her. “How can you say that? We aren’t the same people we were sixteen years ago. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know I loved you once. I’d like to fall in love all over again.”

  A painful blast of heat fired through her. “Then what? Do you divorce your wife and marry me?”

  “I admit I don’t know anything about your life. But you seem to know mine.”

  His statement eased Jackie’s anger enough for her to relax in her seat. “You married Talia Calvetti fifteen years ago. Ten years ago you were blessed with a son, Joseph, named after your father. Five years later, your daughter, Maria was born. You are one of the most successful businessmen in all of Italy.” She could’ve added that she knew all about the political leaders on his payroll and how with the help of Desmond he was shipping heroin into this country from his ties in Afghanistan. But she skipped that part. “A few years ago you began branching out, buying up real estate around the world. How am I doing so far?”

  “Please continue.”

  “Last year you purchased a few properties here in LA. Properties condemned by the city. I believe the buildings were torn down and new construction is underway.”

  “Correct. A housing project for the elderly.”

  “A commendable thing to do for people in a foreign country.”

  “We all feel better when we can do a good deed for others.” Is what he told her, but the truth was the buildings would make him a fortune and legitimize him as a businessman in this country.

  “It’s good to know you have a heart.”

  Marcus accepted her bit of sarcasm and chuckled. Then his jaw line narrowed.

  “Am I correct to presume Desmond is the one who kept you up-to-date on my life?”

  “He gave me a full report each year when he returned from his annual vacation to Italy.” What he forgot to mention she’d read in the journal he kept locked away in the vault in his study.

  “How considerate of him,” Marcus commented with growing annoyance. “So just how was it between you two?”

  “What do you mean?” Jackie asked, knowing perfectly well what he was fishing for. But she thought it might be nice to watch him sweat a little.

  He cleared his throat out loud. “Were you lovers?”

  Jackie trembled when that night just a few short weeks ago flashed in her head. Desmond had come home in an angry uproar. She watched him carry a full bottle of bourbon to his favorite chair in the study. She thought it best to wait until morning to confront him about what had upset him and went up to bed.

  The wetness roused her from a deep sleep. Then the alcohol odor cut off her breath. The pressure of him hovering atop her was suffocating. She tried fighting him off her. But she was no match for those powerful arms even though she could see he was drunk out of his mind. Her only alternative was to close her eyes and let it happen. Only when she tried to block it and escape to America did she remember that she was already in the land of the free.

  She found a handwritten note from Desmond on the nightstand in the morning. She told him she accepted his apology, but it was impossible for things to remain the same between them. How to answer Marcus was easy though. “That really is none of your business, Marcus DeMario. But if you must know, the answer is no. We were not lovers.” She took a moment to sort through her feelings. “But we did love each other.” Her ‘once upon a time’ she kept to herself.

  “Desmond was a good man,” Marcus told her. Desmond Sinclair is a traitor, he kept to himself. “I will miss him.” As he said the words, Marcus realized they were true. He’d become fond of the man over the years. He even had occasion to look upon him as a father figure. What a fool he’d been. Now that the man was dead, his only regret was in not knowing why Desmond Sinclair had betrayed him. Could Jackie Bertoni have the answer?

  Chapter Two

  Andrew Michaels sat alone at a corner table in the hotel lounge. He finished his tuna salad sandwich and ordered a second coke. He chose the corner table among the several vacant ones because it gave him a clear view of the lobby elevator. When the waiter brought his drink, he paid the check in case he had to leave in a hurry.

  He noticed the light above the elevator doors blinking again. As the light began dropping in numbers, he felt the tuna churning around in the pit of his stomach. The sudden attack on his digestive system eased when the light stopped on number six.

  He chuckled to himself, amused by the way he was acting. After all, he’d never been introduced to the woman he was waiting to see step off the elevator. The first time he saw Jackie Bertoni was at the graveyard. But that’s all it took to waken long forgotten feelings inside him. Feelings he’d only known once before in his forty years when he first saw Ellen Thomas, the woman he married all those years ago. He was struggling through law school. He still didn’t understand how it had all ended. He surmised the pressures of his job had played a hand in their separation, and a divorce six months later nearly a decade ago.

  The elevator light was moving again. When the doors slid apart, Jackie stepped off. Andrew sucked in his breath. Once he exhaled and regained his bearings, he bolted from his seat and darted into the lobby.

  He temporarily lost sight of her when she went through the revolving door. He was about to lose her completely when he spotted her ducking inside the limousine parked at the curb. “Miss Bertoni…” Jackie took a step backward before looking over her shoulder. “Could I talk to you, Miss Bertoni?”

  “What is it, Mr. Michaels?”

  Andrew smiled. “You know who I am. I’m honored.”

  Jackie’s expression remained sober. “What do you want to talk to me about, Mr. Michaels?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew saw Tony Muzzerelli sitting behind the wheel inside the limousine, his ear peeled toward the two of them.

  “Could you step over here?” Andrew asked and led her away from the car.

  “Does this have something to do with Desmond’s accident?”

  “Yes. But I’m not sure it was an accident.”

  Jackie swallowed hard. “I know the driver of the car that hit Desmond never stopped. But there were witnesses who said Desmond stepped into the crosswalk when the light was flashing not to walk.”

  Andrew glanced over her shoulder to the limousine. “Could we meet somewhere later? Perhaps we could have dinner?”

  “I already have dinner plans, Mr. Michaels. Just tell me what this is all about.”

  Another quick look at the limo driver. “Not here.”

  Jackie glanced at her watch. “I’m already late for an appointment. Can this wait until tomorrow?”

  Andrew wanted to tell her no because he feared she too might be in danger. Anyone who dared share the company of Marcus DeMario put their life in jeopardy. But he was late himself. Due in court five minutes ago.

  “Are you free for breakfast?”

  “I can meet you at seven. Is the cafeteria at Sinclair Productions okay?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Jackie had Marcus’s driver drop her at the studio. She felt a twinge of guilt returning to work just hours after burying Desmond. But work was the only thing holding her together. She was in the middle of dictating a letter to Peggy when her train of thought became invaded by other thoughts. Why had she agreed to have dinner with Marcus? Why was she letting herself be set up for more heartbreak? She didn’t have the answer to either. She should be having dinner with Andrew Michaels ins
tead. And what about the clever district attorney’s suggestion Desmond being run down on the main street of Los Angeles might not have been an accident? Yes, she should take him up on his dinner invitation.

  “Jackie… Jackie…”

  Her secretary’s voice finally reached her. “I’m sorry, Peggy. Could we do this later?”

  “Sure. Why don’t you call it a day, um?”

  “I think I will. Could you give Charles a call to pick me up?”

  “He’s waiting outside.” The petite woman shrugged her slender shoulders. “I guess he thought you’d knock off early.”

  ***

  Andrew left the courtroom frustrated. More cases like the one he just finished prosecuting and he might be tempted to resign. It was a cut and dry case. Or so he’d thought once the testimony and evidence was presented to the jury. The bastard should’ve been sentenced to death. But when the jury handed down an acquittal, the killer got to walk on a damn technicality.

  “Where’s the dead rape victim’s justice?” he grumbled as he left the courthouse and crossed the street to his office building.

  His secretary had left a pile of messages on his desk. They can wait until tomorrow, he decided as he flipped through the small pieces of paper until he spotted the one from Jackie. He read the words carefully.

  Jackie Bertoni called to let you know her dinner engagement has been cancelled. She can meet you at Cresco’s at eight.

  Andrew’s tense jaw slid into a relaxed smile. He glanced at his wristwatch. If he hurried, he’d have enough time to stop off at his apartment to shower and change before meeting her.

  ***

  Marcus was in the shower singing a song in Italian. One he made up as he soaped his body. The faint ringing of the telephone barely made it over his baritone lung power. But it finally reached him.

  “Hey Tony, will you get that,” Marcus hollered and went back to singing and soaping.