by Debra Lee
By the time he’d finished rinsing his voice was reduced to humming as he dried himself. His thoughts were filled with his dinner guest. He had the evening all planned out. First, he’d wine and dine her. Then, he’d scoop the lovely Jackie Bertoni up in his arms and carry her into the bedroom. They’d make wild passionate love until morning.
The scent of her was with him. The sound of her pleasurable moans as his lips kissed her naked body. He trembled when her fingers closed around him. When he wrapped the towel around his waist and knotted it at his right side, he saw the thoughts of her had his groin swollen.
He strutted into the outer room where Tony Muzzerelli sat on the sofa leafing through a magazine. After Marcus filled a glass with Scotch, Tony spoke. “Jackie Bertoni called. She said to tell you she has to cancel dinner.”
It took Marcus a few seconds to let it sink in. Then the anger moved in. “Did she say why?”
“Just that something came up she couldn’t get out of.”
Marcus emptied his glass and slammed it down on the bar. “What the hell kind of answer is that?”
“I’d be careful with that one, boss.”
Marcus refilled his glass and turned back to Tony. “And why is that?”
“I recognized her voice.”
“Well, why wouldn’t you? Hell man, you just heard it this afternoon.”
“I know. But it sounded different on the phone. It was the same voice of the woman who called here a while back.”
Marcus gave his brain a quick work over. He remembered his wife calling once or twice. But while Tony was present no other women had called. Then it hit him. He did have a call from another woman. The anonymous caller who’d tipped him off about Desmond. Holy Mother of Mary, Jackie…”
Chapter Three
The maitre de showed Jackie to the window table she’d reserved. Once seated, the man asked, “Can I bring you a cocktail, Miss Bertoni?”
“Not just yet, Franklin. I’ll wait for Mr. Michaels.”
“As you wish.” Franklin hesitated. “I would like to offer my deepest sympathy, Miss Bertoni.” Jackie’s brow wrinkled when she peered up at him. “Everyone here at Cresco’s will miss Mr. Sinclair. He was a good man.”
“Thank you, Franklin. He was a good man.”
He left her to her own thoughts of Desmond Sinclair.
While waiting for the notorious Andrew Michaels to arrive, Jackie glanced around at the familiar surroundings. Cresco’s was one of the most expensive restaurants on the west coast. The place catered to the rich and famous. Countless deals had been made here over the years between agents and producers. It was not unusual to see more than one big name celebrity dining at Cresco’s on any given night.
Jackie remembered the first time Desmond brought her was on her seventeenth birthday. Desmond knew she’d fallen in love with the place that night just like he had years before on his first visit. She wasn’t sure if it was the food prepared by award winning chefs or the clientele that patronized the restaurant, perhaps a combination of both. She and Desmond had dined there together at least once a week over the years. Mostly on Wednesdays, their housekeeper, Sara’s day off at home, unless she and Desmond ate sandwiches or omelets they made themselves, the extent of their cooking abilities.
Jackie blinked to wash away the tears. Franklin was right. Desmond was a good man most of the time. But when he drank, he became the devil. Up until that night just a few weeks ago, he had kept that side of himself a stranger to her. She should’ve known retiring to her room when he began one of his drinking binges would not keep her safe forever.
She thought about what she’d told Marcus, realizing it was the truth. She had loved Desmond. It was the monster within him she feared. Hated enough to do the despicable thing she’d done.
Andrew straightened his tie as he gave Franklin his name.
“Yes, Miss Bertoni has already arrived. If you would be so good as to follow me, I will show you to your table, Mr. Michaels.”
Jackie watched the tall man step in line behind Franklin as he strolled toward her. She knew very little about the personal life of the blond haired, blue eyed district attorney. The most important thing she needed to know, could the man be trusted when no other she’d ever known could be?
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long,” Andrew stated as he sat down across from her.
“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” Franklin said and left them.
“I’m glad you could make it, Mr. Michaels. I do want to apologize for the short notice. I hope it wasn’t an inconvenience.”
“Not at all.” He grinned. “As a matter of fact, I probably would’ve spent the evening reviewing cases I have pending.”
“And for dinner?”
He wrinkled his brow, puzzled. Then it dawned on him what she meant. “I probably would’ve ordered out for pizza or settled for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
Jackie smiled. “You too?”
Not wanting to appear a total moron because he didn’t understand the question, he just smiled and nodded.
“Even the worst cooks can whip up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
Andrew understood and chuckled.
“Would you care for cocktails before dinner?” the waiter asked as he placed a menu in front of Jackie, then Andrew.
“None for me, thank you,” Jackie answered.
“I’ll have a rum and coke.”
Jackie’s eyes lingered on Andrew longer than she wanted after the waiter left them. When he glanced up at her from the menu he pretended to be studying she spoke. “Mr. Michaels--”
“I prefer Andy.”
Jackie tried not to smile, but knew one appeared before she spoke. “You did say you needed to talk to me.”
“You’re right, I did.” He cleared the wall of resistance in his throat. “It has to do with Desmond Sinclair. I don’t believe his death was an accidental hit and run.”
Jackie sat taller. “Do you have proof of that?”
“Not yet. We did locate the car that hit him. It’d been reported stolen an hour before Mr. Sinclair was struck.”
“That hardly makes the accident suspicious. Besides, Desmond wasn’t the kind of man who made enemies. Anyone who knew him considered him a good man.”
How could he go through with this? How could he tell her Desmond Sinclair was among the scum of the earth?
“It’s my understanding, Miss Bertoni—”
“Jackie is fine.”
He grinned. “Jackie, am I correct in saying that you lived with Mr. Sinclair?”
“Sixteen years. But I think you should know our relationship was strictly platonic. I was more like his adopted daughter. Of course there were never any papers drawn up.” You babbling idiot, that inner voice scolded. Your relationship with Desmond is none of his business.
Then the informant the police department had in the studio was right. Or was he? Andrew questioned. If she wasn’t making it with the old man, why didn’t she date? Why the nickname, The Ice Lady when the woman sitting across from him had given him a warm feeling the second he sat down?
“Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d say considering the circumstances, you probably knew Desmond better than anyone.”
“Perhaps.”
“Your drink, sir.” The waiter placed the glass in front of Andrew, then looked to Jackie. “Are you ready to order?”
“I’ll have the usual, Angelo.”
“Yes, Miss Bertoni. And you, sir?”
Andrew quickly glanced at the menu. “The prime rib, medium rare.”
“And for appetizer, sir?”
Another look at the menu. “The Manhattan clam chowder.”
Jackie was unaware she’d been staring at the soft spoken man. She found herself growing more curious about him, than what he needed to discuss with her.
Once the waiter left them to their own devices, Andy cleared his throat out loud, hesitated, then spoke. “Jackie, did Mr. Sinclair mention he w
as under investigation?” There, he said it, in one quick exhausting breath.
“For what?” she questioned, silently patting herself on the back for such a fine performance of surprise.
“I really hate to be the one to tell you, but Desmond Sinclair…”
“Yes?”
“Desmond Sinclair… Do you know a Nico Armaud?”
No, she didn’t. But she’d read about him often in Desmond’s journal. “The name doesn’t sound familiar. Should it?”
Andy took a swallow of his drink. “I suppose not. Nico Armaud keeps a low profile. He’s been called eccentric. A bit of a recluse and the country’s leading crime boss.”
“Just what is it you are trying to tell me? I mean what does this Nico have to do with Desmond’s accident?”
“Desmond Sinclair was Nico Armaud’s brother.”
“Even if that were true--”
“It’s true, Jackie. Years ago when Desmond came out here from the east coast, he changed his name. But he never broke with his family.”
“So what are you saying?” she questioned, hoping he’d tell her something she didn’t already know.
He’d put his foot in his mouth. Now he’d have to tell her. Even if she chose not to believe him, she had to be warned. Then he’d offer protection whether she cooperated or not. “It’s complicated. But on the other hand, quite simple.” He read her look that said, cut the crap and get on with it. “Desmond ran the drug operations here on the west coast and abroad for his brother.”
Jackie laughed. “Tell me Andy, have you ever considered a career in writing?” The amusement left her. “No, I take that back. Your story line is too farfetched to be believable even as fiction.”
“Damn it, Jackie.” He realized he’d shouted the words when heads from around the room turned in his direction disapprovingly. “I’m sorry.” His apology came just above a whisper. “Sorry for shouting. But not about what you need to know.”
Jackie glanced down at her gold wristwatch Desmond bought her for Christmas. “You have two minutes, Mr. District Attorney.”
How dare she? I have better things to do with my time, Miss Jacqueline Bertoni than coax you to listen and believe. And help.
“A few weeks ago Desmond Sinclair was charged with drug trafficking. The evidence we had convinced him to cooperate with us in exchange for dropping a few of the charges that would’ve sent him away for life. He accepted.”
“I doubt that.” But she had read all about it in Desmond’s journal. The last entry he made.
“I believe Marcus DeMario, a kingpin drug trafficker from Italy, who has somehow managed to obtain citizenship in this country, had Desmond run down. Someone, perhaps even in the police department, tipped him off that Desmond was about to set him up.”
“Fascinating story,” Jackie commented with the same disturbing arrogance as before.
“Desmond was prepared to bring us some book, journal, something he claimed contained enough information to indict not only DeMario, but the untouchable Nico Armaud.”
“His own brother?”
“Yes. His own brother.” His tone remained steady, but he found it difficult to look into her eyes as he proceeded. “So if you know where this book is, well if you do, you need to turn it in.”
“If such a book did exist, what makes you think I’d turn it over to you? I’m sure this Nico or Marcus would be extremely grateful to get their hands on it.”
Andy glared at her. Is that what she was doing in Marcus Demario’s hotel suite? Had she offered him the tell-all book? If that were the case, Miss Bertoni was a bigger criminal than all of them. But as he stared into the blue of her eyes, he saw a woman with a warm heart. Damned if he knew why she was pretending to be so cold-hearted. On a number of occasions he’d become disturbed by someone’s arrogance, but Jackie had him outright frustrated.
“Maybe you should consider the lives these men and their drug operations have claimed.”
“And just maybe there is no book.” She stood. “It’s been interesting, but your time is up, Mr. District Attorney,” she concluded with and strutted off.
The instant Jackie stepped outside to stand beneath a star studded sky, she smiled with satisfaction. Andrew Michaels had proven he could be trusted to do the right thing. He wasn’t one of those members of this great country’s judicial system on the take like she had read about in Desmond’s journal. If she turned over the journal Desmond’s brother would finally be brought to justice. But could she do the same to Marcus?
The powerful book contained Desmond’s most private secrets. So private that he’d never let her see him writing in it. He never knew of all the times she’d looked down on him from the upstairs hallway. The countless times she saw him at his desk scribbling out the events of a trip away from home in his journal. After he finished, he locked the thick book safely away in his vault. Or so he had thought. Jackie would take it out to read whenever she was alone in the house.
She never wanted to believe the parts that tied Desmond to organized crime and countless life’s lost because of the flourishing drug trade he helped bring to this country. At least not until that night he entered her bedroom uninvited. From then on she believed it all. But she never expected when she placed the anonymous call to Marcus he would have Desmond killed in such a horrific manner. But then what other manner had she expected? She didn’t really know. It was over and she couldn’t change that fact. Desmond could no longer hurt her or anyone else.
Chapter Four
Jackie turned her car into the driveway at home and tightened her fingers on the steering wheel. Her headlights flashed against the man stepping out of the backseat of the limousine before she pulled up alongside him. She took several deep breaths to calm herself enough to let go of the wheel so she could turn off the ignition.
One more very deep breath and she managed the door before swinging her legs outside.
“What are you doing here, Marcus?” On the defensive made it easier to shut down her senses when he stood so close.
“I wanted to see you before I leave.”
Her heart sank. “Where are you going?”
“My home in Italy.” He stepped closer. His fingertips glided over her cheek. “Before I go, I need to know if I have a reason to return to LA. Do I, Jackie?”
She couldn’t breathe. The ground beneath her feet turned to quicksand. When his mouth closed over hers, the warmth of his breath revived her. Stop it Jackie, that annoying inner voice ordered. You’re no longer a naïve sixteen year old. Remember what happened the last time? Remember what he did to you, Jackie? Remember…
She pulled away from him. “It’s too late for us, Marcus,” she told him, gasping to steady her breathing. “Besides, you are a married man.”
“I’ll get a divorce.” Marcus was quick to tell her, but then he’d say whatever he thought she wanted to hear. He had no reason to give her up this second time fate had presented her to him.
“You would do that for me?”
His lips touched hers so lightly that Jackie felt cheated when he pulled back. “Only for you, love. I will ask Talia for a divorce as soon as I return home. Then I will be back.”
“You’re going to throw years of marriage away just like that?”
He steadied his eyes on hers. “Something Desmond forgot to tell you. Our marriage was arranged by our fathers. They’re both dead now.”
“You don’t love her?”
“I love you. Always have.”
This time when he kissed her he did not let up right away. His tongue kissed hers, tantalizing her to the point where she would’ve given herself to him on the spot. But the instant he pulled back and his lips glided down her throat, the blast of fresh air that hit her brought her to her senses.
“No more, Marcus,” she moaned as she pushed into his chest to stop him.
“What’s wrong?”
Jackie swallowed hard. “I can’t do this.”
“I don’t understand.”
&
nbsp; And he didn’t. He knew she had strong feelings for him even after all these years. Why else had she tipped him off Desmond Sinclair was about to betray him?
“You must talk to your wife first.”
“That’s your final decision?”
Unable to locate her voice, she nodded him a yes.
“Okay, we’ll wait.” He conceded without a visible show of his disappointment. He wanted her even more now that he knew she wasn’t willing, but managed to keep his hands to himself and his frustration hidden.
Jackie watched him disappear inside the limousine after promising he’d be back within the week and bring with him his wife’s consent to a divorce. She held her breath the entire time she watched the car back out of the driveway until it disappeared down the street.
She barely remembered going inside as she poured herself a shot of bourbon and carried it with her to the straight back chair. Desmond’s chair.
A swallow of the soothing drink helped ease the excitement and passion that had overpowered her. As she gradually came off the magical experience reality set in. Marcus showing up changed everything. Her decision to turn over the journal to the district attorney was impossible now. She’d been wrong to hold a grudge all these years. Marcus carried feelings for her over the years. Why else would he so willingly give up his wife? Jackie wasn’t being naïve like the last time. This time, Marcus would be the one making the sacrifice if he truly wanted her. Yes, she decided, waiting until he ended his marriage before giving herself to him was the only way to protect herself from the heartbreak of a second betrayal.
She sighed, smiling. How lucky she was. She had more money than she’d ever need. She was on the verge of getting a second chance with the only man that had completely laid claim to her heart. What about Papa and Desmond? A voice in her head questioned. But she refused to listen and continued on. She had her work. Her greatest love of all. For one brief second she felt guilty for being so happy.
Chapter Five
The next morning Jackie left the house without breakfast. Her stomach felt squeamish. She feared adding solids would only add to the nausea. The sick feeling had descended upon her the instant she stepped out of bed and ran the day’s agenda through her mind. The first appointment of the day was with Desmond’s attorney to review his will.