Dangerous Bedfellows

by Debra Lee

  The line started moving quickly and a large space spread between Jackie and the man in front of her.

  “Come on lady or the plane will leave without us.”

  The male voice came at her from behind. But she hadn’t made her decision yet. The one she thought she’d made hours earlier.

  “Lady…”

  The voice pounded inside her head a second time, prompting her to make a move. With a very deep breath she made the leap and boarded the plane.

  She made her way through the narrow aisle to her window seat.

  She fastened her seat belt and braced herself for take off. A long trip awaited her. But perhaps not long enough.

  Even after the jet rolled down the runway and began its climb, she was having mixed thoughts about what she was doing.

  She hadn’t thought about her childhood in Italy for years. She’d buried her parents and five brothers the day she boarded that ferry to Capri sixteen years ago. She’d been successful in keeping that part of her life dead until that haunting night just a few weeks ago.

  She should’ve known better. But as the years swept by, she’d left down her guard somewhere along the way and settled into the comfortable way of life Desmond Sinclair provided.

  Jackie didn’t see anything wrong with sharing a home with a man twice her age. Of course she was aware of how tongues wagged over the years about their relationship. But now when she thought about it, she realized her childhood had prepared her well for ignoring those who were jealous.

  The way she and Desmond chose to live, Jackie believed was their business. Besides, they weren’t harming anyone. They had led a quiet home life. There was rarely time for entertaining. And neither had succumbed to a steady diet of Hollywood partying. Time had not permitted that sort of thing.

  There were periods during Jackie’s climb to the top of her profession when she and Desmond worked closely together. Other times they worked on separate projects. At the end of the day they’d retire to the study and hash out the events of the day. A relationship Jackie had indeed settled into and became accustomed to. Why, Desmond? Why did you have to ruin it? If only you hadn’t drank so much that night. If only you hadn’t barged into my bedroom and raped me, bringing the buried past across an ocean to haunt me.

  Jackie stared out the window next to her. She could relate to the darkness of the night. Within her there was darkness. A scary place she needed to confront. Hopefully, facing her past would be the start of shedding light on that darkness.

  If she were making a movie of how she had gotten to this crossroad in her life, she’d start at the beginning with her last days spent in Naples, Italy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The spring she turned sixteen, Jackie felt more frustrated than she ever had before. There’d been more and more times when she felt uncomfortable if Mama’s eyes lingered on hers. Especially the mornings after Papa came to her bed during the night. Did Mama know?

  More and more Jackie escaped from her confusion in books about America.

  It was an unusually warm night and Jackie raised the windows before she crawled into bed. Sounds and smells of the outside began drifting in to her. The gentle breeze carried the stench of dead fish that was soon overpowered by the more refreshing scent of the salt water. The sound of fog horns rippled in from somewhere out at sea. She heard the laughter of a woman at a distance on the harbor.

  Her English book was spread out in front of her. According to her teacher she’d mastered the English language superbly. But she wasn’t taking any chances. She gave herself a refresher course daily.

  First came the soft tapping on her bedroom door. Then Mama entered.

  “Sorry to interrupt your studying,” the woman began, “but I promise to be quick.”

  Jackie immediately saw her blackened eye, but was unable to speak of it. She felt a sudden sense of pity for her mama. The woman she remembered who used to smile a lot. When Jackie was a small child Mama seemed perfectly content with her life. But as Jackie grew older she watched Mama’s smiles fade away and all at once she’d grown old looking.

  “You’re not interrupting, Mama.”

  Teresa Bertoni released the tense hold on her breath when Jackie smiled up at her. She managed an appreciative smile as she sat down on the foot of her daughter’s bed. “Jackie, by now you must know you are different than the other girls at school, yes?” Jackie’s eyes revealed sudden panic. “I mean you are more beautiful. And it is you all of the boys look at and ask out for dates.”

  “But I never accept, Mama.” Her voice stopped as quickly as it began. She didn’t want to continue by telling her how Papa had told her countless times she must ignore the whistles and compliments boys offered. Not a one of them is good enough for you, precious, he’d add in that hypnotizing tone. By now, Jackie sensed Papa said those things because he wanted her all to himself.

  There were tears in Teresa’s eyes as she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a fistful of lire. She held the money out to her daughter then dropped it on the bed. “This is for you.”

  “Mama! Where’d you get all this money?”

  “I have been saving for a long time. Your brothers are beginning to marry and leave the nest. It’s time you leave too, Jackie.”

  “Papa will never permit.”

  Her hands gripped Jackie’s wrists and squeezed. “Listen to me, Jackie. I watch you study. I listen to your teachers. And I learn that you are smart. You must use this and your beauty to outwit the men who will always try to control you.” She let go of her daughter’s wrists and looked away. “You must start a new life.” Her eyes were threatening when she once again steadied them on Jackie. “You must leave here. And you must forget Papa.”

  She knows. She has to. What other reason could make her so adamant about sending me away? Jackie wondered. Is she jealous? No, she is finally helping me escape from the bad things Papa and me do together.

  Jackie snatched the money from the bed. And with so many questions on the tip of her tongue she so desperately needed answered, she stopped herself. What if Mama doesn’t know? What if she is sending me away for some other reason?

  “Thank you, Mama. The money will be the beginning of making my dream come true.”

  “I know the dream, Jackie. We all dream at one time or another to go to America. But for you, I believe it will come true. You will find a way to get there.”

  “I will.”

  “Tomorrow you will leave for school like always. You will not be able to take any of your things with you. If you did, Papa would surely suspect.”

  “I understand.”

  “There are buses.”

  “I will go to Rome first. And from there I will somehow go to America.”

  In the morning, Jackie made it a point to conceal the shots of excitement blasting through her. She didn’t want to do anything that would arouse suspicion in Papa. If he knew what she planned, he would stop her. And then she might never again have the opportunity to go to America. She’d be trapped. And somehow she knew she’d eventually drown in the sea of her confused emotions. She had to get away now.

  The mental plotting of her journey had kept Jackie up most of the night. Her plan did not include a bus trip to Rome like she told Mama. It would only take a slap across the face from Papa and her mama would tell him where he could find his precious angel. Only Jackie wasn’t going to be on her way to Rome just yet.

  She put on her favorite white blouse and printed skirt that fell loosely to the area just above her knees. She slipped her feet into the navy blue flats that matched the blue background color in her skirt. One final look in the dresser top mirror and she was ready to set out on her new adventure. The shots of excitement firing through her overpowered the fear.

  She kissed Papa on the cheek and bid him goodbye like she did each school morning and started to leave the apartment. As she passed the doorway to the sitting room, the photograph of her and Papa displayed on the coffee table caught her eye. She couldn�
�t leave without it. She quickly glanced around to make sure she wasn’t being watched.

  Papa came out of his bedroom and tossed her a second goodbye smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

  The coast clear, she dashed into the room and fumbled with the frame until she freed the photograph. She spent a moment studying the little girl’s smile. A powerful sense of sadness washed over her.

  The bathroom door creaked open and Jackie rammed the picture in her skirt pocket. She sniffled back the tears as she left the room and stumbled down the stairs. Mama was already in the restaurant serving breakfast to customers when Jackie appeared in the doorway. She gave the woman a long hard look. And when their eyes met, they held long enough to exchange goodbyes.

  Once Jackie reached the center section of the harbor, she slipped inside one of the little novelty shops she rarely had a need to shop in. She purchased a floppy straw hat, a pair of dark sunglasses and a small pillow.

  When she left the shop she dashed around the side of the building and tucked her shoulder length blonde curls up under the hat. She pulled her blouse out of her skirt and stuffed the pillow in front so she looked pregnant. The dark sunglasses served the purpose of hiding the sea blue shade of her eyes she was always complimented on. She knew her disguise worked when she passed one of her brothers on his way to the restaurant and he showed no signs of recognizing her.

  As Jackie boarded the ferry headed for Capri, she took one victorious look back before turning around to face the beginning of her life.

  ***

  Jackie used the back of her hand to dry her tear soaked cheeks. She got a glimpse of a distant cloud in the dark sky outside the jet’s window. She sat back in her seat, too exhausted to continue down memory lane. Too afraid she wasn’t strong enough emotionally to relive what happened next.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marcus clutched the note from Jackie as he sat on the edge of the bed in his hotel suite. He picked up the pillow she’d laid on and brought it to his face. The scent of her filled his nostrils. His groin swelled with want for her just like the first time he laid eyes on her. He removed the pillow from his face and placed it back on the bed, then laid his head on the soft material and let his mind drift back in time to that memorable day in Italy.

  Thoughts of power, vast wealth and most of all, the opportunity to prove he was a man had Marcus parading like a proud peacock on the deck of the yacht presented to him by his father as a birthday gift the day before. He chuckled, thinking about his father’s abundant generosity. But mostly of the man’s perfected talent for manipulating people, a quality Marcus had always admired. But Joseph had to know his son knew the yacht was given as bait.

  Marcus’s lean frame measured over six foot. His jet black hair was professionally cut and styled to feather over the tips of his ears. His most striking feature was the coal black color of his eyes.

  Looking back on his childhood, Marcus realized it was profoundly unusual by comparison to other boys growing up in Rome. But then, his mother died giving birth to him and his father carried the full responsibility of raising the child.

  Joseph DeMario grew up trusting no one. And certainly no one enough to care for his only child during the long hours required each day while he built his business into an international organization.

  By the time Marcus reached twelve he realized he was always treated with kindness by everyone he came in contact with because of his father; a man respected and feared by most other business owners in Rome.

  It wasn’t until Marcus became sixteen that he came to know the extent of his father’s power. Men as far south as Sicily shared business interest with Joseph. From Sicily, his hand of power stretched far enough to be felt in America.

  Joseph claimed the import and export business as his profession. Only a few were privileged with the knowledge of the specific identity of the cargo Joseph transported. Marcus was one of the few.

  Now, the day after his son’s twenty-first birthday, Joseph was testing him. If he passed, Joseph would make him an equal partner in his business. Marcus felt confident he was up to the challenge. Determined to put the playboy days of his youth behind him and fulfill his duties as the sole heir to Joseph DeMario’s empire.

  The early morning sky was a soft blue shaded mountain that folded downward into the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean, one of nature’s breathtaking sights of beauty. But nature and her beauty was the farthest thought on Marcus’s mind this fine morning in early April.

  Today, he owned a luxury boat. If he passed the test, carried out the mission he’d been sent on, a fleet of ships could be his.

  A frightening thought occurred to him. He knew his father to be an honorable man who would share his fortune equally with him if he passed his test. But Marcus also understood failure meant the kind of disappointment he’d never fully recover from. It’d be impossible to deal with his father. A man who believed one is given but one opportunity at success. There are no second chances.

  Marcus would not fail himself or his father.

  “Roberto,” he called.

  A man his father’s age instantly came from the cabin below to stand before him. “Yes, Marcus.”

  “I’m going ashore now.”

  “Yes, sir,” the loyal employee acknowledged as he watched Marcus climb into the small boat and press the switch on the hydraulic lift, lowering the impressive speed boat into the sea. Within a matter of minutes the vessel sped toward Capri.

  Marcus had one week before his crucial meeting with the American filmmaker who had come to Capri once each year to do business with Joseph DeMario for nearly five years now. Marcus had accompanied his father on each of these occasions. But in the upcoming meeting, Marcus would be meeting him alone. He had the responsibility to get the best price possible for the purchase the filmmaker would make, a purchase that had a one week guarantee of satisfaction. Full payment would be made at the end of that week.

  One week of work. One week of waiting and Marcus would return to Rome an extremely wealthy man, he believed as he exited his boat at the dock. His insides bubbled with excitement as he made his way to the small square.

  At the outside café, he ordered a pot of coffee and an extra cup. It’d been his intention to be early. The few minutes of waiting would give him ample time to compose himself. He didn’t want any of his tension to show through when his cousin arrived.

  On his second pot of coffee, he caught sight of the tall man round the corner of the square. As Salvatore approached he appeared even taller than Marcus remembered. Salvatore DeMario was a few years older than Marcus. He’d grown up with the dream of becoming the heavyweight champion of the world in boxing. But after several defeats in the ring he faced the truth that his dream could never be realized. That’s when his uncle Joseph put him on the payroll.

  If Marcus elaborated on his cousin’s job description, he’d say, locate exceptionally beautiful and very young women. Make certain each one understood she was of the weaker sex, ready and willing to do whatever a man commands. A mindless servant who will do anything she is told. Of course, each will be paid well for her services and given a nice bonus if warranted.

  Marcus recalled the two occasions when one of the prostitutes had to be disciplined. A trip to the hospital proved satisfactory with the first one. But Salvatore got a little carried away with the second. Marcus remembered his father becoming furious with Salvatore and insisted he wanted no part in how he disposed of the body. He’d come to Joseph for help. When he wanted no part of the matter, Marcus watched his cousin pale, his entire demeanor tense with fright.

  Now, as Salvatore pulled out the chair across from him and dropped onto it, Marcus saw what he had witnessed before. Salvatore’s features paled. His right eyebrow twitched. His jaw muscles tightened into a narrow point to his chin. Something had put him on edge.

  “Sorry I’m late, Marco.”

  “No problem, Sally. Or is there?” Marcus tacked on as he filled a cup for his cousin.r />
  Salvatore’s eyes took a quick sweep of the area. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I’m being followed. Have been since yesterday. Polizia.”

  Not once did Marcus let his eyes wander from his cousin. “Impossible. Father sees to it they are paid well to leave us alone.”

  Salvatore’s eyebrow stopped twitching as his dark eyes fixed firmly on his cousin. “The Delio family is paying them more. One of my whores got it straight from the chief when they were in the sack the other night. The next night her ass was hauled into the station along with my other whores.”

  Marcus had known Lucas Delio all his life. The man had been a guest in his father’s home on numerous occasions over the years. Marcus was privy to the private conversations Lucas and his father would get into concerning business. Lucas headed a powerful crime family in Italy. Joseph had carried Lucas with him on that journey from the ghettos as boys to reign over the country as Godfathers to their families.

  Joseph never told Marcus the entire story of why he and Lucas divided up Italy. Each controlled their own territory without crossing over into the others.

  Marcus looked at his cousin and shook his head no. “The Delios have no reason to betray us.”

  “Greed. Power. You want more?” Salvatore raised his coffee cup to his lips and took a few sips. “They want more control than my uncle Joseph, your padre, wants to give. Understand?”

  Marcus felt his nerves entwine until the knots came close to cutting off his circulation. Not now. This could not happen now. Next week, next month, but not now. His future was at stake here. He refused to return to Rome without accomplishing what he had set out to do. “But you do have a few girls ready for me to see? Your finest?” The look in his cousin’s eyes was not giving Marcus the answer he wanted. “At least one?”

  “It is much too dangerous. Besides, Joseph would have me shot if I allowed you to get jailed.”

  Even with the knowledge that his impeccable reputation could be jeopardized, Marcus refused to call it quits. He thought about the high priced prostitutes he used to visit in Rome before he promised his father he’d stop seeing them until after his promised marriage to Talia Calvetti. It was too risky to jeopardize the arrangement he’d made with her father. Besides, Marcus could only think of one prostitute who came close to what the American had ask for, and the last he’d heard, she was about to give birth.