by Diana Duncan
Doors slamming. Heavy, measured footsteps. “Where is she? Where’s my little princess?”
“At the sitter’s. I want to talk to you about something I found today.” Rustling noises. “Where did this money come from, Thomas?”
“What are you doing with my money, bitch? It better all be there.”
Angry voices. Shouting. Slaps.
Mommy’s scream, then sobbing. “I told you, I won’t live this way.”
“Fine. Leave any time you want. But Francie is mine! I’ll raise her my way. She’ll inherit my empire.”
“Over my dead body!”
“If you insist. I’ve gotten away with murder before.”
Choking sounds. Glass breaking. “Go get your damn money, Thomas. It’s all you ever loved, anyway.”
A shaft of light in the darkness. The flowery scent of Mommy’s perfume. The taste of terror, like sour milk on her tongue. “Come on, baby girl. We have to hurry!”
Outside, in the cold, black night. Mommy’s hand clutching hers too tight. Her breathless panting. “Run, Francie!”
Ragged breaths tore at Zoe’s throat. She’d been three years old. Mom had told her about tossing the money out the window, had changed their names immediately afterward, but trauma had buried the memory. No wonder she’d over-identified with the scared little girls at the hostage site and felt sick.
She couldn’t stop trembling. Couldn’t look away from Tony DiMarco’s smug expression. “You knew my mother,” she whispered. “Knew my father.”
“I know him.”
She swallowed so hard it hurt. Her battered psyche rejected the implication. “His name was Thomas.”
“It was.”
From behind her, Aidan murmured, “Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. He’s messing with your head.”
DiMarco stepped toward her. “It’s past time you knew the truth, Francie.”
No! She refused to accept it. Her mother’s voice echoed inside her mind. Run, Francie! “No!” she screamed as pain shattered her. Clutching her bag, she bolted toward the woods. “Don’t say it!”
DiMarco caught her before she ran five yards. He turned her to face him. “Don’t be afraid, Francie.”
She was no longer afraid of DiMarco. She was terrified of the truth. “My name is Zoe!” she yelled. “I am Zoe Zagretti!”
“You can call yourself whatever you like, but it doesn’t change who you are.”
Gasping for air, screaming inside, she willed him not to continue. She did not want to hear this.
He touched her cheek with a rough hand, and she flinched away. “I sometimes used the name Thomas Delgado back then. You are my only child. My heir. I’ve been searching for you for years, but every time I got close, Rita took off again. After you finally settled in San Francisco, I arranged for your job in Riverside so we could meet. I was going to take you with me and retire to the Grand Caymans on one last, big score.” His heavy brow wrinkled in a black scowl. “Then that whelp Conall O’Rourke shot me and ruined all my careful plans.”
Tight pain coiled in her chest, crushing her heart. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.
The monster who had murdered Aidan’s father was her father.
DiMarco swept his arm around the clearing. “I have unlimited power. Millions. Acknowledge me as your father, swear your loyalty and you’ll never lack for anything. I’ll teach you to run my empire. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
Every movement an effort, she slowly turned her head and looked at Aidan. Emotions flashed across his face. Confusion. Anger. Horror. And finally, the worst of all…agony. The only thing she’d ever wanted was a future with Aidan. The man who was staring at her with disbelieving, haunted eyes.
The man who, after today, would hate her forever.
Tony DiMarco’s evil blood flowed in her veins. Her father’s legacy was pain and death.
Nothing could erase this truth. Every time Aidan looked at her, he would remember grief. Would know hatred. He would never be able to love her. Not now. A few fateful words had snatched away her life. Killed her hopes. Devastated her dreams. Nothing could make it all right.
She’d lived for the truth…never knowing the truth could hurt so much.
Overwhelmed by grief, she reeled. She couldn’t run. Couldn’t hide. Could never escape from it. With the hideous knowledge eating away inside her, she could never again make a fresh start. Her future was as dead as the young man Tony DiMarco had just murdered so cold-bloodedly.
Her life was over.
Unable to stand under the agony, she crumpled to her knees.
DiMarco bent over her. “I know, it’s mind-blowing, isn’t it? Get up, little girl. It’s time for lesson three.”
She knelt in the dirt and did not want to move. Did not want to think. Could not bear to feel.
Her hands curled into fists as she battled torment. How she felt wasn’t a priority right now. Her future was dead, but she could still save Aidan.
She struggled to her feet and picked up her bag. “All right. I am your daughter.” She clenched her teeth against a wave of nausea. “I belong to you. I’ll swear my loyalty. And you’ll give me everything I want.”
“Zoe!” Aidan’s hoarse cry pierced her heart. Anguish vibrated in his voice. The wrenching ache inside her was nothing compared to the bitter betrayal he must feel.
“Satisfaction.” A corrupt, triumphant grin bled across DiMarco’s square face. “The best man won, O’Rourke. Francie has always been sharp. I knew I’d win her over to my side. How does it feel to die knowing she will always belong to me?”
Aidan again called her name, but she couldn’t look at him. She could not bear to see the suffering haunting his eyes. Suffering she’d caused. Instead, she stared at DiMarco. “I want Aidan taken safely to the mainland.”
DiMarco shook his head. “Sorry, little girl. You can have anything but that.”
The denial wrenched inside her. “I thought you were all-powerful. The king of the empire. Two minutes as…” The words strangled her, but she forced herself to say them. She would do anything to save Aidan. “Two minutes as my father, and you’ve already let me down?”
“You have so much to learn.” He shook his head, his expression rueful. “Lesson three, Francie. Never leave an enemy at your back. If Brian had killed me after betraying me, he’d be alive today. When you’re covered in diamonds and dancing on my yacht, you won’t even remember what the cop looked like.”
DiMarco stalked toward Aidan, and she clutched his forearm to find unyielding steel beneath the fatigues. “Wait!” She had to either talk him out of killing Aidan, or buy time to formulate a plan. “Tell me why the O’Rourkes are your enemies.”
“Our enemies, little girl.” He turned, his face a stone mask of hatred. “Back in the day, Maureen was my woman, and I thought Brian was my friend. The three of us were inseparable. Then Brian stole Maureen from me. I got sent to hell, while he mustered out. He married her, and she gave him four sons who should have been mine.”
Aidan snarled. “In your warped dreams, psycho.”
“Shut your mouth, O’Rourke. Or I’ll inject the poison a few drops at a time. You’ll beg for death. Just like daddy.”
“Inventing fairy tales might make you feel like a real man, you sorry son of a bitch,” Aidan gritted. “But we both know Pop went down fighting.”
She shot a snide glance in Aidan’s direction. “Pipe down, cop. I’m talking to my father here.” Her torn heart wept. But she couldn’t help him if he ticked off DiMarco.
DiMarco chuckled. “I’m happy to see you’ve got so much of your old man in you. Too bad I didn’t find you sooner.”
She fought the urge to throw up. Focus. Lead him where you want him to go, just like Aidan did with Eric. “Is that why you killed Brian? Because he married Maureen instead of you?”
“I didn’t set out to kill him. I wanted him to know what it felt like to suffer. I waited years, until he had it good. Then I set him u
p to look like a dirty cop.” DiMarco shrugged. “If it had gone down as planned, I would have had the satisfaction of seeing him lose it all. The hero’s job. The devoted wife. The loyal sons. Everyone would have turned on him.”
How could a human being be so vicious? So depraved? “What went wrong?”
He scowled. “Do-Right O’Rourke was always by-the-book. I figured he’d take his lumps like a man. Surprised the hell outta me when he went against regs and ran an investigation on the sly. The pig-headed Mick just wouldn’t give up. I’d more than covered my tracks, but he got too friggin’ close.”
She had to make him say the words. “So you killed him.”
“Yeah, I took him out. Beat him to death. He died on his knees, sobbing like a baby.”
“Lying bastard,” Aidan choked.
The agonized whisper ripped Zoe’s heart out. If it pained her to relive his father’s death, it had to hurt Aidan a thousand times more. However, she’d just obtained what nobody else ever had. She’d wrangled an uncontestable murder confession from Tony DiMarco. And she wasn’t done. Zoe clamped down on her bleeding emotions. The only way to get through this was to tightly lock up her feelings. She’d have plenty of time to grieve later. Alone. “You’re good at what you do. And obviously smart. Is that why nobody ever found his body?”
DiMarco’s arrogantly arched brow made her want to wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze. “I hid it too damn well.”
She hesitated, afraid of pushing her luck. She was too deep into it now to matter, anyway. And she was determined to do this for Aidan. He needed to know in order to heal. “Where?”
He cocked his head, and the first hint of wariness flitted over his expression. “Why do you want to know, Francie?”
“If I’m going to run our empire some day, I need to learn from the best.” The lies came easier now. The ends justified the means.
“Yes, you do.” His obscene smile widened. “We’re merely a small community of poor fishermen, eking out a squalid living. Nobody bothers us. We have a graveyard here on the island for our dearly departed. Some of the burials aren’t…obvious.” He rested his hand on her shoulder, and she fought to keep from knocking it off. “And speaking of learning from the best, it’s time for lesson three. How to handle your enemies. Lesson four will come later, when we take out his brothers.”
I’ll kill you myself to stop that from happening. She sucked in a deep breath as eerie calm enveloped her. The moment of truth. She’d hand-deliver her gift-wrapped soul to the devil before she’d let DiMarco execute her cop. As they’d talked, she’d studied her surroundings and devised a plan. She surreptitiously unzipped her bag. Please let plan B work.
“All right.” Zoe squared her shoulders and wrapped herself in a cloak of fatalism. If Aidan died, he would die fighting, not bound and helpless. And she would die fighting beside him. She stepped away from DiMarco. “Just let me say goodbye.”
DiMarco scowled. “Why?”
“He’s never going to have me, now.” She forced her stiff lips into a gleeful smile. How did these ugly thoughts and cruel words spring so easily to mind? Perhaps some of her father’s coldness lurked inside her after all. “I want to rub it in.”
DiMarco rubbed his hands together. “That’s my daughter.”
The viper was proud of her. Shame would not allow her to meet Aidan’s eyes. Instead, Zoe kept her gaze on his wide chest. She slid her hand inside her bag as she wove through the silent men. Nine, counting DiMarco. Stinking odds. They might not win, but they would take some of the scumbags with them.
When she reached Aidan, she stared fixedly at his neck. “Guess it’s your loss, SWAT.”
His Adam’s apple jerked as he swallowed. “I know.” Sorrow weighted his soft murmur.
Stinging tears burned her eyes and clogged her throat. She’d forfeited any chance to be with him. Before her facade could crumble, she slid her arms around his waist. The last time she’d ever touch him.
One final hug would have to last a lifetime.
She wanted to linger, imprint his scent on her senses, memorize the feel of his smooth, hot skin. But she didn’t dare.
“Have a taste of what you’ll be missing.” She tossed her head and rubbed against him as she felt for the rope binding his hands at the small of his back. Using his body to conceal her true purpose, she flicked open the Swiss Army knife hidden in her fist. The sharp blade bit through the rope. She laid the knife in his palm, and his fingers closed around the handle. She planted a soft kiss on his lips. “On three,” she breathed, and then stepped back.
Chuckling, Tony strode to Aidan’s side. “With a few more lessons, you’ll be damn good at this, Francie.”
Anger burned away some of her grief. You think so? Well, she had a few lessons for dear old dad.
The tall, thin guy rushed out of the house where they’d held Kent and delivered a second syringe.
She strolled several yards to Aidan’s right and leaned against a trailered boat’s hull. She locked her knees to hide their trembling. “Lesson one wasn’t anything new. Many people believe money is power.”
“Money is power.” DiMarco nodded. “Don’t ever forget it.”
“Lesson two, command respect.” She set her bag down behind her. “I’m working on that one.”
He uncapped the syringe. “You’ll pick it up in no time.”
“I’m nothing if not a quick study.” She rested her hand on the boat’s stern. “I believe this will be the most interesting lesson of all. How to deal with your enemies.” Her fingers gripped the boat hook hanging over the side. “I’m ready for lesson number three.”
As the words left her mouth, Aidan lunged and slashed the knife across the tendons in DiMarco’s right arm.
DiMarco dropped the syringe. He staggered to the other side of the totem pole and bellowed, “You morons missed his knife! Get my daughter somewhere safe! And keep those weapons down! Anybody who hurts my little girl dies!”
Guns bristled in every hand, but with DiMarco so close to Aidan, his men couldn’t open fire. DiMarco fumbled at his belt with his left hand and yanked out his gun.
Zoe snatched up the boat hook. Four feet of wooden shaft with a lethal metal hook at the end. “Aidan, catch!” She tossed it to him.
Aidan dropped the knife and caught the boat hook in both hands. Whirling, he knocked the gun from DiMarco’s fist, then slammed the metal tip into the side of DiMarco’s head.
“What the—” Cursing and bloodied, DiMarco crashed to the dirt.
DiMarco was on the ground, and without him as a shield, his men could shoot Aidan. Zoe zigzagged through men intent on seizing her, and scrambled to Aidan’s side. She scooped up the knife and circled, blocking the armed assailants from a clear shot at him.
Several men rushed him. The boat hook spun in a graceful, deadly arc, just like the sword he’d used earlier in his Kata. Blows thudded into bodies. As his opponents scattered and fell, more stampeded forward.
Whirling in the center of the melee, Zoe concentrated on keeping her footing. She had to stay out of Aidan’s way while still providing him with cover and dodging DiMarco’s men.
A big blond Viking lunged at her. She lashed at him with the knife, but he grabbed her wrist and spun her into his body, capturing her against his rock-hard chest. She rammed her elbow into his solar plexus and did the instep stomp again, and he let go. She dropped to the ground. On all fours, she scurried between a forest of shifting pant legs, back to Aidan. Who knew three-inch heels were a better weapon than a knife?
Men sprawled in the dirt, some dazed, some unconscious. Aidan sidestepped an attacker and moved closer to DiMarco. DiMarco kicked the back of Aidan’s calf, and he dropped to one knee. DiMarco leapt on his back and bulldozed him to the ground. Swearing, they rolled. Fists brutalized flesh.
Two bad guys crouched, preparing to spring to DiMarco’s aid. Zoe snatched up a pistol from beside a guy who moaned and clutched his ribs. She pointed it at the five men left stand
ing. “Drop your guns!” Weapons thudded to the dirt, and she bared her teeth in victory. “Stay back!”
Fighting viciously, Aidan and DiMarco rolled toward the totem poles. Aidan gained the top position. DiMarco’s legs scissored and knocked Aidan aside.
Aidan came up with the syringe fisted in his hand. He lowered the needle toward DiMarco’s neck, and DiMarco froze.
Aidan snarled. “Satisfy this, you sadistic, murdering bastard!”
Zoe’s heart stopped, and everything stuttered into slow motion. She couldn’t move. Nobody deserved to die more than DiMarco. Nobody deserved the privilege of killing him more than Aidan. Yet she wanted to scream at him not to do it. Not for DiMarco’s sake. For Aidan’s. She opened her mouth to cry out. Only a dry croak emerged.
Aidan raised the syringe for the death blow. Zoe’s breath jammed in her lungs as the needle hovered a millimeter above DiMarco’s skin. Aidan stared down at DiMarco. His hand trembled.
A hundred taut, heavy seconds ticked past.
Aidan threw back his head and released a howl of rage. Teeth clenched, he stabbed the syringe downward.
Zoe went ice-cold. Her vision blurred. “No!” she screamed, a second too late. Aidan’s thumb depressed the plunger. Shaking and sick, a cold sweat broke over her skin.
She waited to watch DiMarco die.
Seconds passed. Nothing happened.
She blinked to clear the haze of pain and fear. Stared. Blinked again. Aidan had rammed the syringe into the dirt beside DiMarco’s shoulder.
Aidan’s laser glare burned into DiMarco. “I can’t kill you like this,” he growled. “It would make me feel too damn good.”
Tony turned his head and saw Zoe holding the gun. He must have heard her cry of protest, because his nauseating, superior smile flashed. “Help your father, Francie. You’ll be rich and powerful beyond your wildest dreams. Have everything you ever wanted. Take our enemy down.”
She stared into his black-as-midnight eyes. “Lesson number one. My name is Zoe, and I don’t give a flying fig about money or power.” She shifted her gaze to the men in front of her to make sure nobody moved, then back. “Lesson number two. The cop who just spared your life is ten times the man you are. He commands respect. You inspire fear and loathing.” Her lip curled in disgust. “Lesson number three. Make no mistake. You are my enemy. If you were on fire, I wouldn’t spit to help you.”