One Way Out (Silhouette Intimate Moments No. 1211) (Silhouette Intimate Moments, 1211)

by Wendy Rosnau

  “I like him.”

  “You like who?”

  “My son.”

  Sophia rolled her eyes. “Oh, please… You’re joking, of course. How can you like something that makes that much noise?”

  Joey grinned. “He’s two and a half, Sophia. Making noise is how he communicates when he’s not happy.”

  “Then, if I scream and cry, will I get my way, too?”

  “No.”

  “What are you telling me, Joey?”

  “That you should start shopping somewhere else for a husband.”

  Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t just about your son, is it. You haven’t had your fill of his mother yet, have you.”

  Silence.

  “I’ve done my homework, Joey. Her name is Rhea Williams and she’s so far beneath you it isn’t even funny. Her own mother didn’t want her, and her father went crazy, then killed himself.”

  Sophia wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. After Rhea had disappeared, he had dug up everything he could find on her in hopes that it would help him locate her. He had an entire file on the mother of his child. He knew where Rhea was born, how much she weighed at birth, and what had happened to her after her mother abandoned her. He also knew her father had become an alcoholic shortly after that, and a few years later had stepped off the curb into the path of a city bus.

  “There are men who enjoy rutting with low-stationed women—women who will forever be beneath them. They do, however, lack a certain amount of brains and social skills, Joey. You need an asset at your side, not an underfed orphan with sad eyes and bad manners.”

  Joey glanced around his lavish office. “As you can see, Sophia, I’m not looking for more assets.”

  “She’s that good, is she? You know I can be whatever you want. I’m sure I can be disgusting in bed if that’s what you like. All you have to do is tell me what you want.”

  What he wanted was Sophia gone and out of his life. For good this time. His gaze swept her full breasts—breasts he knew for a fact were flawless and as plump and ripe as melons. But they held no appeal. All he could think about … picture in his mind … was Rhea holding his son as he nursed at her delicate breasts.

  Suddenly he stood. “I’ve got to get to a meeting. I’m glad we could clear this up so quickly.”

  “But we haven’t cleared anything up, Joey. Aren’t you forgetting about the deal?”

  “What deal is that, Sophia?”

  “The one your father made with Carlo Talupa years ago. The one that involved my father.”

  “I have no idea what you’re taking about.”

  “Of course you… Oh my, you really don’t know, do you? Is that why…” She covered her mouth and started to laugh. “Your father never told you.”

  “Told me what?”

  She stood. “Poor Joey.”

  “Sophia, spit it out.”

  She shook her head, suddenly smug. “No. I don’t think I will. Ask your father, Joey.”

  “I’m asking you, Sophia.”

  She continued to laugh, then started for the door. “We’ll never be over, sweetheart. Never. My advice is to get that skinny tramp and that noisy brat of yours gone, before it’s too late.” She turned and this time the laughter was gone. “Then again, don’t bother. It’s already too late for them.”

  * * *

  “How is Grace doing?”

  “She’s better. The doctor tells me that the stroke wasn’t as severe as the last one.”

  Relieved, Rhea showed Frank Masado into the living room of Joey’s penthouse.

  “How’s my grandson?”

  Before Rhea could answer, Nicci said, “Otay, Papa.”

  Rhea had never questioned why Nicci was drawn to his tough-looking grandfather. Like his sons, Frank Masado was tall and dark and showed a world of experience in the age lines on his face.

  Rhea had to admit that the black eye patch Frank wore added to his overall tough-guy look, but she’d seen the gentle side of this man with Grace and Elena, had watched him on the beach with his grandson. She had heard him laugh, a rich heavy rumble that had made her stop and stare.

  “Elena told me Joey stole Niccolo right out from under the noses of my guards.”

  Frank’s raised voice made Nicci cringe, and when Frank realized that he’d frightened his grandson, he softened his voice and reached for Nicci. “Come to your papa, Niccolo. Let me see how big you’ve gotten since last I saw you.”

  Rhea handed over her son.

  “Daddy’s room dat way, Papa.” Nicci pointed toward the hall.

  Since he had wandered into Joey’s room and found his parents kissing, Nicci couldn’t stop talking about his daddy’s room, or the “round bed in the sky.” He’d been complaining that he was hungry—until he spied the bed on the platform and the wall-size TV. Since then, he’d been trying to convince Rhea that he should take his afternoon nap on Daddy’s bed.

  “I’m on my way to see Joey,” Frank said, “but I wanted to check on you and see how you’re holding up.”

  “I’m fine. We both are.”

  Joey’s father looked exhausted. His concern for Grace was partly responsible, but Rhea knew that Joey’s actions had only added to his father’s worry.

  “I should have told him years ago, you know. I suppose he’s blazing mad. Joey in a mood is ten times worse than Lucky backed in a corner.”

  “Yesterday he was furious,” Rhea agreed. “Today, he’s … a little less unreasonable.”

  “Did he tell you how he learned you and Niccolo were at Santa Palazzo?”

  “No.”

  “Did you mention Grace or Elena?”

  “Of course not. If Joey knows about them, he learned it from someone else, not me. I know how important it is to keep them a secret.”

  “Until I can get you back on a flight to Florida, don’t speak to anyone. And stay inside.”

  Niccolo squirmed to be put down, and when Frank set him on the floor, he ran for the hall. “I go ta jus yook, Mama. I no touch nuffin. I pomis.”

  “He loves it here,” Rhea said. “I thought he would hate it, but in one day, he acts like it’s always been his home.”

  “Rhea, don’t do that. You can’t stay. This can never be home for either of you. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you and Joey will ever be able to raise Niccolo together. For that to happen, Carlo Talupa’s world would have to come crashing down around him. And he’s too powerful for that ever to happen.”

  “I don’t think Joey’s going to agree to give up his son.”

  “He will, once I tell him why he must. I should have told him the truth years ago. My pride wouldn’t allow it, and now the past is back, threatening all of our lives. I’m sorry about that, Rhea. Sorry you’ve been caught in the middle since day one.”

  “He never married Sophia, Frank. You should have told me.”

  “I thought it would be easier for you if you thought he had moved on. Sophia is his future, whether he wants her to be or not. He must realize that.”

  Resigned, Rhea said, “I know why we should go back, Frank. That doesn’t make this any easier. Not now, not after Joey knows he has a son. You should see them together. They—” She stopped herself. “I’ll go back, Frank. I will, but only with Joey’s blessing. This time I won’t run. I can’t.”

  “Joey’s a lucky man, Rhea. He can never know how lucky. But your loyalty to my son makes this just that much harder.”

  “It’s more than loyalty, Frank.”

  “I know you love him. And it’s true we can’t choose who we love. Just ask me. I’m an expert on forbidden love.”

  “I’m not sorry,” she said softly. “I’m not sorry that I love Joey. I’ve never been sorry.”

  Rhea turned away to hide her damp eyes. Seconds later, the memory of Joey’s morning kiss came back to her on a wave of emotion. The kiss had been full of passion. So open and so honest that it had left her not only breathless and shaken, but with a promise that maybe
someday he would be able to forgive her for keeping Nicci from him.

  In one day’s time, if he could go from hate to mercy, what might happen if they had more time together?

  “Joey told me that Stud is in jail.”

  “I intended to tell you.”

  Rhea heard Frank come up behind her. She turned in time to see him digging in his pants pocket. “Here.” He handed her a gun. A small .22. “Take this and hide it. Somewhere that you can get to it quickly if you have to. It’s loaded. And you know how to use it. It’s the one you practiced with, so it’s not a stranger to you.”

  Rhea took the .22. Frank had insisted that she learn how to shoot a gun. How to defend herself. She had never been afraid of guns. Her ex-husband was a cop. Guns had been a part of his life.

  Frank touched her cheek. “Keep alert, figlia. Until I can get you back to Santa Palazzo, trust no one. And remember, don’t mention Grace to anyone. Or Elena. No one can know that Grace is alive, or that she and I have a daughter.”

  * * *

  “You’re an idiot, Joey.”

  Joey looked up from his desk to see his father charging into his office, and without hesitation he said, “And you’re a lying son of a bitch, Frank.”

  “You should have come to me the minute you found out I had her. What were you thinking? No! Forget that. You weren’t thinking at all! You could have gotten yourself and your brother killed breaking into Santa Palazzo like thieves. My men are instructed to shoot first and ask questions later. Dammit, Joey, I taught you better than that!”

  “What you taught me, Frank, was to hold onto what is mine. Or, in this case, take it back.” Joey was determined not to lose his head. He had gone over how he would handle his father, but Sophia’s visit had tossed him a curve. And an hour ago, he’d gotten his eyes opened farther. At the moment, his emotions were racing in two different directions.

  He came to his feet, moved away from the desk. “I wouldn’t have been forced to act like a thief once I arrived at Santa Palazzo if my name had been on the list at the front gate. After all, I am your figlio. Oh, that’s right, I forgot. I’m Frank Masado’s son, and he doesn’t live there, does he … Frank Palazzo?”

  “So you know the estate is mine, and that when I’m there I go by an alias.” Frank reached into his pocket, pulled out a fat cigar and stuck it between his full lips. After firing it up and blowing several rings of smoke, he poked his finger and the cigar at his son. “What else? I want to know everything you’ve got on me.”

  “Information costs, Frank.”

  “Maledizione! Listen you mouthy son of a—”

  The second Frank started across the room, Joey peeled off his suit coat and tossed it. “Bring it on, old man. I’m damn anxious to send you to the floor.”

  Frank hauled himself up short. “Knocking me on my ass isn’t going to fix this.”

  “But it will make me feel better.” The only thing Joey wanted to do at that moment was to stuff his fist down his father’s throat. “What’s the matter, Frank, no guts?”

  “I got plenty of guts, boy. What I don’t have is a death wish. I know you can be as hard-driving as your brother. The only difference is, it just takes a little more to set you off. But when you’re backing a cause there isn’t anyone tougher in this whole damn city.”

  “I’ve been looking for Rhea for three years, you bastard. Three long years! And you’ve had her the entire time.”

  “I had my reasons. Damn good reasons. And I’m here to explain them, if you’re willing to listen.”

  “You kept me from my son. What kind of father are you, Frank?”

  “The kind who would do whatever needed to be done to keep you alive and protect my grandson.”

  The room fell silent. Scowling, Joey motioned to the row of empty chairs. “Okay, Frank. Let’s hear it.”

  His father came forward, reached for the ashtray on the desk, then chose the farthest chair in the row and sat down. “One of my men tailed you that night. The night you and Lucky took Rhea home from the hospital. The first night.”

  Joey returned to his chair. “We haven’t needed tails since we were boys, Frank.”

  His father shrugged. “I never ran steady tails on you and your brother. They weren’t twenty-four hour, but they were expected to call me once a day and tell me where you were and what you were doing. That’s how I knew from the beginning that you were interested in Rhea Williams. It was a surprise, I’ll admit that. She was Stud Williams’s wife and he was working for us. I thought that was a bit reckless on your part, but—”

  “Ex-wife,” Joey corrected.

  Frank puffed on his cigar. “Yes, she was his ex, but Stud didn’t see it that way. He wanted her back in his house. Divorced or not, he always saw her as his.”

  Joey’s jaw jerked. “That might be the way Stud saw it. I saw it different.”

  “Rhea’s a beautiful woman. But three years ago no one could have convinced me of that. You know that better than anyone. She was going through hell, and she looked like it.”

  Joey leaned forward, rested his elbows on his desk. “Old news, Frank. Move on.”

  “I had no intention of interfering. I really believed you’d have your fun with Rhea, and then settle into a life with Sophia by the end of the year, like we planned. But then you broke off your engagement, and the next thing I knew I got a call from one of my watchdogs telling me Rhea was pregnant. Of course, there was a possibility that the baby wasn’t yours—that it could have been Stud Williams’s child. I was hopeful, but I had to be certain. I went to see Rhea. She was wary of me but she stood her ground. Strong women are rare, and I liked her right from the start. I understood then why she appealed to you.”

  Joey sat back and rubbed his jaw as he listened.

  “She confirmed my fears. She said, yes, she was pregnant. And when I asked her if you were the father, she didn’t admit it right away. But I knew the minute I mentioned your name that it was your baby. And when she touched her belly and raised her chin… She was already protective of the baby, and me showing up asking questions must have been unsettling for her. When she finally admitted it, I knew what I had to do.”

  Frank unbuttoned his suit jacket and spread it wide to reveal his 9-mm tucked into a leather shoulder holster. “The real pisser is, I thought I taught you better than that, Joey. I thought I was clear on the rules of the game. And one of those rules is, you can take whatever you want as long as you don’t leave behind incriminating evidence. A baby is damn incriminating evidence.”

  “Is there a point to this segment of your story, Frank?”

  “There is. Rule two, if you don’t want someone going behind you and mopping up your mess, don’t leave one. And there’s nothing wrong with paying for sex. Top dollar, if need be. Hell, I say have it delivered. Just keep it uncomplicated. And the most important of all is, don’t help yourself to another man’s property because it always goes sour in the end.”

  “I guess you ought to know something about that,” Joey taunted. “At least I didn’t steal my best friend’s wife, then turn my back on her when things turned … sour.”

  Frank lunged forward. But before he could get close enough to put his hands on his son, Joey pulled an open knife from the top drawer of his desk and pointed it at his father.

  “Sit down, Frank.”

  His father eased back onto the chair. “Okay, you’re right. I wanted Grace Tandi and I took her. And I paid for it. It was a hard lesson. A lesson I thought I had passed on.”

  “Don’t you mean, Grace paid?”

  Frank swore, then left the chair and headed to the bar. He splashed scotch into a glass and quickly drained it. Glaring at Joey from across the bar, he said, “You’re right. Grace paid. I ignored the rules, and she got caught in the middle. I lost my best friend, and he lost his wife.”

  Frank poured himself another drink. “Your mother was dead and I was alone, Joey. I took care of business, raised my sons the best I knew how, and went to bed alone. I
did that for six years. A man gets lonely for a woman’s touch. I’m sure you can relate to that.”

  “What’s wrong with paying for it, and having it delivered?” Joey taunted.

  “That would have been the smart thing.” Frank finished off his second glass of scotch. “But like you, I was young and felt invincible. Vito and I were climbing the ladder fast at that time. Our territories were growing. Money was starting to come easy. When Vito would take Grace out for an evening, he started asking me along. Grace was a gorgeous woman. Tall and dark, with the softest brown eyes and the sweetest smile. I started looking forward to those dinners. Then I started imagining what it would be like to make love to Vito’s wife.”

  Frank stepped around the bar and leaned against it. “It wasn’t Grace’s fault. I was used to getting what I wanted, and like I said, the money was coming easy. I remember feeling pretty unbeatable. One day I just decided that I wanted her, and so I took her.”

  “And then?”

  “And then a month later, hell rose up and fried my ass. I didn’t know Carlo was having me watched. One night I called Grace to meet me at a motel, and when I got there, Carlo and Vito were waiting for me. Vinnie D’Lano, too. When Grace got there, we were put in a car and driven north to Vinnie’s fishing cabin. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do. I tried to talk them out of what I was sure they were going to do, but Carlo only laughed. Vito … he didn’t say much. He just looked like he’d been gutted.”

  Frank left the bar and headed for the wall of windows behind Joey’s desk. As he stared out at the skyline, he continued. “Carlo said Grace’s infidelity was a sign that Vito was weak. He said if Vito couldn’t control his family, how could he control his action on the street? He said Vito would lose his respect and his influence unless he proved to everyone he wasn’t afraid to right the wrong. He needed to show the famiglia that he wasn’t a coward, Carlo said. And that meant he needed to kill Grace. The look on Vito’s face—I’ll never forget it.”

  Joey watched his father lower his head. It was the first time Frank had ever discussed his affair with Grace Tandi. The first Joey had heard that it was Carlo Talupa who had ordered Vito to kill his wife. He asked, “So Vito took out Grace—and what happened to you? Carlo didn’t want you dead?”