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

Home > Other > One Way Out (Silhouette Intimate Moments No. 1211) (Silhouette Intimate Moments, 1211) > Page 11
One Way Out (Silhouette Intimate Moments No. 1211) (Silhouette Intimate Moments, 1211) Page 11

by Wendy Rosnau


  She kissed him and stroked his bare chest. Her fingers worked open his belt and unzipped his pants. She’d never been aggressive sexually. Early in her marriage to Stud, he had made her afraid, and she’d become frigid. He had accused her of being cold and unfeeling, and she had thought that maybe he was right. Then Joey had entered her life, and the fear had melted away. With him, she had felt only hot. Starved.

  Everything had been different with Joey. She couldn’t explain why. All she knew was that from the beginning he’d set her on fire, both emotionally and physically.

  She slid her hand into his pants and moved her fingers over him until he was a piece of stone in her hand. She continued to stroke him while they kissed, his tongue pushing past her teeth to taste her. She made a little hungry noise in the back of her throat when his hands moved to her backside to fondle her.

  They were both panting and moaning when he abruptly broke free. Quickly he sent his pants and shorts to the floor, then said, “Take off your panties.”

  Rhea did as he asked, sliding the black panties down her thighs and past her knees. When she stepped out of them and looked up, Joey was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her. She came to him, wearing her black chemise and nothing else, knowing his eyes were locked on the visible silky blond curls between her legs.

  A moan ripped through him as he reached for her and swept her onto the bed. He rolled with her, and she was suddenly beneath his muscular body.

  Kissing her hard and fast, he said, “I don’t want to rush this. Not like this afternoon.”

  Rhea said, “Let me be on top. Let me straddle you.”

  She had never uttered those words before—had never ridden. When they had been together three years ago, she had barely been able to move. The sex they had shared had been restrained and agonizingly slow.

  She ached to move with him, to touch him and slide her body over him. To be his equal.

  He cupped her satin-covered breasts. Lightly brushing his fingers over her aroused nipples, he smiled, then said, “So the lady likes to ride, does she?”

  Rhea blushed. “You said you didn’t want to rush. I thought maybe if I—”

  He lowered his head, his lips finding first one breast, then the other. Through the satin, he teased and sucked until the chemise clung to her and outlined her nipples. “I don’t want to rush, but I need to be inside you,” he whispered, then slid forward and started into her. “I remember the look on your face that first time. The way you came … I’ve never been able to forget it. It was like I was the first for you. The only man who had—”

  He stopped moving. Rhea was sure it was because he had felt her stiffen, and why he was suddenly looking at her with questioning eyes.

  “That’s it, isn’t it. Why I couldn’t forget any of it. It was the first time for you, wasn’t it?”

  Yesterday he had taped her confessing to Frank that she loved him. Minutes ago, he’d touched her scars. For him to discover that he was the single force behind her womanhood was simply too much. Rhea tried to break free, but it only served to set his body on course once again, and he began to sink into her.

  The look in his eyes told her there was no use denying it. He knew he was the only man who had ever sent her body soaring. Unable to remove herself in body, she closed her eyes and turned her head. Without warning, he gripped her waist, then rolled onto his back and set her astride him. Still inside her, he fastened his hands around her waist and arched his hips to keep her seated on his pulsing erection.

  “Joey…”

  A primitive moan erupted from somewhere deep inside him, and he muttered, “Take me, darlin’. Ride me.”

  He was in as much need as she was, Rhea realized, and she relaxed her hips, the act driving him deeper inside her. As the air left his lungs, another moan surfaced from the depths of him.

  Rhea could feel him swelling inside her, and she leaned forward and kissed him. Having learned from him, she swept her tongue into his mouth to taste him.

  The fact that she was seducing him and he was letting her magnified her desire, and as she began to ride him harder, she realized it was quite possible that this was the first time Joey Masado had ever surrendered any part of himself to anyone.

  * * *

  Joey felt a warm hand move over his chest, and he smiled and blinked awake. Ready to roll Rhea to her back and bury himself inside her, he was startled to see his son sitting beside him holding his bear.

  Grinning down at him, Niccolo removed his hand from Joey’s chest and replaced it with his bear. “Mama’s in da baffroom. Nana’s in da kitchen sweeping cwumms. She says der evywhere.”

  Joey sat up and glanced at the clock. It was after twelve, and he couldn’t believe that he’d slept the entire morning away. Suddenly it registered that he was supposed to meet Jackson and Lucky in his office at one o’clock.

  “Nicci! If you’ve woken up your father, your mother is going to be angry.”

  Both Joey and Niccolo looked toward the partially closed door. It was Opal Carvino’s voice coming from the hall. Niccolo’s grin disappeared. He looked back at his father, his eyes indicating he was in trouble.

  Joey winked, then smiled. “It’s okay. We’ll tell Mama I was already awake.”

  “Nicci? Come out here right now.”

  “Otay, Nana.” Niccolo grabbed his bear, scooted off the bed and headed for the door. Just before he slipped out to face Opal, he turned and waved at his father.

  When the door closed, Joey climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Naked, he opened the door and stepped inside. The shower was running, and his eyes locked on Rhea’s silhouette inside the large glassed-in cylinder shower.

  Anxious to keep his appointment with Lucky and Jackson, he crossed the room and opened the door. But as he stepped inside, he remembered Rhea’s reluctance last night to reveal her scars to him. She was beneath the shower spray and her eyes were closed. She raised her arms to rinse the shampoo from her hair, and in that split second, he saw the vivid scar that marred her right breast.

  The scar traveled from the right side of her nipple outward, then curved up along her rib cage. It was a scar you would never forget once you saw it, and the sight of it twisted Joey’s gut.

  Sure she would be upset with him if she saw him there, he reached for the door. But that’s as far as he got. Suddenly she blinked open her eyes and saw him. Her hands stilled in her hair.

  Any minute, he expected her to make a sudden move to shield her breast, but to his surprise she didn’t. He saw no anger in her eyes, either. Maybe a twinge of uncertainty, but he could handle that.

  He said, “I came to wash your back, darlin’.”

  “Is that all you came for?”

  “No. I came to say good morning.”

  “Would that be a long good morning? Or are you in a hurry?” She lowered her hands and stepped out of the shower spray. “Before you answer that, take a good look, Joey. If you decide you’re in a hurry … I’ll understand.”

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  ”This is insane, Joe. The craziest idea you’ve ever had. You show up over two hours late for our meeting, and then you offer this as your plan.”

  “It’ll work,” Joey insisted. “It’s a good plan.”

  “It’s a piece of crap,” Jackson argued. “Suicide!”

  From behind his office desk, Joey glanced at Lucky, who was behind the bar sipping on a late lunch.

  Lucky shrugged. “I didn’t think he was going to go for it, fratello.”

  Jackson turned and scowled at Lucky. “And you do?”

  “I didn’t at first. There’s risks involved. But the more I think on it, like Joey says, it’s a good plan.”

  Jackson spun back around. “I won’t do it!”

  Joey ignored Jackson‘s outburst and said, “The best part is, we can move as soon as we iron out the rough spots.”

  Jackson snorted. “That would be the entire plan. Every part of it i
s rough.”

  “The sooner we hit Carlo, Jacky, the better.”

  “That’s the only thing we’ve agreed on so far, Joe.”

  Joey looked to Lucky. “So what do you think? Think we can get it put together in twenty-four hours?”

  Jackson swore. “Don’t ask him what he thinks. That’s like asking a blazing fire how hungry it is. You know he’s going to want to do it just because I think it stinks.”

  “Where the hell are the reserves, Joey?” Lucky’s voice was muffled this time. He was on his knees behind the bar looking for more scotch. “We can’t be out.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me, the way you’re always raiding my stock,” Joey complained, knowing the truth of the matter was that he’d stashed the extra bottles behind the vodka. If Lucky was going to drink, he’d have to work for it. He glanced at Jackson. “What the hell are you looking at?”

  “You. Your eyes are starting to look like Lucky’s. You taking up drinking, or haven’t you been sleeping? And just why were you two hours late? You never said. Niccolo keep you up half the night?”

  “Actually, he did,” Joey offered, not willing to explain what had kept him up after his son had finally fallen asleep. Or why he’d been two hours late. “So we’ll put this idea on paper and see what it looks like, right?”

  Jackson paced to the window. “There’s got to be a better way.”

  ”Gettin‘ old, or soft, Jacky?” Lucky’s voice was no longer muffled. He was back on his feet, uncorking one of the elusive bottles of scotch he’d unearthed from behind the vodka.

  Jackson turned, held up his middle finger and waved it at Lucky.

  Joey leaned back in his desk chair and watched the show, as Lucky waved back using the same finger.

  Jackson came back to the desk. If his eyes had been bullets, Lucky would have been back on his knees.

  “If Jacky goes over that bar, Lucky, I’m not going to stop him,” Joey warned. “Now let’s get back to the plan. So you’re out, then. Is that it, Jacky?”

  When Jackson didn’t answer, Joey said, “Fine. We’ll get someone else to take your place. If you don’t want to be involved, I understand. No pressure and no hard feelings.”

  “No hard feelings?” It was Lucky’s voice. “Hell, yes, there will be hard feelings. He’s the best, Joey. I won’t agree to the plan if Jacky’s out.”

  This time it was Joey’s turn to swear. “I’m going through with this plan. So decide here and now if you’re players or not. If you two are so cozy that you can’t be separated, then I don’t need either of you. You got a minute to make up your minds.”

  “You can’t do this alone, Joe,” Jackson argued.

  Lucky rounded the bar. “You called the plan crazy, Jacky. That’s the beauty of it. It’s so far to the left, Carlo won’t see us coming. All joking aside, we can’t do this without you, fratello.”

  As he passed Jackson on his way to Joey’s desk, Lucky wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Come, let’s sit down and talk some more. If I can strengthen that limb we’re going to climb out on, maybe then you’ll agree it’s worth the risks.”

  An hour later, after Lucky had convinced Jackson to agree to the plan, Joey produced two pictures and shoved them across his desk. “Take a look at these. They were taken this morning.”

  Lucky picked up the pictures and shared them with Jackson. One was of a suit-and-tie bull-neck climbing into a black limo at the airport. The other was of a narrow-shouldered man with a crop of long red hair, wearing jeans and cowboy boots.

  Finally, Jackson tossed the pictures back on the desk. “So Mickey Norelli and Carmine Solousi have arrived.”

  Joey nodded. “That means Lucky’s information is right. Both men have accepted Carlo’s contract.”

  “I met Mickey once,” Jackson said. “He’s a real psycho.”

  “Guess we’ll be climbing out on that limb sooner than we thought,” Lucky said. “You talk to Frank about how you want to play this?”

  “That’s next, right after we agree on when and where. Then I’ll tell him what we’ve decided.”

  “He won’t like it,” Lucky warned.

  Joey stood. “He doesn’t have to like it—just be willing to do what I tell him.”

  “That’ll be new for Frank—” Lucky said, “—doing what you tell him. In fact, it’ll be a first.”

  * * *

  Rhea found the passageway by accident. Or maybe not really by accident. She’d gone looking for a bottle of wine and that’s when she discovered the door disguised as part of the mirrored wall behind the bar. At first she thought it was a storage room, and she was half right. The room was lined with wine racks. But beyond the racks she found another narrow passageway, and beyond that, another door.

  Glad that Opal was still there to watch over Nicci, she opened the next door and stepped into another small room. Feeling as if she’d walked straight into a James Bond movie, Rhea blinked, then blinked again. The room was a wall-to-wall arsenal—every kind of gun and knife imaginable hung on the wall.

  Rhea stood a moment just staring, then found the courage to move farther into the room. I know what kind of legacy I’ve given my son. As she replayed Joey’s words in her mind, she became aware that the room was unusually cool. Curious as to why that was, she went deeper into the room and discovered another door. She gripped the knob, and as she drew it open, she knew immediately where the circular stairs led.

  A blast of cold air swirled down the stairway to meet her as she started up. On reaching the top, she swung open another door and stepped out onto the rooftop of Masado Towers.

  She glanced around, assessing the large space that had been turned into a terrace complete with sturdy tables and chairs in an ornate heavy black iron. In the summertime, she imagined, the chairs would have cushions and the massive urns that decorated the space would be full of flowers. There was even a bricked-in grill for cooking.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there staring, first at Joey’s private outside world, as safe and well guarded as his penthouse, then at the view of the city. But suddenly she knew she wasn’t alone and she whirled around to find Joey standing in the doorway watching her.

  He said, “I missed having a backyard so I turned the roof into one.”

  He was wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. Not what he had gone to work in, which meant he’d been home for a while and had changed clothes.

  “It’s freezing out here, darlin’. Come on. Let’s go back inside.”

  Hugging herself, Rhea shook her head. “I saw the guns.” When he said nothing, she turned back to look out over the city. “I know what you do.”

  “Do you?”

  She turned back. “I’m not stupid.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Rhea hugged herself tighter, the cold starting to make her teeth chatter. She knew he noticed.

  He shrugged out of his leather jacket. “You can be stubborn, you know.” He reached around her and tucked her into his coat. Curling his fingers over the open edges, he dragged her close and kissed her hard, his mouth taking possession. Within seconds, desire settled into Rhea’s limbs and she sagged against him.

  It was a long time before he lifted his head, but when he did, he said, “I’m no saint, Rhea. You knew that three years ago. But you also know that I’m not a monster.” He placed his fingers against her lips when she attempted to speak. “Shh … I had planned to explain some things to you tonight, but something’s come up and I need to be somewhere within the hour.” He checked his watch, then pulled her toward the open door. “I can’t be late.”

  “Late for what?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he said, “I could be gone half the night. Don’t wait up. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  * * *

  At one-thirty a.m., Joey headed back to Masado Towers in his black Jaguar. Seated beside him, Frank puffed on his cigar, in a sour mood. As Lucky had predicted, it had taken over two hours that afternoon to conv
ince their father that he needed to leave town.

  Joey glanced at his father. “Lucky’s arranged your route. It’ll be a long trip, but in a few days you’ll be back at Santa Palazzo.”

  “I told you before, it doesn’t matter what happens to me now. What’s important is the family, Rhea, Niccolo, Grace and Elena.”

  Joey thought he heard his father’s voice falter. He glanced over and said, “This is going to work, Frank. It’s a good plan.”

  “Have you forgiven me?”

  “Let’s not go there.”

  “I don’t deserve it, Joey, but I—”

  “Twenty-four years ago, you did what you thought you had to, Frank. Three years ago, you again thought you were justified. Let’s let it go at that.”

  “When you two boys were knee-high, I should have whipped your butts for calling me Frank. I should have made you call me padre, or dad. I always wanted to hear you call me something other than Frank.”

  The confession hung in the silence.

  “Are you sure there isn’t a way to send Rhea and Niccolo with me?”

  Joey shook his head. “That’s not how the plan works. For everything to fit, they need to stay behind. At least for now. That’s the only part of this I don’t like, but if we can get Carlo to play the game our way, then we have a chance to take him down.”

  Joey took a left off of Michigan Avenue

  and headed for the parking garage beneath Masado Towers. As he passed through the gates, he nodded to the night watchman, then found his reserved parking space not far from the elevators.

  “You packed earlier, right?”

  “Yes. Lucky already picked up my bags. I admit I’m anxious to see Grace. About Elena…”

  Joey checked his watch. “You don’t have to explain, Frank. I’m a father myself, and no one needs to tell me how that feels. Let’s go.”

  It was as they climbed out of the black Jaguar and started for the elevator that Joey heard the sound of squealing tires. He spun around just as a blue van, a Masado company van, came into sight, racing along the narrow aisles like a demon from hell. The van bore down on them, its speed increasing. Suddenly it swerved sideways, and Joey saw an AR-18 poke out of the open window.

 

‹ Prev