Drift

by Amy Murray

  James raised a single brow and rocked back on his heels. “That’s Thomas Bellingham’s little girl.” My mind buzzed, trying to sort through the implications. “It’d be a good reason to run. To sell a necklace for money. To leave your family behind. Especially if that family didn’t approve of Thomas.”

  I set the photograph down. “But why wouldn’t Nino want Valentina to marry Thomas? I mean, the Bellingham family was well respected and successful. Who wouldn’t want that for their daughter?”

  “My guess would be Nino. The Roselli family was one of the leading crime families in Galveston during their time.”

  “A crime family? Like the mafia? Come on,” I said rolling my eyes and imagining every mobster movie ever made. “This is Texas, not Chicago.”

  “I’m serious. The Valentine Room, from all the accounts written about it, was a private club that was also an illegal casino. Thomas, and his pristine image, certainly didn’t fit in with Nino’s crowd. Maybe after meeting Thomas, Valentina decided she wanted a different kind of life. If that was the case, they’d have to escape.”

  “We’re jumping to a lot of conclusions, but if you’re right…” My heart pounded with the possibilities. “Could she even be alive? How old would she be? Near one hundred, at least.”

  “She’s ninety-five.”

  I let out a sharp gust of air. “So she’s alive?”

  James nodded. “She lives in Galveston.”

  His words hung between us, and excitement spun in the air.

  “We need to talk to her,” I said, unable to hide the hope in my voice.

  James nodded and grabbed his keys. “Let’s go.”

  We were sitting in James’s truck, now idling in front of my apartment building. “I won’t be long.” I fiddled with my keys, more nervous than I cared to admit.

  “Do you want me to go up with you?” he asked.

  The idea was appealing, but I knew there was a good chance Gracie would be inside. I didn’t need James there to complicate the conversation. “No. Just wait here.”

  I opened the truck door, and as I was about to slide out, James touched my elbow and pulled me toward him. Our lips met in a kiss, and my arms wrapped around his shoulders.

  James pulled back and held my face in his hands. “Don’t be long.”

  I nodded and pulled myself out of his embrace. I ran to my building and took the stairs two at a time. Inside, I headed for my closet, where I retrieved a small backpack and a change of clothes. I was sliding my legs into a pair of jeans when Gracie’s voice filled the room.

  “Where’re you going?” she asked.

  I jumped and swung toward her. Her eyes were swollen like she’d been crying. I didn’t want to think about why, so I concentrated on pulling up my zipper and buttoning my jeans. “I have something I need to take care of,” I told her as I unfolded a sweater and slipped it on.

  “What, exactly?” she asked as she stared at the backpack at my feet.

  “I don’t want to bother you with it. It’s not a big deal.” I stepped around her and sat on the edge of my bed while pulling on a pair of socks.

  “You wouldn’t be bothering me. I’m actually very curious to know.”

  I stared at my feet and guilt rose up. I hated lying to her, but more than that, I hated fighting with her. “I can’t, Grace. You just have to trust me.”

  “You haven’t been home.” She lifted her hands as if trying to grasp the words she couldn’t speak. “Mack showed up here asking if I’d heard from you. He told me you were in some kind of car accident, that they’d found your car, but not you.” Tears slipped from her eyes. “What’s going on?”

  I focused on my boots and didn’t say anything. Not because I didn’t think she didn’t deserve an answer, but because she did, and I didn’t know what to tell her.

  “Will you at least look at me?” She asked, her voice rising at the end with frustration.

  I met her gaze but stayed seated.

  “I’ve been sitting here thinking the worst. I thought you died.” Grace moved to stand in front of me, her hands out and pleading. I stared at her perfectly manicured nails and wished more than anything I could tell her what was going on, but knowing about my drift would put her in danger, and I wouldn’t do that to her. “Do you have nothing to say to me?” she asked. “You’re my best friend.”

  She sat and her hip grazed mine. I laced my other boot and stood—unable to be so close and not offer her comfort.

  “Soon,” I said. “All this will be over, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  I zipped my backpack and slung it over my shoulder shaking off the surge of tears building at the backs of my eyes.

  “Do you promise?” she asked as she looked from my backpack to my face.

  “I promise.” Gracie looked apprehensive, as though she wasn’t sure she trusted me. “I know you’re worried, and to tell you the truth”—I paused and cleared my throat—“I’m scared.” I don’t know why I said it, and once it was out, I immediately regretted it.

  Gracie’s eyes widened. “Then stay. Talk to me.”

  “I can’t, even if I wanted to.” I glanced at the door and she sighed.

  She bit down on her cheek. “Is James here?”

  “He’s waiting downstairs.”

  I couldn’t tell if that made her feel worse or better. Either way, she gave a small nod and looked up at me. “Just remember your promise.”

  Before I could react, she pulled me into an embrace. I hugged her tight and left the apartment. I was two steps into the hall when a door opened and Mack stepped out. His cell phone was at his ear, and purple shadows ringed his eyes.

  “She’s here… Yes, I have eyes on her now… I’ll find out,” he said into the receiver before ending the call and shoving his cell into his pocket. Mack’s body was rigid, and while his hands were relaxed at his side, I could see the vibrating tension that kept every muscle in his body tight, ready to spring.

  “You’re back.” He looked me up and down and gave a fleeting glance to my bag. “Or are you leaving?” His eyes sparkled with something like anger.

  I could leave now, get in James’s truck, and forget about him, but my feet remained still, and an urge to confront him billowed around me as I hiked my backpack higher onto my shoulder.

  “We found your car. Do you have any idea how many people are out looking for you right now? What the hell happened last night?” he asked, stepping to my side. There was an edge to his voice, and the worry that tugged at the corner of his eyes planted a seed of doubt in my mind. Roselli could’ve lied about knowing Mack. I wouldn’t put it past him. But the truth was, I couldn’t trust Mack, either. He’d lied more times than I cared to count; he could easily be lying to me about his relationship with Roselli.

  “I find it hard to believe you don’t already know, considering the type of friends you keep.”

  He had the decency to look confused, but when I turned to leave, he stopped me by placing a heavy hand on my shoulder.

  “Do you even understand what it is that I do? What I’m trying to do for you?”

  “After last night, I’m not sure of anything.”

  His grip loosened but didn’t leave my shoulder. “I’m an agent with the FBI. It’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe, and when I don’t know where you’ve gone—”

  I laughed. “Keep me safe? Seriously? You’ve got a lot of nerve.” I jerked my shoulder from under his grip and backed up a step. Fury heated my insides until I felt like would explode from the pressure.

  Mack shook his head, and his lips twisted with indecision. He took a step in my direction, and as soon as soon as he did, I countered with a backward step.

  “Look, Abby, if this is about last night, I’m sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have let my feelings—”

  “I couldn’t care less about your feelings.”

  Mack’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay.” He tapped his fingers against his hips. “Can we talk, at least? Inside?” He motioned
to his apartment.

  “No. I have nothing to say to you that can’t be said out here.”

  Mack’s chest swelled and pressed against his shirt, his hands flexed at his sides, and he expelled a breath of frustration.

  “Why’re you so angry with me? I’ve done nothing wrong, and yet you’re standing here like I’m the enemy.”

  “Nothing wrong, huh?” Mack didn’t react. “You promised to tell me everything. You lied. I don’t know why I’m surprised, though. It should’ve been a foregone conclusion.”

  “I’ve told you everything you need to know.”

  “Right.” I debated walking away, but I was struck with the sudden desire to see his face when I confronted him. “So, your relationship with Roselli, that was something I didn’t need to know?” Something flickered in his eyes. “That’s right, he told me you were friends.”

  “He’s no friend of mine.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I spat while my heart thundered in my chest.

  “Why?” His voice, deep and loud, reverberated against the concrete walls.

  Anger, white and hot, bored through me and anchored my feet to the floor. “He knew where to find me. He knows about my drift. If you didn’t tell him, then please explain to me how he found out.”

  Mack grabbed at the auburn scruff that covered his face.

  I grunted. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Roselli’s men got to you?”

  “Are you serious? No, not his men—him, as in Nino Roselli.”

  “No,” Mack shook his head. “No, Nino hasn’t left his ranch since his daughter died.”

  “Well, he was there. As if you didn’t already know.”

  “I don’t know what you think is going on between me and Nino Roselli, but whatever it is, you’re wrong. He’s manipulating you. He wants you to doubt me, to hate me. The further you are from me, the more vulnerable you become, and if he knows about your drift, then—”

  “My dislike for you has nothing to do with Roselli. You managed that all on your own.” I swung myself around and was about to jog down the stairs when Mack spoke.

  “So that’s it? You’re going to run instead of hearing me out.”

  “There’s nothing you can say.”

  A door opened, and Mack’s next-door neighbor peered outside. “Is everything okay out here?”

  “Fine,” we answered in unison.

  “Then do you mind keeping it down?” I glanced at the man and gave him an apologetic nod. The man closed his door, and Mack and I stood in uncomfortable silence.

  “Come inside. You heard Roselli tell you his side. Give me the chance to tell you mine.” Mack’s palms turned upward to the ceiling before falling to his sides. He grimaced as if there was something difficult he was trying to swallow. “Whatever he’s told you, he’s twisted it to benefit him. I’m trying to help you. You have to know that.”

  His eyes were pleading—no—begging me to hear him out, and it was that look that tugged at my chest. I’d seen it before, and while I knew I had no reason to trust him, something told me I should.

  “You have five minutes. Nothing more.” There was relief there—genuine relief—but whether it was because I’d agreed to hear him out, or that I’d been gullible enough to fall for his lies, I wouldn’t know. At least, not until it was too late.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The moment the door closed, I questioned my decision. I should’ve told James, and now that I was alone with Mack, that oversight seemed vast and unforgiving.

  “You have four minutes, Mack.”

  “I’ve never lied to you,” he said. “I may not have told you everything, but I wouldn’t lie. Not to you.”

  “Then explain it to me.” My voice broke under the strain. “He told me that someone on the inside led him to me. If it wasn’t you, then—”

  His head rocked from side to side, and when he spoke, it was with quiet calm. “I don’t know what you think you heard, but it wasn’t me. I would never—”

  “So, you don’t know him, personally, I mean?”

  Mack’s lips clamped shut, and he stared at his feet. He didn’t have to say anything. The truth was evident.

  “You’re a real piece of work.”

  “It’s not what you think. We aren’t friends. We never were. It’s just that—” Mack reached out for my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. “Please, you have to understand.”

  I heard his words, and I heard them echo again from somewhere else, from somewhere far away. The pit of my stomach hollowed, and I swayed on my feet.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said—” His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear anything over the echo. Mack squeezed my hand, and I met his eyes. That look was back—the one so familiar—the one that tugged at my chest and made me doubt everything I held true. A faint smell of tobacco tickled my nose, and the pull of my drift yanked at my soul.

  Gray smoke billowed as Nino Roselli puffed on his cigar. I was quaking with fear, and here he stood, so happy and content. He’d called our first encounter a memorable night, like there hadn’t been a brutal murder, like we were old friends reunited. He’d said it like James’s life meant nothing, and I was a pawn in his game, to be used and tossed away.

  I hated him. I hated him more than should be possible.

  “Colin, my dear friend, I’m still waiting on an introduction.”

  I turned and Colin’s hand dropped from my shoulder. His eyes were drawn and tight at the corners, and in them, I saw guilt and even disgust, but above all, I saw the truth.

  “No.” I shook my head and clutched harder at the shoe I held. “You saved me. You couldn’t have—” But there was nothing in his expression to deny it, to convince me I was wrong, and the fissure that resided inside my heart spread wide and gaping.

  “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me it wasn’t you. Tell me you didn’t kill James.” How had this man, this man I loved, turned into someone I didn’t even know?

  He took my hand in his and clamped our palms together.

  “Please,” he said. The words ripped from his lips in a way that was grotesque and pleading. “You have to understand.” He broke off when Roselli stepped between us and clapped a hand on each of our shoulders.

  “No need to apologize now, my friend. I think she very well hates you.” He laughed, then, too loud and shrill to be real.

  “Abigail,” Colin pleaded, ignoring the man between us.

  I pulled my hand from his and took several steps toward the shelf Colin had patiently built after I’d complained there wasn’t enough space for my books. Setting my broken shoe on an empty ledge, I ran my hand over the polished wood, and the diamond ring, the one he’d given me when he asked me to marry him, sparkled under the light.

  I moved my finger back and forth, marveling at how ugly and heavy the ring had become. The night he’d found me in that alley, I’d known he was running from something horrible. He’d never hidden that fact, and I’d never asked what it was he’d done. I’d assumed it had nothing to do with me, when in actuality it had everything to do with me. Nausea swirled in my throat. How could I have been so wrong?

  “I didn’t know who he was,” he said. “To you. I didn’t know he was your—”

  I picked up a framed photograph—one of Colin and I—and threw it at him. I missed, and the frame crashed against the wall. The glass shattered, and fragments scattered across the wood floor.

  “You knew that night! You knew I loved him. I told you as much.” I gasped when the last image I had of James, lifeless on the concrete, flashed in my mind. “You knew you were responsible when you picked me up and carried me away from his body. You knew when you asked me to marry you.” I pulled the ring off my finger and threw it at him, and this time, I didn’t miss. The ring hit Colin in the chest, but he didn’t move to catch it. It fell to the ground and lay in the pile of broken glass. “You’re a liar and a murderer.”

  Roselli clapped, slow and deliberate, and a chu
ckle erupted from his chest. “This is all very heartwarming. However, I did actually come here for a purpose. I suspect you know what that is.” He raised a brow and turned to me, his face now sober and without a hint of mirth. “Where’s my necklace?”

  No one spoke. The only sound was my labored breathing.

  “She doesn’t know where it is,” Colin said in a flat voice. I looked to Colin, but he only had eyes for Roselli. I stared at his features, the same I’d always known, but they were somehow different. More cunning. More purposeful. More frightening.

  “Then I’ll ask you. Where is it?” Roselli said turning to Colin.

  “You’ll never know.”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Roselli clucked. “Not playing very smart here, are you Colin?” From his side he pulled a revolver I hadn’t seen. He opened the cylinder, snapped it closed, and gave it a spin for good measure. “You’ll tell me what I want to know.” Pulling the hammer back, he lifted the gun and aimed it at my head. “Or your wife dies.”

  A hollow pounding pulled me away from my drift and back into the present. “Open the door, McCormack.” I heard James’s voice, but it was muffled and distant.

  I blinked the room into focus as Mack’s apartment door swung open. I turned, somewhat dazed, and saw James standing in the doorway.

  His eyes, curious at first, turned a stormy black as they flicked between me and Mack.

  “James,” I breathed. “You’re here.”

  “I am,” he said and raised his brow as he looked at my hand.

  All at once, the situation came into focus. Mack and I were standing in the center of the room, our bodies close and our hands linked together. I pulled my fingers from his and took a step back.

  “You’re bleeding,” James said as he strode into the apartment, barely giving Mack a second look.

  I wiped at my nose and saw the red that covered my fingers. Mack turned his back, and James led me to the bathroom.

  “Sit here,” he said as he shut the lid of the toilet. James pulled several tissues from a box on the counter and handed them to me. I pressed them to my nose and rested my elbows on my knees.