by Day Leclaire
He shrugged. “Bad memories.”
“I’m sorry. Want to talk about it?”
She asked the question with such gentle concern, he couldn’t take offense. And though he’d rather keep the incident buried, he’d been accused all too often of shutting people out. Being a loner definitely had its downside. He didn’t want to do that to Lucia. For the first time, he decided to let someone in. To open the door, if only a crack.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself against the flood of memories. Bad memories. “I was thirteen or fourteen. Mom had been diagnosed with breast cancer and chemo was kicking her ass,” he confessed. “I thought I’d fix her something that would make her feel better. She loved lemonade and used to make it for me all the time.”
“So you fixed her some.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Did it make her sick?”
“Yeah. She drank it like a trooper and then spent the night throwing up.” He released a sigh. “I never fixed it again. I’m not sure I ever drank it again.”
She winced. “I’m so sorry, Ty. Understandable that lemonade would bring back such sad memories. Would you prefer something else?”
He shook his head. “It’s fine.”
“Did she survive?”
He liked that she asked the question without the awkwardness many displayed. “That bout. It came back a year or so later. That time she didn’t make it. She died when I was sixteen.”
To Ty’s shock, tears glistened in Lucia’s eyes. She was so tenderhearted, her vulnerability right there on the surface for everyone to see. How could she have gone through so much disillusionment at the hands of the Dantes and not grown a thicker shell? She needed that shell. Or maybe she just needed someone to protect her, if only from herself.
“What happened to you after she died?”
He pulled back, unwilling to go there. “I survived.”
Lucia’s brows drew together. “Not on the streets. Tell me you had family and didn’t end up living under a bridge.”
He shook his head. “No family. I managed, Lucia. And the day I turned eighteen, I joined the military. They became my family, for a while, anyway.” Until they were taken from him. “They made me the man I am today.”
She offered a smile, one so sweet and compassionate it threatened to tear him apart. “They did a good job.”
To Ty’s relief, his cell phone rang, putting an end to the conversation, and he immediately answered. “You’re on speaker, Juice. What’s the latest.”
“How’s Nonna?” Lucia interrupted.
“Holding on. That’s the best anyone can say.” He hesitated. “Lucia, you should prepare yourself, girl. With the amount of blood she lost and the trauma she’s suffered, it would be challenging for a young person. Nonna is far from young.”
“She’s also a fighter,” Lucia retorted with a sharp edge. “Don’t count her out.”
“No one’s counting her out. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up, either.”
“My hopes are up.” Her voice cracked and she fell silent just long enough to bring it under control. “And they’re going to stay up. She needs all of us to be positive and give her every ounce of optimism and good thoughts we possess.”
“You’re right, Lucia,” Juice said gently. “We should all do exactly that.”
“Damn right.” She gave an emphatic nod, despite the fact Juice couldn’t see it, though her tone said it all.
“Any update on the gunmen?” Ty asked.
“Yeah. Good news on that front. The police staked out Lucia’s apartment and it paid off big time. One of the crew used her key to gain access. He’s in custody and they’re in the process of making a deal with him. He’s agreed to identify the others who attacked the gala.”
“The gunmen found my purse?” Lucia asked in surprise.
“Yeah, apparently you dropped it by the door to the balcony.”
Ty nodded. It made sense she lost it right after witnessing her brother’s shooting, as well as seeing Nonna bleeding out. “Have the police uncovered anything else of interest?”
“Not that I’ve heard, but they really need to talk to Lucia.”
“Do they still suspect her?”
Her eyes widened. “Still?” she mouthed at him.
Ty gave a dismissive shrug. “Don’t worry,” he murmured.
“I don’t think so. According to my source—”
“Who shall remain nameless?” Ty inserted smoothly.
“Who shall remain nameless,” he confirmed with a chuckle. “The guy they have in custody doesn’t know her. He was told to go to her apartment and grab her because she could identify the one who organized the robbery.”
“Okay, so that confirms that it’s someone Lucia knows and will recognize. Anything else?”
“I’ll text you the lead detective’s name and number. Give him a call. Let’s see if Lucia can’t help get this buttoned up.”
“Will do.”
The call ended and Ty studied Lucia. “What do you think?”
“The police believe I’m involved?” she asked unevenly.
“I’m sure they considered the possibility, just like I did,” he informed her, keeping his words calm and matter-of-fact. “But since you’re not involved, they’ll figure that out soon enough, if they haven’t already.”
Her breath hitched. “So, you believe me?”
“Of course I believe you,” he said without hesitation. He crossed to her side and gathered her close. Stealing her chair, he sat with her tight within his hold. “I wouldn’t have made love to you last night if I didn’t. I may have caved on mixing business and pleasure, but I’m not a total idiot. I did learn something from last time.”
She covered her face with her hands, visibly struggling for control. It took her a long moment before she lowered her hands again and rested her head against his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Can you handle talking to the police?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be right here with you. I’m going to call the detective and set it up. Just be straight with them.”
“Should I have a lawyer?” she asked uncertainly.
“It’s certainly an option, but why don’t we find out what they want, first. It might not be necessary. If you feel you need one at any point, either during or after the phone call, I’ll contact Sev and have him arrange it.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Ty continued to hold her while they finished lunch, any excuse to touch her. It eased something deep inside, allowed the tension he’d experienced ever since they first met, to calm. He didn’t understand why he needed the constant contact, nor did he probe too deeply into the cause. He simply surrendered to the desire.
Not that Lucia complained. She reacted in an even more blatant manner, finding endless reasons to stroke his hand or arm. Like him, she seemed to delight in each and every skin-on-skin contact.
As soon as they finished lunch, Ty set up the interview. He sat at the table in the sunroom next to Lucia, holding her hand, resisting the temptation to pull her onto his lap again. Right now, thinking straight superseded his more basic biological needs.
After placing the call, they were put on hold for a few minutes, then a cool, dispassionate male voice came over the phone’s speaker. “This is Detective Jacobi. Could you please identify yourself?”
“Ty Masterson, Detective. I was hired by the Dantes for their protection detail the night of the gala. I’m here with Lucia Benedict.”
“And where is here?”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. Not if he could help it. “Could we return to that question at the end of the interview?” Ty temporized.
“Very well.” The detective got right down to business. “Mrs. Benedict, could you please give me your full name and date of birth?”
She cleared her throat and a surge of relief swept through Ty that the detective couldn’t see the shredded nerves emblazoned on her face. “Please call me Lucia Moretti. My birthday is Ju
ly 25th. I’m thirty.”
“Benedict is your married name?”
Ty stiffened at the question and Lucia shot him a swift, nervous glance. “It was. I’m divorced.” She took a deep breath, as though steeling herself. “I jumped into an ill-advised marriage the day I turned eighteen. It lasted less than a year.”
“Why are you still using your married name if you’ve been divorced for more than a decade?”
She blew out a sigh, stirring in obvious discomfort. “When I applied for a job with the Dantes, I didn’t want them to know my name was Moretti because they would have recognized it, so I went back to using my married name.”
“Please explain that.”
“I assume you know I’m Primo Dante’s executive assistant?”
“We’ve been given that information, yes.”
“My mother and Primo Dante’s son had an affair. My brother and I are the result.”
A brief pause ensued. At a guess, the detective was connecting the genetic dots. “So, you’re the senior Mr. Dante’s granddaughter?”
“Yes. And though they were aware of my brother’s existence, they were unaware of mine and I preferred to keep it that way until I had an opportunity to get to know them better.”
“How long have you been using the name Benedict?”
“About a year.”
“That’s the only time since your divorce you’ve used it?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head to one side. “Why?”
He ignored the question. “Do the Dantes know who you are now?”
“I believe Nonna knows.”
“The woman they shot?”
Her chin trembled. “Yes.”
“Where is your ex-husband now?”
She spared Ty a brief glance. “He’s dead. On the day our divorce was finalized, he drank himself into a stupor, climbed behind the wheel of a car, and wrapped it around the nearest pole. Fortunately, he didn’t take anyone else along with him.”
“Have you had recent contact with his family?”
Lucia shook her head. “I’m sorry. Why are you asking about my ex-husband?”
“Please answer the question.”
Ty gave her hand a supportive squeeze and she sighed. “No, I haven’t spoken to any of them since I left Andrew. They despise me. They blame me for his death.”
“Are you familiar with the name Orrin Benedict?”
It took her a moment to come up with the connection. “I think that’s Andrew’s brother.”
“Have you had any contact with him since your divorce from Andrew Benedict?”
“I already told you,” she stated evenly. “I haven’t had contact with any of the Benedicts. I never even met Orrin. I believe he was in prison during my marriage to his brother.”
“Do you know what he was charged with?”
She stilled, snatching up the last of her lemonade and taking a quick sip. “I . . . I believe it was armed robbery.”
The detective, covering the receiver, conducted a swift, whispered conversation with his colleague. He ended it with a sharp, “Tough.” Then he continued, directing his comments to them. “I’d like to text you a picture, Ms. Moretti. Tell me if you recognize the man.”
A moment later Ty’s text app pinged and he accessed the photo. It filled the screen and Lucia gasped. “That’s Harry. No, no. Henry.”
“Detective Andrew, we’ve both seen this man before,” Ty interrupted. “He’s a courier who came to Dantes the day before the gala.”
“He’s come to Primo’s office approximately half a dozen times in the last month or so.” She shivered. “I didn’t like him. There was something off about him.”
“That photo is Orrin Benedict.”
Lucia’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“We believe when you began using the name Benedict, it enabled him to track you down.”
“Why would he do that?”
“You indicated the Benedicts blame you for Andrew Benedict’s death. It might be that simple.” He paused for an instant. “We’d like to know your current whereabouts.”
Ty spoke before Lucia could say anything. “I appreciate that, Detective. I’d rather not give you that information at this time. We’re happy to cooperate with your investigation, but until you’ve arrested Orrin Benedict, I think the fewer people who know where we are, the better.”
“You are aware I can obtain that information.”
“I am. I also think you agree with me.”
For the first time, the detective allowed a hint of amusement to slide through his words. “We’ll be in touch. Please call if you think of anything further that might assist in our investigation.”
“Will do.”
Ty ended the call and turned his full regard on Lucia. She stirred in reaction, clearly uncomfortable. “You omitted a few details about yourself.”
Her gaze slid away. “You mean about my marriage?”
“I mean about your marriage.” He could tell from her expression there was more to her story than a foolish teenage marriage. “He was abusive, wasn’t he?”
She toyed with her glass of lemonade, which pretty much answered his question. “Why do you ask?”
“Just a suspicion.”
She shot him a defensive look. “What? Do I give off some sort of victim vibe or something?”
“No. But marriages don’t usually end that quickly unless there’s a serious problem.”
“You mean other than being young and stupid?”
“Other than,” he confirmed.
She maintained her defenses for a whole sixty seconds before they collapsed. “He moved us across the country from Seattle in order to live closer to his family. I had no one when he started to—” She broke off with a weary shrug.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” She released her breath in a sigh. “What he didn’t count on was Gabe. When my brother didn’t hear from me, despite repeated calls, he flew out to New Jersey and drove to our apartment. He took one look at me and had us both on the next plane home.”
“I’m looking forward to getting to know your brother better. He sounds like a special man.”
“He is.” She spared him a brief look. “When he saw the bruises and the way Andrew had hacked off my hair, I thought Gabe was going to end up in jail for murder. Instead, he cried. I’d never seen my brother cry before or since. Not when our father deserted us. Not when our mother died. But he cried because Andrew cut my hair.”
Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “Is that why you wear it so long now?”
“Yes.” Her chin shot up. “It’s sort of a screw you.”
Ty grinned. “I couldn’t agree more. And for what it’s worth, I love your hair. It’s . . . you.”
“It’s a pain. But it’s also my personal symbol of freedom.” She glanced out the window. “The snow is getting heavier.”
“I suspect we’re going to be snowed in for a few days, though they’re calling for a warm spell on Monday, so enjoy it while it lasts.” He waited a moment and then said, “It’s not your fault.”
Lucia’s hands curled into tight balls, an outward expression of inner pain. But at least she didn’t pretend to misunderstand his comment. “It is my fault. Everything that’s happened is all my fault. He attacked the Dantes because of me.”
“He attacked the Dantes because he’s a violent criminal and that’s what he’s done in the past and will do in the future if he’s not stopped. If all he’d wanted was you, he could have taken you out at any time.”
She flinched and he instantly regretted speaking with such brutal frankness. “But he wouldn’t have come to San Francisco, if it weren’t for me.”
He pulled her from her chair and into his arms. She nestled against his warmth as though she belonged. “Listen to me, Lucia. You didn’t create Orrin Benedict, any more than you created your ex-husband. For some reason that has no bearing on you, whether through some sort of genetic anomaly or environmental influence
or whatever happens to create people like them, the Benedicts grew up to become evil men. The best you can do is to get out of their way.”
“And when they won’t let you get out of their way?”
He planted a kiss in the middle of the curls on top of her head. “Then you deal with the aftermath, just like we’re doing. We hope the police can catch them and put them away for the rest of their lives.”
She clutched at his shirt, her face buried against him. “What if Nonna dies? I don’t think I can bear it. The Dantes will blame me for her death. I’ll blame me for her death.”
“I don’t know the Dantes well, but they seem like reasonable people to me.” He tipped her face to his. “Did you have any idea Orrin Benedict planned this?”
“No, of course not,” she instantly denied. “If I’d had any suspicion at all, I’d have told someone.”
“Were you involved in the robbery in any way?”
Her mouth trembled and hurt burned in her teal eyes. “No! I thought you believed me. I would never do anything to hurt the Dantes. They’re my family.”
“Exactly. They’re family. If they have an ounce of common sense, they’ll realize you’re not responsible for what’s happened.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
He shrugged. “Then I’m wrong. We’ll deal with it if it happens. But there’s no point in anticipating trouble.”
“I thought your entire job was anticipating trouble,” she muttered.
He grinned. “You got me there.” He cupped her face and took her mouth in a gentle kiss. “But there’s a difference between preparing for a possibility and dwelling on something that might not happen.”
“I need to stop thinking.”
“That would help,” he conceded. “Is there anything I can do to make that happen?”
“Yes.” She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. “Ty, would you please make love to me?”
Chapter Seven
Lucia held her breath, praying Ty wouldn’t misunderstand the question. She didn’t want him to make love to her to provide a distraction. With all that had happened over the last few days, she needed to feel alive, to acknowledge on some level that her world still held meaning.