Sometime during the night, the guilt she felt over betraying Rico evaporated. In actuality, it was her guilt over her own feelings of love for him that still lingered. She had no reason to feel guilty about going on with her life, as he'd done so easily before his death. He'd discarded her love and all their years of friendship as if they were worthless.
Now it was time for her to let go of her anger and tuck her love for him away into a part of her heart where she could treasure the good he'd brought to her life. It was time for her to live.
Gage brought about this change. Suddenly she was thinking about spending time with him, doing normal day-to-day things. Spending her nights with him, doing all sorts of—
"Mom!" squealed Rafe, bounding onto her bed, his energy recharged after a good night's sleep. In his eyes she saw Rico, and for once didn't feel the reflexive clench around her heart.
She smiled at her son, grabbing him for a big hug and kisses. "I love you, buster," she said.
"I love you, Mom," he replied, a proud grin at his correct pronunciation.
"Good job!"
His grin widened even farther. "Mom? Where's Mr. Mohwan?"
"I imagine he's sleeping," she said, with an inward smile at the thought of Gage sprawled across a bed.
"Why didn't he sleep here?"
Out of the mouths of babes. "Because he has his own bed, at his own house, sweetie. Where's your sister?" she asked, getting them both off the subject of Gage and beds.
"Downstairs with Grandma."
"Why don't you go down and join them? I overslept, so I'll shower and be down in a few minutes."
"’Kay!" he yelled, giving her a high-five.
Anna watched her son tumble off the bed and out the door as fast as his short legs could carry him.
She took a deep breath. "Thank you for them, Rico," she said with a glance through the window at the blue, blue sky.
* * *
"Did you put everything you needed on the list?" Anna asked, tucking coupons inside her pocket.
"Sí," Lina called from her room.
"We'll be back later then," she said, stepping out onto the porch to join the twins. Her stomach seesawed at the sight of them with Gage.
Oh, goodness. She wasn't ready to face him so soon. No, she could do this. All she had to do was act like a mature, sophisticated woman and keep her hands to herself.
Easier said than done.
"Mom! Mr. Moran's coming with us!"
She quickly sought Gage's reaction to her daughter's announcement. Only heated memories and desire lurked in his heavy-lidded eyes.
"Hope you don't mind. I was on my way there when I saw the kids." He shifted and shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts, smiling at her with all the sincerity of a toothpaste commercial.
If he wasn't lying through his teeth, she'd eat her socks.
"I'll even help you carry in your groceries," he added with a heavy dose of charm.
Now she knew he was lying. What man on this earth volunteered to carry in groceries? Actually, his obvious ploy to spend time with her clenched her heart in a sweet fist.
* * *
Deftly removing a cereal box of potential cavities from Rafe, she glanced at Gage for the zillionth time. Expression grim, his regret over joining them painted his face in stem lines. Shopping with two children was always an adventure, and he obviously wasn't enjoying it.
Disappointment settled in her chest. If he couldn't spend this kind of time with her children, she couldn't even think of seriously dating him.
At the checkout, she caught him staring out the front windows at the parking lot. "What are you looking for?"
Startled eyes met hers, "Nothing."
She arched a brow at him and swung a packed bag into the cart.
Rico worked at hiding his growing unease. He didn't like the fact she noticed it. His first visit to the supermarket in years would have been fun if not for all the people, banging carts and ringing registers. They were too open to an attack. He needed to get them out of here now.
The group made their way to Anna's huge Ford Expedition, and the adults loaded it while the kids tried to help.
Only four other people were outside the small store. Two elderly women were making their way inside, a man busily counted his change while hurrying to his car, a harried woman dug through her purse before triumphantly pulling out keys.
Suddenly the small rubber ball Rafe had gotten out of the store vending machine slipped from his fingers. As if in slow motion Rico watched it bounce across the pavement to stop against the store.
Rafe looked both ways before skipping after it. All at once the prickling feeling at the base of Rico's neck spread to his heart, and his pulse kicked into high gear.
From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a black van turning into the parking lot. It inched its way in.
He gauged the distance between himself and his son.
A glance showed Anna buckling Rebecca into one of the child seats in the back.
"Come on, Rafe," he said, fighting the urge to yell as he walked toward his son.
Without warning, the van accelerated, a grinding sound that obliterated the peaceful morning. He ran the rest of the way, snatched Rafe up and held him tight to his chest. Turning, he ran back to the Expedition. The van sped by, and air buffeted his back. A quick look confirmed his worst fears. No license plates.
And the man who slammed the side door shut wore a black ski mask.
Anna spun around as the van roared by them. "He almost hit you!"
She hadn't seen the attempt to grab Rafe, "He's fine, Bella. Give me the keys," he said, while handing his son to her.
"What?" she asked, still checking Rafe for injuries. "Shouldn't we call the police or something? That maniac could have killed you both!"
With her arms around Rafe, he easily took the keys from her hand. "Why don't you belt him into his seat?"
When she only stared at him, he dropped all pretence and could hear the growl in his voice. "Now."
She hesitated, then appeared to make a decision and did as he asked. She climbed into the passenger seat and leaned over to pop the hood when he asked. His cautious check showed no one had tampered with the vehicle while they'd been inside. He'd doubted it would have happened with so many people around, but couldn't afford assumptions. Grateful Anna held her questions, he sped home, constantly keeping a lookout for company.
Relief filled him when his mother greeted them from the porch. He'd been terrified they'd try to grab her instead.
"Did you get everything?" she called, before picking up on the tension between the adults. She pursed her lips and gave him a narrowed look. "Angeles, why don't we go play in the backyard?"
He checked the urge to order everyone inside. He would give the yard a look, but the upcoming conversation needed to be private.
Putting his six grocery bags on the table, he wondered how long before Anna hit him with questions.
He didn't wait long.
"Are you going to explain?"
"We have to talk."
She slammed the refrigerator door after putting the milk away. "Obviously."
He watched his children playing with his mother. After this failed attempt, it was doubtful they'd try again so soon. They'd need to regroup. Even so, there wasn't much time.
Dammit, he didn't want her to find out like this. But there was no other way. Someone had tried to grab Rafe. Did they know who he was? Or was this revenge against a "dead" man?
He turned back to her. "I think you should sit down." She needed to know the danger he'd put them in, as much as he wanted to protect her from it.
"That bad?" she asked, leveling him with a hard look as she sat.
"The driver of the van purposely headed for Rafe." The thought alone flooded him with rage. They wouldn't get his family!
They'd have to through him first.
"Excuse me?" she said, a nervous laugh trailing off.
"Someone tried to ta
ke him. I saw the van door open and a man, dressed in black, reached out to grab him."
She shot to her feet, slapped her hands on the table and leaned across it. "And you didn't let me call the police? I can't believe this, Gage! You save my son from a possible kidnapping and then rush us out of there? We have to get them!"
"We can't call the police."
"Who are you to decide? Someone tries to take my son and you think you're going to keep me from calling the police?" She marched to the phone and had two numbers punched in before he seized it from her grasp. Infuriated, she made to grab it back, but he put the cordless on the counter and grasped her upper arms.
"Listen to me, Anna. Listen. You can't call them. There's too much you don't know and they can't help us, anyway."
She pulled away, backed up a few steps and studied him. Emotions fired across her face until only wariness and, thank God, anger remained. Anger he could deal with.
"Tell me why we can't call the police."
Proud of her for holding it together, regardless of the tremor in her voice, his view of her changed again. She might hate him for all this, but she wouldn't break.
"Because we can't tell them who I really am." He took a deep breath and sent a rusty prayer to the heavens. "I'm the reason they tried to grab Rafe."
"What?" she scoffed, but her eyes remained glued to his. No matter how he told her this, she'd be confused and scared. "I think someone has found out who I am and tried to take Rafe for revenge."
The silence hung suspended before she burst out. "Well, who are you?"
He looked at the shiny floor, fighting himself. As badly as he wanted to tell her, he didn't want to see her hate for him.
"I'm surprised you don't know. I made a mistake with the yo-yo. I hadn't been thinking straight…"
He stopped talking as horror widened her eyes.
"Who … are … you?"
"You know. Your heart knows."
You know.
The ice trickling through her made it difficult to breathe, difficult to think, difficult to push the echoes from her mind. And she desperately needed to think, to make sense of nonsense, separate nightmare from reality.
Your heart knows.
Everything inside her abruptly went numb. Her mind became a blank space, incapable of conjuring up a response, her feelings deadened. She floated there for a minute, in that peaceful, white cloud of nothingness until she became aware of his voice and its urgency.
"Bella?"
With one word, he shattered her. It was like being frozen cold, then blasted with heat; pinpricks of pain raced through her body, bringing to life nerves long cold.
But she didn't welcome the familiar warmth following the thaw and strove for control in those tension-riddled seconds.
"What did you say?" Disappointment weighed heavy. She'd begun to care for him, coming alive with feelings that died with Rico.
"I called you 'Bella.'"
In a flash she remembered him using the nickname as he handed Rafe to her in the parking lot. "Don't call me that! You have no right!"
"I have every right. I'm the only one who's ever shortened your name to it."
Chest heaving, she fought her rising hysteria. With measured breaths, she pushed the words past her clenched teeth. "I want you out of my house. Now."
"I'm not going anywhere. I know this is hard for you. I know I sound crazy. But it's true."
She started taking sideways steps from the kitchen to the den's sliding glass doors.
"It's me," he burst out to stop her retreat. "Rico!"
She blanched and froze. "How dare you! What kind of sick game are you playing?"
"It's the truth. My name is Americo Stephano Carella, named for Papa's Italian relatives. My twin was Rafael Esteban Carella, named for Mama's Spanish family. We were born on Mischief Night…"
"You could have gotten that information anywhere!" she interrupted hotly.
"The first night we made love, you came out of the hotel bathroom in a short white nightgown you had saved up for. You wore your hair loose the way I loved it. You never knew how nervous I was, how scared I'd hurt you and you'd never want me again…"
"Enough!" she shouted, breaking into his relentless remembrance. "I don't know who told you these things or why you're saying them, but the proof you need is something you can never have! You look nothing like him. Nothing! How could you think I'd believe this insanity?"
In an abrupt move he tilted his head back and reached up to an eye. What was he doing? Maybe I should call the police. He could be dangerous. He could be…
Her thoughts ended as she realized Gage pulled a contact lens from his eye. Without looking at her, he removed the other and laid them on the table.
Then he faced her without blinking.
"Oh … my … God." She blindly reached out a hand and braced herself against the glass door, vaguely registering its warmth. Black dots swam before her eyes, and anger and a dizzying loss of blood added to her faintness.
Because glowing golden eyes watched her – not velvety brown.
Her son, Rafe's eyes.
Rico's eyes.
He took a step toward her. "No, stay … there," she choked out, needing the space separating them. Was it possible? Could Rico really be alive? Tears burned her eyes while unbridled hope grew, fueled by the many odd coincidences since Gage's arrival.
"Just sit down. I don't want you falling. I can't catch you from here."
Anna slid down the wall, lowered her head and began massaging her temples. She waited for the barrage of questions to hit, but curiously there were none.
Finally, she looked at him and then quickly away. It hurt too much to look into those eyes. With a deep breath she clenched her teeth and met his gaze. "This … you can't be alive." Her hands lay palms up on her knees. She had no strength to move them.
"But I am." His voice, huskier than usual, rolled over her in a gentle wave.
"How?" she barely whispered.
"How," he repeated. His chest expanded and eyebrows rose. "Let's break this down a little. Your question covers a lot of ground." As if afraid of spooking her, he lowered himself to the floor across from her. "My funeral was staged by the government for two reasons. One, they didn't believe I'd live more than a few days, anyway. Second, they wanted to protect my mother and anyone else associated with me."
Seconds ticked past. "From who?"
"From the people who did this to me," he said in a low voice, the bright sunlight highlighting the weaving pink and white scars on the hand gesturing to his face.
She shook her head and he hurried on. "I know this is going to be hard to understand, so bear with me. I joined a group after reenlisting. Our missions were covert, known only to the men who sent us on them. We went to different places all over the world to gather information or for surveillance. On one of those assignments, two of us gained access to the specified area and, after getting what we needed, we were caught leaving. Only one of us could get away. He did. The people who caught me were upset and wanted answers I couldn't give them. After I was rescued, I needed plastic surgery to fix all the bones. This is the result."
Anna relaxed against the wall and folded her arms across her chest. Either this was shock or subconsciously she realized the truth a while ago, she admitted to herself.
The more he spoke, her astonishment about his identity transformed into certainty. His eyes were more than evidence enough, but his patronizing explanation reminded her of all the talks they'd had before about the military. He would give her the bare facts to placate her, and many times she had let him in order to avoid their opposing opinions over army procedures and ideas.
But not this time.
"I need a drink. Do you want anything?"
He shook his head.
She stood, stiffening against the unsteadiness until it passed. Skirting around him, she went into the kitchen and calmly, as if none of the past fifteen minutes had happened, she poured herself a Coke.
&
nbsp; He's alive.
She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them and glanced into the den. He was still there.
"This cannot be happening," she whispered, and took another sip. Maybe I'm dreaming. Or hallucinating. She put the glass onto the counter and pinched herself.
Damn.
Okay, get a hold of yourself, Anna. Now is not the time to get punchy. Dear God, someone tried to take Rafe.
She drained her soda and washed the glass by hand, all the while pushing away the questions from her heart. Her family was in danger and she needed details.
She dried her hands on a towel, then carefully placed it on the butcher-block island. Sucking in a fortifying breath, she strode into the den and sat back down on the floor.
She forced herself to look at him. Rico. Steeling her heart, she asked calmly, "Is that everything?"
His half nod, half shrug answered for him.
"Bull," she said.
He looked startled.
"I'm surprised you think I'd accept that."
"It's the truth," he all but stuttered.
She rested her chin on her bent fingers and gave him a stare designed to unsettle him.
"What exactly do you want to know that I didn't tell you?" he asked in guarded words.
Men. He gave her a story with more holes than Swiss cheese and expected her to accept it. Just comes back from the dead and expects her to smile and throw a welcome-home party.
She had questions now, plenty of them. And that didn't even count the ones about her and Rico.
"These people you went after … who were they? What did you get from them? Where were the rest of the men you were with, and why didn't they help you? Why didn't the other guy stay instead of you? How long did those animals use you as a punching bag? Why are these animals still running around after you if you're 'dead?' What other injuries did they cause? And don't downplay it, because I've seen you limp and wince when you thought no one was looking. Your hands are a wreck and your whole body shape is different. And last, at least for the moment, you say the government expected you to die and staged the funeral. So why haven't you gotten in touch with us sooner? What in God's name have you been doing for the last nineteen months?"
TWICE UPON A TIME Page 7