by CINDI MEYERS
“Thank you. It’s better for all of us if we’re careful.”
She led the way to the elevator, Jake bringing up the rear. He and Sammy hadn’t exactly been friends when they’d known each other before; she suspected Sammy had been jealous of this other young man who had claimed her father’s attention.
When she started toward her room, Jake moved up beside her and took the card key from her hand, then moved past her door to his. His gallantry touched her, though she thought it was unnecessary. If Sammy really wanted to know where she was staying, she had no doubt he could find out. But she said nothing and let Jake lead the way.
She waited until they were in the room with the door shut before she spoke. “How have you been, Sammy? And how are Stacy and Carlo?”
“Carlo is getting big, talking up a storm. Stacy still hates my guts, but nothing new about that.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Anne said. She knew her brother’s marriage had been more a business arrangement than a love match, but she’d hoped with time the couple would be happier.
“What about you? Please tell me you haven’t gone and married this scum.” He scowled at Jake.
“Don’t hold back, Sammy,” Jake said. “Let us know how you really feel.”
“I never liked you from the moment I laid eyes on you,” Sammy said. “You were too cocky by half. It was bad enough you fooled Elizabeth, but then you had the old man believing your lies. I thought the one good thing to come out of that night was that we were rid of you.”
“Sammy, stop it.” Anne stepped between the two men. “I didn’t invite you here to listen to you two bicker with each other.”
“Then why did you want to see me?” He sat in the room’s only chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He was a big, powerful man, and the posture only emphasized this. Anne had a hard time seeing the little boy he’d once been in the muscular, scowling figure before her. She’d counted on his fond feelings for her swaying him to her position, but now she wondered if that was even possible, especially given his antagonism toward Jake.
“I was hoping you’d tell me where Sam and the others are staying,” she said.
“Why? So your boyfriend can swoop in and finish what he started a year ago?”
That was why they were here, but she didn’t think stating it so boldly would help their case. The key to dealing with Sammy, ever since he was a toddler who wanted to stay up past his bedtime, was to persuade him to see how doing what you wanted would benefit him. First, she had to get past his animosity for Jake. “Jake isn’t my boyfriend. Until recently I thought he was dead. And he doesn’t work for the FBI anymore.”
“Then what are you doing with him? And why are you here in Telluride?”
Jake was here for revenge—but why was she here? Not to rekindle her romance with Jake. They’d already agreed that wasn’t possible. But being with him had reminded her of all she was missing by hiding from life.
“I’m tired of running away,” she said. “Tired of living a lie. I want to be able to go places and meet people without always looking over my shoulder. You can help me.”
He looked wary. “How can I do that?”
“Tell us where Sam is. Help us put him in prison again.”
“He’ll just get out. He has powerful friends in high places.”
“Is Senator Nordley one of those friends?” Jake asked.
“What’s it to you, Mr. Not-a-Fed?”
“I still have contacts in the Bureau.”
“It doesn’t matter who my father’s friends are, just know that he’s got them.”
“They’re closing in on your father’s benefactor, whether it’s Nordley or someone else,” Jake said. “He won’t be able to help the Giardinos much longer.”
“I didn’t ask Sammy here to talk about all that,” Anne said. She put her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Did you know Sam is trying to kill me? He’s sent people after me three times now.”
“Three times and you’re still alive?” Sammy uncrossed his arms and looked her up and down. “You’re either very good or very lucky. I’m thinking lucky.”
“You think it’s all right that your father is trying to murder your sister?” Jake’s voice rose; Anne feared he was in danger of losing his temper.
“You make it sound like a Greek tragedy.” Sammy shrugged. “But in a way, I guess it is. She betrayed the family honor, so now she has to die.”
His words sent a chill through her. “Is that really how you think?” she asked. The idea that even Sammy could regard her with such coldness filled her with immense sadness.
He shook his head. “My opinion doesn’t count. Ask Pop—he’ll tell you that.”
“If your father is back in prison, where he belongs, you’ll be head of the family,” Jake said.
“And then you can come after me.”
“I don’t have a beef with you.”
“Yet.” He turned his attention back to Anne. “Are you sure Pop is behind these attempts to off you?”
“I recognized one of the men as having worked for him. And you heard him in court. He said I was dead to him, and he’d make sure that was the case.”
“He said that in court because he was furious at being taken in. Since then, he’s calmed down a lot.”
“What do you mean, calmed down?” Sam had always had a volatile temper, and he was not a man prone to forgiveness. Anne could think of more than one person who’d met with an “unfortunate accident” after incurring her father’s wrath; no doubt there were many more she didn’t know about.
“Now you’re the prodigal daughter,” Sammy sneered. “You’re his darling Elizabeth who could do no wrong. You were led astray by that FBI scum. And you never meant for things to turn out the way they did.”
“He said those things about me?” she asked. “Really?”
“Only a hundred times. And in the next breath he’s telling me how worthless I am. Why couldn’t I be the one who went away, and not his darling Elizabeth?”
“So you’re saying he doesn’t want me dead?” She fought back the surge of hope that threatened to overtake her.
“I’m saying he doesn’t talk like he wants you dead.” He turned to Jake. “He’d gladly see you in hell, though. If he finds out you survived the attack last year, you’d better watch your back.”
“So he doesn’t know I’m alive?” Jake asked.
“He never mentioned it. And I think he would have.” He grinned at Jake, a horrible smile that made Anne shudder. “Maybe I should take you out—earn some points with Pop.”
Jake never flinched. “Why mess up your clean record? The feds don’t have anything on you. They don’t have any reason to come after you once your father’s out of the way.”
“Except I’m a Giardino and they’ve got it in for us.”
“No one has it in for you, Sammy.” Anne began to pace back and forth in front of her brother. “I’m the one people are trying to kill.”
“And I told you, I really don’t think Pop is the one who’s out to get you.”
She stopped. He sounded so certain. And part of her wanted more than anything to believe that her father did not want her dead. “Then who is after me?”
“I can’t answer that. But maybe the feds think you’re a risk and they’ve decided it would be an easy out to kill you and make your death look like a mob hit.”
“Sammy, that’s crazy! The government has gone to a lot of trouble to put me in the Witness Security Program and keep me safe. Why kill me now?”
“Since when do the things the government does make sense?” He turned to Jake. “But don’t you think it’s suspicious how he showed up in your life again just about the time all these attacks started happening?”
Anne wrapped her arms around herself to ward off
a sudden chill. What Sammy was saying was preposterous. Jake had no reason to want to harm her. The timing of his arrival and the attacks on her was just coincidence. But Patrick had tried to warn her about him, too.... Her eyes met his, and she saw the challenge there. Would she believe her brother, or her former lover?
“How do you know the attacks on your sister started when I arrived?” Jake asked.
“I’m sure she mentioned it,” he said.
“But I didn’t,” Anne said.
“You did,” Sammy said. “How else would I have known?”
How else, indeed? “What else do you know about the attempts on my life?” she asked.
“Nothing. Pop only tells me things he thinks I need to know, which is almost nothing.”
“But you said your father wasn’t behind these attempts to kill your sister,” Jake said.
Sammy squirmed, and Anne was reminded of a time when he was nine, and had been caught stealing change from their father’s desk. “I’m punishing you because you took the money,” her father had said, as he removed his belt and prepared to give Sammy a whipping. “But I’m throwing in a few extra licks because you need to learn to be a better liar.” Family values, Giardino style.
“I don’t think Pop wants Elizabeth dead,” Sammy said. “That’s all I know.”
“We’re not getting anywhere with this.” Jake turned to Anne. “Tell your brother to leave. We never should have bothered him.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.” Sammy stood. “But I think before you go in with guns blazing, you should come and talk to Pop. Make your peace with him. When you see he’s no threat to you, you’ll have no reason to turn him in.”
Except for the fact that he was a killer who’d broken the law, she thought, but she didn’t dare say the words out loud.
“That’s the worst idea I’ve heard all year,” Jake said. “Once she goes to her father, he’ll have her. It’s like asking her to volunteer to show up at her execution.”
“I told you he won’t hurt her. Are you calling me a liar?”
The two men glared at each other, two bulldogs arguing over a bone. But ultimately, this was her decision to make, wasn’t it? “If I did go and talk to Sam—Pop—could you guarantee my safety...and Jake’s?”
“You’ll be safe. I’d be a fool to make any promises where Jake’s concerned.”
“Fine. Then I’ll go by myself.”
“No, you won’t,” Jake said.
“I have to do this, don’t you see? I have to find out how my father really feels about me.”
“He could kill you.”
“I believe Sammy. He has no reason to lie to me.”
“I can think of half a dozen reasons,” Jake said.
“Watch it.” Sammy moved toward them.
“Stop it! Both of you.” She turned to Sammy. “Can you set up a meeting? Soon?”
He nodded. “I can send a car for you tomorrow.”
“Give us the address and we’ll come in our own car,” Jake said.
Sammy shook his head. “And risk you tipping off the feds? No way. I’ll send a car. And Elizabeth comes alone—without you or anybody else. And if we catch anyone tailing our car, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“All right,” Anne answered before Jake could object again. “But Jake will be waiting for me, and if I don’t check in with him every thirty minutes, he’ll contact the U.S. Marshals office.”
“I don’t like it,” Jake said.
“It’s not your decision to make.” To soften her words, she went to him and put one hand on his chest. “This is the only family I have. If I can find a way to make peace with them, I have to risk it.”
He studied her face, as if something there might help him understand. Finally, he nodded. “If you’re going to do this, then I’m going to do what I can to protect you.”
“If you lovebirds are done with your little tête-à-tête, I’ll go now.” Sammy moved toward the door. “I’ll call you here at the hotel and let you know what time.”
“Are you going to tell Pop ahead of time that I’m coming?” she asked.
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t pass up the chance to have him thank me for bringing back his favorite child.”
She followed him to the door, Jake close behind them. “I still can’t believe you’d trust a fed,” Sammy said as he stepped into the hall. “Or that he’d trust you.”
“Why wouldn’t I trust her?” Jake asked.
“After the way she betrayed you? If a woman did that to me, I know I wouldn’t be so forgiving.”
“Betrayed me?” Jake sent Anne a puzzled look.
“Sammy, I don’t think—” she began.
He grinned—that horrible, gloating smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You mean he doesn’t know?” He nudged Jake. “Your girlfriend here is the one who gave you up to Pop. She’s the reason you almost died that night.”
Chapter Sixteen
Anne waited until her brother had stepped into the elevator down the hall before she shut and locked the door of the hotel room. She could feel Jake’s gaze on her, burning into her back. Her stomach churned and she had trouble taking a deep breath. Sammy was a fine one to talk of betrayal; the obvious delight he took in revealing her secret to Jake wounded her almost as much as her father’s turning his back on her that day in court.
She forced herself to face Jake once more. His expression was grim, lines of strain deepening around his eyes. “Is it true?” he asked. “Did you betray me to your father?”
“Not deliberately. Though, in the end, the result was the same.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his posture rigid. “Tell me,” he said.
How many times over the last year had she revisited that fateful day? How often had she played the depressing game of “what if?” What if she’d never spent that night at Jake’s apartment? What if she’d never said what she had to her father? What if she’d been smarter, or shown more discretion, or at least hadn’t been so trusting...
“Do you remember when I spent the night at your place, two days before the party where you were shot?” she asked.
“Yes.” His voice were clipped, his expression wary.
“Then you remember how you went downstairs to get takeout from the deli on your building’s ground floor.” She forced herself to continue. “I stayed behind to wait.”
“You didn’t want to get up and get dressed,” he said. “So you waited for me in bed. Naked.”
She shivered, as if chill air had just crossed her bare skin, though the room was warm, and the look he gave her heated, despite the anger she sensed that lay just beneath the surface. “I decided to fix us a drink, so I got up and went into the kitchen. I found a bottle of wine that looked good, so I started looking through drawers for the corkscrew.”
“And you found something besides the corkscrew,” he said.
“Yes.” She met his gaze, silently pleading for understanding. “I found a mini digital recorder. I didn’t play the recording or anything—I really didn’t even think anything of it. I put it back in the drawer and kept searching until I located the corkscrew and opened the wine.”
“And then I came back with dinner and we continued our evening together.”
“Yes.” They’d drunk the wine and eaten salad and calzones and made love until they were both sore and sated. She closed her eyes against the images her mind insisted on replaying—of Jake, naked and reaching for her, a look of such tenderness and passion in his eyes it still left her trembling.
“I don’t understand what this has to do with your supposed betrayal,” he said.
She opened her eyes again. “The next day, I was in my father’s office at our apartment. I was looking for a stamp to mail a thank-you note and he was com
plaining that the tape system he used to record all his phone calls was malfunctioning again. I told him he ought to get one of those mini digital recorders. It would take up so much less space and he wouldn’t have to mess with tapes. He wasn’t very tech savvy, and he didn’t know what I was talking about, so I told him you had one—that you’d probably be glad to show him. It was small enough to put in your pocket and no one would ever even know it was there.”
“And that made him wonder why I had a recorder that could be hidden so easily.”
“Later, he came to me and started asking more questions—about what you did when you weren’t with me, who your friends were, what else I’d seen at your apartment. I was confused, but I thought he was just being the typical overprotective father. I told him what I knew, but I truly didn’t think anything of it. When I asked him why he was so interested, he told me not to worry, that he would take care of everything.”
“Meaning, he would take care of me.”
“If I’d had any idea what he was planning, I would have warned you, I swear. I never thought—” Her voice broke and she covered her face with her hands, reliving the horror of Jake bleeding to death in her arms. “I’m so sorry. When I think if all you suffered because of my foolishness...”
He closed the distance between them and put his arm around her shoulders. “I believe you,” he said softly. “You never meant for me to be hurt. For both of us to be hurt.”
She curled into him, her face pressed into the hollow of his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she breathed in his scent—cotton and fabric softener, and the aroma of clean male skin that was uniquely him. It was the scent she associated with strength and safety and long nights of lovemaking.
“The worst days in the hospital, I would distract myself from the pain by trying to remember every detail of that evening—how you looked, what you said, the way you felt.” He took her hand in his and trailed his thumb across her knuckles, tracing the ridges and valleys, his touch light but sending a jolt of awareness through every nerve.
A fierce desire stabbed her, a need to feel him around her and in her, affirming life in the most elemental way she knew. She raised her head and found his gaze fixed on her, his eyes reflecting the same wanting she felt. “Make love to me,” she whispered.