by CINDI MEYERS
“I meant it when I said I could never kill you,” Sam said. “But Jake West is someone I would gladly kill—and I will, if I see him.”
“Even if killing him hurts me?” she asked. Would she be able to live with herself if her father murdered Jake? Thinking about the possibility made it difficult to breathe.
“You’d be better off without a lying fed in your life,” her father said with a sneer.
She swallowed hard. “I still need to call him, to let him know I’m okay.”
Her father frowned, but said nothing, so she took out her phone and punched in Jake’s number. After five rings, the call went to voice mail. “Leave a message,” came the clipped recording in Jake’s voice.
“This is Anne. I’m just checking in.”
“You go by Anne now?” Her father gave her a curious look.
“Just...sometimes,” she hedged. In the back of her mind, she could hear parts of Patrick’s lecture on compromising her identity. But after today she’d have to start over again anyway, wouldn’t she? Even if her father wasn’t behind the recent attacks, someone was, and her luck against that unknown assailant wouldn’t hold out forever. She’d have to question her father more later about who he thought might be after her.
A gong rang somewhere toward the back of the house. Her father took her hand. “It’s time to eat,” he said.
He led her to the dining room, another sunny space that looked out over the valley and the side of the estate. A long table, set with crystal and china, filled the center of the room. Sam took his seat at the head of the table. Anne sat on her father’s right, across from an attractive, thirtysomething woman with long dark hair worn in a chignon, and the lithe body of a model or dancer. “This is Veronica. Veronica, this is my daughter, Elizabeth,” her father said.
Anne nodded at what was probably her father’s latest mistress. He’d had half a dozen such women in his life since her mother’s death years before. They were all cast from the same mold—beautiful, classy and quiet. They voiced no opinions of their own and seldom joined in family conversations. When one left, to be replaced by a similar model, the rest of the family scarcely noticed.
Sammy occupied the other end of the table, with Stacy on his right and their son, Carlo, in a booster chair at her side. The boy, who had blond, curly hair and a winning smile that showed twin dimples, smiled shyly at his aunt. “I can’t get over how big he is now,” Anne said, as she made faces at the boy, who giggled in response.
“He just turned three,” Stacy said. “He already recognizes some of the words in the books I read him.”
“To hear Stacy tell it, the kid’s some kind of genius,” Sammy said.
“There’s nothing wrong with being proud of him,” Stacy said. “He is very smart.”
“He’s a three-year-old, not Einstein.”
The diners at the other end of the table ignored the bickering. Anne suspected they were used to it.
“Levi, open a bottle of champagne,” Sam directed one of the guards by the door. “We should celebrate.”
Levi did as asked, and passed full glasses of the bubbly. Sam stood at the head of the table and held his glass aloft. “To Elizabeth.”
“To Elizabeth,” the company echoed.
Anne cautiously sipped the bubbly. After so many months abstaining, she didn’t want to end up light-headed.
Lunch was grilled steak and roast potatoes, salad and asparagus and a lemon cake for dessert. “You’re not eating much,” her father observed after a while. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s all delicious,” she said. “But I’m watching my weight.” The truth was, her stomach was in knots. Why hadn’t Jake answered his phone before? Had her father or brother sent someone after him as soon as she was out of the way? Or was he in some other kind of trouble? And was her father really going to let her walk away from here today, back to Jake and her life separate from the Giardino family?
She decided as soon as she could steal a moment alone, she’d call Patrick. She shouldn’t have come here without telling him first, even though Jake had agreed to contact the Marshal when it was time to make the arrest. Patrick wouldn’t have liked their plan and would have tried to stop her, but he had the manpower to protect her—and to protect Jake.
She turned to ask her father if he’d enjoyed skiing in Telluride, but his attention was focused on a car making its way up the drive to the house. “Who is that?” Anne asked.
“No one you need to be concerned about.” Sam turned to the guard behind his chair. “Show our guest into my office,” he said.
Anne pretended to focus on the food, but she watched the entrance to the dining room out of the corner of her eye. She could just see the front door from here. After a few moments, the door opened, and a white-haired man was ushered in. Was this the same man she’d seen at the gondola yesterday? The one Jake had identified as Senator Nordley? Had Jake been right that he was the one who’d engineered her father’s escape? And was he here now to collect his payment?
* * *
PARTWAY DOWN the rock face, Jake realized he was probably clearly visible to anyone looking up from the back of the house. A bright blue jacket was not very good camouflage. He’d originally thought he could climb down quickly enough that being spotted wasn’t much of a concern, but the rough terrain made the descent agonizingly slow. He spent most of his time clinging to the side of the mountain, plastered against the snow, freezing, his fingers aching as he clung to the barest projection of rock, praying he wouldn’t slip and fall to his death. A lot of help he’d be to Anne then.
He’d missed her second check-in call. The one opportunity he’d had to pull out his phone, it had reported No Service. They’d discussed what he’d do if she failed to contact him, but had made no plans in the event that he didn’t respond.
She was a smart woman, and not prone to hysterics. She’d be all right. He thought he would have heard gunfire, even at this height, if there’d been any trouble below. Of course, a small-caliber weapon with a silencer was another story.... He pushed the thought away and focused on inching farther down the slope. This next section of the climb was covered in deep snow, making it difficult to plan stable footing.
He stopped to rest, and to review his plans once he reached the house. He’d find cover, preferably with a view into the house, and try to locate Anne. If she was all right, he’d simply observe until she left safely, and he’d somehow make his way around to the road and back to the car. That was the most optimistic scenario, but not the most likely.
The most likely scenario was that there’d be trouble, probably when Anne tried to leave. Though her brother had promised a happy reunion and safe passage, Jake couldn’t believe Sam Giardino would give anyone who had betrayed him once—even his daughter—the opportunity to do so again. He might not kill Anne, but he’d make her his prisoner, and Jake would be the only one who could save her.
His determination renewed by this thought, he resumed his descent, pushing himself to move faster, to be bolder. He had no time to waste. If the Giardinos decided to move Anne to another location, he might lose her again, a chance he didn’t want to take.
Clinging to a rock handhold, he lowered himself onto a narrow ledge and checked his progress. He’d made it almost halfway. The house, a sprawling assemblage of glass and gray rock, looked much larger from this angle. If Jake moved faster, he could be to the wall directly behind the structure in another half hour or so. Encouraged, he positioned himself for his next step down.
The ledge gave way beneath him and he began to slide. He scrambled for a handhold in the rock, but found only loose dirt and ice. Snow filled his mouth and nose, and jagged rock tore at his clothes as he gained momentum, sliding and bouncing down the steep slope, unable to stop his fall.
Chapter Nineteen
The meal finally ended
with coffee and brandy. Sammy had switched to scotch, despite the fact that it was only twelve-thirty. “I have to go the ladies’ room,” Anne said as they stood to leave the table. It was true, but she also hoped to use the opportunity to try Jake’s phone again, and to call Patrick.
“Show her where it is, Stacy,” Sam said.
Stacy, who was cleaning Carlo’s hands and face, looked annoyed, but she handed the boy to Veronica and motioned for Anne to follow. Sammy grabbed his sister’s arm as she passed. “Give me your phone,” he said.
“No!” She tried to pull away from him.
“We can’t have you sneaking off to call someone you shouldn’t. Now, hand it over.”
“Let go of me.” She kicked him hard in the shin. He grunted and lashed out, catching her on the side of the face.
Levi moved to intervene, pulling Sammy away. Anne glared at him, and straightened her clothes. Her father came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. “You know I don’t hold with manhandling women,” he said. “But Elizabeth, I do need you to hand over your phone.”
“If I don’t check in with Jake, he’ll send someone after me,” she said.
“I’m sure we can deal with anyone who tries to get too close,” Sam said. “You may have noticed when you drove in that this place is well-positioned for defense.”
She’d counted six guards on the way in; there were probably twice that many out of sight, patrolling the grounds. They’d be well armed and well-trained, a private army sworn to defend her father from anyone he perceived as an enemy. Why had she and Jake ever assumed that Patrick had the forces at his disposal to take this place? Even if he could assemble a large enough force, he couldn’t move in without risking the lives of innocent—or mostly innocent—women and children.
“Your phone.” Sam held out his hand.
She surrendered the phone, then followed Stacy to the ladies’ room. To her surprise, the other woman followed her inside. “Are you supposed to guard me?” Anne asked.
“I wanted to talk to you.” Stacy glanced over her shoulder. “Alone.”
“About what?”
“Why did you come back here?” Stacy asked, keeping her voice low.
“I wanted to see my father. And I wanted to find out who has been trying to kill me. Sammy says it isn’t my father, and I think I believe him.”
“I don’t know anything about that, but you’ve stepped into the middle of a war zone. Your father and Sammy are at each other’s throats all the time. I’m sure they’re going to kill each other.”
“Sammy’s always had a temper, but he isn’t stupid,” Anne said.
“I used to think that, too, but now I’m not so sure. If I could get out of here with my son, I would. You were a fool to come back.”
On that note, she turned and left, slamming the door behind her.
Anne used the bathroom, washed her hands and stepped out into the hall once more. Levi was waiting for her. “I’ll take you back to your father, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. He spoke in the tone of some staid family retainer. If she closed her eyes, she might imagine he was a butler or footman from a fine home at the turn of the last century.
But when she opened her eyes, his muscular build and the shoulder holster he wore in plain view would give away his true role. And to think she’d grown up accepting this as a perfectly normal way to live.
He led her, not to the great room where they’d been before lunch, but to a smaller side room that served as a study or library. Her father sat in a leather chair before a fireplace lit by a gas log, and motioned for her to sit across from him. “Is this your office?” she asked, remembering he’d instructed the guards to have his guest wait there.
“No.”
“Don’t you need to deal with your visitor?” she said. “I can wait.”
“Don’t worry about things that don’t concern you.”
How many times growing up had she heard those exact words? Strangers coming to the house, phone calls in the middle of the night, the need to suddenly relocate for a few weeks or months—these were all deemed matters that were none of her business. The women in the family, including Elizabeth, were supposed to keep quiet, obey and never ask too many questions. She couldn’t believe she’d accepted this role for so long, though, as her father’s clear favorite, she’d been allowed more leeway than anyone else. Would he accept the same degree of rebellion from her now?
“Elizabeth, tell me what you’ve been up to,” he said.
She smoothed her hands across her thighs, and chose her words carefully. “I’ve been fine,” she said. “Staying busy.” She wouldn’t tell him she’d been living in a small town and teaching school; he’d think such things beneath her. All her life she’d heard how she wasn’t like “working people.” He might even become angry if she told him she’d become one of that despised lot.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said before,” he said. “About someone trying to kill you. I wonder if one of my enemies sent this DiCello fellow after you as a way of getting to me. Perhaps he wanted to frame me.”
“Can you think of someone who would do that?” she asked.
A ghost of a smile played about his lips. “I have many enemies, but I can’t think of one in particular who would take that convoluted approach to revenge. Or maybe DiCello knew about my outburst in court and thought he could impress me and work his way back into my good graces by doing me this ‘favor.’”
“I thought you said he left to be closer to his mother and sister.”
Sam waved his hand in dismissal. “We had a bit of a disagreement before he went. I thought his loyalties were too divided.”
“Between you and who?” Who else would one of her father’s men be loyal to?
“He and your brother had become good friends. Sammy thought he had the right to give orders to one of my people. I had to set him straight.”
She winced inwardly. She was sure Sammy wouldn’t have enjoyed that particular “lesson,” which probably involved humiliating him in front of the men.
“Did you say this attack in your home wasn’t the only one?” Sam prompted.
“After DiCello died there were two more attempts on my life,” she said. “The fire in the cabin, and the car that tried to run us off the road.”
“Two of my men disappeared last week, along with one of our cars,” her father said. “I’ve been too busy with other matters to trace them, but I wonder if there’s a connection.” He leaned forward and patted her hand. “Let me check into it and see what I can find out.”
Silence stretched between them while her father stared into the fire and Anne wondered how she was going to get away from here. “Would you please return my phone?” she asked.
“I’ll get you a new one,” he said. “One of ours.” Meaning a phone on which he could monitor the calls, she knew.
“It’s been wonderful seeing you again,” she said, making her voice as gentle as possible.
“It’s wonderful to have you back.” He took her hand between both of his.
“I hope I’ll see you again soon,” she said. “But I can’t stay.”
“I’ll send someone to your hotel for the rest of your things,” he said. “Until then, I’m sure Stacy has clothes you can borrow if you need anything.”
“Dad, I have to go.” She pulled her hand from his and stood.
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” he father said. “Not now that you’re back where you belong.”
She backed toward the door, knowing there were guards there to stop her, but determined to try. She wouldn’t quietly surrender to being made a prisoner. She would fight, and she wouldn’t stop fighting.
A heavy hand on her shoulder stopped her. “You always thought you could get your way, didn’t you?”
She smelled the scotch
on her brother’s breath before she turned to look at him. “Perfect Elizabeth,” he sneered. “The child who could do no wrong. But you’ve done nothing but wrong lately. Starting with bringing a federal agent home and into your bed. You sold out your family for the sake of lust. Does that make you proud?”
“I won’t have you talking to your sister that way,” Sam said. “She’s made some mistakes, but now she realizes she was wrong—”
“She doesn’t realize anything. You didn’t see them, Pop, I did. Her and that fed, two cozy lovebirds, plotting to hand you over to the authorities. As soon as she walks out of here, the agents will swoop in and lock you in handcuffs.” He moved to stand between her and his father. “Don’t you see, she’s just here to betray you again. She’s not your perfect little girl. She’s a viper who wants to destroy you.”
Sam stared at her. “Is that true?” he asked. “Did you really come here to betray me?”
“No! I wanted to see you. And to find out who was trying to kill me and...” And to help Jake and Patrick arrest him again. To him, that was betrayal. To her, it was justice, but in this case they meant the same things.
“I already told you, I had nothing to do with those attempts on your life,” he said. “You’re my daughter, and you always will be.”
“It would be better for all of us if you were dead,” Sammy said. “I should have gone after Jake from the beginning. With him out of the way, you never would have survived the fire, or the drive to Telluride.”
Anne stared at him, stunned and sick to her stomach. How could her brother, whom she’d loved, speak such hate-filled words? “Are you saying you were the one who was after me?” she asked.
“Samuel, what is the meaning of this?” her father demanded.
“I was doing it for you, Pop,” Sammy said. “She didn’t deserve to live after what she did to you. And with her finally out of the way, we could move on. You’d stop worrying about her and focus on me.”