Conti’s hands spread wide in mild surrender and J.D. realized he had one hand on the dog and the other hand behind his back on the butt of his gun.
“You can call off both your dogs,” Francis said, watching J.D. from the corner of his eye.
“We’re looking for our little girl,” his wife said. “I’m Carmen Conti and this is my husband, Frank. Our oldest daughter told us that Christina might be here.”
“Of course,” Sam said. Her gaze flickered to J.D.’s and she stepped out onto the porch. “We can talk out here. We have some kids sleeping inside.”
Well, he thought, at least she wasn’t a total fool.
“Could you take Daisy to my office?” Sam asked J.D., and he shot her an incredulous look. As if he was going to leave her alone with a murderer. “You are making things worse,” she whispered as the Contis watched them.
The guy was like a black cancer, all wrong in a place so good. It was the way he’d always felt about himself. Like the man he was, really was, shouldn’t be in a place like this. It wasn’t right. And seeing this thug, his black leather coat gleaming like an oil slick, J.D. knew he was right.
But J.D. could see that he and Daisy, growling low in her throat, were indeed making things worse. And worse wasn’t what anyone needed.
So he ran the dog to the office and practically threw her in. The dog’s claws scrambled against the cracked linoleum and finally gained purchase. She shifted her massive weight and went charging back for the door, but J.D. slammed it shut and headed out through the common room to the front lawn.
He was going to kill Greg, that’s for sure. Calling him ten minutes before Conti showed up? What kind of warning was that? If J.D. had had a half hour, he would have been able to get Sam and the kid out of here. Well, maybe not, given Sam’s foolish resolve, but he would have had a chance.
“Can I get you anything?” Sam asked, practically glowing in the early morning sunlight.
“We’re fine,” Conti snapped and J.D. wanted to take the guy’s eyes out for using that tone with Sam. “We’re just looking for our Tina.”
Carmen held out a photo and Sam took it, glancing at it with a smile.
“Your daughter was here,” Sam said and Mrs. Conti put a hand out, bracing herself on her husband.
“Oh, thank God,” she breathed, crossing herself.
“What do you mean, was?” Francis asked, his eyebrows snapping together.
Sam licked her lips and J.D. kept an eye on Conti’s right hand, ready for anything. Ready for the worst.
“She showed up on Friday afternoon.” Sam conducted herself like a businesswoman despite wearing a robe and being barefoot. “She said her name was Jane Doe and that she was twenty-one.”
“Was she still pregnant?” Carmen asked.
Sam nodded. “She is still pregnant.”
Again, Carmen crossed herself, tears rolling down her face.
J.D. saw the edge of a black bruise under her sunglasses and his gut went colder.
“We got her a doctor’s appointment and the baby is healthy. Christina is, too. A little too thin, but the doctor said she was carrying the baby just fine.”
“What do you mean, was here?” Francis asked again, his voice harder, his tone uglier. J.D. stepped in closer, letting the guy know that just because the dog was gone, didn’t mean there wasn’t a guard.
“When we woke up this morning she was gone,” Sam said and held out the note and the ring. “She left these.”
Carmen’s hands shook as she took the objects from Sam’s hands. Francis started pacing, muttering under his breath, throwing off anger like a cold wind.
J.D. took deep breaths, trying not to add to the tension. Conti was the worst kind of loose cannon and J.D. did not want to give the lunatic a reason to take out all that barely controlled rage on Sam or the shelter.
“So you…do you know where she is?” Carmen asked.
Sam shook her head. “I don’t—”
“What kind of place is this?” Conti snapped. “You let a sixteen-year-old pregnant girl come and go in the middle of the night?”
“I need you to calm down,” J.D. said, stepping between Sam and Francis.
“This isn’t any of your business,” Conti said, menace rolling off him in waves. He put his hands on his hips, fanning his jacket out, showing off the butt of the gun tucked into his pants. His eyes were wild and he was looking for an excuse to bust something up.
“Francis,” Carmen said.
“Shut up, Carm.” Francis leaned around J.D. and pointed a finger at his wife. “We’ve done this whole thing your way. We’ve given the stupid girl time to come to her senses and we’ve treated her like an adult. And look where it’s gotten us.” He held out his hands, his laugh ridiculing. “Some crappy women’s shelter in the middle of nowhere. And we still don’t have her. If we’d—”
“Perhaps it’s time you and I stepped away,” J.D. said, his voice quiet, but strong as a punch and Conti’s head snapped back to him.
“Who the hell are you?” Conti said, measuring him.
“I’m here to make sure you don’t make a tough situation worse,” J.D. said.
“Worse?” Conti spat, his eyes boring into J.D.’s. and J.D. braced himself. It was only a matter of time. “Wait a second.” Conti blinked. “I know you, don’t I?”
“I’m J. D. Kronos,” he said.
Conti’s eyes split wide and his mouth fell open. “What the hell? The butcher’s boy?”
J.D. tightened his jaw and didn’t say anything.
Conti started laughing and the sound of it was so close to the sound of his father’s mean laugh that something in his belly trembled. Something angry and scared at the same time.
“He’s a friend,” Sam interjected, fiercely like Daisy at the door.
“You need better friends,” Conti said. “Do you know what this guy did to his own father?” J.D. stepped forward intending to haul the man away so he could wipe that grin off the guy’s face. Conti must have read his intentions because his body tensed. His eyes got hard.
“Where’s your bat?” Conti asked, his chin out just begging for a left hook that would drop him.
“We’re getting off topic,” Sam said, stepping between them. J.D. reached out and pulled her away from Conti.
The guy’s black eyes tracked the movement, saw everything. He smiled and all the man’s evil filled the air like smoke.
“Don’t like her near me, huh?” he asked. “It’s not like you’re any different. You look just like your dad, you know. And that guy was always ready for a fight, too.”
J.D. felt the poison, the poison of his father’s temper seep into him. He wanted to kill this guy. His hands were fists and he was ready to show Conti just how much of the butcher pounded through his veins.
“J.D.?” Spence’s voice shook from the open front door and J.D. felt the world stop spinning.
Oh, God. Spence stood there, one sock missing, his hair a mess.
How many times had J.D. watched his father charge across a room to beat some guy senseless? How many times had he heard his father arguing with someone only to listen to it all end in screams and the sickening thuds of fists hitting soft tissue?
Here he was about to do the same thing. In front of his boy.
J.D. was no different. None. The proof was right here. Bringing violence into Serenity? In front of his son?
What is wrong with me? he wondered, sick to his stomach.
“What’s going on?” Spence asked.
“Nothing, Spence.” Sam was over at the boy before J.D. could get his bearings. Conti’s eyes looked at the boy then glanced up at him.
“Those eyes are familiar,” he said, knowing and mocking.
J.D. leaned forward, unable to control himself. “Don’t even look at him,” he whispered. “Or I’ll take your eyes out.”
“Francis!” Carmen cried.
“Shut up, Carmen. I swear to God—” Francis stepped toward Carmen and J.D. put him
self in the way, stopping Conti like a brick wall. Conti’s lips curled and his hands fisted and, even though J.D. knew Spence was watching, maybe because Spence was watching and he was so damn scared, J.D. grabbed the guy’s jacket.
“Take a breath, Frank,” he whispered.
“Gentlemen, please.” Sam’s voice rang out like a gunshot. “I will call the police.”
The moment stretched, the panic in him grew until finally Frank blinked, his evil brown eyes regaining a little sanity. He held up his hands, stepped away and J.D. did the same thing. The cops wouldn’t be good for anyone. Both men turned to Sam; her anger was palpable and frankly, considering the situation, shaming.
His son was watching. Their daughter was missing.
J.D. stepped away, farther and farther until he wasn’t a part of the scene. His back was close to the house and he wished he could step right out off the earth.
Right out of his own skin.
Sam whispered something to Spence and tried to send him inside, but he shook his head, clinging to her hand. Sam shot J.D. a pleading look, begging him to help her. To take the boy inside.
His gut screamed no. Conti was still half-cocked and unpredictable.
“Take care of your son,” Frank Conti said, his voice measured. Calm.
J.D. walked up to Spence. He held out his hand and the boy flinched, fear turning his skin white. His lips blue.
Spence was scared of him.
J.D. crouched, getting as close as the kid seemed to want to let him. “I won’t hurt you,” J.D. whispered, feeling as if he’d aged a million years in the past ten minutes.
“You were going to hit that guy,” Spence whispered and J.D. wished he could deny it. Wished he could have saved the kid having to see that. But it would have been a lie. He was who he was, no more running from it. Even at Serenity eventually his blood ran true.
“He’s not a very nice guy,” J.D. murmured.
“My dad said you should never hit anyone, ever. No matter how mean. Hitting people never makes anything better.”
J.D. scrubbed at his face, pushing his hands through his hair. “Your dad was a smart guy,” he said and looked at the boy, knowing it was over. Knowing the boy would never trust him again, nor should he. “Do you want to go upstairs now?”
Spence watched him, those old eyes freaking him out, seeing way more than any nine-year-old should.
“I can go by myself,” Spence said, turning and walking up the stairs alone, leaving J.D. shattered.
Broken.
“I don’t know where your daughter has gone,” Sam said, trying to pull her attention away from the whispered conversation J.D. and Spence were having. “But I am fairly sure she’s with her boyfriend.”
“That little shit?” Francis scowled and Carmen looked heavenward. Sam really wished the woman would take off those sunglasses—she had a bad feeling about what was being hidden behind those dark lenses.
“They can’t be far,” Sam said. “They left sometime late last night or early this morning.”
“I’ll find her,” J.D. said, stepping close. “I can have her back to you by the end of the day.”
“What?” she whispered. She was not entirely sure Christina was better off with her parents. Her father looked all too ready to beat the girl, as he probably had his wife. “Shouldn’t we contact the authorities?”
“No need,” J.D. said without looking at her, his eyes instead riveted to the vulturelike stare of Conti. “We don’t want the authorities involved in this, do we?”
Conti’s eye narrowed and he shook his head. “No,” he said carefully. “We don’t.”
“Good. I can find her,” J.D. said. “For a fee.”
Conti laughed. “Well, it looks like you took up a different branch of the family business. Wouldn’t Milo be proud.”
“Do you want your daughter or not?” J.D. said, and Sam reached out to stall him, but he jerked away from her hand.
Sam stared at him, stunned. What was going on?
“Carmen.” Conti held out his hand without ever looking at his wife. “Give me that ring.”
Carmen’s hands shook as she handed over the diamond.
“This should cover any costs,” Conti said.
Sam watched, stunned and sick to her stomach as J.D. appraised the ring and dropped it in his pocket. “Do you have a number I can reach you?”
“What are you doing?” Sam asked, but J.D. ignored her.
“Yes,” Conti said and again he held out a hand to his wife. “You have paper and a pencil in that suitcase you carry?” he asked and she fumbled through her bag.
The sunglasses slipped and the bruise around Carmen’s eye was clearly visible. Oh, God. Oh, God. What was happening here?
Conti wrote down some numbers and handed the paper to J.D., holding on to J.D.’s hand a moment longer than necessary. “Don’t blow this,” he said, all kinds of threat in his voice. “Not like that little collection job twenty years ago.” Conti tapped a finger against his temple. “I don’t forget anything.”
“Me, neither,” J.D. said. “Don’t worry. Go on home. I’ll be in touch.”
Sam felt as if she watched it all through a thick pane of glass, but when Carmen finally turned for the big black SUV at the curb she snapped to attention.
“Carmen,” she called out and the blonde paused. “Are you okay?” Frank and J.D.’s eyes both swiveled to her and she fought her fear.
“Jesus Christ, Sam,” J.D. muttered. “Shut up.”
Sam ignored him. “Do you need help?” she asked and Carmen looked at her hands for a moment and then at her husband.
“I’m fine,” she said and walked toward the car.
After a moment, Francis followed his wife. His oily gaze flickered to Sam, taking in her robe and bare feet and Sam had never felt so naked in her life. Nearly defiled.
“Nice cooz,” he murmured to J.D. and she felt J.D.’s whole body tense, like he was about to spring. So Sam stepped in front of him, protecting the bastard with her body.
Once their shadows were off her stoop, she stepped back inside, waiting for J.D. to join her.
She slammed the door and whirled on him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she cried.
“My job,” he said, turning and heading for the shelter’s bedrooms.
“Did you think maybe we should’ve talked about the situation before you decided to deliver a pregnant sixteen-year-old girl to her abusive father.”
“No,” he said, not even looking at her. “I didn’t.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked, absolutely unable to believe he would hand over that girl to her father.
“What I am being paid to do,” he said, crossing the threshold into his room. He tore off his shirt and dug out a clean one from the bag on the bed.
“Please, J.D. You aren’t this man. We need to talk. I need to talk to Christina before she goes home. I need to assess if this is the right move.”
“It’s not really your call,” J.D. said. He sat on the bed and tugged on socks, jamming his feet into his boots.
“I don’t understand what’s happening here,” she said, stunned, watching him like he was a movie or something. Something not real. Not connected to her.
“It’s pretty simple, Sam. I am doing my job,” he barked. “I take jobs and money and in return I do whatever people want me to. I find daughters. I catch cheating wives. I take pictures. Video. I provide all the proof anyone could ever need that people are lying animals.”
Sam rocked back for a second, suddenly aware that there were too many things at work. Too many people in the room.
His face scared her. Not that he was angry, or close to violence as he had been earlier.
He was blank. Emotionless.
And that scared her to death.
“Who am I dealing with right now?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her waist. “J.D.? The man who made love to me last night? The man who taught his son how to swing on
a rope? Or Jakos Diavoletes? The butcher’s son.”
“There’s only been me,” he told her. “The lovemaking and rope swing garbage was a lie.”
“What?”
“For ten years, every time I walked into this house, I pretended to be someone I wasn’t. Last night. Yesterday. The first time we made love. All of it was fake. None of it was me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t believe me?” he asked, emotion sparking in his eyes. “What more proof do you need, Sam? I almost beat that man bloody outside your shelter. I would have killed him if I had to.”
“You were provoked,” she said, shaking her head. He was slipping into someplace dark and she didn’t think she could reach him. “You said you would keep me safe,” she said. “That’s what you were doing.”
“Spence was scared of me. He didn’t want me to go upstairs with him,” he said brutally.
“He’s a little boy,” she said, knowing how much that must have hurt J.D. “He doesn’t know what he saw. He was scared.”
“Listen to yourself,” he said, his eyes filled with scorn. “Are you that desperate that you’ll forgive anything?”
Oh, he was pushing her. Trying to hurt her. Trying to get her to walk away, to throw him out because he thought that’s what he deserved.
It was now or never. She felt the past and the future and all possible options for her life converge right here. Right now. Her courage surged inside of her, combined with her love for him. Her respect for all that he survived. All that he was and could be.
“Maybe everything away from me and away from Serenity was the lie,” she said. “Maybe the man who made love to me and taught his kid how to swing on a rope and brought me a guard dog is the real you,” she whispered and he went still as if he was absorbing every word, and hope surged in her chest.
“I love you,” she said.
The moment swelled, filled the room, pushed against her chest, her burning eyes. “I always have and I always will,” she said, when he didn’t say anything. Finally he looked up at her and her hope floundered. His eyes were unreadable, unfamiliar. His face a closed book. Panic lanced her courage, but she didn’t look away. She didn’t give up on this moment. On this man.
The Story Of Us: A Secret Baby Romance (Serenity House Book 1) Page 16