“I should ask you the same question. You’ve been trying to track me down for months. I expected a bit more hospitality for making myself available to you.”
“You could’ve done that a year ago when I first contacted your office.” Caleb looked over his shoulder in time to see Samantha snag Amanda’s arm and drag her towards the ladies room. Joe smirked and followed behind. If they stayed in there too long, Joe wouldn’t think twice about barging in.
“I’m a busy man, Mr. Martin, as I’m sure my assistant informed you.”
“Repeatedly,” Caleb said dryly, his own suspicions developing. “You knew I’d come looking for you tonight.”
Vincent stopped a passing waiter and helped himself to a glass of wine. He swirled the vibrant red liquid before taking a liberal drink. “I simply made sure my attendance was well advertised. The rest was entirely your doing. We have much in common, wouldn’t you agree? Determined men, willing to do anything to achieve our goals.”
Caleb smiled as if he were enjoying a pleasant conversation, when inwardly he seethed at the implication. “You tormented and beat up your wife for sport. I’d say that makes us very different.” A husband should love and protect his wife, cherish and honor the vows spoken. Vows that didn’t include fear and pain.
“Have you ever done anything you’ve regretted?”
Vincent’s thoughtful expression turned his stomach as familiar images burned his brain, a past that would stay with him forever. Vincent didn’t know anything about real regret. He was a schoolyard bully who threw his money and power around to get his way.
“I’d imagine a man like you has plenty to regret. For example, if you’d hired someone to take shots at Samantha. That would be regrettable.”
Vincent downed his remaining wine. “Regrettable, indeed. It would be a shame to lose such a beautiful creature, would it not? With the right hand, she might even learn to control her tongue.”
Her tongue was perfect. Delicious and tempting. Whether she was using it to torment his lust or chastise him for being an ass, every time she opened her mouth, he burned with desire for her.
Caleb didn’t need to hear any more. This man was a viable threat. He’d not stop until he got what he wanted—or until Caleb stopped him. Which meant he needed a new game plan. Still, he issued his warning.
“Hotshot businessman like you understands deals, right? Well, here’s one for you. Leave Samantha alone. Forget you’ve ever heard of her, or you’ll deal with me. And let me assure you, I’m not an enemy you want to make.”
Vincent chuckled. “Not much for negotiations, are you?”
“There’s nothing to negotiate. Back the fuck off. In case you missed it, that’s not a request. Personally, I think you should thank me for being so generous.” Caleb lowered his voice in veiled threat. “It wasn’t my first choice.”
“And I suppose you have some kind of evidence as a basis for your threat?”
Caleb straightened to his full height and took a step forward. “I’m gonna make myself real clear. You wanna play with the big boys, then stay on the path you’ve chosen. Do it, and the sting of your wife leaving your sorry ass will pale in comparison to the pain I’ll leave you with. Trust me when I say that no amount of money can save you if any harm comes to Samantha.”
Vincent’s eyes darkened and he clenched a fist, as if the threat and reminder of losing his wife renewed his anger.
“My, my.” His haughty accent became clipped. “That’s an awfully big threat over one, insignificant female. But, I know that look.” Vincent raised his empty glass in a mock toast. “You’ve fucked the little redhead, haven’t you? Tell me, Mr. Martin, was she worth it? I find very few pussies are. Maybe I’ll have to see for myself what she feels like wrapped around my dick.”
Rage filled him. Before he could stop himself, Caleb fisted the lapels of Vincent’s jacket and jerked him to his toes. “Keep it up, you stupid fuck, and I will end you. If you touch her, if you so much as even brush by her in a crowd, I’ll finish this once and for all. You hear me?”
His beautiful Samantha. The thought of this maggot’s hands so much as attempting to mar the beauty of her skin was enough to push him to the limits of his restraint.
A heavy hand landed on Caleb’s shoulder, stopping him from ripping Vincent’s voice box out through his throat.
“Caleb.” Joe’s voice was stern at his ear. “Everything all right?”
Caleb shrugged him off. “Peachy.”
He held on to Vincent a moment more, letting the man feel the full weight of his fury. His face paled slightly and fear flashed in Vincent’s eyes.
Good. Message received.
“Let him go, Caleb. People are watching,” Joe said.
Shoving Vincent away, Caleb rubbed his palms together. Years of training kept his heart at a steady beat in his chest, but he felt far from calm.
Vincent straightened his jacket with a sharp pull, a satisfied smile pulling at his lips. “This conversation has been quite … enlightening. I trust I haven’t seen the last of you.”
“For your sake, I’d hope you have,” Caleb warned.
Caleb waited until Vincent had slipped out the door and into the gardens before releasing the air from his chest. Emotions he’d never felt before raced through his system, knocked him off balance.
“We’ll get him, don’t worry,” Joe said.
“Damn right, we will.” Caleb’s voice lacked conviction. His instincts fired on all cylinders as the conversation with Vincent replayed in his head. Vincent had been relaxed. Confident. Too confident, as if he knew something Caleb didn’t. What was he missing?
He’d completely botched this night, and for what? He’d gotten face-time with Vincent, but that didn’t mean Samantha was any safer than she’d been before. The only way to know for sure was to let her go and wait to see if Vincent would strike again. The thought that it could be the last strike, the one that took her from him forever, threatened to smother him.
His vision blurred as he pictured her, so full of spunk, so full of life.
She’d been through more than any woman should, yet she’d held on, determined to keep going, stay strong. Those few times she’d let him in, he’d seen her vulnerability, her desire to be loved.
She kept him sharp, on his toes, with her quick wit and independence. He loved the way she laughed when she was nervous and tore his ass up when he’d pissed her off. Most of all, he loved the need that shone in her eyes each time he touched her, as if he was the only man in the world who could give her what she needed.
The thought that she could be taken from him … Caleb shook his head in denial.
He wasn’t prepared for a world without her in it. Suddenly, he didn’t know who he’d be without her.
He’d never been in love before, but he’d seen Joe with his sister. He’d seen the fierce need and desire, Joe’s determination to keep Amanda safe, to make her happy for the rest of her life.
Did he feel that way about Samantha?
Hell, yeah, he did.
But wasn’t the idea of love supposed to be like a lightning bolt? A jolt to the system? Fireworks or some shit like that?
He didn’t feel any different. The realization that he loved Samantha washed over him like a lover’s caress, smooth and soft. As if it had been there all along and he was just catching up.
He was so screwed.
She’d given this thing between them an expiration date. She wouldn’t let go of that idea easily. No. More than likely, she’d believe their forced companionship had caused some sort of emotional response in him.
He’d have to prove to her that he was in this for the long haul.
Time wasn’t on his side. They needed to regroup. Her safety came first. Then, he’d turn his attention to their relationship.
“Fair warning, you’ve got some explaining to do.”
And then there was that.
Caleb didn’t appreciate the humor in Joe’s tone. “You worry about your gir
l, and I’ll worry about mine. Remember?”
Looks like he had his work cut out for him.
* * *
Vincent sat on the secluded bench, cigar smoke permeating the air around him. He looked comfortable, relaxed, not at all concerned about watching his back.
One of his many faults, Mark thought as he approached. The rich, sweet scent of the cigar tickled his nose as he maneuvered around the artful landscape. A scent that had the potential to give their location away.
Mark ground his teeth together. He’d grown tired of the ignorance of others. He’d selected this spot on purpose. They were far enough away to ensure privacy. Evidence of the party beyond this section of the garden could be heard, yet no one had dared venture out into the shadowy pathways. It wasn’t that kind of party.
It was the perfect spot. Unless the scent from Vincent’s cigar brought them some well-intentioned guest looking to share a smoke.
He’d just have to make this quick.
An excited flutter ran through him as the final pieces of his plan fell neatly into place. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this kind of anticipation—since he’d felt anything.
He slid onto the bench next to Vincent. “Did you do as I asked?”
Vincent drew from his cigar, taking his time before allowing a stream of smoke to spill from his lips.
“I did.” A smirk curled his lips. “You were right. There’s definitely something going on between Samantha Quinn and Caleb Martin. The slightest mention of threat to her and he was ready to rip my throat out.”
“He cares for her.” The knowledge, now confirmed, strengthened his resolve.
Investigating the glowing tip of his cigar, Vincent nodded. “Quite a lot, I’d say. She’s skittish, but the feelings appear to be mutual.”
“Excellent,” he murmured, satisfied his instincts had served him well.
“Caleb Martin is a formidable opponent. You’d better know what you’re doing.” Vincent puffed on the cigar, his cheeks hollowing with each draw. “This cat and mouse you play … you’re putting us all at risk. Don’t forget who holds the purse strings here. I’ve funded your little endeavor because of my wife, and to what end?”
Mark bristled at the man’s arrogance. As if Vincent had done him a favor. As if Vincent ever did anything out of the goodness of his heart.
They weren’t so different, he and Vinny-boy. They were both killers, masters of their trades.
Vincent was a ruthless businessman who’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted. He’d fuck another man’s wife, his daughter—occasionally at the same time if the photos Mark had seen were accurate—to ensure cooperation from high level officials. If that didn’t work, he’d call on his old neighborhood chums to join in the fun. Oh yeah, Vinnie had some very interesting friends back in New York.
He’d bankrupt a man, take his business, his home, his life—without so much as a blink. While Vincent may not know the feel of a man’s blood on his hands, his heart was as cold and black as Mark’s.
“The end remains the same,” Mark informed him calmly.
“You should know, I plan to collect my wife and leave the country. I have business interests overseas to tend to and Carly needs a change of scenery. I expect you to honor our arrangement.”
Carly. Vincent’s pet name for Carlotta made her sound like a child. In many ways, she was. Her broken mind and spirit had turned her into a shell of the woman she’d once been. A lifetime of misery and pain could do that to a person.
Even as a child, she’d been too soft for this world. In another place, another time, Mark would’ve tried to protect her. Back before she’d forgotten him, left him to suffer.
“Don’t worry, Vincent. You won’t see me again. You have my word.”
“Regardless, my patience is at an end,” Vincent huffed. “This game you play has grown tiresome. Be done with it.”
For once, Mark was in complete agreement.
“You’re the boss.”
He adjusted his black leather gloves and reached for the customized hunting knife secured at his belt. The gloves prevented him from experiencing the texture of the handle, but he’d had enough experience with such a weapon to know the amount of force he’d need to get the job done.
Mark stood, the feel of the knife in his palm a comfort. He walked behind the bench and clapped a hand on Vincent’s shoulder.
“You really should be more careful about protecting your back.”
Vincent craned his neck around to look at him. Mark moved with silent speed as he clamped a hand over Vincent’s mouth and swung his arm in a wide arc, plunging the knife deep into Vincent’s chest.
Vincent’s eyes widened a moment before impact and his struggle lasted only a moment. Mark held firm as blood seeped through Vincent’s stark white dress shirt, its crimson warmth spreading across the material with slow precision.
Mark watched the life in Vincent’s eyes vanish. Quite the same as Carlotta’s had, just a few hours ago. Only where Vincent’s gaze held betrayal and shock, Carlotta’s had been soft and quiet. She’d accepted her fate with the same grace with which she’d lived her miserable life.
“I never did understand what my sister saw in you.” Mark placed his lips against Vincent’s ear. “Game over, motherfucker.”
Chapter 16
“Everything okay?” Opening the door, Caleb stepped aside to let her go first.
“Is there a reason it shouldn’t be?”
He’d never cared about pissing her off before. She couldn’t fathom why he’d care now.
Vincent had been right and she’d been a fool. Caleb hadn’t suggested they go out because he’d wanted to spend the evening with her. He’d been doing his job—keeping his word to help her. It made perfect sense. She should be grateful. Instead, she felt duped. Disappointed. All the things she’d swore she’d never feel with a man again.
She’d been naive. Allowing herself to live in the fantasy of Caleb these last few days, forgetting who he was and why they were together in the first place.
“You seem upset.”
“Do I?” she snapped.
His lips thinned. “Little bit.”
She tossed her clutch on the counter. “Do you think I’m blind?”
“What?”
“Stupid? Helpless?”
His eyes darkened dangerously. “No. What is this about?”
Un-fucking-believable.
She hit him with a question of her own. “What are you doing about my situation?”
He wrestled the jacket from his shoulders and tossed it across the back of the couch. Samantha bit her tongue as he went about releasing the simple, silver cufflinks that held his shirtsleeves closed. They fell to the counter with a clink. With quick movements, he rolled the sleeves back to reveal tanned, muscled forearms.
His belt came next and her stomach jumped as he released the sleek, stylish buckle. With a resounding whoosh of leather against fabric, he jerked it from the loops in one smooth motion. He let the belt slip through his fingers to fall to the floor as he released a few more buttons on his shirt.
He pulled out a barstool and sat on its edge. He hitched his pants before settling a foot on the lower bar. A smile played at the corners of his lips. “You want to talk about this now?”
Damn, the man was sexy. Watching him undress had been one of the most erotic things Samantha had ever seen. Lust burned across her nerve endings, setting them off one by one, until she wanted nothing more than to shed her own clothes and let him have his way with her. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t solve anything.
“Yeah, Caleb. I think I do. When I told you I’d let you handle things, I didn’t mean I’d tolerate being kept in the dark. How long did you think I’d hide away here without knowing what’s going on?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if she wore on his patience. “I’d like you to trust me.”
She coughed out a laugh at the irony. “Like you trusted me tonight? And please, don’t i
nsult my intelligence by denying it.”
“I never lied to you,” he insisted.
“Well, you sure as hell didn’t tell me the truth. How hard would it have been to give me a heads up? What did you think would happen?”
“Oh, I don’t know, fight me tooth and nail as you’re doing now? Try to get into it with Matteo yourself? Cause a scene?” He blew out a frustrated breath. “You aren’t exactly known for showing restraint, Samantha.” He waved his arm out. “Case in point,” he droned.
Bastard.
A few days ago, he’d have been right. She might have done any one of those things. Or all of them, depending on her mood. What Caleb failed to see is that she had trusted him. For crying out loud, she’d danced with that asshole! She’d let Vincent put his hands on her, when what she’d really wanted to do was knee him in the balls so hard he’d choke on them.
“Did you know Vincent was going to be at the benefit tonight?”
She needed to hear him say it. It wasn’t right to exclude her from plans that directly affected her life. He’d figure it out if and when he decided to pull his head out of his ass.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. He uttered a curse and dragged his hands through his hair. It’s a wonder he wasn’t bald, as much as she’d seen him do that. “We’ve got nothing, Samantha. Do you realize that? Not one goddamned thing to connect him to the shooting, or anything else that’s happened to you.”
Her inner attorney rose to the surface. “It’s still early in the investigation. We don’t have the ballistics report —”
“We don’t have shit!” he surged from the stool and advanced on her. His hands wrapped around her biceps, as if he wanted to shake her. “Don’t you get it, Samantha? How am I supposed to send you out there, back to your life, when at any time … when he’s —”
Caleb closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, struggling with some internal battle she didn’t understand. The gesture was painfully loving, though his grip on her arms had tightened to the point that her fingers tingled. Still, she didn’t want him to let go.
“I had to look him in the eye.” Caleb’s breath was warm against her lips. “I had to see what kind of man we’re dealing with.”
Shadow of Sin (The Martin Family) Page 17