by Kelly Wood
I held Gray’s hand in mine. We’d been linked since the ceremony ended. Snippets of conversation floated up around me.
“...it was beautiful...”
“...nice ceremony...”
“...I love these canapes. What are they?”
“...I want to hit the casino...”
I tugged on Gray’s hand, leading him out into the hallway. I wanted a moment alone with him to just enjoy being his wife. We slipped around a corner, but I stopped short at the sight in front of me.
Passion and Frank were locked in an embrace. Their arms entwined around each other. Lips smacking and sucking noises gave the impression they were about to devour one another right here. Passion wrapped one leg around Frank’s waist trying to climb his body. The bottom of her dress rode dangerously high. I prayed she wore underpants today.
A sound escaped me. Shock. Horror. Embarrassment. I didn’t know. It was probably all three wrapped into one. Gray laughed. Irritation flashed across my face. Right now, I didn’t find this funny at all.
Passion and Frank jumped apart at the sound. Frank straightened his suit and smoothed down his shirt. Passion didn’t bother to try and pretend the kiss was anything innocent. Her blond hair was mussed. Her dress twisted, slightly askew. While Frank looked mildly embarrassed, Passion looked irritated at the interruption. I stood staring with my mouth open, at a loss for words.
“Oh, Regan, good. We wanted to talk to you,” Passion said.
“Did you convey that message to each other through your spit?” I asked.
“Ha, ha.” Passion dragged the two words out, waving her hand in the air. “It was just a little kissing.”
I pulled her a few steps away from Frank and Gray.
“It looked more like devouring.” I glanced back at Frank and lowered my voice. “And, he’s like Dad’s age.”
“He’s not nearly that old. Frank’s handsome, don’t ya think?” Passion gave Frank a little finger wave over my shoulder. “Don’t tell Mom, though. She’d freak.”
“That’s your biggest concern right now? Mom?” I asked.
“No. My biggest concern is Frank.” Passion pulled me back over to Frank and Gray. “We need your help.”
“With what?” Gray asked. Gray’s face still showed his amusement.
“Figuring out what is going on around here,” Passion said.
“So, I can write about it?” I tried to grab at my hair to fling it over my shoulder, but quickly realized I didn’t have any hair left. I tried to hide my dismay by running my fingers over my head. They slipped through the short locks reminding me of my new look. Passion looked at me with ‘I told you so’ eyes.
“I’m not a detective.”
“You’re better than that. You’re the nosiest person I know. And you love a good mystery. Please, Regan, this grand opening is too important to us to be ruined.”
“You’re an ‘us’?” I asked. Passion and Frank exchanged a look. The tenderness in each of their faces made me want to turn away.
“We are,” Frank said, snaking his hand into Passion’s. I glanced at Gray. He shrugged his shoulders in response. I got the message loud and clear. I would nose around anyway because of my article, I might as well have the blessing of the owner. But, I wasn’t willing to give in just yet.
“I’m on my honeymoon,” I said.
“You were here working already. Honeymoon or not, you still have an article to finish,” Passion pointed out.
“An article, yes.” I raised a finger.
“And some snooping. Think about it, Regan.” Passion waved her hands in the air. “No, don’t think. Do. Please, just do it.”
“No. I don’t want to. I want to enjoy my time here,” I countered. I looked around at Frank and Gray. Frank stood behind Passion, his hand planted on her back. Gray stood behind me, not wanting to get involved in the argument between two sisters. I was alone in defending myself against her pleas.
“Regan, you have to! There’s no one else to help us.” Passion grabbed my arm and squeezed. She gave it a shake to emphasize her point.
“The police? Private investigator? Both would be better equipped than me,” I said.
“We can’t trust anyone else,” Passion said, stamping her foot in annoyance.
“Don’t be a drama queen. Now, let go of my arm. I want to enjoy my party.” I tugged against her grip.
“Please, Regan. Please.” The pleading echoed in her ears. I could feel myself losing my will. Passion always got her way. It was the curse of being the youngest.
“You’d owe me,” I said.
“Anything.”
“Don’t say that, Marie. It may come back to bite you.” I blew out a breath. Why was I even thinking of committing to this nonsense? “I don’t even know where to start.”
“You’ll figure it out, sis.” Hope blossomed on Passion’s face.
“I didn’t say yes.” I looked from Passion to Frank. Passion’s face sank in defeat.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gray and I entered the party room, our moment away ruined by Frank and Passion. I scanned the room for my parents. All were busy with conversation. None of them seemed to notice that Passion and Frank were both missing. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when the relationship came to light. Based on Passion’s past antics and my parents’ responses, I’d guess they would just shrug their shoulders. Better to ignore the behavior and hope Passion moved on rather than marrying someone Dad’s age.
Gray’s parents sat in the corner talking to the woman I noticed earlier. Gray’s mother caught my eye and gave me a tiny shake of the head. I was sure us running out was against her decorum. I moved my eyes past her, ignoring the reprimand.
The lights were dimmed and the room glowed with soft light. Our friends and family gathered in small groups talking and laughing. My heart swelled again with the sight of everyone, pushing out the dread I felt at thinking about helping Passion.
“I still can’t believe you made this all happen. It’s amazing.” I looked up at Gray. His happiness was my only concern tonight.
“You’re welcome. Come. Let’s make the rounds and get out of here.” Gray squeezed my hand with urgency.
Waiters passed appetizers while instrumental music played in the background. It created a nice, casual ambiance. On the surface, everyone seemed to get along, but I kept thinking about what everyone else didn’t know. I laughed to myself when Liam, a detective, shared a table with Michael Thomas. I laughed out loud watching my dad talk to Frank. Dad kept his eyes squinted like he was looking at Frank through a filter. There wasn’t much that my dad missed. Frank smiled through the whole exchange, but at the end I could see my dad mutter to himself. I didn’t need to hear him to know what he said. Never trust a man that smiles all the time. They are trying to sell you on something. It was one of the many sayings he told us repeatedly as children. Dad was always full of life advice.
In this case, I’d guess Frank was trying to sell himself. That he was no more than he appeared to be. I could save myself some grief and pass on this assignment to another writer. My breath hitched as I felt the walls closing in on me. This assignment hit too close to home. Did I really need to get wrapped up in the drama? I could just walk away. This officially became my honeymoon as of an hour ago. The editor wouldn’t blame me at all.
My logical side kicked in. It was only a writing assignment. If I focused, I could get it out of the way tomorrow and be done with it. I wasn’t a quitter. I put the notion of walking away out of my mind. No more work thoughts for tonight. I squeezed Gray’s hand and continued searching the room.
Jax, my best friend, and Liam, her latest boyfriend, stared into each other’s eyes most of the time. I had a feeling this boyfriend would stick even though he arrested our friend’s mom back in Chicago. Granted, she deserved it.
Other than a few of my siblings who couldn’t make the trip last minute, the only other person missing was my friend Peter. We’d parted ways in Chicago after learnin
g that he’d been running a call-girl ring. Desperate times had called – no pun intended – for the actions, but I was having trouble moving past it. It was my choice not to contact Peter, but the void still hurt. I was having trouble justifying his involvement with exploiting women. Maybe I needed more time.
Couples headed out to the dance floor after Gray and I took a quick spin. Now Gray sat talking to my dad in the corner so I struck up a conversation with the unknown woman. Her name was Eva Grace Williams, but everyone called her Gracie. She was actually Mary Francis’s cousin.
“Oh, I’ve known Franky for years. Since we were kids, really,” Gracie said.
“Franky?” I asked.
“Please don’t repeat that. He hates that name almost as much as his nickname. To him, Franky is dead. Like it was a different person and not a piece of his history.” She sipped her wine. “Tell me about you. I’d love to know more.”
I never knew how to respond to that comment. It caused me to want to fidget and blurt out how I got the scar on my chin (falling off the monkey bars), how I stole my mom’s car when I was fifteen and went for a joyride (I scratched the rearview mirror and covered it with nail polish, oops), or how I found everything terrifying, but I made myself do it anyway (like jumping of the Stratosphere). I didn’t think these were the insights into my crazy mind that she was looking for. Instead, I went with, “There’s not a lot to know. I grew up in a small town in Indiana. I have two loves, writing and traveling. And I’ve been lucky to use one to help pay for the other.” Boring. I used my left hand to tuck my hair behind my ear, once again forgetting about the loss. I patted the side of my head to cover the memory lapse of my missing hair before resting my hand back in my lap. I followed Gracie’s line of sight down to my wedding ring and back up to her eyes, still locked on the ring. Her hand came out tenderly and touched the braided band. She was so gentle, I barely felt her fingertips brush over me.
“Do you like it? Gray just gave it to me.” I laughed at myself. Gracie had watched Gray give me the ring.
“It’s beautiful. I, ah, it just shocked me to see it. It’s been awhile.”
“Awhile?” The confusion was evident on my face. I felt the wrinkle between my eyes.
“How about this? Tomorrow, come and see me for tea at my house. I’ll tell you all about the ring and its history, and you can ask me anything you’d like about Franky. He’s as much a part of the hotel as Antonio Bianchi was. How does that sound?”
“Good. I enjoy tea.” But, I enjoyed stories even more. “Thank you.”
“Gray will give you the address.” With that, Gracie rose and walked away. She floated more than walked across the room. Her head held high and her shoulders straight, she glided through the doorway. Grace was the embodiment of her name.
I spent the next few hours on the dance floor, being swept between my dads, Gray, Uncle Bob, and Michael. Most of them I was comfortable with. The dance with Michael dragged on. I watched anything around me for a distraction while he tried to make small talk. After multiple one-word answers, he gave up and finished the dance in silence. I breathed a sigh of relief when my dad approached to interrupt us. I gladly moved into my dad’s arms.
“You looked like you wanted to run, kid.”
I laughed at his observation. “I did. Until today, I’d always liked him. Now, I feel awkward around him.”
“You and Gray can choose to never return here. Remember that.”
“I’ll try.” I laid my head against his shoulder and relaxed my body. My muscles were tensed after my time in Michael’s presence. “Dad?”
“Yes?”
“What do you think of everyone else here?” He nudged my head away from him with his shoulder. I took a small step back and angled my chin up to look him in the eye.
“My honest opinion?”
“Yep.”
“Michael is the most dangerous person here, but not the only one.” I caught his use of the word person and not man. Dad pulled me closer again and spun me in circles with some fancy footwork. I relaxed and followed his lead. With his mouth close to my ear, he continued speaking in a low voice. To the crowd, we looked like we were doing nothing more than being silly together.
“Such as?” I asked. I kept a smile plastered to my face.
“Mary Francis? She’s mean as a snake. As long as you keep her in your sights, you’ll always be able to see her strike. No finesse with that one.”
“Frank?”
“He’s a tough one. Clearly clawed his way up, but he’s smoothed out now. The street kid in him barely emerges.”
“I think that’s just you making him nervous, Dad.”
“Little ol’ me?” he asked.
“I saw you. You locked your gaze on him and he started smiling and babbling. It’s your super power. You can get anyone to spill their beans.” I wrapped my arm tighter around him as he swung me around. “Did you have a chance to talk to Grace?”
“I did. She’s good to the core. Good midwestern stock.”
I laughed. “Of course, you’d think that. Anyone else?”
“Watch out for Uncle Bob.” I pulled back to look my dad in the eyes.
“Why? He’s harmless,” I said.
“Hardly. He’s a trained fighter. I’d guess a martial art of some kind.”
“How do you know these things?” I asked.
“The same way I always knew when you skipped school or snuck out of the house. Everyone has tells.” Dad nodded his head. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Bob talking to Gray in the corner. “I’m going to spin you around to face him. Watch his body.”
Dad’s movement was smooth and fluid. He changed up our steps to keep us in one place. The music transitioned smoothly into another slow song. Sinatra’s voice floated around me.
“What am I looking for?” I asked when I was in position.
“He still talking to Gray?”
“Yes.” Dad twisted our bodies a little more, putting Gray and Bob to our sides. I rested my cheek against his chest giving me a clear, unobstructed view of the them. My dad rested his cheek against the top of my head, his face pointed toward them also.
“Notice how his back is to the wall? If you pay attention to him consistently, you’ll notice he never leaves his back exposed. You learn that behavior in one of two ways. Prison or undercover work.”
“This is a family of criminals, Dad. Prison would make sense.” I pulled him closer and rested my chin on his shoulder.
“He doesn’t have any of the other prison tells. He doesn’t guard his food. He doesn’t challenge other people around him with looks.”
“You said martial art training? Why do you think that?” I asked.
“He’s fluid in his movements. Controlled. He’s aware of his body and how it works. That comes with years of training. Watch him walk or sit.”
“Wouldn’t ballet dancers or professional athletes be the same way with their bodies? Passion is,” I said.
“Yes. Passion moves like she is aware of her body, but the difference is she doesn’t look ready to strike at any moment. Keep watching. He looks casual and relaxed, but he could throw a punch at a moment’s notice.”
Bob laughed at something Gray said. He threw his head back and laughed with every cell of his body. I smiled in response. The man could laugh like no one else. Even now, as he cackled, I could see what my dad referred to. Bob’s eyes appeared to close in glee while he laughed, but slits remained. When his head reared back, he was still able to watch his surroundings.
“How do you know this stuff?” I asked.
“Behaviors don’t change.”
“Even yours?”
“Yes, kid, even mine. I may not be the beer-drinking, motorcycle-riding bad boy anymore, but I still size up any man in the room in case I need to fight my way out.”
As my dad spoke, multiple actions took place at once. A waiter walked by Gray and Bob carrying a tray with a wine bottle and two empty glasses. Mary Francis pushed her chair back fro
m her table right into the passing waiter. The waiter used his free hand to steady the tray but wasn’t able to stop the bottle and glasses from toppling over the side. Both Bob and Gray moved with the speed of light. Bob’s left snaked out grabbing the wine bottle by the neck before it hit the floor. Gray turned slightly, squatted and used both hands to catch the glasses before they broke. Mary Francis and the waiter were both oblivious. Mary Francis scolded the waiter and he responded by apologizing profusely.
My dad and I stopped dancing when the drama unfolded. Dad pointed to Bob holding the wine bottle and said, “Told ya.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Franky August 1988
A shiver ran down Franky’s body as he skirted around the area where the two men had died the previous week. Franky didn’t know how Costa had managed it, but there wasn’t a single bloodstain left to mar the scene.
“Stop your diddling, boy, and come on.” Antonio was already at the back door to Costa’s house. Franky looked away and hurried to catch up to him. Costa opened the door as Franky walked up.
The men met in Costa’s den again. The mood this time was lighter, less stressed. Between Costa and Bianchi at least, Franky was all nerves. He couldn’t wipe away the look of cold menace he remembered on Costa’s face when Milano was dying. As much as he tried, he couldn’t forget. Maybe it was a good thing. Franky thought he should hold onto it, to never forget Costa’s true colors.
Franky leaned against the wall as the two men took their seats in front of the fireplace. Both held glasses of whiskey. Franky watched as they made small talk, inquiring about each other’s families, and what both men thought would soon be a union between them. Guy was still nuts over Gracie, sneaking away at every opportunity to be with her. Guy thought they were careful, that neither Costa or Bianchi knew about his romance with Gracie. Franky hadn’t informed him otherwise. It didn’t hurt anything for the time being, and Franky wanted to hold the information close to his chest. Just in case it could be used in his favor. Glancing at Costa, he figured he needed leverage wherever he could get it.