The Secret She Keeps

When Gus raised his head, his lower lip quivered. He held his arms wide. “My prodigal granddaughter, come to me.”

She stepped into his arms, aware that she was dancing with the devil. Yet, she felt comforted by his acceptance. A strange warmth spread through her. This was where she belonged. This was her heritage, preordained by centuries of tragic Verones.

He whispered, “When I heard Eddy was killed, I thought I would die myself.”

“I know.” She’d felt the same way. Despite her loathing for her grandfather and all he represented, her natural grief rose up and joined with his. Tears swelled at the corners of her eyes, and she longed to give vent to her intense sorrow, to weep hysterically, to tear her clothes and beat her breasts in a primitive ritual of mourning.

She fought for control, needing to keep her wits about her. More important than her sadness was her son’s future. In order to insure he had a future, she had to escape the clutches of Gus Verone.

He held her at arm’s length, searching her face for signs of acquiescence. “Things are different now with the Verones.”

She didn’t believe him. If “things” were different, there would have been no reason for Eddy’s murder.

“You’ll see,” Gus said. “We have legitimate businesses. An accountant. I’ve opened a wine shop.”

“A liquor store,” Sophia corrected sharply.

He shot her a hard glance. “I provide all the wine for the church. Free of charge.”

“As if a few bottles of wine will buy God’s forgiveness,” Sophia said.

He turned back to Eden. “Your grandmother is a hard woman. But you’ll understand. You’ll see. Your son will be safe with us.”

Like Eddy? Through gritted teeth, she lied, “It’s good to be home.”

“That’s my girl!” He clapped her shoulders and beamed. His attitude reminded her of a beast toying with his prey before he tore limb from limb and devoured his hapless victim. “Come with me.”

“Of course.” There was no other option. All doors would be guarded by her grandfather’s foot soldiers. She must time her escape carefully.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he guided her toward the exit from the anteroom. With every appearance of innocence, Gus said, “I have more unfortunate news.”

She braced herself. “Yes?”

“You once were fond of Pete Maggio. You remember?”

Had Payne been caught in the basement? Was he dead? Though she felt a burst of alarm, Eden showed no sign of apprehension. “I remember him.”

“We thought he’d been killed, but it wasn’t true. It was Pete Maggio who murdered your brother.”

Payne had warned her that this would be the accepted story, and she was more inclined to believe him than her grandfather. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “Why would Peter Maggio shoot Eddy?”

“I don’t yet know.”

Liar! Surely, her grandfather knew that Peter Maggio was really Payne Magnuson, a federal agent.

He continued, “But I’ll find out why. And I will have my revenge. Pete Maggio will pay with his life.”

Eden could hold back no longer. “Two minutes ago, you said things were different. Now you’re talking about another murder. Which is it, Gus? Are you a legitimate wine merchant or a crime boss?”

“I take care of my family.”

That was always the reason, the excuse for inexcusable crime. Locked in her grandfather’s iron grasp, she went through the door into a corridor, leaving Grandmother Sophia alone with the coffin to mourn. Nothing had changed. Nothing ever would.

As she and Gus walked slowly along the side aisle through St. Catherine’s magnificent sanctuary, Eden searched for a way out. Beneath the vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows, men in dark suits stood guard beside the marble statues of saints with hollow, sightless eyes. Awaiting her grandfather’s orders, his men sat stoically in polished oak pews. Their presence—obscene in this cathedral—emphasized the futility of any attempted flight. As Eden passed a shrine of votives, she offered a silent prayer. Help me. Keep my son safe.

Her grandfather escorted her down a flight of stairs to a room near the front of the church where a bride might make final preparations for her ultimate walk down the aisle. It was also where the immediate family waited before a funeral. Several people had gathered. Their nervous chatter ceased when Gus Verone entered. Furtive silence ensued. Every gaze slid toward Eden and her grandfather.

Gus spoke without raising his voice. “Into every dark sorrow comes a ray of light. My granddaughter, Candace Verone, returns to the family.”

He nodded for her to speak to this gathering of strangers who were all too familiar. Distant cousins, aunts and uncles—all ages and sizes—ranged before her like a family portrait come to life. She couldn’t hate them, but she would never willingly take her place among the Verones.

What should she say? Only the truth. “I loved my brother, Eddy, and I regret the years we’ve been apart. He should not have died so young. On this day, I share my grief with all of you.”

A stoop-shouldered woman with silver hair piled high beneath a black lace mantilla took Eden’s hands and kissed both cheeks. “Welcome,” she said.

Then came another and another in a bizarre ritual, bringing her back to the fold. The prodigal granddaughter had returned; it was time to slaughter the fatted calf and celebrate. Each greeting piled on another heavy layer of remorse, suffocating her lungs, killing her gently with their forgiveness.

Fifteen minutes before the funeral was scheduled to begin, she found herself talking to her cousin, Robert Ciari, who had been only a year ahead of her at St. Catherine’s. A former football player, Robert’s muscle had gone to fat. His hair thinned, he looked much older than thirty-two.

Eden would’ve expected Robert to be next in line after her grandfather, but he wasn’t being treated with the deference reserved for a boss.

“What have you been up to?” Eden asked.

“This and that,” he said. “Went to college. Busted up my knee real bad so I couldn’t play football anymore. Got married.”

“Kids?”

“Three daughters.” He shrugged. “I guess I got lucky because they take after their mother. They’re real smart. My oldest wants to be a lawyer.”

They were joined by a statuesque, raven-haired woman in a snug black jersey dress. She had a figure to die for. Angela Benedict, another cousin, was probably ten years older than Eden. “Little Candace,” she said in a husky voice. “I used to baby-sit for you and Eddy. Remember?”

“How could I forget?” Angela had been the coolest teenager in the neighborhood. A cheerleader. The star of the high school play. “I idolized you, Angela. I wanted to be you when I grew up.”

“Things change.” An edge of bitterness marred her precise beauty. Eden remembered that Angela’s husband had spent six years in prison after the shoot-out when she thought Peter, now Payne, had died.

“Where have you been?” Angela asked.

“Out west.” Eden didn’t want to give particulars that made her easier to find. “I work for a caterer.”

“You always loved cooking,” Angela said. “Is there a husband?”

“Not yet,” Eden said. “Tell me about your kids.”

“My boys are nearly grown. Both in college.” She linked arms with Eden, sweeping her away from Robert Ciari. “Come with me to the ladies’ room. We need some girl talk.”

There was nothing girlish about this strong, well-dressed, attractive woman. Power radiated from Angela Benedict. If she’d been born male, Angela would certainly have been ruling the family roost.

The plain, three-stall bathroom was empty, and Angela wasted no words. “Peter Maggio has come back from the dead. He was your lover, wasn’t he?”

“Angela, that’s ancient history.”

“He gave you a child.” Her dark eyes bored hard into Eden’s face. “A son.”

“I have a son,” Eden said, careful not to acknowledge that Payne was the father.

“An heir to the Verone family name. Your grandfather wants the boy here.”

“I don’t understand why,” Eden said. “It’s not like we’re royalty or anything. If my grandfather wants to groom an heir, why not look to Robert Ciari. He has—”

“Female children,” Angela said harshly. “We call Robert the girl-maker. He’s not a leader.”

She turned away and studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She placed her black leather purse on the counter beside the sink and removed a tube of lipstick. As she prepared to reapply her makeup, she avoided Eden’s gaze. Cousin Angela was hiding something. A clenching in her jaw betrayed her tension. What did she want? Power and wealth, Eden deduced, because Angela was not the sort of woman who cared much about loving or being loved. She wanted her boys to rise to power in the family.

The thought disgusted Eden. She couldn’t imagine thrusting Josh into this arena. Any woman who would sacrifice her children was a frightening creature.

Quietly, Eden asked, “What about you? You could run the family.”

“I didn’t marry the right man,” Angela said. “Gus doesn’t like Nicky. No one can doubt his loyalty, but my husband is difficult. Angry. Brooding. After prison, he was never quite the same.”

As Angela applied blood-red lipstick with an unshaking hand, Eden had the impression that this woman was strong enough for both herself and her husband—ferocious enough to lead an army into battle, taking no prisoners.

The question was: Why had Angela made a point of seeking her out? Her intention in bringing Eden into the bathroom was certainly not for girl talk. “Was there something you wanted to say to me?”

“I want to stay in touch.” She removed a small gold case from her purse and took out a business card. “This is my personal cell phone. Call me any time.”

Though Eden slipped the card inside her skirt pocket, she couldn’t imagine they’d ever be friends. “I appreciate the gesture, Angela.”

“But you really don’t plan to stick around, do you? You don’t care for the family business. Twelve years ago, when it came time for us to stand together, you ran.” Her alto voice resonated with disdain. “I suspect you don’t want your son to be involved with the Verones.”

“Very perceptive,” Eden said coolly.

“I suspect,” Angela said, “that you would run away again if given a chance.”

As she replaced her lipstick in her purse, she removed a set of keys which she left on the countertop. “It’s the black Corvette in the first row of the church parking lot.”

Turning on her heel, she left the ladies’ room.

Eden snatched the keys. She turned toward the garden level casement window. It’d be easy to climb out and escape. Almost too easy.

No doubt, Angela was setting her up. If Eden ran, she’d be out of favor with her grandfather. She would also be beyond his protection. Whoever had killed Eddy might come after her.

But if she stayed, Eden was trapped. Josh would be brought here. He’d be indoctrinated into the family business.

She had to take this chance.

INSIDE THE MOTEL ROOM, Payne stood at the edge of the window, peering through the slit between the nubby brown curtain and the stucco wall. The Riverside Inn was a two-story structure with rooms on both sides. He’d chosen a spot on the first floor near the end of the building. From this vantage point, he could see the motel office and the asphalt parking lot. His own rental car was parked on the opposite side of the building, ready for a quick escape if Candace, who now called herself Eden, chose to reveal his location to her family.

Arranging a meeting with her had violated every principle of undercover work. Payne had allowed his emotions to overwhelm common sense. He’d revealed too much. Like a rookie, he’d risked his entire operation for a few moments of gratification. For one kiss.

But what a kiss! He didn’t honestly regret one second of the time he’d spent with her in St. Catherine’s basement. She was everything he remembered and more. Strong, principled and vivacious, she was even more lovely than when she was a nineteen-year-old virgin who gave her love so sweetly to him. He treasured that indelible memory. Their first night together had become a fantasy. If he closed his eyes, Payne could remember the feel of her satin skin. He could see her surprised look of arousal. Her hazel eyes widened. She gasped. And then came her soft cries of delight.

His dream woman. She stirred his blood. The mere thought of her excited him.

He stared at the motel parking lot. Once again, he was violating the dictates of undercover work. He had trusted a potential enemy and left himself vulnerable, but he didn’t care. Candace Verone was worth the risk.

Not Candace, he reminded himself. She was Eden. A strange name. Did she identify with Eve who was too smart to stay in a supposed Paradise? Maybe she’d picked Eden because the name reminded her of Eddy. Poor guy! In that Brooklyn restaurant, he never stood a chance. Danny-O had been lying in wait. But why?

That discovery was Payne’s mission—a job not sanctioned by the FBI or anybody else. Other law enforcement people were involved. Other agents. And members of the Verone family. Who were they? And why, damn it, why had the Verones arranged a hit on Eddy?

He checked his wristwatch. Two forty-five. He’d promised to stay here until four. In the next hour and fifteen minutes, the course of his future might be determined. Either she would come to him or not. He hardly dared to hope. If she came to him…

A black Corvette with temporary tags roared into the parking lot and squealed to a stop outside his window. Eden bolted from the car. Her confused gaze darted. She didn’t know which room was his.

A well-trained undercover agent would’ve stayed inside, not revealing himself with anything more than a subtle gesture. He would’ve exerted caution and patience. But Payne wasn’t thinking like a federal agent. He was only a man.

He flung open the door to his room and strode toward her. His arms enveloped her. He inhaled the clean fragrance of her hair. My God, she was everything he’d ever wanted.

“Back off!” she ordered.

“You came to me.” Ignoring her protest, he embraced her more tightly, hanging onto a dream that just might come true. “You’re here.”

“Well, duh!” Forcibly, she shoved free. “Listen, Payne. Or whoever you are. We’ve got to move. Now.”

“Damn, you’re beautiful.” Her chestnut hair was mussed. Her white silk blouse had come partially untucked from the black skirt. Her breath came in gasps. Her cheeks flushed pink with excitement.

She wanted him. He knew she wanted him.

“Payne!” she shouted. “Did you hear me?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak without bursting into a sonnet to describe her melodious voice and fantastic—

“We gotta go,” she said. “My grandfather’s men could be here any minute.”

“Why?”

Eden rolled her eyes. “Because I escaped from the funeral. I snuck through the bathroom window and stole a car.”

“Nice wheels,” he noted.

“But a little obvious,” she said. “Somebody could have followed me.”

He doubted her logic. If she’d picked up a tail, they’d be here by now.

And there they were. Two full-sized sedans rounded the motel office and tore across the motel parking lot, aiming directly for them. Payne snapped a mental Polaroid, memorizing make, model and license plate number for future reference. Then, he grabbed Eden’s hand and dove into his motel room.

“I told you so,” she said.

“Yes, you did.” And it was a little grating for her to mention that fact. He didn’t need to be reminded of his tactical errors.

Crossing the motel room, Payne went through the door into a hallway that ran the length of the building. Pulling Eden along with him, he used his key on a room at the opposite side of the hall which he had also reserved. They entered a room that was a mirror image of the one they’d just left, except it opened onto a rear parking lot where his rental car awaited. “We go out this way.”

“Got it,” she said.

He went first. He could already hear gunfire from the opposite side of the Riverside Inn. Payne yanked his pistol from the holster attached to his belt.

At his car, he signalled to Eden. “Get in the passenger side and duck down.”

She quickly obeyed.

He slid behind the wheel of a midsize rental car with just enough juice for decent acceleration. If the fates were with them, their assailants would be busy on the other side and wouldn’t realize they’d fled until they were on their way.

No such luck! A bullet pinged against the side of the car. He lowered the window and fired back, then glanced at Eden who was crouched on the floor under the dashboard.

“Give me your gun,” she said. “I’ll return fire.”

He’d prefer if she stayed in a more protected position. “No.”

“Give me the damn gun!”

Another bullet. He handed over the pistol. While he drove, she poked the gun through the open window and fired blindly in the direction of their attackers.

Payne raced to the end of the parking lot and merged into a steady flow of traffic. Less than a mile from here was the entry ramp to a major interstate highway. Dodging from lane to lane, barely squeaking through every amber light before it turned red, he drove past the interstate. “Are they tailing us?”

Eden craned her neck to see through the rear window. “I don’t think so. Where are we going?”

He’d studied the maps but hadn’t made firm plans. They approached the intersection of two routes, offering three possible directions for their escape. He made his decision and turned left. “We’re headed south.”

The four lane road stretched past strip malls and gas stations before narrowing to a two-lane. Payne pulled into a cafe parking lot to watch the flow of traffic.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m making sure they’re not coming this way.” None of the passing cars matched the description he’d memorized. Though their flight had been sloppy, it had worked. His advance planning had paid off. “I think we’re okay on this route. Give me my gun back.”

“I don’t think so,” she said.

He took his eyes off the road and stared into her beautiful but determined hazel eyes. What the hell was going on? “Give the gun back. Now.”

“It doesn’t make sense for you to have the gun. You need to concentrate on driving. I’m riding shotgun. That’s what the passenger seat is called, you know. Riding shotgun.”

“Cute.” But she wasn’t an agent. Eden was the woman of his dreams. “Are you a marksman?”

“That’s not the point,” she said. “And shouldn’t we be moving on?”

He couldn’t believe that she was questioning his authority and trying to call the shots. However, she was correct. He ought to be on the road, putting distance between them and the Verones.

Silently, he put the car in gear, exited the cafe parking lot and headed south, unsure of their final destination. For now, he needed to stay in the Chicago area to pursue his investigation. Tomorrow, he planned to pick up the surveillance cameras he had placed at St. Catherine’s to find out who had attended Eddy’s funeral. He wondered if Danny-O had the guts to show up, to stand beside the coffin of the man he’d murdered. If Danny-O was there, who was with him? Who were the other agents who allied themselves with the Verones?

As he drove, he became aware of Eden staring at him. “What is it?” he asked.

“I’m trying to decide if I can trust you.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been in law enforcement all my adult life. I’m a senior agent. I teach classes at Quantico.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re trustworthy,” she said. “Twelve years ago, you were good enough at deception to fool my whole family. And me.”

“That was my job.”

“And now? What’s your current assignment?”

“This time, it’s personal,” he said. “I need to find out why your brother was murdered.”

“I see.” Eden hadn’t expected that response. She’d thought he was, once again, working on an elaborate takedown of the Verones.

She leaned back in her seat and stared through the windshield. Though she didn’t believe in her grandfather’s brand of vengeance, she was strangely touched that Payne was concerned about finding justice for her brother. “I didn’t think you even liked Eddy.”

“He was your brother.” Payne shrugged. “That made him important to me.”

And how would he feel when he learned he had a son? Eden wasn’t sure she should tell him. Josh was her child, her baby. She’d raised him all by herself and had done a fine job for a single mother who showed up pregnant in Denver, not knowing a soul. Introducing a brand-new father would be traumatic to say the least.

She looked down at her lap. Her hands curled around the handle of the black automatic pistol. Her fingers were visibly trembling. She willed herself to stop but couldn’t. Detached, she observed this strange quaking in her hands. Was she in shock? Her breath caught in her lungs and came in shallow little gasps. She forced herself to sigh. Exhale. Inhale. Get a grip!

This was a belated reaction to having her life threatened. When they were escaping from the motel, she hadn’t acknowledged her fear, didn’t allow herself to imagine that she could’ve been shot or killed. The reality sank in. My God, she could be dead right now. Like Eddy. Cold in his coffin. Dead like all the other Verones. The tremors marched up her arm, and she shivered.

“Are you cold?” Payne asked.

“A little scared.” Defensively, she added, “Just a little.”

“I never would’ve guessed. You handled yourself like a pro.”

“A professional agent or a criminal? Do I remind you of someone who regularly engages in gun battles? Who goes for high-speed chases in stolen Corvettes?” She hadn’t intended to snap at him, but she welcomed the outburst of anger that stifled her fear. “I am a Verone, you know.”

“As if I could forget.”

The tone of his voice cooled by several degrees, and she could feel him pulling away from her. Good! She didn’t need Payne Magnuson, no matter what his mission. “I’ll always be a Verone.”

“I meant to compliment you,” he said. “When those guys were coming after us, you were smart and quick.”

That wasn’t how she felt right now. She wanted to scream hysterically at the top of her lungs and give vent to the unbearable tension building inside her. Her nerves stretched tight as the head of a snare drum. Her pulse beat a sharp rat-a-tat-tat. She was nervous for her own safety and terrified for Josh. “I need to go to the airport.”

“Not possible.”

“Do I need to remind you that I’m the one with a gun in my hand?”

“There’s no way you can catch a flight from O’Hare without someone noticing,” he said. “We’re being pursued by two different factions. Your grandfather’s men. And a group of FBI agents who have convinced the Bureau that I’m the renegade. They’ll want to bring you in for questioning.”

“But I haven’t done anything,” she protested.

“Life ain’t fair.”

Implacably, he continued to drive along the southern route leading to nowhere. His hand on the wheel was steady. No tremors there. Payne was accustomed to danger. With his dark eyes trained on the road, he drove at a sane, responsible speed. His calm manner reassured her. Payne seemed like a man who could handle any crisis. He radiated a masculine aura of capability.

Eden ordered her lungs to exhale again, slowly. Her panic had begun to wane. Studying Payne soothed her. His features were sharply chiseled and his deep-set eyes held a lifetime of unspoken expression. She could see a strong resemblance to her son. Not a bad thing. She wouldn’t mind if Josh grew up to look like his father with broad shoulders and strong wrists.

Eden wished she could simply ride along and admire the scenery, but she had important things to do. “I have to get back to Denver.”

“How?”

“Airport,” she repeated, exasperated by his unwillingness to comprehend. “O’Hare.”

“I told you before. The FBI is looking for you. That means you can’t take any form of public transportation. With the current level of airport security and surveillance, you wouldn’t make it to the ticket counter before somebody picked you up.” He glanced toward her. “The best way to get across country is to drive.”