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One Way Out
Wendy Rosnau
For one stolen night, they'd shared a scorching passion and intimate tenderness, giving Rhea Williams hope for the future–and a family. But Joey Masado belonged to another family–and was promised to another woman.Rather than be Joey's mistress, Rhea fled, never telling him she carried their child. But when her son disappeared, she knew he'd found out….The moment he saw her, Joey knew he had to claim Rhea for his own. But the depth of his desire for her put them all in grave danger. Now Joey had stolen their son to bring Rhea to his side–and somehow had to give her the protection of his name without revealing the feelings in his heart….
“I’m through fighting with you, Rhea.”
“I want to leave here, Joey. I want to take Nicci and leave Chicago.”
He stopped, turned. “No.”
“Damn you, Joey!”
“I may not have your respect right now, but I’ll have your loyalty. You’re stuck between a hard place and an even harder man, darlin’. Your future, and our son’s, are mine. The sooner you get used to that, the better off you’re going to be.”
Rhea shook her head, her eyes wide. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that in three days, you’re going to stand beside me…as my wife.”
Dear Reader,
“In like a lion, out like a lamb.” That’s what they say about March, right? Well, there are no meek and mild lambs among this month’s Intimate Moments heroines, that’s for sure! In Saving Dr. Ryan, Karen Templeton begins a new miniseries, THE MEN OF MAYES COUNTY, while telling the story of a roadside delivery—yes, the baby kind—that leads to an improbable romance. Maddie Kincaid starts out looking like the one who needs saving, but it’s really Dr. Ryan Logan who’s in need of rescue.
We continue our trio of FAMILY SECRETS prequels with The Phoenix Encounter by Linda Castillo. Follow the secret-agent hero deep under cover—and watch as he rediscovers a love he’d thought was dead. But where do they go from there? Nina Bruhns tells a story of repentance, forgiveness and passion in Sins of the Father, while Eileen Wilks offers up tangled family ties and a seemingly insoluble dilemma in Midnight Choices. For Wendy Rosnau’s heroine, there’s only One Way Out as she chooses between being her lover’s mistress—or his wife. Finally, Jenna Mills’ heroine becomes The Perfect Target. She meets the seemingly perfect man, then has to decide whether he represents safety—or danger.
The excitement never flags—and there will be more next month, too. So don’t miss a single Silhouette Intimate Moments title, because this is the line where you’ll find the best and most exciting romance reading around.
Enjoy!
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
One Way Out
Wendy Rosnau
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
WENDY ROSNAU
resides on sixty secluded acres in Minnesota with her husband and their six children. She now divides her time between her family-owned bookstore and writing romantic suspense.
Her first book, The Long Hot Summer, was a Romantic Times nominee for Best First Series Romance of 2000. Her third book, The Right Side of the Law, was a Romantic Times Top Pick. She received the Midwest Fiction Writers 2001 Rising Star Award.
Wendy loves to hear from her readers. Visit her Web site at www.wendyrosnau.com.
This book is dedicated to you, the readers, who have expressed interest in my Brotherhood series and the Masado brothers.
A special thanks to my editor, Gail Chasan, for believing in me and for putting up with my red ink pen time and again.
Also for allowing me the freedom needed to make this series come alive on the page.
Grazie…
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Chapter 1
At midnight Grace Palazzo suffered her second stroke of the year. Her struggle had been traumatic, but not fatal. It had sent the household into a panic and Rhea, along with Grace’s daughter, into tears. But it wasn’t the most significant drama to unfold on that stormy night on the third of November.
No, the real drama, at least for Rhea Williams, had come hours later when she had returned to her bedroom to find the silver cross glistening on her pillow.
She had scarcely been able to breathe as she backed out the door, then raced down the hall to Nicci’s room. Only, she knew before she swung the door wide that her son was gone—that like a thief in the night, his father had breached the house and taken him.
She had prayed she was wrong, had prayed for mercy—a shred of compassion. But there was no mercy, no compassion, only an open window and an empty bed where her son had slept for the past two years.
A gust of wind lifted the curtain at her bedroom window, and in spite of the heat, Rhea shivered. Key West was warm, but after the sun went down, the wind could become as dangerous and unpredictable as a vengeful witch. Especially during hurricane season.
The smell of rain was heavy in the air, the pounding surf a constant roaring in her ears. The tropical storm the islanders had been preparing for was less than ten hours away. Rhea hated storms, but she would rather meet a hurricane head-on than return to Chicago and face Nicci’s father.
In the beginning, all she had wanted was to go back, and for Joey to know about his son. But then the days had turned into months, the months into years, and slowly Santa Palazzo had become her home.
Oh God…he knew they had created a child—a beautiful black-haired, brown-eyed baby boy.
“What will you do, Rhea?”
The voice was soft behind her, as soft as the touch on her shoulder. Rhea turned from her bedroom window to face Grace’s twenty-four-year-old daughter. Elena stood hugging herself, her eyes red from crying. Tonight had been a nightmare for both of them.
“Rhea, did you hear me? How will you get Nicci back?” When Rhea didn’t answer right away, Elena squeezed her shoulder. “You’re scaring me, Rhea. There’s a way to get him back, isn’t there? You’ll fight, right?”
Fight Joey…
Elena had no idea how ridiculous that statement was. She had no idea what lay hidden behind all the closed doors to the past. She had no idea the complexity of the situation, or the danger. But then, why would she? She’d been carefully sheltered from the secrets by layers of lies—twenty-four years of lies.
“When I called to tell my father about Mom’s stroke, we had no idea that Nicci had been kidnapped. But he’s coming, Rhea. On his way right now. He’ll be here in a few hours. We’ll tell him what happened, and he’ll know what to do. He loves Nicci. You know that.”
Yes, she knew that. Frank thought the world of Nicci. That wasn’t up for debate. What was, however, was how to defuse the time bomb that had started ticking the minute Joey had learned he had a son. And that’s what would be foremost on Frank’s mind when he learned Nicci had been taken by Joey.
But how could she tell Elena any of that, without explaining the rest? Without telling her that her father, Frank Palazzo, resident of Key West, Florida, was also Frank Masado, a member of the famiglia in the Chicago-Italian mafia. And if she went that far to disclose his double identity, she would have to tell Elena all of it. She would have to confess that Frank was Nicci’s grandfather.
Elena believed she was an only child. She had no idea that she was the half sister to Joey and Tomas Masado. She had no idea that her father had been previously married, or that he’d been juggling two separate lives with well-crafted scenarios and tightly woven lies to keep them all safe.
When Frank had brought Rhea to Key West three years ago, he had told Elena that he’d hired a live-in nurse for Grace. And that’s how Rhea had been disguised—how the household at Santa Palazzo had come to accept her.
Grace’s health over the years had gradually gotten worse, and she needed constant care. Rhea had been a nurse in Chicago for seven years. The situation had worked on all levels.
“Talk to me, Rhea. What can I do to help?”
“I don’t want your mother to know what’s happened. She’s too fragile. She needs bed rest and no excitement for at least forty-eight hours. And your father…when he learns what happened tonight he’ll know why I had to…”
“Leave. You are, aren’t you.”
“I can’t wait, Elena. I’ll go crazy waiting for your father to get here.”
Elena reached out and tugged Rhea to the bed. Pulling her down to sit next to her, she said, “Mother would have died tonight if you hadn’t been here to help her. If you leave, she’ll have no one.”
Rhea pushed her long blond bangs out of her eyes. “You’re wonderful with your mother, Elena. You are why your mother has survived all these years. You and your father. She’ll be fine until Frank comes. He’ll order a replacement nurse within twenty-four hours.”
“Why can’t we just call the police and tell them that Nicci’s been kidnapped? Tell them that you know who did it, and—”
“I can’t do that,” Rhea said quickly. “Nicci’s father is a powerful man in Chicago. When I left I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. I didn’t say where I was going, either. I just left. I had my reasons. Good reasons. But…”
“I was always curious about Nicci’s father,” Elena admitted. “Is that where he gets his black hair and dark eyes? Does his father have black hair? You’re so fair, and Nicci’s so dark.”
“Joey’s Sicilian. His family…” Rhea glanced at Elena’s dark hair, then her earthy brown eyes, “they all have black hair and dark eyes.”
“Did you run away because he hurt you, Rhea? Was it Nicci’s father who gave you the scars?”
Rhea saw Elena focus on the thin white line on her lower lip, then on the one that slipped into the corner of her left eye—the scar that had made her wear an eye patch for months. The scar that had nearly blinded her.
“It wasn’t like that. Joey never hurt me.”
Elena frowned. “Then, I don’t understand.”
“I was in an accident.” Rhea shivered, remembering Stud’s angry eyes as he’d picked her up and hurled her through her bedroom window. Her ex-husband had claimed he hadn’t meant to hurt her, just to knock some sense into her. Elena didn’t need to know the sordid details of Rhea’s past, however, or the dangers that threatened her once she returned to Chicago. And likewise, Rhea didn’t want to dwell on her ex-husband…or Joey.
Especially not Joey.
There was no rational explanation for falling in love with him three years ago. It had been one of those crazy chance meetings at a time when she should have been too wary of any man to notice the black-haired Sicilian in the hospital corridor during one of her unscheduled late-night visits.
At the time, she didn’t know what caught her attention first, the meticulous way he dressed or his shockingly deep voice. Later, she came to realize it was neither. What had drawn her to Joey Masado was the hidden tenderness in the depth of his dark eyes despite his poignant tough-guy image—a goodness and a fairness that defied reason, as well as rumor.
“How soon are you leaving?”
The thought of returning to Chicago scared Rhea. But she forced a weak smile. “As soon as I can book a flight. While I pack, will you call the airport? I need to get out of here before the storm hits and they start grounding planes.”
And before Frank comes home and tries to stop me.
“Will you come back?”
“Yes. I’ll be back. With Nicci.” Rhea knew that it was the only way to defuse the time bomb—if she and Nicci returned to Santa Palazzo. How she was going to manage that wasn’t clear just yet, but she would focus on that once she had faced Joey and knew that Nicci was all right.
Elena shoved her long black hair away from her face, and stood. “I’ll call the airport.” She headed for the door, then turned back. “I love you and Nicci. I know I’ve never told you that, Rhea. But it’s true. I can’t imagine either of you not in my life.”
The uncertainty of the situation brought tears to Rhea’s eyes, and she came off the bed quickly. “I love you, too. I’ve always wanted a sister, and you’ve been that to me. Thank you for accepting me into your home, Elena.”
“Oh, Rhea.” Suddenly Elena rushed back and threw herself into Rhea’s arms. “If you need me, I’m here. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget me.”
The drive to the airport was hampered by heavy rain. When Rhea boarded the plane it was in a downpour, the wind so savage that she was glad she had worn jeans and her brown suede jacket.
When the plane was finally airborne, she pulled the silver cross from her pocket and stared down at it. Unbidden, the image of Joey, half naked, wearing the silver cross nestled against the black hair on his chest materialized, and with it a fierce longing that had her feeling anxious as well as frightened.
Three years hadn’t dimmed his powerful image or the emotions that had kept the memories alive. If anything, the years had sharpened the picture in her mind’s eye, and strengthened her belief that for a brief moment in time she had experienced heaven on earth.
It rained throughout the night. All the way through Florida and Georgia. Hours later, Rhea changed flights in Nashville, and as she watched the dawn of a new day from her seat among the clouds, a small private aircraft made its final descent onto a runway at Chicago’s O’Hare International. And like the tough Sicilian heritage Niccolo Joseph Masado had been born into, the black-haired two-year-old boy asleep in his father’s arms never fussed or blinked an eye as his uncle Tomas landed the sleek white Cessna in a rush of speed, tires squealing on black tarmac.
As choices went, this one had been easy. There had been risks involved, but then, Joey Masado was used to taking risks. He was a suit-and-tie businessman, considered the best moneyman in Chicago. But tonight, unshaven, wearing jeans and a sweater, he’d been simply a father on a mission to claim what was rightfully his.
Joey reached out and straightened the blanket that covered his sleeping son. He was smaller than he’d expected. He couldn’t help but worry about that. What if the boy was ill, or had been born sickly?
When he’d learned he had a son—a son he hadn’t known existed until his brother had waltzed into his office three days ago and slapped the proof down on his desk—he hadn’t believed it was possible. But the proof was no longer just a glossy photo, a flat image of a black-haired little boy walking on the beach hand-in-hand with his mother. The boy was flesh and blood.
His flesh and blood.
If the boy’s mother had been anyone other than Rhea Williams, Joey would have refused to believe the child was his. He had always been careful when he’d climbed into a woman’s bed. He’d never lost his head or forgotten himself. That is, not until he’d laid eyes on the sexy blond with the sad blue eyes.
No, Niccolo was definitely his son. He was as certain of that as he was of why Rhea had run away from Chicago three years ago. He had always thought she had vanished out of fear of her ex-husband. But now he knew that wasn’t the case. Pregnant with his child—a Masado child—she had run to escape him and what their son would surely become if she stayed.
As hard as it was to accept, the proof was asleep in front of him—the proof of Rhea’s betrayal.
“He looks just like the pictures of you hanging on the wall in the old house. I remember thinking that, the day I photographed him on the beach with Rhea.”
“That’s what Jacky said, too. The picture, I mean.” Joey turned to his brother, who stood in the doorway leaning heavily into the jamb. “Jacky just left. But for the past hour, he’s been sitting here staring at Niccolo and shaking his head.”
