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“The likeness is amazing,” Tomas agreed.
Joey studied his brother. Tomas’s eyes were bloodshot, which meant his back pain was giving him hell again, which meant he’d been drinking to compensate. He hated to see his brother drinking so much. He’d survived a serious beating a few months earlier. Hospitalized, he’d lost a kidney in his fight to survive. He had been cheating death since he was fourteen, a streak that had earned Tomas the nickname Nine-Lives-Lucky. Eventually it had been shortened to just Lucky.
Joey glanced back at Niccolo. “I never realized how small a two-year-old is. He looked bigger in the picture.”
Lucky grinned. “He’s going to take some work. You up for that, or do you want to take him back, fratello? Have you changed your mind?”
Joey admitted he didn’t know the first thing about raising his son, but the boy was his. That’s all he’d been thinking about for three days. And all he’d had on his mind when they had slipped into Santa Palazzo under the cover of darkness.
His brother had told him in the plane that he would back him in whatever decision he made concerning Niccolo. He’d said, “I’ll be behind you or in front of you. Walking in the front door, or going in through a window. Two of the guards on the estate are mine. I put them in place before I flew back here. We should be able to enter the grounds without any trouble. Then again, if you want to make trouble, I brought along the lupara. Capiche?”
They hadn’t used the sawed-off Italian shotgun. They’d gone in quietly through an open window off a balcony on the second floor. They were going in after his son, not to start a war. He hadn’t wanted to frighten Niccolo or endanger him by flying bullets.
It had only taken a few minutes to locate his son’s bedroom. Rhea’s room, too, though he hadn’t found her inside. His window of opportunity had been tight. They had ten minutes max to get in and back out. That’s why he had left behind the cross on Rhea’s pillow. If she cared at all about their son, he knew the cross would bring her back to Chicago.
“I need to hire a live-in nanny. Can you help me arrange some interviews tomorrow?”
“I’ll get on it first thing. If we leave him alone, you think he’ll be all right? We need to talk.”
Joey looked down at his son. “He’s finally sleeping, but he keeps asking for his bear.”
“There’s a kids’ store in the lobby, I’ll see what I can find. Are you ready to listen to what I have to say?”
“I was ready three days ago. You’re the one who wanted to wait until after Niccolo was here.”
“I didn’t want what I had to tell you to interfere with what was most important.”
“Meaning my decision to claim my son?”
“He’s yours.” Lucky hung his scarred hand on his jeans-clad hip. “If I had a son, I would want him with me.”
“I’m ready for whatever comes at me,” Joey told him. “I’ll fight the devil, or anyone else who tries to come between me and what is mine.”
“He’s a good-looking boy, fratello. Worth fighting for. Come, let’s talk and make some plans.”
Joey’s gaze went to his son. “I’ll leave the door open and the hall light on. If he wakes up in the dark and starts crying, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Guess you’ll get your chance to play daddy. Rub his back and tell him a story.”
Joey glanced at Lucky, then scowled when he saw his brother wearing an amused grin. “I don’t know any stories.”
“Sure you do. Remember the one Vina used to tell us? The one about the purple badass dragon who turned out to be a nice guy?”
Lavina Ward was their best friend’s mother. As young boys they’d spent countless hours with Jackson and Lavina Ward. They had adopted Vina as the mother they never had, and Jackson as the once-in-a-lifetime friend who hadn’t cared one bit what their name was, or what their father did for a living.
Twenty-eight years later, nothing had changed. Lavina was still baking her boys apple pies and buying them birthday presents. And Jackson, recently promoted as head of the CPD Special Investigations Unit, was still their best friend.
Joey tucked the blanket under his son’s chin, then followed his brother to the living room. When Lucky made a detour and slipped behind the bar, Joey said, “I thought you were going to give up the booze. Or, at least, back off a little.”
“I’ve rethought that. The way I see it, what’s the difference if I get addicted to painkillers or scotch? You might need a stiff one yourself once you hear what I have to tell you.”
Joey eased himself down on the red damask sofa that snaked around a massive Italian-marble coffee table.
Forty-nine stories up, Joey’s penthouse covered the entire top floor of Masado Towers. The ceilings were eighteen-feet high, and the furniture was plush and oversize in shades of Italian bloodred and gold. The long bar was imported cherry wood. A collection of large mirrors surrounding it and throughout the apartment opened up the already extravagant space, as did the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Grant Park and Lake Michigan.
Like the living area, the kitchen was a sprawling wonder filled with the latest conveniences and a number of skylights. A breakfast nook to the left of the kitchen offered a view of the city at sunrise, and the elegant dining room that jutted outward like a glass egg to the right, allowed for a breathtaking sunset view and a spectacular skylight panorama after dark.
When Lucky joined his brother, he brought Joey a glass of scotch and placed it on the coffee table. As he made himself comfortable on a gold tapestry chair, he said, “Trust me, you’re going to need that.”
“So, tell me what you know. Santa Palazzo was swarming with guards tonight. Whose place is it, and why so many guards?”
“The estate is never without guards. I’ve learned they’re a permanent, round-the-clock fixture. No less then eight at all times.”
“The electronic gates were high-tech. Some of the guards had dogs.”
“Four dogs. Dobermans with an attitude.” Lucky rubbed his thigh, indicating he’d had a conversation with one of them. “Before I tell you more about Santa Palazzo, I’ll explain how I found the place. It all started with the packages.”
“The packages?”
“For several years I’ve been mailing a package to a post office box in Key West every month. A job assigned to me eleven years ago when I was twenty. Since the packages were from various dress shops, I assumed they were gifts for one of Frank’s lady friends. From time to time I would joke with him about his dedication to one woman, and when I did, Frank would smile and get this strange look on his face. Anyway, when Sunni Blais opened Silks here at Masado Towers, Frank started ordering the packages from her shop. Last month, when I went to Silks to pick up the monthly package, I took a minute to talk to Sunni. She and I had never exchanged more than a few words since she’d opened her shop. But this time was different.”
“Because Jacky was in town.”
Lucky nodded. “He was living in her apartment. Acting as her bodyguard. But like you, I knew there was more between them.”
“So you were checking her out to see if she was right for Jacky.”
“We both know that women who look as good as Sunni does are usually bitches. But as it turned out, she was the exception to the rule. She’s for real in every way.”
“We’re in agreement on that. Tell me more about the packages,” Joey pressed.
“During the conversation, Sunni said something I thought was odd. She said the two gifts inside the package were exactly what Frank had ordered this time. One in each size.”
“One in each size?”
“That’s right. Two gifts. One in each size. For eleven years I thought I was picking up one gift for Frank’s mistress. A mistress he obviously cared a lot about because he never missed a month. But suddenly I learned there were two gifts inside one package. And they were in different sizes.” Lucky took a swallow of scotch. “I thought that was worth checking out, so I decided to fly down to Florida and stake out the post office box.”
“And that led you to Santa Palazzo.”
Lucky nodded. “For two days the same man showed up at the post office to retrieve the mail from the box. On the second day, I followed him. When he entered Santa Palazzo, and it was guarded like a fortress, my curiosity doubled. I decided to buy a camera and hang around for a few days to take some pictures. I wanted to see who came and went. That’s when I discovered Rhea.”
Lucky reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a handful of pictures and tossed them on the coffee table. “I figure you know where this is going. Those are the people who went in and out, the four days I watched the house. There’s only one in there that you’ll recognize other than Rhea.”
Joey reached for the pictures and shuffled through them, looking for confirmation of what he already knew. When he spied the picture, he said, “Frank was there. He’s known where Rhea’s been hiding the entire time.”
“It looks that way. But there’s something else you need to know, fratello. Santa Palazzo belongs to our father. In Key West he goes by the name Frank Palazzo.”
The news was such a shock that for a full minute Joey didn’t speak. Finally, he asked, “You’re absolutely sure? There’s no mistake?”
“None. He’s owned the estate for twenty-four years.”
“And Rhea’s been there since she left town?”
“I’d like to say I’ve confirmed that, but I haven’t. But my gut tells me she’s been there the entire three years. She looked relaxed. Talked to the guards. Smiled. Laughed. What I’m saying is, she’s no prisoner.”
“If that’s true, then Frank helped her run.”
“We both know he was upset when you broke off your engagement to Sophia D’Lano.”
“You’re saying he paid Rhea off?”
“Maybe. When Frank wants something bad enough, money’s no object. Then, neither is using a power play. He could have cut Rhea a deal. He could have told her she could keep the baby if she cooperated with him.”
“You think he knew she was pregnant.”
“Frank’s a cunning son of a bitch. Sure he knew. How, I can’t say, but that’s what motivated him. That’s what my gut tells me.”
“She could have gone to Frank. Maybe she blackmailed him.”
Lucky raised his heavy brows. “That’s an interesting twist. You think she’s capable of that?”
Three years ago Joey would have said no. Today all he could think about was that she had denied him his child.
“I’m not saying it didn’t happen that way,” Lucky stated. “But the Rhea I remember didn’t seem capable of blackmail. She never even bad-mouthed her psychotic ex-husband.”
“That’s because she was too busy surviving Stud’s hell, to spend time thinking of much else,” Joey reasoned, showing more emotion than he would have liked.
“Rhea doesn’t strike me as the manipulative-bitch type. Soft-spoken and kindhearted comes to mind. I can’t pinpoint what made her sexy as hell three years ago. I mean, it wasn’t exactly due to the condition she was in—the bruises and all—but she had something that made a man look twice. We both can’t deny that.”
More than a dozen qualities had made Joey look twice at Rhea Williams. And any one of them could be blamed for why he had ignored his own rules and mixed business with pleasure.
Up to that point he hadn’t wasted his time on married women, or divorced women packing baggage. And Rhea had had one helluva lot of baggage. Her ex-husband had been a cop. And if that hadn’t been enough to make Joey steer clear of her, the fact that Stud Williams was a dirty cop working for Frank should have.
“Remember when Frank offered to spearhead your investigation to find Rhea? Smart move on his part if he was the one hiding her out. My guess is, he put himself in that position to intercept information and to keep you in the dark.”
Joey said, “We never got any good leads. I always thought that was strange.”
Lucky nodded, rested his glass of scotch on his long jeans-clad leg. “I traced his flight itineraries for the past year. It wasn’t easy. Frank covers his tracks better than a snake on stilts.”
“And?”
“I’ve confirmed eight visits to Key West this past year.”
Joey swore, then leapt to his feet. “Why didn’t I suspect he was involved in Rhea’s disappearance?”
“Because he’s good at what he does,” Lucky reasoned. “Hell, for twenty-four years he’s been living a double life without either one of us knowing it. That kind of determination makes me a little nervous. I wonder what else he’s been hiding.”
“If he’s as good as you say, then, by now he’s on his way here to confront me.” Joey pointed to the silver chain tucked inside his brother’s shirt. “I left my cross on Rhea’s pillow.”
The cross that nested in the thatch of black hair on Lucky’s chest was identical to the ones Joey and Jackson wore. Lavina had given her boys the crosses one night when hell had descended on them, and all three boys had survived because they had stuck together. The decision they had made that night had bound them for life.
Lucky arched a brow. “You leave the cross for revenge’s sake, or out of concern for her state of mind once she found Niccolo gone?”
Not willing to analyze his actions, Joey said, “I want her to come to me. Face me. If she cares about the boy, she’ll come.”
“My men tell me Frank arrived at Santa Palazzo a few hours ago. My guess is, he got a call that Niccolo was taken and he flew out there soon after. You’re right. If he knows it was you who took Niccolo, we can expect him back here within twenty-four hours.”
Joey paced to the window, rubbing his jaw. He hadn’t shaved in three days—or slept, for that matter.
“So what do you want to do about Frank?”
“I have my son. That’s what I went there for.”
“The only reason?”
Joey turned slowly. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Frank’s been lying to us for years. Maybe it’s time we looked into why that is. Maybe we need to find out what he’s hiding at Santa Palazzo besides Rhea Williams.”
“I’ll go along with that.”
“And Rhea? What do you plan to do with her once she shows up?”
Joey wanted it to be all about revenge where Rhea was concerned. It would be easier that way. But when he’d walked into Rhea’s bedroom at Santa Palazzo he had been stopped cold, struck by her familiar scent filling his nostrils. Struck by the sight of her hairbrush on the vanity with blond strands of hair caught in the bristles. To his disgust he’d opened her closet just to look at her clothes.
“Do you think she knows that her ex-husband is in jail for murder?”
“That’s an interesting question.” Joey returned to the sofa. “It’s rather recent news. I suppose it would depend whether Frank thought it was news he could use to his advantage or not. Either way, at the moment, Rhea should be more afraid of me than her ex.”
“Rhea’s been through a lot in her life, fratello.”
“So I’m supposed to go easy on her because years ago she married the wrong man, and his favorite pastime was beating her up?”
“No. I’m saying Frank has more experience in deceiving people than Rhea.”
“The bottom line is, she’s been hiding my son from me like some dirty secret. And if it was Frank’s idea, and she was forced into it, she’s had plenty of time to find a way to get a message to me. But from what you’ve said, it sounds like she’s been living content at Santa Palazzo.”
Joey wasn’t going to accept any excuses. Whatever Rhea’s reason was, it wouldn’t be good enough. And the minute he laid eyes on her, this crazy feeling constricting his chest and tightening his jeans would burn itself out. He couldn’t possibly still care about her, after what she’d done.
“She looks different.”
Joey blinked out of his musing and saw Lucky studying one of the pictures. “She looks different because she’s not wearing a gauze bandage over her eye or a split lip.” He couldn’t disguise the anger and disgust that tainted his deep voice. He still hated the fact that he hadn’t been able to keep Stud from terrorizing her.
His gaze returned to the picture of Rhea walking on the beach. Besides being bruise free, he’d noticed that she’d cut her hair into a straight, carefree style, and it had been bleached almost white from the Florida sun. Her skin no longer made her look as pale as a ghost, and she wasn’t painfully thin. There was a gentle curve to her hips and more definition to her breasts. The only thing he could guarantee looked the same were her beautiful long legs.
Angry that he’d taken the time to dissect the picture, he said, “Not having bruises or gauze bandages doesn’t change the facts.”
“Which are?”
