One Way Out

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Rhea hesitated, then said, “I should let you find out the hard way, Joey. But at whose expense? It wouldn’t be yours or your professional’s, it would be at Nicci’s expense. Still, a nanny won’t know that he likes peas better than squash. Or that thunderstorms make him wake up crying. Or that he gets constipated if he doesn’t drink enough juice. But I know those things, Joey. I know them because I’ve been with our son every minute since he was born.” On a roll, she jabbed herself in the chest. “Me! The only professional he needs! His mother!”

He reached out and covered her mouth with his hand. “We’re not going to fight in the hall where he can hear us,” he whispered hotly.

Rhea opened her mouth and bit down hard on the side of his hand, so frustrated and angry that she reacted before she thought.

“Maledizione!”

The minute she let go, she warned him off with her extended arm. “I’m the one who should be caring for our son. But have it your way…daddy. Father knows best, right?”

She turned then, and quickly headed for the door. She didn’t want to go, but he was going to send her back to her cell “with a view,” anyway. At least this way, she wouldn’t have to be led away like a criminal on her way back to lockup.

She’d almost reached the door when he caught her in the foyer and turned her around. Backing her against the wall, he easily pinned her there. He leaned in and snapped, “Damn you, Rhea… Damn your hide.”

“And damn your hide right back, Joey. Now let go! Or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?”

Instead of telling him, Rhea hoisted her knee.

As she clipped him in the crotch, Joey swore, then wedged his knee between her legs and gave her his weight. “You should have told me you were pregnant, damn you.”

“You should have told me you were engaged to Sophia D’Lano.”

“I’m Niccolo’s father.”

“I’m his mother.”

The room fell silent as he stared her down. A full minute lapsed before he said, “Then, the answer is simple, isn’t it?”

His voice was no longer full of anger, but of resignation.

“Nothing is simple when it comes to you, Joey. Not one damn thing.”

He raised his hand and brushed a finger over the scar on her lower lip. “Say it? Say you’ll do whatever you have to, for the sake of our son. I want to hear you say it.”

If she refused him this time, she might never see Nicci again. Never hold him, or hear his sweet voice call her “Mama.” Life wouldn’t be worth living without her son, and she was sure Joey had figured that out. He knew he had her boxed into a corner. A very tight corner.

Her chin quivered, but Rhea kept it up, anyway. “Okay, Joey,” she whispered. “I get to care for Nicci, and—”

“I get whatever I want.”

There was more silence. Rhea’s chin continued to tremble, and Joey’s eyes bored into her as if he was waiting for her to change her mind. But she wasn’t going to, and when another minute passed, he dropped his hand and stepped back.

“There’s an empty bedroom across the hall from Niccolo’s room. You can move your things in there. Tomorrow morning, meet me in the sunroom at seven sharp. I’ll tell the cook she has the morning off. Two eggs, three strips of bacon, juice and coffee, Rhea. Questions?”

She shook her head.

He turned and swung the door open. “Gates, Ms. Williams is moving again. Get somebody downstairs to pack her things.”

“And where will she be moving to, sir?”

Rhea heard several graphic words, all of them in Italian. Then, “Where do you think, Gates?”

“Sir?”

More Italian. “Get her suitcases up here within the hour, Gates. Capiche?”

Joey headed for the Stardust Bar on the tenth floor of Masado Towers, intent on getting drunk. The idea behind the Open Twenty-Four Hours sign out front was to give the night owls a place to light—all night long, if need be.

With half-moon shaped booths in midnight-blue leather and a million neon stars scattered on a black ceiling, the atmosphere echoed the eclectic food and drinks, especially the latter, with names like Midnight Sun, Pink Cloud and the famous Moonshot.

As Joey stepped inside, he saw Lucky and Jackson seated at a corner table. Flagging a waitress, he ordered a double scotch, then slid into the booth.

“Who’s watching Niccolo?”

Joey scowled at his brother. “You know damn well who’s up there with him. Why in the hell did you stick your nose in my business? I was handling things.”

“You were handling things, all right.” Lucky turned to Jackson. “You should have seen it, Jacky. Joey was in the bathtub with his shoes on, juggling my screaming nephew like he was a slippery eel. Mio fratello can make a hundred grand a day pushing buttons on his computer, but when it comes to—”

“Shut up, Lucky.”

When Jackson chuckled, Joey nailed his best friend with an ugly look. “I don’t want to hear what you’re thinking. Save it until I’m in a better mood.”

Jackson schooled his grin. “I wasn’t going to say anything, Joe.”

“Like hell you weren’t.”

“Well, maybe I was going to make one small comment. An observation.”

“Just one?”

“Yeah, one. I was going to say, I’m glad it’s you and not me. Becoming an overnight father, I mean.” Jackson glanced at Lucky. “Did you get pictures? Nicci’s first bath with Daddy? We could put them on Ma’s conversation wall at Caponelli’s.”

Joey swore, then reached for the glass of scotch before the waitress could set it down. After he’d inhaled it, he said, “Let’s get drunk.”

“Drunk?” Lucky grinned. “Hell, yes. Let’s. It always makes me feel better.”

Jackson elbowed Lucky. “Joey doesn’t need to get drunk. Neither do you.”

“Yes, I do,” Joey argued. “I just moved Rhea into the penthouse.”

Joey ignored Jackson’s shocked look and reached for his drink. When he realized it was empty, he looked at Lucky, who appeared more surprised than Jackson. “Get me another bottle, Lucky. No, get two.”

After Lucky gestured toward the waitress and held up two fingers, he said, “Things are never black and white. This morning you wanted revenge. Obviously, after getting a good look at Rhea, you’ve decided on something a little more uplifting.” His rugged mouth curved into a wry grin. “Hell, I can’t blame you for that. Those photos didn’t do her justice. Must have been a poor job of develop—”

“Shut up, Lucky.” Joey rubbed the back of his neck, the day’s events giving him a helluva headache. “He’s afraid of water,” he said absently.

“Who’s afraid of water?” Jackson asked.

“Niccolo. That’s what started this whole mess tonight. There was some kind of accident at Santa Palazzo.” Joey shoved a fifty-dollar bill at the waitress when she brought the two bottles of scotch. “Niccolo was on the beach with Rhea and somehow he was dragged under water.” He looked over at Jackson. His friend’s grin was gone, and so was the mischief in his green eyes. “You’re sure Stud Williams is on his way to prison, right?”

Jackson nodded. “He confessed yesterday.”

“At least that’s one problem solved. I don’t need to worry about him with Rhea back in town.”

“Sunni’s relieved, too,” Jackson offered.

Sunni Blais was Jackson’s soon-to-be wife. He’d been assigned to protect her a few weeks ago. It had been a scary couple of weeks, but in the midst of the craziness, Stud Williams had been charged with murder and Jackson and Sunni had managed to fall in love.

Lucky said, “Letting Rhea stay with Niccolo should make her happy.”

“Should I care if Rhea’s happy?” Joey didn’t mean for the question to be answered. “It’s Niccolo’s comfort level I’m concerned with. But right now, all he cares about is his teddy bear and his mama. You should have seen him when he laid eyes on Rhea. He just about flew out of my arms to get to her.”

“He was just scared, Joe,” Jackson reasoned.

“He was scared, all right. And I didn’t know what the hell to do or say to calm him down.”

“That’s not your fault,” Lucky argued.

Joey knew his brother and Jackson were trying to make him feel better, but it didn’t ease his stinging pride. “I thought I had it all figured out this morning. The nanny was going to start tomorrow, Rhea was in a room three floors down—and then all hell broke loose.”

“So maybe you shouldn’t have moved her in,” Lucky considered. “If you want Niccolo to start relying on you, then—”

“Rhea pointed out that I don’t know a damn thing when it comes to Niccolo’s needs. And she’s right. I don’t have a clue.”

“He’s a kid, Joe, not a high-tech robot,” Jackson pointed out. “How complicated can he be?”

Lucky motioned to Jackson. “We can help out.”

“So now you two are experts on how much juice my son needs to prevent constipation?”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Joey stole a cigarette from Lucky’s pack on the table and lit it. Taking a long drag, he reached for his glass of scotch. “You hear anything from Frank?”

“No. He’s still in Florida. They’ve got hurricane winds beating the coast. My guess is he’ll be knocking on your door sometime tomorrow if he can get his plane off the ground.”

Jackson let out a low whistle.

Joey thought it was in anticipation of his confrontation with his father, but as he followed his friend’s gaze to the bar entrance, he saw whom the whistle was meant for.

“Dammit.” Joey eyed Sophia D’Lano in royal-blue glitz, noting that the dress advertised her curves like a lit-up billboard for Viagra. “What else can go wrong tonight?”

The minute he’d spoken the words, she spied him and waved, then started over.

Lucky asked, “How do you want to play this? You plan on telling her you’re a daddy, or do we keep Niccolo and Rhea a secret for the time being? The latest rumor is that she’s determined to get you to the altar before New Year’s.”

Joey ground out the cigarette. “We don’t tell her a damn thing. Not until I talk to Frank.”

“What are you doing here, Joey?” Sophia arrived batting her long lashes and smiling like she’d just had her teeth cleaned. “Your secretary told me you were out of town.”

“I was.” Joey stood, leaned forward and kissed Sophia’s flawless cheek.

She glanced at Lucky and Jackson, then at the empty seat. “It looks like there’s room for one more.” She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes at Joey. Turning slightly, she made sure her breasts brushed his arm. “I haven’t seen you in days. Let’s catch up.”

Joey stepped aside and allowed Chicago’s mafia princess to slide into the booth, then sat down beside her. Since their breakup, Sophia had been inching her way back into his life. But for the past three months, she’d been pushing harder than ever. He admitted that she was beautiful, with rich caramel eyes and sooty black hair that fell past her shoulders, but he’d never envisioned himself marrying her.

“So was it business or pleasure?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your trip?” Sophia licked her lips. “Your secretary didn’t say. You’re not hiding some big dark secret, are you?”

Jackson choked on his beer, while Lucky almost bit in half the cigarette he was lighting. But Sophia didn’t notice. She was too busy situating herself closer to Joey so he could look down the front of her dress.

The waitress came and took Sophia’s drink order. Two Moonshots later, she was snuggled close to Joey, purring in his ear. Thirty minutes later, Jackson excused himself, claiming he had to go home and rescue Sunni from Mac—Mac being Jackson’s once K-9 partner who was now retired and spent most of his time on the sofa watching Westminster and dreaming about a long-legged greyhound with an attitude.