Книга - Security Measures

Security Measures
Joanna Wayne


APB DADDY! Beautiful, widowed, a single mother - Janice Stevens had been given a new identity, if not a new lease on life, when she testified against a mob killer.For fifteen years she'd lived anonymously, raising her daughter - until Vincent Magilinti showed up on her doorstep claining what was his: his child and her heart. But will both turn up dead-on-arrival when vengeance is finnaly exacted?









He burst into her life in an explosion of passion and she’d fallen for him instantly and hard


Images from the past became so real, Janice could almost touch and taste them. Vincent, tanned and gorgeous, just home from college for the summer. She’d become infatuated with him at first sight, mesmerized by his dark eyes and the cocky confidence that characterized his every move. He’d been so different than the boys she was used to, he could have come from another planet.

He’d kissed her that first night in the moonlight. How he’d kissed her! She’d thought she was simply going to die when he pulled away. Impulsively her fingers went to her lips. But that was all before that night fifteen years ago, before she was pregnant….




CAST OF CHARACTERS


Janice Stevens/Candy Owens —Forced to change her identity after testifying in a murder trial, she will do anything to keep her daughter from ever knowing her biological father.

Vincent Magilinti —He’s a wanted man, but his only concerns are for the daughter he’s never met and the woman he can’t forget.

Kelly Stevens —At fourteen, she’s a typical adolescent—spunky, curious and wants to do everything her friends do. She can’t understand why her mother is so paranoid.

Byron Hasselbeck —A friend that Kelly met in an Internet chat room.

Ken Levine —The U.S. Sheriff in charge of protecting Janice and Kelly.

Tyrone Magilinti —Vincent Magilinti’s cousin who was recently released from prison.

Vincent Magilinti, Sr. —Head of the mob, who was murdered in a massacre in his house on St. Charles Avenue over fourteen years ago.

Joel Pinanski —The one man Vincent thinks he can trust.

Rico —An ex-mobster who worked with Vincent’s father.

Mush Face —One of the kidnappers.




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Joanna Wayne lives with her husband just a few miles from steamy, exciting New Orleans, but her home is in the perfect writer’s hideaway. A lazy bayou, complete with graceful herons, colorful wood ducks and an occasional alligator, winds just below her back garden. When not creating tales of spine-tingling suspense and heart-warming romance, she enjoys reading, traveling, playing golf and spending time with family and friends.

Joanna believes that one of the special joys of writing is knowing that her stories have brought enjoyment to or somehow touched the lives of her readers. You can write Joanna at P.O. Box 2851, Harvey, LA 70059-2851.




Security Measures





Joanna Wayne





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue




Chapter One


“You never want me to have any fun. Never. You’re so paranoid, you hardly let me out of your sight. If my father were living, I bet you wouldn’t be so mean to me!”

Her daughter’s words echoed through Janice Stevens’s mind, searing a path straight to her heart. She could blame a lot of Kelly’s outbursts these days on adolescence and the surge of hormones coursing through her ever-changing body, but tonight’s blowup had hit too close to home.

Janice buried her toes in the sand as the cooling night breezes kicked up her skirt, then plastered it to her thighs. She’d looked forward to this week on North Carolina’s Outer Banks for months, envisioned it as the perfect opportunity for her to spend some quality time with Kelly.

The week had gone fairly well until tonight, though occasional sparks had flown. Tonight had started out well. They’d gone out for burgers and shakes, then taken a long walk on the beach before settling in to watch a movie from the extensive collection in the rented beach house.

Kelly had capitalized on the camaraderie by pleading her case to go to New Orleans one more time. Her school swim team had done exceptionally well this year, and they’d qualified for a Super Regional Meet in New Orleans. Her coach was taking eight of the top swimmers to the meet, preceded by a five-day sightseeing visit to New Orleans and the surrounding area.

All the other parents had giving their permission. Janice would sooner have let Kelly take a trip to Hades than to have her set one foot inside the city limits of New Orleans, especially now that Tyrone Magilinti had been paroled.

Janice hugged her windbreaker tighter and studied the shimmering band of moonlight that danced across the surface of the water. The setting was peaceful; her emotions were anything but. All she had to do was think of New Orleans, and the terrifying memories started riding roughshod over her nerves.

But she couldn’t explain that to Kelly. She’d spent her life protecting her daughter from the lingering horrors of that long-ago night. She certainly wouldn’t toss her to the demons now.

She started back to the house. Her cell phone rang. The caller ID said Ken Levine. Her already low mood took a nosedive. The U.S. Marshal in charge of her protection never called with good news.

“Hello, Ken. Tell me you called to see how my vacation was going.”

“I wish. I hate to hit you with this tonight, but I knew you’d want to know.”

Dread swelled in her chest. “Is it Tyrone?”

“No. It’s Vincent Magilinti.”

Vincent. She swallowed hard, hit by a new wave of dread and a tangle of confusing emotions that all but stole her breath. “What about Vincent?”

“He broke out of Angola last night.”

She exhaled slowly and shuddered. “How did that happen?”

“He was on kitchen duty. Some guy making deliveries had a seizure. In the commotion, Vincent sneaked into the back of the guy’s panel truck and hid in a big crate of sweet potatoes. The guard didn’t miss him until it was too late.”

“What do I do?”

“Nothing yet. As far as we can tell, both Vincent and his cousin Tyrone bought the story that you and Kelly are dead. You’ve been living peacefully for twelve years. No reason to think you can’t go on that way.”

“We lived peacefully when Tyrone and Vincent were in prison. They’re out now.”

“You’re right, but like I said, we have no reason to believe they think you’re alive. Even if they did, I doubt they’d have the money or the inclination to seek revenge at this point in their lives.”

“But their cronies might do it on their behalf.”

“Not likely. When Vince Sr. died and Tyrone and Vincent went to prison, the Mob fell under new leadership, and that’s been evolving over the past few years. Word is the new kingpin doesn’t want anything to do with the Magilintis.”

“More reason for Tyrone and Vincent to nurse their grudge against me.”

“Their grudge is against Candy Owens. She’s dead.”

Ken made it sound as if the prison break was no reason for concern, but she wasn’t buying the story. “I know you too well, Ken. If you were convinced there is no chance of danger, you wouldn’t have called.”

“Just a precaution.”

Yeah. Like a tornado watch or a hurricane warning is just a precaution. If it doesn’t hit, you’re fine. If it does, heaven help you.

“I’ll keep you posted,” Ken continued. “The authorities will probably have Vincent back in custody in a matter of days.”

“A lot can happen in a matter of days.”

“But no reason to think that it will.”

His voice was smooth and calm, no doubt designed to keep her from flying into a panic. Ken was good at that. If she’d had a father, she’d have wanted him to be like Ken. Instead, she’d fashioned Kelly’s fictional father after the genial marshal, only she’d made him much younger, of course.

Ken was in his mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, receding in front and thinning on top and always needing a trim. He was six feet plus of muscle and very little excess fat. He was a man’s man, but he had a gentle way about him when she least expected it.

She trusted his judgment implicitly. If he said go back to Illinois, she’d go to Illinois. If he said stay at the beach, she’d stay. If he said run for the hills, she’d run.

“How is the vacation going?” he asked.

“Fine when my daughter isn’t lashing out at me for being controlling and paranoid. And that was before I had Vincent Magilinti to worry about.”

“You don’t know how I hated to make this call.”

She sank into herself, feeling as vulnerable as the grains of sand being tossed about by the wind and washed away with the tide. “I have another week off,” she said. “I’d planned to spend it at home. Should I risk that?”

“Unless I get back in touch with you and tell you differently. Just go on with your life as usual. And ease up on Kelly. She’s a good kid and once she gets past adolescence, she’ll be human again.”

“I’m counting on that.”

“Now, try to enjoy the rest of your vacation. If there’s anything you need, give me a call. I’m always here.”

“How about making Kelly and me invisible for a few weeks?”

“I did. Candy and Nicole Owens are dead and buried. You are the beautiful widow Janice Stevens who has resettled in Chicago with your daughter Kelly.”

“You make it all sound so workable.”

“Making it work is my job. Yours is to enjoy your vacation.”

“You got it.”

“Later.”

And that was that. But the nebulous dread continued as she trudged back to the beach house. Dread and the frightening premonition that she hadn’t seen the last of Vincent Magilinti.



THE FRENCH QUARTER looked the same as it had fifteen years ago. Even the wino sleeping it off on the street across from Jackson Square could be the same. A group of college-age guys and girls crossed the street and walked past him, laughing and talking loud as if it were three o’clock in the afternoon instead of three in the morning. Fifteen years ago, Vincent might have been one of the revelers; tonight, he was a man on the run.

It was risky to be here in the Quarter, but he was in desperate need of money and a vehicle. Vincent staggered as if he were drunk, then ducked into the dark corner bar and took a seat near the back. In less than a minute, another drunk, this one tall and burly, joined him at the table.

“Buy me a drink, buddy?” He hiccupped loudly and almost missed the chair as he slid into it.

“Sure.”

A couple at the bar started singing “Blueberry Hill.” A few other patrons joined in, all off-key.

“You look good for an escapee,” Rico whispered as he passed Vincent a key under the table. “Car’s a late-model, black two-door Ford parked on Rampart across from the Saenger. Money, car registration and an ID are in the glove compartment.”

“Did you get the tools?”

“They’re in a blue duffel in the trunk.”

“Thanks.”

The waiter walked by but ignored them, probably figuring they’d had enough to drink.

“You’re not driving to Chicago to look up Candy and the kid, are you?”

“Not a chance. As far as I’m concerned, they really are dead.”

“So where are you heading?”

“As far away from Angola as I can get.”

“You going to see Tyrone before you leave town?”

“Why should I?”

“He’s your cousin.”

“He didn’t do me any favors at the trial. I’m cutting out of here as soon as I walk out that door. I’m starting a new life.”

“I hope you make it. One drink before you go?”

“Yeah. Coffee. I’ve got to stay alert.”

Rico slammed a fist into the top of the bar. “What do you have to do get service in here?”

The waiter ambled over. “Name your poison.”

“I’ll take a scotch on the rocks,” he said, letting his voice slur a bit. “Give my buddy here a coffee. He’s had a few too many.”

“You have, too, if you’re driving.”

“Hell, no, I’m not driving. I got me a room right on Bourbon Street.”

“Good for you. Drinks are coming up.”

The waiter looked to be about twenty, a couple of years younger than Vincent had been when all hell had broken loose and life as he’d known it had exploded in a burst of machine-gun fire and flowing blood.

Now he was thirty-seven and felt as if he were a hundred. Prison did that to you. Yanked those rose-colored glasses of youth off your nose and crushed them under the feet of hundreds of brawny, tattooed thugs who all wanted to prove they were tougher than you.

The coffee was thick guck, heavy on the chicory. Vincent drank it quickly, then nodded and headed for the bathroom. When he came out, Rico was gone. Vincent put a few bills on the table and slipped out the door. Fifteen years had been a long time. He wondered if Candy Owens would recognize him.

He’d find out soon enough.




Chapter Two


Janice glanced at the clock on the dashboard as she pulled into the driveway of her home in the Chicago suburbs. Seven-thirty. Not bad timing, considering that they’d sat in stalled traffic for over an hour after a wreck on the interstate.

Kelly roused herself from the rap-induced coma she’d been in for the past hour, pulled the headphones from her ears and had the car door open by the time Janice came to a complete stop.

“Grab some luggage,” Janice reminded her.

“Mom.”

Kelly managed to stretch the word into three syllables, registering her irritation. “Why do we have to unload the car this minute?”

“Surely you can walk into the house with a couple of suitcases.”

“I will, but I was going to see Gayle first. I haven’t seen anyone in a week.”

“You’ve seen me, and I was someone last time I checked.”

“You know what I mean. Besides she’s leaving for New Orleans first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, but don’t be too long. Gayle’s mother picked up our mail for us this week, so bring that home with you.”

Janice watched her daughter barely skim the grass in her haste to visit her best friend and next-door neighbor. The two girls would have had to have been joined at the hip to be any more inseparable. Janice was thankful Gayle lived so close and that her mother was almost as protective of Kelly as Janice was.

In fact, Gayle’s mother was as close to a real friend as Janice dared to have. She and Joy Ann didn’t actually do anything together, but they chatted at the mailbox and occasionally shared a cup of coffee discussing the trials of living with a teenage daughter.

Reaching back into the car, Janice grabbed her keys from the ignition. She unlocked the back door to the house, then retrieved a box of grocery items from the SUV. The odors of coffee and overripe bananas mingled in her nostrils as she carried the box inside and set it on the counter.

Only there shouldn’t be a smell of coffee. They’d used the last of the grounds that morning and she’d thrown the empty bag away. She glanced at the coffeemaker. The light was on. Apprehension swelled on cue.

“Hello, Candy.”

Damn. She lunged for one of the kitchen knives in the wooden block. Vincent caught her from behind before she could. His fingers tightened around her wrists. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

She tried to jerk away from him, but he held on tight, pulling her to him so that her back was pressed into his chest and his breath was hot on the back of her neck.

He released his grip slowly, and she turned, gulping in a quick breath of air as she got her first look at what almost fourteen years in prison did to a man.

He’d been so young before, Hollywood handsome and boyishly seductive, with his mischievous smile and dark, dancing eyes. He was still handsome, but the lines in his face were hard and his chin looked as if it had been carved in granite. The muscles in his arms were more pronounced and his dark hair was cut so short, it barely covered his scalp. A scar ran from just below his left ear to under his jaw.

Only his eyes were still the same. Piercing. Mesmerizing. She shuddered and looked away.

“How did you get here?”

“I drove. The car’s parked in your backyard.”

Out of sight because he knew she’d have noticed a strange car parked in the driveway. “How did you know where to find me?” Her mind was already jumping ahead, thinking of how she could protect Kelly.

“Anybody can be found if someone really wants to find them.”

“They had my funeral.”

“I know. That was a smart move. I didn’t buy it, but then prisoners tend to be a cynical bunch. And here you are, sweet little Candy Owens, alive and kicking in Illinois.”

“The name is Janice Stevens now. How did you get in without setting off the alarm?”

“Alarms only keep out honest people and stupid burglars.”

“And you’re neither.”

“Right. So where’s my daughter?”

She’d never told Vincent she was pregnant, but the investigation and the pretrial hoopla had been in full swing while she was carrying Kelly. News reporters had dogged her every step, asking her if the baby she was expecting was a Magilinti. She’d denied it vehemently.

“If it had been your daughter I was pregnant with, I wouldn’t have kept her.”

His muscles flexed; for a second, she thought he was going to slug her, but he exhaled slowly. “I’ve been here for two days. I’ve seen her room. I’ve seen snapshots of her. Nicole, or whatever you call her now, is a Magilinti.”

“I call her by her name. Her name is Kelly Stevens.” She’s pretty. Smart, too, and a good swimmer. I saw her academic achievement awards on the wall of the den and the swimming trophies in her room. You’ve done well with her.”

The compliment got to her. So did his voice. It had deepened some over the years, but she’d have recognized it anywhere. Old memories rushed into her mind and she went weak.

She couldn’t let him do this to her. No matter what they had been before, he was the enemy now. She’d testified for the prosecuting attorney at his trial. She’d seen the gun in his hand the night of the bloody massacre that had left his father dead.

The fear hit again, like a white-hot pain searing into her heart. “If you’re here to kill me, then do it, but don’t hurt Kelly. She never did anything to you. She doesn’t even know you exist.”

“Why would I kill you? As far as I’m concerned, the woman I knew fifteen years ago is dead. I’m here for my daughter. That’s it.”

“If you want to do something for your daughter, walk away. She thinks her father is dead, Vincent. She thinks he’s a hero.”

“And I once thought her mother was an angel. People get over those early illusions.”

“How will you explain to her that you’re an escaped convict?”

“I won’t. Not yet. You’re Janice Stevens. I’m Vincent Jones, a friend of her father’s.”

“You can’t stay here. This will be one of the first places the Feds look.”

“That’s a chance I have to take.”

“Why? Why take that chance? You’re out of prison. Keep running, just don’t stay here. Don’t put Kelly in danger.”

“Look at me, Janice.”

She turned away.

His grip tightened. “I said look at me. I’m not here to hurt Kelly. I’m here to protect her.”

“The only danger comes from you, Vincent.”

“No. It comes from my cousin, Tyrone Magilinti. He knows where you are, and he has plans to kill the both of you.”

His tone was deadly serious. Icy chills snaked up her spine. “He’s been out of prison for three weeks.

He’s made no move to hurt us.”

“But he will. He’s planned his revenge for years.”

“If that’s true, we have to tell the police. I work with a U.S. Marshal. He’ll know how to handle this.”

“You can’t call the police and you can’t tell the marshal. Get them involved, and he’ll put this off until you think you’re safe again. The police will let down their guard. They always do. He knows that.”

“Okay, you stay here. But let me take Kelly away. Please, let me take her somewhere safe.”

“Listen to me. If I wanted to hurt you or Kelly, I’d do it now.” He slid a gun from a holster under his shirt. “All I’d have to do is fire this. I’m here to protect Kelly. If you run, he’ll find you. If you stay with me, I can protect her. I know Tyrone. I know how he thinks. He’s evil to the core, but I know his weaknesses.”

She looked up and met his burning gaze again. He was deadly serious. She didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to believe Tyrone had already planned her and Kelly’s execution. But there was no way to look into Vincent’s eyes and not believe he was telling the truth. And if he was, did she dare send him away and trust the police to save her from Tyrone?

“Let me save my daughter, Candy. Then I’ll walk out of your life and never bother you again. I promise.”

“And you won’t tell her that you’re her father?”

“No. Your identity is safe with me.”

“Then don’t call me Candy. The name is Janice.”

“Janice it is.”

There wasn’t time to say more. Any other night, Janice would have had to call and ask Joy Ann to send Kelly home, but tonight she was at the door that led to the garage with both hands wrapped around a towel encased casserole dish. A plastic grocery bag was hooked over her wrist, mail spilling out the top.

“I could use some help here.”

Vincent went to her aid. Janice stood frozen to the spot, paralyzed as Kelly came face-to-face with her father for the first time. Kelly stared at him critically; Janice held her breath, waiting for the worst, half expecting that Kelly would feel some kind of weird bond and figure it all out. But she handed him the food and went right back to talking.

“Mrs. Givens made an extra chicken potpie so you wouldn’t have to cook tonight. It’s still hot.”

“That was thoughtful.” Her voice was too shaky. If she didn’t get some control, she’d never be able to pull this off.

Kelly tossed the mail to the kitchen table, then looked from Janice to Vincent. “So, who are you, anyway?”

“He’s a family friend,” Janice said, this time managing to keep her voice more steady.

“We have family friends? News to me.”

“Actually I’m a friend of your father’s.”

“Shut up! For real?”

“For real. I’m Vincent Jones, and you must be Kelly.”

“That’s me. Well, my name is Elizabeth Kelly, but everyone calls me Kelly.”

“It fits.”

“Did you really know my dad?”

“Very well. We grew up together.”

“How come I never heard of you before?”

“Good question.”

“Was my dad as handsome as Mom says he was?”

“Your mother said he was handsome?”

“Yeah. A hunkster.”

“Kelly, why don’t you bring in the rest of the luggage,” Janice said.

“I’ll help you,” Vincent said.

“Fantastic! And you have to stay for dinner. Mrs. Givens makes a to-die-for chicken potpie, not like that frozen junk you buy at the market.”

“Sounds delicious.”

Janice just stood there watching the two of them connect like old friends. She’d spent the past fourteen years praying Kelly would never know the monster whose blood ran through her veins.

Now the monster had escaped from prison and was moving in. Heaven help them all.



KELLY’S CELL PHONE RANG. She answered it, then left Vincent and Candy alone in the kitchen. Only she wasn’t Candy anymore. She was Janice Stevens, a legal secretary and widowed mom living in Chicago, Illinois. But it wasn’t only her name that had changed. She acted different, talked different, even looked different.

His chest tightened as the familiar image of her the night they’d met filled his mind. He’d walked out the back door of his father’s house on St. Charles Avenue, and there she was, dancing in the moonlight.

There was no music, and she’d had no partner. She was just pirouetting in a white halter dress that swirled about her shapely legs and slender hips. Her curly, blond hair had flown about, wild and tousled and… His body hardened, and he struggled to push the memories away.

“I liked your hair blond—and curly,” he said, letting the comment slip out before he thought about it.

“Janice Stevens never had blond hair. Her hair is mousy brown and posterboard straight.”

The kind of woman who’d fade into the back ground. That must be what she was going for. That explained the long skirt that hid her great legs and the loose blouse that camouflaged her full breasts. “Does Janice Stevens have a significant other?” Not that he gave a damn, except that it would com plicate what he had to do.

“No, she’s devoted to the memory of her late husband, a firefighter who died in the line of duty.”

“The hunkster?”

She knotted her hands into fists. “This may sound like some big joke to you, but I’m making it work, Vincent, for me and for Kelly.”

“Making it work. That’s not quite the same as being happy.”

“I’m happy enough. And so is your daughter. And if you have a shred of decency, you won’t do anything to spoil the image she has of her dead father.”

“It would surprise you if I had a shred of decency in me, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you have inside you. I never really knew you.”

“You’re right. You never knew me, and apparently I never knew you.”

“How did you and Tyrone find out the deaths were faked?”

“Bribes. Favors. Blackmail. The Magilinti way.”

“And if all else fails, there’s violence.”

“That, too.”

“And yet you expect me to believe you.”

“Unless you’re willing to risk Kelly’s life on the bet that she’s safer without me around. But if you do, I’ll take Kelly and run with her. I’ll keep her safe, one way or another, with you or without you.”

She shuddered, and he clenched his hands into fists, fighting a totally insane need to comfort her. Being with her was already messing up his mind and his emotions. He’d have to keep his guard up every second. He would not let her back into his heart.

The tension was as thick and as bitter as stale coffee by the time Kelly bounded back into the kitchen.

“So are we eating are what?” Kelly asked. “I’m starved.”

“Me, too,” Vincent said. “I’ll make a salad to go with the potpie.”

Janice started to say there were no ingredients for a salad, but Vincent was already at the refrigerator pulling out fresh leafy salad greens and a large ripe tomato. He’d apparently stocked their refrigerator and made himself at home.

Now he was moving about her kitchen almost as proficiently as she did, pulling out a salad bowl and a knife for slicing the tomato. And Kelly, who never helped without being asked, was setting the table for three.

Vincent Magilinti had moved back into her life as effortlessly as he had the first time. Only this time she wouldn’t thrill to his touch. She wouldn’t burn with desire from his kisses. She wouldn’t make love to him so passionately that she cried.

She wouldn’t let him destroy her life or Kelly’s. He’d done that one too many times already.



KELLY KICKED OFF her shoes and dropped to the chair in front of her computer. She was glad her father’s friend was going to hang out with them for a day or two, but thankful she didn’t have to give him her room. She could do without her bed but not her computer.

Vincent was sleeping on the daybed in the room her mother used for an office. It was between her bedroom and her mother’s. Her mother had wanted Kelly to take that room as her bedroom, but she’d talked her into this one. She liked being at the back of the house and away from her mother, who was always complaining that she played her music too loud.

She had mail, but it could wait. She hit a couple of keys and when the right screen came up, she logged into a chat room. She’d caught the tail end of a chat about a new video earlier tonight. She wanted to see if anyone knew the name of the guy in the black leather pants. He was cute.

A second later, an instant message popped up from Byron. She moved her cursor to the reply field and started typing.



We got back tonight. And we have company, a friend of my father’s. He’s pretty cool. Handsome, too, but I don’t think my mom likes him. She hardly talks to him at all.



Mothers can be weird.



Tell me about it. Is yours working tonight?



No, but she’s not home. I got some news, too.



What kind of news?



Big news. I’m getting a truck. Meet me and I’ll tell you about it.



Mom’s not going to let me out this late.



Tell her you’re going to Gayle’s like you always do.



She’ll say it’s after ten.



Then sneak out. You’ve done it before.



Yeah, but I’m always scared I’ll get caught.



I’ll be at the park in fifteen minutes. I really need to see you. C’mon, Kelly. Don’t let me down.



I’ll try.



She logged off the computer, then threw herself across the bed. She had to give this some serious thought. She liked Byron a lot, but she didn’t want to get into trouble. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t going to get to go to New Orleans even if she was an angel.

A new truck was a big deal.

And it wasn’t as if it were midnight or something. It was only ten after ten. Some of her friends got to stay out until eleven o’clock when they went to the skating rink. After all, they were starting high school this year.

Kelly waited ten minutes, then opened her bedroom window. The rest of the house was wired so that if any door opened after her mother set the alarm, a loud buzzer would go off. Kelly had found out how to disconnect the wires from her window in a chat room over the Internet.

Everything you could possibly want to know was floating around somewhere in cyberspace. All you had to do was find it. And what she couldn’t find, Byron could. He was the smartest high school boy she knew. Actually, he was the only high school boy she knew very well, but still, she knew he was smart. Might even be a genius.

He didn’t have a dad, either. Well, he did, but he never saw him. He didn’t see much of his mother. She worked nights as a waitress out at a truck stop on the edge of town. Byron worked there some, too. But he wasn’t going to do it much longer. As soon as he turned eighteen, he was going to split.

She released the catch on the screen and eased it out, leaning it against the house so that it didn’t fall into the grass. Fortunately, the air-conditioning unit was next to her window and very noisy. Her window was on the opposite side of the house from her mother’s bedroom.

Still, her heart beat really fast when she sneaked out like this. If her mother caught her, she’d be deader than roadkill. Holding her breath, she swung her legs over the edge of the sill and dropped the few feet to the ground below.

The streetlight in front of their house was out, but there was enough moonlight for Kelly to sneak behind the red-tipped hedge at the side of the house and creep out to the street. It was only three short blocks to the park where she was going to meet Byron. She really wanted to talk to him tonight, and not just because she’d been gone for a week or to hear about the truck he was getting.

Kelly wanted to talk about why her mother acted the way she did. Mom should be excited to have a good friend of Kelly’s dad visiting with them. But she wasn’t. Anyone could tell that. Yet she’d invited him to stay with them and they’d never had an over night guest, unless you counted Kelly’s girlfriends.

She picked up her pace once she reached the corner.

Only she had the strange feeling someone was following her. A second later, she knew she was right.




Chapter Three


“Out for a walk?”

Kelly froze for a second, then spun around. But it was only Vincent. “Kind of,” she answered, then felt herself getting all tense. “Are you following me?”

“I heard you leave the house and I thought you might like company.”

“Only if you don’t go blabbing to Mom. If she finds out I sneaked out, she’ll ground me until I’m thirty.”

“You must be off on some exciting adventure to risk that.”

“Not really. I have this friend…” She hesitated. Vincent seemed all right—for an adult—but that didn’t mean she could trust him not to repeat any of this to her mother. “I couldn’t sleep so I decided to go for a walk.”

“To meet the friend? Don’t worry. I don’t squeal.”

“Yeah, I’m meeting a boy, but just to talk, you know?” She started walking again, and Vincent kept pace.

“Nice neighborhood for walking at night,” Vincent said. “Well lit. I guess it’s safe.”

“Real safe. Nothing ever happens around here.”

“You must have missed your school friends while you were on vacation.”

“Yeah, but Byron’s not exactly a school friend.”

“Just a neighborhood buddy, huh?”

“We’ll both be at the high school next year.”

“So, Byron’s older?”

“He’ll be a senior. He’s a lot more mature than the freshman boys.”

“I’ll bet. So, how did you meet Byron?”

“On the Internet. We were in a Lord of the Rings chat room, ’cause we both loved the movies.”

“Good books, too.”

“You read them?”

“The whole series, from beginning to end.”

“So did Byron. I don’t read that much, but I read the Harry Potter books. I like all that magic stuff.”

“I read those, too.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’ve had a lot of time to read lately. Does your mother disapprove of Byron? Is that why you sneak out?”

“You think I’d tell her about him? She disconnected me from the Internet for six months the last time she caught me in a chat room.”

“She’s pretty strict, huh?”

“Is she? You wouldn’t believe. It’s worse than being in prison.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“Believe me, it’s true. That’s why you have to promise not to tell her about Byron, or that I sneaked out of my room.”

“I’ll never tell—unless I think you’re in danger. Then all deals are off.”

“I’m not in danger. Byron’s a real nice boy.”

“That’s good to know, but I don’t think your going out at night without her permission is the right choice.”

“You would if you lived with someone who treats you like a two-year-old. What was your mom like?”

“She was terrific, but she died when I was too young to think about sneaking out of the house.”

“I don’t wish anything like that would happen. I love my mom. I just wish she’d ease up with the controlling bit. I bet my dad wasn’t like that.”

“He might have been with a teenage daughter.”

“How come Mom doesn’t like you?”

“You noticed, huh?”

“How could I miss it?”

“Maybe I bring back too many memories of your father.”

“Maybe, but it’s not just you. When I asked to go to the fire station in Charleston so that I could see where my father worked and meet some of the guys he worked with, she said it wasn’t a good idea. I’m beginning to think she didn’t like him very much.”

“I know he loved her and you.”

“That’s good to know. I was only two when he died, so I don’t remember anything about him. I have a picture of him that Mom gave me. He’s very handsome. I don’t look much like him, though.”

“You have his eyes.”

She smiled, and that surprised her. She hadn’t felt at all like smiling when she’d climbed out of her bedroom window. She’d been excited about seeing Byron, but they didn’t exactly have fun when they were together. Mostly they complained about their mothers and talked about how his life sucked.

“What’s Byron like?” Vincent asked, as if reading her mind.

“He’s kind of a loner, what I’d call a deep thinker.”

“What does he deep think about?”

“Life and everything.” Kelly crossed the street and turned the corner. The park was in the next block, and it backed up to some wooded lots. Mostly it was a baby park. A slide. A few swings. A climbing tower. The best part about it was a walking track that went through the woods and over a little stream. Byron lived beyond that.

“We meet in the park,” she said. “He’s probably already there. He jogs over.”

“I’d like to meet him, if that’s okay.”

“Sure. I already told him a friend of my father’s was visiting.” She led the way toward the swings. It was darker beneath the leafy branches of the oak trees, but enough moonlight filtered through so that she could see to stay on the worn path.

There was no sign of Byron, but she dropped into one of the swings anyway. Vincent took the one next to hers, the one where Byron usually sat. She’d never arrived at the park before Byron and never really realized how dark it was here. Now she was kinda glad Vincent had stuck around.

“What did my dad like to do when he was a kid?”

“He was a baseball nut. He loved playing it, watching it and collecting the cards. His favorite team was the Yankees and he had Yankees pennants all over his room.”

“I’ve never even been to a baseball game.”

“Every year for his birthday, your father’s dad took him to Yankee Stadium. It was the high point of his year. Easily beat out Christmas.”

“Wow! Every year, and I haven’t been to New York even once.”

“I should take you there.”

“Yeah, right, like my mother would let me go. She wouldn’t even trust God to take me out of town without her. If you look paranoid up in the dictionary, you’ll see her picture.”

But Kelly was getting a little worried herself now. Byron was always here when he said he’d be. “I can’t imagine what happened to my friend.”

“Maybe he saw me and ran off.”

“Could be, but… I don’t know. I’m starting to get a really weird feeling about this.” She looked around, not that she could see much.

“I have a cell phone. Would you like to call him?”

“Can’t. I don’t know his phone number. We only talk in chat rooms or by instant messages. I don’t even know his last name. He says names aren’t important. It’s only who you are inside that matters.”

“Then why don’t we walk back home and you can contact him.”

“Can we just walk down the path a little farther first and make sure he’s not on his way. He comes from the opposite direction as me, through the woodsy area.”

“I’m not much for walking in the woods at night.”

Coming through the woods didn’t bother Byron, and he wasn’t nearly as big and muscled as Vincent. Adults were so strange. She got out of the swing and left it yanking around on the chains. Vincent followed her.

When they reached the path, she stood on the edge and looked back down the way Byron would have come. A noise came from the woods, like someone was trying to muffle a cough.

“Byron. If that’s you, come on out.” If it was him, he didn’t answer.

Vincent stepped between her and the woods. “Let’s get out of here.” He took her arm and led her out of the park.

“I just wish I knew what happened to Byron.”

“I’m sure he’ll tell you in your next instant message.”

That’s when she saw the silver pistol in Vincent’s hand. She’d never seen one up close before. “Are you a cop or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think there was someone in the woods?”

“No. The weapon is just a precaution.”

“Have you ever killed a guy?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

Since he didn’t answer, she figured he had. Byron would be impressed when she told him that. Only she didn’t know why a cop with a gun would be afraid to walk in the woods, even if it was dark.



THE MESSAGE from Byron came less than a minute after Kelly had connected to her server.



I thought you were coming alone.



I was, but my dad’s friend saw me sneak out of the house and tagged along. Why did you run off?”



She waited. Sometimes instant messages weren’t all that instant. Finally the new message flashed on the screen. It didn’t explain why he’d run out on her.



So what’s the guy’s name?



Vincent Jones. He’s a cop. He carries a gun. I saw it.



I never trust cops.



She laughed and grabbed a quick gulp of her soda. That was soooo Byron. Then she started typing again.



You never trust anyone.



What did you tell him about me?



That you’re a deep thinker.



Is that all?



No, I told him you’re an ax murderer. What do you think I told him, silly?



I’m just checking. Don’t tell him anything else about me. He’ll just cause trouble for us.



He’s not like that.



I’ll bet.



What about tomorrow night? Want to try again? I’ll come by myself.



We’ll see.



He was pouting. She hated it when he acted like that, especially when she took all the risks of sneaking out. Her fingers flew across the keys.



Okay. I’m off to bed.



She chose a sleepy face from the graphics, sent it off and flicked off her monitor.

It was bad enough that all her friends were leaving for New Orleans without her tomorrow. She wasn’t going to stay awake just so Byron could make her feel bad about bringing Vincent along tonight.

Besides, that had to have been him she heard in the woods. That wasn’t bright at all, so maybe he wasn’t as smart as she thought. What if Vincent had shot him or something?

She yawned and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She stared at herself in the mirror, leaning in close and trying a couple of different looks. She had her father’s eyes. She wondered why her mother had never told her that.



JANICE ROLLED OVER as the first light of dawn crept into her bedroom. She sat up in bed, instantly alert even though it had been after 3:00 a.m. before she’d fallen asleep. A line of light crept under her bed room door, more than that cast by the night-light she left burning in the hall.

Someone was up, and she had no doubt that it was Vincent, roaming her house as if he belonged there. He’d always believed that whatever he wanted was his for the taking. Apparently prison hadn’t changed that.

She shuddered and touched the cool, hard surface of the phone. All she had to do was pick it up and call Ken Levine. He’d have cops at her door in a matter of minutes. They’d arrest Vincent and stick him right back behind bars where he belonged.

Then it would be just her and Kelly—and Tyrone.

The dark images of a horrible night hit with a rush and the darkness of the room transformed itself into a river of red. Blood pooled on the thick Persian rugs, splattered the walls and dripped from the ceilings. She could hear Tyrone Magilinti’s laugh and see the machine gun in his hand.

The images faded. She took her hand from the phone. Vincent was a Magilinti, too. He had been there that night as well, though she hadn’t seen him until the cops had busted their way inside the century-old mansion.

Her body stiffened when she heard footsteps in the hall outside her door and then a soft knock. Sliding from beneath the covers, she grabbed her white cotton robe from the foot of the bed. She padded across the floor and opened the door just a crack.

“I brought you coffee.”

She swallowed hard. There were two cups on the tray. And Vincent was standing there in jeans—no shirt, no shoes. His hair was still wet from the shower and a few drops of water clung to the dark curly hairs that speckled his chest.

Unexpected memories flooded her mind, but this time they were cruelly erotic. “Thanks,” she said, taking a cup from the tray, “but I prefer to have my coffee alone.”

“We need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“You really want to make this difficult, don’t you?”

His gall amazed her. “This is difficult, Vincent, but none of it is my making.”

He pushed his way past her, set the tray on the bedside table, then went back and closed and locked the bedroom door. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m going to give it to you straight.”

She pulled her robe tighter, suddenly chilled through and through. “I thought you said all you had to say last night.”

“I’ve learned more since then.”

“Like what?”

“Kelly left the house last night after you went to bed.”

Her suspicions soared. “You’re lying. Kelly would never do that. Whatever you’re trying to do here, it’s not going to work.”

“She went out her window.”

“I set the alarm before I went to bed. If she’d opened her window, it would have gone off and I would have heard it.”

“Apparently she’s bypassed the alarm system some way.”

“She wouldn’t know how.”

“Then someone did it for her. Check the window. See for yourself.”

She didn’t want to believe him, yet he was either telling the truth, or he was a very good liar. “Why would she go out that late?”

“Look, I know this is disturbing, but it will be better if you let me say what I have to say without arguing with me.”

She took a long sip of the coffee. It didn’t do a thing for soothing her nerves. “I’m listening.”

“I was doing a routine check of the outside of the house when I saw Kelly climbing out of her bedroom window. She didn’t see me, so I followed her out to the street, then joined her. I walked with her to the park, where she was supposed to meet a friend named Byron. He didn’t show, but I think he was there and ran away when he saw me.”

Janice dropped to the edge of the bed, not wanting to believe Vincent, but afraid to discount his story. Kelly had been so rebellious of late; Janice worried that she might be taking up with the wrong crowd at school. “I’ve never heard her mention anyone named Byron.”

“She met him through an Internet chat room.”

“I’ve forbidden her to ever talk to strangers on the Internet.” Fear and aggravation melded and made Janice’s voice a lot shakier than she’d intended. “She deliberately broke my rules.”

“She’s a teenager,” Vincent said. “It comes with the territory. You surely remember that.”

She ignored his last remark. “I’ll take care of it from here.”

“You can’t tell Kelly that I told you this.”

“Surely you don’t think you can tell me how to discipline my daughter.”

“I told her I wouldn’t squeal on her. It’s better if she thinks she can trust me in this.”

“I will not have her sneaking out to meet some boy she met on the Internet.”

“I think it could be a lot worse than that.”

“Worse?”

“I think Tyrone could be behind this. I’m not sure how or why, but the relationship sounds suspicious. It started just after Tyrone was released on parole. It could have been Tyrone’s way of locating her or of finding out about her schedule and habits. I’ll look into it, but you have to work with me and not go blowing Kelly’s trust in me.”

She raked her fingers through her hair, pushing the blunt ends behind her ears. The irony of his words grated on her nerves. He was a convicted felon, yet he talked about trust as if it were an integral part of his dealings.

“I’ll need some time alone in Kelly’s room to check some things on her computer. I’ll ask if I can check my e-mail, but you’ll need to keep her busy so that she doesn’t come in while I’m snooping.”

“I don’t want you in her room, and…” Her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. Ken. Could he possibly know Vincent was here?

“I have to answer that,” she said.

Vincent took the phone from her and checked the caller ID for himself. “The Justice Department?”

“It’s probably the marshal who’s handling my case,” she said, knowing he’d surely figured that out for himself.

“Answer it, but don’t say anything to let him know that I’m here.”

She took the call. “Hello.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“I’m awake.”

“I have a bit of bad news.”

“What is it?”

“They haven’t apprehended Vincent, and they suspect that he may have left the area. But they have Tyrone under surveillance just in case Vincent tries to see him. There’s been no change in Tyrone’s behavior. He’s reporting for work every day and staying close to home at night.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

“Damn good. We know Tyrone’s not a threat. I’m more concerned about Vincent, though.”

“Why is that?”

“I looked over his prison records. The last psychological evaluation of him indicates he’s delusional at times.”

“Meaning what?”

“He doesn’t have a firm grasp on reality. That’s all it said.”

Delusional, meaning all his fears about Tyrone could be groundless.

“Are you okay?”

Far from it, but she didn’t dare give that away, not with Vincent glaring at her and listening to every word she said. “I’m fine.”

“Call me if you need anything or if you hear from Vincent. Though like I said, there’s no reason to indicate he knows you’re alive.”

None, except that he was standing in her bedroom, telling her disturbing tales about Kelly.

“Later.”

“Yeah, later.”

She broke the connection and turned back to Vincent. She expected him to bombard her with questions about the call, but apparently he was satisfied that she hadn’t given his presence away.

“I’ll get out of here and leave you alone,” he said, picking up the tray. “But no funny stuff.”

“No funny stuff.”

“I mean it. I don’t care what your marshal friend says. Tyrone may have convinced him he’s gone straight, but I know him too well. He’s out for revenge. Turn me in, and you and Kelly don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out of this alive.”

Vincent’s words ricocheted around in her brain like stray bullets, hitting old and new fears at random and making her blood run icy cold.



STRANGE THAT BEING on the run didn’t make Vincent feel nearly as vulnerable as finally meeting his daughter did. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been this. Meeting her was like waking up on Christmas morning and finding this present so fantastic that you’d never even imagined it existed sitting under the tree.

Even though she was pouting about missing out on her trip to New Orleans, she was still amazing. Smart. Spunky. And he hadn’t lied when he’d said she had his eyes. She did, but the rest of her was all Candy, or Janice as she went by now. She wasn’t as pretty as her mother, but she would be in time.

Time that he had to make sure she got.

He opened the door to her bedroom and went inside. He skimmed the items on her bulletin board, then picked up a picture of Kelly and Janice, heads together, both laughing. He tensed, as if he were gearing up for a fight.

It wasn’t as if he felt anything for Janice anymore. He didn’t. How could he be attracted to a woman who hadn’t even looked him in the eye when she’d sat on the witness stand and testified for the prosecutor? But that was behind him. It was Kelly he was here for, her safety that was all important.

He sat down at the computer and brought up her e-mail. Thankfully he didn’t have to worry with trying to figure out her password. She had left it so that it came up automatically when he went to her Internet access. Kelly’s mailbox was full of new and previously read messages.

He read the most recent ones and found a few Byron had written under the pseudonym of Ringman. He scrolled down, reading earlier messages from Byron. Nothing gave him away as working for Tyrone, but nothing cleared him, either. He’d have to find out more about the kid. He’d start by visiting the chat room where Kelly and Byron had met.

But he’d also get the address of Byron’s computer and see what information he could get online. He had learned a few helpful things in prison.



KELLY WAS sprawled out on the sofa skimming the latest issue of Seventeen magazine with the earphones to her radio firmly planted in her ears. Vincent was in Kelly’s room with the door closed. Janice was in the laundry room folding shorts and shirts still warm from the dryer and considering her plan of action.

Vincent had taken her by surprise last night. His argument that she needed him to protect Kelly had struck such fear in her heart that she’d gone along with him.

But Ken’s call had started her seeing things a bit differently. She still thought that Vincent actually believed Tyrone was a real and imminent danger. But if he were delusional, that would explain his intensity and fears. And it might mean that he could turn dangerous himself, especially if she ordered him out of the house.

She had to get Kelly away from him. She could do it. Kelly’s clothes from the beach were here in the laundry room; so was their luggage. Janice’s clothes, makeup and the charger for her cell phone had never been unpacked.

All she had to do was add a few things to the luggage, and they could get in the car and drive away before Vincent even realized they were gone. Then she could contact Ken and he would take over from there.

But she had to do this just right. If Kelly made a scene in any way, Vincent would hear her in the back of the house and come running in to see what was up.

She repacked Kelly’s clothes and carried both pieces of luggage to the SUV, careful to make as little noise as possible when she opened the back door and set them inside. So far, so good, but the real challenge was yet to come.

Trying to appear as calm as possible, she walked to the den and sat down on the arm of the sofa. When Kelly looked up she motioned for her to take the earphones off.

“What’s up?”

This was it. One yell of protest from Kelly, one untimely appearance by Vincent, one wrong move, and her plan could prove to be fatal. It was a risk, but one she had to take.

She had to make this work.




Chapter Four


Janice backed the car out of the garage slowly, rounding the corner before she threw the gear into Drive and rammed the pedal to the metal.

“Way to go, Mom! What’s the rush?”

She ignored the question. She’d left Vincent a note that they’d had to pick up something at her office and would be back soon. She doubted he’d buy that, but it might slow him down in looking for them.

The light in front of them flashed to yellow, and she hit the accelerator, clearing it just as it turned red.

“Mom! You’re going to get us killed for some stupid old files.”

Getting them killed was what she was afraid of, but not because of her driving or stupid files. There were no files, of course. Having Kelly run into Janice’s office to pick up files while she circled the block was the only excuse she could think of that required Kelly to go with her.

Kelly slouched in the seat and pulled her earphones back in place. She stayed that way until Janice passed the exit she should have taken to go to her office. Kelly pushed the earphones off and let them hang haphazardly around her neck while she made a face. “You’re not going to drag me on a hundred errands, are you?”

“Not quite.”

“I knew it.” This time, she left the earphones off. She propped her feet on the dashboard and fingered the chipped red paint on her toenails, then turned back to Janice. “Did you know my dad was a big baseball fan?”

“Who told you that?”

“Vincent. He said my father went to see the Yankees play every year when he was growing up.”

If that was true, she hadn’t known that about Vincent. All she’d known of him was that he had burst into her life in an explosion of passion and she’d fallen for him instantly and hard.

“I told Vincent I’d never even been to New York, and he said he’d take me sometime. I told him you’d never let me go. I never get to go anywhere.”

And Vincent was the reason for that, though she was certain he hadn’t mentioned that. Her fingers wrapped around the wheel so tightly she could feel bursts of pain.

Kelly put her earphones back on and nodded her head up and down to the beat of the music. Janice tried to think how best to explain to Kelly that everything she’d been told about her father was a lie—that he was not a dead hero, but a live escaped convict. She’d have to tell her. She couldn’t take her on the run and not tell her why they were running or from whom.

They rode in silence until she took the airport exit, and Janice knew she had to say something. She reached over and tugged the earphones from Kelly’s head. “We need to talk.”

“Let me guess. We’re picking up another guest I’ve never heard of.”

“No. We’re going on a trip.”

“Sure we are, Mom. We’re always just hopping a plane to somewhere.”

“I know it’s unusual, but we are going on a trip.”

“Without luggage?”

“I packed a few things for us. They’re in the back.”

Kelly unbuckled her seat belt, turned around and pulled her knees into the seat so that she could see if Janice was telling the truth. When she saw the luggage, she started squealing and wiggling her bottom like crazy.

“We’re going to New Orleans! You changed you mind and we’re going.” She did a few wild swings of her arm as if she were dancing, then reached across the seat and gave Janice a hug.

“I’ve got to call Gayle and tell her. She’s going to flip. Or is she in on this?”

Janice shook her head in exasperation. She’d done this all wrong. They couldn’t possibly go to New Orleans.

Or could she? Vincent certainly wouldn’t look there. Neither would Tyrone, even if Vincent was right and he was out to get them. They could join Kelly’s group, just another bunch of high school kids touring the famed, historic city. It would give the police time to apprehend Vincent, and they were already tailing Tyrone.

Did she dare risk it? Or did she tell Kelly this was all a mistake and totally crush her?

Kelly already had Gayle on the phone and was babbling on and on about the fact that Janice had given in, and that they’d be in New Orleans in a few hours.

Kelly was ecstatic. Janice felt as if her insides had been coated with acid. But it just might work. Except she wouldn’t do it without Ken’s approval. She’d call him as soon as they got to the airport and she could get just far enough away from Kelly that her daughter couldn’t hear her conversation.



VINCENT STRETCHED HIS long legs under Kelly’s short desk until his toes bumped against the wall. Everything he’d found pointed to the fact that Byron’s relationship with Kelly had started just before Tyrone’s release from prison, and there was no record of Ringman being a member of any chat group other than the one where he’d linked with Kelly.

His online profile listed his name as Byron Hasselback, age seventeen. A check with the local high school indicated there was no Byron Hasselback registered. And there were no Hasselbacks listed in the phone book with addresses anywhere near the park where he’d walked with Kelly.

Might as well go down and share that bit of news with Janice. He closed Kelly’s e-mail and was about to exit the Internet when a message appeared on the screen. Ringman, a member of Kelly’s buddy group, had just signed on to the Internet. A second later, the instant message box appeared with a typed message from Byron.



Guess you’re still bummed about not going to New Orleans.



Vincent’s fingers went to the keyboard. For a second, he felt almost guilty about assuming his daughter’s identity, but one thought of Tyrone changed that.



Real bummed. It’s a drag here. Can we meet and talk?



Sure. We can meet right now if you promise not to bring that guy with you.



The offer of a daytime meeting surprised Vincent, but with luck, the park would be just as deserted in the sweltering midday heat as it had been in the dark of night. If this was a trap, he didn’t want to bring innocent people into the mix.



I can meet now.



Okay, but don’t let that guy see you leave the house.



He’s not around.



Where is he?



I think he left. Mom didn’t like him.



Can you make it in twenty minutes?



Easy.



Vincent logged out of Kelly’s server and flicked off the monitor. His mind was already going over how he’d handle the meeting with Byron as he unlocked the door and started down the hall to the front of the house.

The door to Janice’s bedroom was open. He knocked anyway. When she didn’t respond, he peeked inside. The white robe she’d had on that morning was tossed on top of the unmade bed. The sheets were still mussed where she’d slept.

Something twisted in his gut, and he leaned against the door frame trying to get a handle on his feelings. This crazy desire she ignited didn’t mean anything. It was just that he hadn’t been with a woman in years and years.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. He stepped into the living room and scanned it for signs of life. The morning newspaper was folded and sitting on the huge ottoman just as he’d left it. A half glass of soda was on the table by the sofa, leftover remnants of ice cubes floating on the top.

Panic swelled in his chest as he raced to the kitchen, then opened the garage door. The tan SUV was gone. Damn. He kicked a sneaker lying by the door with such force that it knocked over Kelly’s bike and sent a tin watering can clattering across the floor.

What kind of lunatic would have run off on her own after what he’d told her about Tyrone’s revenge plans? That was a no-brainer. The same kind of nut who’d testify against Tyrone Magilinti in the first place. If Janice thought some play-by-the-rules U.S. Marshal could save her and Kelly, she was living in a dreamworld.

So where the hell had she taken his daughter? Probably to some so-called safe house the marshal had set up. Or she might have gone to a friend’s house or just hit the road.

She might have even caught a flight out of town, probably not in her own name. Only airline security was tight these days. Unless the marshal had set her up with some convincing alternate forms of ID, she’d never be able to board. Still, he’d check the airlines just to make sure.

He walked back to the kitchen and this time he saw the note from Janice propped against the coffeepot. Like hell, she’d be back soon. She’d probably already called the cops and told them where to find him.

He was amazed they weren’t already beating down the door. There might be a SWAT unit surrounding the house, waiting for him to stick his head out before they started shooting.

He checked his weapons. One pistol was at his waist, tucked into the holster that fit beneath his loose cotton shirt; another was in his boot holster, along with a hunting knife sharp enough to slice a man’s jugular with a flick of the wrist.

Vincent raced to the guest room, stuffed his few personal belongings and his spare change of clothes into the blue duffel with his tools and equipment, then went to the front window and studied the landscape.

There was no sign of police activity, so he walked out, got into his car and drove to the park to meet Byron. It would be a quick visit, but if he was, in fact, working for Tyrone, Vincent wanted to know why and who else who might be on his cousin’s payroll. It always helped to be able to identify the assassins when someone was going down.



THE PARK was deserted except for a mixed-breed mutt chasing squirrels. Vincent waited in the wooded area a couple of yards off the path. He didn’t want Byron to see him and run off before he got close enough to grab him.

Byron showed up early—at least, Vincent figured the guy in denim cutoffs with the scraggly hair was Byron. The guy scanned the area, then dropped into a swing and lit a cigarette. He was lanky and moved in a sluggish manner that suggested he had nothing better to do than while away his days meeting pen pals in the park.

Vincent kept a wary eye out to make sure no one else was around. When he was fairly certain Byron was alone, he stepped onto the path and started breathing as if he’d been jogging.

“Man, this heat will give you a stroke,” he said, leaning against a tree and holding a hand over his chest.

“Yeah. It’s hot.” Byron took a long draw on the cigarette and blew out a spiral of smoke as Vincent approached him.

“It’s too hot for Kelly,” Vincent said, stopping within arm’s reach of Byron. “She said to tell you that.”

The cigarette slipped from Byron’s fingers. Vincent stepped in front of him and ground it out.

“You must have the wrong guy,” Byron said. “I don’t know a Kelly.”

“I think you do.”

Byron jumped up, but Vincent put both hands on his shoulders and pushed him back into the swing.

“You’re crazy, man. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Vincent kept his grip on Byron’s shoulders. “Who paid you to start up a friendship with Kelly?”

“No one. I told you, I don’t know no Kelly.”

Vincent pulled his weapon and held the tip of the barrel against Byron’s right temple. “Who paid you?”

The guy broke into a serious sweat. It poured down his face like rain.

“Okay, okay. Some guy paid me, but I don’t know his name. He just said to start luring Kelly to the park and find out things about her.”

“What kind of things?”

“Who her friends are. What hours her mom’s home. That sort of thing.”

“Why did you run out on her last night?”

“I didn’t, man. I was never here.”

“That’s not what you said in the e-mail.”

“I say what he tells me to say. Last night he told me not to show, then he told me to act like I did.”

“Why didn’t he want you to show last night?”

“I don’t know, dude. I don’t ask questions. I just do as I’m told. I got some gambling debts. I need the money.”

“Did your friend tell you to set up this meeting today?”

“No, and he’s not a friend. Look, please put that gun down. I’ll tell you everything, just put that gun down, please.”

Vincent lowered the gun. The guy was scared, and his gut feeling was that Byron was finally telling the truth.

“Why did you come today without being told to?”

“I got scared last night when they told me not to show. Kelly’s got some issues with her mother and all that, but she’s a nice kid. I didn’t want to see her get hurt.”

“And you think the guy planned to hurt her?”

“I didn’t know. He said he wasn’t, but he was into her, you know what I mean. He kept asking questions about her and last night, he wanted her here, but he didn’t want me anywhere around.”

“How did you meet this guy?”

“I got an e-mail from him. He already knew all about me. Knew I was out of work. Knew I was in trouble with the gambling debts.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?”

“Man, I can’t mess with the cops. I mean, I been in trouble before.”

“For picking up girls on the Internet?”

“Maybe.”

Vincent put the gun back to his head. “Yes or no?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t do anything they didn’t want to do.”

But enough that he couldn’t go to the cops with this. Tyrone would have known that and that’s why he chose him to do his dirty groundwork.

But last night, Tyrone or one of his henchmen had been in this very park waiting for Kelly. If Vincent hadn’t seen her sneak away from the house… If he hadn’t been with her…

He felt sick. Sick and furious all at once, and he wished it was Tyrone’s head in front of his gun. He’d pull the trigger and never think twice about it.





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