Jim
I must’ve read that one line ten times before I put the letter down. “With me gone, you are safe now.” That’s when I suspected that he wasn’t dead. My father had used his real name on that plane. He had absolutely no reason to do that unless he wanted the world to know he’d been killed. But why hadn’t Paolo used his real name, too?
Anyway, it was the moment that I began hoping again. But ten months later, there were still no signs of either of them. Horse had also dropped off the face of the planet, dead for all I knew.
So with my mother deciding to go back to work at a local hospital, I had no choice but to begin facing facts: The miracle I’d longed for wasn’t going to happen, and I had to start thinking about doing something other than waiting and driving myself mad with grief.
“Dakota, you have to come visit me in New York before school starts,” my friend Mandy said as I walked barefoot along the beach in late August, talking on my cell. It was the only saving grace out of this entire situation; I was able to have Mandy back in my life, and my mother had her sister, Rhonda, who lived in the Hamptons. I’d even tracked down my college roommate, Bridget, and caught up with her over the phone. It was a little strange explaining to Bridget why I’d disappeared so suddenly from school, but I told her there’d been a family emergency I couldn’t really talk about. Mandy, on the other hand, knew something was up. We’d had very little contact other than me sending her the occasional message to let her know I was all right, and my measurements for my wedding dress. She also knew that my father had “died”—it was all over the news—and she had probably seen the same picture of Paolo as everyone else. But like a true friend, she knew I didn’t want to talk about it, so she didn’t ask questions. Mandy was simply happy to have me back. I thanked my lucky stars for her, too.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Classes begin in a few weeks, and I have a lot to—”
“Uh-uh. No way. You’re coming to see me. We’re having a weekend of fun before you get sucked into Miami U life. Seriously, I can’t believe how lucky you are. The guys down there must be haaaawt.”
I didn’t know and, frankly, I didn’t care. I was just thrilled I’d gotten into a university close to home. It was the first step I’d taken to get myself out of the dark hole I’d been living in, and it felt good.
I laughed. “You can have all the guys in Miami; I’m going to be focusing on studying.”
“Okay. Deal. In the meantime, how’s next weekend?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure about leaving my mom.”
“You just said she’s working. She won’t even know you’re gone.”
I gave it some thought. Yeah, I really did miss Mandy. And seeing her might keep my mind off of my ghosts. “Okay. I’ll check flights and text you later.”
She squealed on the other end of the phone. “I’m so excited! Ohmygod!”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “But no shopping unless it’s a thrift store or antique shop.”
“Boo. Okay. We’ll see a play and go to some museums. Oh! And I know the best veggie burger place ever. You’re going to die.”
Jeez, I hope not. I still wasn’t sure who might be lurking in the shadows.
“Looking forward to seeing you, sweetie.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mandy lived with three other girls in a small two-bedroom, one-bath, first-floor apartment on Manhattan’s East Side. For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine how they didn’t kill each other sharing six hundred and fifty square feet of living space, but she assured me it was the best experience of her life. And most of the time, they were out and about anyway, and her roommate spent most weekends with her boyfriend up in Connecticut. I had to admit, a part of me felt a little jealous. Mandy was getting the full college experience while I tried to make sense of the violent, unpredictable world we lived in, where crazy people plotted to wipe everyone out.
In my eyes, Mandy had it so, so good. Ignorance was bliss. Though I suspected she wasn’t as ignorant about my real life as she let on. I mean, we’d grown up together, and she was like a sister. How could she have not caught on that my life was like a bad spy novel? People didn’t go into hiding just for the fun of it.
Anyway, with the roomie gone, I set out my small suitcase on her bed, preparing for the fashion shunning. All I’d brought with me were jeans and T-shirts, and from the look of the walls—covered floor to ceiling with pictures of models (both male and female) and drawings of cool dresses, pants, skirts, and blouses—I knew Mandy was going to make me play dress up.
Right on cue, she started digging through my clothes, throwing them on the floor. “Uh-uh. You’re not going out looking like you just found your clothes in a bag on the side of the street. But that’s why you have me.” Her twinkling brown eyes, lined with navy blue eye shadow, and her stylish A-line bob gave her a look of retro-sophistication. And her clothes, though they were mismatched plaid and floral patterns, and deliberately clashing, gave her an edgy urban look. I had to admit that she had the antifashion look down to a science.
“I thought I’d just wear what I have on,” I said to mess with her.
She looked at my very nondescript green tee and loose-fitting jeans, and scowled.
“What? I’m comfortable,” I argued, watching her prepare to detonate.
She shoved her finger in my face. “I have dreamed of this moment for two whole years—you, me, roaming Manhattan on a Friday night, not coming home until the sun comes up. And you,” she shook her finger, “are not going to rob me of my dream.”
“I guess,” I said with a dramatic sigh, “I can pretend to be someone else tonight.” Obviously, I knew that coming to see her would mean “fashion makeover.” That was just how Mandy rolled.
She clapped excitedly. “You won’t regret it.”
Yeah, right. But I loved Mandy, and that was more important.
Two hours later, seven o’clock at night, I was coiffed with the straightest red hair I’d ever seen, wearing the world’s highest frigging pair of powder pink platform pumps, and a drapey, tent-style blue dress that was so short my inner thighs cringed. Mandy had personally designed it, so I dutifully smiled and told her how awesome the dress was. I left out the part where it was awesome for someone a little more adventurous. She wore a short, black satin dress with lace trim around the neckline and the sides cut out—exposing her sexy lace bra—belted at the waist. Of course, Mandy, with her Italian curves, looked amazing.
As we left her apartment and hoofed it to the corner, I caught her smiling.
“What?” I said, more as an accusation than anything else.
“Nothing.”
“I know that look. It’s the same one you had when you convinced me to sneak out to see Rocky Horror.” Of course, we’d gotten caught and ended up grounded, but it had been fun.
“All right. My friend at school works nights at this really cool martini bar. I thought we’d pop over and have a few drinks.”
Both of us had turned twenty this year—not old enough for barhopping. Nevertheless, I wasn’t about to ruin Mandy’s fun because of that. I’d committed much worse infractions, such as presenting forged documents to U.S. officials, laundering money (for honorable purposes such as self-preservation), and traveling under a false identity. Sneaking into a martini bar was like lawbreaker kindergarten.
“Fine. Just for a little while, though.” As a surprise, I’d gotten us tickets to the last seating of 50 Shades!, the Off-Broadway musical. Mandy loved Broadway shows, especially funny ones, and I owed her for a few missed birthdays. I figured a bunch of women singing about how horny they were would be right up her alley.
She squealed. “You’re going to love it, Dakota! All sorts of famous people go there. In fact, the last two times I’ve been, I saw Nikki Hunt. Can you believe that? Frigging Nikki. Hunt.”
Nikki…I’d completely forgotten about her these past months, and I suddenly wondered if she was still working with my father’s people.
I found mys
elf ignoring the pain of my pinched toes, walking a little faster.
When Mandy and I entered the bar—a gleaming palace of glass, including the bar counter, barstools, and walls, with a DJ in the corner spinning velvety ambient house music—my eyes immediately went to work. It was still pretty early and Nikki was a night owl, so I wasn’t shocked not to see her. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be on pins and needles the entire time.
“I need a drink. Something strong,” I said.
Mandy blinked at me. She knew I didn’t drink hard alcohol. “Uh. Okay.”
We walked over to an open spot, and the bartender immediately gave us his undivided attention. The entire establishment—the men especially—also seemed to be looking our way.
I began tugging at my hem, trying to ignore the strange vibe. I still wasn’t used to being looked at. My usual MO was “wallflower.” Just blend in.
“And what would you like this evening, my princess?” The voice came from behind me.
I spun around and saw a pair of beautiful green eyes. “Horse?”
He grinned with a sly little twitch. “Si. Princess Leah. It is I.”
I cupped my hands over my mouth before launching my entire body at him and wrapping my arms around his neck for an epic bear hug. “Ohmygod. You’re alive!”
“Eh-hem.” I heard Mandy clear her throat.
I pulled away from the blond, lean, and overtly handsome man dressed in a gray sweater and black skinny jeans. “Horse, this is Mandy, my best friend. Mandy, this is Horse.”
When Horse swiveled his head toward Mandy, I witnessed the charm machine go into action. He stared into her eyes and then lifted her hand to his lips. “It is a pleasure, Mandy.”
“You’re Italian,” she said.
“Yes. I am.”
“My father is Italian. Giorgio Giovanni. I’ve always wanted to travel there, but—”
“Sorry to interrupt,” I said, “but I need to talk to Horse for a moment. It’s important.”
“Sure,” Mandy replied. I knew she was a little annoyed, but that she’d understand.
I dragged Horse off to the corner. “Okay. What happened to you? Why didn’t you ever show up in Chicago? Do you know anything about Paolo? Is he alive? Were you involved with the plane explosion?” The questions spilled from my mouth in an endless stream.
“Slow down, princess.” He held up his palm.
“You have no idea what I’ve been through. Your cousin shot me.” I pointed to my abdomen. “And then my father and Paolo—why didn’t you call me!”
He leaned down to whisper, his eyes doing a quick sweep of the room, “Slow down, princess. You know I can’t say anything.”
“Horse, I’m begging you. Please, please tell me what you know. Remember who you’re talking to. I was there for you when you needed help.”
He scratched his blond stubble and blew out a breath.
“Please.” My eyes filled with tears. “I’m begging you to do me this one favor. Put me out of my misery.”
He grumbled something under his breath about hating to see women cry. “Okay. Fine. But we never had this conversation. Capisci?”
“Si, capisci, or whatever.” I nodded eagerly.
He took a deep breath. “I was just about to leave for Naples and get on a flight when Felix showed up at our cousin’s home in the country where I was hiding. Felix was in very bad shape but didn’t want to go to the hospital for obvious reasons. Then he disappeared. When the police showed up, I knew he’d tipped them off.”
“How did he know where we were going to meet?”
“I wrote it down on the back of my airline ticket. He must’ve found it along with my fake passport.”
He continued, “After that, I was taken to some secret detention center where Nikki told me everything—Felix tipping off my uncle, Paolo being taken by my uncles before your father’s people arrested my family. Then they asked for my help to find Paolo. And at the same time, they were looking everywhere for Felix. I told Nikki everything I knew.”
“So, did they find Paolo? Is he alive?”
Horse’s expression looked troubled. Like he didn’t want to tell me whatever it was that he knew.
“Please. I just want to know if he’s dead or alive.”
He took another breath and blew it out. “Si. He’s alive. They found him locked up in a warehouse outside of Rome. Dehydrated, but otherwise fine. As soon as he was able, he helped us look for Felix. And once we finally traced the bastard to Chicago, we knew you were with him—but they didn’t get to you in time.”
“Wait. Paolo was found before I was shot?” I was confused.
“Si.”
I didn’t understand. My father had said he was going to bring Paolo back to me. But if Paolo had already been found, my father must’ve known. And why hadn’t Paolo contacted me?
Because he didn’t want to, Dakota. He didn’t want to…
“Oh. I see,” I said.
“I’m sorry, princess. I know it must hurt, but I was there when your father showed up in Rome after you’d been shot. The conversation wasn’t pretty, and the two almost killed each other.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Paolo felt like you were better off without him in your life. He blamed himself for Felix shooting you.”
“You mean my father tried to talk him into coming back to me?”
Horse nodded. “Si. But Paolo wouldn’t budge. He said he was a danger to you—that somehow our family might end up getting out of prison and come after him, which would only put you in the crosshairs. Your father told him that he’d make it so no one ever came looking. For him, me, or Paolo, but Paolo still wouldn’t budge. He said it was only a matter of time before someone somewhere figured it out.”
Dammit! I wanted to scream. I mean, I understood that Paolo’s plan had been to quietly slip away after the operation was over, and the Abelli family wasn’t supposed to ever know he wasn’t Felix. I also understood that his plan blew up because Felix got free and alerted everyone. I even understood that there was a possibility that the Abellis might someday come after him and I could get in the way. But what I couldn’t comprehend was why Paolo had decided what my life should be. Again.
Maybe the real reason was he just wanted to stay with Nikki. I didn’t know why that thought popped into my head, but it did. Nikki was beautiful and strong, and she probably didn’t give a crap if he disappeared for months at a time. I, on the other hand, wanted a full-time commitment.
Whatever. Doesn’t matter now. It’s over. He made his choice.
“So,” I looked down at my heels, speaking to myself, really, “Paolo wanted me to believe he’d died along with my father, who isn’t really dead either.”
Horse cleared his throat. “You know I can’t say anything. But I will tell you that it broke Paolo when you were shot. He fell apart.”
Oh, poor baby…Yes, on one hand, Paolo was alive. So was my father. That felt like a damned miracle. On the other hand…I was pissed! Not like “Oh, they lied to me again. How annoying,” but like pissed-pissed.
“What about you?” I asked. “What’s your excuse for not contacting me?”
He waved me off. “Oh no…Your father told me to stay the hell away from you or he’d hunt me down. And I enjoy living.”
Nice, Dad. Really nice.
“So how come you’re out and about and not hiding?” I asked.
Horse shrugged. “My family is in prison. I’m no longer a wanted man. It’s time to move on with my life. Besides, living a life hiding all the time isn’t living.”
Well, good for him! Seriously. I wished he’d knock some sense into Paolo or my father.
Horse’s phone made a loud buzzing sound, and he pulled it from his back pocket. “I have to take this, princess. Please give me one moment.” Horse turned away, holding the phone to one ear and covering the other to block out the music.
Then I glanced over at Mandy, who looked hotter than a chocolate Pop-Tart fresh from the t
oaster. Two guys were talking to her, invading her personal space, and she looked super uncomfortable. Then there was me, about to blow a fuse and looking for someone to take it out on.
Uh…whatthehell? I marched over to the two guys. One had darker skin, a shaved head, and wore an outrageously preppy outfit, like he’d just come from the driving range. The other guy, with short brown hair, looked drunker than hell—flushed face and a little stagger—and wore a white dress shirt.
“Hi.” I slid in between the two guys and Mandy, pushing them back a few inches to make room.
“Well, how there,” shaved-head guy slurred. Yeah, he’d said “how” not hello. “Wass your name?”
“I’m Dakota. And this is my girl Mandy here. And she may be too polite to make a scene, but I’m in a shitty mood, so I’m just going to say you’re both fucked up and should go home.”
He looked at his friend. “This little girl thinks she can make me go away.” He turned his head back toward me. “What if I give you some candy? Will that make you go away?”
Little girl? I was about to unleash a fury that would have him slinking out of the bar in humiliation, but from the corner of my eye, I saw him reaching for something in his pant pocket. On impulse, I lifted my knee and landed it right on the mark. I watched him drop to the floor and a pack of breath mints rolled from his hand.
“Whoa! Dakota.” Horse was right there, pulling me away. “What’s the matter with you?”
I watched as the stupid drunk guy’s friend helped him up, and two security guards from the front door came to see what had happened.
“Dakota,” Mandy said, “why did you do that? They were totally harmless.”
“Well, he was—he was reaching for something and…Ugh.” I rubbed my face. I’d gotten in the guy’s face because I was pissed off. That was the reason. I was sick of men who pushed around women, who treated them like weak little children. The knee thing was just a reflex. Not that it would matter.
When the two security officers looked over at me, I knew I would be the one in trouble, but I didn’t care. I’d had it.