An Innocent Lie 2w2s5g

BOOKS BY SAM CROMARTIE

HISTORICAL NOVELS Romanov Curse Romanov Quest Himmler’s Mistress

THRILLERS Ultimate Duty Good Fortune’s Curse An Innocent Lie

NONFICTION Family Survival Guide

NONFICTION WITH RICHARD JOSEPH DUMA MD, PhD High-Tech Terror: Recognition, Management, and Prevention of Biological, Chemical, and Nuclear Injuries Secondary to Acts of Terrorism, Charles C Thomas Publisher Ltd

COMING SOON

The Weather Girl’s Assassin, a political thriller

AN INNOCENT LIE

SAM CROMARTIE

Copyright © 2017 by Sam Cromartie.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017910391 ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-5434-3384-5 Softcover 978-1-5434-3383-8 eBook 978-1-5434-3382-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 06/29/2017

Xlibris 1-888-795-4274 www.Xlibris.com 760576

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank Sylvan Wells, Esquire and Dr. Leonard Indianer, author of The H-Factor and A Bridge to Elne, for reading a draft of this novel and making suggestions for its improvement. I thank my wife Elaine for her patience and .

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 1

Angie stood erect with her feet together. She took a slow deep breath and raised her hands above her head. She held the pose for several seconds and then lowered her arms as she tried to exhale the clutter from her mind. After several sets, she moved into Warrior II pose, concentrating on the motion of breathing in and out. The exercise was supposed to pull her thoughts from the destiny she faced, but it could not push out the walls that surrounded her or unlock the solid metal door. She longed for a window and rays of sunlight to break the monotony of the florescent glow that provided dim illumination to her tiny enclosure. That would have to wait thirty-two months and three days until her biological clock ticked her age past thirty. The judge had sentenced her to three years without parole. She was still a newbie—FRESH MEAT with only four months under her belt. She doubted that she would survive the first year. Her public defender had told her that Orleans Parish Prison was better than most of her other options. She guessed that was true if the alternatives had been in Turkey or Iran. It was not a preferred destination for a girl with blue eyes, a pretty face, and pale white skin. Angie dropped to her hands and knees and lifted her butt into the air for Svanasana or downward facing dog. Kaneisha, the muscular black woman who shared the cell, tossed a wet washcloth at her. “Hey, Bambi. You look like a Doberman in heat.” Angie pushed herself to a sitting position in the corner of the cell and used the projectile to wipe the sweat from her face. The prison walls could not hold back the May humidity and heat of New Orleans. Times like this made her appreciate being alone. “Why do you keep calling me that?” “Cause I don’t believe for a minute that your real name is Maria. And you look like a Bambi. Us whores need a proper name.”

Angie wondered how Kaneisha saw through her fake identity. It had fooled everybody else for years. Maria Baldini might not have been her real name, but she did not like being called Bambi. “I’m not a prostitute.” “That’s not what the judge said.” “I told you—I was framed.” “Right, me too and everybody else here. If you don’t believe it, just ask us.” Angie shrugged. She had no more proof of her innocence than any of the other inmates. Court records declared her guilty of prostitution, assault, and battery. Nothing she said was going to change that. “Who says we all aren’t telling the truth?” “The Man.” The clicking of boots on the floor caused both women to fall silent. The hallway extended to many cells, but intuition warned Angie that the guard was coming for her. A heavy-set white woman in her thirties stopped in front of the cell. She opened the door, curled her lips, and nodded to Angie. “Let’s go, Buttercup.” Angie pulled herself to her feet. She wondered what the warden perceived that she had done this time. “Where?’ The scowl on the guard’s face deepened. “Do I look like your travel agent? Get your stuff?” “Why?” “Cause I said to.” Kaneisha filled in the answer for her. “Maybe the warden wants some of your honky ass.” Angie knew better than to respond in kind. She grabbed her toothbrush and Sandra Brown paperback and followed “Miss Congeniality” down the long corridor to the electronic door. They continued down three more hallways to a conference room with a large table and two chairs.

Angie sat alone staring at the blank walls. She felt her pulse increase and tried to calm herself with slow, deep breaths like her yoga instructor had taught years ago. A middle-aged, overweight, white woman in a cheap business suit that smelled of weeks-old perspiration entered the room and took the opposing chair. Angie disliked her forced smile and tried to hurry the process along. “Why am I here?” “I have good news for you, Miss Baldini.” “Emeril must be taking over as chef for the cafeteria.” Her attempt at humor fell flat. The bearer of good tidings spoke in a monotone and seemed so uncomfortable with her words that Angie wondered if the news might indeed be favorable. “Your appeal was successful. You are free to go home.” Angie should have embraced her good fortune, but she knew that luck had nothing to do with her release. Her hands grew numb. She focused on her breathing—trying to slow her breaths. It did no good. “I never filed an appeal.” “Mr. Moreau filed it for you.” “Who’s he?” “Don’t you know your own lawyer?” “He’s not my lawyer. I’ve never heard of him.” “Well, he’s heard of you.” “Who hired him?” “According to our records, you did.”

Angie thought she knew who had solicited Mr. Moreau. Her father had the money and the means to accomplish almost anything. She just did not know how he found her. Hiding was her special talent—a skill honed over a decade of

disguise and subterfuge. She had been careful, but nothing could have kept her picture out of the Times-Picayune or even off the Internet, once the jury convicted her. She signed the papers that the lady placed into her hands and accepted a basket that contained the few articles she had brought with her when she began her sentence. Her clothes lay neatly folded on top, just as she had left them that day. Her cash and ATM card remained in her purse. She removed the jumpsuit and changed into the blouse and skirt. They no longer hugged her breasts and hips, but hung loose over her reduced frame. Much had changed since she had met Michel Bouffard in a bar on Bourbon Street six months ago. She had consumed too many “Hurricanes” that night. That was how she justified her lapse in judgment. He seemed polite and cultured and had a great sense of humor, but that was no reason to go back to his apartment with him. He had expected more than a nightcap, and when she said no, he interpreted that as, “come and get it.” That had been a mistake on his part. She broke his nose and crushed his testicles with her foot. She returned to her own apartment and went to bed, thinking the incident was behind her. That was her mistake. Two policemen arrived at her door the next morning. Fate was unkind. Mr. Bouffard turned out to be a big-time trial attorney and a friend of the mayor. She did not have money for a lawyer, so the court supplied her with a public defender who barely spoke English.

Angie left the prison and stood on the sidewalk at ten o’clock in the morning. The direct sunlight on her face felt exhilarating. She had no idea what to do or where to go. Her job at the New Orleans Museum of Art that she had held since graduating from Tulane had been filled, and she doubted she would be welcome there anyway after the adverse publicity her indiscretion had caused. Approaching her former friends would also be awkward. Few of them would want to associate with an ex-con. She had only one acquaintance who would overlook her conviction for prostitution and not think less of her—the woman who had preceded Kaneisha as her roommate at Orleans Parish Prison. Naomi was a tall, physically fit, black woman, who took a liking to Angie and

protected her from the other inmates until she learned to fend for herself. Angie hated to think what would have transpired if not for the sanctuary that Naomi had provided. Naomi completed her sentence the previous month and settled into an apartment on the second floor above Gaston’s Restaurant on Royal Street. It sat in the middle of the French Quarter where she met most of her clients—prime real estate for a woman who made her living as a hooker. Angie felt certain that Naomi would welcome her to stay there until she could get back on her feet. Naomi had sent her a letter the previous week. Angie memorized the address just in case she managed to escape. She could never have imagined winning her case through the judicial system. She flagged a cab. It smelled of stale cigarette smoke. The driver had dark skin and spoke with a Central American accent. “Where to, senora?” She climbed into the back seat and shut the door. “The French Quarter.” He started the meter and drove away from the curb. Habit forced Angie to scan the street. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary except for a dark Avalon that pulled into the traffic behind her. She thought little of it, but when the cab reached Canal Street, the Toyota was still there, three car-lengths back. She tapped on the petition that protected the driver from his engers. “Take a right here.” He frowned and pointed in the opposite direction. “But the quarter is to the left.” “Just turn here and drive around the block.” He did as instructed. She glanced back. The car was still behind her. She took several deep breaths to settle her nerves. Why are they following me? What do they want? Her release had defied reason. This confirmed her suspicion that nothing was as it seemed. She wanted to confront whoever was in the car to find out who they were and why they were interested in her. Fear guided her down a different path. “Take me to the Ritz-Carlton.” The driver shrugged and skidded back onto Canal Street. He pulled into the entryway, and accepted her cash. A bellman directed Angie into the hotel. She

rushed through the lobby and out the side door. A brisk walk took her to Carondelet Street where she merged with the line of tourists and locals waiting for the streetcar. It arrived five long minutes later. There were no seats so she stood, holding to a leather strap that she shared with a man who had consumed too many beignets during his life and who apparently had never heard of soap or deodorant. She rode only as far as Poydras Street, where she caught a different cab. It carried her to Gaston’s Restaurant.

Raul Laudicino liked his apartment above the warehouse on the Miami marina. He enjoyed the wide-screen TV, the built-in stereo system, and the view of the bay, but mostly he liked the privacy. He was not what you would call a people person, and he didn’t want neighbors nosing into his business. After all, he was a businessman—not your run-of-the mill, middle-class, lackey type. He ran an international enterprise. At least that’s what it was if you considered Mexico international. That was where his merchandise originated. He heard the knock on the door and pulled it open. Snow stood on the second floor walkway, looking like she didn’t know what to do next. He looked past her at the dark clouds hanging over the choppy water in the bay. They matched his mood. He pulled her into the room and turned the lock. Her brown eyes and dark skin contradicted her new name. He wondered why she had chosen it. Not that he cared. Her other attributes were what mattered in her line of work. Big tits, a small waist, and a round butt. The only thing she lacked was enthusiasm. She didn’t appreciate all that he had done for her. Who else would have stuck their neck out to sneak her into the land of the free? She needed to be taught a little respect. She looked almost twenty, older than he liked, but Heidi was with a client. He shoved her toward the bed. “What’re you waiting for? Get undressed.” She fumbled with the buttons, just like he imagined Angie would. He waited until she was naked before kicking off his shoes and dispensing with his pants. The phone rang, and the light returned to Snow’s eyes as if the interruption were going to bring her a reprieve. Raul jerked the handset off the hook. “Yeah.”

Brizio, the man he had sent to New Orleans to fetch Angie, projected his voice across the line. “We lost her.” “What the fuck happened?” “She just disappeared.” “She better un-disappear before you call back.” Raul slammed the phone down.

CHAPTER 2

Angie climbed the stairs above the restaurant and knocked on the door. She knocked again. A mosquito buzzed about her ear. She swatted it and waited. The door cracked open. Naomi projected her face through the opening below the security chain. She wore a bathrobe and looked half asleep. “Maria?” “In the flesh.” Naomi pulled her into the living room and wrapped her arms around her. “How did you get out?” “Beats me.” It felt good to have a friend who cared. “I won on appeal.” “That must have been a cinch with that bastard dead.” Angie felt herself shudder. “What bastard?” “The jerk that sicced the cops on you—that Mr. Bouffard. I thought you would have heard. Don’t you read the papers?” “Not much point in it when you’re locked in the slammer for three years.” “Do you want some coffee?” Angie nodded. She needed a stimulant to focus her thoughts. That creep’s death could no more be an accident of fate than her impromptu release from prison. “Do they know who killed him?” Naomi led her into the kitchen, removed two mugs from the cabinet over the counter, and poured steaming black liquid into them. “What makes you think he was murdered?” “He wasn’t?” She diluted the thick mixture of coffee and chicory with warm cream that took some of the bite out of it. “No. He killed himself. Jumped off a twelve-story

building. With him and that asshole that prosecuted you dead, getting an acquittal should have been a cakewalk. Angie realized that the man who had claimed to be her attorney had a lot of help in arranging for her release. “Mr. Thibault is dead too?” “Yeah. Car accident.” “Let me guess. A hit and run.” Naomi’s eyes widened. “How’d you know?” Angie slumped into the chair at the kitchen table and tasted the coffee. It was hot and strong like she liked it. “Just an educated guess. I never filed for an appeal. Yet here I am, a free woman after only four months.” “Holy shit. You’ve got some bad-ass friends. That must have been one scared judge that let you out.” She would have liked to tell Naomi everything—to get some advice on what to do now, but secrecy was the one thing that kept her alive. “He’s lucky to be alive. Can I crash here for a few days?” “Of course. You can sleep on the couch, or we can share the bed.” “Thanks. The couch is fine.” Naomi set her coffee down on the counter. “You feel like celebrating?” “A pitcher of beer and some gumbo at the Coffee Pot would be nice.” Naomi laughed. “You really live on the wild side, don’t you?” Angie shrugged. “I guess I’m a little out of practice.” Naomi walked to the bedroom. “Give me a minute to get dressed.” “Can I use your cell? I need to call my brother. He doesn’t know I’m out.” “It’s in the charger by the toaster. Tell him if he comes to ‘the Big Easy,’ I’ll give him professional courtesy.”

“I could e-mail him your picture. He’d be on the first flight from New York this afternoon.” “You do that. My computer’s on the desk. I hardly touch it, so you can’t mess anything up.” She disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door. Angie made the call. The phone ran six times before deferring to the answering machine. “The person you are calling is not available. Please leave your message at the beep.” Angie didn’t want to talk to a machine. Lenny was the only person in the world who would understand her predicament. She wanted to hear his voice and to soak up his advice because she had no idea what she should do. That was not an option, so she hung up. Naomi’s laptop booted without a hitch. Angie went to mail2web to reach her email , clicked NEW MESSAGE, and typed a quick note telling Lenny that she was out of prison and that she was staying with Naomi at her flat over Gaston’s Restaurant on Royal Street. She clicked SEND as her friend stepped out of the bedroom. Angie had never seen Naomi in anything other than prison garb. She looked hot in tight jeans and a burgundy blouse. She crossed the room and opened the door. “Let’s go.”

Raul stood at the edge of the bed and glared at Snow, who lay on her side, whimpering. “Get up. This ain’t no Holiday Inn.” He pulled on his pants and shoes. A knock on the door turned his attention away from the whore. Carmine, one of his “managers,” called through the wood ing, “The car’s ready.” Raul slipped his arms into his shirtsleeves. “Get in here.” Carmine stepped into the room. “Yes, sir.” Raul tilted his head toward the bed. “Take care of her.”

“Yes, sir.” He picked her clothes off the floor and tossed them at her. “Let’s go.” She pulled on her blouse and skirt and stumbled after him with her underclothes and shoes in her hand. Raul secured his pistol and switchblade in his safe and walked down the stairs to the Cadillac Escalade. He did not like going outside without them. It left him feeling naked, but where he was going, they could not go. He climbed onto the front seat of the SUV beside his driver, who knew better than to speak before spoken to. Orsino, a short, muscular man with black hair and dark eyes sat in the back seat. He was thirty years old, the same as Raul and had been with him since Raul took over the prostitution ring. He was one of the few men that Raul trusted. Orsino had discovered that Angie was in New Orleans. He had gone there on vacation during the trial and had seen her picture on the front page of the Times Picayune. The name had changed, but the face was unmistakable. “Everything all right?” he said. “No, goddamn it. Brizio screwed up. When this is over, you’re going to take over for him.” He thought of the extreme measures he had used to get Angie out of prison and of what he could have been doing tonight if Brizio had brought her to him. “Now we’ve got to do his work for him.” The back door opened, and Carmine climbed onto the seat beside Orsino. “What’d you do to her? She could hardly walk.” Raul scratched himself and wished he had taken time to shower. “I showed the bitch what it’s like to be with a real man. You got a problem with that?” “No, sir.” Raul turned to the man behind the wheel. “Take us to the airport.”

Angie found a table at the Coffee Pot by the window overlooking the tourists milling about on Rue St. Peter. She felt like she had gone to Heaven without having to go through the inconvenience of dying. She lifted her spoon to her mouth and licked her lips. “I love the gumbo here.”

Naomi gulped down her Bloody Mary. “You must be an easy date. All a guy has to do to bring you to an orgasm is fill you full of spicy food.” “Just bring me my red beans and rice, and I’ll be moaning like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally.” “Takes more than that for me.” “I’ll bet fifty dollars would do it.” “No way. Two hundred minimum.” A man in a business suit sitting alone at the adjacent table pushed back his chair and addressed Naomi. “Sold to the lady in the red blouse.” She looked at him like he had lost his mind. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I got two hundred dollars if you’re got the time.” “Can’t you see I’m off the clock? My best friend just got out of the big house.” “Fine. I’ll leave you lesbos to do whatever it is you do together.” “Just get lost.” He picked up his check and stormed over to the cashier. Angie suppressed a laugh. “He seemed nice.” “You can spot the type a mile away. Always make them pay in advance if you don’t want to be stiffed.” “You ever think of going into another line of work?” “You find me a job making a grand a day lying flat on my back, and I’ll look into it.” “You make that kind of money?” “Maybe during Mardi Gras.” The waitress came to the table with a fresh pitcher of beer. “That guy bothering

you?” Naomi shook her head. “No. He just had bad timing. Is my catfish po-boy ready yet?” “I’ll see.” She walked back to the kitchen. Angie refilled their glasses and lifted hers in the air. “To friendship.” “No, that’s too lame.” She clinked her glass against Angie’s. “To the untimely demise of Mr. Bouffard, asshole extraordinaire.”

When they got back to the apartment, Naomi headed for the bedroom. “I’m going to get some shuteye.” Angie kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for everything.” “Friends look after each other.” “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon. You’re wimping out mighty early.” “You forget that I work a permanent night shift. You look kinda tired yourself. Why don’t you me? It’s a king bed.” “That’s not my style. You know that. I’m going to wander around the quarter a bit. Do you have a spare key?” “It’s in the top drawer in the kitchen. Be careful. There’s lots of perverts out there.” “Like I’m not used to that.” “Hey. I take offense at that.” “I didn’t mean you.” Naomi closed her door. Angie found the cellphone and called Lenny. Still no answer. She checked the computer. No incoming mail.

The alcohol lay heavy on her stomach, and she felt drowsy. She stretched out on the couch and closed her eyes.

As the flight descended toward New York, Raul sat beside Carmine. Neither man spoke. Raul let his thoughts drift back eleven years to the time that Angie became his stepsister. He had been nineteen then—three years older than she was. The idea of his mother jumping into bed with his new stepfather turned his stomach, but his own dream of doing it with Angie superseded anything else. She had the smoothest skin he had ever seen and a smile that made him hard just thinking about it. She knew how to tease, but he was sure that no one had ever touched her. She was saving herself for me. The wheels bounced onto the runway, jolting Raul out of his fantasy. He stared out the window at LaGuardia airport. It won’t be long now. I’m going to find her. She’ll be sorry she hid from me. Her brother will know where she is. Lenny stuck to her like the string on a tampon. The aircraft came to a stop. Raul jumped out of his seat and grabbed his carry-on bag from the luggage rack. He was ready for a reunion with his stepbrother. Lenny was the reason that Angie had eluded him—why she had run off to college and not told anyone where she was. Lenny had been two years younger than Raul and not much of a jock. That hadn’t stopped him from butting in where he had no business. All I did was grab a titty and give it a nice squeeze. That was no reason for that prick to hit me with a baseball bat. He’s going to get what he deserves. He’s a coward. Wouldn’t fight like a man. Skipped town and never came back. That’s where Angie got the idea. Well this time, he won’t have a bat, and there’ll be nowhere to hide. The only thing he’ll have in his hand is his dick, and I might just cut that off. He handed his bag to Carmine. “We’ll need to stop at a pawn shop. I want to get a knife.”

The clock on the wall announced the time to be eight o’clock when Angie awoke that evening. The sound of snoring came through the wall. She found the key in the kitchen and locked the door behind her. After months of

incarceration, it felt good to be out in the air, even if it was hot and muggy and smelled of beer and urine. She loved the French Quarter. Tourists and locals packed the streets. They all seemed to be having a blast. Live music flowed from the bars, creating a carnival atmosphere. She stopped outside Preservation Hall and listened to the seasoned musicians play the best jazz in the world. A short walk took her to Pat O’Briens Bar where she dared to consume a Hurricane. It felt great to be free. She blocked all thoughts of the consequences of her last visit there. An attractive man in a suit and necktie invited her to him at his table. She declined. Perhaps she had not forgotten after all. Feeling a pleasant buzz, she wandered to her favorite oyster bar and consumed a dozen raw oysters and a pint of beer. She left with a full stomach and a wobbly gait. Bourbon Street bustled. A man in a bar sat on a stool with his guitar and sang the blues. A half-naked woman swung on a swing and waved. A cop with a billy club approached. Angie crossed the street. A man with a big hat invited her to see a show like none she had ever seen. She turned onto Toulouse Street and crossed to Royal. The stairs to the apartment seemed taller than she ed. She unlocked the door and stumbled inside. Naomi called from her room. “Is that you, Maria?” “I’m back.” Naomi, unencumbered by clothes, wandered into the living room. “Find any interesting men?” “No. I’m taking a break for a while.” “I didn’t mean for you. I need the business.” “You want me to pimp for you?” “Just kidding. What are your plans for the night?” “It’s almost ten o’clock. I’m going to borrow your tub, take a long bubble bath, and go to bed.”

“Have at it. I’ve got to get ready for work.” Angie submerged herself in the warm water and closed her eyes. It felt heavenly. Her muscles relaxed, and she cleared her mind of the chaos she had endured over the past four months. The door opened. Naomi stepped beside the tub. She wore a short skirt that displayed her long, athletic legs and a see-through blouse that stretched tight over size-D breasts. Four-inch stiletto heels magnified her already impressive height. “How do I look?” Angie grinned. “Like a chocolate lioness on the hunt.” “Wish me luck.” “With a body like that, you don’t need luck.”

CHAPTER 3

Raul double-checked the address of the little house on the outskirts of the projects. He rang the bell and waited until he heard Lenny’s voice. “Who is it?” Raul considered faking it, but decided to scare him with the truth. “It’s me. Your brother.” “I don’t have a brother.” “Of course you do. I’m here in the flesh right off the plane from Miami.” “Raul?” “That’s me. Open the door.” “Go away.” “I can’t. We need to talk.” “I have nothing to say to you.” “Angie’s in trouble. She needs your help.” The door cracked open. Raul kicked it so hard that he ripped the security chain off the frame. Carmine and Orsino followed him into the small but tidy room that served as den and kitchenette. Lenny bounced against the wall. Blood flowed from his mouth where the door collided with it. “What do you want?” Raul grabbed him by the throat. “Where’s Angie?” Lenny threw a fist. Carmine caught his arm. Raul head butted him to the floor. Orsino kicked him in the ribs. “Mr. Laudicino asked you a question.” Lenny groaned and rolled to a sitting position with his back against the wall. “How would I know?”

Raul pulled out his new pocketknife and released the blade. He missed his switchblade. It added flair, but Lenny would get the message soon enough. “Because I’m going to slit your throat if you don’t tell me.” Lenny touched his neck as if the slash were already there. “Atlanta. She moved to Atlanta a month ago.” Raul knew it was a lie. He kicked him in the face. More blood flowed from his mouth, and a tooth fell into his lap. Carmine kicked his arm. Orsino stomped on his leg. Lenny cried out and tried to stand. Raul slammed a boot into his groin. Lenny collapsed on the floor, gasping for air. Normally Raul would have stepped back and let his employees finish the job, but this was personal. Lenny had never shown him proper respect. He kicked him again. “ that baseball bat? Would you like to apologize?” Lenny shook his head. Raul stepped back. “Tell me where she is.” Lenny opened his mouth, but no words came out. Raul worried that he had gone too far. What if Lenny can’t tell me? He threw up his arms and glared at his men. “Check the house. See if there are any messages from her.” Carmine walked to the wooden desk in the corner of the room and stared at the e-mail message on the screen. “Hey Raul. Come look at this.”

Angie let the water out of the tub and dried off with a big terrycloth towel. She wrapped it around her chest, and walked into the living room. The computer remained on. Lenny had answered her e-mail two hours ago.

ANGIE,

CONGRATULATIONS. I’M THRILLED YOU ARE OUT, BUT HOW DID IT

HAPPEN? I THOUGHT YOU HAD A THREE-YEAR SENTENCE. SOMETHING DOESN’T ADD UP. SOMEBODY WANTED YOU OUT FOR A REASON. IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHY, YOU SHOULD LEAVE RIGHT AWAY. GO BACK TO JEB STUART. HE’S THE ONE PERSON YOU CAN TRUST. JEB’S STILL IN DURHAM. BE CAREFUL. I HAVE A FEELING THIS IS NOT OVER. I’M LATE FOR DINNER. I’LL CATCH YOU UP WITH YOU WHEN I GET BACK LATER TONIGHT.

LOVE YOU, LENNY

She clicked close. I wonder where he went. Did he have a date? Is he serious about anyone? I wish he wasn’t so paranoid. He should know I’d never involve Jeb. He deserves better, and he wouldn’t listen to me anyway—not after what I did to him. Jeb had been her boyfriend years ago when she was a college student at the University of North Carolina. That had ended badly, and she had no intention of dragging him back into her quagmire of troubles. She reread the note and wondered if whoever instigated her release from prison had special plans for her. They couldn’t get to me there, but they can now. I can’t stay here, but it’s too late to leave tonight. I’ll catch a bus out of town in the morning. She considered calling Lenny, but looked at the clock. It was ten o’clock, which meant eleven o’clock in New York. I’ll catch him in the morning. Naomi had left the front window open. A warm breeze ed through it. Angie tossed her towel onto the floor, wrapped herself with a sheet from the linen closet, and lay on the couch. She collapsed into a deep sleep.

The lights flashed on. Angie bolted upright. A tall man stood staring at her from just inside the door. He wore a short-sleeved shirt and blue jeans with a tattoo of a naked girl on his huge biceps. He licked his lips like he had just tasted his first piece of praline cheesecake. Angie covered herself with the sheet. She normally carried a pistol in her purse, but the cops had confiscated it when they hauled her off to the jail. She looked for any sort of weapon. The lamp could be a club, but it was one of those frilly plastic ones that would do nothing but make an assailant mad. The man seemed amused by her dilemma. “It’s OK, honey. I’m just an oversized teddy bear.” Naomi followed him into the room. She looked at Angie and shrugged. “Sorry. I’ve got to make a living.” “Here?” “We’ll try to be quiet.” She walked to the bedroom. Teddy kept his gaze on Angie. “Come us. I can fork out another two hundred bucks.” Angie felt her stomach turn over. “That’s very kind of you, but I was just leaving.” Naomi unbuttoned her blouse. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. You’re coming back, aren’t you?” Angie realized that staying with her friend had been a mistake, but the options were limited. “Yeah. I’m just going to get some air.” She waited for Naomi to close the door before dropping the sheet and putting on her clothes.

Angie hurried down the stairs and walked back to Bourbon Street. The crowd had thickened and grown more boisterous than during the earlier sane part of the evening. The decibels of sounds from the bars and clubs reached a maximum,

and alcohol boosted the confidence of the young men on the prowl. Several of them made Angie some less-than-flattering offers. She almost longed for the solitude of her cell. Three teenage boys on a second-floor balcony looked down at her. One on them yelled, “Show us your tits.” Angie ignored him and kept walking. She reached the part of Bourbon Street where the noise and lights dimmed—where tourists instinctively knew not to wander. She continued forward, enjoying the silence. She turned onto a side street. A man lay on the walkway beside a half-empty bottle of wine. He sat up and held out a hand when she approached. “I haven’t eaten all day.” She handed him a dollar, turned around, and returned to the lights and music where she merged again with the tipsy couples, the hucksters, the gawkers, the working girls, and the beautiful “women” with deep voices and too much perfume. Bourbon Street was the Mecca for men seeking female companionship. She hoped that Naomi would soon be back in the crowd, displaying her picturesque legs and animal-like personality. Her own legs ached, and her eyelids grew heavy. She turned onto St. Peter Street. The hostess at Pat O’Briens found her a seat in the courtyard. She sipped a Hurricane, ordered a serving of crawfish étouffée, and watched the young men and women at the adjacent tables play let’s make a deal.

After a second Hurricane and more than enough time for Naomi to have provided five-star service to her client, Angie retraced her steps to the apartment. The door was unlocked. She wondered if Naomi had left and returned with a new customer. This could get even more awkward. She stepped into the living area and froze. Magazines and newspapers covered the floor. Furniture lay upside down. Angie knew she should run and call the police. But what if Naomi is here? What if she’s been hurt? Angie listened. The only sound came from a drunken man on the street, yelling something that she could not decipher. She threw open the door to the bedroom.

Naomi lay naked on the king bed. Blood covered her face and her breasts and soaked the sheets. Her index and ring fingers had been ripped from her right hand leaving ragged stumps. A jagged gash crossed her throat, and blood soaked the pink floral wallpaper two feet away. Angie groaned aloud, ran to the bathroom, and vomited into the toilet. She flushed it, washed her mouth out with Scope, and returned to Naomi. Her eyes lay open, staring at the ceiling with huge black pupils. Angie backed out of the room and collapsed onto a straight chair by the counter. Tears streamed down her face. This is my fault. Naomi was my only friend. Now she’s dead because of me. Dizziness swept over her. She put her head between her legs and waited for it to . I have to get out of here. What if they come back? What if the police find me here? I could never convince them that I wasn’t involved. She dragged herself to her feet and staggered back into the bathroom where she found a washcloth. She used it to wipe down every place that she may have touched in the apartment. The computer faced the back wall. She stepped around Naomi’s desk to wipe the keys. The screen remained lit. It displayed her last e-mail from Lenny. She sank onto the chair and reread it. They couldn’t have missed this. They know about Jeb. They will go to North Carolina. They’ll kill him. She deleted the message and erased the web browser’s history. The police can still recover what I erased. They’ll think I killed her. She took the towel she had left on the floor and wiped down the room. At least I didn’t touch anything in the bedroom. I hope those animals left prints in there. She found Naomi’s cellphone on the counter. I’ve got to call Lenny. She punched in the numbers. A man with a deep voice answered on the fifth ring. “Who is this?” Angie felt as if a vice constricted her chest. No one but Lenny had ever answered his phone. “I’d like to speak to Lenny.”

“He can’t come to the phone right now. Who is this?” She punched end. Oh god! What have they done to him?

CHAPTER 4

Jeb Stuart Grant opened his eyes to the glare of the afternoon sun. Three hours of rest had done nothing to relieve the fatigue that beckoned him to drift back to REM sleep. He stared at the blades of the ceiling fan that twirled away the time —precious time that he could not afford to waste. He threw his legs off the bed, stumbled to the bathroom, washed his hands and face, pulled on a pair of jockey shorts, and marched bare-chested into the kitchen in a quest for caffeine. He was not close to being ready for tomorrow, and his thinking tank was empty from spending the morning struggling to finish his criminal law exam after studying all night. His only solace was the knowledge that this part of his life would soon be over. One exam stood between failure and graduation. He thought of the strange turns his life had taken and how different it would have been if fate had not been cruel. At least he had survived the Afghan war and his own depression. Now his career was all he had left, and everything depended upon focusing his thoughts and memorizing pages and pages of case law. Reinforced with a mug of hot coffee, he marched to the small desk that took up a large part of the space that served as his living room, kitchen, and dining room. His civil litigation text lay open to chapter eight, and notes cluttered the adjacent table. Outside, he could hear college kids playing basketball in the park next door. He wished he could them. He picked up the book and squinted at the small print. I can do this. Only one more day until the good life begins. He tasted the brew. The aroma was pleasing, but the liquid burned his tongue. He sat it down and rested his head on his textbook. Four hours ed. The bright sunlight grew dim, and raindrops pattered on the tin roof of his house. The old-fashioned, non-digital clock that hung at an acute angle on the back wall displayed the time. Eight o’clock. He stared at his scribbled notes and strained to make sense of them. Why did I let myself doze

off? I need another week. I’ll have to stay up all night again and still will not be ready. The screech of tires diverted his attention from the task that lay ahead. He looked out the window. A BMW 650i convertible pulled to a stop in front of the garage. The driver’s door flew open. Laura emerged, swinging her long legs to the gravel and stretching her slim frame to its full height. At five feet, ten inches tall, she was only one inch shorter than Jeb. Her red hair clashed with the bright red finish of the new luxury vehicle and with her matching miniskirt, lipstick, and high-heeled shoes. It was neatly styled with ringlets. Jeb wondered why she had picked a convertible. She’ll never let the top down. It would wreak havoc with her curls. He took a deep breath and reconciled himself to a major distraction. I’m going to flunk the last exam of my last semester of law school. He jumped into a pair of blue jeans and lifted his wrinkled Duke sweatshirt from the floor, slipped it over his head, and opened the door. Laura swooped inside, closed her umbrella, and kissed his cheek. She sauntered past him to the kitchen table, where she set a bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé amongst the clusters of dirty dishes. She smelled of Eau de Parfum. Her gaze took in the open books, journals, and papers that covered the floor. She glanced at Jeb’s uncombed, outof-control, brown hair and his unshaven face. “Clean up, big boy, I’m taking you for the ride of your life.” Jeb wondered if she was referring to the car or to something more enthralling. Laura was his best friend, but when it came to sex, she was more an advisor than a participant. He looked toward the driveway. “Nice wheels.” Laura followed his gaze. “Graduation present from Daddy.” Jeb thought that “Daddy” overindulged his only daughter. “A little premature, don’t you think? We’ve still got one more exam.” “Don’t be so anal retentive. We’ll do just fine.” She dangled the keys in front of his face. He was tempted, but too much was at stake for him to waste any time at all. “I need to study.”

Her lips folded into a pout. “Well, you can’t do it on an empty stomach. Let me take you to dinner. My treat.” “Can’t.” She dropped the keys into her new, red-leather, Gucci shoulder bag. “OK. We’ll order pizza and stay up all night studying.” Laura was not in the habit of staying overnight. Jeb tried to envision what she had in mind. Did it have something to do with taking him for the ride of his life? Even if she only intended to study, he was glad for the company—relieved to have someone to keep him awake. Before he could respond, the telephone rang. He picked up the handset. “Speak.” Nothing could have prepared him for the response. “Jeb? Thank God it’s you.” The room seemed devoid of oxygen. His mind shut down, refusing to process impossible fantasy. His arms shook, and hot coffee splashed onto his hand. He failed to feel the pain. “Who is this?” “It’s me, love.” He wondered if he had pushed himself into insanity. Did fatigue cause hallucinations? Had his mind recreated that voice to fill the void that substituted for his emotions? He should have hung up. He knew that it was a subterfuge, but he kept the receiver to his ear. “Where are you?” “Joe’s Bar. Hurry.” The phone disconnected. Jeb felt like a dying man following that tunnel of light to who knows where. He gripped the counter to regain his balance. Laura caught his arm. “Are you all right?” He leaned forward until the dizziness ed. He then lifted his head and tried to look confident in the lie. “I’m fine. Just didn’t get any sleep last night.” He was anything except fine. He knew that voice—the tone, the accent, the vulnerability. It had once been his favorite sound. Now it was some cruel hoax—some trick— someone’s pathetic prank. It couldn’t belong to Cristina. Cristina was dead.

Jeb returned the handset to its cradle and searched for some explanation that did not invoke the occult. He fought back tears and ignored the trembling that took control of his body. His thoughts broke through the barriers he had erected years ago and returned to Spanish III class at the University of North Carolina his freshman year when he first saw her. Happenstance placed her in the seat next to him. She took his breath away. A pink sling ed her left arm. She explained that she had fallen in Pilates class. He offered to carry her books. Cristina was of Italian origin—northern Italian with brown hair, blue eyes, and a smile that convinced Jeb that they could be soul mates. By the end of that year, he knew that premonition was right on target. He loved the smell of her perfume. Euphoria, she called it, and that seemed appropriate because that was the response the whole package evoked in him. She left Chapel Hill at the end of the spring session, saying she was going home to Atlanta and promising to meet him for the summer session. When she failed to return, he called her cell and received a message that it was no longer in service. He drove to Atlanta and searched for her. There must be umpteen Peachtree avenues and streets in that city but none matched the address she had given him for her home. He returned to Chapel Hill empty handed. A week later, a woman called. “This is Cristina’s mother,” she sobbed. “Cristina was in an accident.” She explained that an SUV had T-boned her daughter’s Mitsubishi 3000 GT. Cristina died at the scene. Now someone was trying to re-inflict the pain. The girl who called could not be Cristina, but who was she? Why would she play such a sick joke? The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He wanted nothing to do with this charade, but the voice had been too real to ignore. Laura walked to the sink and brought him a glass of water. “I think you should sit down.” He drank it all in one gulp. “I’ve got to go.” Her face turned the color of her hair. “What? Who was that?”

Jeb had never lied to Laura, but the truth was too bizarre to repeat. “Just the guys. We’re supposed to study tonight.” “I thought you were studying with me.” “It won’t work. You have international law. I’ve got civil litigation.” Laura stood with her mouth open while Jeb walked to the garage door. He climbed into his faded-blue Ford Fusion and waited for Laura to slosh through the rain to move her BMW. This time he was the one to screech tires as he hurried out of the driveway.

CHAPTER 5

Angie set the handset down and rested her head against the interior wall of the phone booth. The rain had stopped, but moisture hung in the warm air, and the wind beat against the glass. She took a moment to catch her breath. Her legs ached from running. It felt good to rest, or maybe it just felt safe concealed inside the boxy structure. She knew she had to get to Jeb soon, but the men with guns were close. If they spotted her, she would never make it. She realized that coming to North Carolina was a mistake. She could have just called and told him that dangerous men were coming for him and that he needed to hide, but she doubted that he would have believed her. After all, he thought she had been dead for eight years, and if she had lied to him then, why should he trust her now? She wasn’t sure how they had found her, but she knew that she had to get away and to warn Jeb before they found him. Otherwise, he was going to die. He had done nothing to deserve being dragged into her nightmare. She regretted the lies and deceptions. In the end, what good had they done? Her life was broken. It had been that way for as long as she could and always would be. Always was an optimistic term. The odds of her surviving the night, much less a week or month, were miniscule. She cracked the door and peered up and down the street. Thirty feet away, two men sat on the sidewalk, sharing a bottle of gin. They wore dirty clothes and talked too loud, but she sensed no threat from them. Drops of rain fell onto the pavement. The vagrants ignored them. The closest one laughed and ed the bottle to his intoxicated friend. Angie thought of waiting for the rain to stop, but surmised from the dark clouds that the storm would not end anytime soon. Her vanity felt misplaced, but she did not want to look like a wet rat when she entered Joe’s Bar. Arriving alive should have been her first priority. She looked across the street and jerked her head back into the booth. Two men wearing heavy trench coats walked along the sidewalk, looking in every window.

There was only one reason to wear such apparel in the 85-degree, North Carolina heat—to conceal their weapons. She crouched on the floor and fought to maintain her composure. A sharp mind was her best defense. It was the only thing that had kept her alive all those years. She resisted the urge to look again. That would only increase the chances that they would see her. She waited a full five minutes before scanning the area and stepping to the sidewalk. The street appeared deserted except for the two drunks who stared at her handbag as if it contained a liter of Bacardi rum. One of the men stood and walked toward her. She hurried in the opposite direction.

Joe’s Bar thrived a block from the Duke campus. Angie stepped out of the rain and through the doorway. The scent of beer filled her nostrils. She merged with the swarm of students. Exams had ended that day for many of them. The laughter and loud talking brought back memories of that time when she had dared to dream of a normal life. She glanced back at the street before taking in every aspect of the room. It was big with a large mirror that took all the space above the bar. Two walls had been painted Duke blue, and two, Carolina blue. Large photos of J. J. Reddick, Vince Carter, Christian Laettner, and Michael Jordan in opposing basketball uniforms reminded anyone who lived in ignorance that this was basketball country. Booths lined the walls, and small round tables occupied the central floor. Thirsty patrons occupied them all. College kids stood pressed against each other in the crowded space between the tables and the bar. A short line extended from the restrooms to the right of the bar, and a single door with an exit sign over it marked the center of the rear wall. Angelina wiggled her way to the back booth. Two young men sat opposite each other. They wore T-shirts displaying logos for their respective schools: a ram for Carolina and a devil for Duke. She offered the students twenty dollars for their table. Duke patted the seat beside him. “Why don’t you just us and keep your money?”

“I’m expecting someone.” “There’s room for four.” She pulled a second twenty from her purse. “It’s kind of like an anniversary. Please?” The boys relinquished the table without accepting her money. She thanked them and slid onto the seat. She thought of the good times she had shared with Jeb in that very spot. Those days existed in the past and would never come again. They should never have happened in the first place. She had been young and careless then. Now Jeb would have to pay the price. She regretted what she had to do. It was not fair. Jeb had no idea how much his life was about to change. I hope he will believe me. If he doesn’t, they’ll kill him.

Jeb stormed into Joe’s Bar. He felt like a fool. Cristina was dead. She could not have been on the phone. He should be back in his house studying with Laura. He wondered if his classmates could be playing a joke, but that seemed odd since they should be as obsessed by exams as he was. Whoever it is has a sick mind. This is a waste of time. I should never have left Laura like that. She looked really pissed. He stared at the people at the tables and those standing by the bar. Some of the girls were attractive, and one of them met his gaze and did not look away. He broke eye and continued his search. She was not Cristina. He hung his umbrella by the door and pushed his way through the crowd until the scent of Euphoria swept him to the back booth. He stared at the woman who occupied the bench facing the door. Her light blue blouse and navy skirt were wrinkled as if she had slept in them and not had the time or inclination to find replacements. She had a nice figure and appeared about five-feet, eight-inches tall, like Cristina, but she was seated, making it hard to be sure. Blonde hair hung over her shoulders. Cristina had been a brunette, but that was easy enough to change with a bottle of L’Oreal. This girl was older, but eight years had ed since Cristina died. She should have been older. Familiar blue eyes met his gaze. She spoke in a whisper with a voice he could never forget. “Have a seat, Jeb.”

CHAPTER 6

Jeb caught his breath. He found himself unable to speak. His feet stumbled forward to the bench across from the woman whose death had once destroyed his will to live. He looked forward, almost in a trance, gaping at the apparition that could not be. She touched his hand as if to prove that her body was made of ordinary matter. He wanted to pull her across the table, to mold her against his body, and to make her swear never to leave his sight again, but she had deceived him, and he was not sure he could ever trust her again. “I left flowers on your grave.” She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry.” He thought of how her choices had crushed his dreams. “Sorry? You sucked the life out of me. I couldn’t go back to school. Everything reminded me of you.” “I heard you left Carolina and ed the army—went to Afghanistan.” “Yeah. I didn’t have the guts to kill myself. I sort of hoped the Taliban would do it for me.” “I was trying to protect you.” Nothing she said made any sense. He did not know what to believe. “How are you alive?” She lowered her gaze to the table. “I faked my death so you wouldn’t try to find me.” He ignored the pounding in his chest. The girl he had known would never have done that. He had been her best friend. He had thought they would stay together forever. “But your mother called. She said you’d been in an accident.” “My mother died before we met. A friend made that call for me.”

She had often spoken of her mother as the perfect parent, always in the present tense. It was impossible to understand her duplicity. He had told her everything about his life and his family and his dreams. She had told him nothing but lies. “Why? I loved you.” “I know, but—” She looked over his head. Her eyes widened. “Oh god!” “What?” She pulled her hand free from his grasp and sprang from her seat. “Don’t follow me.”

Angie shoved her way through the mass of intoxicated students, reached the back door, flung it open, and ran into the lane behind Joe’s Bar. The narrow stretch of pavement seemed to extend forever, providing only enough space for small trucks to move one way to the rear entrances of establishments that backed up to it. She prayed that Jeb would not leave his seat. She didn’t want him to die. A man stepped out of the shadows at the end of the alley. Angie recognized his face. She spun in the opposite direction, knocking over a trashcan. Jeb appeared in the doorway. She yelled at him. “Go back!” He sprinted toward her. “Wait!” She hurtled over the concrete pathway. Three muscle-bound men slammed through the doorway from Joe’s Bar. One of them shouted, “Angelina, stop!” She hoped that Jeb did not hear. Her name was the least of the fabrications she had fed him during those fateful months. She had planned to come clean and to tell him the truth about everything, but the time had never seemed right. None of it mattered anyway. They’ll kill us both. A gun fired.

Jeb winced as a bullet sprayed brick fragments from the wall beside him into his arm. He forced his legs to keep moving. What the hell. They’re trying to kill us.

What has Cristina done? He looked back. Four muscular brutes ran toward him. They all carried pistols. Jeb sprinted into high gear. Cristina had shunned sports. This woman ran like Maria Sharapova. Jeb struggled to keep her in sight. She reached the street. The gun fired again. She sped around the corner. Jeb followed. Cristina covered two blocks in record time. His breaths came in gasps. I can’t catch her. What if she disappears again? I’ll never find her. She pivoted onto a side street. Jeb reached it just as she turned left at the next block. He looked back. The men were out of sight. He scurried after her and rounded the corner. The alley extended one hundred-fifty feet with the only sign of life being a stray pit bull rummaging through a garbage can. The container turned over, releasing its load of fish scraps with their distinct odor. She’s gone. Jeb stopped running and bent forward, gasping for breath. His calf muscles tightened, forcing him to stretch his legs to fight the cramps. After a minute, the pain eased, and he limped forward. Cristina had not had time to reach the next block. He stared at the service-entry doors that lined each side of the narrow ageway. A small sign over each exit depicted the establishments they guarded. Halfway down the lane, he found what he was looking for—a place that elicited memories of a happier time, a place where he had brought Cristina on numerous occasions before she “died,” a place where Cristina might feel safe. He pushed through the entryway to The Blue Devil Club. College kids filled the room. He bumped into a girl and almost knocked her down. She caught her balance, straightened her miniskirt, and slapped him on the cheek. “Watch it, buster.” Jeb scanned the room. She’s not here. He looked at the girl. “Sorry. Did you see a woman come through the door?” She wrinkled her brow and studied his physique like a chef selecting the best selection of meat. Her breath smelled of garlic. “Nope. You want to dance?”

“Can’t.” He moved past her into the cluster of gyrating bodies. Cristina stood watching him from the cover of a post. Sweat soaked her clothes, and she was breathing as heavily as he was. She crossed the floor and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I can’t run anymore.” Jeb tried to slow his breathing. “I think we lost them.” Her eyes looked at him with total trust. “Let’s hope you’re right.” He should have led her out the front door, but he was too tired and too winded to consider that possibility. He thought they could hide amongst the throng of people there. The DJ switched the music to “A Moment Like This.” Jeb pulled out his cell phone and punched in 9-1. Before he hit the final 1, Cristina took the device and punched the disconnect button. “Not a good idea.” He stepped back and stared at her. “Why not? People are trying to kill you.” “The police can’t help us.” Cristina slipped his phone back into his pocket and took his hand. “Dance with me, Jeb.” “What?” She was making no sense. When someone tries to kill you, the police should be the first people you call—unless you’re hiding from them yourself, and Cristina would never get herself into that kind of trouble. She pressed her body against him. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how.” “No, but shouldn’t we be watching the doors?” He scanned the room. All he could see was the swarm of college kids drinking beer, yelling over the music, or clinging to each other as they swayed in synchrony with the tune. Kelly Clarkson sang “My Life would Suck Without You.” It made him think of his life without Cristina. Cristina laughed. It was a tentative one, but a laugh, nonetheless. “Didn’t they teach you to multitask at Carolina? I’ll watch your back if you watch mine.” Jeb wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and moved his feet in rhythm as he tried to stop the stampede of ideas galloping through his head. Why did she pretend to be dead? Why do those men want to make it happen? When

will she vanish again? It felt good to hold her again, but he wanted answers. “Who’s chasing you?” She stopped dancing and nodded toward the back door. “Those people right there.” He stared at the two men. They panted like dogs after a raccoon. Both were Caucasian with dark hair and blue-collar clothes under their raincoats. One of them had a mustache and goatee. The other sported a long scar on his left cheek. Jeb released Cristina. “Who are they?” She ducked behind him. “They aren’t after you. Stay here. I’ll sneak out the front.” He realized that if he let that happen, he would never see her again. “You aren’t going anywhere without me.”

Jeb kept close to Cristina as she circled through the maze of dancers and dashed out the front door. The man with the goatee slammed into a dancer, knocking him to the floor, as he charged after Cristina. She sprinted down the middle of the street, dodging between cars. Jeb struggled to keep up with her and ahead of the men who followed close behind him. His calf cramped as she veered into an alley. He made the turn and hobbled to a stop. A two-by-four board lay at his feet. He picked it up. As the man with the goatee flew around the corner, Jeb swung. The wood slammed against the man’s brow. The thug dropped like a rock, his pistol clattering to the pavement. Before Jeb could react, the second goon collided with him, slamming forehead to forehead and knocking him to the ground. Jeb struggled to keep from losing consciousness. The brick walls that surrounded him seemed to sway, but then grew solid again. His eyes regained their focus, and from flat on his back, he looked up to see his foe draw a forty-five, point it at his face, and pull back the hammer. A crooked smile swept across his face. He said something in a language Jeb had never heard, but the meaning was clear. He was about to die. A gunshot echoed through the alley. The man collapsed, his weapon discharging into the air. Behind him, Cristina stood, holding a thirty-eight-caliber revolver in

her hand. She slipped it back into her purse like a debutante dispensing with her lipstick. Jeb watched in amazement. The Cristina he knew wouldn’t even touch a gun. He stared at the body crumpled on the pavement. “What did he say?” “Prepare to die.” “It wasn’t English.” “No.” A third man, with a pistol in his hand, rounded the corner and charged toward her. Jeb dove for the forty-five. His adversary spun toward him and fired. The bullet struck the pavement and ricocheted into the wall. Jeb pointed the gun at the center of his chest and fired. The man dropped his weapon and stared at the blood soaking through his coat as if he could not believe that it had happened to him. He crashed to the ground. Cristina looked at the crumpled bodies. Her eyes widened as her gaze fixed on the man with the goatee. Jeb climbed to his feet. “Is he dead?” She nodded. “They’re all dead.” Jeb tasted bile in the back of his throat. He fought to avoid vomiting onto the corpse. It was hard to imagine how quickly his life had fallen into the toilet. An hour ago, he had been poised to enter the legal profession. Now he had two deaths on his hands. Why were they after Cristina? What did she do? How will I explain this on my bar application? He climbed to his feet and reached for his cellphone. “We’d better call the police.” Two more men appeared at the other end of the narrow age. Both held pistols in their hands. Cristina grabbed Jeb’s arm. “Run!” They sprinted the two blocks to his car. He tossed the forty-five onto the floor and cranked the engine. A bullet smashed the back window and the windshield. Cristina screamed. Jeb hit the gas. The Ford leapt forward. Another bullet hit the window. More gunshots followed. Jeb jerked the wheel to avoid smashing into a parked car and kept his foot on the accelerator.

CHAPTER 7

Jeb drove in silence, trying to sort the conflicting thoughts that reverberated through his head. Who were those men? Why were they after Cristina? Where has she been for eight years? Has she been hiding all that time? Why did she come back? She lowered the window, adjusted the side mirror, and peered at the street behind them. Her face looked taut, and her posture, tense. Her breathing came almost as labored as his. He reached across the seat and touched her hand. She gripped his palm and looked at the black and blue bruise that dominated his cheek and forehead. “I’m so sorry, Jeb. I almost got you killed.” He didn’t understand why she had deceived him. “You shouldn’t have left. Why didn’t you trust me?” She bit her lip like she used to do whenever she wanted to avoid telling him something. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” “And you didn’t think what you did would hurt?” He tried without success to keep from raising his voice. “I wanted you to forget about me.” She freed her hand from his grip and dropped it into her lap. He could not comprehend why she did not understand how he had felt. “I couldn’t. When I heard that you died, something in me dried up. I had planned to be a doctor—to save lives—but afterward, I didn’t even care about my own life. I didn’t want to live. Nothing mattered anymore. I took lots of risks in Afghanistan. I volunteered to disarm IEDs. My men thought I was brave, but they were wrong. I just didn’t care what happened. Even when I finished my two years in the military and went back to Carolina, I was just going through the motions. I didn’t go back on the basketball team. I was a great guard. I could have been with them when they won the national championship, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore.”

Her face turned red, and her eyes, moist. “Do you think that’s what I wanted?” “I don’t know what you wanted. I thought we had a bond—that we would face whatever came together.” “You didn’t know me, Jeb. Not the real me.” The car veered over the centerline. Jeb gripped the wheel tighter than necessary and regained control. “That’s an understatement. Who are you, and why are you here now?” She looked away from the mirror and stared down at Jeb’s hands. “I came to warn you. Those men. They’re assassins.” “I can see that. What do they want?” “Me, and since you were my boyfriend, they thought you could lead them to me.” “That’s a joke.” “Not a funny one. They could kill us both.” “Are you going to tell me why?” “It doesn’t matter. You need to hide.” “I’m not going anywhere. I have my last exam tomorrow.” She folded her arms in front of her chest and shifted her gaze from him to the road ahead. “OK. You’ve been warned. Can you drop me at the airport?” “No. We’re driving to my house. You aren’t going anywhere without telling me what this is all about.” “She tilted her head back against the seat and closed her eyes without saying another word. Jeb resisted staring at her face. He knew that if he did, all would be lost. He did not want to rekindle the old feelings. She lied to me. Why should I ever trust her again?

Jeb finished the ride to his house without speaking. The shattered windshield limited his vision and reminded him of how close they had both come to dying. The evening seemed surreal, as if he were living someone else’s life. The blood dripping from his arm wound suggested that it was real. He pulled into the garage and closed the door with the remote. Cristina caught his arm. “Are you mad with me?” He wasn’t sure how to answer such a simple question. “Yes—no. I don’t know. How are you alive?” “I’ve been hiding.” Seeing that she was not going to tell him more, he stepped out of the car. “You’ll be safe here,” he said, not realizing how naive that sounded. She opened her door and stepped out of the car. “Nowhere is safe. Please, Jeb. If anything happened—” “Nothing is going to happen. No one knows you are here.” He led her through the garage into the kitchenette. She scanned the room as if she expected to find Ted Bundy concealed behind the couch. Her gaze came to rest on the shed clothes, half-empty coffee mug, and take-out paper bags that cluttered the floor. “Some things never change.” He picked up the mug and set it in the sink. “Maybe if you had stayed, you could have reformed me.” Her lips formed a tentative smile, as if she were unaware how she stood with him. That seemed appropriate, since he had no idea himself. She stared at the red stain on his left shirtsleeve, and the smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “You’re hurt.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing.” She lifted his sweatshirt over his head. “Quit playing macho. I’m not one of your soldier friends.” “Ouch.”

She released his clothes, grabbed the scissors off his counter, and proceeded to cut the sleeve off the shirt. “Sorry, but you shouldn’t be wearing a Duke shirt anyway. You’re a Tarheel.” Her humor went over his head. He was too tired, too angry, and too baffled. At that moment, the rivalry between Carolina and Duke was not a priority. He stared at the four wounds on his arm. None of them were bleeding anymore, but small fragments of brick protruded from two of them. He managed to remove them with his fingers. One of the cuts began to bleed, but it stopped after a couple of minutes. “They’re not deep,” he said. “They’ll be fine.” She squinted at him in a manner that brought back endearing memories. “Do you have a first-aid kit?” “No.” “How about alcohol swabs?” He shrugged. “There’s a fifth of Jack Daniels under the sink. “Things really don’t change, do they?” “Nope.” She retrieved the bottle and poured Jack over the small open wounds. There were clean sheets in the hall closet. She tore one of them into strips and wrapped them around his arm. When she was done, she ired her work. “Pretty good field dressing, if I do say so myself.” He looked at it and nodded. “You ready to talk about it?” Her smile faded. “Tomorrow. I haven’t slept for forty-eight hours. My legs are about to collapse. “What about the three bodies we left in that alley. Don’t you think we should call the police?” She gripped his arm as if to capture his full attention. “Not if you want to live. Those men had friends. If they discover who you are, it’s all over.”

Jeb did not like the way she scoffed at the law. He had dedicated three years of his life studying to enter that profession. She was asking him to risk throwing it all away. “What the fuck is going on? Who were those men?” She recoiled as if he had slapped her. “It’s complicated. I promise I’ll tell you everything in the morning.” It wasn’t the answer that he wanted, but he had been in the dark for eight years. He could wait one more night. “The bedroom is down that hall. Go lie down. You look like you haven’t slept in a week. I’ll be out here if you decide you want to talk.” “Thanks.” She walked to the front of the house and checked the lock. “I’m sorry for being such an ass.” “Try to get some sleep.” She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. A few minutes later, she reappeared wearing his bathrobe and kissed him on the cheek. “I really missed you.” He tried to be civil. “You shouldn’t have left.” She disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the door cracked open.

CHAPTER 8

Raul lay flat on his back in bed with Heidi riding astride him with one hand on his chest and the other in the air like a cowgirl on a bucking bronco. Her blue eyes and pale skin reminded him of Angie. He forced that thought from his mind. He didn’t want to cum too soon. He dug his fingers into her buttocks and groaned just as the phone rang. She stopped like a crowbar had slammed into her gears. “Want me to get that, Mr. Laudicino?” Raul shoved her so hard that she fell off the bed. He ripped the handset off its base. “This had better be important.” The Russian accent worried him. “We found what you were looking for.” Heidi pulled herself to her feet. “That hurt.” “Shut up.” The voice from the telephone deepened. “Who was that?” “Nobody. Just a whore.” “Did you hear what I said?” “Yeah.” Raul had hired Marat Sokolov to find Angie and to bring her to him. Marat’s father ruled the Russian mob in Miami, but Marat did some work on the side if the price was substantial enough. Raul planned to take her to his stepfather’s shack in the Everglades. No one went there anymore. No one would bother them. No one would hear her screams. “Good work. Bring her to the cabin, and I’ll give you the $100,000.” “We don’t have her. She got away.” “What’da ya mean? Don’t play games with me.”

“She connected with that boyfriend. They killed Yefin and one of my men.” Raul took a deep breath. He wanted to catch Angie alive. Marat would kill her if she killed his brother. “She’s just a girl, and he’s a college student. How could that happen?” “They got lucky, but we know where they are now.” “Then do what I’m paying you to do.” “Don’t worry. This is personal now.” Raul slammed the phone down and glared at Heidi, who had found her clothes and was fastening her bra. “What the hell are you doing?” Her lips shivered. “I thought we were done.” He threw her onto the bed and thought of Angie. “We’re done when I say we’re done.”

Jeb felt as exhausted as Cristina looked, but sleep was not on his menu. His final exam would take place at eight o’clock in the morning whether he was prepared or not. That test was all that stood between graduation and failure. Laura’s dad, William Mason Tucker, had a job waiting for him at Tucker, Edwards & Smith, the most prestigious law firm in Charlotte. He could start as soon as he graduated but would have to the North Carolina Bar exam in July. He thought about Laura. She had looked anything but pleased when he had sent her home. They weren’t exactly an item, but they had been friends since he had returned to UNC. It had been her dream to become an attorney, and she had convinced him to give it a try. His grades weren’t good enough to get into the Carolina law school, but her dad had pulled some strings at Duke. He was thankful that she was not here waiting when he returned home with his exgirlfriend. He sat at his desk and flipped through the pages of his text. The words ed through his mind without pausing. He tried to concentrate, but thinking about anything except Cristina was impossible with her lying naked in his bed in the

next room. He walked out onto the back porch. The rain had stopped, and the air smelled of honeysuckle. A cool breeze blew through the screen. He did multiple repetitions lifting his barbells, but the exercise did nothing to improve his concentration. He returned to the kitchen table and flipped through the pages of his text. Thoughts of Christina pushed away all the nuances of civil litigation. He struggled to memorize court decisions and interpretations of the constitution until five a.m. when he stripped to his shorts and fell asleep on the couch.

Jeb pulled himself off the cushions at 6:45 in the morning and peered through the open bedroom door. Cristina was sleeping under the covers. She looked small and vulnerable, but he ed how skillfully she had used her thirtyeight to kill that man in the alley. She had seemed a lot calmer than he felt, and he had spent a year in a combat zone. Granted, his job had been to diffuse bombs, and he had never killed anyone until last night, but he had seen a lot of people die. He continued down the hallway to the bathroom, emptied his bladder, and brushed his teeth. Then he heard the front door open. That’s not possible. Cristina is still in the bedroom. He stood still, listening. A floorboard creaked. His heart raced. He thought of the pistol that he had left on the floor of his car. Why didn’t I keep it with me? Footsteps approached from the living room. Jeb ripped the towel rack from the wall. It made a pathetic weapon, but it was all he could find. Its s clattered to the floor as Laura stepped into the hallway. She frowned. “You OK?” Jeb laid the frame on the sink and stammered, “Fine. Just broke the rack again.” Her voice lacked its usual confidence. “I used my key. Hope you didn’t mind.” “No. Of course not.” She stared at his bruised face. “My God. What happened to you?” Before Jeb could think of a plausible lie, she stepped toward him, stopping

abruptly at the open bedroom door. Her mouth fell open. She stared into the room and then looked back at Jeb. “Up studying all night, I see. No wonder you left so fast.” He dropped his toothbrush onto the counter and stepped out of the bathroom. “You’ve got it all wrong.” She pivoted on her high heels, walked to the front door, and opened it. Before he could reach her, she stopped him with one word. “Asshole.”

Laura slammed the door. Jeb watched from the front window as she threw her new car into reverse, backed over his mailbox, and sped out of sight without slowing to access the damage. He walked back to his bedroom. His guest sat on the side of the king bed, wearing a frown and nothing else. He caught his breath. The Cristina he had known never undressed unless the lights were off and even then seemed hesitant. This new boldness was out of character. It puzzled him, but he did not all together disapprove. She lay back on her pillow. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were involved with anyone.” He tried without success to divert his gaze. “It’s OK. She’ll get over it. We’re just friends.” Cristina lifted an eyebrow. “Does she know that?” “Sure.” She lifted the top sheet above her breasts and wrapped it under her arms. “Have you had sex with her?” “Yeah, a few times, but it was nothing serious.” “Right, and what planet did you say you were from?” “Jupiter, I guess.” “Where the men get stupider.”

They laughed together. Jeb looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go. My last exam is in fifteen minutes.” Her eyes widened, but she quickly recovered. “You look tired. Have you been up all night?” “Mostly, but I’m fine. Don’t you move until I get back.” She lay back under the covers, resting her head on the pillow. “I’ll be here.” As he turned to leave, he saw the forty-five resting on the table beside her watch. He wondered how it had gotten there and hoped that Laura had not seen it. Explaining why the naked girl in his bedroom carried a pistol was going to be awkward.

Jeb stepped into the garage, stared at the bullet holes in his windshield, and realized that he would not be driving to class. It forced him to reconsider leaving without having that talk with Cristina. Someone was trying to kill her. Wasn’t that more important than anything else on his agenda? He wanted to know where she had gone and why. Who was chasing her, and what would it take to make them leave her alone? Why did that thug call her Angelina? Was that her real name, and was everything he ever knew about her a sham? That seemed to be the only thing about her that he could be sure was true. She had never been the girl she claimed to be. She had pretended to be someone she wasn’t and then had dumped him. Why should he care where she had been or where she was going now? He had to concentrate on this test. His future depended upon it. Fortunately his house was only four blocks from the west campus. He jogged past the Duke Chapel and arrived for his test only five minutes late. The professor awarded him with a scowl. “If you show up for court this late, the judge will find you in contempt.” “Yes, sir.” The professor stared at the black and blue bruises on Jeb’s face. “Have you been in a fight?”

Jeb was too tired and too stressed to improvise a worthy lie. “I ran into a door.” “That judge would charge you with perjury.” When Jeb did not respond, the man slapped a test booklet into his hand. Jeb carried it to his desk and tried to ignore the curious glances of his classmates. His friend Adam McCall sat in a front seat. He was a tall, ivy-league-type guy from Boston with brown hair, blue eyes, and an accent that mimicked Jack Kennedy. He looked at the bruise, smiled, and gave Jeb a thumbs-up that fortunately the professor did not see. Jeb pretended not to notice the gesture. Adam must have talked to Laura. He thinks I was up all night with the naked lady in my bed. Jeb closed his eyes, took several deep breaths, and tried to force Adam, Cristina, Laura, and the three dead bodies from his mind. He regretted allowing Cristina to go to bed without telling him where she had been and why she had left. Who were those men, and why were they chasing her? Have they been after her all these years? Is that why she ran away? Could they track her to my house? Why did I leave her alone?

Angie looked into Jeb’s closet. She found six pairs of pants, two sport coats, one suit, and ten shirts—all men’s clothes. She surmised that Laura was not a regular sleep-over guest. The single toothbrush and absence of cosmetics and tampons in the bathroom reinforced that impression. The kitchen cabinet contained two cans of corn beef hash, instant coffee, two chocolate bars, and one can of tomato soup. The refrigerator was equally bare: a pitcher of iced tea, a re-corked bottle of Asti Spumante, butter, milk, a bowl of spaghetti that looked at least a week old, and three frozen TV dinners. Jeb was definitely prepared to move out soon. His computer required no s, and he had not emptied his e-mail trash for months. The reason became obvious. Most of his messages, even those to and from Laura, related to school. He had nothing to hide. She wondered if he realized how much his life was about to change. She checked the lamps, the doorknobs, and the cabinets. They contained no

hidden cameras or recorders. Then she disassembled the telephone. The handset contained a small wireless transmitter. She crushed it with her shoe and tossed it into the trash. So that’s how they learned about Joe’s Bar. She found no other listening devices and wondered if one could be hidden in the ceiling. The bathroom held the trap door to the attic. She climbed onto the sink, pushed aside the wooden square that sealed the opening, and climbed into the crawl space under the roof. The morning was young, but the sun had already made the air hot. Limited light came through a small vent. Angie looked for an electric light switch but could not find one. She thought of the flashlight in the kitchen and crawled back to the bathroom opening. As she climbed through it, she heard the front door crash open. She jerked her legs back into the attic and slipped the covering back over the hole. Men’s voices filtered through the plaster and wood. She could not understand the words, but the anger was obvious. Feet stomped through the house. Drawers opened and closed. Furniture crashed to the floor. Angie wondered how long it would take for the men to finish downstairs and to reach the attic. She wanted to crawl along the plywood floor to the protection of a beam fifteen feet away but was afraid to move. If anyone heard, her life would end. Why did I leave my purse and pistol in the bedroom? Now they know I’ve been here, and I have no way to stop them. The voices grew louder, and then fell silent. Angie had no way of knowing whether the men had left or if they were hiding and waiting for her to return. Fifteen minutes ed. She hoped that the law exam would last all day. If he comes back, they’ll kill him. The heat grew worse. She thought it was due to the sun until the scent of fire assaulted her nostrils. She jerked the hatch off the ceiling and peered into the bathroom. Flames leapt from the floor, and smoke billowed into the loft.

CHAPTER 9

Jeb reached the last question after Adam and most of the other students had left. HOW DO THE RULES OF CIVIL PROCEDURE DIFFER FROM THOSE OF CRIMINAL PROCEDURE? They saved the easiest question for the grand finale. The proctor pointed at his watch, indicating that time was short. A policeman entered the room. He was a big man with black hair, dark eyes, and a deep scowl. He whispered something to the proctor, who frowned and pointed to Jeb. Jeb’s hand tightened around his pencil, and he heard it crack. It grew clear that this all-important final exam was irrelevant. I’ll never practice law. I’m going to jail. I killed those men and ran away without calling the police. Why did I listen to Cristina? Any jury in the country would convict me on that evidence alone. The cop walked up the aisle and stopped at his desk. “Mr. Jeb Grant?” Jeb nodded his head. “How much insurance do you have on your house?” His question and the somber way he delivered it confused Jeb. What does my insurance have to do with three dead men in an alley? “It’s a rental. Why?” “It’s on fire.” The synapses in Jeb’s brain were slow to respond. He doesn’t know. I’m not going to jail. Then he thought of Cristina and could hardly catch his breath. He had left her there alone. “The girl? Is she all right?” “What girl?” “The one in my house. Did she get out?” “I don’t know. I just got the call a few minutes ago.”

“Can you take me there?” He hesitated as if trying to decide if this was some subterfuge to postpone the arrest for arson. “Sure.” Jeb jumped out of his seat and ran toward the door.

The police car with lights flashing slid to a stop behind two fire trucks and the Channel Five television van. Jeb ejected himself from the vehicle and pushed through the horde of neighbors who converged around the property to gawk at the fire. Five firemen handled the hoses that sprayed water onto the roof from which flames soared. Jeb ran to the nearest fireman, and yelled, “Did you get the girl get out?” The puzzled expression on the man’s face said it all. “What girl?” “Oh my god!” Jeb ran across the lawn, sprang up the stairs, and crashed open the door. Smoke and hot air billowed out. He charged inside. “Cristina!” The fumes assaulted his lungs. He coughed and struggled to breathe as he moved toward the kitchen. The smoke blinded him. He collided with the table. Dishes crashed onto the linoleum. He looked back toward the door. All he could see was smoke. He dropped to the floor. From that prospective, he could see the opening to the hall. Cristina had been in the bedroom. He crawled to it. The ceiling fell behind him. The heat burned his face and hands. He could not get enough air. His eyes hurt. He closed them and moved forward on his hands and knees. He reached the bedroom and forced his eyes to open. Flames consumed his bed. “No!” The coughing would not stop. His chest ached. His breathing came in gasps. His head fell to the floor. An image of Cristina engulfed in flames filled his mind. He tried to scream, but no sound came forth. His head collapsed onto the rug.

Raul, Carmine, and Orsino sat in rocking chairs on the porch of the cabin overlooking a shallow lake in the Everglades north of Miami. Mosquitos buzzed about their heads. Raul swatted the back of his neck. “Damn blood-suckers.” Carmine pointed to two buzzards perched on a tree overlooking the swamp. “Wonder what they’re watching for.” Raul took a deep drag on his cigarette and thought of the two other times he had brought men here to express his displeasure. “Maybe they’ve seen this scene before.” A car approached on the narrow dirt road that dead-ended at the building. The doors opened. Brizio and the two enforcers he had taken with him to New Orleans stepped to the ground. He called to Raul, “Sorry we’re late. You know how the airlines are.” Raul shrugged as if one more insult didn’t matter. “Not a problem. Tell your compatriots they can leave. This is a private meeting.” The color drained from Brizio’s face. “You can trust them. They’re good men.” “I know. I hired them, but we don’t need them for today’s business.” “What business?” “Tell them to go.” Brizio waved them off. They climbed back into the car and drove away. “You aren’t mad, are you? We did everything you asked.” Raul had planned to spend the whole day with Angie. If Brizio had just done his job, she would be here now, waiting inside the cabin for him. “I told you to bring Angelina here. Do you see her anywhere? I don’t.” “Somebody warned her. She was on to us.” He took a step backward. Carmine and Orsino pulled their pistols from under their windbreakers. Raul walked to Brizio and confiscated his glock. “I think you got sloppy.” “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s a little late for that. It took eight years to find her, and now she’s gone. What do you think I should do about that?” “Just give me a chance. I’ll find her.” “You failed. I’ve already made other arrangements.” “What do you mean?” “It doesn’t concern you. Take off your clothes.” “What?” “You heard me?” “Why?” Because if you don’t, Orsino is going to shoot off both your knee caps.” Raul could almost smell the fear. Nothing scares a man like losing his clothes and having his Johnson sticking out where anyone can chop it off. Brizio did as instructed, leaving everything in a pile at his feet. Carmine gathered them up and set them on the porch. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Raul motioned with his head. “Let’s go.” He walked behind the dilapidated house. An airboat floated next to a short dock that extended ten feet into the marsh. “Climb aboard. We’re going for a ride.” Brizio looked as if he had been told to climb into his own coffin. Carmine nudged him with a pistol. He staggered aboard. His captors followed. Carmine started the motor. The craft skimmed across the marsh, dashing over sawgrass and around cypress trees. It came to a stop one hundred yards from the cabin. Brizio looked as if he could vomit. “Please don’t shoot me. I’ll do anything you want.” Raul laughed. “I know. That’s why I’m not going to shoot you.” “What do you want? Name anything.” “I want you to get out of the boat.”

“Brizio’s eyes widened. “But there’s gators out here.” Raul looked in every direction. “I don’t see any gators. That’s all a myth. You have to do this to prove your loyalty. I know you’re a good swimmer. We’ll meet you back at the cabin and everything will be forgiven.” Brizio stood and stared out over the water. Instead of jumping, he vomited over the side of the boat. Orsino shoved him over the edge. “Creep. Look what a mess he made.” Brizio floundered and then stood up in the waist-deep water. Raul laughed again. “See. Didn’t I tell you there’s nothing to worry about? We’ll see you at the cabin.” He nodded to Carmine. The airboat turned and retraced its path until Raul told Carmine to stop.” Orsino’s mouth fell open. “You aren’t changing your mind, are you?” Raul leaned back in his seat and stared at the frantic man floundering in the saw grass. “Of course not. I just want to watch.” Brizio swam and waded and stumbled toward them. He flailed his arms. “Come back!” Raul waved but did not give the command to help him. Ten minutes ed. Brizio came within thirty feet of the boat. Raul was about to tell Carmine to restart the engine when he heard a piercing scream. Orsino pointed as a huge alligator surfaced with their colleague’s leg in his mouth. “Look at the size of that monster.” Raul smiled as his former lieutenant disappeared beneath the surface. “I guess that wasn’t a myth after all.”

Angie stopped running and bent at the hips, gasping for air. She had covered at least three miles since kicking out the attic vent and jumping. She did not know where she was—just that no one had followed. Her right ankle hurt from the collision with the ground, and all her muscles ached. When her breathing slowed, she lifted her head and looked in every direction.

Low-income houses lined the street. Most of them were in poor repair. The sidewalk stood empty with nobody in sight except for an elderly black woman who watched from the second floor window of a dilapidated, unpainted, woodframe house. Angie stood with her hands on her hips for several minutes until her calf muscles allowed her to walk, this time at a brisk walk. She had no idea where she was heading, just that it was away from the fire and the men who had started it. Half an hour ed. The street emptied into a major road. She followed it and hobbled through a parking lot to through the sliding glass doors of a Walmart Superstore. The cool space was a welcome change. She ed the greeter who sniffed the air and stared in silence at her torn blouse and soot-soiled jeans, which smelled of smoke. Angie knew that she stood out like a gypsy in Tiffany. Walking without a limp was impossible, and her breathing remained short from running and from the smoke she inhaled. She needed a shower and new clothes, but the fire had incinerated her cash, credit cards, and identification. Her only solace was the knowledge that she had eluded the men who pursued her, at least for the moment. They would find her if she did not leave Durham, but that was not an option—at least, not yet. She had led them to Jeb, and now he would never be safe again. He had no idea of the danger he faced. She had to find him and convince him to hide with her. Otherwise he would not survive. She knew that she could not do it alone. Only someone with power, money, and an absence of scruples could protect them, and that came with a price—one she had avoided for a decade. Help was only a call away, and she did not have change for the pay phone. She wandered through the aisles of electronic equipment, and without looking up, bumped against a middle-aged man in a dark suit. He apologized and resumed looking at video equipment. Soon he would reach the cashier and discover that he had misplaced his wallet. By then it would be too late. Angie hurried to the exit.

CHAPTER 10

Jeb awoke in an ambulance. A medic blew air into his lungs through a mask over his face. He coughed and spat a wad of black phlegm out of his mouth. His breaths came in gasps. He could not stop coughing. Then his stomach turned, and he vomited all over the man who was keeping him alive. He groaned and tried to sit, but a leather strap kept him on the stretcher. His chest rattled and wheezed as he struggled to bring in enough air. He stared at his fingers and wondered why they were blue. He could not breathe fast enough. Someone tried to put something into his mouth, but he shook his head. The restraint across his chest came loose, and he pulled himself upright and coughed some more, bringing up another glob of black gunk. The medic fitted an oxygen mask onto his face, and his mind cleared. He looked around the small space, hoping to find Cristina, but instead saw the policeman sitting across from two medics. Am I under arrest? The man’s somber expression suggested that was the case. Jeb pulled off the mask and struggled to communicate, hacking out one word. “Cristina?” The officer wrinkled his brow, frowned, and then shook his head. Jeb was not sure if he did not understand or if he meant that she was dead. The medic had no patience with Jeb’s lack of cooperation. He pulled the mask back over his face and held it in place while Jeb fought another coughing spell. The ambulance jerked to a stop. Men in white coats and surgical scrubs wheeled Jeb through the doors of Duke University Hospital emergency room. The sterile smell of alcohol and the sight of nurses and twenty-first century equipment gave him hope that his life was not about to end.

Doctor Aaron Schwartz appeared as soon as the medics transferred Jeb from the stretcher to a hospital cot. He was a young man with a short, military-style

haircut and a type-A demeanor. He used his stethoscope to listen to the wheezes that Jeb could hear without any help. He asked about the bruises on Jeb’s face and the cuts on his arm and waited for his patient to stop coughing. He listened to Jeb’s claim that the injury occurred during the fire, but his expression suggested that he knew the answer was fabrication. The doctor noted the tenderness and red discoloration of the skin on Jeb’s face and arms and mumbled something about first-degree burns. “It’s like sunburn— should heal in a few days. The firemen got you out in time.” Jeb took a deep breath and coughed again. “Does that mean I can go home?” The man pointed to the oxygen mask. “Definitely not. You inhaled a lot of smoke. We need to keep an eye on you for several days.” “What about Cristina? Is she all right?” “Who?” “She was in the house. Did she get out?” “You were the only survivor that they brought here.” The room seemed to shrink in size. The wheezing grew worse. Jeb looked toward the door as if Cristina should walk through it. Where is she? Did she die in the fire? If not, she would be here. Wouldn’t she?

As soon as Doctor Schwartz left, the cop who had driven Jeb to the fire pulled back the curtain. “Feeling better?” Jeb responded with a thumb-up gesture. “Strong as Mia Hamm.” The policeman wrinkled his forehead again, revealing his lack of knowledge of college and professional soccer. His ignorance evaporated any element of trust that he had tried to establish. He wasted no more effort on pleasantries. This time he showed his badge and introduced himself as Durham Police Officer Marcus Miller. “Why did you start the fire?”

“What?” “You heard it right? We found the gasoline cans behind the house.” Jeb shuddered. His hope, irrational as it seemed, had been that it was all an accident. Now there was no doubt. Cristina was right. Nowhere is safe. Those men, whoever they are, will kill us both. “I didn’t start it. Why would I?” “How much insurance do you carry?” “None. I told you. It’s a rental. I’m due to move out next week.” “How did you bruise your face?” “I fell against a door.” Miller folded his arms in front of his chest and glared at Jeb as if he wanted to shake the truth out of him. “Why did you pull that stunt at the fire?” Jeb cleared his throat and spit more black sputum into a cup the nurse had left on his bed stand. “It wasn’t a stunt. Someone was inside.” “No, they weren’t. The firemen searched every room before we got there.” “So she’s alive?” “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Jeb lost interest in talking to the cop. Cristina was alive. That was all that mattered. He stopped himself before digging a deeper hole. Cristina was already officially dead. He had no idea what she had done to get into this mess, but she seemed to think her survival depended upon staying incognito. “I guess I was wrong. Nobody was there.” “Let’s cut the crap. Who was the woman?” “You just said there was no woman. I went into the house to get my computer.” “That’s bullshit.” “I want a lawyer.”

“You’re going to need one if you don’t answer my questions.” Jeb closed his eyes and waited for the cop to leave.

After Officer Miller stormed from the room, Jeb realized what a stupid mistake he had made. By asking for an attorney, he convinced the man that he was guilty of something. What if he connected me to the dead men? What if Cristina left the gun in my bedroom? What if the people that were chasing us kidnapped her? Shouldn’t I tell Officer Miller everything? An orderly rolled Jeb to a semiprivate room. The afternoon sun penetrated a single window to provide a modicum of light. An elderly man in the opposite bed watched Fox News on the television. The curtain between the beds hung open negating any privacy it may have provided. As soon as Jeb settled into his new bed, the man diverted his attention to him. “What happened to you, sonny?” One thing Jeb had learned in law school was that anyone facing prosecution should keep his mouth shut. Anything you said could be used against you. He pretended to be too sick to answer. An orderly brought a tray of food and set it on the table beside the bed. He left without offering to help. Jeb propped himself on one elbow and looked at the cuisine: peas, carrots, overcooked chicken, and a bowl of liquid that smelled like chicken broth. He drank the soup and wondered why a hospital would use so much salt. He tried to rest, but the oxygen left his nose dry, and his mouth still tasted of vomit. He had missed breakfast, and his lunch had been pathetic. His stomach was not accustomed to such neglect. His roommate must have misplaced his hearing aid because the TV volume was set to a maximum. Jeb tried to ignore it until the sound of a siren pulled his gaze to the screen as it showed him crash through the door of the burning house and scream, “Cristina!” Two fireman wearing protective gear followed him inside. Smoke poured from the doorway as the wind fanned the flames off the roof. Jeb wondered how he had survived. After several minutes, the firemen exited, carrying him on a stretcher.

He continued staring at the screen even though the action had moved on to the moment being right. Anyone who listened to the news knew that he had called Cristina’s name. The cop knows that I lied. Cristina is out there somewhere. I have to find her if she’s still alive. He removed the oxygen mask and took several deep breaths. The wheezing had cleared. He waited five minutes and found that he felt no worse without the oxygen. His chest still hurt, but he was getting enough air. He sat on the side of the bed and stood. Dizziness swept over him, but it resolved in less than a minute. He pulled the IV out of his arm and held his thumb over the puncture site. The old man stared at him. “What are you doing?” Jeb tossed the needle into the trashcan. “Checking out.” He found his clothes hanging in the closet. They were soiled and damp, and his wallet was no longer in the pants. He dressed and stepped into the hallway. The nurses all sat at the desk doing the paperwork that the government requires. Jeb found the stairway and followed the exit signs. He reached the lobby. Officer Miller stood talking with another police officer beside the entrance. Jeb did not want to resume the question and answer session. He ducked behind a group of doctors, marched past the cops, and escaped through the main entrance.

Angie walked for thirty minutes. She did not want to remain anywhere near Walmart in case the man with the missing wallet recalled bumping into her. Reaching the Streets at Southpoint mall, she entered Banana Republic and left fortified with a new purse, blouse, and skirt. She needed a pistol but settled for a hunting knife from a sporting shop. At an electronics store, she paid cash for a disposable cell phone. She carried it outside to the parking lot and punched in ten numbers. A familiar voice answered. “Who is this?” Angie tightened her grip on the phone. She debated terminating the call, but swallowed her pride and said, “It’s me, Raul. I have to speak with Papà.”

“Is that all you can say after nine years? Don’t you want to talk to your own brother?” She hated it when he called her his sister. He knew it was a lie, and she was glad of that. “People are trying to kill me. I don’t have time for small talk. Put Papà on the line.” “He’s not here.” She doubted that he was telling the truth. “Where can I find him?” “You can’t. Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you myself.” He sounded sincere. She wanted to trust him, but trust has to be earned. “When will Papà be home?” “I don’t know. Let me help you.” Angie clicked the off button.

The fire trucks, the police car, and the crowd that had surrounded the house had dispersed. Jeb ducked under the police tape and approached the ruins. Water from the fire hoses had converted the lawn to a sea of mud. He sloshed through the muck to the sidewalk and followed it to the porch. The building’s walls were still standing, but the windows had all broken out, and the wood looked like charcoal. He walked through the open front door into the remains of his kitchenette. The stench of smoke persisted in the air The Duke sweatshirt remained on the floor, now wet and covered with soot. The flames had destroyed the books and papers that littered the table and floor. Someone had taken the computer—perhaps a looter or the police, but probably whoever started the fire. A beam had fallen from the ceiling. Jeb stepped over it and entered the bedroom. The cop had confirmed that no one was in the house, but he had to see for himself that Cristina’s body was not there. His gaze fixated on the table by the bed. The pistol was not there. Do the police have it? Will ballistics link it to the man that I shot? Will they charge me with murder?

The purse, clothes, and watch that Cristina had brought with her were gone. All evidence that she had been there had disappeared, preserving the lie that she died years ago. That was the way she would have wanted it. Could she have lit the house to preserve her secret? He dismissed that thought and hoped that she had escaped alive, even though he realized that whoever started the fire had probably captured Cristina. He tried not to think about what they had done to her—what they could be doing at that moment. The chest-of-drawers still stood in the corner of the bedroom. The clothes within it reeked of smoke, but at least they were dry. Jeb changed into blue jeans, tshirt, and tennis shoes and retrieved $200 from the sock drawer. Other clothes he threw into a duffle bag. The fatigue from two all-nighters on top of the trauma he had experienced sapped his strength. He wanted to sit in his lounge chair and rest, but the stuffing had burned, and ashes covered it. Besides, the fumes from the wood burned his eyes and made them water. At least that was his best explanation for the tears. He opened the door to the garage. Its roof had collapsed onto his car, breaking windows and camouflaging the bullet holes in the windshield and back window. He had wondered why Officer Miller had not asked about them. He doesn’t know, but that will change when they clean up the mess.

Under other circumstances, Jeb would have gone to Laura’s apartment, but after the drama of the morning, that didn’t seem to be a viable option. Instead, he crossed the campus and presented himself at the duplex that classmate Adam McCall shared with his fiancé, Debra Winchester. She was a Southern girl with straight black hair, brown eyes, and a Georgia accent. She answered the door and stared at his baggy eyes, reddened skin, and bruised face. Her mouth fell open. “God, Jeb. You look like crap.” He felt much worse than he looked. His greatest desire at that moment was to close his eyes and surrender to the fatigue. “It’s part of my new dirt-bag lawyer image. How could any jury not sympathize with someone as pitiful as I?” She caught his sleeve and pulled him into the house. “They’ll think you’re the

defendant.” “Where’s Adam?” “At Target getting goodies for the big event.” Jeb had forgotten that they had invited him to their end-of-exams party. “Am I too early?” “About four hours. What’s in the bag?” He set it on the floor. “I wish it were bourbon, but it’s what’s left of my clothes.” She placed a hand on his chin and examined the bruise beneath his eye. “I saw you on TV. Why did you run into a burning house? You could have been killed. “Lack of sense. Do you think Adam will mind if I stay here tonight?” She handed him a beer from the ice chest on the counter. “It’s my house too. If he complains, I’ll kick him out on the street.” He popped the lid on the bottle and took a deep drink. It tasted good going down to his empty stomach. “Thanks. I’ll try to stay out of the way.” She laughed. “Don’t count on that. We’ve invited thirty people over to celebrate, and they will all want to hear about your adventures.” “It’s pretty boring.” “Not according to Laura. Who was the naked woman?” Jeb wondered what Debra would think if he told her the truth. A part of him longed to do just that. He was tired, confused, and scared and had no idea what his next step should be. Debra was bright and worldly wise and a friend that he trusted. Her advice would be sound, but he already knew what it would be. Tell the police everything. He wasn’t prepared to do that. “Just some girl I met. Can I borrow your shower and bed?” “What? No juicy gossip?”

“Not this time.” “Then you are excused.” She pointed to the bedroom door.

CHAPTER 11

Angie spent the afternoon hiding in the movie theater, watching a rerun of The Godfather. She wondered if she would soon be as dead as Michael Corleone’s Italian wife. She left after sunset and blended into the crowd at Maggiano’s. After a dinner of lasagna and gelato, she returned to the parking lot and made her call. Donato Laudicino answered on the first ring. “Angie?” She took a deep breath, glad to have byed her stepbrother. “Hello, Papà. How did you know it was me?” “Raul said you called. He was worried about you.” “I’m in trouble.” “I know. Are you ready to come home?” “Yes, but I have to bring a friend.” “The law student?” “How do you know about him?” “My men have been keeping an eye on Mister Grant. I thought you would go back to him eventually.” Two men wearing long coats entered the parking area from the mall. Angie crouched behind a suburban. “You’ve watched him for eight years?” “Of course. How else was I going to find you?” “I didn’t want to be found.” “I’m glad you’re changed your mind.”

“I have no choice. Jeb killed Marat last night.” The phone went silent. Angie thought Papà had disconnected, but eventually he answered. “Then it’s going to get ugly.” She knew that was an understatement. It meant war. Marat’s father, Vlad Sokolov, ruled the Russian mob in Miami. He would never rest until he avenged his son. “It already has.” “Where are you?” “Durham.” “What was Marat doing there?” “He tried to kill me—would have if Jeb hadn’t stopped him.” “That seems unlikely. Kidnapping makes more sense. It’s the one way he could force me to cooperate.” “He shot at us with a pistol.” “He was probably aiming at Jeb. Find a place to lay low. I’ll send Alessi on the first flight in the morning.” Angie lifted her head. The men had walked to the end of their row. She moved in the opposite direction.

Jeb awoke to the sound of two people creeping into the bedroom. He bolted upright. The movement made him dizzy, and he stared at them with blurred vision. He recognized two classmates. Loud music flowed from the next room, and the clock announced the time was eight p.m. The party was in full swing. The girl, Judy Waldrop from constitutional law class, jumped backward, knocking her boyfriend Mark against the doorjamb. “Fuck, Jeb. You scared the bejesus out of me.” Mark rubbed the knot forming on his scalp. “What are you doing in here?”

Jeb swung his legs off the side of the bed. “Trying to get some sleep. I could ask the same of you.” Mark’s face reddened. “Just looking for a quiet place to talk.” “Right.” Judy gripped Mark’s arm and retreated back into the living room. Jeb took several deep breaths and waited for the palpitations to resolve. His classmates had inserted themselves into a dream that included killers chasing him through an alley. He felt grateful to still be breathing. Laughter from the next room confirmed his fear that Judy had related his bizarre behavior to the other guests. He found his clothes neatly stacked on a chair. They smelled clean with no trace of smoke. He dressed and stepped into the midst of the revelers. Judy met his gaze and blushed. “Sorry for the intrusion. Didn’t know you were there.” The aroma of chicken wings drew him to a serving dish on the kitchen counter. He bit into one of them. “No problem. I needed to get up anyway.” “What happened to your face?” “I bumped into something during the fire.” The room grew quiet. Adam starred at Jeb as if he had farted in church. Jeb realized that he knew it was a lie. He had seen the bruise that morning during the exam. Debra frowned. “You don’t look so good.” Jeb swallowed. If she only knew. “I’ve been better. Did you wash my clothes?” “It wasn’t Adam.” “Thanks. I didn’t expect the royal treatment.” She touched his forehead and looked at the bruise. “Don’t let it go to your head. You’re going to pay me back by telling what the hell happened to you.” Adam placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him away from the crowd.

“Want to talk about it?” Jeb found himself unable to meet his friend’s gaze. “Not now. Maybe when I get back.” “Get back from where? This party’s just getting started.” Jeb felt like a jerk for shutting Adam out, but at that point, he was afraid to confide in anyone. “I’ve got something I have to do. Can I borrow your car?” Adam sighed, but he reached into his pocket and handed Jeb his keys. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” “Something like that. “Jeb took the keys, walked through the crowd, and left by the side door without looking back.

Jeb was not sure where to go, but he knew that he had to get away from the curious classmates and he had to try to find Cristina. Adam’s Corvette took him downtown. College kids packed Joe’s Bar as usual. Carrie Underwood’s voice flowed from the intercom singing “I Just Can’t Live A Lie.” Jeb pushed his way through the host of students celebrating the end of exams. A girl with blonde hair sat at the back booth. Jeb rushed to her. She looked up at him with startled eyes—brown ones that did not drag him in. He apologized. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.” She looked him over and grinned. “I can be whoever you want.” On another day, he would have slid onto the bench across from her and introduced himself. This was not such a time. He re-entered the crowd and waited outside the lady’s room. Two girls emerged. Neither of them resembled Cristina. He walked to the bar and asked the bartender if he ed the girl who occupied the back booth last night. The man shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you who’s there right now.”

Jeb took a handful of salted peanuts from a bowl on the counter, tossed them into his mouth, and returned to the car. He refused to consider the option that she might be dead. He had lived with that misconception for eight years. In the absence of actually seeing her body and confirming that it was real, he would never again accept that possibility. Having no concept of where to look, he drove from bar to bar, knowing that it was a waste of time but unable to stop searching. He rode to his house and stood in front of the wreckage, hoping that she might return there looking for him. The door was loose on its hinges, which creaked as the wind moved it back and forth. He thought of the fear that he had felt when he had thought Cristina was trapped inside. The fatigue returned. He sat on the steps with his head in his hands and prayed for the first time in years. All he asked was for some sign. He stared at the full moon and watched the clouds drift over the house, moving on toward the university. He studied their shapes but saw only amorphous globs with no meaning for a mere mortal like himself. He walked to the end of the block and returned still with no idea what he should do.

Angie left the Piggly Wiggly with a plastic bag filled with snack food for dinner. She knew that she had to find Jeb. She resisted the urge to return to the ruins of his house. The chance of him being there was miniscule, and the thugs who were hunting her might be watching. She walked down darkened streets for hours until she came upon a two-story home in a residential area. The FOR SALE sign in the yard drew her to the building. A quick look into a window revealed the absence of furniture. It seemed the perfect place to hide until help arrived. She picked the lock and explored the house. Upstairs, it contained three bedrooms, each with a private bath. Downstairs, she found a living room, kitchen, dinning room, bathroom, master bedroom, and study. The entire building smelled of fresh paint. Solid wood doors led to the garage, the front porch, and the backyard. Another one with a heavy latch opened to stairs that led to an unfinished basement that housed an oil furnace. She stopped in the master bedroom, removed her clothes, and stepped into the oversized shower with dual high-pressure heads. The warm water helped her to

relax as soot and dirt disappeared into the drain. She stayed until the water ran cold. Afterward, Angie camped on the floor in the kitchen and used the hunting knife to spread peanut butter onto bread for dinner, which she supplemented with coca cola. She called her father. He sounded relieved to hear her voice. “Are you safe?” he asked. “For the moment.” She told him the address. “Tell Alessi to hurry.”

Sometime after midnight, Jeb parked the Corvette in Adam’s driveway. The cars had all left, but a light burned in the living room. He traversed the sidewalk to the porch and tried the door. It swung open. The door to the master bedroom was closed. He could hear Debra snoring. Empty beer bottles and paper plates with remnants of pizza littered the counter and tabletops. Adam sat in a lounge chair, nursing a bud lite. “Where’ve you been?” Jeb did not want to voice his troubles. “Just driving around.” Adam folded his arms in front of his chest like a father catching his teenage son sneaking into the house after curfew. “Friends don’t lie to each other.” “That’s not a lie.” “You told Judy you got that bruise in the fire.” “Judy’s not a friend. She’s an acquaintance.” Adam pointed to the couch. “Sit.” Jeb grabbed a Michelob from the ice chest and did as instructed. Adam commandeered a kitchen chair and straddled it in front of Jeb’s feet. “Talk to me.”

Jeb reached into his pocket, found a ten-dollar bill, and handed it to his friend. Adam turned it over in his hand. “What’s this supposed to be?” “A retainer.” We haven’t graduated yet.” Jeb lifted the beverage to his lips and took a deep swallow. “Doesn’t matter. It still commits you to attorney-client privilege.” Adam leaned forward, putting his face close to Jeb. “What kind of shit have you gotten into?” “You can’t tell anyone, not even Debra.” “Fine.” “I killed two men last night.” Adam’s beer splashed onto the floor. “What?” “It was self-defense.” “You’re serious.” “Yes—and those men have friends. They set my house on fire.” “Tell me you’re told the police all this.” “I couldn’t. Cristina said they would kill us if I did. Adam leaned back and stared at Jeb as if he had just deduced that his friend had lost his mind. “The Cristina that died eight years ago?” “The same.” “So you plan to use insanity as a defense?” “No. Cristina is alive.” “You need help, Jeb.”

“I just need a place to stay until after graduation. Then I’m out of here.” “Have you heard of Doctor Beatrice Blumberg at Duke Medical Center?” “I don’t need a psychiatrist. Cristina is real.” “Then where is she?” “I don’t know. She was at my house when I left for the exam. Laura saw her.” “The naked girl?” “That’s right.” Jeb started at the beginning. When he finished, Adam summed it all up succinctly. “You’re screwed.”

As expected, Adam told Jeb to go immediately to the police. His advice was sound, but Jeb could not get past the way Cristina had recoiled from that option. He did not know what she had done or why people wanted to kill her, but he felt certain that she would not want him to approach anyone in law enforcement. He lay awake most of the night, second-guessing his decisions. If someone kidnapped Cristina, wouldn’t the police be her best chance to survive? Those men came after her for a reason. What did she do to them? Was she involved in something illegal? What’s going to happen to me? Am I some sort of accessory? Will I be banned from taking the bar exam? I probably flunked civil litigation anyway. I didn’t even answer the last question. I’ll be repeating the course next fall if I’m not in jail or dead. The next morning, Adam drove to the university to check on their grades. Jeb made coffee and sat at the kitchen table, taking small sips while he waited for it to cool. Debra stumbled out of the bedroom, wearing pajamas and a bathrobe. She stared at Jeb. “I hope you feel better than you look.” He shrugged. “I had a bad couple of days.” “What were you and Adam talking about last night?”

Jeb tried to speak the truth without revealing anything. “He was just telling me to get my act together.” “Does this have something to do with the naked girl in your bed?” “Yeah, poor thing. She couldn’t afford to buy any clothes.” “What did Adam think of that?” “He wanted her telephone number.” “You better not give it to him, or next time you run into a door and get laid and burn your house down, you can find somewhere else to bunk.” “I’ll take that under advisement. Now, what’s for breakfast?” “Nothing until you tell me who she is and how you met her.” “She was in a bar, and I’m not sure what her name is.” “You had sex with someone and don’t even know her name?” The accuracy of her accusation bothered him. “Who said anything about sex. I had to study for an exam.” “Liar. I’m going to nag Adam until he tells me what really happened.” “It’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help me find the eggs and bacon.” Adam returned just as Jeb finished his breakfast. Debra kissed Adam on the cheek. “How did we do?” “Not bad. We both got Bs.” Jeb could tell from his friend’s expression that for him the news was not good. “I gather that ‘not bad’ does not apply in my case.” “You made a D. Under the circumstances, that was pretty good.” Debra slapped Jeb on the back of the head. “I hope she was worth it.”

“I have no comment. What about the course grade?” “C-. Looks like you’ll be graduating tomorrow with the rest of us.”

CHAPTER 12

Angie awoke the following morning on the carpet of the deserted house. She prepared another peanut butter sandwich for breakfast and sat against the wall until the sound of a motor vehicle drew her to the front window. A black van with darkened windows parked at the curb. The back door opened, and a man in a blue suit stepped to the sidewalk. He was not Alessi. Angie reached for her purse and then ed that she had no pistol. Two women emerged from the van, and she realized that these people had no affiliation with the thugs who wanted to kill her. They were probably looking to buy the house. Nevertheless, they would call the police if they discovered her. She grabbed the knife, peanut butter, bread, and purse and rushed to the basement. Twenty minutes ed before the basement door opened. The man descended the stairs followed by the ladies. Angie hid behind the furnace. The odor of oil made her wonder if it had a leak. She hoped that no one lit a cigarette. The way her luck was running, the house would blow up. She held her breath while the women stomped around the room and the realtor praised the benefits of the heating system. After less than a minute, she heard shoes ascending the stairs. The lights flipped off, and the door slammed shut. Angie waited in total darkness. She heard footsteps and voices for another twenty minutes, then silence. She waited another half hour and then felt her way up the steps and tried to open the door. The latch held it locked shut. She slammed her body against the door until her shoulder became too sore to continue. She turned on the light and tried to call her father. The cell had no reception. She sat on the bottom step. Hours ed. She thought of Jeb and wondered if he realized that his life depended upon his staying out of sight. Would he go to the police? Would he tell them about the men she and he had killed? With no other suspects, would they arrest him and put out an APB for her? Would Vlad

Sokolov have him murdered in his cell? Then she heard footsteps. She climbed the stairs and listened. The steps moved away from the door. She called out, “Alessi!” Wood splinted from the frame. The door crashed open.

The smell of burning bacon pulled Jeb awake. He threw on his pants and shirt and stumbled to the kitchen table. Debra turned the meat with a spatula. “How do you like your eggs?” “Poached on an English muffin with ham, crabmeat and hollandaise sauce.” She laughed. “Scrambled it is.” Jeb pulled out a chair and sat. “I would have burned down my house a long time ago if I’d known I’d get this kind of service. Adam is a lucky guy.” She cracked two eggs, dropped them in the frying pan, and stirred. “Adam fixes his own breakfast. You’re getting special treatment because the only thing you know how to cook is your apartment. Adam came out of the bedroom and poured himself a bowl of Cheerios. He stared at Jeb’s unshaven face. “You look like shit. Are you going to do what I suggested this morning?” “I was thinking I’d like to borrow your car again.” Debra raised one eyebrow and reached across the table to place a hand on his arm. “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you. Maybe we can help.” Jeb wished he could tell her, but no good could come from advertising that he had killed people. That cop would never believe my story, especially after I lied to him. “I just want to get some air.” “Liar.” “Someday I’ll tell you everything, but today I’m pleading the fifth.”

Adam pushed away from the table. “I already told you what I think.” “Thank you, councilor, but I can’t do that.” “You’re making a big mistake.” Adam reached into his pocket and tossed the keys to Jeb. “Thanks. I’ll be back in an hour.” “You’d better. We don’t want to be late for the ceremony.” Attending his graduation held no allure for Jeb. Facing his classmates and their families was low on his list of priorities. Everyone who saw him would ask about the bruise on his face or the fire, or the naked lady. He was tired of lying, but the certificate represented a turning point in his life.

Jeb rode back to his house, got out of the car, and stood on the front lawn beside the ruin of his house. He felt as if his future was as much a shamble as the teetering building. For years he had worked hard and obeyed all the rules in anticipation of this day when he would finally receive his degree and be able to begin his career. Cristina had negated all that with one phone call. Officer Marcus Miller was not going to go away—not with an unsolved arson and three dead bodies in an alley. He walked back to the car and drove down every street in the neighborhood as if Cristina might be sitting on someone’s front porch. She had given him no clues as to where she might go. She had seemed as lost as he felt now. He wondered if the men who burned down his house had caught her and what they had done to her. He returned in time for his friends to go to the ceremony. Debra insisted that he ride with them. Adam lent him a suit. It was one size too large but better than the blue jeans and tee shirt that he was wearing. They rode together to the auditorium. Adam found a parking place, and the three friends merged with several classmates walking across the courtyard. Jeb looked in every direction. Cristina was not there, but a man stood in a doorway one hundred feet away, watching

the procession of people entering the building. He had dark hair and a bulky frame. His posture reminded Jeb of one of the bruisers who had chased Cristina, but he could not be sure. Jeb marched inside with his classmates and took his seat. He tried to appear inconspicuous, but people kept staring at the bruises on his face. He heard someone whisper about the fire and bizarre behavior. The dean looked straight at him as he reminded the seniors of the high standards of behavior that he expected for them. The graduates walked across the stage, received their diplomas, threw hats into the air, and marched out of the building like robots repeating what every class had done for almost a century.

The graduation reception took place on the lawn outside the hall. Jeb intended to through the crowd and to disappear, but Laura intercepted him. She wore a mint green Versace dress under her black robe and smelled of Parisienne perfume. He braced for an inquisition about the naked woman, but Laura’s parents ed them. Mr. William Tucker, Esquire filled out a Pierre Cardin suit that probably cost more than what most people make in a month. His neatly trimmed salt-andpepper hair and blue-gray eyes that would not look away commanded respect. Laura’s mother Gigi, his second wife, appeared two inches taller and fifteen years younger than her husband. She sported a low-cut Shoshanna dress and a huge diamond on a pendant that pulled one’s gaze to her irable cleavage. Mr. Tucker shook Jeb’s hand, and Gigi gave him a hug that confirmed his impression that Laura had not informed her of his indiscretion. He felt grateful even though the glare Laura cast on him would have rendered a stud horse impotent. Jeb was trying to decide what to say to her when Adam and Debra stepped between them. Adam handed Jeb a beer just as the crack of a rifle shot destroyed the serenity of the gathering. Adam jolted forward. Pain pierced Jeb’s chest. The two friends collapsed to the ground. Debra screamed. Her classmates scattered. Jeb struggled to breathe under the weight of Adam’s body. Laura’s dad rolled Adam off of Jeb. He ripped Jeb’s shirt open and yelled, “Call 911!”

Jeb opened his eyes. His vision blurred, but he could see the blood flowing from the wound over his heart. He gritted his teeth to keep from screaming. His body felt cold, and he could not stop shivering. Debra wailed in his ear. He thought he could hear Laura asking, “Why?” He tried to respond but no words came. He did not know the answer. His mind refused to focus. His eyelids grew heavy. He let them fall shut. Laura spoke with a voice that sounded detached and far away. “He’s dying.”

CHAPTER 13

Raul walked downstairs to his office on the first floor. He liked having his apartment in the same building as the place he worked. It made it convenient to check out the qualifications of his new employees. He browsed through the mail. Nothing but ments. He liked the one that offered a week in Thailand. He had visited Bangkok once, and there was no doubt in his mind that the best whores in the world resided there, even if they had given him the clap. Carmine stuck his head through the doorway. “The boat just came in. Do you want to check out the cargo?” Raul’s cellphone chimed. “I have to take this. Get them cleaned up. I’ll see them later.” Carmine pulled the door shut. Raul punched answer. “Do you have her?” Marat’s voice came through the phone. “No, but Krill took out the boyfriend with his Winchester .30-06.” “I don’t give a shit about him. You aren’t getting paid until you deliver Angie to me.” “I know that.” “Where is she?” “She’s gone to ground. We’ll get her when she surfaces.” Raul could not believe the incompetence of the people he depended upon. He wished he were free to go after her himself. “She’ll go to the wake for Mr. Grant. Have someone there.”

Angie followed Alessi into Denny’s Restaurant. He was a big, swarthy middleaged man with silver hair and alert brown eyes that took in every detail of the room. She was impressed with how little he had changed over the years. His self-confidence and intimidating nature had impressed her when she was a child, and he still exuded power and dominance that made her feel safe but, at the same time, a little overwhelmed. He led her to a secluded booth in the back of the establishment. A waitress with a deep Southern accent brought coffee and took their breakfast orders. Alessi maintained his polite façade until she walked back to the kitchen. He then turned his scowl on Angie. “We shouldn’t be here. I had tickets for a noon flight.” She folded her arms in front of her chest and leaned forward. He could try to coerce her to leave, but in the end, he would do what she wanted. “I’m not going anywhere until we find Jeb.” “We’ve already wasted the whole morning looking. He’s probably already left town. That’s what I would have done.” Angie felt sure that that was the last thing that Jeb would do. “You don’t know him. He’ll be looking for me.” “That’s his problem. My job is to keep you alive.” “They’ll kill him.” “Better him than you.” He picked up the Durham Herald Sun and scanned the local section. She pulled the newspaper out of his hand. “Don’t be a creep. How are we going to find him?” He took a deep breath and pointed to the headline. DUKE LAW SCHOOL GRADUATION TODAY. “If he hasn’t run, he’ll be there.” “Why didn’t I think of that?” A smug expression crossed his face. “I’ll call the university.” He took out his cell

phone and reached information. Moments later he spoke to a receptionist at the Duke Law School istrative building. Angie watched his face sink and his eyes narrow as he asked, “Is he dead?” Angie felt her heart pound in her chest. She gripped his arms. “What did she say?” He hesitated before answering. “A sniper just killed a law student.” Angie took several deep breaths, trying to keep from spewing partially digested pancakes onto the floor. “Jeb?” “She doesn’t know, but it happened at his graduation.” “Oh god.” I got him killed. “What’s done is done. We need to get out of here.” Angie stood. She held to the table until the dizziness cleared. “Call Alfonso. Have him bring the car around.”

Two paramedics carried Jeb into the emergency room. A nurse wearing a paper gown over surgical scrubs cut his suit in shreds, leaving him naked and cold. A technician started an IV in his arm and filled little tubes with his blood. Another nurse connected him to an EKG monitor, inflated a cuff on his other arm, and called out, “BP’s 85/60.” Doctor Schwartz rushed into the room, removed the compression bandage that the medics had applied, and yelled orders to the nurse. “Set up six units of Onegative blood, get a chest X-ray, and find out who’s on call for thoracic surgery.” Jeb pulled at the doctor’s sleeve. “Is it bad?” “You’ve been shot in the chest,” he said as if Jeb did not already know. “If you’d stayed in the hospital like I told you to, this wouldn’t have happened.” Jeb let his head fall back on the stretcher. “I didn’t like the food.”

Someone rolled a bulky machine into the room, slipped an icy metal plate under Jeb’s back, and took an X-ray. Minutes later, a tall man with a stethoscope wrapped over his neck entered the room and introduced himself as Doctor Branson, the chief surgical resident. He listened to Jeb’s chest, poked at his belly, probed the bullet wound with a Q-tip, and said he needed to take Jeb to the operating room immediately. Jeb nodded his agreement and signed the papers that listed every horrible thing that had ever happened to anyone since the Inquisition. The doctor placed a fresh bandage over the wound and hurried from the room. As soon as he left, Officer Miller opened the curtain and walked to the head of Jeb’s cot. “Having another bad day, Mr. Grant?” This time Jeb was glad to see him. Failure to cooperate had almost cost him his life. Someone had to stop those men. Someone had to find Cristina. “You could say that. How is Adam?” “Dead.” He folded his arms and watched Jeb’s expression as Jeb assimilated the cost of the decision not to follow his friend’s advice to the police. “Are you ready to tell me what this is all about?” “Cristina.” “What?” “It’s all about Cristina.” Jeb was prepared to tell him everything, but an anesthesiologist, a nurse, and an orderly stepped into the room. The doctor seemed surprised that the cop was there. “You’ll have to leave now. We’re taking him to the OR.” They pushed the stretcher out of the room past Laura who stood against the wall. Jeb thought she would rush to him, but she just watched as he ed. Her father wore a stoic expression and held an arm around her as if she were the one who had been injured. Her mother looked at Jeb with watery eyes and opened her mouth as if to speak, but remained silent.

Jeb coughed up a wad of black phlegm as he rolled down the hallway. He swallowed and suppressed a second cough. The stretcher wheeled into a large room with lights attached to the ceiling and monitors protruding from the walls. He looked for Dr. Branson, but the surgeon was not there. A woman stood over a bench covered with a green sheet on which sat trays of metal tools. She ignored Jeb as she arranged the instruments in neat rows. Strong hands lifted him onto the surgery table. Its mattress felt cold and hard. A woman with brown skin strapped each of his arms to boards that extended at right angles from the table, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. The anesthesiologist, a short man with oriental features, introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Wong. I’ll be taking care of you while Dr. Branson fixes you up.” “How many of these has he done?” “I don’t know. A few. You’re going to be fine.” His reassurance was not very reassuring. Jeb felt blood running down his chest. The nurse pointed to it. “He’s bleeding.” Dr. Wong pumped up the blood pressure cuff and then yelled to the circulating nurse, “Get Dr. Branson. Now.” Jeb saw the nurse run from the room. “What’s wrong?” Dr. Wong placed a mask over his face, and cold air with a strange smell filled his nostrils. “Everything is fine. I’m going to give you some medicine now. Don’t worry. You won’t a thing.”

CHAPTER 14

Angie ran into the emergency room. Visitors filled all the seats in the waiting area, and several people stood in the corners. She studied each face through her oversized dark glasses. None of the assassins from the alley were there. A man and two women stood in line to speak to the young woman who sat behind a glass screen. Angie adjusted her red wig and rushed to the front. “I’m with Jeb Stuart. Is he here?” ‘You’ll have to wait your turn, mam.” “He was shot in the chest. Can you at least tell me if he’s alive?” The secretary looked up at her computer screen. “He came in by ambulance an hour ago. I’ll have his nurse come out and talk with you.” “Is he alive?” “You’ll have to ask the nurse.” Angie stepped back and almost collided with Alessi. “We have to wait.” He rolled his eyes. “We shouldn’t be here.” She folded her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not leaving until I know he’s all right.” Ten minutes ed. Alessi stood with his gaze fixed on the sliding doors as if he expected a legion of Al-Qaeda terrorists wearing suicide vests to charge into the room. A young man with a crew cut pushed open the interior door. The tag on his white coat read DR. SCHWARTZ. “Is anyone here with Mr. Jeb Stuart?” Angelina stepped forward. “Is he all right?” “Are you a relative?”

She knew he would only talk with kin. The lie came easily. “I’m his sister. Is he alive?” “As far as I know. I work in the ER. He arrived with a gunshot wound to the chest an hour ago. Dr. Branson took him to the operating room.” “How bad was his condition?” “He lost a lot of blood.” “Can I see him?” “They’re still operating. You need to go to the surgical waiting area. Dr. Branson will come out to talk with you when he’s done.”

Angie charged into the surgical waiting room. It was even more crowded than the ER. Half-a-dozen wide-eyed college students sat eavesdropping on a policeman who talked with a prosperous-appearing, middle-aged couple and the striking red-haired woman who had charged unannounced into Jeb’s apartment. Laura lifted her head and stared at Angie. She cocked her head to one side as if trying to decide if she recognized the intruder. Angie felt confident she would not see through her disguise. She feigned boredom, walked to the coffee pot, and filled a Styrofoam cup with industrial-strength caffeine. Laura redirected her attention to the cop. Angie drifted close enough to overhear Mr. Tucker recite the events at the reception. A young woman interjected the opinion that Jeb had been acting strangely and that he had showed up for his examination with a black eye. Laura remained silent, and Angie wondered why she did not volunteer that she had found a strange woman in Jeb’s bed. Angie found a seat and pretended to watch the soapbox on the television. The cop left. Jeb’s friends milled around the coffee pot until a man came through the back door. He wore bloodstained surgical scrubs, and his eyes emanated fatigue. Laura rushed across the room to him. “Is he alive?”

Jeb drifted back into consciousness. He wondered when the surgery would

begin. He listened for the chatter between the anesthesiologist and the nurse, but they were silent. The pain in his chest superseded the urge to vomit, and fatigue negated any inclination to raise his head. He opened his eyes and saw that he was no longer in the operating room. He was in a private hospital room. A dressing covered the left side of his chest. He saw that it was dry. The bleeding had stopped. The surgery is over. I survived it. He found the control button and lifted the head of the bed so he could visualize his surroundings. A plastic bag dangled from a pole, dripping clear liquid into his arm, and a television hung silent on a wall stand. A man with a Mediterranean complexion and thick black hair covered by a bucket hat sat in a chair. He looked at Jeb with indifference. A woman stood against the far wall, staring out the window. She had red hair but a smaller, more compact body than Laura. The scent of Euphoria made him strain to see her more clearly. She turned to face him. He caught his breath. “Cristina?” She crossed the room and placed a hand on his chest, keeping him from sitting up. Her finger covered his lips, signaling him to keep quiet. “Don’t talk, Jeb. I’ve come to get you out of here.” He let his head fall back on the pillow. Why is she here now? What does she want with me? “Why?” She answered with a whisper. “It’s not safe. They want you dead.” “Who?” “Vlad Sokolov.” Nothing she said made any sense. “What kind of name is that?” “Russian. He’s a mob boss in Miami. You killed his son.” Common sense and all his years of legal training told him not to listen to her. “I need to talk to the police.” “Don’t be naïve. They want to arrest you.”

“I can’t leave. I just had surgery.” “You’re going to have to trust me. You won’t last until morning if you stay here.” Without waiting for his response, she ripped the tape that secured the IV to his arm, removed the needle from the vein, and positioned her thumb over the site until the bleeding stopped. Jeb gritted his teeth. “I can’t get out of bed.” “Yes, you can. Doctor Branson says you’re going to be fine. The bullet lost most of its force when it ed through your friend. It lodged in your muscle, but didn’t hit the rib cage. All the surgeon did was to open the wound, stop the bleeding, and remove the bullet.” “So it missed my lung.” “That’s right. You’re going to be sore, and you lost a lot of blood, but that’s all.” “And he said I could go home today?” “No. Of course not, but I’m telling you that we have to leave now.” Jeb did not feel like g out against medical advice, and he hated the idea of hiding from the police. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.” “Later. I promise. Can you sit up?” “I think so.” She placed her hand behind his shoulders and lifted. The change of position brought on a wave of dizziness. He waited for it to before saying, “I’m OK.” Cristina helped him to stand. From her oversized purse, she pulled a black wig and a shirt, blue jeans, hat, and sunglasses that were identical to those of the man in the chair. Jeb knew it was foolish to leave without talking with his doctor, but the drugs had left his mind in a haze. He dressed with a lot of help from Cristina, as the man took his place under the sheets. Cristina led Jeb out of the room. A policeman sat in a chair outside the door. Jeb

felt his heart race. Why is he here? Am I under arrest? The man barely glanced at Cristina and him as they walked up the hallway. Jeb felt drowsy from the anesthesia and leaned on Cristina for as they walked down the staircase to the first floor. He wanted to go back to bed. He wanted the pain to stop. They left through the side door. A dark blue Lincoln Town Car with tented glass pulled to the curb beside Jeb and Cristina. She opened a door and helped him to climb onto the backseat. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain to subside. A fifty-something-year-old, dark-haired, muscular man with a no-nonsense demeanor sat in the driver’s seat. He looked like someone who escaped from the cast of “The Sopranos.” He turned his head toward Cristina and spoke with an Italian accent. “Possiamo ora andare?” “Si. Vada all’aeroporto.” Without acknowledging Jeb’s presence, the man drove around the corner past the front of the hospital. The pain medications had dulled Jeb’s senses, but he was coherent enough to recognize that Cristina was not being forthright with him. He had no idea what she had done to make those thugs want to kill her, and now she was speaking in a foreign language that she knew he did not understand. He had no idea why his house had burned down, why he had been shot, nor why a sniper had murdered his best friend. Laura was furious with him, his pending job was in jeopardy, and the police considered him a person of interest in a string of crimes. This was not the sweet girl who had once shared her dreams with him. She had changed. She was not even speaking a language that he understood. He saw no reason to perpetuate this madness. “Stop the car. I want out.” The Lincoln kept moving in the slow traffic. Cristina looked past Jeb out the window. Her eyes widened. “Get down.” Jeb was tired of her games. He sat up straight and followed her gaze. Waiting on the curb less than five feet away stood the man with the mustache and goatee that he had supposedly killed. A black and purple bruise covered his forehead. One eye had swollen shut beneath a five-inch laceration that someone had pulled together with widely spaced stitches. He stared directly at Jeb’s window. It was too late to duck. Jeb looked straight at him. Their driver seemed unfazed. “Don’t worry. He can’t see you through the glass.”

His reversion to English surprised Jeb. Apparently he switched back and forth depending upon what he wanted Jeb to hear. I wonder if he’s on my side, or am I his prisoner? Jeb turned his gaze back to the man with the damaged face. “Who is he?” “Marat Sokolov.” The driver looked back at Cristina. “I thought you said he was dead.” She shrugged. “Obviously I was wrong. He sure looked dead, didn’t he, Jeb?” Jeb could not believe that the thug had survived the blow that he had delivered with the board. “Is he the man that shot me?” The driver answered. “No. He’s worthless with a rifle. That would have been one of his men, probably Kirill.” Jeb looked through the back window as Marat disappeared through the front doors of the hospital. “He’s going in there to kill me, isn’t he?” Cristina nodded. “That’s why we had to leave when we did.” Jeb settled back in his seat, no longer anxious to get out of the car. “Where are we going?” “Alessi is taking us to the airport. We have reservations on the four o’clock flight to Miami.” Jeb felt grateful for a name to go with the face but wasn’t sure what good could come of going to Florida. “Why Miami? Didn’t you say that mobster was there?” “My father lives in Miami. He can protect us.” “Is he some kind of cop?” “Not exactly.” Her response created more questions than answers, but he realized he had a more pressing problem. “I left my wallet at the hospital. They won’t let me on the plane.”

“That’s all right. Alessi has taken care of everything.” Jeb had no idea what that meant, but fatigue and the drugs he had received took their toll. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Jeb felt the Lincoln come to a stop. Cristina whispered, “Wake up, honey. We’re there.” He opened his eyes and lifted his head from her lap. The effort brought back the pain. He wanted to lie back and enjoy the warmth a little longer, but Cristina dragged him upright. His chest felt like a butcher had fileted it open. He groaned and gripped her arm to keep from collapsing. She reached into her purse and retrieved a bottle of pills and a container of water. She handed them to him. “Take two of those. You’ll feel better.” He stared at the bottle. It had no label. “What are they?” “Just something for the pain.” He was hurting too much to argue. He opened the lid and swallowed two of the pills. “How long before they take effect?” “Half an hour.” Alessi got out and opened the door. He helped Cristina pull Jeb out of the car. He then climbed back into the driver’s seat and drove away. Jeb followed Cristina through the sliding glass doors into Raleigh-Durham International Airport. She led him to the line at the American Airlines desk, opened her purse, and extracted two electronic itineraries. He read the name on hers: MARIA BALDINI. He stared at the woman whom he had once thought he knew better than anyone in the world. “Is that your real name?” “Sometimes.” Jeb was not used to breaking the law. This woman seemed amused by his

bewilderment. What have I gotten myself into? Is Cristina a first-class criminal? What will they do with her when they discover she has a fake I.D.? “Who are you?” She laughed, as if he had just told a joke. “The same girl you used to know—just a little older and a little more adventurous.” She handed him his itinerary and driver’s license. “Check in here. I’ll meet you afterward.” “Where are you going?” “It’s safer if we don’t check in together.” Before he could object, she disappeared into the swarm of travelers. He stared after her with a sinking feeling in his chest. I’ll never see her again.

CHAPTER 15

Angie maneuvered through the crowd of travelers. She wondered if she was doing the right thing. All her options carried consequences—Jeb’s death being the primary risk. If Vlad Sokolov discovers where we’re going, he’ll be waiting for us when we land at Miami International. She exited to the enger pick-up area and stood by the curb. A crowd of teenage boys and girls in shorts and t-shirts dragged suitcases to a bus and hovered around it as the driver opened the baggage compartment. Angie envied their freedom. She had never gone on a school trip. Her bodyguards would never have allowed her to take the risk. The girls giggled and wiggled onto the vehicle. The boys helped the driver load the bags and then, followed the girls on board. The door closed, and the bus pulled away from the curb, drowning Angie in a cloud of exhaust fumes. She stepped back toward the exit and looked into the terminal. Jeb was no longer in sight. I hope he makes it through security. If only there were another way. She shaded her eyes with her hand and looked toward the parking lot. Something’s wrong. Where’s Alessi? He tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around to face him. “Don’t do that.” He took her arm and led her back toward the building. “Is everything all right?” She followed him through the airport lobby. “I think so. He was a little shocked to see my new name, but I believe he can hold it together.” “He’d better. If he screws up, we aren’t sticking around.” “We’re not going anywhere without Jeb.” His eyes hardened. “You’re coming with me no matter what he does. In the big picture, he is just a gnat on a windshield.”

Jeb followed the line of engers as it snaked back and forth like a mountain road until a lady motioned for him to step forward. His head felt as if it were spinning, and he gripped the counter to regain his balance. I should never have left the hospital. I’m not up to this. The woman took the itinerary and driver’s license out of his hand and glanced down at them. “Are you checking any bags, Mr. Jackson?” Jeb felt his mouth fall open. He wanted to run but knew that was not an option. Just staying upright took all his strength. Mr. Jackson? What has she done? I could go to jail. I wasted three years of law school. They’ll never let me take the bar exam. The woman looked up from his papers. “Are you all right, sir?” “I’m fine. No bags.” “You don’t look fine. Are you sure you want to fly today?” Jeb forced his breathing to slow. “I’m just nervous. It’s my first flight.” She frowned but then handed him his itinerary, ticket, and license. “It’ll be over before you know it. Have a nice flight.” Jeb staggered away from the counter and scanned the terminal for Cristina. She was nowhere in sight. He stared down at the license she had given him. It displayed his picture, but the name under it was Thomas Jonathan Jackson, the same name that was on his ticket. Ordinarily he would have laughed at her joke. She had promoted him from one Confederate general, Jeb Stuart, to an even more famous one. He recalled that Stonewall Jackson had been killed by friendly fire at the Battle of Chancellorsville. Is the same thing going to happen to me? Is Cristina or Maria or whatever her name is going to get me killed? He looked at the crowd of people ing through security. She had disappeared. He realized that he did not know her at all. How could I trust someone whom I haven’t seen in eight years, who deceived me and almost got me killed more than once? I don’t even know her name.

He did not want to face the guards in security. If they discovered his license was a fake, his future would be ruined. Possessing it was a crime, and using it to board an airplane after 9/11 was reckless. Just trying to leave Durham County was enough to spark the paranoia of Durham’s finest. Officer Miller would arrest me for sure. He glanced back at the exit but then thought of the anger he had seen on Marat’s face. The pain was less pronounced than it had been, but he felt sleepy, and his thoughts required great effort. What did she give me? I can hardly think. I need to lie down. He proceeded to the security area and handed the guard his fake license and ticket. The man gave them both a cursory glance and motioned Jeb toward the conveyer belt. Jeb ed through the metal detector without incident and headed toward his gate. He rested for several minutes and then walked down the concourse, looking in the shops and restaurants for Cristina until he saw her walking toward him with their driver. He stumbled toward her. “I thought you had disappeared again.” She gave him a hug. “You won’t get rid of me so easily this time.” “What was in the pills? I feel like I’m going to out.” “Just oxycodone.” “Is that legal?” “Are you hurting anymore?” “No.” “Then don’t worry about it.” She led him into a restaurant and ordered a pizza with everything for the three of them. Jeb wanted to ask her to explain what was happening, but his thoughts grew disted, and Alessi’s presence discouraged him. The food arrived after fifteen minutes. The aroma made his mouth water. He ate in silence, glad that the nausea had dissipated. After the pizza had shrunk to a few scraps of crust, he lifted his head and glanced into the concourse just in time to see Marat march by the doorway. The ugly laceration on his forehead

eliminated any doubts as to his identity. He peered straight ahead as he walked toward their gate. Alessi and Cristina followed Jeb’s gaze in time to see the man disappear from view. Cristina stood. “Change of plans.” Alessi pulled her back into her seat. “Wait.” A moment later a man with short hair and a tattoo of a goat on his neck rushed past the restaurant. Alessi nodded toward him. “That’s Kirill.” He stood. “We can go now.” Jeb stared at the thug who had killed his best friend and almost ended his own life. He wanted to confront him—to bring the madness to an end once and for all, but the man was not alone. A confrontation could bring collateral damage. He could never live with himself if that included Cristina. Alessi led Jeb and Cristina to the sidewalk outside baggage claim. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.” Jeb watched him disappear into the parking lot. “Where’s he going?” Cristina grasped his arm to keep him upright. “To get the car.” “He stole it, didn’t he?” She smiled. “You worry too much, Jeb.” “Can’t we just get a cab? I’ll pay for it.” She laughed. “You don’t have any money, and besides, we can’t leave a trail. No one can know where we’re going.”

Alessi returned with a Cadillac CTS-V. Jeb did not ask where or how he got it. He climbed into the back seat with Cristina. They sped away from the terminal and headed south. Cristina rested her head against the car door and looked as if she could fall

asleep. Jeb, on the other hand, yearned to break through the half-truths and omissions. “Are you ready to tell me where you’ve been all these years?” She sat up straight, fastened her seat belt, and then twisted her shoulders to face him. “New Orleans.” He wondered why she hesitated to answer such a basic question. “I thought you lived in Atlanta.” Her face reddened, and she turned her gaze to the pines and oak trees that dotted the landscape. “I’m not the girl you thought you knew at Chapel Hill. She was a fabrication. I lied to you. Everything was a fairy tale. I’ve never even been to Atlanta, except to through the airport.” “Who’s in your grave?” “Nobody. It’s just a headstone. With a little money you can do anything.” “I thought you were broke.” “My father owns one of the biggest shipping businesses in Florida.” She rested her head back on the door and closed her eyes as if there were nothing else to say—as if she expected him to accept her duplicity as some unfortunate misunderstanding. She seemed unaware of the havoc that her deceit had produced. Cristina had been everything to him, and when she disappeared, something inside his soul had shut down. He had wanted to die and had almost made it happen more than once in Afghanistan. Her return, in a way, was even worse because he realized that his Cristina had never really existed. She was an illusion, a product of her deception and of his dreams. She had manipulated him, and he had played the fool. He grabbed her collar and jerked her upright. “Who are you?” Alessi slammed the brakes so hard that Jeb fell off his seat, striking his chest incision. He gasped in pain, crawled off the floor, and stared into the barrel of a forty-five. Alessi pulled back the hammer. Cristina placed her palm over the end of the barrel. “Put away the gun, Alessi.” He narrowed his eyes. “But he grabbed you.”

“It’s OK. Jeb can touch me if he wants.” Alessi frowned, uncocked the weapon, and shifted back into drive. Cristina looked at the red stain forming on Jeb’s dressing. “You’re bleeding.” Jeb considered that the least of his problems. “It’ll stop. Don’t change the subject.” She sat back in her seat. “Maybe I should start at the beginning.” Jeb leaned back against his headrest, waiting for the pain to subside. “That’s a novel idea.” “My brother and I were born in New York.” “I thought you were an only child.” “I told you several things that weren’t exactly technically correct. Papà moved us to Miami after our mother died when I was twelve. He remarried when I was sixteen. Matilde barely tolerated Lenny and me. That’s why Lenny moved back to New York and I ran off to Carolina. I didn’t tell anyone where I was. I never wanted to go home. Then I met you and thought I could really start over again.” “So why all the lies. Didn’t you trust me?” “I planned to tell you everything. Then Lenny flew in from New York. He said that the Russian mob had murdered Matilda and that they would come after me. I had to hide. He drove me to New Orleans and helped me to start over there.” “I don’t understand. Why would Russians be after you?” “They wanted Papà to use his ships to smuggle cocaine from Mexico. Papà refused.” “Why didn’t he go to the police?” “He couldn’t prove anything, and Sokolov has several judges in his pocket.” “So now he is after both of us.” “I’m afraid so.”

“I don’t understand why you came back. Did you think we could just start over?” “You’re mad. Please don’t be mad.” “How about disgusted. I liked you a lot more when you were dead.” She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry. I deserve that.” “Tell your friend to stop the car. I want out.” She grabbed his arm and tried to force him to understand. “They’ll kill you.” Jeb pulled away. Her touch brought back too many memories. “I’ll take my chances.” Her eyes glistened with tears. She reached over the seat and tapped Alessi on the shoulder. “Pull over.” He maintained his speed. “That’s not going to happen. I take orders from your father, not you.” “But you didn’t want to take Jeb in the first place.” “You should have listened to me. Now he’s a liability. He’ll tell them where we are.” Jeb knew that escape was not possible. Just sitting upright took all of his strength. There was no way that he could overcome a man as tough as Alessi, especially when that man had a pistol and was not afraid to use it. He leaned against his door and fell asleep. When he awoke, the car had stopped, and his head was resting in Cristina’s lap again. “Where are we?” Cristina brushed his hair off his face. “Fayetteville. Go back to sleep, honey. We’re just getting some gas.” He didn’t have the strength to object. He closed his eyes, but Alessi had other ideas. “You pump the gas, Princess. I’ll keep an eye on your friend.” Cristina got out of the car and shut the door. Jeb sat up. Alessi lifted his pistol so

Jeb could see it. “Don’t get any crazy ideas.” “What are you? Some kind of bodyguard?” “That’s not your concern.” “I have to go to the bathroom.” “Forget it.”

Cristina filled the tank and than disappeared into the store. She returned in a few minutes with a Jacob Black T-shirt to replace the bloodstained one that Jeb was wearing. “Sorry,” she said. “It was this or Edward Cullen.” Jeb had been to few movies in recent years, but he had seen Twilight and knew which of the characters was the vampire. He removed the soiled shirt, displaying his pale skin. “I look more like Edward.” Cristina shrugged. “Tough. I’d rather be in the backseat with Jacob.” Jeb slipped the clean garment over his head. “Better?” “Much.” She pulled the tag off the sleeve. “We need to keep driving. Are you up to it.” “Do I have a choice?” Alessi answered for her. “No.” He cranked the engine and drove back to the highway.

Angie leaned back on her seat and stretched. She wished the drive would end. For some inexplicable reason, she looked forward to seeing her father. He had his faults, but he genuinely cared for her, and his home would provide the security that she craved. Jeb rested his head in her lap. Soon he fell asleep. She closed her eyes and leaned against the door. Somewhere south of Lumberton, Alessi pulled off I-95 onto a narrow country

road. Angie stared at the tall oak trees with gray moss hanging from their limbs that made a canopy across the asphalt. “Where are you going?” Alessi gave her one of his abbreviated answers. “Shortcut.” That seemed illogical, but she had never made the drive through North Carolina. He seemed annoyed by her questions so she closed her eyes again. He had not seemed that touchy before, but he was not used to having a woman tell him what to do. The car made a left turn and bounced over a rough surface. Angie looked out the window and saw she was on a dirt path disappearing into the woods. She was unable to refrain from speaking. “What are you doing?” Alessi pulled the Cadillac into a grove of pine trees and stopped. “My job.” He stepped out of the car and opened Jeb’s door. “Get out.” Jeb lifted his head and stared at him as if he had lost his mind. “What for?” Alessi gripped his wrist and pulled him upright. Jeb winced but to his credit said nothing. He climbed to the ground. Alessi waved to Angie. “I’ll be back in a minute. Stay here and watch the car.” He slammed the door shut and walked with Jeb across a bed of pine straw. She watched Jeb stumble. He grimaced as he pulled himself upright, but he appeared more calm than she felt as he followed Alessi behind a clump of cedars. The car felt as if there was no oxygen. Angie took deep breaths and stared out the window. What is wrong with Alessi? Why is he acting so strange? He won’t hurt Jeb, will he? Why did he say, I’ll be back instead of we’ll be back? Angie leapt across the seat and threw open the door. She slipped on the slick straw and landed in a heap on the ground. She jumped to her feet and ran through the space between the trees where Jeb had disappeared.

CHAPTER 16

Raul followed Carmine down a hallway to a steel door. Carmine unfastened both locks and stepped into a huge room in the back of the warehouse. It had no windows. Bald light bulbs added heat to the already hot space but provided the only light. Twelve people in ragged clothes sat on army cots. Raul counted seven men and five females. They all stood when he entered the room. He walked up to each of the occupants, looked them in the eye, felt their skin, and moved on to the next one. When he reached the last person, he said, “The men all look healthy. Send them to that fern farm near Stark.” “What about the ladies?” He nodded at the two at the far end of the room. “That one’s too old, and the one beside her is too ugly. Send them with the men.” “And the others?” He stared at the remaining girls. It seemed the quality of females coming from Mexico was going down with each shipment. One of them was pushing thirty and already starting to sag. The second one appeared twenty pounds overweight, but she looked at him with a cocky expression that made him want to bang her. The last girl was young—perhaps thirteen with perky breasts that had not yet filled out. She stared at the floor, avoiding his gaze. He walked over to her. “What’s your name, kid?” She kept watching her shoes as if someone might steal them. “No hablo Inglés.” Raul’s cellphone chimed. His pulse picked up when he saw it was Marat. CNN had announced that the student killed at Duke was some guy from New England. Jeb Grant was from North Carolina. “I wondered when you were going to call and explain how Mr. Grant is alive.” “He’s not.” “The TV says you’re lying.”

“Then you need to change the channel. Mr. Grant just died in an airplane crash.” “What?” “You heard me. We slipped a bomb on board.” Raul caught his breath. “Where’s Angie?” “In hell with her boyfriend.” “You killed her?” “She got what she deserved.” “That wasn’t part of the deal. You were supposed to deliver her to me alive.” “Sorry, but when they killed my brother, it got personal. You can keep your $100,000.” “Fuck you.” He disconnected and glared at Carmine. “That bastard.” “What happened?” “Nothing.” He pointed to the two women. Put them with the other whores.” “The chubby one is married to the man in the red shirt.” “Tell him she ran away—went back to Mexico.” “He won’t like that.” “If he causes trouble, make him disappear.” “Yes, sir.” “And bring No hablo to my apartment.” He stormed out of the room.

Angie stumbled into a small clearing where the ground turned to red clay. The two men stood with their backs to her. Alessi looked over his shoulder and laughed. “Can’t a man take a piss in privacy anymore?” Angie felt like a fool, but she had never been so relieved in her life. Alessi had regained his sense of humor, and Jeb was still alive. “Sorry.” A cardinal perched on a sycamore limb, watching the proceedings. Angie wished she could be as carefree as he appeared. She wanted to return to her college years with Jeb when no one knew who she was and she could be whomever she wanted. She waited on the other side of the foliage and scolded Alessi when he reappeared. “That wasn’t funny.” He laughed again. “Just trying to wake you two up. It got too quiet in the back seat.” Jeb took her hand, and they walked back to the car. He seemed less angry and more attuned to their plight. He settled onto the back seat and asked how Marat had discovered where she was. She told him about Lenny and the e-mails. “One of them told me to run—to find you.” “So that’s why you came to Durham?” “No. I would never have involved you, but I was staying with a friend. They murdered her and found Lenny’s e-mail. I knew they would come here to make you tell where I was.” “That’s a joke. You hadn’t even sent a note to say you were alive.” “They didn’t know that. You would have ended up like Naomi.” “She was the roommate?” “Yes, and my best friend.”

“I’m sorry.” “You pay a price for getting close to me.” “I’m well aware of that, and I thought I was your best friend.” “That was a long time ago.” “You should never have lied to me.” “I’m sorry.” She rested her head back on door and pretended to fall asleep.

The Cadillac crossed into Florida and continued south. Jeb awoke when Cristina opened his door. He rubbed his eyes. “Where are we?” “Ormond Beach. Alessi needs a break.” “I hope that means food.” Cristina took his hand and helped him out of the car. He felt like he had placed second in a fifteen-round boxing match. She draped his arm over her shoulder and led him into The Speedway Diner. Alessi followed. The establishment bustled with truckers and tourists. The smell of hamburgers on the grill made Jeb’s mouth water. Cristina selected the only unoccupied booth by the window. Jeb leaned back against the leather seat and tried to get comfortable. “How much further?” She handed him two more tablets. “We should be in Miami by dawn. You can sleep the rest of the way.” A young woman with a Harley Davidson tattoo took their orders, which consisted of three coffees, pancakes for Alessi, and eggs, bacon, and grits for Jeb. Cristina was not hungry. Jeb wondered what Alessi would do if he refused to return to the car. He decided that he did not want to find out. He was in no shape for a fight, and he did not want to create a scene that would cause the waitress to call the police. Cristina

might escape before they arrived, but the news would telegraph her location to the men who were chasing her. He did not want her to die. He watched her sip her coffee and thought of the dreams he had assumed they shared. It was all a sham. How could I have been so naïve? Their waitress left the television blaring over the counter while her customers boosted their caffeine levels and waited for the food to cook. When the late night news replaced her program, she ambled to the table with their breakfast. Cristina jerked her head toward the set. Her mouth fell open. “Oh my god.” Jeb followed her gaze to the TV screen. An airplane wreckage spewed smoke in the background. He did not need to listen to the grim-faced announcer to know what flight had crashed. It was imprinted across Cristina’s face. He squeezed her hand. “It’s not your fault.” She placed a finger over her lips and focused on the report. The jet from Raleigh-Durham to Miami had exploded soon after take off. The only survivors were two men and a woman who checked in at the counter but failed to board the plane. Jeb recalled how dopey he had acted and hoped the woman who gave him his ticket would not what he looked like. At least they don’t have our real names. I wonder how long it will take them to realize that Thomas Jackson died a century and a half ago. Jeb kept staring at the screen long after the programing had reverted to ads. The police think we caused the crash. We’ll have to hide for the rest of our lives. He thought of the men he had seen at the airport. They won’t stop until we’re dead. What has Cristina not told me? Why are they so determined to kill her? Why would they kill so many people just to get her? Alessi dropped a fifty onto the table and pushed back his chair. “We have to go.” Jeb and Cristina followed him behind the building where he collected their fake driver’s licenses and put them with his own. “We can’t afford to get caught with these.” He took out his cigarette lighter, burned them beyond recognition, and tossed the remnants into a trashcan. They walked in silence back to the car.

Jeb leaned forward in his seat, all thoughts of escape from Alessi erased from his mind. “What do we do now?” She shrugged. “We keep driving to Miami.” “Where that Russian guy lives?” She grasped his hand and pulled it to her lap. “Yes, but Papà can protect us there.” He pulled his hand free. “I thought he ran a shipping business.” “He does, but he has lots of bodyguards and influence. Nobody will mess with us.” “What about your step-mother? Someone messed with her.” “That was eight years ago. Besides we don’t have many other options.” “We could go to the police. They need to know who murdered that planeload of people.” “We have no proof, and their prime suspects are going to be the three people with fake IDs who checked in and failed to board.” Jeb folded his arms in front of his chest. “We can’t just do nothing.” Alessi rolled his eyes. “Do you want to go to prison?” “No, but—” “Then shut up. We’re going to Miami.” He cranked the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

Jeb was too uncomfortable and too anxious to sleep for the rest of the drive. Until Cristina had returned, driving seventy miles per hour in a fifty-five speed zone had been his only crime. Now, traveling in a stolen car was the least of his problems. He had killed a man and run. The police suspected him for arson, and when homeland security discovered who had fled the airport, he would be the

prime suspect in a terrorist attack that killed over a hundred people. I’m going to prison if Marat doesn’t find me first. Fear of death superseded his earlier concerns regarding being disbarred before he even took the bar exam. His only viable chance for survival rested with Cristina and Alessi, and they were taking him to the source of the danger. The Cadillac hit a bump, and Jeb suppressed a groan. He coveted the pills in his pocket but left them there. He could not afford to be any more disabled than he already was. What if the cops stop the car? What if Marat finds us? The three fugitives arrived in Miami at dawn. Alessi drove on empty streets beside the Intracoastal Waterway. He parked near the water, opened the back door for Cristina, and led his two charges to the end of a wooden dock where a Boston Whaler bobbed against the pilings. A middle-aged man sat by the motor. He waved for them to come aboard. Cristina smiled and said “Buongiorno, Guido.” The man held out his hand, and helped her into the motorboat. “Welcome home, Angelina.” Jeb stared down from the dock at the woman to whom he had shared all his secrets and wondered who she really was. How many layers of lies would he have to peel off to get to her core? “Angelina?” She shrugged. “Now you know everything.” He wanted to turn around and walk out of her life, but something in him demanded that he make a final effort to learn the truth. Alessi cemented his decision when he put a hand on Jeb’s shoulder and said, “Get on the boat.”

Jeb sat near the bow with Angie as the craft skimmed across the bay, slicing through waves and splashing water across the deck. He tasted the salt in the air. Angie held to the metal railing and looked toward the horizon with a tranquil face and red hair blowing in the wind. He forced his thoughts away from how pretty she looked to the myriad of ways she had deceived him. She met his gaze and frowned. “You’re mad.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? You don’t trust me. I don’t even know your real name.” She placed her hand on his arm. “It’s Angelina Laudicino. You can call me Angie.” “Why am I just learning this now?” “You should know that better than anyone. People are trying to kill me.” “I’m not.” “I know. You were a mistake. I should never have let you get close. Now they’re after you too. He stared across the broad expanse of water. “I thought we were going to your father’s house.” “We are. This is Biscayne Bay. Papà lives on his island. We’ll be safe there.” Jeb ed her mentioning his shipping business and thought that it must be successful if he could afford to own an island. “What else have you neglected to tell me? She kissed his cheek. “You’re up to speed.” He knew that was not true. It seemed like he was seeing her life through frosted glass goggles. “Why don’t I feel like it?” “Ask me anything?” “What happened to your mother in New York?” “I told you. She died when I was twelve.” She turned her face away from Jeb, but not before he saw the moisture filling her eyes. He pressed forward anyway. “I know. How?” “Someone shot her in the back of the head.”

CHAPTER 17

Angelina pushed away the image of her mother lying dead on the kitchen floor. It seemed as real now as it had those many years ago. The bullet had taken out a portion of her face, and blood covered her blouse and blue jeans. Angie had screamed and run to her parents’ bedroom. Her father kept a pistol in the top drawer of the dresser. She cradled it in her hand and hid behind the bed until Lenny came home from football practice. He put the weapon back in the drawer and called their father. Papà arrived within minutes of the police. It was the only time she ever saw him cry. He made her retreat to her room with Lenny while he talked with the cops. When he let her come back out, Mama’s body was gone, and the blood had been cleaned up. They moved to Miami the following week to the island that she could now see in the distance. The house seemed unchanged after nine years. She approached it with mixed feelings. It had been a good home until Papà remarried after she turned sixteen. The atmosphere grew oppressive the last year after Lenny graduated and left for New York. Two dolphins broke the water less than ten feet away, and a flock of laughing gulls glided overhead. Angie relaxed and took in the beauty until her thoughts migrated back to the island. What will I say to Papà? What will he tell Jeb? She glanced at her companion who was watching her from the corner of his eye. He seemed unsettled, as if he were about to face a terrible ordeal. She wished their lives could have taken a different course. This cannot end well. I should never have brought him here.

Jeb saw the same dolphins and the same gulls and thought the scene was a mirage that clashed with reality. He was a fugitive from the police, a target for a gang of mobsters, and a prisoner of a stranger whom he had once thought he knew better than anyone. The structure that the boat approached did nothing to

alter that perception of an alternate reality. The word stunning would not do justice to the ranch-style home that protruded above the water. It took up the entire island, giving it the appearance of a ship with the walls plunging into the bay except for the bow and stern where there were spacious decks that extended over the water. To Jeb it seemed to be an opulent fortress surrounded by an endless moat. The property alone would have cost more than most people made in several lifetimes. Guido pulled the boat beside the deck and tossed a rope to a tall man with a bulky build, deep-set, dark eyes, and a full head of white hair. In spite of the early morning heat, the man wore a long-sleeved shirt, long pants, and lace-up shoes. He secured the rope to a wooden post and held out a hand. Angie jumped onto the polished eucalyptus planks and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hello, Papà. He kissed the top of her head. “Welcome home, Angie.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him back. “I missed you.” He held her at arms length, staring as if to be sure she was really his daughter. “Apparently not too much. It’s been nine years.” She released him and said, “You know why.” Jeb wondered what she meant. Angie had told him he was up to speed, but he still felt like Alice in the rabbit hole. Her father ignored her taunt and looked at Jeb. “Is this the young man you told me about?” She stepped back and slipped her hand under Jeb’s arm. “Yes. Jeb, this is my father, Mr. Donato Laudicino.” Donato gripped both of Jeb’s shoulders and studied his wig, which was slightly askew. “I’m glad to finally meet you. Thanks for keeping my Angie alive and for bringing her home.” Jeb wanted to remind him that he was there against his will, but somehow that

did not seem wise. “Coming home was her idea.” “I know, but she never would have come without you.” A young woman wearing a sailor’s outfit with a short skirt stepped out of the house. She handed Jeb a Jack Daniels over ice and Angie, a Daiquiri.” Jeb was not in the habit of beginning his morning with alcohol, but he was so surprised that Donato knew his customary drink that he accepted it without question. He wondered whether he had learned it from Angie, or did he have other sources? He struck Jeb as a person who left nothing to chance. A man stood alone in the shade of the awning thirty feet away. He stared out to sea, but it was obvious that he was watching everything that transpired. Jeb saw the bulge under his windbreaker and suspected it was a gun. Donato lifted his half-empty glass. “To new beginnings.” Jeb wondered what his toast meant. What plans could he have for me? Did Angie fail to tell me something else?

Angie watched Jeb swallow his bourbon in two gulps. He must think we are a strange family, she thought. I hope he doesn’t bolt when he discovers who we really are. She finished her drink. The girl handed her a refill and sauntered into the kitchen. Papà gave a slight nod of his head. Alessi and Guido followed her and closed the door. His smile faded, and Angie realized that something had gone wrong. He looked at her. “Please sit down.” She sat with Jeb on cushioned wooden chairs beside a round eucalyptus table. Jeb appeared puzzled by his change of tone. Papà pulled a chair in front of Angie, sat, and held her hand. Her heart raced. She knew her father well. Whatever he was about to say was going to hurt. Tears crept down his cheek, and she choked back a sob. Papà only cries when

somebody he loves dies. “It’s Lenny, isn’t it?” “He’s dead.” The glass slipped from Angie’s hand, shattering on the floor. “No.” She ran to the railing and vomited into the bay. Jeb caught her arm, and Papà ed her shoulders. Several minutes ed before she lifted her head. “How did it happen?” Papà shifted his gaze to the floor. “They slit his throat. He bled to death in his apartment.” “When?” His shoulders slumped, and Angie noticed how much he had aged since she last saw him. Deep lines marked his face, and his eyelids drooped with loose skin. “Raul went to check on him right after you called. It was too late. He was already dead.” She felt her body begin to sway and held to Jeb to keep from falling. I should have gone to New York—made him hide with me. What was I thinking? It was me they wanted. Lenny is dead because of me. Jeb helped her to her chair. When her equilibrium returned, she said, “Where is Raul now?” As if on cue, the sliding glass doors from the house opened, and Angie’s stepbrother walked onto the deck, wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and white shorts. He was taller and more muscular than she ed. His thick black hair had thinned. Years of exposure to the sun reinforced his dark complexion. He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s good to see you, Sis.” Angie stiffened. “Hello, Raul.” Papà placed a hand on Jeb’s shoulder. “Jeb, this is Angie’s brother.” Raul shook Jeb’s hand. “So you are Angie’s latest conquest?” Jeb looked at him as if he did not understand the question. “Something like that.”

Angie wished Raul had stayed in the house. She did not want him to talk to Jeb. “How did they find Lenny?” Raul poured himself a scotch. “I have no idea. We don’t even know who did it.” “It was Marat.” He rolled his eyes. “You can’t be sure.” “He tried to kill me—would have if Jeb hadn’t stopped him.” Raul looked at Jeb and laughed. “I find that hard to believe.” Angie pushed back her chair and stood. “I don’t care what you think. Jeb and I are tired. I’m going to bed.” “Not with him, you’re not.” “That’s none of your business.” “The hell if that’s true.” Angie’s father slammed his glass on the table. “Enough. Both of you. Your brother just died. Show some respect.” Angie took Jeb’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, Jeb. You look like week-old pasta.”

CHAPTER 18

Angie led Jeb down a long hallway, stopping at the third door. “You can stay in here. I’ll be in the next room.” Her lips trembled, and her face remained pale. Jeb touched her cheek. In spite of the tropical heat, it felt cold. “Are you all right?” She lowered her head and avoided his gaze. “No, but I’ll be better after I get some sleep.” He hated the idea of leaving her alone but did not know what to say. “I’m sorry about Lenny.” “Yeah, me too.” He wanted to know more about Raul. He had felt the tension in the room. It seemed that the more he learned about Angie, the more convoluted her story grew. “I thought he was your only brother.” “Raul is not my brother. He was Matilde’s son.” Jeb heard anger in her voice and wanted to ask why, but she walked to the adjacent door and disappeared. He entered the room she had selected for him. It was large with a bay window that overlooked the water. Green curtains with a tropical motif of coconut trees and bright flowers projected a cheerful atmosphere. He wondered if Angie had been happy here. That seemed unlikely. There was something wrong with Raul. Jeb did not like the idea of Angie sleeping under the same roof with him. A king bed dominated the room. It was a welcome site. Jeb wandered into the private bathroom. A shower would have felt good, but he didn’t want to get his dressing wet. He retrieved the bottle from his pocket, and swallowed two pills. Returning to the bedroom, he kicked off his clothes, removed the gaudy wig that was making his head itch, and climbed onto the bed. Fatigue should have

dragged him into a deep sleep, but his mind would not cooperate. It dwelled on the violence that surrounded this woman whose name today was Angelina. Her mother, her stepmother, her brother, and her best friend had all suffered brutal murders, and someone was trying to do the same to her. Her father seemed like a kind man, but Raul was scary. No wonder she left home. I wish she had confided in me. Maybe things could have been different. He wanted to call Laura. He knew that she was angry and confused, but speaking with her would only compound the problem. She would never understand the things he had done, and she did not deserve to be pulled into this quagmire. Soon the police would question her, if they had not already done so. If she knew nothing, she would not have to commit perjury, or worse, tell them things that would send him to prison. He knew he should call her father and let him know all that had transpired. His firm could provide the best defense possible for whatever charges Officer Marcus Miller decided to bring. If I’m going to work for him, he deserves to know the truth. That possibility of ever practicing law, however, seemed remote. I’ll never get out of this mess. I’ll be lucky to survive a week. The oxycodone reached his brain, and the significance of his problems dwindled. He drifted into a deep sleep.

Angie sat on her queen bed and looked around her room. It seemed odd that her father had changed nothing since she left, as if he knew that eventually she would return home. The walls remained light blue to match the canopy over the bed, and the walnut bookcase still held her high school textbooks and the complete Nancy Drew series of novels. Even her books written in Spanish and Italian remained on the shelves alongside her Barbie Doll dressed as a Musketeer. An iron bust of a dolphin, the symbol of her favorite professional football team, sat on her walnut dresser. A walnut chair stood in front of her walnut desk on which lay a letter to her Aunt Dafne that she had started and never completed nine years ago. A single large window offered a magnificent view of the waterway. She pulled herself onto the side of the bed and gazed through the glass at the mainland

faraway. It’s so beautiful here. Why didn’t Papà retire? He didn’t need any more money. Lenny and I would never have left. He would still be alive, and nobody would be trying to kill Jeb and me. She wondered why the Russians had killed Lenny. How did they find him? Why did they come after me? Are Jeb and I really safe here now? She thought of the reunion with Raul. It had not gone well. She had hoped that the age of years would mellow his hostility, but it still simmered barely below the surface. He’s still the same snake that he always was. I should never have come home. What will he tell Jeb about me?

Jeb awoke at noon. The house was quiet. He pressed his ear to the wall but heard no activity in Angie’s room. He walked into the bathroom, popped another pill, and dressed in the same clothes he had removed several hours earlier. He walked out onto the deck. Raul sat at the round table, drinking a beer. He pointed to a cooler. “Help yourself.” Jeb did not want any more alcohol but sensed that refusal would break some social taboo. He flipped the lid off a Coors and took a chair across from Raul. A different pretty girl wearing shorts and a tank top asked if she could do anything for him. Raul patted her buttocks and said that they both wanted sea bass for lunch. She giggled and headed toward the kitchen. “I’m sorry about your brother,” Jeb said. Raul sipped his beer and directed his gaze over the water. “Don’t be. He spurned us a long time ago. I hadn’t seen him for years. “Why did he do that?” “Donato wanted to groom him to take over the business, but Lenny didn’t have the ‘cojones.’” “Exactly what is the family business?” Raul raised one eyebrow. “Angie never told you?”

“Not really.” He laughed. “Bet she didn’t tell you about lots of things.” “There’re some gaps.” “Big ones, I’ll bet. Did she tell you about all the boys she fucked in high school?” “No.” “I guess she wouldn’t. Probably told you she was a virgin.” “The subject never came up.” “I’m sure it didn’t. She even came on to me.” Jeb pushed back from the table and stood. “I think I just lost my appetite.” Raul shrugged and took another swig of beer as Jeb walked back into the house.

Jeb slept until four p.m. when a knock on the door awakened him. He found Angie standing in the hall. She wore white shorts and a Carolina blue T-shirt with UNC on the front and a ram with tar on its heel on the back. The wig was gone, and her natural brown hair hung down to her shoulders. She appeared revitalized after only a few hours of sleep. “Come on in,” he said. She shook her head and motioned with her finger for him to follow her to the deck. He did as ordered and felt relieved to find they had the space to themselves. “Where’s Raul.” She glanced across the waterway toward the marina. “I don’t know. He left on the boat this afternoon with Papà.” Jeb ed her at the railing and followed her gaze. There were no boats nearby —just pelicans flying close to the water. “He doesn’t seem too happy to have his little stepsister home.”

“He’s not.” “He called you a slut.” Her face reddened, and for a moment, Jeb thought he had gone too far. She took several deep breaths before speaking. “Lenny caught him trying to feel me up when I was sixteen—knocked him unconscious with a baseball bat. He never touched me after that, but he has not been warm and fuzzy. He’s the reason I stayed away from home until today.” Jeb had wanted to sock Raul when he made his sour remarks. Now he wished that he had. He’s not just crude. He’s a pervert. “How can you stand being around him?” “I hoped he would have changed.” The girl with the tank top left an array of cheese biscuits and sand tarts on a tray. Angie retrieved it from the bar, carried it to the table, and sat adjacent to Jeb. He could tell that she wanted to move the conversation in a more neutral direction, but his patience with all the secrecy had reached its limit. “Raul insinuated that there were things about your father’s business that you had neglected to tell me.” She frowned, looked back over the water, and took her time answering. “Papà helps people from Mexico and Central America move to this country.” The way she hesitated convinced Jeb that she was still holding back. “You mean illegal immigrants?” “Yes. He smuggles them here in secret compartments in his boats.” “Does Raul help him with this?” “Not really. Raul specializes in gambling and prostitution. Some of his best clients are cops.” Jeb caught his breath. “He’s in the mob?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Why do you think I faked my death? You didn’t deserve any of this.”

“I would have gone with you.” “I know, but I couldn’t take that chance. They would have killed you.” “Why? You and I are no threat to anyone. Isn’t there some kind of code? I thought family was off limits.” “Not with the Russians.” “What do they want?” “I already told you. They want Papà to use his ships to smuggle their cocaine. The Colombians are pressuring him too.

At dusk Jeb watched from the deck as Guido brought the boat back from the mainland and pulled it into the slip. Donato disembarked with two rough-looking men who walked in opposite directions down the deck and blended into the shadows. He looked like a banker or even a senator in his gray suit and red necktie. He waved to Jeb. “Did you get some sleep?” “I did.” The phrase, sleep with the fishes, came to mind, but he thought it was best to not mention it. Donato slapped him on the shoulder. “You must be hungry. Let’s have some dinner.” Jeb was quick to agree. His stomach had been growling since he had cancelled lunch with Raul. Angie ed them in the dining room. She wore a pink sundress with a hibiscus in her hair. Jeb felt out of place wearing the only outfit that he possessed—the slacks that Angie had brought to the hospital and the Jacob T-shirt. White linen covered the table, and the china exhibited battle scenes from medieval Italy. A girl with a Navy hat and blouse and a short skirt poured Merlot into their glasses. Donato toasted to long life, a concept that seemed problematical, at best, to Jeb’s way of thinking. Then he thanked Jeb again for bringing his daughter home.

His gratitude seemed unfounded. “I had nothing to do with it. She brought me here.” “True, but you saved her life, and she wouldn’t have come without you.” He asked how Jeb got an oxymoron name like Jeb Stuart Grant. It was a question that he had answered many times during his life. He explained that people in North Carolina were not fond of General Grant. “My father tried to compensate by naming me after Jeb Stuart, a Confederate hero.” Donato lifted one eyebrow. “Did it help?” “Not really.” Donato gulped his wine and sat the glass beside his plate. “You know, you can’t go back.” Jeb was not prepared for the blunt truth. “What do you mean? I’m taking the bar exam in July.” He shook his head. “I promised Angelina that I would protect you, but I have no clout in North Carolina. You need to stay here.” “I’ve got a job waiting for me in Charlotte.” “You wouldn’t survive a week. Not after you killed Vlad Sokolov’s son.” “I knocked him out, but he’s still alive. We saw him at the airport. Didn’t we, Angie?” “Yes. He’s not dead.” Donato held out his glass, and the girl filled it. “That was Marat. Word on the street is that you killed his brother Yefim and left his body in an alley. Is that a lie?” “I don’t know. I shot someone. He was chasing Angie.” Angie placed her hand on her forehead as if she had a migraine. “I don’t know what Yefim looked like, but we shot two men. They’re both dead.”

Donato sighed like a parent trying to make a small child understand. “One of them was Yefim.” Angie looked out over the bay. “We’re screwed.”

After desert Donato said that his doctor was waiting to see Jeb in his room. Angie stayed at the dining table to talk with her father while Jeb left to see Doctor Fisher. He was a heavy-set man in his sixties, wearing tros and a floral, Hawaiian-style shirt. Jeb sat on his bed while the doctor removed the bloodstained dressing and stared at the entrance wound on Jeb’s left chest. “You’re lucky to be alive.” “Yeah, this has been my lucky week.” Ignoring Jeb’s attempt at humor, the man listened to his chest and reexamined the incision. “The skin is turning red. Did they give you any antibiotics?” “I kind of departed in a hurry.” “You mean you signed out against medical advice?” “No. I just left a few hours after the surgery without telling anybody.” “That wasn’t very smart.” He cleaned the wound with a solution that smelled like alcohol. Jeb related how Angie had come to the hospital and made him leave. “She said that men would come to kill me, and she was right. I’d be dead now if I’d stayed.” “I stand corrected. She’s a survivor.” He smeared a brown ointment over the incision. “I when that man attacked her with a knife. She broke his nose and escaped with just a gash on her arm.” This story was hard to reconcile with the girl that Jeb had known at Carolina. “When was that?” “The summer after she graduated from high school. She disappeared the next

day. I thought they must have caught up with her.” Jeb ed the sling on her arm the day they met and her lame explanation about falling in Pilates class. The lies had begun with the first words out of her mouth. “Do you know who did it?” “She wouldn’t say.” Doctor Fisher applied a clean dressing and handed Jeb a bottle of cephalexin. “Take one now and four times a day for a week.” Jeb stepped into his private bathroom, turned on the spigot, and swallowed the first capsule. Returning to the room, he found that the doctor had left. Thinking that he would re Angie and her father, he tried to open the door. It was locked.

CHAPTER 19

Angie sat on the deck across the table from her father. The sailor girl with the miniskirt filled their glasses with Merlot for a third time. Angie waited for her to finish and to leave the room before speaking. “Why did they try to kill me?” Her father gulped his wine and set the glass on the table. “I’m getting old. They know that you are my natural successor.” Angie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was Papà’s dream, not hers. “That’s ridiculous. Raul has been sucking up to you for years. He expects to inherit that honor.” “He’s not shrewd like you.” “I’m not interested.” He waved his hand displaying the opulent home and the beautiful setting. “It’s not a bad life. You would do well.” “Like my mother and Lenny and Matilde?” “They ignored the rules. You just have to be careful.” “I don’t want to be careful. I want a normal life.” “But you aren’t normal. You have the instincts of a don. Who else could have survived that attack in Durham?” She recalled how close she had come to dying—how she almost got Jeb killed. “Jeb deserves the credit for that, not me, and he’s not going to stick around. He has a career that does not involve breaking the law.” Papà frowned. His forlorn expression almost looked sincere. “Not anymore. Vlad lost a son. He won’t forget, and neither will Marat.” Angie did not believe the situation was as hopeless as her father implied. “You

lost a son too. Isn’t that enough? Can’t you negotiate some kind of truce?” “No, but I have a plan. Maybe we can persuade him that the cost is too high.” “I don’t want to know about it.”

Jeb awoke at six o’clock the following morning. His door was no longer locked. He walked onto the deck where he found Donato, Angie, and Raul drinking coffee and eating pastries. He almost questioned Donato about the locked door, but the man seemed in a jovial mood, and Jeb made an executive decision not to risk changing it. Raul stood and said, “Some of us have to work today.” He climbed onto the boat. Guido started the engine and steered the vessel into the waterway Jeb held back a cheer as he took the chair beside Angie. “You two are up early.” Angie shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.” Donato held out his cup for the sailor girl to refill with coffee. “I’ve got a lot to do today.” Jeb started to ask what but thought better of it. “I imagine your business requires a lot of time.” “It does, but I hope to get Angie to help me.” Jeb was unable to formulate an answer. He could not believe that Donato would ask such a thing. Surely he doesn’t want her to risk going to jail. Angie narrowed her eyes and stared across the table at her father. “I thought we already settled that issue.” “Not completely. This is totally legit.” “That will be a shocker.” “Yes, I think you will be pleasantly surprised.” He turned to Jeb. “I may have some work for you too, if you are interested. Again, totally legit.”

Jeb knew enough about Donato to be certain that he did not want the man’s name on his résumé. Nothing would close doors faster than a connection to a known mobster. Angie saved him from an awkward refusal. “Leave Jeb out of this. He has to study for his boards.” Donato shrugged. “All right, but the offer is still there.” Angie pushed away from the table. “Jeb needs a computer.” “He can use the one in my library.”

Donato led Jeb through the house to a mahogany ed room lined with builtin bookshelves covering all four walls. A single plate glass window displayed the sun rising low over the bay. An oak computer desk dominated the center of the room. Donato pointed to the 27-inch iMac that sat on the flat surface. “Have at it. There’s wireless internet, and if you need paper or pens, they’re in the top drawer.” Jeb walked to the leather swivel chair and sat. “Thank you, sir.” “You’re welcome. If you need any books, I can send Guido to the university book store.” “Everything I need is on the internet. I already paid for an on-line bar review course.” Donato walked to the door, but stopped. “You know, Vlad and Marat are not going to let this vendetta drop. If you go back to North Carolina to take this exam, they’re going to kill you.” “Then why are you helping me to prepare for it?” “Because that’s what Angie wants. She asked that you be free to do whatever it is that you want to do.” Jeb thought of the lock that secured him in his room at night. “Does that mean I’m free to leave?”

“Of course, but I can protect you here. If you leave, you’re on your own.” “Then why was I locked in my room last night?” “My apologies. I had a meeting with my peers. It would have been awkward if you had stumbled into it.” Jeb pictured Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, and Robert Duval in a gathering of the Corleone family. He was glad not to have been invited. “What are your plans for Angie?” “I hope she will me in the business. You too.” Jeb did not want to appear ungrateful, but he wanted no part of Donato’s world. “That’s very generous, but I want to return to North Carolina.” “You’re a brave man, Jeb. Let me know if you need anything.” He left, closing the door behind him. Jeb sat at the desk and dropped his head in his hands. He wondered if he should leave immediately while Donato was willing to let him go. That choice left him with too many questions that he could not ignore. What will happen to Angie? Will she work for him? Will she be sucked into his life of unbelievable wealth and violence? Will it all lead to prison? Will it get her killed? He leaned back and surveyed the room. Classical books lined the shelves of one wall: Shakespeare, Aristotle, Chaucer, and Browning, to name a few. He wondered if Donato had read any part of them. He stared out the window across the bay at Key Biscayne. What a beautiful place to live. He booted the computer, opened Safari, and typed in the web address. The bar review course flashed on line. He clicked for the section on criminal law and began to read. His thoughts drifted to his own legal problems. Officer Miller suspected he was guilty of arson. Conviction of that crime would lead to jail time and would end his legal career before it even began. What if he finds out about the man I killed? Would I face the death penalty? Could I convince a jury that it was self-defense after I fled the scene?

He did not want to think about the hundreds of people that died when the airplane exploded. Will the FBI figure out that I was one of the trio who checked in and left? I should have called them. I should have told them everything. Now, no one will believe me. His best option seemed to be to lay low until time to take his boards. The police could not question him if they could not find him. After a month, any witnesses may have trouble ing. He did his best to push these thoughts from his mind, and returned his focus to the materials he had to memorize.

Angie stood in her father’s study, looking at a portrait of her mother that hung on the wall opposite an antique oak desk and four full-sized oak filing cabinets that sat behind the desk. Papà ed her. He lowered his eyes as if in recognition of the sadness on Angie’s face. “We have a lot to talk about. Jeb should be able to entertain himself for a while.” “He’s studying for the most important test of his life.” “You and I both know he will never take that test.” “You don’t know Jeb. He took his final exam the morning after Marat tried to kill us, and even after they burned down his house and set the police on him, he attended his graduation.” “Perhaps you need to talk some sense into him.” She folded her arms in front of her chest. “He won’t listen to me. I’ve told too many lies.” “Surely he can see that you had no choice.” “According to him, friends don’t lie to friends.” “Everybody lies to everybody.” She realized that her father would never understand the way that Jeb had placed

her on a pedestal and how far she had fallen. “What is this thing that you want me to do?” Papà closed the door. “I want you to stay home.” “Why?” “You’re my only daughter.” “I can’t live in the same house with Raul.” “He has his own place. He only stays here occasionally.” “That’s too often for me.” “I’ll make him move out.” “He won’t like that.” “So what. Blood is blood.” “I can’t live like this.” Her father sat in the leather-bound chair behind his desk. He folded his hands together. “Like what?” “Constantly having to outwit the Russians and the Colombians and the cops— knowing that one day you’ll make a mistake or just get unlucky, and someone will pop a bullet into your head or hall you off to a jail cell for the rest of your life.” “What if I gave all that up?” “What?” “If you stay, I’ll go legit.” Angie walked to the couch and sat with her hands in her lap. “You’re serious?” “I’ll sell my s to the competition and let Raul have the escort business.”

“So what would you do?” “I have more money than we could possibly need. You could manage it for me.” It sounded too good to be true. She wondered how much she could trust this man who had donated half of her DNA. He had always been fair with her, but he had a dark side that he carefully hid. She wondered what he was hiding now. Would he actually give up his power, or was this a trick to make her stay? She walked to his desk and leaned forward, looking him in the eye. “You would really give all this up for me?” “Yes.”

Raul returned to the island at nine p.m. Angie and Donato sat on the deck drinking white wine and talking. He pulled up a chair beside them. “Hi, sis. How was your first day home?” “Good. I got to talk with Papa, and Jeb did a lot of studying.” “Where’s he now?” The blonde in the navy outfit handed Raul a scotch on the rocks. Donato clicked glasses with him. “Asleep.” Raul laughed. “He’s a regular party animal, isn’t he?” Angie came to his defense. “He’d still be in the hospital if he hadn’t snuck out. I’d say he’s holding up pretty good.” “What about you? How’re you holding up?” “Fine. It feels nice to be home.” “I’m glad to hear that. I missed having a little sister.” Angie pushed back her chair and stood. “I’m still sleep deprived from the past few days. I’m going to bed.” She did not look tired. Raul knew that she just wanted to get away from him.

She’d better be going to her own bedroom. If that creep sneaks in there, I’ll cut his balls off. After she disappeared into the house, he focused his attention on Donato. “I’m thinking we need to buy another boat. We could handle a lot more Mexicans, and there’s no shortage of spics who want to get out of that hellhole.” “I have to be careful. Right now we’re staying under the radar, but if we get too big, we’ll attract attention, and Uncle Sam could make the whole house of cards fold.” “All right. I have another proposition that will more than double our income with the same ships and personnel we’re using now.” “We’re already discussed that. I’m not getting into the drug trade.” “That’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to. Vlad would handle all the procurement and distribution. All we have to do is transport the coke on our boats, and he will split the profit down the middle.” Donato frowned. “When have you been talking to Vlad?” “I haven’t. Marat called me. He’s acting as a go between.” “I don’t want you having any with them. You can’t believe a thing they say. They’d just as soon shoot you in the back of the head.” Raul knew better than to persist. Once Donato made up his mind, he would not put up with any dissention. He’s getting old. Afraid to take any chances. Donato excused himself and left for bed. Raul held out his glass to the blonde in the miniskirt. “I need a refill.” When she returned with it, he slid his hand up under her skirt. “I brought you something.” She took a sip of his drink and handed it to him. “I was hoping you hadn’t forgotten about me.” He pulled out his wallet and counted out ten hundred-dollar bills. “Do you think

you could get Angie’s friend to fuck you?” She pulled his finger into her mouth and sucked on it. “Does whipped cream come from cows?”

CHAPTER 20

Jeb slept late the next morning. He found a note on his door:

GONE TO MAINLAND WITH PAPA. SEE YOU IN THE AFTERNOON. LOVE YA, ANGIE.

He walked through the house. No one was there except for two guards, Annie the cook, and the waitress/bargirl with the sailor hat who wore her miniskirt, high heels, and a white T-shirt with no bra. Her full breasts stretched the cloth tight displaying the outline of her prominent nipples. She looked at Jeb with pale blue eyes that drew his gaze away from the tan skin of her perfectly formed legs. Her blonde hair danced in the breeze that swept off the bay as she carried a tray of pastries and a pot of coffee to the table beside Jeb. She poured a cup for him. “Do you mind if I sit? These heels are killing me.” He pulled out a chair for her. “I could use the company. Looks like everybody has evacuated the ship.” She glided into the seat. “I’m Ginger.” He shook her hand. It was warm to touch. He liked her smile. “Jeb.” “You’re not from here, are you?” “No. North Carolina. What about you?” “Been in Florida all my life. I’m a part-time student at University of Miami.” “How’d you end up working here?”

“Raul.” Jeb had suspected that was the case. He lifted his cup to his lips. “Does he pay you well?” “Two hundred dollars a pop.” He choked on his coffee and coughed several times before returning the cup to the saucer. “That’s serious money.” “Nobody complains.” “I’ll bet not.” She moved her hand to his knee. “Raul has gone for the whole day. I’m in the first room on the left. For you there is no charge.” She pushed back her chair, and Jeb watched her walk to the door. She glanced back at him and smiled before disappearing into the house.

Guido steered the boat into the marina. Angie disembarked with her father and walked the length of the dock to a huge warehouse. He opened the bay door and pointed to dozens of John Deere tractors. At least ten men worked with heavy equipment moving them. “We plan to load these this afternoon,” he said. “They’re going to Honduras.” “Tractors?” She had thought that his only cargo was human. “Why not? They do a lot of farming down there.” He led her up a flight of stairs to a large office space with windows overlooking the bay. She saw four different men working at desks in four different cubicles. Donato stepped into a large room that served as his office. Work orders and bills cluttered the mahogany desk. Five filing cabinets stood behind it. One of the drawers hung open. On the desk, Angie recognized pictures of herself and Lenny as teenagers. He pointed to the cushioned, swivel chair behind the desk. “Have a seat.” She sat and spun to face the panorama of boats through the plate-glass window.

“It’s a beautiful view from here.” “Yeah, it is now with you sitting behind that desk.” “It’s not going to happen, Papà. I don’t want this kind of life.” “What life?” “Trying to stay two steps ahead of the law. Paying off cops. Smuggling illegals.” He placed both hands on the desk and leaned toward her. “It doesn’t have to include any of that. I told you. I’m ready to retire. You can run it however you want.” She turned back to face him. “You’re serious?” “I’ve never been more serious in my life. Lenny is dead. You’re all I have left. I want you here with me.” Angie wished she could believe him, but he had made a life of lies. “You’re saying all this could be mine?” “Absolutely, but don’t expect it to be a cakewalk. We have six boats. Someone has to find customers who want stuff shipped from here to Mexico or Central America and other stuff to fill the boats for the return trip. It all has to be coordinated so the cargo arrives when the boats are ready. You can’t have a boat come back empty. You have to worry about payroll and taxes and dealing with foreign merchants and government officials. “What about Raul?” “He doesn’t need this. He makes his money off the prostitutes.” “Maybe so, but he won’t be happy.” “You let me worry about that.” “What about the stowaways? Who manages them?” “I do, but like I said, that stops if you take over—unless you decide you want to give it a try.”

“Definitely not. Everything has to be legal, or I want no part of any of it—and even if I get in trouble, you are not to kill anybody else on my .” “What are you talking about?” She told him about the sexual predator and his assistant prosecutor friend in New Orleans. “I’ve never even been to New Orleans.” “I’m sure that’s true, but you sent somebody there to do the job.” “Why would I do that?” “To get your daughter out of prison.” “You were in prison?” There was no mistaking the shock on his face. He didn’t know. The ramifications of that discovery hit home. Somebody killed two people to get me out of prison so they could kidnap or kill me.

Raul removed the headphones from his ears and dropped them on his desk. He had heard more than he could stand. Donato is giving everything to Angie. He said she was all he has left. I’m nothing to him. And Angie’s no better. The slut wouldn’t even sit and talk with me last night— doesn’t want me in the same house with her. And now she’s scheming to take everything I worked my whole life to get. I would have shared it all with her. He loved the fear in her voice when she discovered that Donato had not gotten her out of prison. I wonder how long it will take her to figure it out—to realize that I saved her from that rat-hole prison—that the brother she betrayed killed those two assholes to set her free—that she owes me big time and I intend to collect. He popped the lid off a bud lite, took a deep drink, and picked up the earphones again. Angie was talking. “There’s something wrong with Raul. He needs help.

Do you think he would agree to see a psychiatrist?” Donato laughed. “I wouldn’t advise telling him that.” “Somebody needs to.” “Maybe, but he was born that way. No shrink is going to change him.” Raul crushed the beer can with his hand, splashing the liquid on the floor. We’ll see who needs a brain sucker after I finish with you, you backstabbing, old fool. He flipped open his cellphone and punched in seven digits. His mind focused on Angie, naked and tied to his bed, begging him to forgive her. We’ll see who gets the business and who gets dead. Marat answered on the third ring. “What do you want, Raul?” “Meet me at the cabin.”

Angie returned on the boat with her father late in the afternoon. Jeb was not on the deck, so she checked the library. It was empty. She found him sleeping in his room. He’s been through hell this week. I guess he deserves some time to convalesce. She ed her father in his study and went over his records with him until Ginger tapped on the door and said, “Dinner is ready.” Jeb was waiting in the dinning room. Angie patted his shoulder and said, “I see you’ve spent some quality time in bed.” He nodded without meeting her gaze. “We need to talk about that.” She slipped into her chair. “After dinner. I’m glad you got some rest. You needed it.” Donato entered the room. Ginger filled three glasses with Merlot, and he proposed a toast. “To Laudicino & Laudicino, Associates.”

Angie glanced at Jeb as she lifted her glass. He looked back and forth between father and daughter. “What is Laudicino & Laudicino?” Donato either did not notice or did not care that Jeb’s glass stayed on the table. “Angie has agreed to manage my business affairs.” Jeb reacted as if Angie had slapped him. “Is that true?” Angie felt like strangling her father. She had planned to tell Jeb after dinner, in private, when she could explain all the nuances of her decision. “This is good, Jeb. We’ll have all the money we need, and we’ll be safe.” “You’ll be safe. I’m leaving in the morning.” Jeb pushed back his chair and marched out of the room.

CHAPTER 21

Jeb sat on his bed with his head in his hands, wondering how he became such a fool. How could I have been so wrong? Angie must have a split personality. Why can’t Cristina take control? She tried to get away from the mob. She would never have ed it, or was she just a front? Was she Angie all along? Was everything about her a fabrication? He thought about packing but realized that he had no suitcase and nothing to put into one. Since Angie had called that night, he had lost everything he owned. All he had was his law degree, and that was worthless. No one would allow me to take the bar exam. I can’t hide for the rest of my life. I’m going to jail. He ignored the knock on his door until it opened. Angie stood in the hallway. She did not attempt to enter the room. When he lifted his head, she said, “I’ll be in the study if you want to talk.” He shook his head. The door closed. He lay supine on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

Raul rode north to the Tamiami Trail and followed it west into the Everglades. He found the road to the cabin and took it. Marat was supposed to be alone, but he stood waiting on the porch with two muscle men with bulges under their windbreakers and with a tall, solidly built man whom Raul recognized from pictures as Marat’s father, Vlad Sokolov, leader of the Russian mob. Raul almost spun the car around and fled. Common sense made him park it and get out. If they want to kill me, I’ll never reach the highway. Kirill will already have me in his sights. He carried a package to the porch and handed it to Vlad. Nausea built in the back of his throat. He thought of Brizio and wondered if he would end up in the stomach of a giant reptile. Vlad looked at him with steely eyes as he opened the box and removed three bags of white powder. He opened one of them and tasted it. “Is this all of it?”

Raul knew better than to cheat the Russian. He did not want to follow Brizio into the water. “That’s everything your man gave my man in Mexico.” Vlad kept his gaze locked on Raul’s face. “Good.” A briefcase lay at his feet. He opened it and showed Raul that it was filled with money. “Should I give you this?” “That was the deal.” “What’s to keep me from just putting a bullet in your head and keeping the cash?” Raul felt the sweat roll down his face. He did not want to die. “I’m more valuable to you alive than dead. That’s why I wasn’t afraid to come alone.” Vlad laughed. “How’s that?” “Donato doesn’t want to deal with you. He’s afraid of the drug trade. If I replace him, we can enter into a partnership. I’ll supply the ships, and you provide the coke. We both win.” “So he’s going to just let you take over?” “No. You’re going to have Kirill take him out.” “And start a gang war? I don’t think so.” “There won’t be any war. Donato dies, and I take over. Why should I start a war if we can be partners?”

Angie sat in the leather swivel chair in the study and stared at Key Biscayne. As the glow of sunset faded, lights appeared in the homes across the bay. She stayed in the darkness. Fatigue pulled her toward her bedroom, but she resisted and continued to wait. After a while, the faraway lights began to go out as people went to bed. Angie considered going to Jeb’s room, but that seemed counterproductive. If he hasn’t given up on me, he will find his way here. Sometime after midnight she heard footsteps in the hall. She wondered if her

father was coming to see if she was all right. Jeb appeared in the doorway. She broke the silence. “You came.” “Guilty as charged.” “Are you sorry that you did?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.” “Then why are you here?” “I couldn’t stay away.” She crossed the room and reached for him. “My father has agreed to retire. That’s why I’m going to work for him.” He pulled away from her. “How can you work for him if he retires?” “He’s turning the gambling and prostitution over to Raul. I get the shipping business. “Smuggling young girls up from South America to service Raul and his clientele?” It bothered her that he believed she was capable of something that depraved. “No. Papà agreed to give that up.” “Why? That’s where the money comes from.” “Because he wants his daughter. That’s the deal. All his projects will be above board.” His eyes narrowed. “There’re more?” “Of course. He has a nightclub in South Beach, several charity obligations, and lots of investments. I’ll be in charge of them all.” “What makes you think he’ll really do that?” “I told you. He wants his daughter back.”

“And you trust him?” “Yes.” He sighed and reached for her hand. “Then I apologize. I acted like an ass at dinner.” She wanted to hug him but there were things that had to be said. She needed more than his blessing. “Apology accepted. Now I have a proposition.” “I’m listening.” “Papà wants you to be our attorney.” He stepped back. “I doubt that’s true after the way I acted tonight.” “Actually he was impressed—said you have balls.” “I’m glad he noticed, but how am I supposed to take my boards while his competitors are trying to kill me?” “He says he has a plan to make them leave us alone.” “Let’s hope it works.” The tension in her shoulders relaxed. He’s with me on this. I didn’t think it was possible. “Now, you said at dinner that you wanted to talk about something else.” He blushed and stared at his feet. “You know the girl that served us dinner?” She knew her all too well. Why does Papà let Raul bring his whores to our house? “The one you keep stealing glances at?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Something happened this morning you should know about.” “You bastard.” “I believe Raul paid her to get me in bed.”

She shoved him away with both hands. “So that makes it all right?” “No.” He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “I declined, but she offered. I think he wants to hurt you anyway he can.” “You didn’t go to bed with her?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because—It doesn’t matter. I’m glad we cleared the air. I’ll see you in the morning.” “Are you staying?” “For a while, if that’s all right.” She nodded. He walked back up the hall.

Jeb undressed and climbed into bed, but sleep did not come. His mind wrapped around Donato’s offer. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that Angie was making a terrible mistake. I don’t trust him. He might say he’s going to become an honest citizen, but it will never happen. Why can’t Angie see the obvious? She was right to run away from him. He’s going to get her killed. He was sure that he had made the right decision to return to North Carolina when it was safe, but Angie’s reaction to Ginger’s indiscretion bothered him. She was angry. Why should she care? She pretended to be dead just to keep away from me. I’m not going down that path again. It leads to a dead end. He gave up trying to sleep. Every night since Angie returned had been filled with doubts and questions and surprises. He slipped back into his clothes and walked out on the decking. Donato stood against the railing, staring out over the bay. There were no clouds, and the moon had not risen above the horizon. He seemed unsurprised that Jeb was wandering around alone. He pointed into the sky. “It’s such a clear night that you can actually see Libra.”

Jeb stared at the cluster of stars, but they were so faint, he had difficulty deciphering a pattern. He was surprised that Donato would know about such things. “Maybe it’s a sign. Isn’t it supposed to represent justice and harmony?” Donato laughed. “That’s the modern take, but the ancients thought it was the chariot for the god of the underworld.” Jeb kept studying the patterns of the points of light, but saw only chaos. “I think I like the current interpretation. It’s a little less ominous, considering what we’re up against.” Donato turned to face Jeb. “Try to look at the bright side. You’re alive, and you’re finally back with Angie. Life could be a lot worse.” “Except people are dying right and left. Are you really going to retire? Because if you aren’t, you need to be straight with her. She’s staking her life on it.” “You care about her. Don’t you?” “I do, but we aren’t together. She ended that a long time ago.” Donato glanced back at the stars. “You really don’t have a clue, do you?”

CHAPTER 22

When Jeb got up the next morning, the sun hung high in the sky. Angie and her father were talking in his study with the door closed, and Raul had left for the mainland. He sat on the deck and glanced through the newspaper that Guido had delivered when he came for Raul. Ginger came outside and whispered in his ear, “My offer still stands.” Jeb thought she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Perhaps under other circumstances he would have reconsidered, but he knew that Raul was paying for her services, and if Raul wanted him to have sex with her, then nothing good would come from it. He smiled, but said, “I’m out of commission for a while. Just had surgery. What’s on the menu for breakfast?” “Whatever you want.” “How about two poached eggs on an English muffin with ham, crabmeat, and hollandaise sauce?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll check with the cook.”

Ginger returned in twenty minutes with his special order, orange juice, and coffee. Jeb decided that this was not a bad lifestyle. He consumed it all and adjourned to the library. At noon he returned to the deck for lunch. Donato sat at the table, reading the Miami Herald. Angie occupied the lounge chair with her legs coiled beneath her skirt and her attention absorbed by a novel on an iPad. Ginger filled their glasses with Champagne. Angie gave her a hard look but said nothing to her. Donato seemed oblivious to Jeb’s faux pas of the previous evening. He stood and lifted his glass: “To my new consigliere.” “I think the term is attorney,” Jeb said, “and I appreciate your confidence, but

I’m not ready to take on that kind of responsibility. I need to work for a law firm —get some experience.” Donato sipped his drink. “Just think about it. You don’t need to decide right away.” He returned to his seat. Jeb knew he would never take the job and that he should make that clear, but it was easier just to shrug and say nothing. He looked out over the bay. A Boston Whaler fishing boat stopped in the water forty yards away. A man at the stern put down his fishing pole and bent forward. When he lifted his head, he held a rifle in his arms. He aimed it toward the house. Jeb dove at Donato and Angie, turning over their chairs, and sending them both to the floor as the rifle fired. Wood splintered on the wall beside Donato’s head. More shots came. Ginger landed beside Donato. Blood pumped from her chest. Jeb crawled to her. He held pressure over the wound. The bleeding continued around his hand. Donato’s guards fired back at the rifleman with submachine guns. The boat sped away. Ginger gasped for air. Her face grew pale. She stopped breathing. Jeb began R. Angie stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. “She’s dead, Jeb. You can’t bring her back.” Donato pulled himself to his feet and limped to his chair. A prominent bruise marred his forehead where his head had hit the floor. He looked at Ginger and grimaced. “The bullet hit her heart. It’s over.” Jeb stepped away from the body. Blood soaked through his clothes. He leaned against the wall and stared at the boat as it escaped up the waterway. “Why did they attack? I thought you were working out an arrangement.” “That’s the plan, but it will take some time. They killed my son. Obviously they have to pay for that first.” Angie picked up her chair, slammed it in front of her father, and sat facing him. “What did you do?” “Just showed them that you pay a price if you fuck with Donato Laudicino.”

“Quit speaking in riddles. What price?” “Their cocaine factory. It blew up last night.” “You said you were getting out.” “I am. I just had a score to settle first.” “And you thought that would make them more agreeable?” “These people respect strength.” Jeb threw his hands in the air. “I want no part of this.” Angie pushed back her chair and walked to Jeb. “Neither do I. We’re leaving.” Donato glanced at Angie. His face fell. “That might be best. You’ll be safe at my compound in Mexico. I can fly you there in the morning.” “What about Jeb?” “He should go too. I’ll send for you both when everything is settled.” “We aren’t coming back until you are completely legit. “I’ll be clean as a Baptist preacher.” “Jeb has his bar exam in July.” “He can fly up the day before and return as soon as it’s over. I’ll send Alessi to watch out for him.” Angie turned to Jeb. “Does that work for you?” He looked down at the corpse on the deck. “What about Ginger?” Donato nodded across the bay. A boat with a flashing light approached. “Somebody must have heard the shots. The cops are on the way. They’ll take care of her. Angie caught Jeb’s arm. “I’m taking Jeb to the secure room. He can’t afford

another encounter with the police.” Donato nodded. “Neither can you—not after what happened to Mr. Bouffard.” Jeb lifted his head, once again reminded of all the secrets that she harbored. “What is he talking about? Are you in trouble with the cops?” Angie glared at her father. “This is all your fault.” She stormed off the patio into the house. Jeb followed her down the hallway.

Angie led Jeb into Donato’s study. She pressed a button under the desk, and the built-in bookcase receded into the wall, creating a one-foot opening. She pulled Jeb through it into a small room, which had just enough space for two cots. The opening closed, eliminating all light. “They won’t find us here,” she said. Jeb’s voice came out of the darkness. “Who’s Mr. Bouffard?” She did not understand why her father had thrown out the man’s name. I have to tell Jeb about him, but now is not the time. He’s just getting used to my being alive and having such a dysfunctional family. “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Well, I do. I keep asking for answers, and you keep avoiding my questions. Where have you been all these years?” She stumbled to the nearest cot. “I told you. New Orleans.” Jeb sat beside her. “Doing what?” “Would you believe I graduated from Tulane?” “Why shouldn’t I believe you? You would never lie to me.” Angie winced, but did not respond in kind. She deserved his skepticism. The only way to re-earn his trust was by telling the truth. She just wasn’t sure that he would ever feel the same about her once he knew who she really was. “I’m sorry I tricked you. When they murdered Matilde and I learned that they knew where I was, I had to leave, and I couldn’t take you with me. They would have killed you. I fled to New Orleans and changed my name to Maria Baldini, the name

you saw on my driver’s license.” “You should have told me. I would have gone with you.” “I know, but you deserved better, and this was before you ed the army and learned to survive in Afghanistan. I’ll bet you’d never been in a fight in your life.” “So why did you come back?” She told him again about the way Marat’s men tortured and killed her roommate and how they found Lenny’s e-mail telling her to go to Durham. “Marat thought I was with you. That’s why he went to Durham. They would have killed you. I couldn’t let that happen.” “Why? You had burned your bridges with me.” “Because I still care about you.” Jeb ignored that declaration and continued his inquisition. “Who is Mr. Bouffard?” Angie took a deep breath. She still did not want to talk about him, but it was obvious that Jeb was losing patience with her secretiveness. “A man I met in a bar. We went back to his house for drinks, and Mr. Nice Guy decided we were going to have sex whether I wanted to or not. I broke his nose and kicked him the groin.” “Remind me never to make you mad.” “He tried to rape me. The next morning the police came to my apartment. It turns out Mr. Bouffard was the police chief’s nephew. They charged and convicted me of prostitution and battery. Got a three-year sentence. Spent four months in prison. Then out of the blue, they released me. Said my appeal was successful.” “That’s weird. I’ve never heard of an appeal going through that fast.” “Particularly since I didn’t file one.”

“Then who did?” “Some attorney I’d never heard of.” “I don’t understand.” “Neither do I, but there’s more.” “Go on.” “The assistant DA who prosecuted me died in a car accident a week before I got out.” “Surely you don’t think that had anything to do with your release. Accidents happen.” “Of course they do, but it was quite a coincidence after the jerk who pressed charges jumped off a ten-story building. The Times Picayune called it a suicide.” “Holy crap.” “Precisely. Now no more talking. That police boat will be docking any minute.”

CHAPTER 23

Jeb had a plethora of questions, but he knew she was right. They had to keep quiet. If the police found either of them at the scene of a murder, the consequences would be grim. He thought of how carefree Angie had seemed when she was Cristina and was unable to picture her in prison. Hours ed before the bookcase slid open. Donato waved Angie and Jeb out of the darkness. “It’s safe now. They’ve gone.” Jeb shaded his eyes from the bright sunlight. “Did the police catch the sniper?” “No. They were more interested in taking the opportunity to search my house.” “What about Ginger?” “They carried the corpse with them. That’s what took so long.” Jeb wanted to have some time to talk alone with Angie, to make her unveil who she really was, but she excused herself and hurried to her room. Donato wrapped an arm over his shoulder. “You saved my life. I don’t forget something like that.” “I just acted on reflex.” “Well, I’m glad you were here.” “Angie seems pretty upset.” He shrugged. “She’ll get over it. She’s been through worse.” Jeb resented his nonchalant attitude. “She’s not as tough as you think. All she wants is a normal life.” “What do you care? You’re leaving her. Are you going back to your law school buddy?” Jeb wondered how he knew about Laura. “Angie broke it off with me eight years

ago. Whatever we had is in the past.” He narrowed his eyes. “Damn, you’re blind as a Dolphins’ referee with his head up his ass.” He stepped into the hallway. “You’ve got blood all over your shirt. Go change clothes. I’ll be in the Florida room.” “I don’t have any other clothes.” “You do now. They’re hanging in your closet. Lenny won’t need them anymore.”

Jeb returned to his room. He wished Angie had come with him. He wanted to ask her more about New Orleans. Why did she go home with that man? Who killed him? Was it her father? He walked into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. Dried blood had caked on the left side of his face and neck, and dark stains soiled his shirt and pants. He thought of Ginger and how she looked lying dead on the deck. What if it had been Donato who died? What if the bullet had hit Angie? He removed his clothes and stared at the dressing on his chest. It appeared clean. He took it off and inspected the wound. The incision was healing, and the redness had cleared. He stepped into the shower. The warm water helped his muscles to relax and his mind to clear. He wondered what Angie was doing and if she would still want to leave once she calmed down. He opened the closet and found it to be full of pants and shirts as well as several Austin Reed suits. Lenny had good taste. I wonder why he left these here. Had he planned to come home? Jeb slipped on a Polo tee shirt and white slacks. They fit perfectly. He again wondered if Donato had noticed that Lenny and he wore the same size or if it was just happenstance. He thought of the magnitude of the gesture. Lenny had been Donato’s only son. Seeing a near stranger wearing his clothes would not be easy.

The Florida room exhibited a high ceiling with large windows providing a

beautiful view of dark clouds over Key Biscayne. The space was not as appealing as the deck, but the openness there had lost its allure. The air conditioning made the space cool as Asheville in the fall. The fire in the fireplace provided a welcome distraction. A giant sailfish dominated one wall, dwarfing several lesser aquatic specimens adjacent to it. Donato sat on a recliner talking to Angie, who stood by the fireplace, holding a mint julep in her hand. She had changed into a blue pantsuit that projected the image of successful businesswoman. She stopped speaking midsentence when Jeb entered the room. Donato raised his glass to Ginger’s timely replacement, a young woman with blonde hair, long legs, and short shorts. “I could use a refill.” He tilted his head. “What would you like, Jeb?” Jeb glanced toward Angie. “Bacardi and coke.” The girl poured the drinks. Donato raised his glass to Jeb. “I failed to thank you for throwing me on the floor.” He gulped down the shot of scotch. Jeb sipped his drink. He wanted to stay alert. The island no longer felt safe. He wondered again what would have happened if Donato died. Would Raul take over? Would he protect his stepsister, or would he let loose the hostility that he seemed incapable of concealing. “It was my pleasure, sir.” Angie threw her glass into the fire and glared at her father. The flames flared upward. “This was all your fault. You promised to retire.” Donato pulled himself to his feet and stepped toward her. “No harm done. Thanks to Jeb, we’re all alive and healthy.” Angie pursed her lips. “Tell that to Ginger.” “Ginger was a whore.” “I know. Raul paid her to sleep with Jeb.” Donato raised an eyebrow and stared at Jeb with disapproval. “I find that hard to believe. Jeb is still alive and seems to have all his parts.”

Jeb felt compelled to defend himself. He did not think Donato would approve of him cavorting with a prostitute in his house, particularly when he was a guest of his daughter. “I said no.” Donato slapped him on the shoulder. “Good thing for you.” Angie stood with her hands on her hips. “I wouldn’t hurt Jeb, and he is free to do whatever he wants.” “So no harm, no foul.” He handed his glass to the Barbie clone and crossed the room. “Everything is going to be fine. When you come back from Mexico, it will all be over. I promise.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t send for us until everything is on the level.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve scheduled a meeting of all the families. They will all have something to gain by my retirement. There’s no reason for them to object.” “Good. When do we leave?” She took a step back. “My plane will be ready at nine o’clock in the morning. Guido will pick us up in the boat at eight.” Angie turned to Jeb. “Does that work for you?” He shrugged. “I don’t think we have any other options.”

The next morning, Angie carried her suitcase to the deck. She left it by the rail and retired to the table where she sipped the coffee that “Barbie” brought to her. The door opened, and she looked up expecting Jeb. Instead, Raul stepped through the entry. She hoped he would leave immediately for the mainland, but he sat across from her. “I’m sorry you’re going,” he said. Angie set her cup back into its saucer. “Why. You haven’t exactly been friendly.” “I know, but you wouldn’t even talk to me when you called from North Carolina. I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you, but you were the main reason that I left in the first place.” “Barbie” brought Raul a beer. He flipped open the lid and took a deep swig. “I know. I was a jerk, but I was just a kid. I’d like a chance to show I can be better.” Angie could not believe that he was sincere—not after the way he had behaved since she had returned. She waited until the girl went back inside the house. “Then why did you sic Ginger on Jeb?” “I didn’t. I swear.” “So why did she try to get him in bed?” He rolled his eyes. “You can answer that better than me. Haven’t you been trying to do the same thing?” “No. I’m just doing whatever it takes to keep him alive.” “Don’t you find it strange that he would reject both of you? That’s not normal. Do you think he’s gay?” “I can assure you he’s not.”

Jeb came through the doorway, followed by Donato and Guido. Donato waved to Angie. “Time to go.” Raul caught her arm. “Wait. There’s something I want to give you.” He pulled a pendant from his pocket. The huge heart-shaped stone hung from a gold chain. He handed it to her. “This belonged to my mother. She loved diamonds. She wanted you to have it.” Angie stared at the jewelry, unable to trust his words. “Matilde didn’t even like me.” “That’s not true. You didn’t like her. She couldn’t compete with your dead mother. Nobody could.” “I found her body soaked in blood. It’s hard to get over something like that.”

He slipped the necklace around her neck. “I hope you’ll try. It’s time to start over.” Guido and Donato climbed onto the boat. Jeb stood at the ramp holding the suitcase and watching her. “I’ve got to go,” she said. “Thank you, Raul.” “Truce?” She wasn’t sure what to make of his transformation, but she gave him a hug. “Truce.” Raul called to Jeb, “Look after my little sister.” Jeb took her arm and helped her into the boat. “What was that all about?” Angie shrugged. She was as baffled as he was. “I don’t know. Suddenly he wants to be my best friend.” “Do you believe him?” “No. Of course not.” Jeb turned his head toward her stepbrother. “He’s a snake, but that diamond is humungous.” She took it in her hand and stared at it. “It’s a fake. I know cubic zirconia when I see it.” Guido cranked the motor. Jeb took the seat beside Angie. “Are you sure?” Angie rolled the stone between her fingers. “Yes. What I don’t understand is why he would make such a show of giving me this piece of crap.” “Maybe he thinks it will make you believe he really has changed.” “I don’t know.” She looked back toward the house as the boat pulled away from the dock. Raul stood at the rail with the beer in his hand. He lifted it as a salute and smiled—not a friendly smile, but more one of triumph. He looks too happy. I wonder why. As the boat moved toward the center of the channel, Angie watched her home

recede from view. She had mixed feelings about leaving. Obviously the house was not completely safe, but Biscayne Bay created a wide moat that provided more of a barrier to her enemies than whatever wall her father had erected at the compound in Mexico. At least here she knew her guards. The ones there would all be strangers. She was not sure she could trust them. Donato would pay them well, but when you try to buy loyalty, it can backfire. Someone else might pay them more to walk away than her father paid them to risk their lives. Guido drove at full speed. Salt water splashed across the bow drenching the engers. Jeb pushed the wet hair from Angie’s face. “We’re going to be just fine.” She wondered if he really believed that. He has no idea how many judges and cops and thugs that Vlad controls. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.” He wrapped an arm over her shoulder. “I glad you’re alive. I missed you.” Papà sat near the stern, away from the spray of brine. He too looked back at the place he called home. Angie noticed the deepening of the wrinkles across his brow. He appeared to have aged during the few days since she had returned. He met her gaze and called over the wind, “Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of everything.” His reassurance did not have its intended effect. Angie sensed that “taking care of everything” had a hidden meaning. She wished she could get into his mind and could discern what convoluted plans he was considering. She doubted that she would approve. Is that why he’s sending me away?

Jeb stepped off the boat onto the dock. He witnessed the concentration on his companions’ faces as they scanned the dock and the surrounding parking lot. He found himself doing the same. Two pelicans perched on posts that protruded out of the water and a flock of seagulls flew overhead. Several sago palms grew in huge pots strategically placed to break the monotony of the black asphalt. The only humans visible were two men standing beside a black Cadillac Escalade. Its engine was running, and the doors stood open. The men wore dark suits that appeared inappropriate for the South Florida heat. Jeb climbed onto the

back seat after Angie. Donato claimed the front enger position. He introduced the driver. Bruno was a young man with a deep Italian accent. He tilted his head toward his engers. “Buongiorno.” The men in suits climbed into a dark blue Escalade and followed as Bruno pulled into the thick traffic. Just as Jeb began to relax, a Hummer turned in front of Bruno and slammed its brakes. The black Escalade slid into the Hummer’s bumper. A second Hummer screeched to a halt beside the Cadillac, trapping it against the curb. Doors flew open. Men wearing black masks jumped to the pavement. They opened fire with Uzis on automatic. Jeb threw Angie onto the seat and covered her with his body as bullets slammed against the windows. She shoved him off. “The glass is bulletproof.” Jeb looked out the window as she pulled the thirty-eight from her purse. Two of Donato’s bodyguards and three of the attackers lay bleeding on the pavement. Three masked men approached. Gunfire from the other Escalade took down one of them, but the attackers returned the fire. The two surviving bodyguards took off running away from the fight. Bruno threw open his door and exchanged fire with the men in masks. One of them ran to the curbside of the car. The other fired twice before falling backwards. Bruno tumbled out of the driver’s seat onto the pavement. Donato yelled, “I’m hit!” A circle of blood formed on his sport coat. Jeb climbed over the seat, pulled the door closed, and cranked the motor. The sole remaining hit man changed his clip and fired at Donato’s window. Jeb backed into the other Cadillac. He then jerked the wheel to the right, changed gears, and floored the accelerator. The truck clipped the gunman, knocking him to the ground. Jeb kept turning until the wheels stopped on top of the man’s legs. Smoke rose from the hood, and the motor stalled. Donato wheezed and struggled to breathe. Jeb threw open his door and dragged Donato out onto the pavement. Angie helped him carry her father onto the sidewalk. Blood soaked his coat and dripped onto the concrete. Jeb ripped Donato’s shirt open and compressed the skin over the bullet hole, trying to slow the bleeding while Angie used her iPhone to call 9-1-1. Sirens blared. An ambulance drove into view. It stopped beside Donato. A medic ran to his side. Jeb stepped back, relinquishing the scene to him as a second

medic checked the fallen fighters. The wail of sirens continued, and two police cars stopped in the street as a third one rounded the corner. Angie caught Jeb’s arm. “You can’t talk to the police—not after what went down in Durham.” “It doesn’t matter. My prints are all over the car.” “I wiped it down before I got out.” She pulled him through the crowd of onlookers into a department store and out its rear exit. They continued walking for three blocks. Bystanders stared at Donato’s blood that stained Jeb’s shirt. Angie veered into a clothing store where she bought a replacement shirt. He changed in the restroom. They resumed walking for another ten minutes. Then Jeb flagged a cab that took them to Mercy Hospital.

CHAPTER 24

Angie led Jeb into the emergency room. Anxious tourists, unruly children, and Spanish-speaking men and women packed the waiting area. She stood in line to talk with the receptionist who told her that she would have to wait. She used her cell to call Raul. “Papà’s been shot.” “Is he alive?” “Yes, but he lost a lot of blood.” “Where are you?” “Mercy Hospital.” “Are you hurt?” “No. Just Papà.” “Stay where you are. I’ll send help.” He hung up. She stared at the doors to the interior of the emergency room. She wanted to burst through them and find her father. I should never have come home. This would not have happened if I had stayed in New Orleans. It’s a big place. I could have hidden in the quarter. She ed Jeb in the seats against the back wall. They sat in silence for twenty minutes until a man of Indian origin in green scrubs came into the room and approached Angie. He identified himself with an English accent as Doctor Desai and explained that he was taking her father to surgery. The bullet had entered his shoulder, and the wound continued to bleed. Angie wiped tears from her cheek. “Is he going to be all right?” “I’ll do my best.”

He hurried back through the swinging doors into the patient area. A Filipino nurse reassured Angie and Jeb that Doctor Desai was the best surgeon in his field. She led them to the surgical waiting area. It was a small space with comfortable chairs and little background noise. They had the room to themselves. Someone had left the morning Miami Herald on a coffee table. Angie stared at the headlines. EXPLOSION DESTROYS ANOTHER COCAINE FACTORY. Angie felt her heart race. She picked up the paper and read the article to Jeb. The blast occurred hours after the first attempt on her father’s life. It killed four men. They all had Russian names. She threw the paper back onto the table. “The fool.” “You think your father was responsible?” “Of course. ? He took care of everything.” “I guess that’s why he wanted to get you out of town so quickly.” She was angry with her father, but that did not diminish her anguish. “Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone? Did he have to start a gang war?” Jeb held her hand. “He didn’t exactly start it. They killed his son and tried to kill you.” “But he could have ended it all.” “Maybe, but the notion that there is honor among thieves is overblown. They probably would have double-crossed him.” “Why are you taking his side? He should have retired years ago. He didn’t need the money. Lenny would still be alive, and we could have spent the last eight years together.”

Doctor Desai returned after two hours. Bloodstains soiled his scrubs and shoes. He crossed the room and sat in the chair beside Angie. “Your father is in the

recovery room.” She touched his arm. “Is he going to be all right?” He nodded. “The surgery went well.” He explained that the bullet had damaged muscles and tendons but had caused no life-threatening injury. Papà would need to stay in the hospital for several days, but his prognosis was good. Angie hugged the surprised surgeon. “When can I see him?” “When he goes to his room in about an hour. The nurse will come get you.” After he left, she returned to her seat beside Jeb. “I didn’t think he was going to make it.” Jeb wrapped an arm around her. “Your father is made of tough stuff.” “Yes he is.” She looked at her watch. “Raul should be here by now with help.” “Maybe you should call Alessi.” “I think I will.” She made the call. He answered on the second ring. “Who’s this?” “It’s me. Where are those body guards?” “What are you talking about?” “Didn’t Raul call you? Papà’s been shot. He had surgery at Mercy Hospital.” “Raul didn’t tell me a thing. He took the boat about two hours ago. Are you alone?” “Jeb is here.” “You need to get out of there.” “I’m not going anywhere until I see Papà. “Are you armed?”

“My thirty-eight is in my purse. We’re in the surgery waiting area.” “I’ll send Alonzo and Fredo.” “Thanks. Tell them to hurry.”

An hour ed. The door opened, and a young woman in surgical scrubs entered the surgical waiting room. She looked at Angie. “You can see him now.” Only family was allowed, so Angie left Jeb in his seat and followed the nurse into the intensive care unit. Papà lay in bed with intravenous lines in both arms and an oxygen mask covering his face. He smiled and held out a hand. Angie hugged him, taking care not to squeeze too hard. “The doctor says you’re going to be fine.” He tried to sit up, grimaced, and lay back on his pillow. “Thanks to that young man you brought home. He’ll make a nice addition to the family.” “If he decides to stay.” “You can tell him he has my blessing.” “I don’t think he’s ready for that.” “What is he? An idiot?” “He already has a girlfriend. A pretty one with a father who wants him to his law practice.” “What? Am I not good enough for him? I offered him a job with benefits.” “Benefits?” “He gets to work with you.” “He doesn’t want to work with me. Maybe he did once years ago, but I’m not the person he thought I was. How could he tell his friends that his wife served time in prison and that she killed people?”

“None of that was your fault.” “It still happened.”

Jeb paced the waiting room floor. Angie is taking too long. She shouldn’t be in there. Donato’s room is the most dangerous place she could be. He glanced at the TV screen. The shooting was still on the news. Someone had taken pictures with their cell phone. He and Angie were visible in the background, hurrying away from the scene. A man with olive skin and a tattoo of a spider on his neck charged into the room. He wore a threadbare sportcoat and scoffed, brown shoes. A second thuggishlooking gentleman collided with him when he abruptly stopped in front of Jeb. “Who are you?” Jeb didn’t know if the men were bodyguards from Alessi or assassins sent by Marat. “Just a visitor.” “Visiting who?” “I could ask the same thing.” “You could if you want to lose all your teeth.” He turned back to his partner. “I think this creep needs to learn some manners. What you think, Fredo?” Jeb released the breath he was holding. “You must be Alonzo.” The man grabbed Jeb by the collar and pulled him out of his seat. “How do you know my name?” “I’m Jeb Grant. Alessi sent you here to protect me.” “Like hell he did.” “I’m with Angie.” He let go of Jeb. “Where is she?” “With her father. She’ll be out in a minute.”

Alonzo took the seat beside Jeb. Fredo stood by the door. Jeb tried to talk with them, to find out what they normally did for Donato, but neither man volunteered any information. Angie returned soon after they arrived. She looked at Alonzo. “Where’s Raul?” He shrugged. “He don’t tell me nothing.” She took Jeb’s hand. “Let’s go.” Jeb followed her out the front door. Alessi waited near the street beside an Escalade that stood at the curb. He opened the back door for them and climbed into the driver’s seat. “How is he?” Angie put on her seatbelt. “He’ll live. Did you know about that cocaine factory?” His face remained placid. “Not until I saw it in the paper this morning.” “How could he think that would make us safer?” He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “You don’t think your father had anything to do with that, do you?” “I’m not six years old any longer, Alessi. Tell me what happened.” He cranked the motor and pulled into the traffic. “I wish I knew. He doesn’t talk much to anyone anymore except Raul.” “And where is Raul now?” “I don’t know.” She stared out the window. “Take us to the bus station.” The tone of her voice and the determined expression on her face reminded Jeb of her father. Once again he wondered who dwelled in her body. In her heart, was she the innocent girl he knew at Carolina, or was her soul wedded to the mob? “Where are we going?” She placed her hand on his arm. “You need to leave Miami now.”

Jeb could not understand why she said you instead of we. “And you?” “I have to stay here until Papà recovers.” Jeb gripped his seat as Alessi executed an illegal U-turn. She can’t stay here alone. It’s too dangerous. “Why?” “Because he’s my father.” “Then I’m staying too.” “Don’t be stupid.” “Why not? When I was shot, you were stupid enough to come back for me.” “That was different.” “No, it wasn’t. I’m going wherever you’re going.” She rewarded him with an exaggerated sigh. “Take us home, Alessi.”

Jeb followed Angie and Alessi onto the boat. Guido drove it over choppy water to the island. Angie stood silent at the bow. She seemed oblivious to the bouncing of the craft and the force of the wind that tossed her hair in every direction. Her gaze swept back and forth between the shoreline and the many boats that crossed their path. Her stoic expression failed to mask the fear. As they approached their destination, Jeb saw six men with submachine guns watching from the deck. Angie tapped Alessi on the shoulder and pointed to them. “Where did they come from?” He hesitated until they were close enough to come into focus. “They belong to Raul.” “Why are they here?” “He must not trust your father’s men. They did run away when those assassins attacked.”

“I don’t like it. Raul’s men are thugs.” “Just be glad they’re here. You can use all the protection we can get.” Jeb shared Angie’s concern. “Is Raul in charge now?” Alessi ignored the question. Angie frowned. “It appears so.”

CHAPTER 25

Jeb climbed to the dock, held out a hand, and pulled Angie up beside him. Two men held their Uzis pointed toward him. The closest one nudged Jeb. “Who’re you?” Angie clenched her jaw. “He’s with me.” The man held his ground until Alessi interceded. “He’s OK. He’s Mr. Laudicino’s guest.” The guard stepped back but continued to stare at Jeb with cold, black eyes. Jeb felt like he was back in a combat zone with Taliban soldiers as his only protection. Angie ignored the men’s intrusion into her life as if it were a normal sequela of combat. Jeb followed her into the house and down the hallway to their rooms. She opened her door, looked at Jeb as if about to say something, and then turned her gaze to the floor. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He knew she was still shell-shocked by the events of the morning. He did not want her to be alone. He did not want to be alone himself. Too much had happened, and too much had been left unsaid to put off making the hard decisions they had to make. The house no longer seemed safe. The goons that were guarding it had no respect for him or even for Angie. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head. “Not tonight.” She stepped into her room and closed the door.

Jeb walked to the kitchen where he found Alessi rummaging through the refrigerator. He wondered if the man had some kind of title. He seemed to be high in the hierarchy. After all, Donato trusted him to protect his daughter, and he seemed free to roam the house.

Alessi brought mayonnaise, lettuce, and a slab of roast beef to the table. He pointed to a loaf of bread on the counter. Jeb fetched it along with a knife. “This place looks like a fortress.” Alessi took the knife from him and spread mayonnaise on the bread. “We’re at war, kid.” Jeb made his own sandwich. “Angie seemed surprised that Raul’s men were here.” Alessi lifted one eyebrow. “That’s none of your concern.” “So that doesn’t worry you?” “Not like it should bother you.” “Where is Raul now?” “I don’t know, but if it were me, I’d be out talking with Donato’s men, making sure they knew I was in charge.” “Is that the way it is? Raul’s in control now?” “What does it look like to you?” The phone rang. Alessi swallowed a mouthful of roast beef, walked to the counter, and answered it. Jeb heard him say, “No, officer, Miss Laudicino is not here. She left town this morning.” Jeb was struck by how easily he lied to a police officer. He wondered what crimes he had committed at Donato’s command. Has he murdered anyone? Did he kill those two men in New Orleans? Would he hesitate if Donato ordered him to kill me? Alessi returned the handset to its cradle. “Those cops are like leaches. They won’t let go.” “What do they want with Angie?” “He didn’t say, but I imagine he wants to hear her take on the young couple that fled the scene this morning.”

“They know ?” “It’s all over the TV. They don’t know who you are, but there’s lots of speculation.” “So what should we do?” “The police are the least of your worries. Have you ever thought of moving to New Zealand? They speak English, and he probably wouldn’t find you there.” “Who?” “You do the math. I’ve said enough.” “I don’t think Angie would go to New Zealand.” “Who said anything about her. She’s not going anywhere as long as her father’s in danger.” “I’m not leaving without her.” “It’s your funeral.”

Jeb found Angie sitting in a lounge chair on the deck at seven in the morning. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying. He sat on the seat beside her. “Any word on your dad?” She nodded. “Dr. Desai called at 6:30. Papà has been out of bed already and had eggs for breakfast.” “Sounds like he’s doing well.” “Yeah—Lenny’s body arrived from New York last night. Raul scheduled the funeral for tomorrow. Papà plans to attend.” That seemed like a bad idea to Jeb. “Did the doc say he could go?” Angie shrugged. “I doubt it, but when Papà wants to do something, he does it.”

Raul stepped out of the house. He held a beer in one hand and cigarette in the other. He blew smoke toward Jeb. “Why are you still here?” Angie answered for Jeb. “He’s my guest. What’s wrong with you?” “He got Papà shot.” “You weren’t even there. Jeb saved Papà’s life.” “I doubt that.” “Where were you yesterday, and what happened to the bodyguards you were sending to the hospital?” “They got there.” “Only after I called Alessi.” “Rubbish.” He sat at the table, picked up the Miami Herald, and buried his head behind its pages. Jeb glimpsed the headline on the front page. GANG WAR RAVAGES MIAMI.

“Barbie” brought out a tray of scrambled eggs, grits, bacon, and toast. Jeb and Angie ate in silence, neither caring to carry on a conversation in front of her stepbrother. Raul finished his beer and pushed away from the table. “I can’t sit around here all day like a parasite. I’ve got work to do.” He climbed into Donato’s boat, cranked the engine, and skimmed across the water toward the mainland. Angie waited until he was out of hearing range. “Thank god he’s gone.” “He’s a real charmer.” “What would you like to do today?” “I need to study for the boards.”

“You can use Papà’s portable computer. He won’t need it today.” She disappeared down the hallway to her room. Ten minutes later, she returned wearing a red, two-piece bathing suit and carrying a paperback book and a Macbook Pro. She sat the computer on the table in front of Jeb. “Have at it.” “I could just sit here and enjoy the view.” “You’ve got to study. ?” She lay on the cushioned lounge chair and opened her book to page one. Jeb could see from the cover that the writing was in Spanish, and from the picture, it appeared to be a romance novel. He worked for several hours, but concentrating was not easy. His mind kept drifting to the alley in Durham and to the gunshot that killed Adam and almost killed him. He ed Marat Sokolov and wondered how anyone could be so callus as to kill over a hundred people out of spite. He thought of Laura and the look of shock on her face as he rolled past her on a stretcher on the way to the operating room. He knew that he needed to call her but had no idea what to say. He couldn’t reveal the truth, and he didn’t want to lie. Could he tell her where he was without referencing the girl who was lying beside him now, wearing little more than she had displayed that morning in his apartment? Then he recalled how lost he had been when Angie disappeared, and he knew that procrastination was not an option. He looked at her and had trouble diverting his gaze. “Can I borrow your phone?” She frowned but did not ask why. “The portable’s in the kitchen. I’ll get it.” He watched her swing her feet to the floor and thought of the nights those legs had wrapped around him. A long time had ed, and he wondered how much she had changed. Deep inside, was she the same girl who had loved him? At least he thought she had, but what if it had all been a lie, like everything else about her. She disappeared through the doorway and returned carrying the cordless telephone. She reabsorbed herself in the novel, while Jeb sat staring at the phone, still trying to decide what to tell Laura. Finally, he punched in the numbers.

She answered on the third ring. Her voice sounded strained as if she had been crying, or maybe she was just mad. “It’s me,” he said. “Jeb? Where are you?” “Florida.” “What are you doing there?” He had no idea what to tell her. “I’m studying for the boards.” “Why? You should be in the hospital.” “I’m fine.” “Do you want me to come down?” “No. I need some time to sort things out.” “Sort what out? Does this have something to do with that girl?” “She was just an old friend. Nothing happened.” “Don’t lie to me. It’s insulting.” “I’m not lying.” The line went dead. Jeb handed the phone back to Angie. She set her book down on the table. “Want to talk about it?” “No.” “So I’m just an old friend?” “I wish I knew what you were. So much has changed, and so much was never how I thought it was.” “I did love you, Jeb. That much was true.”

“Then why all the lies?” “I had no way of knowing things would evolve the way they did. My life depended upon staying anonymous. I didn’t want to meet someone. You were a mistake, and once I realized that we had something special, it was too late. You might have left me if you learned the truth. I wasn’t willing to take that chance.” “But you didn’t mind making me think you were dead.” “Didn’t mind? It broke my heart, but people were trying to kill me. I’ve been hiding for almost a decade. You deserve better than that.” “I deserved the truth.” He turned back to his computer and went through the motions of retrieving the documents that he needed.

In the afternoon, Jeb took a nap. When he awoke, he returned to the deck. The sun was low in the sky, and a warm breeze swept across the island. Angie had replaced her swimsuit with a black suit and black heels. She smiled at him. “Hey, sleepyhead. I thought you were in a coma.” He rubbed his eyes. “I was. Where are you going?” She glanced at the boat. “Alessi and I are going to the wake. We’ll be back when its over.” “That seems like a bad idea.” “He was my brother.” Jeb felt sure that if she left, he would never see her again. “Give me a minute. I’m coming.” “No.” “Jeb looked at Alessi. “Don’t let her leave before I change.” Alessi rolled his eyes. “Since when did you start giving orders?” “Just make her wait.” He rushed to his room.

CHAPTER 26

Angie waited in the boat with Alessi. He held an Uzi in his hands. It was the first time she had seen him carry anything larger than a pistol. When Jeb emerged from the house, she recognized Lenny’s dark blue suit and held back a sob. Guido started the motor. Jeb sat beside her. “I wish I could have known him.” She rested her head on his chest. Why did he have to die? All he wanted was to be left alone. “I should never have stayed in with him. He might still be alive now.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “They found you through him, not the other way around.” Intellectually his words made sense, but shedding the guilt did not come easy. She was glad that Jeb had come. Eventually he would return to Laura, but at least for now, she had someone who understood the pain she felt. She closed her eyes and let the tears flow.

Raul’s bodyguards stood beside two new black Escalades. Angie let Jeb help her into the back seat of the second one. Alessi set his weapon on the enger seat as he took the wheel. She looked through the windows in every direction. There were no other vehicles in sight. Jeb reached for her hand. “Where’s Raul?” “He left early. We’ll see him at the funeral home.” He said nothing more, but she could tell he was thinking that her stepbrother should be riding with her. She was glad that Jeb was there in his place. Traffic was light until they approached their destination. Chauffeurs had double-

parked their cars, obstructing part of the street, and a crowd of reporters surrounded the entrance to the building. Cameras flashed as the SUV pulled to a stop. Angie had expected a sedate, reverent atmosphere. She was glad for the tinted bulletproof windows. No one knows Jeb is here. I can’t let them see him. He’s in enough trouble already. “Wait for me here,” she said. “I’ll only be a few minutes.” He held to her hand. “I’m coming with you.” “Are you still planning to take your law boards?” “Yes.” “Then you can’t let these leaches take your picture. It’ll go viral. This is a big story. That cop in Durham will probably see it.” “I’ll take that chance.” “No you won’t. Your going in there doesn’t help me one bit. It just gives me one more thing to worry about.” She opened the door and faced the barrage of camera flashes. Alessi took her arm and led her through the crowd past two policemen into the building where the chaos ended. About thirty people stood talking. Her stepbrother stood across the room, speaking with Superior Court Judge Jorge Gonzales. She recognized a priest from the church she had attended. His hair had turned gray during the decade since she left. He took her arm and explained that God works in mysterious ways. She wanted to say that God didn’t kill her brother. Vlad Sokolov was responsible. Instead, she thanked him and moved on to Mildred Johnson, her tenth grade English teacher. Mrs. Johnson expressed her grief to Angie and asked where she had been and what she had been doing. Pride pushed Angie to tell her about graduating from Tulane, but caution prevailed. “I’ve moved around a lot, but I’m home now. Are you still teaching?” Angie walked down the aisle and stopped at the casket. It’s sealed. Oh god.

What did they do to him? The room began to sway. She bent forward and sat on a bench in the front row. After a moment, she felt someone sit beside her. The dizziness resolved. She looked up to see her Aunt Dafne. Papà’s sister had been Angie’s surrogate mother from the time Papà moved to Miami until he married Matilde. Like Mrs. Johnson, her hair had turned gray and her body had grown mildly obese. Her smile, however, was warm as ever. “You don’t have to be strong right now, sweetheart.” Angie fell into her arms. “He didn’t deserve this.” Dafne stroked her hair. “Nobody does.” After a while, Angie sat up straight. “You shouldn’t be here.” “What do you mean? He was my nephew.” “This isn’t over. You should leave town. Go back to Italy for a while.” “What are you talking about? The papers said this was a burglary that got out of hand.” “Don’t believe it.” She pulled herself to her feet and led her aunt back up the aisle. Dafne stopped her at the exit. “What about you? Where will you go?” “Nowhere. Papà needs me.”

Jeb sat in the back seat of the Escalade, observing the flow of well-dressed men and women into and out of the funeral home. One man stood at the far corner of the yard doing the same thing. He made no effort to approach the building. Jeb thought he looked familiar, but the distance was too great to be sure. He wished for a pair of binoculars. The man turned to face the Cadillac. Jeb caught his breath. Marat.

Jeb looked for the two policemen he has seen when he arrived. He wished he could tell them everything. They were supposed to arrest the bad guys, except he had no way to prove that Marat was not an outstanding citizen. They’re more likely to arrest me. He looked back where Marat had been. He was no longer in sight. A hand banged on the window. Jeb bolted around to face a uniformed police officer. The cop motioned for him to unroll his window. It was electric, so Jeb opened the door. “Is there a problem, officer?” “You can’t park here. You’re obstructing traffic.” “The driver’s inside. He should be back any minute.” “You need to move your vehicle now. Otherwise we’re going to tow it.” Under normal circumstances, Jeb would have run inside and gotten Alessi, but Marat was nearby. He looked between the seats. The keys hung from the ignition. “I’ll take care of it.” The officer stepped away from the door to allow him to exit. Jeb took the less sophisticated route. He climbed over the console into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine. The policeman slammed the door. Jeb pulled behind a white limousine that was leaving. He followed it to the first intersection and turned right.

Angie moved past Raul. He was talking with a police officer and did not look up. She left the funeral home and walked with Alessi to the street. He stopped abruptly at the curb. “The Escalade’s gone.” Angie rushed into the street and looked in every direction. Alessi was right. Jeb was not there. She ran to the corner and looked down the side street. He had disappeared. Alessi caught her arm. “Calm down. You’re drawing attention to yourself.”

His advice came too late to abort the onslaught of paparazzi. Cameras flashed. A reporter stuck a microphone in her face. “How do you feel about the way your brother died?” Angie did not answer, but the look she gave the man expressed her opinion of him for asking such an insensitive question. She saw a policeman standing at the curb. She walked toward him. Alessi caught her arm. “What are you doing?” “I’m going to ask him what happened to the Escalade.” “Not a good idea.” She pulled away and approached the cop. “Excuse me, sir. Do you know what became of the black Escalade that was parked here?” He must have recognized her, because he said, “No. I’m sorry for your loss, mam. Do you think your brother’s death was related to the shooting yesterday?” Angie wished she had listened to Alessi. She did not want to lie to the police, but they would never believe the truth. It would be easier to connect the dots between the woman who ran from the scene yesterday to the felon from New Orleans who fled from a similar murder there a few days earlier. “I don’t see how. Lenny hadn’t been here for years.” “Were you with your father yesterday?” “Yes. I rushed to the hospital as soon as I heard what had happened. Do you know who did it yet?” “No, but we’re working on it.” The Escalade moved into the space beside her. Alessi opened the front door and Angie piled onto the seat. She thanked the officer for his efforts. Alessi closed the door and jumped into the back seat. He looked at Jeb as if he had lost his mind. “Where the fuck did you go?” “Marat’s here.”

“Of course, he is. Why do you think we brought reinforcements?” Angie looked through the rear window. “Where’s the other Escalade?” Jeb continued driving. “I don’t know. The cops made me move.” She watched a dark blue BMW pull into the traffic behind them. “Go faster, Jeb. We may have a tail.” “I see him.” He pushed the speed to fifty-five mph. The car matched his pace. Jeb turned left. The BMW followed and moved closer. Angie ed the Uzi to Alessi and opened her purse. Her thirty-eight was loaded. She released the safety and rolled down her window. Jeb touched her shoulder. “What are you doing?” “Lenny had a closed casket. Those bastards mutilated him.” “I thought you wanted your father to make a deal.” She adjusted the side mirror. “Do you think that’s why these guys are following us—to make a deal?” Jeb watched the second Escalade swerve from a side street to pull behind the BMW. “The cavalry just arrived.” The BMW veered away at the next intersection. Angie returned the pistol to her purse and leaned back on the seat. She ignored the way Jeb was staring at her. He hasn’t lived my life. It wasn’t his brother that they slaughtered.

CHAPTER 27

The chef prepared stone crabs for dinner. Jeb and Angie sat at opposite ends of the table, eating in silence like a couple who had been married for thirty years and knew it was a life sentence. Jeb wished he had been firm in stopping her from going to the wake. Since seeing Lenny’s casket, she had barely spoken. Her thoughts were directed inward. Jeb wished he could decipher what they were. She ignored her food. “Barbie” brought a bottle of Merlot to the table. Jeb wanted nothing to diminish his cognitive function, but he removed the cork for Angie. Three glasses of wine did nothing to elevate her mood. “I don’t understand why they had to drag Lenny and me into this war. We were no threat to anyone.” None of it made any sense to Jeb. He felt as if some force had dragged him into a different world where evil ruled and ordinary people struggled to avoid being collateral damage. “Maybe we should just get on a bus and ride as far away from here as it takes us.” “I can’t leave while Papà is in the hospital.” “He gets out tomorrow.” “I know, but he’ll need help.” “He has Raul.” “That’s what worries me. I don’t trust him.” She pushed away from the table. “I don’t feel well. I’m going to bed.” She walked away, carrying her glass and the bottle of wine with her.

Voices of Raul’s guards outside her window awoke Angie. She bolted upright. I’ll be glad when Papà comes home. He doesn’t let his men act like jerks. She

stared at the clock. It’s three a.m. Can’t they shut up? The men moved on, and the night grew silent. Her thoughts kept drifting to Lenny. She ed the first time he took her surfing and the night they camped on Key Biscayne. After he left for New York, she had counted the days until she could leave home too. If he had stayed, I would never have gone to North Carolina—would never have met Jeb. Maybe that would have been best. I’ve made a mess of his life. I should not have brought him here. Marat will find a way to kill him. Unable to sleep, she dressed and wandered out onto the deck. Jeb sat on a chair with his sandals on the railing, staring across the bay. He dropped his feet to the floor and faced her. “What are you doing up at this hour?” She pulled a chair beside him. “I could ask the same of you.” “I don’t think you should go to the funeral.” “I have to. It’s for Lenny.” “Lenny’s dead. Your going won’t bring him back.” “I’m doing it for Papà. Marat will be there. We have to show him we aren’t afraid.” “If you aren’t afraid, you must be out of your mind.” “I’ll be fine. Raul is a jerk, but his men know what they’re doing. They won’t let anything happen to us.” “Yeah, they were real professionals last night. If you’re going, I am too.” “Not this time. Marat knows you killed his brother. If he sees you, he’ll come after us all.” “I don’t like it.” “Neither do I. We’ll be careful.”

After breakfast, Angie put on a black dress and black scarf and ed Alessi and Raul on the boat. Her stepbrother was less provocative than usual. She knew his somber mood had nothing to do with Lenny’s death. Raul was always reserved around Alessi. It was obvious that the older man disapproved of his bravado. The waterway was turbulent, and the wind wrecked havoc with her hair. As the boat approached the shore, she saw a black limousine parked beside the dock. She hollowed over the sound of the motor to Alessi. “I thought we were going in the Escalade.” He frowned and stared at the nearly empty parking area. “That was the plan.” Raul shook his head. “You two waste too much time worrying. I thought we should go in style. After all, this is going to be a media circus. We’re going to be on TV.” Alessi frowned. “You arranged this? It’s not bulletproof.” Angie glared back at Raul. “You act like we’re going to a rock concert. Lenny is dead. Who gives a damn about the paparazzi?” “Lenny brought this on himself. He should never have left.” “He wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been such an ass.” Guido secured the boat to a piling and motioned for Angie to stand. “Be careful. The water’s rough.” She stepped out of the boat and walked toward the oversized car. The neighborhood appeared deserted. She wondered why the limo was by itself. “Where are the bodyguards?” Raul opened the back door for her. “You got them killed. Don’t you ?” She slid across the seat and stared out the window, ing the ambush she had barely survived. She wondered why Raul would take a chance with their lives. Her father had plenty of men in his security force.

The limousine ed through a mass of onlookers and reporters. Uniformed police officers stood watching at the periphery, while bulky men in suits mingled with mourners and gawkers. It was impossible to distinguish the mob enforcers from the cops in plain clothes. The vehicle came to a stop behind a truck with a satellite TV antenna in front of the St. Catherine Catholic Church. Angie looked out the window at the massive Gothic structure that had played a major role in her upbringing. She wondered if the nuns would her and what they would think of the person she had become. She was fairly sure that her father did not believe in a higher being, at least not one who would hold him to the same standard as other people. Why did he insist that Lenny and I come here every week? Was he hedging his bets, or was it all for show? She wondered if Jeb still belonged to the Methodist Church or if her “death” had shaken his faith. Alessi opened her door and led her to the sidewalk. Cameras flashed. Reporters shouted questions to her. She stepped around a CNN cameraman who blocked her path and ignored the whole mob as she walked with Raul and Alessi into the building. People dressed in suits and expensive dresses packed the sanctuary. Papà sat in the front pew adjacent to an attractive young woman in a white uniform. Fluid dripped into his vein from a bottle that hung from an IV pole at his side. His shoulders sloped forward giving the appearance of someone in prayer, but his eyes remained open, his gaze fixed on the mahogany casket. Angie took the seat beside him and held his hand. “Do you feel OK, Papà?” His voice evoked a strength that belied his appearance. “I’m going to find whoever did this.”

Angie rode in the limo to the cemetery with Papà, Raul, and the nurse. They all sat in fold-up chairs on the grass in front of the deep hole in the ground as the mid-day Miami sun cast its heat upon the canvas canopy that covered their heads. Aunt Dafne occupied a place on the second row. Tears slid down her face. Scores of men wearing heavy suits sat on benches behind them. Stains of perspiration soaked through their armpits. Their wives and consorts appeared

equally uncomfortable in long dresses as they moved paper fans back and forth through the hot, humid air. The priest lamented Lenny’s premature assent to heaven and praised God for his infinite wisdom and love. Raul glanced back over the plethora of guests, as though he were taking inventory of who came to the family and who did not. Papà watched the casket descend beneath the earth. His hands shook, and he looked as though he might collapse at any moment. Angie realized that his doctors should never have released him from the hospital. “Are you all right?” He shook his head. “Of course not. My son is dead.” After Lenny disappeared into the depths of the hole, a host of people paraded past Raul, Angie, and Papà. She recognized many of them even if their names eluded her. She endured their platitudes and words of encouragement as the sultry air grew oppressive. She wished they would hurry. Papà was wilting before her eyes. He needed air conditioning and a bed. It seemed as though an hour ed before everyone had paid homage to Papà. Dafne left with them. She said nothing to her grieving brother. Angie wondered why. Alessi left to get the limousine, leaving Raul and six bodyguards strategically placed around the cemetery. The nurse helped Angie her father, and they walked toward the road with Raul trailing behind them. A black van sat at the curb beside the limo. Its doors burst open. Two men in dark suits stepped to the grass. The one who appeared to be the leader stood tall with a haughty stance. He pulled a badge from his pocket and flashed it at Angie. “Miss Laudicino, I’m Special Agent William Hamilton. I’d like a word, please.” Angie forced a smile and shook hands with him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’d like to talk, but as you can see, my father is ill. He just had surgery.” “I’m aware of his situation. That’s why we’re here. Why did you leave the scene after he was shot?” Alessi started the engine to the limo. Angie opened the back door and felt the cool interior air. She helped her father climb onto the seat. The nurse ed him and pulled the door closed. Angie turned back to the agents. “Men were trying to kill us. I waited long enough for the rescue people to reach my father and then

ran. I didn’t want to die.” “Who was the man that ran with you?” She looked past her interrogator and saw that Raul had disappeared. “I don’t know who you mean.” “We have witnesses who will testify that you left with a man in his twenties with brown hair and blood on his clothes.” “I guess you’ll have to ask them, because I was alone.” “He got out of your SUV. Surely you know who was riding with you.” “That would be Bruno. He was our driver.” “Our records show a Bruno Farfaglia was killed at the scene.” “I don’t know his last name, but Bruno didn’t leave with me. He was dead.” “What about the other man in the Escalade?” “That was my father. He had a bullet in his shoulder and couldn’t run anywhere.” “Are you trying to say there was nobody in the car except you, your father, and the driver?” “I’m not trying to say anything. It’s a fact.” “No. It’s a lie.”

CHAPTER 28

Jeb stared through the computer screen as if it were not there. He knew that he had to keep studying, but his mind would not focus. Angie should have returned hours ago. What is she doing? Why doesn’t she call the house? Was Marat there? Did he follow her? He shut down the iMac, walked into the den, and turned on the TV. The local channel ran a rerun of “Boardwalk Empire.” There was no news. He returned to the library and re-booted the computer. I have to concentrate. Everything depends upon this test. He looked at his watch—Four o’clock. Where is she? He opened his review course, but the whir of a motor interrupted his thoughts. He hurried to the deck. Guido pulled the boat beside the dock and tied the towline to a post. Raul stepped onto the planks. His jaw was set hard. He stared at Jeb, and his eyes narrowed. “She’s not with me.” Jeb looked past Guido just to be sure. “Why not? Did something happen?” Raul walked to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “The FBI took her. Donato too.” “Why?” “She wouldn’t tell them about you.” Jeb felt sick to his stomach. “You’ve got to take me to them. I’ll turn myself in.” “No. That’s not going to happen.” “Why not?” “Because you know too much. Right now they don’t have anything on Angie. You go blabbing, and that changes everything—for her, for Donato, and for me.

You would become a major liability.” He patted his arm. “You don’t want to become a danger to any of us.” His laughed, but not a funny laugh. “Come on. Let’s have a beer.” Jeb tried not to think about what could happen to someone whose existence threatened or even inconvenienced Raul. He followed him to the kitchen.

Hours ed before Angie and her father returned. Jeb stood on the deck as four bodyguards and a pretty girl dressed as a nurse came with them. Donato appeared pale and weak, and his left upper extremity hung in a sling. Angie looked exhausted as well. She ed his good arm as he staggered to the stern of the boat. Jeb pulled him to the deck. “Welcome home, sir.” Donato bent forward with his serviceable hand on his knees for a full minute. Then he stood erect and rested his palm on Jeb’s shoulder. “Thank you, son. I’m glad you decided to stay.” Jeb did not recall deciding to stay. Fate had brought him back to the island. “Sometimes providence makes those decisions for us.” “Providence had nothing to do with it. If you hadn’t acted when and how you did, we would all be dead now.” “I just acted on reflex.” “I know. You have good instincts. You’ll make a good consigliere for Angie.” Jeb did not bother to remind Donato that he had been leaving for Mexico to get away from that lifestyle. “You must be tired, sir. Do you want to lie down?” “Yes, it’s been an exhausting day.” He held to Jeb and shuffled into the house and down the hall to his room. The nurse walked beside them, carrying his IV bag above his head. Angie pulled back the sheets on the king bed. Jeb helped Donato climb beneath them and then left the room. He returned to the porch and waited for Angie. Her father looked sicker than he

had suspected. He belongs in the hospital. What doctor let him out? What will happen if he dies? Angie ed him a few minutes later. Jeb noticed the solemn expression on her face. “What’s wrong?” She removed her hat and veil. “Papà’s not going to retire.” “That’s not what he said.” “He can say whatever he wants. I know him. He won’t be satisfied until whoever killed Lenny is dead.”

Donato reappeared after dark for dinner in the dining room with Angie and Jeb. “Barbie” served the plates with chicken and paella, filled three glasses with Merlot, and retired from the room. Donato toasted Jeb, thanking him for saving his life again and asked if there was anything that he wanted. Jeb thought about it and said no. Donato could not bring Adam back to life nor could he untangle the legal challenges that Jeb faced whenever and if he were able to retake his old life. Mostly, he feared that any gifts from Donato Laudicino would come with unforeseen dangers and obligations. Donato picked at his meal and had little to say. He retired without desert. Jeb refilled Angie’s glass from the bottle that “Barbie” left on the table. “What happened at the funeral? Raul said the FBI crashed the service.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly before answering. “Some people have no class. You would think they could at least wait until we left the cemetery.” “Where did they take you?” “Their headquarters. They made Papà come too, but it was me they wanted to interrogate. They already had a go at him in the hospital.” Jeb wondered if that was standard procedure. They knew that she did not shoot her father. She was a victim—just a witness. “What did you tell them?”

“That Papà drove the car over that gunman and that I had no idea who the man was who dragged him out of the car.” “And they believed you?” She refilled their glasses of wine and smiled at him as she sipped hers. “I can be very convincing.” “I wouldn’t dispute that.” She had proven herself adroit at alternate realities, but now did not seem to be the time for that discussion. “How did your father hold up?” “Surprisingly well. We had a long talk in the car after we left. Vlad Sokolov and Sabas Ramirez, the leader of the Colombian mob, have arranged a meeting. Papà agreed to attend, supposedly to negotiate a truce.” To Jeb, it seemed a dangerous and foolish plan. “Can he trust them?” “If the work to their advantage. The question is, Can they trust him.” She pushed back from the table and led Jeb away from the kitchen door before speaking again. “He said something else that may be important. Lenny called him two days before he died. He told Papà where he was and said he was ready to return to Miami. Papà told him to tell me to come home, and when Lenny said that I would never do that, Papà urged him to tell me to find you.” “Why me?” “After I left Chapel Hill, he didn’t learn where I resurfaced until the morning after we met at Joe’s Bar. His spies kept an eye on you all those years just in case I came back to you. They were certain that you still cared for me, and he thought that you would help.” “Why? I had moved on.” She closed the gap between them and placed her arm around his waist. “Are you certain? You haven’t had a serious girlfriend since I left.” “What about Laura?” “You aren’t in love with her. You’d like to be, but it never happened. You told

me so yourself.” “Maybe I was lying.” “Maybe you’re lying to yourself. I saw you staring at me yesterday. I think there’s still a spark there.” “You were half-naked. What did you expect?” “I hoped you would come me on the lounge—maybe tell me how much you missed me.” “Missed you? My whole world collapsed. I wanted to die. And then I found out it was all a hoax.” “I did it for you.” “That’s crap.” “Is it? How has your life gone since I came back into it? Is this the way you want to live the rest of your life?” “No. I want to be with someone I can trust.” She stepped back away from him. “Everybody has secrets, Jeb. Sometimes you have to believe what your gut tells you.” “Well, my gut is on high alert. I’m not sure I know who you are.” “I’m the same girl you fell in love with.” “I wish I believed that.” Her smile faded. She set her half-empty glass on the serving cart and walked into the hall. Jeb wanted to follow and to tell her that he didn’t mean what he had said, but that would have been a lie, and too many lies had already been said. He walked to the bar, poured Jack Daniels over ice, and stared out the window across the water at the lights on the mainland. Something Angie had said bothered him. Actually it all troubled him. He had clawed himself out of the depression she had caused and had closed that chapter

of his life. Now she had ripped open the wounds, and he didn’t know what to do. He wished that they could go back eight years and resume where they left off, but that part of their lives had been a mirage. He had loved the lie, but now he had to face the truth. Cristina had been a fabrication. He had never really known her. That, however, was not the dilemma. He had been perplexed about how the Russians found Angie. Now he thought he knew. After two more drinks, He mustered the courage to confront her.

Jeb heard the voices of the guards at the opposite end of the house, but otherwise, all was quiet. He walked in the darkness to Angie’s door and stood there second guessing his conclusions. Finally he knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Angie apparently knew who it was, because she said, “Go away.” Jeb should have done as she asked, but the tone of her voice betrayed that she had been crying. He turned the knob, and to his surprise, discovered that it was not locked. He stepped inside. Someone had turned the air conditioner on high. Jeb felt himself shiver. Angie lay under the covers. She did not bother to sit up. “What do you want?” “We need to talk.” “Why?” Jeb realized he had been too harsh with her. It had been a way of keeping his distance, but it had not been fair. “Because I overreacted.” “By not trusting me or not caring?” “Both.” “Then come here.” She motioned with her hand. He crossed the room and stood beside her. The scent of Euphoria filled his

nostrils. He tried to push away the flood of memories that it evoked. “I think I know how the Russians found you.” “Later.” She lifted the sheet. “Come keep me warm.” Jeb knew he was making a mistake, but he kicked off his shoes and climbed under the sheets. Angie was unencumbered by clothing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. He kissed her neck. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” She unfastened his belt and roughly extracted everything he was wearing. He stared at the dim outline of her face. “You’re even more beautiful than I ed.” She laughed. “And you are the bravest man I’ve ever known.” “Brave?” “Yeah. Papà would kill you if he knew you were here in my bed.” Jeb realized that rogue hormones had possessed his mind, but it was too late to turn back. Cristina was alive. She had come back for him. He pushed aside the lost decade of his life. He didn’t care why she had left or why she had returned. She was back in his arms, and that was all that mattered. He tasted the tears that rolled down her face. “Then I would die happy.” She clung to him as if nothing mattered except fusing his body into hers. Her voice quivered. “Don’t ever let me go again.” He heard the hum of a motorboat, but his focus remained elsewhere as she pulled him home.

CHAPTER 29

Angie lay on her back in the wet spot on the sheets. Her arm grew numb, and her leg threatened to cramp. Jeb lay atop her with his face on her chest. She could feel his warm breath blowing across her breast. The weight of his torso forced her to work at breathing, but she did not consider making him move. He slept soundly, as if he had not a care in the world. She knew that she should never have brought him back into her world. This was not the life that he wanted or deserved. Soon she would have to send him away, but for the moment, she wanted to enjoy feeling his body pressed against her. She opened her eyes and looked at him, taking in the changes that time and a war had brought. He had gained perhaps ten pounds, but he carried it well. He was no longer a boy. His features had hardened a bit, but not too much. She ran her hand over his back, feeling scars that had not existed when he last shared her bed. She wondered how they got there and why he had failed to tell her about them. The whir of a motorboat returned and then stopped. Angie thought she could hear commotion outside. Instinct warned her to check it out, but Raul had set guards around the perimeter of the island, and she did not want to give Jeb an excuse to retire to his room. She rested her fingers in his hair and tried to go to sleep.

Gunshots reverberated through the house. Angie sat up so fast that Jeb almost landed on the floor. She reached for her robe. The door slammed open. Raul stormed into the room. He jerked the robe out of her hand and waved a Glock in the air. “Whore!” Angie saw the hatred in his face. It had always been there, but now it projected unfiltered. What is he doing? Why does he care whom I sleep with? Jeb jumped out of the bed and thrust his naked body between Angie and her

stepbrother. Raul swung the gun toward his testicles. “Say goodbye to the jewels, Jerk Off.” Angie pulled the sheet over her chest and stepped from behind Jeb. She didn’t think Raul would shoot him, but his expression said otherwise. She yelled the only thing that might convince Raul that Jeb had not disgraced the family. “We’re getting married.” Jeb looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Raul shook his head. “No, you’re not. You’re going to hell, just like your Papà and this wuss.” Angie caught her breath. It can’t be true. He’s not that evil. “What have you done?” “Meet the new head of the family.” “Where’s Papà?” “I told you. He’s in hell.” He cocked the pistol. “Now drop the sheet.” She tightened her grip on the linen. “Leave us alone, you pervert.” Gunshots rang out in the hall. Alessi charged into the room. “What the hell are you doing?” Raul swung the Glock toward Donato’s most trusted lieutenant. “What I should have done years ago.” He pulled the trigger. Alessi clutched his chest and staggered forward. Raul fired again. Jeb grabbed his arm. Raul jerked free and swung the weapon toward Jeb. Angie lunged toward her dresser and wrapped her hand around the iron dolphin. Alessi crashed into Raul, wrapping his arms around him. Raul put a bullet into his gut. Alessi fell backwards. Angie swung the trophy. It collided with Raul’s head. He dropped the pistol and collapsed on top of Alessi’s corpse. Angie stared at her stepbrother. Blood flowed from the fresh laceration on his scalp. Her fingers relaxed, and the dolphin crashed to the floor.

She knelt beside Raul. He was alive, but his breathing was shallow. Jeb picked up the handgun and pulled her to her feet. “We have to get out of here.” “But he’s dying.” “That’s a good thing. Let’s go.” Angie peered out the doorway. The pretty nurse lay dead in a pool of blood outside Donato’s door. A man with an Uzi in his hands stepped over the body. She recognized him from the airport. Kirill fired a volley toward the bedroom. Jeb slammed the door, locked it, and pointed at the window. “Go!” Bullets splinted the doorframe. Angie threw open the window and crawled onto the decking. Jeb followed. They ran toward the dock. Gunfire burst from the window. Angie and Jeb flew around the corner of the house. She slipped on a pool of fresh blood and landed on top of “Barbie.” A deep gash fileted open the girl’s throat. She made no response to the impact of Angie’s body. Her eyes lay open with huge black pupils that no longer filtered any light. Angie screamed and rolled to the side. Jeb pulled her to her feet. They rushed onto the dock. Two men stood guarding a motorboat. For a moment, they remained transfixed, staring at the nude couple. Then they raised their assault weapons. Jeb fired Raul’s pistol. He missed both targets but hit the boat motor. It exploded in a ball of fire that ignited the dock and engulfed both men. Angie grabbed his hand, and ran through the flames. Reaching the end of the dock, they dove into Biscayne Bay.

Jeb tried to keep up with Angie as they swam toward Key Biscayne, but his breath was short, and his recent bullet wound and surgery limited his strength. He dropped the pistol and let it sink to the bottom of the bay. Pain in his healing wound made using his left arm difficult, so he improvised with a sidestroke. He worried about what to do when they reached shore with no clothes, but the tide solved that dilemma. It dragged them back toward Donato’s island. Blood dripped from his incision. He had heard somewhere that sharks can smell blood

from over a mile away. He wondered if it was true. The current carried them onto a tiny sandbar. Jeb collapsed on the wet sand and surrendered to the fatigue. Angie sat beside him. She waited until he caught his breath before asking, “Do you think Papà is dead?” Jeb gripped her hand. She may have hidden from her father for almost a decade, but he knew that she shared a bond with Donato that even she did not understand. “That’s what Raul said. He had no reason to lie.” “Why do you think he did it?” “Greed. He wanted it all. He thought he could take over your father’s operation.” “But Papà gave him everything.” Jeb recalled the reason he had gone to Angie’s room. “Did your father tell him about the two phone calls from Lenny?” “I believe so. Why?” “I think Raul ed the information to the Russians. That’s the reason that Lenny is dead and that they found us in Durham.” “Papà told me he didn’t know I was in prison. Do you think it was Raul who killed those people to get me out?” “Yeah. He couldn’t get to you in prison so he got you released.” “Why did he hate me so much? I tried to be nice to him.” Jeb thought of the violence that surrounded this woman and wondered how he had failed to pick up even a glimmer of it in the college year she had shared with him. She was like a chameleon, shifting from one personality to another to adapt to the forces that tried to crush her. “I think he wanted more. He didn’t take rejection well.” “Maybe, but why would he kill Papà? Papà gave him everything. He treated him like his own son.”

“Until you came back. Raul must have learned that you father was giving you the shipping business. He didn’t want to share.” “I never liked him. He was creepy as a kid and scary when he got older.” “Well, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him anymore.” She turned her attention to the flashing lights of police and rescue boats as they swarmed around her house. “There’s plenty more to worry about. My fingerprints are on that dolphin. The police are going to think I killed Raul, and the Russians aren’t going to be happy until we are both dead.” She shivered. Jeb pulled himself to a seated position and wrapped his arm around her. She leaned into him and said, “What are we going to do?” “I don’t know, but we’ll do it together.”

The sky showed the first pink light of dawn as the last boat left the island. Angie wasn’t sure she wanted to go back, but there was no other option since neither she nor Jeb had any clothes. She nodded to him and slipped back into the water. Swimming was easy with the current, and they reached her dock before the sun cleared the horizon. Jeb lifted the police tape, and they stepped into the house. The sick odor of feces and blood hung in the air. Chalk marked where bodies had fallen, and the carpet felt sticky and wet on bare feet. Angie walked first to Papà’s room. Raul had said that Papà was dead, but he could have been lying. The dresser lay on its side on the floor beside the IV pole and the empty IV bag. Stains covered the rug, and the window curtain hung at a grotesque angle. Angie ignored the mess. Her gaze froze on the bed. Blood soaked through the sheets. There was no doubt whose blood it was. More brown blotches covered the wall beside the bed. Angie knew that her father could not have survived this assault. She fought back the urge to vomit and rushed out of the room. Bullet holes marred the ceiling and walls of the hallway. Angie stepped over the blood-soiled carpet where the nurse had fallen and turned into her room. She stared at the caulk outline of Alessi’s body. There were no marks where Raul had fallen. Can he be alive? He’ll come after us. He won’t rest until Jeb is dead, and God only knows what he’ll do to me.

She went to her dresser, opened a drawer, and removed a t-shirt, Bermuda shorts, panties, and Victoria Secret bra. Jeb retrieved his flowered Hawaii-style shirt, shorts, and underwear from the floor. After they had both dressed, she led Jeb through every room. He found the antibiotics and oxycodone in his room. He swallowed one of each and stuffed the bottles into a pocket. They reached Donato’s study last. Angie walked to the desk and pressed the button to open the hidden room. A second button turned on a light. She entered the room and pressed on the corner of a wooden plank that she had failed to show to Jeb on his first visit to the room. A opened, revealing a hidden wall safe. Angie punched in the combination, and the door opened. “Good,” she said. “They didn’t find it.” She knew that Raul would have taken everything there if he could. He may be alive, but he didn’t walk out of here. He’s in a hospital somewhere. She removed a sealed envelope, $200,000 cash, a thirty-eight-caliber pistol with two full clips, and two fake ports. One of the ports displayed her face and the name Elaine Teodora Russo. The other held her brother’s picture but with the name James William Russo. She showed them to Jeb. “Papà must have gotten these just in case Lenny or I came back. You look enough like Lenny to . We’ll hang on to these just in case.” Jeb frowned but said nothing. She stuffed her acquisitions into her father’s briefcase and closed the door to the safe. “Let’s go.” Jeb followed her onto the dock. The explosion had destroyed Donato’s boat, but not an inflatable dinghy in the boathouse. They inflated it, inserted the oars into the appropriate slots, and lifted it into the water.

Jeb sat in the front of the boat, looking back toward Angie as she rowed against the current. Her small frame and feminine physique belied her remarkable stamina. He wished he could help her, but if the pain around his chest incision increased anymore, he would be unable to continue. At least the bleeding had not resumed.

The sun rose high in the sky, and its hot rays sapped what little strength he had managed to muster. Dizziness swept over him. He dropped his head between his legs and waited for it to clear. Angie rowed harder. “Hang in there, Jeb. The tide has turned. We’ll be there soon.” “Good.” He should have asked where, but the effort consumed too much energy. His thoughts focused on water. It would have been so easy to toss several bottles of Perrier into the boat. Where was my mind? The arrival of dark clouds and a strong breeze brought some relief from the heat, but Jeb felt no improvement. In fact, his head ached, and his stomach churned, particularly when yachts ed with wakes that almost overturned the little boat. He looked past Angie and saw a large yacht approaching and wondered if he could keep from hurling. To his relief, it slowed to a crawl. “At least everybody isn’t a jerk,” he said. The vessel then turned toward them. Angie stopped rowing and pulled the pistol from the briefcase, keeping it concealed behind her leg. She handed the spare clip to Jeb. “Be ready to hand me this if I run out of bullets.” Jeb stared at the approaching craft. “It’s just tourists.” “Maybe. We’ll know in a minute.” Jeb wondered how she could appear calm when they might be dead in less than a minute. The boat pulled beside them. A young man wearing a bathing suit and a sailor hat leaned over the railing. “You guys all right?” Angie flashed a brilliant smile and waved. “Yeah. We’re just getting some exercise.” “Your buddy doesn’t look so good. Can I give you a lift somewhere?” Two girls in bikinis ed the man at the rail. One of them hollered, “Come on up. We’re having a party.”

Jeb almost broke out in a cheer. Angie shook her head. “We’re fine. Thanks, anyway.” The guy shrugged. “OK, but you better hurry. A storm’s blowing in.” Jeb waved a hand in the air. “You got any water?” “Better than that.” He stepped out of sight, returning in less than a minute with a six-pack of Budweiser. He tossed it to Jeb. “Have at it.” Jeb would have preferred to climb aboard, but he thanked the boatman and watched him drive away. “Aren’t you tired of rowing?” “We can’t trust anybody, Jeb. Even if those people are just being friendly, they could leak our whereabouts to someone who isn’t.” Jeb would have gladly taken the chance—anything to get out of the sun and to assume a supine position. “At least we have something to drink. I’m parched.” Angie tossed the beer into the channel. “That will make you even sicker than you feel now. We aren’t far—less than a half hour.” This time Jeb succumbed to curiosity. “Where are we going?” Angie pointed to a private dock that extended into the bay. “The Richardson home.” Jeb looked at the exquisite, two-story, colonial house. “That must have cost a bundle. Who are the Richardsons?” “Their daughter was a friend in high school.” “And you think she’ll be there now?” “Nobody will. It’s a winter home. They should be in New Hampshire for the summer.” “You’re going to break in?” She shrugged. “Do you have a better idea?”

“We could go to the police.” “I told you Papà had several judges and a number of cops on the take. Raul controls them now.” “We don’t know that he’s alive.” “We have to assume he is until we hear otherwise.”

CHAPTER 30

Angie steered the dinghy against the edge of the dock. Jeb reached for one of the pilings and held the craft steady while she set the briefcase onto the wooden planks and climbed onto them. She lay on her stomach and held the boat while he climbed onto the dock. Then she removed the stopper from the rubber sleeve. Air hissed out as the boat drifted away. Soon it dropped beneath the surface of the water. Jeb looked at the docks in both directions. The only occupant was a German shepherd pacing on the walkway beside a boat house fifty feet away. The dog lifted his head, sniffed the air, and barked. Angie took Jeb’s hand and ran across the huge lawn. Jeb was grateful for the tall hedges that sheltered it from the neighboring yards. The canine sentinel fell silent as soon as they disappeared from sight. Jeb followed Angie around the mansion and up the front stairs. She rang the bell three times, waited, and rang it again. When no one answered, she returned to the backyard and pointed to a large chunk of coquina beside the back stairs. “We’ll need that.” Jeb already felt dazed from too much sun and too little water. He knew he was on the verge of heat exhaustion. He wanted to go inside, have something to drink, and get supine in an air-conditioned room. He just didn’t care to destroy his law career with a breaking and entering conviction. Why couldn’t they have been home? I don’t want to do this. He stared at the soft, white rock like it was a block of cocaine. His body swayed, and he thought he would faint, but his equilibrium returned, and he stooped to pick up the limestone and carried it up the stairs. Angie took it from him and smashed the glass window in the back door. A loud alarm blared from the house. She tossed the coquina onto the grass. “Let’s get out of here.” Jeb ran after Angie. They reached the street and sprinted to the next block before

Jeb became too dizzy to stand. He collapsed in front of a two-story brick house with thick, white columns that ed the roof over its front porch. Angie sat beside him on the grass. “We can’t stay here. Someone will call the police.” Jeb lay on his back, taking deep breaths. He was too winded to answer. Less than five minutes ed before the wail of a police siren reached his ears. He dragged himself to his feet and let Angie steer him up the driveway and behind a hedge. The blue and white car flew past them, racing in the direction of the Richardson’s house. As soon as it disappeared from view, Angie led Jeb back to the sidewalk. He stumbled after her down a side street. The heat and humidity magnified his fatigue, but Angie showed no inclination to stop or to seek shade from the sun. His headache grew worse, and the nausea returned. Sweat soaked his shirt. He leaned on Angie to keep from falling and kept walking.

Thirty minutes ed before they left the residential area and reached an International House of Pancakes. Jeb embraced the cool air and consumed a large iced tea before ordering the fried egg and pancake combo. Angie looked as tired as he felt, and he wondered how she had managed to keep going. After all, she had done all the rowing. His incision hurt, his muscles ached, and now that he was sitting, his legs felt like they could never again bear his weight. He had no idea where they would go or how they would get there. All he wanted was another glass of tea and a bed. They ate their breakfast in silence, neither of them having the energy or the inclination to talk. Jeb had no plan beyond finding a motel and sleeping for twelve hours. As soon as the waitress left the bill, Angie stood, and held out a hand for Jeb. He grasped it, and she pulled him to his feet. “Come on, big boy. We’ve got places to go.” He had no idea what she meant. The room was spinning, and if she hadn’t held onto his arm, he would have collapsed to the floor. After a minute, his vision

returned to normal, and he followed her to the counter. She left cash at the and led him outside. He scanned the sidewalk for police and mobsters. Seeing none, he said, “What now?” She interlaced her arm with his arm. “Are you ready to meet the rest of my family?” Jeb thought he had seen enough of the family. He wasn’t even sure if she meant kin or business associates of her father. Before he could answer, she flagged a cab. It skidded to a stop, did a U-turn, and pulled beside her. She opened the door and gave the driver an address on North Bayshore Drive. Jeb followed her onto the back seat. “Who lives there?”

The cab pulled away from the curb. Angie leaned against the seat and tried to relax. Everything Jeb learned about my relatives is bad. Papà was a gangster, and Raul is a pervert and a murderer. My own resume is not much better: perpetual liar, ex-con, and petty criminal who can’t even break into a house without setting off the alarm. I wish he could have met Lenny. He was the one who stood up to Papà and Raul—who managed to escape from it all. At least he thought he had until he was dead. Jeb slumped against the door and looked like he would collapse from exhaustion, but he kept his eyes open, looking at her as if unsure who she was and what she would do next. She squeezed his hand. “My Aunt Dafne has a home near here. We’re going there.” “He took a deep breath and released it before responding. “I didn’t know you had an aunt.” “She’s Papà’s sister. A few days after my mother died, we came to Miami and moved in with us. She cooked and cleaned house and watched after Lenny and me—sort of a combination of nanny and surrogate mother.” “How come you never mentioned her?” “She left when Papà remarried.”

“Why?” “Matilde made it clear she was no longer welcome. She wouldn’t even let her visit.” “Your stepmother sounds like a real charmer.” “She would have done the same to Lenny and me if Papà had agreed. She wanted him all to herself.” “No wonder you left. “You have no idea.” “Does she have an alarm system?” It bothered Angie that Jeb thought she would break into her own aunt’s home, but his impression was accurate. If Dafne was not there, they had nowhere else to hide. “I hope she’ll be home.” He raised one eyebrow. “How long has it been since you’ve seen her?” “Yesterday. She was at the funeral.” His eyes widened. She wondered why she hadn’t told him. So much had happened in the past few days. It would take weeks to fill him in. He moved on to a more pressing question. “Do you think Dafne carries a grudge? Will she want to see you? “I don’t know. She didn’t speak to Papà at the funeral.” The cab turned onto North Bayshore Drive. Between the houses, she could see the bay. Tall palm trees and elegant homes confirmed the fact that they had entered an exclusive area. Angie pointed to a two-story, brick house with five columns ing the roof over the front porch. “There’s where she lives.”

Jeb stared at the colonial style structure surrounded by oleander trees. It could have been a prop for a scene in Gone with the Wind. “It looks like Aunt Dafne has managed to stay off the welfare rolls.”

Angie followed him out of the cab. “She does OK.” She paid the driver, hurried up the front steps, and rang the bell. Jeb peeked through the beveled glass window into a wide foyer that led to a marble, circular staircase. A gray-haired, mildly obese woman who appeared in her sixties traversed the entryway and opened the door. Her gaze locked on Angie. Her mouth fell open. She spoke in a whisper. “Angie?” She gripped her arm. “Hurry. Get inside before someone sees you.” Jeb followed Angie into the room. Dafne gave him a questioning glance before wrapping her arms around her niece. “I heard what happened. How did you get away?” Angie nodded toward Jeb. “This is my friend Jeb. He helped me to escape.” Dafne shook hands with Jeb. “Thanks for saving my Angie.” Jeb reframed from mentioning his demotion from fiancé. “We help each other.” She laughed. “I assumed as much. Angie has never brought a boy here before.” She looked back and forth between her guests. “You two look exhausted. Let’s go to the kitchen. You can sit down, have a glass of wine, and relax.” Jeb could have hugged her. His legs shook from fatigue, and he was on the verge of collapse.

Angie welcomed the opportunity to sit down too. She took Jeb’s arm and led him through a doorway to the round maple table next to the stove. “Do you have any Gatorade? We’ve been in the sun all morning.” Dafne opened the refrigerator. “You’re in luck. I hope you like green.” She filled glasses with ice and brought the drinks along with a Chianti wine for herself to the table. “You ready to talk to me?” Angie glanced at Jeb, who sat back slurping his drink. He looked as curious as Dafne to hear her interpretation of what had transpired. He expects me to lie. He knows I’m an awful person. Why did I bring him into this mess? He was better

off thinking I was dead. They’ll kill him just like they killed Papà and Lenny, and it’s all my fault. I should never have left New Orleans. Tears slid down her cheeks. She reached across the table to take Dafne’s hand. “They murdered Papà.” Dafne squeezed Angie’s fingers. “I know. It was on TV this morning. They said that you did it.” “What?” She pulled away from Dafne. “Raul told the police that you killed Donato and tried to kill him.” “So he’s alive?” “Yes. He’s at Mercy Hospital with a concussion.” “And you believe him?” “Of course not.” “Good, because Raul did it.” Dafne lifted her head and stared at her with narrowed eyes. “He hit himself in the head hard enough to get a concussion?” Angie wondered if coming here had been a mistake. “No. He tried to rape me after he killed Papà. I gave him the concussion.” “Holy mother of Jesus. I always thought there was something wrong with that boy.” “It wasn’t the first time. Lenny stopped him when I was in high school. That’s why I left.” “Oh, you poor child. Why didn’t you tell me?” It was a path she had considered, but Matilde ruled supreme at that time. “It seemed safer just to leave.” Dafne gulped her wine. “How did the Colombians get involved?”

“What?” “The commentators say you led the Colombians to the island last night.” Angie deduced that Jeb had been right. She should have gone to the police. Now her brother had fed them so much misinformation that she was the prime suspect for her own father’s murder. “Raul led the raid, and it wasn’t the Colombians. He brought the Russians.” “Why?” “Power. He must have promised them a share of the smuggling trade. He’s head of the family now.” Dafne leaned forward in her chair, bringing her face close to Angie. “When Raul gets out of Mercy, he’ll come looking for you.” Angie folded her arms across each other on the table and shrugged. “I know.” Dafne lifted her glass to her lips. Her hand shook, and wine spilled on the placemat. She cleaned up the liquid with her napkin. “You can hide here.”

Raul lay in his hospital bed. He did not want to be there. Too much was happening for him to be out of commission for any length of time. He was the new boss, but he had to project strength, or someone would try to muscle him out of that role, leaving him in charge of nothing except the interior of a coffin. His head hurt like hell, and moving it exacerbated the pain. The doc had said he had a concussion and would need to stay in the hospital another day. He wasn’t sure what Angie had hit him with, but it had been hard. He flashed back on her expression when he had jerked the robe out of her hand. He liked his women to have spirit, and she was a fighter. That would make breaking her so much more fun. Seeing her naked had taken him by surprise. The girls he knew all shaved their bump, but hers was untouched. The image stuck in his mind. It was hard to think of anything else.

The door to his room opened. He looked up, expecting to see his nurse, but a tall, thin man with slicked-down, black hair and brown eyes entered. Sabas Ramirez commanded attention. Without saying a word, he had a way of making a man aware of his mortality, just by the intensity of his stare. As leader of the Hispanic mob, he had the power to end a life with the snap of a finger. He ignored the chair by the bed and stood hovering over Raul. “You wanted to meet.” Raul propped himself on a pillow, but he still had to look up to meet his enemy’s gaze. “Yes. Donato is dead, and I’ve taken over our operation. I need your help with a small matter.” Sabas lit a cigarette and looked at Raul as if he had lost his mind. “Why should I help you with anything?” Raul almost reminded him that smoking was not allowed but thought better of it. “Because you and I are going to be partners.” “I’m doing just fine by myself.” He inhaled and expelled the smoke in a chain of small rings. His lack of enthusiasm forced Raul to lay his cards on the table. “Donato was afraid to deal with drugs, but I’m not. You wanted to use our ships for smuggling cocaine and heroin. I’m ready to provide that service if we can work out acceptable financial .” “The word on the street is you made Vlad the same offer.” Raul wondered how he could have discovered that fact. No one knew except for Marat and his father. “I did, and if the three of us work together, we’ll be so big that no one will dare infringe on our territory.” “Let’s arrange a meeting. I’m glad you’re not pig-headed like your father was.” “He married my mother, but he was no father.” Sabas raised one eyebrow and appeared to have been unaware of any animosity between Raul and Donato. “What’s this little favor you need?” “I want you to find my sister Angie.”

“And do what with her?” “Just bring her to me. We have a score to settle.” He thought of that puff of hair between her legs and felt his body respond. “How are we supposed to find her?” “I have a good idea where she may be hiding.”

CHAPTER 31

Angie took Jeb upstairs to the first guest bedroom off a long hallway. She hid the briefcase in the closet and directed Jeb to the old-fashioned bed with a frilly canopy. He took off his shoes and collapsed on top of the sheets. She returned downstairs to Dafne in the living room. “He’s already asleep.” Dafne poured two glasses of Biondi-Santi Brunello di Montalcino wine and handed one of them to Angie. “Good. He looked like he was about to out.” “I don’t know why he didn’t. Kirill shot him in the chest last week. He had surgery at Duke to remove the bullet, and you wouldn’t believe what he went through during the last twenty-four hours.” Dafne sat on the couch and patted the cushion for Angie to sit beside her. “Tell me about him. I can see that he’s more than just a friend.” Angie sat and sipped her wine. “Jeb and I would have married years ago if I hadn’t been a freak. He’s an honest, God-fearing man who lives under the illusion that life is fair and that good always trumps evil. There’s no place for anyone like that in this family.” “That’s not true. Your mother was a saint.” “My point exactly. Look what happened to her.” Dafne took a long time answering. “Do you love him?” “It doesn’t matter how I feel about him. Since I went back to him a week ago, his house has burned down, his best friend has been murdered, and he’s been shot and has come close to dying several times. He deserves better than that.” “I take that as a yes.” “I just don’t want to get him killed. Tomorrow we’re going to put him on a bus to somewhere far away.”

“Does he know that?” “No.” “I saw the way he looks at you. He’s not going anywhere.” “He will if I promise to him in a few days.” “You shouldn’t lie to him.” Angie held up her glass for a refill. “I’ve told him so many lies that I’m not sure what’s the truth myself anymore.”

Soreness in the incision pulled Jeb awake late in the afternoon. Angie was not on the bed beside him. He ed her coming to the room with him but nothing after that. Her absence bothered him. He knew she was capable of disappearing and never coming back. He forced himself upright, waited for the ensuing dizziness to clear, and climbed out of the bed. He sniffed his armpit and decided that a shower was in order. The cool water felt good on his sun-touched skin. He redressed and checked his pocket for his antibiotics and pain pills. He took one of each and then walked down the hall, checking each room for Angie. She lay on her back on top of the comforter on a frilly canopy bed in the third room. He watched her breath in and out, and wondered how different his life could have been if she had stayed with him in Chapel Hill all those years ago. Her hands rested on a pink pillow. Blisters lined her fingers from hours of rowing. She had never once complained. He felt like an ass for letting her do all the work. Jeb walked down the stairs and followed the scent of chocolate into the kitchen. Dafne stood beside the oven with the door open. Using a heavy glove, she removed a hot, metal pan and set it on the stovetop. “You’re just in time.” She used a spatula to transfer the chocolate chip cookies to a plate and set it on the table. Jeb picked up two of them and took a bite. “Are you married? Because if you aren’t, I may be about to propose.”

She laughed. “Are you trying to get Angie and me into a cat fight?” “She’d understand if she tasted one of these.” Dafne turned off the oven, filled two glasses with iced tea, and set them on the table. She sat across from Jeb. “What’s between you and Angie? Are you going steady?” He smiled at her dated terminology. “Maybe. I’m not sure.” She laughed. “I see nothing has changed since she was a teenager.” Jeb wasn’t sure what she meant. When she made no effort to clarify herself, he asked, “Did she have lots of boyfriends?” “Oh yes. Boys visited the island all the time, but she never flipped over any of them, at least not while I was living there, although she and Raul hung out together quite a bit once Donato and Matilde started dating.” “Wasn’t he a little old for her?” “He was sixteen when she was thirteen, but at that age, girls are looking for excitement. He provided plenty of that.” Jeb did not like the direction that Dafne was taking the conversation. “What kind of excitement?” “You know. Nothing too serious. He liked to pick pockets, and she was a quick learner.” “That doesn’t sound like the Angie I know.” “It was just a phase she went through. I was glad when she realized what a jerk he was and quit having anything to do with him.” Jeb did not like hearing about Raul, but he wanted to know more about Angie— things that were real—that she had not made up. “What else did she like to do?” Dafne glanced out the window toward the tall oak in the backyard. “Donato used to take the kids to the gun range. Lenny always carried a book, but Angie loved

to play with guns. She could outshoot her dad by the time she was fourteen.” “He must have been proud.” “He was.” She waited for him to finish his tea and then showed him a grocery list. “I wrote this out while you were asleep. Would you mind making a run to Publix? I wasn’t expecting company, and there’s not much in the pantry.” Jeb did not like the idea of leaving Angie. His gut told him not to let her out of his sight. He knew he was being paranoid, but he did not want her to disappear again. “Why don’t we wait until Angie wakes up? We can go together.” Dafne shoved the paper and a fifty-dollar bill into his hand. “I want to surprise her with her favorite coconut pie. You can take my car.” She gave him the keys and directions to the mall. He thought of Raul’s friends who might be out there looking for him and climbed the stairs to his room to retrieve the pistol and $500 cash from the briefcase. He shoved the weapon into his belt beneath his shirt and hurried past Dafne to the side door. He found a huge old Lincoln that had been built in a time when size and comfort were valued over fuel economy. He secured the weapon in the oversized glove box and cranked the motor. It started on the fourth try. He pulled out of the driveway and followed the instructions toward the mall.

Angie lay on her bed, half-unconscious and half-awake and totally exhausted. She wondered what time it was and if Jeb had awakened yet. She hoped not. He needed the rest. Another hour in the sun, and he would have ended up in the emergency room. I wonder what he thinks about me now. Is he convinced I come from a psychotic gene pool? At least Raul isn’t a blood relative, and Dafne is nice. She forced such thoughts from her mind and drifted back to sleep. The bright sunshine flowing through the window grew dim, and she dreamed of being back in Spanish class at Carolina. A boy took the seat beside her. He looked like Jeb. The crash of shattering glass thrust her awake. She bolted out of bed and ran to the front bedroom. Jeb was not there. Loud voices came from downstairs. One of

them belonged to Dafne. It came loud and high-pitched. “She’s not here.” A thud. Something smashed on the floor. Then a gunshot and a scream. Angie ran back to her room. She locked the door. The window was shut. She threw it open, jumped onto the sill, and reached for the edge of the roof. Gunfire erupted again. The door splinted open. Angie swung away from the window and clawed her way onto the roof. A hand swiped her foot. She jerked away and darted across the hard, clay surface. A man yelled, “Stop!” Angie ran faster. A pistol fired. Bullets splintered the slabs at her bare feet. She jumped to the roof over the garage. Tiles shattered. Her body slid down the steep slope. Her fingers groped for anything solid to stop her descent. They came up empty. She plunged to the ground. Her legs buckled, and she tumbled in the soft dirt. Pain shot through her thigh. She groaned and pulled herself upright. More gunfire came from the roof. The grass splattered at her feet. She ran toward the woods. A huge man with a club in his hand stepped from behind a tree. Angie stopped too slowly to avoid his blow. It struck her across the chest. The pistol fired again.

CHAPTER 32

Jeb reached the mall without difficulty. He parked and hurried into Marshals. Ladies shopping for bargains packed the department store. The men’s department was not crowded. He found pants and a shirt his size, paid for them, and changed in the car. Publix proved to be a challenge. Dafne’s list included twenty items that were scattered throughout the store. He assumed that Angie and he would be staying with her for at least a week, so he expanded his mission to include peanut butter, crackers, trail mix, and almonds. Five people stood in line at the checkout, and all had discount coupons that prolonged the process. He had not wanted to leave Angie, and the longer he waited, the more worried he became. When his turn eventually came, he paid with cash and rushed to the car with eight plastic bags in his arms. The Lincoln cranked on the first try. He raced out of the lot and pushed the accelerator to the floor. A police car with lights flashing and siren blaring pulled behind him. He had no driver’s license, and for all he knew, with his involvement in the airplane crash, the fire, and the killings of men in North Carolina and Miami, he could be on the FBIs most wanted list. His first impulse was to try to outrun the cop, but the old Lincoln shimmied at 50 mph and would have been no match for a new Camaro. He pulled to the curb. The Chevy zoomed past him without slowing. He waited until it was out of sight and wondered what was so pressing that it took precedence over his obvious speeding. Lady luck seemed to be watching over him until a second police car roared past him a block from Dafne’s house. This time he did not slow. He felt sure he knew where it was going. The house came into view. An ambulance blocked the driveway, and two police cars stood on the lawn. Jeb stopped at the curb by a neighbor’s house just as two medics carried a stretcher down the porch stairs and rolled it to the ambulance. He could not see their patient’s face, but blood soaked through the sheets and dripped onto the walkway. Angie!

The emergency vehicle sped away. He followed.

Jeb left the Lincoln on the second floor of the visitor’s parking garage and ran across the lot to the emergency room. The hospital guard blocked him from entering the patient area. He stood in line to speak with the receptionist. She was a middle-aged, overweight, and over-stressed woman who appeared overwhelmed by the volume of patients and their anxious relatives. When Jeb asked about the woman who had arrived in the ambulance, she said, “Which one?” It quickly became obvious that she did not know anything, and if she did, she would abide by HIPA requirements to tell no one anything without written permission from the patient. Jeb took a seat and waited, hoping that the doctor would want to talk to a relative. That supposition proved correct after thirty minutes when a short Hispanic man with black hair, a thick accent, and a blood-stained white coat asked if anyone was with Ms. Laudicino. Jeb raised his hand. The man crossed the room and extended his hand. “I’m Doctor Hernandez. She’s bleeding into her abdomen. I’m taking her to the operating room.” Jeb had seen the blood and knew that the injury was serious, but the physician’s expression made him shiver. He stood, shook the man’s hand, and tried to keep the tremor from his voice. “Is she going to make it?” “I don’t know. The bullet ed through her abdomen, and she’s in shock. I won’t know how much damage it did until I open her up. Is she allergic to anything?” “I don’t know.” The doctor sighed, obviously aware that he was wasting precious time. “I’ll look for you here when we get out of surgery.” He strode to the door in two steps and disappeared through it. Jeb slumped into his chair and waited. The television droned on with some silly comedy until the eleven o’clock news reported on the shooting in Miami Shores.

Neighbors called 9-1-1 after hearing gunshots. The police found sixty-five-year old Dafne Laudicino bleeding from a gunshot wound to the abdomen. The perpetrators escaped in a black van. Dafne had been alone in her house. Jeb stared at the screen long after the announcer segued to the seafood festival at Coral Gables. Dafne’s in the operating room. Not Angie. Where is she? What have they done to her? Is she dead? Why didn’t she follow the stretcher out the door? Why is she not here checking on her aunt? Jeb wanted to go back to the house, but cops were swarming around it, and he knew that they would arrest him. I can’t do anything for Angie from a jail cell. I’ll have to wait for Dafne. She can tell me what happened—if she survives the surgery.

The other visitors trickled out of the waiting area. Another hour ed until Doctor Hernandez pushed through the door. He wore green scrubs, and fatigue marked his face. “We’re done.” Jeb stood to face him. He could tell from his expression that Dafne had survived. He looked tired but didn’t have that guarded tone to his voice that plagued the bearer of grim news. “Where is she?” “Intensive care. You can see her in an hour.” “How bad was it?” He placed a hand on Jeb’s shoulder. “Bad. The bullet went through her liver.” He explained that he had removed a chunk of that vital organ and had struggled to stop the bleeding. She was stable for the moment but still losing some blood. The next few hours would determine if she would survive. He left, leaving Jeb to wonder what he had meant. Was she dying, or would she come through? Jeb walked to the television and skimmed through the channels. There was no further news about the shooting. He returned to his seat and waited. The door opened, and Jeb looked up expecting to see the nurse. A policeman stepped into the room. He was a big man with dark hair, wearing a blue uniform

and polished boots. He walked straight to Jeb. “Are you the man with Mrs. Laudicino?” Jeb was not accustomed to lying to cops, but he knew better than to tell the truth. He had no idea what Raul had told them about him and he did not want to find out firsthand. “No. There was a young man here, but he left after the doctor talked to him a few minutes ago. He took his backpack with him. I don’t think he’s coming back.” He pulled a pad from his back pocket and a pen from his shirt. “What did he look like?” “White—about five-nine—in his twenties. He had a blue and red backpack.” The officer squinted at him. “What’s your name?” “Billy Jones.” “You got any I.D. “Sorry. My brother cut himself with an electric saw. I rushed out here so fast that I forgot my wallet.” The man’s stare hardened. “What’s his name?” “Jack.” “Did he have surgery?” “No. They’re watching him though.” He stuck the pen back in his pocket. “I hope he does OK.” Jeb watched him march out the door. Prudence told him to do the same. What if he comes back? What if he checks out my story? What if he discovers who I am? He discarded that option. I have to talk to Dafne. She will know what happened to Angie.

A nurse wearing O.R. scrubs came for Jeb at two a.m. She seemed young, but her eyes were red, and her shoulders slumped from fatigue. Jeb deduced she was working the second end of a double shift. Her stoic expression convinced him that she bore bad tidings. “You can come back now. She’s awake, but you shouldn’t stay long. She needs her rest.” “Is she going to be all right?” “I wish I could say yes, but it’s too soon to tell.” She strode through the doorway at a fast pace. Jeb hurried after her down a corridor, through a set of double doors, and past a series of closed curtains into a private room. She stopped and gave Jeb a stern look. “You have five minutes.” She pulled the curtain shut. Dafne lay in a bed with her legs elevated thirty degrees. A mask for oxygen covered her face, and a tube protruded from her nose. Blood dripped into IV tubing that ed beneath her collarbone. A monitor sat on a shelf above her head, displaying a fast heart rhythm and a blood pressure of 90/60. The dressing over her abdomen was stained red. She appeared to be unconscious, but when Jeb called her name, she opened her eyes and attempted a smile. “Bet you’re glad you went for groceries.” Her voice was faint but clear. “I feel like a jerk. I took Angie’s pistol.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “It wouldn’t have helped. There were four of them. They had assault weapons.” “What did they do to Angie?” “I don’t know. They shot me and ran upstairs. I heard gunshots.” “Was Marat Sokolov with them?” “No. They spoke Spanish.” “Are you sure?” She stared at him as if he had lost his mind. “I live in Miami. I know Spanish when I hear it.”

“But why?” “Obviously they thought Angie would take over her father’s business.” “But she wants no part of it.” “Are you sure? She was a natural—smart, tough, and she knew the ropes.” “But she’s a girl.” Dafne shook her head. “It’s a moot point. She’s dead now.” “I thought you didn’t see what happened.” “I heard the gunshots. There’s no way she got away.” “I think she’s alive. They took her somewhere.” The curtain jerked open. The nurse stood with her hands on her hips. “It’s time.” Jeb had more questions, but he did not want to jeopardize the care that Dafne was getting. He released Dafne’s hand and followed the nurse out of the room.

Jeb left the ICU and took the elevator to the first floor. He walked past the empty reception desk toward the front door. Through the glass, he saw the policeman who had questioned him in the waiting room. He was talking with a night watchman just outside the front doorway. Jeb changed direction and walked down a long hallway toward the side exit. Reaching it, he scanned the street. A dark Escalade was parked at the curb. The windows were tinted, but it looked as if someone was sitting in the driver’s seat. A light flashed, and Jeb recognized it was a cigarette. He turned and followed the hallway past the lobby to the other end of the hospital and exited into the doctor’s parking lot. He walked in darkness to the parking garage where he took the stairwell to the second floor. Just as he reached the Lincoln, the stairwell door opened. A man dressed in dark clothing stepped through it. Jeb kept walking and continued down the driveway

to the first floor. He waited there behind a truck until a car cranked and drove down the ramp and through the exit. Jeb returned to Dafne’s car and drove out of the lot, making a point to avoid ing the Escalade. He had no idea where to go so he cruised to North Bayshore Drive. Dafne’s house was dark with no evidence of activity. A police tape sealed the front entrance. Jeb kept driving. He could not accept Dafne’s belief that Angie was dead, but he had no idea where to look for her. His only clue was the black van so he looked for one. Dafne’s revelation that the kidnappers were Hispanic confused him. He knew that the Russians and Raul’s people wanted to capture or kill her. With Donato dead, there seemed no reason for anyone to be interested in Angie. She was no threat to anyone, and no one would pay a ransom for her. No one except Raul. He coveted her—a sick, perverted, sexual obsession. Jeb hated to think what the man would do. He was now the head of the family, and he had the backing of the Russian mob and apparently the Colombians too. He could afford a huge bounty to satisfy his lust. If this theory was correct, then Angie was alive. Whoever had taken her stood to lose the reward if they damaged the merchandise before delivering it to Raul. Jeb stopped at a pay phone outside a Seven-Eleven and called Mercy Hospital. The operator refused to tell him which room Raul occupied. She would not even confirm that he was there. Jeb returned to his car and drove to the hospital. He arrived at dawn. Positioned near the entrance, he recognized an Escalade that had belonged to Donato. Standing across the street stood two of his former bodyguards. He’s still here.

Jeb found a parking place a block away but still in sight of the SUV. His plan was to watch from the car, but Raul’s men appeared edgy, and the risk of discovery seemed too great. Therefore, he walked into the hospital and found a seat in the lobby where he could watch them through the tinted glass and not be seen.

At eight o’clock, the hospital floral shop opened. Jeb purchased a vase of carnations and carried it to the information window where he spoke with a woman who appeared even younger than he did. “I have flowers for Mr. Raul Laudicino.” “You can’t leave them here.” Jeb smiled. “I know that. What room should I take them to?” She looked in her computer. “He was in 317, but he’s been discharged.” Jeb looked through the window. The Cadillac still stood at the curb. “Could you tell me when that happened?” She shrugged and looked back at the screen. “Ten minutes ago. Someone should wheel him by here in a few minutes. You can give him the flowers then.” “Thanks.” Jeb stepped away, and as soon as she turned her attention to the next visitor, he hurried to the side exit and rushed to his car. Ten minutes later, Raul walked out the front door and climbed into the Escalade. It pulled into the traffic. A second Cadillac SUV with tinted glass pulled onto the street behind it. Jeb tried to keep them in sight and yet maintain at least five cars between himself and them. That was not easy with the heavy traffic, but fortunately the Cadillacs drove straight for I-95 with no unforeseen turns. Jeb followed north on the interstate for ten miles before they turned onto a fourlane road that led to a residential neighborhood. Not wanting to be the only car behind the SUVs, he let them drive out of sight. He waited two minutes and then drove in the direction they had gone. He wove in and out of side streets until he spotted both vehicles parked alongside a red Corvette within the perimeter of a tall iron fence that surrounded a two-story mansion. He circled the block and parked behind a Ford. Through its windows, he watched the house without having to leave his car. An hour ed. Jeb debated sneaking into the yard for a better look, but it seemed unlikely that, if Angie was there, they would keep her in view. This might not be Raul’s only stop. If I leave my car, I will never get back in time to tail him.

CHAPTER 33

Angie lay naked on a four-poster bed, her arms and legs pulled taut by handcuffs that attached to the posts. Her thigh muscles cramped, and she tried to change her position, but the restraints made that impossible. She wanted to scream for help but knew that would only bring another beating by the men who had put her there. She felt thankful that they finally left her alone in the room after hours of taunting. At least no one had raped her. Not yet. She wondered why not. The door flew open, and the answer to that question became clear. Raul walked to the foot of the bed and stared at her pubic hair as if it covered the Holy Grail. “You’ve been a very bad girl, Angie.” She tried to refrain from responding. Anything she said would only incite him, but when he reached out with his hand and touched it, the humiliation was too great to ignore. “You’re a pathetic pervert. How could you kill Papà after all he did for you?” “It’s your fault. You convinced him to cut me off” “You bugged his office?” “That’s right. I heard you manipulating him—persuading him to take away my boats. How was I supposed to make a living?” “Without killing people.” He laughed. “Now what fun would that be? And that raises an interesting question. What am I going to do with you?” He dropped his pants to the floor. Angie stared at his erection and realized what she was going to endure before he killed her. She knew that begging would not alter her fate. Her stepbrother was a sociopath who had fixated on her. Nothing she said or did would alter his obsession. He slipped his hand away from the

Grail and pulled a bag of white powder from his pocket. “We could have made a great team, you and I—like Bonnie and Clyde or Bill and Monica.” She watched him dip his finger into the powder. “What are you doing?” “I got a bad headache, thanks to you. A little coke always helps.” He stuffed it in his nose and inhaled. “That’s better all ready.” He then reached into the bag again and came out with more cocaine. “You seem a little tense. Maybe this will help loosen you up.” He pushed it into her nose. She shook her head, sneezed, and spit on his face. He slapped her. “Bitch!” Angie grew dizzy. Her heart raced, and her head hurt. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop Raul.

The gate opened and the two SUVs drove away. Jeb waited for them to disappear before leaving his position behind the Ford. He then raced for the entrance to the highway, but did not get there in time to see which way they turned. He rushed toward I-95 and turned onto it going south, the direction from which they had come. Speeding with no driver’s license and no car registration and with a pistol in the glove box was not a smart move, but he saw no other option. He pushed the Lincoln to ninety, ignoring the shimmy that resulted as he veered between the lanes, racing past the other cars until the thickness of the traffic forced him to slow to seventy. A quarter of a mile ahead, he spotted the SUVs as they exited toward Key Biscayne. He kept them in sight until they turned toward the marina. Following became a cakewalk. He knew where they were going. He stopped a block from Donato’s slip and parked once again behind another car where he thought no one would notice him. Raul left his Escalade. His gait seemed unsteady. Guido helped him to climb into a boat, and they speed away toward Donato’s island. Jeb surmised that home was not a place where Raul would take Angie. That convinced him that the house with the iron fence was her prison. He hoped that Raul had not hurt her—that she was still alive.

He cranked the motor just as an Oldsmobile sped to a stop behind him. All four of its doors flew open. Jeb had seen what happened to Donato and Dafne. Negotiating with these men was not an option. He threw the gears into reverse and slammed the accelerator. The crash whipped his neck backwards and jolted his body. Pain coursed through his chest wound. He groaned, shifted into drive, turned the wheel, and spun onto the road, dragging his back bumper behind him. In the rear mirror, the Oldsmobile’s hood twisted upward, and smoke rose from beneath it. Four men lay on the pavement behind the open doors. Sparks flew from behind Jeb’s car until the bumper disengaged itself and clattered to the side of the road.

Jeb smelled the faint scent of smoke coming from the car. He put down the windows and kept driving. If Angie was alive, time was running out. He retraced his path back to the house that Raul had visited. The red corvette remained parked behind the iron gates. Otherwise there was no sign of life within the structure. Jeb drove past the building and parked two blocks away. Opening the glove compartment, he removed Angie’s pistol and tucked it under his shirt. He was in no shape to overpower her captors physically. The gun and the element of surprise provided his only chance at success. He hoped that his hypothesis was correct—that Angie was indeed there. If she was not, then he had no idea where to look. He got out of the car and walked. Dark clouds filled the sky, matching his mood. As he drew close to the house, he felt his heart race. He wondered how many thugs he had to face and what weapons they might have. How can I possibly get into the building and overpower them without getting Angie killed. He approached the tall fence that surrounded the building. Climbing over it would be difficult but not impossible. Once he reached the other side, however, he would be trapped. He wondered if this was a crazy mistake. What if Angie is not there? I could be breaking into someone’s home. I might shoot someone who had nothing to do with her. Someone might shoot me. I could go to prison for the rest of my life, and it might be all for nothing.

Calling the police and telling them everything seemed the logical solution, except Jeb had no proof that Angie was there. They would have to get a search warrant, and what judge would grant that based solely on the hunch of a man who was a person of interest in a murder three states away? To make matters worse, Raul had s with the police. By the time anyone came here, Angie would be gone, or worse, dead. The yard did not appear to have a surveillance system, and no guards patrolled it. Jeb walked through a wooded area to the side of the house where an oak tree stood beside the fence. Its low branches should have made climbing it easy, but his recent injury made that far from true. He gritted his teeth and pulled himself onto the first branch. The pain almost caused him to lose consciousness. He waited for it to subside before pulling himself up to the second branch. From there he was able to step onto the fence and to jump into the yard. The collision with the ground knocked the breath out of him. He groaned in pain but crawled to his feet and limped toward the house. He rested against the wall until his breathing grew regular. He then peered into the kitchen window. Two men sat at a table that ed plates of beans and rice, beer bottles, and two Uzi submachine guns. One of the men waved his hands and yelled at his companion, who inhaled on a cigarette and gave his comrade the one-finger salute. A third man held a machine pistol in his hand. Jeb ducked out of view, hoping that they did not see him. He circled the house, looking into every first-story window. Angie was not in any of the rooms. He returned to the kitchen window. The guard with the machine pistol had left the room. Jeb wondered if the man had heard him. His cohorts remained at the table. The man with the cigarette locked eyes with Jeb, grabbed his Uzi, and pointed toward the window. Jeb raised the thirty-eight and fired. The glass window imploded. Bullets burst from the Uzi, piercing the ceiling and sending a rain of plaster to the floor. The gunman stumbled backwards. His cohort seized his own weapon and fired on automatic as he swung it toward Jeb, blasting a trail of holes in the wall. Jeb fired again. The submachine gun dropped to the floor. Its owner stumbled forward and collapsed. Jeb ran to the back door and shot the lock. The door swung open. He ran into the

kitchen. Both men lay on the floor. Neither moved. He crept down the hallway and sprinted up the stairs. Gunfire erupted from the first floor, and bullets split the railing beside him. He reached the second level and dove to the floor. The shooting stopped. He heard a clip slam into place. Heavy feet ascended the stairs. A marble-topped, end table stood beside Jeb. He gripped it with both hands and flung it down the stairs. The machine pistol fired on automatic, and bullets smashed a huge portrait on the wall beside Jeb. The man screamed and crashed against the railing. It gave way, and he fell to the floor. Jeb ran down the stairs. The man groaned and lifted the Uzi. Jeb fired at the center of his chest. He collapsed in a pool of blood. Jeb rushed back to the second level. He kicked open the first door. It led into a bedroom with a standard bed, a dresser and a chest of drawers. He dove to the floor and looked under the bed. Finding no one, he walked to the closet and ripped open the door. The men’s clothes hanging from the rack were inadequate to conceal a human. Jeb hurried back into the hall and approached the second door. A muffled sound reverberated through the wall. He crashed through the door and swung his pistol into the room. Angie lay naked on a brass bed, her wrists and ankles handcuffed to the metal railing. Bruises marred her chest, and abrasions covered her knees and arms. She tried to speak, but a gag muffled her words. Jeb untied it. She nodded toward the door. “The guard has the keys. Jeb rushed downstairs. The sound of a hushed voice came from the kitchen. He crept forward and found the smoker lying on the floor with the telephone handset in one hand and the Uzi in the other. The man opened fire. Bullets slammed into the ing of the door. Jeb jumped backwards. The weapon went silent after four rounds. Jeb assumed the clip was empty and dove through the doorway. The man slapped in a replacement clip. Jeb fired. The Uzi clattered to the floor. The man crumbled. Jeb checked his pulse. He was dead. Someone cursed through the receiver. Jeb recognized Raul’s voice. Pride made him want to answer Raul—to tell him he had lost, but caution prevailed. This was not over. His men could arrive in minutes. I have to get Angie free before they get here.

The keys were not in the man’s pocket. Jeb checked his friend. They were not there either, but the ones to the corvette were. He found the keys to the handcuffs on the corpse in the hall. Jeb raced back to Angie and unlocked the metal constraints. She threw her arms around his neck. “I knew you would come.” He kissed her. “I though I’d lost you for good.” “I guess you’re stuck with me now.” She held to his shoulders and pulled herself upright, stretching the cramped muscles of her legs. “Did he rape you?” “No. He tried, but too much cocaine withered his weeny.” “Thank God for the blessings of snow. “My clothes are in the closet.” He handed them to her. “Hurry.” He checked the remaining rooms while she dressed. Angie ed him at the top of the stairs, and he helped her hobble to the first floor. She confiscated a forty-five from the man at the foot of the steps. “Let’s go.” They left through the front door. Jeb cranked the corvette. Angie fired two bullets into the gate lock and then jumped into the enger seat. They covered less than a block before sirens blared in the distance. Jeb diverted to side streets until they reached the four-lane road. “Where to?” She clicked on her seat belt and hesitated before asking, “Where’s Dafne?” Jeb knew she thought her aunt was dead. He hoped the bleeding had stopped and that Dafne had not ed Donato in the hereafter. “The hospital in Miami Shores.” She released the breath that she had held since posing the question. “Go there.”

To Jeb, that seemed foolish. It would be one of the first places that Raul would check. “Do you think that’s wise?” “No, but she’s my aunt. I almost got her killed.”

CHAPTER 34

Jeb and Angie abandoned the corvette in the parking garage and walked to the hospital. They ed a middle-aged couple, an elderly woman, and two young men. Jeb thought they all looked harmless, but he found himself looking back at all of them to be sure they had not pulled out a cellphone or a pistol. People filled the lobby, and it was impossible to know for sure if any of them presented a threat. Jeb led Angie to the elevators. They ascended to the ICU. Angie called the nursing station from the phone outside the double doors. Dafne’s nurse came to the waiting area. “I’m Jackie,” she said. I’m taking care of your aunt.” Angie introduced herself. “How is she doing?” “Better. The bleeding seems to have stopped. If it stays that way, she should pull through.” “Any complications?” “She was in shock for a while, but not anymore.” “Can we see her?” “Visiting hours don’t start for three hours. You can wait here. There’s coffee in the pot.” “Please. I haven’t seen her since she was shot. It was all my fault, and I’m dying inside.” Jackie’s eyes widened. “How was it your fault?” Jeb wanted to tell Angie to stop talking, but that would have only increased Jackie’s curiosity. All he could do was tap her foot with his shoe. Angie seemed not to get the message. “The people who shot her were after me.”

Jackie placed a consoling hand on her arm. “I guess a few minutes won’t hurt anything. Follow me.”

Dafne lay flat on her back. Her legs were no longer elevated, and an oxygen cannula in her nose had replaced the facemask. Blood drained from another bag into the IV tubing. The monitor on the shelf above the bed beeped in synchrony with her heartbeat, which Jeb thought seemed a little too fast, but not as rapid as when he had left hours earlier. She lifted her head when they entered. “Angie?” Dafne raised her arms and wrapped them around her niece’s neck. Angie kissed her forehead. “I thought they killed you.” Dafne let her head fall back on the pillow. “How did you get away?” “Jeb.” Dafne looked at him with new respect, and then lapsed into Italian. “Come lo ha fatto?” Angie responded in kind, leaving Jeb out of the loop. The exchange irritated him until Dafne touched his hand. “You’re very brave, Jeb. I hope you and Angie make beautiful children.” Jeb wasn’t sure how to respond to that so he just said, “Thank you.” Angie sat in the chair beside the bed and held Dafne’s hand. “This was all my fault. I should never have involved you.” “Nonsense. We share the same blood. I don’t have any children of my own. You’re all I’ve got.” Angie let the tears flow. “I love you.” Dafne lay back and punched her morphine infusion button. “You can’t stay here. They’re looking for you. Go while you can.”

Angie released Dafne’s hand and walked with Jeb out of the room. Jackie waited just outside the curtain. Angie wondered how much she had heard. “Thank you,” she said. “Jackie stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Captain Castaneda wants to speak with you.” Angie realized what a mistake she had made in confiding in the nurse. “Who is he?” “He’s the police officer investigating your aunt’s shooting.” “Where is he?” “Downstairs. He’s catching the elevator now.” “Good. I’ll meet him in the waiting area.” Jackie stepped aside, making way for Angie and Jeb to leave the unit. As soon as the double doors swung closed, they ran for the steps. The effort exhausted them both. A cab sat outside the entrance to the hospital. Jeb followed Angie onto the back seat and closed the door. The cabbie was a swarthy man with a thick, Mexican accent. “Where to?” Jeb pointed up the street. “The parking garage.” The man looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “That’s hardly a block away.” “I know, but I just had surgery. I’m not walking so well.” “It’s your money.” He started the motor and pulled into the traffic. Angie glanced out her window. A policeman ran out the front door and looked in every direction. After a moment, he shook his head and walked back into the building.

Jeb paid the cab driver and once more scanned the area for anyone who looked threatening. Seeing no one, he walked with Angie up the ramp. “Do you think

it’s safe to use the Corvette?” She shrugged and pointed to the row of cars. “We could steal one of these.” “I’ve broken enough laws already. Let’s settle for option number one.” “OK.” When they reached the Corvette, Jeb looked over the rail. He could see the cop walking toward them from the hospital half a block away. “We’d better hurry.” Angie jumped into the driver’s seat and held out her hand for the keys. Jeb gave them to her and braced himself as she sped out of the space and down the ramp. He handed her a five-dollar bill. She told the money collector to keep the change and pulled into the traffic. “That went well.” “Jeb looked back up the street. The cop was out of sight. “I hope you have a plan.” She glanced over at him. “I do, but first we have to get the briefcase from Dafne’s.” “Do you think it’s still in the closet?” “Let’s hope so. Without it, we’re lost.”

Angie drove to North Bayshore Drive. The air was cooler than usual, and a breeze forced the palm trees to sway back and forth. A Suburban with tinted windows pulled out of a side street and approached. She tightened her grip on the forty-five and continued past Dafne’s house. The Chevrolet followed. At the second intersection, Angie turned right. She made three more rights to return to Bayshore. This time the street was empty. She parked a block away from the house and walked with Jeb back to it. She tore down the police tape that blocked the front door and led Jeb inside the foyer. An unpleasant smell permeated the air. She looked down at the large, dark

red stain on the carpet and wondered how Dafne had survived. She took the stairs two at a time. Jeb followed her into the bedroom. She opened the closet and scanned the floor. “It’s gone.” Jeb removed a blanket from the top shelf, revealing the briefcase. “I didn’t want it to be too easy to find.” She tossed it onto the bed and opened the latch. The two ports, the envelope, and the cash were still there. She set the forty-five on top of them and held out a hand for the thirty-eight. Jeb handed it to her. She slapped in a fresh clip and placed the pistol beside its counterpart. “Let’s go.”

Angie drove back to I-95 and headed south. Rain drizzled from the black clouds that dominated the sky. Jeb looked back to see if anyone had followed them. “Where are we going?” “Nassau.” “There’s a lot of water between here and there.” “That’s why we’re driving to the marina.” Jeb thought of the four injured men he had left there just hours earlier and wondered if the police had dispersed yet. At least we aren’t returning in the Lincoln with the missing bumper, but this Corvette is just as bad. What if Raul reported it stolen? A siren interrupted his thoughts. He looked into the northbound lane. A police car with flashing lights slammed on brakes and bounced over the median into their lane. Angie floored the accelerator, slamming Jeb against the seat. She weaved through the traffic, skidded onto the exit ramp, flew through the red light, and sped west for less than a mile before fleeing into a housing development. She turned a corner and skidded across a lawn to stop behind a house with a FOR SALE sign. Jeb heard the siren as the cop zoomed past them. Angie threw

open her door. She used a rag from the floor to rub the steering wheel, dashboard, and door handles, and then tossed it to Jeb. “Wipe off anywhere you touched.” He used the rag and dropped it on the floor. “Let’s go.” Jeb grabbed the briefcase and ran after her through a yard to the next street. They kept running in the rain until they reached NW 103rd Street. Two blue and whites with flashing lights flew by them. As soon as they disappeared from view, Angie ran across the four-lane road. Jeb followed her to a service station where a man was filling his pickup truck. He appeared to be in his thirties and wore blue jeans and a t-shirt inscribed with a skull and crossbones. A tattoo of a naked woman decorated his left arm. His skin was coarse from too much sun, and his face looked prickly from lack of a shave. She walked up to him. “My car broke down. Can you give me a ride?” He smiled like a teenager meeting a porn star. “Sure. What’s your name?” “Jennifer.” “I’m Doug. Hop in the cab.”

Angie walked around the truck and preceded Jeb onto the seat. McDonald’s bags and candy wrappers littered the floor, and a shotgun hung on a rack over the back window. Doug finished filling the tank and climbed behind the wheel. He took one look at Jeb, and his face contorted. “What the hell is this?” Angie smiled demurely. “This is my brother Ned.” “Well, Ned can just climb back down out of my truck.” Angie placed her hand on his knee. “We’ll pay.” “Damn right you will.” Jeb would have given him the entire $200,000 to avoid being caught by the police. He pulled fifty dollars from his wallet and ed it to him. Doug tossed it back. “Get out.”

Angie cracked open the briefcase. Her hand swept over the forty-five. “We just want to go to the marina. How much do you think is fair?” His eyes narrowed. “For you, nothing. Two hundred dollars for your boyfriend.” She rewarded him with a grin and handed him the money. “Just take I-95 South. I’ll tell you where to get off.” He stuffed the cash into his pocket and pulled out of the station in front of a police car. The cop turned on his flashing lights and stared into the cab as he sped past them. Jeb caught his breath as the brake lights illuminated. The car veered onto a road leading into the housing development. Doug either ignored or did not notice the relief on Angie’s face. He kept driving to the highway and turned south. His mood remained sour, but Jeb took solace in the fact that he did not try to start a conversation. Instead, he turned on the radio and kept his eyes on the road until a news flash announced that a massive search was underway in Miami Shores for a man and a woman who had fled the scene of multiple homicides. The car had been found parked behind a house, and the suspects were believed to be on foot near NW 103rd street. Doug stared at his engers. “Who are you?” Angie forced another broad smile. “I told you. I’m Jennifer, and this is my brother Ned. We’re just trying to get home.” “Bull crap. Do I look like some fagot idiot?” He slowed and turned onto the first exit. Angie reached into the briefcase and pulled out five hundred dollars. “Will this help you to believe me?” He paused at the stop sign at the bottom of the ramp, counted the money, and drove back onto the entrance ramp. “Just tell me where to go, Jennifer.”

Angie directed Doug to an office building five blocks from the marina on

Biscayne Bay. When he stopped in front of it, she kissed him on the cheek and then followed Jeb out of the cab. Dark clouds covered the sky, and a light rain fell. Jeb watched the man drive away. “Do you think he’ll call the police?” Angie held the briefcase over her head as a makeshift umbrella. “I don’t know, but we’d better hurry in case he does.” “What would you have done if he wouldn’t take the money?” “He did, so don’t worry about it.” She walked toward Biscayne Bay. Jeb accepted her non-answer, leaned into the wind, and hurried to keep up. “What’s your plan?” “A little deep sea fishing.” Angie stopped in front of a bar with a Miller-Lite sign in the window on a street one block from the marina. “This is it.” Jeb stared at the unpainted, one-story, wooden building and wondered what she meant. He followed her through the front door. Dim lighting failed to conceal the grime on the floor or the dust on the yellow light bulbs that protruded from the ceiling. A total of four tables filled the limited space. Selena sang from the jukebox. The only customer was a Hispanic man wearing a torn, striped t-shirt and plaid shorts. He sat at the counter, nursing a beer. A thin woman with a wrinkled face and few teeth stood behind the bar. Angie approached her. “Tell Diego that Jennifer Lopez is here to see him.” “You don’t look like any Jennifer Lopez.” “Just tell him.” “He’s not here.” Jeb wondered if this was another alias or if it were some kind of a joke. A door behind the counter opened and a short, heavy-set, middle-aged man with dark skin that was dry and scaly from too much sun peered into the room at Angie. A smile swept across his face. “Hello, Kid. Where have you been all these years?”

Angie gave him a hug and stepped back to look at him. “Disappointed I’m not the real Jennifer Lopez.” “No. I gave up on her long before you disappeared. You going to tell me where you vanished to?” “Maybe someday. First I want you to meet my friend Connor.” He extended his hand to Jeb. “Does she mean boy friend?” Jeb laughed. “She hasn’t told me yet.” Angie led both men to the table in the back of the room. “You still taking folks fishing?” “Yeah. When they come around. Sorry about your brother and your father.” “Thanks. Life sucks sometimes.” “So why are you here. This can’t be a coincidence.” “We want to go fishing.” He squinted at Angie and shook his head. “You aren’t the couple I just heard about on TV, are you?” “I don’t watch TV.” “I’ll take that as a yes. What do you really want?” A ride to the Bahamas would be nice.” “When?” “Now.” “There’s a tropical storm coming in. Nobody is leaving the marina today.” Angie opened the briefcase and removed a stack of bills that she held in front of him. “Here’s $25,000 cash. All you’re got to do is drop us off in Nassau.”

He leaned forward, but made no effort to touch it. “What kind of trouble are you in?” “Raul killed Papà. He runs the family now.” Diego sat back in his seat. “He’ll be pissed if he finds out I helped you.” “That’s why you make the big bucks.” He sighed and reached for the money. “We can’t leave until this storm es.” Angie kept her hand over the bills. “We go now, or the deal’s off.” “Then the price doubles.”

CHAPTER 35

The Sea Goat looked like it predated World War II. It was equipped to take five blue-collar tourists deep-sea fishing with seats on the open wood deck and a small covered cabin area with two built-in cots and a primitive john. Diego filled an ice chest with beer, soft drinks, and ham sandwiches in cellophane bags. Angie and Jeb contributed chips, bread, and peanut butter from a nearby convenience store. The boat set out into a strong headwind with Diego at the wheel and his two engers standing beside him under the limited shelter from the rain provided by the short roof. Jeb held the rail to keep from falling as the boat bounced over the waves. He wondered if they were making a deadly mistake. Diego chatted about the good old days when he had worked for Donato protecting Angie and Lenny. “I could tell even back then that Lenny would never replace your father. He didn’t have the drive.” Angie held to her hat to keep it from blowing away. “It wasn’t that. He just wanted none of it.” “That’s what I mean. He wasn’t like Donato and you.” “I’m not like my father.” He cocked his head to one side and grinned. “ how we used to play poker with him and Lenny and Raul?” “Yeah. That was fun.” “It was fun for you because you were the only one who could out bluff Donato.” “That doesn’t mean I’m like him.” He stared at the heavy swell of the sea and the dark clouds. “Maybe not, but no one else but Donato could have convinced me to take my boat into this storm.”

Jeb listened and wondered if Diego was right. Is Angie like her father? Is it in her DNA? Rain fell in torrents before they lost sight of land. Jeb and Angie retreated to the lower shelter and drank Michelob Lager to celebrate their escape from the mafia and the police. The sun set. Darkness surrounded them. They slept on the two cots until the sea became so rough that they had to hang on to the frames to keep from bouncing to the floor. The wind increased, and swells rose to six feet. Jeb hung over the side of the boat and barfed away the beer. Angie looked even sicker than he felt. Diego struggled to hold onto the wheel as a giant wave crashed over the bow and into the cabin. Water collected on the deck. Diego yelled to his engers to grab a bucket and to start bailing. They didn’t bother to answer. The boat bounced like a roller coaster, and it took all their strength to keep from washing overboard. Diego turned the wheel. “We’re going back.” Angie stumbled to the helm. “You do, and I’ll tell Raul you helped us.” “We’re gonna die out here.” “Not if you pay attention.” Another wave crashed across the deck. Diego clung to the wheel. Angie lost her grip and fell back onto the deck. Jeb vomited again and caught her hand as another wave struck. She dragged him back into the cabin where they clung to one of the cots and to each other. The boat groaned, and water rose around their feet. Diego wailed something in Spanish—either curses at them or pleas to the Almighty. As if in answer, a bolt of lighting flashed beside the boat, and the simultaneous explosion of thunder convinced Jeb that Diego was right—that they were going to die. An hour ed before the waves diminished and quit plowing across the deck. The sheets of rain continued to pound the deck, and the rocking of the boat compounded Jeb’s nausea. Jeb took the wheel so Diego could do a damage

assessment. His report was not good. The boat was leaking. He would have to radio the coast guard. Angie opened the briefcase and pulled out the thirty-eight. Diego stepped back. “What the Fuck!” Angie cocked the hammer and fired. The radio shattered. Diego threw up his hands in disgust. “You fool. We’re going to sink.” Angie flipped the safety on and set the pistol back into the case. “We’ll bail.” Jeb watched and wondered how Angie could be the same girl he had dated in college. Diego was right. Donato would be proud. They took turns, one of them at the wheel, another filling a bucket with water, and the other tossing the water overboard. Hours ed, and all they could do was hold their own.

The sun rose to a clear sky. The boat continued to leak and rode low in the water, but in the absence of rain and of waves splashing into the cabin, the bailing kept the boat afloat. Fatigue overcame Jeb, and his chest ached. He slept on the cot for an hour and then relieved Diego at the wheel so he could bail while Angie rested. They took turns for the rest of the morning. The nausea persisted so Jeb subsisted on Coca Cola. Angie and Diego finished off the ham sandwiches and made a dent in the junk food. The air grew hot, and Jeb welcomed the setting of the sun. He looked in the drawer under the cot, hoping to find a bottle of water but discovered a rifle with a scope instead. He wondered why Diego would carry one on a fishing boat. Had he ever dealt with pirates? Are they a threat to us? Diego checked his GPS and announced that the storm had blown the boat off course. They would have to go to the Abaco Islands, 150 miles to the north of Nassau. The boat would never make it to its original destination. Jeb halfexpected Angie to pull her pistol and to tell him otherwise, but she just said, “Fine.” Jeb had no idea where the Abaco Islands were, but anywhere that the ground

was firm would have suited him. He gave Diego a “thumbs up.”

The Sea Goat lumbered into the calm waters of the Sea of Abaco in the late afternoon. Diego steered for Marsh Harbor on Great Abaco Island. He pulled into a slip dedicated to boat repair at the marina. “I can work on it here,” he said. Jeb climbed to the dock and stood on unsteady feet. Hunger replaced the nausea that had plagued him since the storm. Angie opened the briefcase and handed Diego $60,000, a good deal more than their agreement. Diego stashed the cash in his pocket. “Don’t bother me again.” Angie kissed his cheek. “You saved our lives. I owe you.” “No you don’t. Just stay away from me.” She climbed onto the dock, and led Jeb into the quaint, little town. There were many restaurants. Jeb was about to suggest one for dinner, but she found a cab and led him into the back seat. “Treasure Cay,” she said to the driver. “Do you know where you’re going?” Jeb asked. “Of course.” She explained that she had come to the Bahamas lots of times as a child. Treasure Cay was a beautiful little community a few miles away. She wanted to put some distance between them and Diego’s boat—just in case. Jeb tried not to think about what that meant. He had assumed that they would be safe now that they were out of the country. The driver stopped for the only stoplight in Marsh Harbor and headed north. Jeb closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but Angie’s precaution reminded him that Raul and Marat would never stop looking for them, and he had no idea what steps the Miami police would take. He felt the cab stop. Angie shook his shoulder. “Wake up, honey. We’re there.” He looked out the window at another marina filled with yachts and fishing boats. The setting was beautiful, but he had seen enough of clear blue water for one day. Angie paid the driver and followed Jeb out of the cab. She waited for the car

to drive away before pointing to a building that was little more than a shack. A wooden mermaid who was missing one arm guarded the doorway. Jeb felt weak and could barely stand. Angie looked at him and frowned. “Do you feel up to eating something?” His stomach growled as if in response. “There’s your answer.” She laughed and led him inside the antiquated structure. He longed for air conditioning, but settled for the warm breeze that ed through the open windows. He consumed a large iced tea before thinking of the consequences. Angie assured him that the water was safe. At least she thought it was. He swallowed one of his antibiotic pills and ordered another glass. After finishing their seafood platters, Angie and Jeb walked a couple of blocks to a hotel. He paid cash for a cabin near the beach for Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Angie mentioned taking a walk by the shore, but Jeb crashed on the bed, still fully dressed in the clothes he had worn on the voyage.

The morning sun pulled Jeb awake at seven a.m. He reached for Angie. She was not there. He jumped out of bed, opened the door, and stared down the empty walkway. He looked back in the room and realized that the briefcase was missing. He ran down the path to the hotel lobby. The clerk had not seen her. He suggested checking the beach. That was the last place Jeb would have considered, but there weren’t many options. He followed the path that led to the wide strand of white sand. Angie sat on the briefcase facing the waves that cascaded toward the shore. Somehow she sensed that Jeb was there, because she smiled back at him and waved. He settled on the sand beside her. “You scared me.” She leaned against his chest. “We’re safe here, sweetheart.” “I thought you had left.”

“Where would I go without you?” “I don’t know. That’s what scared me.” She stood and pulled him to my feet. “Let’s walk.” They were both barefooted, so they waded in the shallow surf, holding hands and enjoying the tranquility. Jeb looked out over the sea. “It’s beautiful here.” “Yes, it is. I may stay for a while.” “What happened to we?” “When this all blows over, you need to return to North Carolina—get back with that girl. You have a future there.” “In other words, you don’t want me here.” “I want you to have a life. Those people are going to find me eventually, and when they do, I want you to be far away.” “Far away is highly overrated. I’m staying with you. Get used to it.” She stopped walking. “Are you sure? I’m not the person you think I am.” “So you have several names and multiple personalities and tend to pop in and out of my life at the most inconvenient times. Nobody is perfect, but you come pretty damn close.” She kissed him. “You’re making a big mistake.” “I’m going with my gut, and it tells me not to let you out of my sight.” She laughed and rubbed his belly. “What else does your gut tell you?” “It’s past time for breakfast.”

After resolving Jeb’s caloric insufficiency, Angie and he visited the hotel shop and purchased swimming attire, Bermuda shorts and tropical shirts. They

changed into the bathing suits and tossed their old outfits into the trash. After a dip in the ocean, they retired to hammocks behind their cabin. Jeb dozed and watched Angie read a novel. Her one-piece suit that covered the bruises on her chest was not as revealing as the red one she had worn on Donato’s deck, but he had difficulty taking his eyes off of her. It was hard to believe that she was alive and that they were together again. Maybe she wasn’t the person he had thought she was, but whoever she was, being with her felt right. Diego’s revelation that she was like her father disturbed him, and every day revealed a different facet to her personality. He wanted to learn more. He was sure that hormones played a role in that feeling, but his life no longer felt empty. In the late afternoon, he walked on the beach with her. “Do you have a plan?” he asked. She took his hand and led him into the ankle-deep water. “This is my plan. You, me, a beautiful beach. What more could I want?” “Diego seemed to think you would eventually want to go back to Miami.” “Diego doesn’t know me. I’m not like my father.” “So you plan to just stay here?” “Why not? It’s a tropical paradise, and no one knows we’re here.” “Diego does.” “He’s mad at me, but I trust him. Besides, Raul would kill him if he knew he had brought us here. Diego won’t tell a soul.”

Raul stood at the back of the boat as Guido took it toward the house. He had trouble thinking of it as his own, but Donato was food for worms, and Angie knew better than to come back to claim it. He had consolidated his control over Donato’s empire and had tacit agreements with both his rivals that would exponentially increase his power and wealth. He should have been dancing a jig, but he felt unfulfilled. It wasn’t just that Angie

had escaped. She had laughed when he went limp. Cocaine never did that to me before. Why did it have to happen just when I was about to prove myself? He had planned to rest at home for a few hours, let the coke wear off, and give her a chance to think about what she had done. Then he would have gone back and serviced her properly. How did that college kid take out three of Sabas’s men? How did he even find out where she was? It could take another decade to find her. By then that smooth skin would sag, and those classy tits would need silicone reinforcement. It also bothered him that Sabas and Vlad had not totally signed off on their agreement. They could still back out, or worse, turn on him at the meeting. At least it would be on his home turf at the cabin. The marsh created a moat around three-fourths of the building, and he would have his men there to make it safe, if that were even possible. He answered his cellphone. The voice that came through it sounded far away. “Is this Raul?” “Who wants to know?” “Willie Underwood. Can you hear me?” He recognized the name and called to Guido to cut the motor. “The Willie from the Bahamas?” “Yeah. I run the marina at Marsh Harbor.” Raul could think of only one reason for the man to call. “What do you want?” “I saw something today that might interest you” “Go on.” “A girl showed up here this afternoon. Looked a lot like that sister of yours.” Raul felt himself growing hard and wondered why that couldn’t have happened when it counted. “You’re right. I’m very interested. Where is she now?

“I’m not sure. She left here in a cab.” “There’s a grand in it for you if you find her.” “I’ll check with the driver. How will I collect my money?” “I’m going to the airport now. I’ll hand it to you myself.” He shut the phone and hollered to Guido, “Turn the boat around.”

CHAPTER 36

Jeb walked with Angie until the sun set and the air grew cool. She stopped and pointed to the full moon. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He stared across the deserted beach. “Everything is beautiful, especially you.” “Will you stay here with me?” “Yes, but I’ll have to go back to North Carolina in a month to take my boards.” “You can’t. It’s too soon. They’ll find you there.” Jeb knew she was right, but he had sacrificed three years of his life to get his law degree, and he was not going to let a sociopathic punk keep him from obtaining his license. “It’s something I have to do.” “Then I’m going with you.” “Not a good idea.” “We’re a team now, Jeb. Get used to it.” She undid the strap to her bathing suit and tossed it onto the sand. Her body seemed to glow in the soft light emanating from the moon. Jeb took in a breath and knew that he would never win an argument with her. She did not play fair. He removed his suit and followed her into the ocean. The water felt warm and refreshing. Angie swam like a dolphin, fast with undulating motion that carried her body beneath the water and back above the surface with rhythmic grace. Jeb dove between the waves and tried to catch up with her, but the soreness of his chest restricted his movements, and soon he was out of breath. Angie stopped and waited for him to catch up. “We should have left college and moved here eight years ago. No one could have found us.” Jeb kicked his feet to stay afloat. “I would have come. All you had to do was ask.”

Her face reddened. “I wish I had. There’re lots of things I would do different.” He knew he would have to put the past behind him. He had committed to stay with Angie. Forgiving her was easy, but forgetting was another story. “I know. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m just glad you’re here now.” She splashed water over his head. “it it. What could be better than this?” He caught her arm and pulled her close. She looked away toward the shore. “Where did they come from?” He followed her gaze. Two men wearing windbreakers and long pants stood on the beach beside the discarded bathing suits. “I don’t know. Maybe they heard the prettiest girl on Abaco was swimming here.” “I don’t think so. One of the men lit a cigarette, took a deep breath, and turned his head toward them. Jeb wondered why they had chosen that spot to stand. Will they stay until we have to come out of the water? Do they think they’re being funny? “Let’s hope they don’t run off with our bathing suits.” Angie failed to laugh. “That’s the least of our worries. Do you think Raul could have sent them?” Jeb did not want to alarm her. “No. How could he possibly know we’re here?” “Diego has a cell phone. He could have called, or maybe they traced it?” “You worry too much. We’re going to be fine. We may just have to tread water a while.” They did just that for fifteen minutes. No more frolicking. The mood had ed. Finally the man tossed his cigarette into the surf and walked back toward the marina hand in hand with his friend. Jeb and Angie swam for the shore and slipped into their suits. They waited for the visitors to disappear from sight before starting back to their cabin.

After showering and changing clothes, they walked to a restaurant recommended by the clerk of the hotel. Their table overlooked the water. They drank native beer and conch chowder and shared a large order of coconut grouper. Jeb finished the meal with key lime pie, watched the sun disappear into the sea, and revisited the idea that Abaco was a perfect place to hide. The tropical breeze, the friendly people, and the beautiful beaches helped him to suppress the fear that lingered in the back of his thoughts. He was glad to return to the seclusion of their room. Angie removed her clothes and lured him under the sheets. Without saying a word, she wrapped herself around his body and showed him what it meant to have a soul mate.

Raul, Carmine, and Orsino arrived at the Marsh Harbor airport in the Laudicino private plane long after the evening sky had given up its light. Raul told his pilot to refuel the aircraft and to stay in town with his cellphone on. Willie Underwood met the three men at the terminal. “I see you came in style.” Raul was in no mood for pleasantries. “Where is she?” “I haven’t found her yet. I’m waiting for the cab driver to come back.” Raul thought of slitting his throat but decided he could still be useful. “How did she get to the island?” Fear crept into Willie’s eyes. There was no mistaking the menace that Raul presented. “By boat. She came with a young man.” “Is the boat still here?” “Yeah.” “Take us to it.” Willie led them to his car. Moments later, they arrived at the marina. He pointed to the Sea Goat. Raul knew it well. “Where’s the captain?” “The boat got damaged in a storm. He’s been working on it since he arrived.”

Raul handed him a one-thousand-dollar bill and assured him there would be dire consequences if he told anyone how he earned it. “Now go to that cabbie’s house and find out where he left Angie, and you’ll get another one of these.” Willie hurried back to his car. Raul and his two lieutenants walked on the dock to the Sea Goat. Diego was bent over the motor with a wrench in his hand. He stood and looked at his guests. His face lost all color. “Raul? What brings you to Marsh Harbor?” Raul could almost smell the fear. He enjoyed seeing Diego squirm. “I could ask you the same thing.” “Brought some tourists over, but had boat trouble.” “You get it fixed?” “I’m done. Just cleaning up.” “I heard my little sister was here. Have you seen her?” “Angie? No, can’t say that I have, but I’ll keep my eyes open.” Raul realized that Diego was not going to tell him what he needed to know without some encouragement. “Mind if we come aboard for a minute?” Diego looked in every direction as if there were some fairytale escape—as if he actually thought he could come out of his predicament alive. Resignation crossed his face. “Of course not.”

Car lights flashed by the window at four a.m. Jeb opened his eyes. The covers decorated the floor, and a cool breeze blew between the open blinds. Angie lay on her side, her breast pressed against his shoulder. Jeb rested his head on his arm and let his gaze drift over all of her. He wondered how he could have hesitated to welcome her back into his life. She smiled in her sleep, and he wished he could enter her dream. He rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom without turning on the lights. Angie looked too relaxed to wake her at that hour. He glanced out the window.

Two men approached the cabin. They were Caucasian with black hair, dark clothes, and lace-up shoes. The closest one held a finger over his lips as his partner crept forward across the sand. Jeb saw the latex gloves on their hands, and all doubt about their intentions vanished. The pistol in the lead thug’s hand reinforced that impression. He hurried back into the bedroom and shook Angie awake. “We have company.” She jumped out of bed, retrieved the briefcase from the closet, and opened it. The two pistols lay on top of the cash. She left the case open on the dresser as a distraction, handed Jeb the forty-five, and kept the thirty-eight for herself. “How many?” “Two.” “Hurry.” Jeb threw the sheets over the pillows and followed Angie under the bed. He heard a mechanical click. The door swung open. From his position beneath the slats, he watched the feet of the two men approach and then stop in front of the bed. Gunshots reverberated through the room. Bullets slammed through the pillows and into the mattress. Jeb aimed for the legs of the closest intruder and pulled the trigger. Angie followed suit. Both assailants screamed and fell to the floor. One of them pointed his pistol toward Angie. Jeb shot him in the face. She fired twice more. The men ceased moving. Jeb and Angie crawled from under the bed. He checked the attackers. They both lay on their backs. Neither had a pulse. “They’re dead. Do you have any idea who they are?” “Yeah. Carmine and Orsino. They work for Raul.” “Then he’s probably nearby.” Angie hurried to the door and closed it. “Get dressed.” Moments later, someone knocked. Angie called out, “Who is it?”

“The manager. Is everything all right?” Keeping her pistol concealed, Angie cracked the door open a few inches. “No. Those kids behind our cabin woke me up. Are firecrackers allowed here?” “No.” “Please tell them to stop. I’m trying to sleep.” She slammed the door, returned the pistols to the briefcase, and tossed their bathing suits on top of them. “That was close.” Jeb used a pillowcase to wipe the room clean of any fingerprints and led Angie outside. He locked the door and hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the handle. They followed the path to the beach. “Any ideas,” she asked. “We have to get off the island before they find the bodies.” “A ferry leaves from Sandy Point.” “How do we get there?” “We can’t go anywhere without warning Diego.” It was too early to catch a cab so Jeb and Angie walked for an hour and then crossed the sand dunes to the road just as the sun rose above the ocean. Jeb sat on a stump while Angie stood in her shorts by the road. Fifteen minutes ed before a pickup truck stopped. A middle-aged, brown-skinned man reached across the console, opened the door for Angie, and waited for Jeb to climb into the rear cargo area.

Raul slept soundly in a hotel room in Marsh Harbour. He bolted awake when the early morning light ed through his window. Carmine should have called by now. Where are they? He turned on the light and stared at his watch. Six o’clock.

He reached for his cell and punched in the number. It went to voice mail. Damn. He tried Orsino with the same result. What the fuck has gone wrong? He threw on his clothes and walked to their room. No one responded to his knocking. He ran to the lobby. The clerk dozed at the desk. Raul shook him awake. “Get me a cab.” Fifteen minutes ed. Raul called the phones again. Still no answer. The cab pulled in front of the hotel. Raul gave the driver the address where he had sent his lieutenants. “That’s in Treasure Cay,” the man responded. “I know the fuck where it is. Just drive.”

Angie and Jeb got out of the truck at the marina. He was surprised to find the Sea Goat floating in the slip. “What happened to the leaks?” “Diego must have sealed them.” “That was fast.” Jeb stepped off the dock onto the deck of the boat and held a hand for Angie. “Let’s see if he’s on board.” She walked toward the cabin and stopped, staring at a canvas tarp that covered the floor. “What’s that?” Jeb lifted the coarse cloth. Diego lay flat on his back with his head tilted at a strange angle. A deep, jagged gash crossed his throat, and dry blood stained his chest and face. Jeb backed away. The smell of death saturated his nostrils. He resisted the urge to vomit. “They got here first.” Angie stumbled back. “The bastards.” Jeb looked up at the dock and saw a man with a uniform walking toward them. “We’ve got trouble.” He tossed the tarp back over the corpse. Angie searched Diego’s pockets. She held up the key to the boat. “Let’s get out of here.” Jeb undid the ropes while she cranked the motor just as the man reached them.

He tried to step onboard, but Angie backed the boat away. He waved his hands. “What are you doing?” Jeb waved back. “Going fishing. We’ll be back this afternoon.” “Stop!” Angie turned the boat and gunned the engine. The man blew a whistle and yelled, but Jeb could not understand what he said. Angie kept the throttle open, and the boat bounced so hard that Jeb had to cling to the rail. They left the marina and entered the Sea of Abaco. A few minutes later, Jeb looked back toward Marsh Harbour. A large white boat pulled out of its slip and headed toward them. He ed Angie at the helm. “They’re following us.” She held to the wheel. “I know. Find a seat. We can’t let them catch us with that body on board.”

CHAPTER 37

Two police cars and an ambulance with flashing lights lined the street outside the resort. Raul paid the driver and ed the growing crowd of spectators. Medics carried two stretchers from one of the cabins. A sheet covered each of the bodies, making it impossible for Raul to identify them. He felt his heart race. He had told Carmine and Orsino to kill Jeb but to bring Angie to him alive. Those bastards killed them both. He scanned the area for any sign of his men. Everyone there looked local. A cop approached the onlookers. Raul knew he should disappear, but curiosity forced him to listen to his questions. “Did anyone see a young man and a woman leave the building this morning?” Raul turned to a large, dark-skinned woman and asked, “Who’s dead?” She shook her head. “Don’t know. Two men. They weren’t from around here.” His headache returned. Those fools. I told them to be careful. At least they didn’t kill Angie. I have plans for her before she s her daddy. He slipped away from the throng of voyeurs and called for a cab. Once more fifteen minutes ed before it arrived. He jumped into the back seat. “Marsh Harbour. Hurry.” He got out at the marina and rushed to the dock. The slip that had housed the Sea Goat stood empty. Fuck! He stared out across the water. She got away again. She could go anywhere in the Caribbean. I’ll never find her. He thought about reporting the theft of the boat to the local police, but that seemed a bad idea after what had gone down last night. He had no alibi and no explanation for why he had come to the island. It was best to vanish as quickly as possible. He used his cell to call his pilot. “Meet me at the plane in fifteen minutes.”

Angie and Jeb had a quarter-mile head start, but the white boat gained on the Sea Goat. They ed a small island and headed toward the open sea. The boat grew closer. A voice boomed from a loud speaker. “Stop!” Angie stayed at top speed. The boat kept after them, and Jeb knew there was no way that the Sea Goat could outrun it. A man near the front of the boat held a rifle in his arms. He aimed it toward them and looked through the scope. Jeb screamed. “He’s got a gun!” Angie kept the throttle down. “Take cover!” Jeb clung to the rail and stumbled toward her. He looked back. The man set his rifle on the deck, and the boat stopped. Angie stayed at top speed until it disappeared from sight. Then she turned off the motor and let it cool. “That was scary.” Jeb had no idea why they were still alive. “They had us. Why did they quit?” “We got beyond their territorial waters.” “Damn, you’re smart.” She left the helm and walked to the cabin. “Help me get Diego overboard.” They removed his clothes to make it harder to identify his body. Jeb rolled him onto the tarp, and they used it to carry him to the stern and to toss him into the sea. Jeb felt as if he had crossed a line from which there could be no turning back. “Do we have enough fuel to make it back to Miami?” he said. “Are you crazy?” “We can’t stay in the Bahamas.” “I know, but the people in Miami are trying to kill us.” “We’ll have to take that chance. I don’t care to rot in some third-world prison. “We don’t have enough fuel and food to reach the mainland.”

Jeb ed glimpsing several cardboard boxes in the cabin. He crossed the deck and looked at the contents of all three of them: bread, peanut butter, cheese crackers, jelly packets, cashews, cinnamon buns, and oranges. The ice chest was full of beer and cokes, although there was no ice. Beside the chest were two containers of gasoline. “Looks like he was stocked to go home. There’s plenty to eat and drink if you’re not into healthy eating.” Angie checked the fuel gage and the spare tank. “I guess we’ve got enough gas. I’d rather not refill anywhere in the Bahamas.” “Me neither. Why don’t you drive? I’ll clean up this mess.” Angie cranked the motor and headed south to circumvent Great Abaco Island. Jeb found a mop and bucket and used seawater to mob the sticky blood off the cabin floor. Clear sky and calm waters lay before them. Jeb carried a warm coke to Angie, and they stood at the helm with the sun at their backs as they turned west toward the U.S. coast. She leaned into him and whispered, “I’m scared.” He wrapped an arm around her and tried to sound confident. “We’re going to be fine.”

Jeb took turns with Angie piloting the boat. The sun peaked above their heads and traveled into the ocean ahead of them. They ed the Bimini islands in darkness. Angie tossed the pistols overboard. It was best to destroy anything that could connect them to the violence in Abaco. At dawn, Jeb stood at the helm as the mainland came into view. By then the fuel was low, and he was glad to know that they had enough to reach Miami. Angie stood beside him and pointed the way to the inlet. “I was thinking we might hide in Alaska. People disappear into the backwoods there, and its impossible to find them.” “I’m staying here.” Her eyes widened. “You can’t. They’ll kill you.”

Jeb shook his head. “I’m no good at running. I’m going to the police. I know enough to put those bastards away for the rest of their lives.” “You’ll never live to testify. Raul has cops on his payroll.” “Then I’ll have to take them out myself.” “That’s insane.” “I don’t have a choice. They’ll find us anywhere we run.” She pursed her lips. “You’re pissing me off.” “I’m sorry, but I’m through running.” “Fine, but you aren’t going to take me out of the equation.” He kept his eyes on the channel as the boat approached shallow water. “I think you should go to Alaska. I’ll come find you when this is over.” “Don’t be an asshole. Whatever we do, we’re doing it together—so what exactly do you have in mind?” “I’m good with a rifle. Had lots of time to practice in Afghanistan.” “And where do you think you’re going to get one?” “Diego’s rifle is under the cot in the cabin.” She folded her arms in front of her chest. “It’s a piece of crap.” “Well, it will have to do.” “No it won’t, and you aren’t doing this alone. You heard Diego. I’m probably better than you with a rifle.”

Angie steered the Sea Goat into its slip. Jeb secured it in place with ropes. They wiped the boat down with a wet cloth and disembarked without encountering any early risers. Jeb knew that the police may already be investigating Diego’s

disappearance, and he wanted to move as fast as they could away from the marina before anyone noticed them. Angie, however, walked through the parking lot, compressing the button on the key chain that Jeb had removed from Diego’s pocket. She stopped beside a blue Ford whose lights blinked. “Diego doesn’t need his car anymore.” She opened the driver’s door and stepped inside. “Come on.” Taking the car seemed an unnecessary risk to Jeb, but he climbed onto the enger seat. “Couldn’t we just take a cab?” “Not where we’re going.” “Where’s that?” “You’ll see.” Angie drove to the dock that Guido used to carry people to her father’s house. The boat was not there, but it was visible approaching from across the water. She kept driving and parked a block away in a pay lot. Jeb walked with her back to the dock. He thought she was being reckless. “Would you like to share what you have in mind? Raul is probably on that boat, and I would imagine he’s packing.” “We’ll stay out of sight. I need to talk with Guido. He can fill us in on what Raul is up to.” “He could also tell Raul we’re here.” “He won’t. He liked me a lot when I was a little girl.” “You aren’t a little girl anymore.” “I’m glad you noticed.”

Raul stood in the back of the boat and watched the dock, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Sabas and Vlad had implied that a truce was in place, but he did not trust either of them. He loosened his necktie, but still found it to be

uncomfortable. It was bad enough to have to wear a suit, but that thing tied around his neck seemed unnatural. It had to have been invented by a vindictive bitch whose goal in life was to make men suffer. Candy stood beside him, wearing a black blouse and a black miniskirt that matched her black hair and black eyeliner. He patted her on the butt. She was straight off the boat from Mexico. Her English was not the best, but she made up for it in other ways, which she would demonstrate for him as soon as they returned from the funeral. He had scheduled it early to get it over with. He had to show respect for Donato, but the man had betrayed him. He did not deserve a big affair, but to skimp on his burial would reflect poorly on the entire family, particularly with the media circus that would surround it. He acted as if he had earned the right to be my father just because my mother spread her legs for him. He thought he was some kind of god, but his body will rot just like Angie’s will rot once I find her. His cellphone broke the silence, and he flipped it open to hear Marat’s voice. “It’s set. We’ll meet with Sabas at nine a.m. tomorrow at the cabin.” “Good. Tell him not to be late.” “Right.” The phone went dead. Raul looked out across the water. Things were looking up. Within twenty-four hours he would consolidate his control over both the drug and the immigrant traffic. He would be one of the most powerful men on the east coast. Angie will be sorry when I find her. I would have shared it all with her.

Angie watched Raul climb off the boat and step into a black Escalade. When the SUV disappeared, she took Jeb’s hand and ran to the dock. Guido had already restarted the motor. He turned it off when they approached. “You’d best not be seen around here.” She allowed Jeb to help her climb onto the boat. “I know. Raul wants me dead, but I have other plans.” Guido frowned. “Those plans should involve getting as far away from here as possible.”

“We tried that. He followed us.” “If he finds out I’ve talked with you, he’ll kill me too.” “Where’s he going all dressed up like that?” “Your daddy’s funeral.” “He’s taking a whore with him?” “Apparently so.” “What’s he up to. Why did he kill Papà?” “Your stepbrother has made plans to consolidate the families. He meets with Vlad and Sabas tomorrow to seal the deal.” “What do you know about it?” “Just that it’s scheduled for nine o’clock in the morning and it’ll be in some cabin.” Angie kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Guido. You are an angel.” “You’re welcome. Now get off my boat, before Raul finds out and makes me a real angel.”

Jeb leaned back in the seat of Diego’s Ford and closed his eyes, surrendering to the fatigue. He sprung awake when the car stopped beside a rundown warehouse in a row of dingy storage buildings. “Where are we?” Angie got out of the car. “Papà’s man cave. It’s where he kept all his toys.” She tapped four numbers on a built-in combination lock. The door swung open. Jeb followed her into a dark room. She flipped a switch that flooded the area with light. He stared at a huge cache of rifles, pistols, submachine guns, and assault weapons. “Does Raul know about this?” “Yeah, but he doesn’t know that I know.”

“There are enough weapons to supply an army platoon.” “All we need are a couple of pistols and rifles with scopes.” Jeb looked at the stack of foot-long bars that filled a cabinet against the back wall. Each was two inches across and one inch thick. He traversed the room and removed one of them from the shelf. It had the consistency of clay. He read the labeling on the olive-drab cellophane that encomed it: Cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine (RDX). “We have a better option now,” he said. “This is enough C-4 to demolish a convoy of tanks.” He removed the bars of explosive from the cabinet and carried them to the table that stood in the center of the room. One of them slipped off the pile and fell to the floor. Angie gasped and jumped backwards. When the room did not disappear in smoke, she blushed. “I thought we were dead.” Jeb retrieved the bar and returned it to the stack. “C-4 carries quite a wallop, but it takes more than that to set it off. You need a detonator or a blasting cap.” He returned to the cabinet where he found detonators and timers. He selected one of each and brought them back to the table. Angie frowned. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” “Yeah. My two years in the military weren’t completely wasted. This is what I did.” He molded the C-4 into a bulky mass and inserted the detonator. “Give me a few minutes, and we’ll be ready to go.” Angie watched him attach the timer. The process was frightening, and she wanted to go outside just in case it did not go well, but that would have shown a lack of faith that she did not want to it. Jeb set the homemade bomb into a waterproof bag that he slipped into a backpack. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 38

Angie opened the trunk of Diego’s car, and Jeb put his project there along with two sniping rifles, two pistols, and bullets. She looked at him and wondered if he was up to the mission that he planned. Fatigue clouded his face, and the fine tremor of his hands betrayed the adverse effects of too little sleep and too much coffee. She knew that his original plan would never have worked. He would be useless as a sniper. She had seen him drop that bar of C-4. He needed time to rest and to recover from his surgery. She climbed into the car and waited until Jeb stumbled onto the enger seat beside her. “This is a terrible idea. We’ve got a suitcase full of money. Let’s just take it and run. We’ll go someplace where they’ll never find us.” He looked at her with bloodshot eyes. “We tried that. Abaco Island should have been the perfect hideout. They found us in less than forty-eight hours.” “You need to sleep.” “We’ll both sleep when this is done.” Angie did not like his plan, but she knew he was right. She cranked the motor and drove toward the highway. Jeb closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the seat. “Tell me what you know about this meeting of the families.” “Just what Guido told us. It’s scheduled for nine o’clock in the morning. We don’t have much time.” “Where is the cabin?” “In the Everglades. Papà took me there when I was small. It’s surrounded on three sides by water. The only way to approach it is from the front, and they will post guards there.”

“Then we’ll get there tonight before they arrive. I’ll set the bomb and let the timer do the work for us.” “That just might work.” “Who will be there other than Raul, Sabas, and Vlad?” “Marat and each of them will have an associate or two and several bodyguards. There could be twenty or more people there, and they all will be armed.” Angie turned onto I-95 and headed north. She stopped for a late lunch at Cracker Barrel in Hollywood. Jeb had little to say. He fell asleep waiting for his pot roast. She awoke him when the meal arrived and suggested that they find a motel and rest for a while. He shook his head. “We have to get there before those punks send their troops to guard the place.” After stopping at Walmart for supplies, they drove west on Tamiami Trail into the Everglades. Angie pulled onto a narrow, two-lane road and continued driving. She pointed to a dirt road that ed under a canopy of palms. “That’s the way to the cabin.” Jeb stared into the woods. “How far in does it go?” Angie had only visited the place once years ago as a child. She could only guess. “About a mile, I think.” She pulled into the forest a half-mile from the road, concealed the car behind a cluster of palmetto palms, and opened her bag of acquisitions from Walmart. They changed into drab work clothes that blended with the foliage and secured pistols in holsters on their belts. Jeb lifted a backpack that contained bottled water, food, bullets, and the bomb. They marched north through a grove of pine trees, carrying rifles on their shoulders. Angie checked a com every few minutes to be sure that they were moving in the right direction. As the sun disappeared behind the trees, visibility decreased. An hour ed before she spotted the wooden cabin across a sawgrass marsh. It stood a foot above the ground on short stilts at the edge of the water. A dilapidated dock protruded ten feet into the marsh from the back of the house. An airboat floated beside it. The place seemed unchanged by the years except for one significant alteration. Two men with assault rifles stood on the front porch,

blocking the only entrance to the dwelling. She held up her hand and pointed. Jeb bit his lip and stepped back out of sight. He took a deep breath, and whispered, “So much for plan B.”

Jeb retreated behind a group of cypress trees. Angie followed and sat on the ground. “What are we going to do now?” Jeb emptied his pack except for the bomb and retrieved two bottles of water and ham sandwiches. He was too tired and too hungry to contemplate plan C. “Dinner. I can’t think on an empty stomach.” They ate in silence, and then crawled back to the edge of the water and studied the landscape. From a sniper’s perspective, their location was sound. The entrance to the cabin was in clear view fifty yards away, and the marsh protected them like a huge moat. Planting the bomb was more complicated. The guards in front precluded approaching the house by any direct route. Jeb realized that he would have to walk around the marsh and wade through shallow water to reach the back of the house. The stilts would allow him to crawl under it to place the C4. He could then set the timer and slip away by the same route before the explosion. The increasing darkness would make circling the marsh difficult, but it might prevent the guards from seeing him under the house. He explained his plan to Angie. She had already made the same assessment. “It’s not possible,” she whispered. “The guards will see you, and if they don’t, the gators will.” “Gators? I don’t see any gators.” “They come out after dark—looking for dinner.” Jeb stared across the water, looking for predators and seeing none, but wishing for a plan D. “Times like this make me wish we were back in my dorm room at Carolina.” “Me too. I say we leave while we still can. We are way over our heads.”

“We’ve got to face them sometime. I’d rather do it on our .” He crawled to his backpack and slipped it onto his shoulders. Angie gripped his arm. “I don’t want you to go.” Jeb handed her his rifle and kissed the tears that covered her face. They tasted salty. He did not want to go either. He never wanted to leave her again, but running was only a temporary escape. Eventually the mobsters would find them. “I’m glad you came back to me. We’re going to end this. We’re going to be just fine.” He hoped Angie did not notice how his teeth chattered. A man is not supposed to tremble when he confronts danger. He had faced men with guns, but never creatures with huge jaws and sharp teeth. He pulled away from her and walked along the perimeter of the marsh, keeping under the cover of the trees. The thick foliage slowed his progress, and soon darkness complicated every step he took. He fell over a cypress knee and hit the ground hard. Half an hour ed before he realized that his pistol was no longer in its holster. He contemplated backtracking to find it, but realized how futile that would be. Only the lights in the cabin kept him oriented, and he prayed the men would leave them on all night. The dry land disappeared, and he trudged in wet muck and shallow water. He realized that Angie had been right. His plan was insane. He wondered if alligators hunted in packs like U-boats and wolves, or if only one would drag him under the water and eat his meal alone. Hours ed. An army of mosquitos descended upon Jeb. The full moon rose and provided enough light for him to approach the cabin. He stopped and stared across thirty feet of water at the decrepit dock. A twelve-foot gator lay on the bank beside the airboat.

With no weapon, Jeb had no defense against the predator. If it slid into the water and came for him, there was nothing he could do. The only people who could save him were the guards in front of the house, and they would gladly feed him to the beast.

He dropped to his knees and hoped the gator had not seen him. Fifteen minutes ed. He dared to lift his head. The creature had not moved. Jeb leaned against a tree and waited an hour. It remained on the bank. He closed his eyes to rest for just a moment. When he awoke the dense darkness had faded to the dim light of dawn. His time was running out. Once the people arrived, there would be no way to reach the house without detection. He dared to look again. The reptile was out of sight. Jeb stared into the dark water. Is it coming for me? The glow of cigarettes burning in front of the cabin drew his gaze to the guards who stood there with their backs to him. He crept into the water. It felt cool and provided some relief from the mosquitos. It was deeper than he anticipated. He sank to his waist. The bottom was soft and mucky. He lifted his backpack above his head and waded toward the house. One foot found a hole, and Jeb kicked his feet to stay afloat. One of the men coughed and twisted his head to spit. He sucked on his cigarette and blew smoke toward his companion. Both sentries turned toward Jeb. He froze in place, afraid to move, knowing what would happen if they saw him. He looked in every direction for the alligator. It could pull me under the water no matter what I do. The smoker lit a cigarette for his companion. They stood gazing over the water until the lights of a car approached on the narrow road. Jeb hurried to the bank and crawled between the short stilts that ed the house. He moved forward and looked up at the floor of the house less than two feet off the ground. Spiders covered the planks. One of them dropped onto his face. He slapped it with his hand. Jeb crept to the center of the structure and opened the knapsack. Water had crept into it, and the C-4 was wet. He wondered if it would still work. He attached the bomb to a beam and set the alarm for 0915. It was done. All he had to do was to swim back the way he had come. He crawled to the edge of the house and stopped. The gator lay twenty feet away on the bank.

CHAPTER 39

The morning light grew bright, and a hot breeze blew beneath the house. Jeb lay still, alternating his gaze between the spiders and the gator and the pants cuffs of the two guards. He hoped neither of the men bent down to tie their shoes or decided to make a serious search of the area. Cars arrived. Voices and footsteps came from the porch and then from the interior of the building. He looked at his watch. 09:00. His time was running out. The gator lifted its head toward Jeb. Jeb held his breath. This was not the way he had hoped to die. ing away at age 95 in his sleep as he lay in bed with Angie seemed a far preferable alternative. The gator crawled into the water and disappeared. Jeb watched to see where it would reemerge, but not even a ripple of water betrayed its presence. Sweat dripped from his face. His heart pounded. The house was about to become an inferno. He could not stay where he was, but the water was dark, and he could not see what lay beneath it. He watched the clock progress to 9:13 and thought of the people who had jumped from the towers on 9/11. They had made the least bad of the two choices they had. He didn’t want to die in the explosion, but that seemed preferable to drowning in the jaws of an alligator. He forced himself to crawl away from the house and into the water. Two eyes appeared on the surface ten feet away. They moved toward him. Jeb scrambled out of the marsh and ran toward the guards. They drew their pistols and twirled toward him. He raised his hands and stopped. Both men fired. The gator dropped dead at Jeb’s feet as Raul ran out the door onto the porch. “What the hell!” The guards trained their weapons on Jeb and shrugged in unison. Raul stared at him. His eyes widened in recognition. “What are you doing here?”

Jeb caught his breath. “Thought we might talk—see if we could come up with some way to live and let live.” “Where’s the bitch?” “Back at the hotel. All we want is—” “I don’t give a shit what you want.” Marat barged through the doorway. He looked at Jeb and then back at Raul. “You promised to kill the creep.” “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Marat glared at the two guards. “Bring him inside.” They gripped both arms. Jeb pulled back. He knew that he would die if he entered the house. “This is between Raul and me.” Raul socked him in the gut. “Not anymore. Not when you crash a meeting of the families.” Jeb pulled back again, but the two men were strong. They dragged him toward the steps. The explosion blew the door off the house and threw Raul into Jeb, casting them both to the ground. Smoke blanketed the area, making it impossible to see. Jeb clutched his chest and rolled to one side. He pulled himself to his feet. Gunshots filled the air. He tried to run, but Raul grabbed his arm and slashed at him with a knife. Jeb avoided the blade and broke away. Raul swung again. Jeb dodged backwards and tripped over a body. He hit the ground hard. Raul swung the knife again. Jeb rolled away from the blade and jumped to his feet. Blinded by the smoke, he fell over another body and landed once more in the dirt. He couldn’t see Raul but heard the wheezes as he moved in for the kill. Jeb jumped back as the blade slashed by his face. He caught his enemy’s wrist. Raul dragged him to the ground. Jeb clung to his wrist and twisted until bone snapped. Raul screamed and tried to bite Jeb’s face. Jeb slammed his head into Raul’s nose. The knife fell to the ground. Jeb grabbed the weapon and slammed it into Raul’s heart.

Jeb inhaled soot and fumes into his lungs. He coughed and sputtered and pulled himself to his feet. The smoke cleared just enough for him to see Marat standing five feet away. He seemed unaware of the lacerations on his face and blood flowing from the deep gash on his arm. He raised his arm and pointed his pistol at Jeb’s chest. The crack of a rifle erupted from the trees across the water. Marat dropped his weapon and stumbled backwards, falling onto the dead alligator. Jeb grabbed the pistol and waited for the smoke to clear. Five bodies lay still on the ground. Flames engulfed the building. There were no survivors. Jeb jerked the knife out of Raul’s chest, threw it into the marsh, and jogged away on the dirt road. After a hundred yards, he almost collided with Angie. She threw her arms around him. “Are you all right?” He held to her like a drowning man clinging to a life vest. “Thanks to you. Where did you learn to shoot like that?” “I told you. I practiced every day.” “Did we get them all?” “Yes. Sabas and Vlad were inside with Kirill when the building exploded. You killed Raul, and I took out Marat. They’re all dead, and nobody knows we had a thing to do with it.” Jeb heard sirens approaching. “Let’s keep it that way.” He took her hand and ran with her into the woods. Moments later a police car with flashing lights flew down the dirt road toward the cabin. From the cover of a live oak tree, Jeb and Angie watched it . More cars followed. Angie pulled on Jeb’s sleeve. Let’s get out of here.” She used the com to retrace their trek through the woods. Along the way, Jeb tossed their weapons into the marsh. An hour ed before they reached the Ford. Angie cranked the motor, but waited for two more police cars and a fire truck to before pulling out of the woods onto the highway. She drove east, back toward Miami.

Another police car approached in the opposite lane. Jeb wondered if Angie would try to out run it, but she pulled to the side of the road and waited. The car sped past them, racing toward the fire.

Angie pulled into a truck stop on I-95 South. Jeb thought they should not delay getting as far away from the explosion as possible, but she grabbed her bag from Walmart and led him inside the store to the restroom area. “You need a bath.” Jeb showered and changed into a clean T-shirt and shorts. He left looking like a tourist from up north making his first trip to the Sunshine State. Angie emerged, wearing a new blouse and a short skirt. Jeb decided it was time to find a motel, but she led him back to the car. “We need to get far away from here.” “What do you have in mind?” “South America.” The southern hemisphere with Angie sounded enticing. He didn’t even think about the North Carolina boards. The police might suspect he was involved in all sorts of crimes, but they had no proof, and everyone who could testify against him was dead. Resuming his career path was possible, but Angie was what he wanted. “That sounds good to me. Maybe we’ll stay until our money runs out.” She laughed. “We’ll be dead of old age by then. the envelope I took from Papà’s safe?” “Yeah.” “It contained the numbers for his secret bank in Andorra.”

Angie drove into Fort Lauderdale. She parked the car and led Jeb into an upscale tourist agency. A young woman showed them a litany of cruises to the Panama Canal, Rio, Chile, Costa Rico, and Ecuador. The one that caught Jeb’s attention was a last-minute, discounted fare on a transatlantic cruise leaving for Barcelona at 4:30 p.m. “I’ve never been to Spain, and we both speak the language.”

Angie liked the fact that it embarked in a few hours. “We’ll take it.” She paid with cash and departed with two tickets in her hand. She drove the Ford through a car wash and took it to a large mall parking lot. Jeb helped her to wipe it clean. They left it with the windows down and the key on the seat. A cab carried them to the dock. The agent there gave their fake ports from Donato’s safe a cursory glance and directed them to the gateway. They sat on deck chairs and sipped champagne as the ship pulled away from the dock. Angie clinked her glass against Jeb’s. “Now that I have you trapped where you can’t run away, I’ll tell you my real name.” Jeb set his glass down. “You had better be kidding.” “No.” She laughed and handed him her port. Today my name is Elaine.” Jeb kissed her. “I’m glad to meet you, Elaine. I’m James. Would you like to see my room?” “Yes, I would. In fact, let’s hope you’ve been taking your vitamins, because I don’t intend to leave your room until we dock in Spain.”