Family Treed (3 page)

“Claude?” Nell wasn't happy to realize she'd said this out loud. Did the old man know Nell had the St. Cyr ring? He could. Bad guys always knew things they shouldn't.

Into a small silence no one seemed to want to break, Alex said, “Claude St. Cyr. The heir.”

“Oh.” At least she wasn't the only to mess up the seating.

Nell had sort of expected someone—or someone's lawyer—to show up demanding the ring. Only no one had. Surely this Claude wasn't afraid she'd declare herself the evil overlord of the St. Cyr crime empire? He couldn't think the ring totally trumped the legal crap could he? She stared hard at her plate, pushing food she didn't recognize from one side to the other.

“He wanted to come,” Mirabelle said, a thread of iron in her voice. “But business is business.”

Had any of them really wanted to come? It all felt wrong and so not neutral ground. More like sticking your head into the Wolf's maw.

“What troubles you, little cousin?” Guido asked

Nell smoothed the frown and decided to overlook “little.” The accent helped it not sound totally condescending. “I just thought it would all be more—” Nell had meant to say Sopranos, but Alex coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. So they were all pretending they weren't a bunch of bad-a crooks? Okay. “….there would be more rivalry between you all. Competing business interests and all,” she finished, a bit lamely.

“We all run in the same social circles,” Mirabelle said. “And we've known each other for forever.” She gave Dimitri a special smile that seemed to indicate the knowing had gone pretty far. Or she hoped it would “I'm a bit surprised you haven't popped up in our circle, cousin? Now that you know.”

Nell could arch her Botox-free brows and did. “I was at the Children's Center fund raiser last Friday night.” Nell's smile was fake guileless. “I thought the food was particularly good. They should always use that caterer.”

Mirabelle blinked a bit. Not that Nell was surprised she didn't know Nell had worked the event as a wait for Sarah's company.

Dimitri grinned, looking almost human. “The food was especially good that night.”

“How odd to think we were all there and didn't know each other.” Cinzia fluttered her lashes at Dimitri. “So kind of you and Aleksi to bring us together like this.”

Clever. Not everyone could use the high ground to look better—and down on—someone. Mirabelle's fingers curled into claws. Good thing they were on the other side of the table. If a cat fight broke out, Nell did not want to be between them.

“It was our pleasure,” Dimitri said, like he meant it.

Pleasure? They were enjoying this? Because destroying lives and amassing ill-gotten wealth wasn't enough of a buzz?

“Family is important,” Guido said. He smiled at her and for a second she forgot he might be a bad guy and returned the smile. His lids drooped a bit, as if to mask a sudden gleam of satisfaction. So he was pretending to like her, but why? She had nothing they could possibly want.

“Family is everything,” the old man said flatly.

Okay. Nell addressed her attention to her food as little murmurs of assent rippled around the table.

“We're all hoping this won't be our only meeting, Nell. May I call you Nell?” Cinzia asked, like she really wanted to know. Mirabelle gave a slight, very slight snort.

“Of course.” Nell didn't mind, though she'd prefer they didn't call her ever.

Dimitri appeared delighted, giving each woman a look of approval. The two women basked in their turn, then engaged in some polite staring when his attention moved on. Did they have hopes for a dynastic marriage with him?

“We're so looking forward to introducing you to your friends, Nell,” Guido said, his amused glance seeming to read her thoughts and confirm them.

Dimitri lifted his glass. “To Nell. She was lost, but now is found.”

Not exactly something to celebrate. A month ago, she would have hated the attention. Okay, she still hated it, but she hid it better. She hoped. Alex lifted his water bottle, a bit ironically, it seemed. Her gal cousins didn't look thrilled at the toast. Of the two, Mirabelle had the harder time hiding her discontent, but at what? They were actual mafia princesses. Nell wasn't even a wannabe. Nell stole a peek at the old man. Afoniki looked like a shriveled slug sitting there watching them. His pale eyes gleamed with what might be pleasure, but why? What was it that tickled his evil fancy? Why had he invited her here? He'd have a reason, even if it was a crazy old, bad guy reason.

“Thanks,” Nell muttered, then looked down at her plate. “This is delicious.” She hadn't actually tasted it yet, so she shoved a small bite between tense lips, so it wouldn't be a lie—and the thin edge of the wedge.

When the silence had turned a bit tense, Dimitri broke it. “Since our last meeting, I found time to read your book.”

Was she supposed to be impressed he'd managed to work his way through a children's book in just under a month? Nell had learned not to ask, “Did you like it,” but hadn't come up with an alternative yet. It was Mirabelle who saved her, though Nell was pretty sure she hadn't meant to.

“You wrote a book?”

There was polite disbelief Nell had managed to write a book and the implication that only one book was not something to brag about.

“She writes children's books,” Guido said, trying out another intimate smile on Nell, “about an artichoke.”

A pregnant pause while they processed this. Another while they tried to figure out what to say about it.

“Do you write under your own name?” Cinzia asked, managing to be bitchy without sounding bitchy.

“Just my last name,” Nell said. Mirabelle opened her mouth but Nell forestalled her. “Whitby.”

Nell had chosen to use her last name as a sort of homage to her parents. Of course, when she did it, she didn't know the name was as fictional as her artichoke. Her world shifted under her feet. Had done that a lot lately. She took a drink of her water to hide it. Don't let them see you sweat, her dad used to tell her. If she sweated now, it would form icicles on her skin and they'd for sure see it.

“You could take the family name,” Guido said.

“That would pop you out of the pack,” Cinzia added.

Which family name? And how flattering they thought she needed popping out.

“Or you could marry,” Dimitri put in smoothly.

In the suddenly weighted silence, the lights flickered ominously and the explosion of thunder rattled the chandelier and table glassware.

It really was a dark and stormy night.

Nell knew Dimitri watched her, but didn't know why. Was he mocking her because her parents' marriage probably hadn't been legal? That the name she used wasn't hers either?

“Perhaps,” the old man said, “history will repeat itself.”

“Jeez Louise,” Nell said involuntarily, thinking of her parents who'd almost been blown up, and the whole teenage pregnancy thing. Not that she could have a teen pregnancy at thirty-two but… “I hope not.”

“I'm sure you will make a better choice than your grandmother.” The old man's words fell into the gap between another round of thunder.

For some reason, the storm seemed louder all the sudden, as if it wanted the party over, too. Nell could think of several responses to this—none of them polite. Finally Nell met his gaze with as much firm as she could muster. “I will.”

Alex shifted, as if he wanted to say something, but was restraining himself. She'd liked to have looked at him. Could have used one of his reassuring smiles right now, but she seemed to have lost the ability to look at him. Or she was afraid to? Was she afraid of what she'd see in his face?

As if he knew, the old man looked at Alex. “How is Zach? He retired a few years ago, did he not?”

“He's fine.” Alex's tone was clipped.

“I was older, of course.” His voice turned reflective, like an ordinary old guy. “Knew Charlie better.”

Nell stiffened. Suspected Alex did, too.

“Of course, we didn't run in the same circles. He played football. I…didn't.”

He probably beat people up and sold drugs. A totally different “letter” jacket.

His chilly gaze traveled from Alex to Nell, then back again. “I liked Charlie.”

Alex's face hadn't changed, but there was a rigidity to his shoulders that spoke of tight control.

“You have the look of Charlie,” Aleksi added.

Family is everything.

Was that the message of this evening? Nell might not really be one of them, but she'd never be part of Alex's life because of Charlie?

Family is everything.

Alex's family was tight. She hadn't met many of his siblings, but she'd seen, she'd felt the connection, the love, the loyalty. She'd envied it. She'd…wanted it? In this big, cold room with a grand canyon between them, Nell realized two things.

That she might be more involved with Alex than she'd let herself realize.

And that even if her relations were pretending to like her, they wouldn't want Alex in her life simply because he was a cop. The son of cops. Since she'd walked through the door, they'd been dividing them, reminding Alex of who and what she came from. Reminding her of what she'd lost.

And what did they want for her? Guido had been tempting her with the allure of having family again, while the old man, well, it felt like he taunted her. Taunts were more his style.

She stared down at the food, her stomach roiling. Had there been more than pot stirring? Not just “remember Charlie,” but don't be Charlie? Because you could disappear, too. Just walk away. That's all he had to do. His family ranks would close around him. He'd be safe. How could she blame him? He hadn't known her that long. Spending time with her could put not just him, but his family at risk. Again. And she'd be…

Alone.

Her parents had each other when they'd disappeared all those years ago. She didn't know why these people wanted her alone, isolated from support. Maybe they got their kicks from it. It didn't matter why. They did. Would they run off Sarah, too? Or try to suck her into the slime?

Alone.

Her chest tight, she had a sense that someone was saying something, but she couldn't hear. It wasn't just the thunder. There was a roaring sound inside her head, inside her heart.

And that's when it finally happened.

A shot rang out.

A
lex heard
the shot and saw the flash off to his left, where Nell sat. He dove for her, knocking her to the floor. The hard, unyielding floor. Felt her breath go out as they hit marble, cuz he sure couldn't hear it over thunderclap.

And then he heard the sound of glass breaking…

…the thunder sounded louder with the windows gone…

…But it got swallowed up in sound of gunfire as some semi-autos opened up.

He tried to shield Nell, groped for his weapon, but it was not right time to fire back. Not yet. His muzzle flash would give away their position.

Bullets chewed across the tabletop, spraying glassware and food in every direction.

Then slammed into wall above them. Near as he could tell, shooters were determined to write with bullets in both directions. And then back again.

Air was thick with plaster dust and smoke.

Throw in thunder as background. Lightning. And the shooters.

A total Charlie Foxtrot.

Except…

Alex frowned. Didn't seem like anyone was shooting back. And the pattern of the shots seemed odd, though conditions were bad for an accurate assessment. Seemed like some shots ought to be hitting marble and ricocheting around. One shooter did take out a chandelier. It smashed into the tabletop with a crash.

And then it stopped.

The shooting, not the storm.

Through a couple of lightning flashes, Alex tensed, waiting for round two.

Rain splattered against the marble floor. Outside smells mingled with the smell of food and cordite.

Cautiously he lifted his head, then came to his knees beside Nell, his body between her and where the shooting had come from, but his head still below the table. He popped up for a quick look. Lightning flash confirmed shattering of food and dishes. Oh well, he'd lost his appetite anyway.

And then he noted wide eyes peering over the edge of the table at nine, eleven, twelve, and one o'clocks, and another set over at three o'clock. He did a mental count. Then did it again. All that shooting and not a single casualty? Not even the old man? How was that possible—his heart jerked and his breathing stalled.

Nell.

As abruptly as they'd gone out, the lights flickered a couple of times, then stayed on. Nell lay where he'd left her, seemingly not moving.

The first shot.

He turned, panic clawing up his throat, but before he reached her, she moved. Shifted, flexed her legs and arms, groaned and then rolled over.