Her Mistletoe Protector (3 page)

It was only after they were married for a few months that she caught a glimpse of his dark side. But by then she’d discovered she was pregnant and tried to make the marriage work.

Until she was on the receiving end of his violent temper.

“Has Frankie been living here in Chicago?” Nick pressed.

“Early on, he did, but after Anthony won his second term as state senator, Frankie moved down to Phoenix. Anthony told me that his uncle was tired of the brutal Chicago winters.”

“But you think Frankie’s back in the area?”

She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “Honestly, I haven’t kept track of Anthony’s uncle in the years since our divorce. I was lucky to get away from Anthony early in our marriage, shortly after Joey’s first birthday.” Two years of marriage that had seemed like a lifetime. “I suspect that since Anthony is dead, Frankie might have come back to take his place within the Mafia.”

“Rachel, there isn’t much of the Mafia left for him to return to,” he said. “I happen to know that Bernardo Salvatore and his right-hand man, Russo, are both dead.”

The news surprised her. “Really? How?”

He pressed his lips into a grim line. “I can’t go into details other than to tell you that I was there when they were killed. You have to consider there might be someone else besides Frankie Caruso after you.”

“I’m telling you there’s no one else I can think of,” she said, wishing he would believe her. “Besides, if Salvatore and this Russo guy are dead, then it makes even more sense to me that Frankie came back to Chicago. Clearly he wants to pick up the crime syndicate where Salvatore left off.”

“Maybe. I’ll try running a search on him,” Nick murmured. “It’s possible we’ll get lucky.”

She didn’t bother to tell Nick that she didn’t feel lucky. The thought of her son being held by the Mafia, alone and afraid, made fear clog her throat to the point she could barely breathe. Outside the passenger-side window, she stared at the holiday decorations lighting up people’s houses. Would Joey be back in time for Christmas? She couldn’t even imagine the possibility that he wouldn’t be.

Nick pulled up to a low-budget motel and secured two connecting rooms. She reluctantly took her room key from his hand, knowing she couldn’t relax, couldn’t rest.

Not until she found her son.

* * *

“Rachel?” She glanced up when she heard Nick call her name from the open doorway between their rooms.

“What is it?” she asked, rising to her feet and crossing over to meet him in the doorway.

“Are you hungry?”

She grimaced and shook her head. “No.” The mere thought of food made her nauseous. “You mentioned doing a search on Frankie Caruso. Do you have a laptop with you?”

“Yeah, I have my laptop,” Nick replied. “So far, I haven’t found much.”

Frankie Caruso was too smart to leave an obvious trail. She kept her phone gripped in her hand, unable to bear the thought of losing the small link that she had with Joey’s kidnapper. She hated to think of what her son might be suffering through right now. Why hadn’t they contacted her again? What were they waiting for? “We have to keep searching. We have to find something!”

“Rachel, I know you’re upset, but there isn’t much more I can do. If we don’t hear something soon, we’ll have no choice but to pull in the FBI.”

“No. We can’t.” The very thought of bringing in the authorities nearly made her double over in pain. “Your boss promised us some time, right? I’m sure the kidnappers will contact me soon.”

“All right.” There was a hint of disappointment in his gaze. She told herself she didn’t care what Nick thought of her. He couldn’t possibly imagine what she was going through. Or what she’d already suffered at the hands of the Mafia. She’d lived with Anthony for two long terrible years and had learned early on that confronting the Mafia directly only made them angry.

She didn’t want the man who’d kidnapped Joey to take his anger out on her son.

“I’m going to get something to eat,” Nick said over his shoulder. “Stay here and don’t let anyone in except for me.”

“Can I use your laptop while you’re gone?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

She waited for him in the doorway, gratefully taking the computer from his hands. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he said huskily, and he closed the connecting door on his side.

She opened the computer and tried to think of what little she remembered from those early days with Anthony—the places he went, the people he considered friends. She’d purposefully pushed all those bad memories out of her mind after she escaped, so dredging them up again wasn’t easy.

Typing Frank Caruso’s name into the search engine didn’t bring up many hits. She tried using Luigi Gagliano’s name too, as he was a distant cousin to Anthony.

Still nothing. And as she stared blankly at the computer, a terrible thought occurred to her.

Here she was, waiting for Joey’s kidnappers to call with some sort of ransom demand, but what if she was on the wrong track? What if Frankie didn’t want her money, but simply wanted her son?

Frankie had raised Anthony, bringing him into the world of crime at a young age. Was it possible he wanted to use Joey as a surrogate for Anthony?

Was it possible that Frankie was, right now, driving far away with her son?

Rachel’s heart rate soared as she surged to her feet. Nick had been right! They should have called the police and the FBI right away! If Frankie had kidnapped Joey for personal reasons then he already had a head start on them.

She grabbed her phone, intending to call Nick, but then forced herself to stop and think. Why would Frankie send her threatening letters, saying she would repay her debts, if he didn’t want money?

Pacing the length of the small motel room helped calm her ragged nerves. Her ankle throbbed, but she ignored it. She’d never had a panic attack like this before, not even in the dark days after Anthony had beaten her. She had to stop overreacting to every thought. Every remote possibility.

Somehow she had to be smarter than Frankie Caruso or Luigi Gagliano.

She sat down at the small desk and clicked on the mouse to reactivate Nick’s computer. There was one angle she hadn’t considered, and that was Frankie’s ex-wife, Margie Caruso. Frankie and Margie had divorced the year Rachel was pregnant with Joey, but, surprisingly, they’d stayed on friendly terms. She’d often wondered if Margie had also been involved in illegal activities; otherwise, why wouldn’t Frankie have tried to silence his ex-wife? After all, Anthony had often threatened to kill Rachel if she ratted him out.

Anthony’s threats hadn’t been empty ones, either.

And if Margie was part of the Mafia, it wasn’t a stretch to think that she could be in cahoots with Frankie on this kidnapping scheme.

A quick search revealed that Margie was still living in the Chicago area. She wrote down the address, determined to convince Nick that they needed to pay the woman a surprise visit.

THREE

N
ick couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel and Joey as he ran a few errands. He understood what Rachel was going through—he’d been inconsolable after his wife and daughter went missing, too. He knew he shouldn’t let his emotions get in the way of doing what was right, but seeing the pain etched on Rachel’s face was impossible to ignore.

After picking up some new clothes he’d put a call in to his FBI buddy, Logan Quail, only to find out his friend was out of the country on his honeymoon. No wonder Logan hadn’t returned his calls. The timing was unfortunate, since Logan’s expertise would have been perfect for Rachel’s situation.

But he’d just have to use another way to help Rachel find her son.

As he was picking up some fast food, his phone rang and he was surprised to discover that the caller was his boss, Ryan Walsh. “Hi, Captain.”

“Butler. We have some news from the crash scene you called in earlier.”

“You do?” He juggled the phone as he handed over cash and accepted the bag of food from the bored teen at the window. “What do you have?”

“We got a hit on one of the fingerprints. Perp’s name is Ricky Morales and he’s got a rap sheet, largely for drug busts, but, most recently, he was arrested for armed robbery. He just got out on bail about six months ago.”

Nick pulled away from the drive-through window and parked in the first open slot he saw. “Do you think Morales has found a home working as a thug for the Mafia?”

His boss grunted. “Don’t see why not. It’s a lead worth following since the truck is registered in his name, too. Explains why he dumped his ride as soon as he did. I’ll send his last-known address to you in an email. Where are you right now?”

“Getting something to eat.” Nick didn’t want to say too much. “We also have a possible suspect in Frankie Caruso, who happens to be Anthony Caruso’s uncle. Ms. Simon is convinced that Frankie is back to take over the Mafia.”

“What do you think?” Walsh asked.

“I think she could be right. You might want to see what you can find out about Caruso’s activities. In the meantime, we’ll start looking for leads related to Ricky Morales.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He could hear his boss scribbling notes. “Good work so far, Butler. Keep in touch.”

“I will.” Nick disconnected from the call and stared at his phone for a moment. He debated searching for Morales right now, but then decided he needed to get back to the motel. At least he had some positive news to give Rachel.

The drive didn’t take long. He grabbed the clothes and the bag of food, his mouth watering at the aroma of burgers and fries, and swiped his key card. The moment he closed the motel door behind him, he heard Rachel knocking on the connecting door.

“Coming,” he called as he reached for the door. He smiled at her. “Don’t argue, but I brought food for the both of us.”

“There’s no time to eat,” Rachel said in a rush. “Look what I’ve discovered.” She gestured to the computer screen. “Margie Caruso, Frankie’s ex-wife still lives outside of Chicago. We have to get over there right away.”

Her excitement was palpable. “Good news, but I have something to follow up on, too.” He pushed the laptop out of the way so he could haul the food out of the bag. “I’ll search while we eat.”

Rachel frowned, but he noticed she was staring at the burgers and fries as if her appetite may have returned. He bowed his head and gave a quick prayer of thanks. Rachel didn’t say anything, respecting his silent prayer, until he finished and dug into his food. “What are you following up on?” she asked.

“Sit down and eat,” he suggested.

She grimaced, but came over to sit beside him. As if she couldn’t help herself, she popped a French fry into her mouth. He waited until she surrendered to her inevitable hunger by unwrapping the second sandwich and taking a bite before telling her what his boss had uncovered.

“You think this Ricky Morales is the guy who kidnapped Joey?” she asked, her green eyes filled with hope. “I mean, that seems to be the most logical conclusion. And we should be able to find him, right?”

He nodded, even though he knew tracking Morales down wouldn’t be quite that easy. As he ate, he pulled up his email and jotted down the information his boss had sent. “Here’s his last-known address. It’s on the opposite side of town from Margie Caruso’s place.”

“It’s only eight-thirty...there’s plenty of time yet to head over to see what we can find. I need to keep busy, searching for Joey We have to find him as soon as possible!”

“We’ll check both addresses out tonight,” he assured her.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He shook his head, not wanting her gratitude. He was beginning to identify with Rachel on a personal level. Her fear tugged at his heart. He knew, only too well, what she was going through. Those hours his wife and daughter were missing had been the longest, darkest hours of his life. And when the news came in that they were both found dead in their mangled SUV at the bottom of a ravine, his grief had been overwhelming. Without his faith, he never would have survived the dark days following their deaths.

Grimly, he hoped and prayed that Rachel’s outcome would be different.
Please, Lord, keep Joey safe in Your care and guide us in finding him. Amen.

* * *

Rachel pushed away her half-eaten sandwich and the remaining cold French fries, her patience wearing thin. She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting here another minute. If she didn’t take some sort of action to help find her son, she’d go stark, raving mad.

She tapped her fingers impatiently on the table, as Nick finished his meal. “I bought a dark sweatshirt for you, since that pink one is too easily seen at night, and a new pair of athletic shoes,” he said between bites. “Also hats and gloves. Why don’t you change while I finish up?”

“Okay, thanks,” she said, reaching down for the bag of clothes. The shoes were a welcome sight, and while she loved her pink sweatshirt, she realized Nick was right about how it stood out. The black sweatshirt beneath her jacket would blend far better with the night.

She disappeared into the bathroom and quickly changed. Her left ankle was swollen, but she managed to get that shoe on by loosening the laces. The pain in her foot was nothing compared to the gaping hole in her heart.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she was grateful to see that Nick had finished his meal, disposing of all the garbage in the trash can by the door. He’d pulled on the matching black sweatshirt, too, before zipping up his jacket. He shut down the computer and then turned to her. “Ready?” he asked, rising to his feet.

“Yes.” She was more than ready. She tucked her room key into her back pocket and followed Nick out to the car. Once she was buckled in, he set his phone in the cradle where he could easily read the GPS directions.

“Where are we going first?” she asked.

“Morales lives closer,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway. “We’ll go there, first.”

She didn’t argue with his logic. Granted, it wasn’t likely that Morales would abandon his truck and take Joey to his home address listed on the registration, but, then again, criminals weren’t always known for being smart.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness as Nick drove through the night. She tensed when she noticed they were heading straight into a seedy part of town. Her stomach roiled at the thought of Joey being kept in a place where he was likely to be assaulted, or worse even, if he managed to escape.

“There it is,” Nick murmured. “Second apartment building on the right.”

“Do we know which apartment might be his?” she asked, leaning forward to see better. The dilapidated building sure wasn’t comforting. “Do you really think he would have brought a kidnapping victim here to his place?”

“Doubtful, especially if he’s working for someone else,” Nick said. “I’m going to get out here to see if I can find out if he’s still living here. Slide into the driver’s seat and head around the block. This won’t take long.”

“All right.” As soon as Nick pulled over and climbed from the vehicle, she slipped over the console and adjusted the seat so she could drive. “Be careful,” she added before he shut the door.

He nodded and then pulled his sweatshirt hood over his head and hunched his shoulders as he loped across the street to the apartment building. As much as she wanted to watch, she forced herself to put the car in gear. At the end of the block was a stop sign and she turned right. There was a small group of tough-looking kids smoking cigarettes as they gathered at the street corner, beneath a streetlight where a small Christmas wreath was hanging. As she watched them she saw the gleam of silver. A knife? Or a gun? Several of them hid their hands in their pockets as she went past, giving her the distinct impression they were hiding something. Drugs? Maybe. Swallowing hard, she made sure the doors were locked before she gripped the steering wheel tightly.

As she came around the last corner to the street where Morales’s apartment building was located, her heart sank when she saw the group of teens had moved down closer to the apartment building. Had they noticed Nick getting out of the car and going inside? What if they planned to rob him when he came out? This was a bad neighborhood, where crime ran rampant. She knew Nick carried his service weapon, but the odds were still stacked against him, especially since all six of them were likely armed, too.

She was fumbling with her cell phone, intending to call Nick to warn him, when he slipped out of the apartment building and headed down the steps. Her heart hammered in her chest as the group of kids stepped forward, cutting him off.

Nick kept his hand in the pocket of his jacket and she assumed he had his gun ready. He sidestepped the kids, but they crowded closer and once again, she caught sight of a flash of silver.

Rachel unlocked the car and leaned on the horn. The group of kids swung around in surprise, and in that split second, Nick ran around them and jumped into the car. “Go!” he shouted as he slammed the door shut.

She stomped on the accelerator and the car leaped forward. In her rearview mirror she saw the group of kids begin running after them. Did they still intend to rob them? Or worse? As she approached the stop sign up ahead, she glanced frantically both ways before ignoring the sign and going straight through the intersection without stopping.

“Take it easy,” Nick said, putting a hand on her arm as she took another turn a little too fast. “They flashed a few knives and demanded money, but we’re safe now.”

She couldn’t speak, could barely calm her racing heart enough to take a deep breath. Her entire body was shaking in the aftermath of their close call.

“Pull over up ahead,” Nick instructed.

She knew he wanted to drive and couldn’t blame him. She did as he requested, trying to hold herself together. She dragged herself out of the driver’s seat as Nick came around to meet her. He lightly clasped her shoulders, peering down at her. From the streetlight behind her, she could see the concern etched on his handsome face.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She tried to speak, but her throat felt frozen. It abruptly hit her how much she was depending on Nick to help find her son. If anything had happened to him, she’d be lost.

As much as she longed to lean against his strength, she forced herself to step back, putting distance between them. “I’m fine, but I was afraid they were going to hurt you,” she confessed softly.

“Me, too, and I didn’t really want to shoot any of them. Thanks to your quick thinking, I didn’t have to. Now let’s get going, okay?”

She nodded and went around to the passenger side of his car. “Did you find anything?” she asked, hoping the stop at the apartment building hadn’t been in vain.

“Yeah. Morales still has a place there, apartment number 210 according to the mailbox. I spoke to the manager, but he claims he hasn’t seen Ricky in weeks.”

She tried not to be too discouraged by the lack of information. Truthfully, he’d found out more than she’d hoped. “I guess that means he’s not likely keeping Joey there.”

“I doubt it. There are too many nosey people around, like those thugs back there.”

“I hardly think they’d be the types to turn Ricky in to the police,” she said with a sigh.

Nick didn’t say anything to the contrary, which only made her more depressed. “Are you still up for heading over to the ex-wife’s place?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yes.” Granted she’d been terrified back there at the apartment building, but nothing was going to stop her from searching for Joey.

* * *

Nick glanced over at Rachel, marveling at the depth of her strength. Granted, she’d been scared to death back there at the apartment building, but that hadn’t stopped her from doing what needed to be done.

He used his radio to request a search on the Morales apartment related to the hit-and-run case. The dispatcher agreed to send a couple of uniforms over. He didn’t really think they’d find anything useful, especially since the manager had been all too willing to talk once he’d seen Nick’s badge.

If Morales had been around, the manager would have told him so.

The trip to Margie Caruso’s house took about twenty minutes. Her neighborhood was several steps up from where Morales lived. At least the houses were neat and clean for the most part, several decorated with Christmas lights.

The address indicated the house they were looking for was the third one on the right. Nick slowed down as he drove past the modest red brick home with the tan trim and black shutters. The entire place was dark, not a single light on inside the place that he could see.

“What do you think? Is anyone home?” Rachel asked.

“I don’t know. It’s about nine-fifteen, so I suppose Margie could already be asleep....” But it wasn’t likely.

Maybe they were on the wrong track? Could be that Margie Caruso was living a normal peaceful life that had nothing to do with the Mafia or kidnapping Rachel’s son.

“What’s the plan?” she asked, keeping the house in sight as he drove by.

“Don’t have one yet. It’s not as if we can simply walk up and demand to search the place, even if someone answers the door.”