No Time to Hide
Authors: Karen Troxel
No Time To Hide
By
Karen Troxel
Copyright © 2008, 2016 by Karen Troxel Borrelli
All Rights Reserved
Cover Art © 2016 by Lacey Savage
Author Note: This story was previously released in 2008.
Dom Giancarlo sat under the bright fluorescent light and read a passage from Dante. The noise of two inmates fighting over who had right-of-way on the weightlifting machines was starting to annoy him. But he could be benevolent a short while longer.
When Dom had first arrived in the general population at Fort Dix, he had ruled this ward by his father’s reputation. After only a few short weeks inside, his reputation had superseded the man who came before him. Dom smiled at the thought. Power was, after all, the greatest aphrodisiac. It was better than any chemical, man-made or natural. It was a close second to sex because, done right, sex was all about power. He shook away the immediate picture that popped in his head. She was blonde, small, weak. No, no…going there would only weaken him when he had to be strong.
He slowly brought himself back to the present. The noise was starting to grate. He took a deep breath and reminded himself of his role here.
He was a strong, but fair, master of these men. And they responded in kind. Fear, Dom had learned early in life, was a great motivator. And he believed in keeping the motivation of everyone around him at the highest level possible, ready to kill or be killed at a moment’s notice. The result was a kind of respect from desperate men that sometimes bordered on worship. For some men, that kind of pressure would have been overwhelming. For Dom, it was as necessary as food or water. Dom remembered a nun in the parish school preaching that cleanliness was next to Godliness. Although Dom couldn’t abide with anything unclean, he knew the nun had been full of shit. Nothing was next to Godliness. Only those who had discovered Godliness would know what he meant.
Dom took everything these men, and all the others, adoringly gave him as his due. He was the heir apparent to the Giancarlo Empire. He was the chosen one. He was the next family godfather.
This small inconvenience of being incarcerated for tax fraud just added to his resume. It gave him the perspective of what men who were stupid or careless faced if they were caught. It also gave him a good working knowledge of the kind of skills a man could learn on the inside. And a working knowledge of those skills would make him that much better when he was outside and needed to evaluate the talent of the people working for him.
It was the person who had been the bulk of the government’s case against him who caused the sting of betrayal. He had trusted—no, that wasn’t the correct word. He had
assumed
the power he wielded would ensure loyalty. Being here was an effective learning tool. He would never trust or assume loyalty was a given again. In the future, he would assure no one would turn on him.
But Dom prided himself on the fact he never made the same mistake twice. This mistake would also be rectified. It would take time and patience. He just had to be patient for a short while longer.
He closed his eyes when her face rose again in his mind. Then he smiled when he thought of that face pinched in grief, etched with pain.
Patience
, he told himself.
Patience.
Being in prison wasn’t so bad really. While his loss of total freedom chafed, it would also help solidify his standing among some of the older, more traditional lieutenants in his family business. The ones who felt he hadn’t experienced quite enough reality to take over the reins of such an influential enterprise as the Giancarlo interests. Dom either laughed at the old-timers or listened indulgently, depending on his mood.
Dom had been educated at the best schools. He had a Masters of Business Administration from Harvard, a law degree from Yale, and one in philosophy from Oxford. The most important degree was from the streets, and he considered the others not worth much more than the paper they were written on. He amended that thought. They were worth something because they gave him a level of sophistication and polish his old man had never achieved. Dom, not his father, was welcomed in all the best restaurants and bars up and down the east coast.
In fact, he had everything. He had bedded stars and whores alike and learned early on that the only difference was the kind of luck either had enjoyed. He’d been close to tasting innocence, savoring it, then controlling it.
No, don’t go down that road. It just stretches your patience.
Now he knew what it was like to survive the boredom and tedium of prison life. Once he was a free again, this time would make him a better leader, make the men who followed him stand a little straighter, jump a little quicker. Dom smiled at the thought. Yes, a little easy time in stir went a long way in his world.
He went back to Dante. He had been forced to wait on this book to be delivered to him from the outside. The pitiful prison library didn’t compare to Dante and his ilk. The best the library had been able to do was a comic book version of Moby Dick. He’d already handled that, giving orders to his attorney to have his mother make a sizable donation to the library fund.
No wonder men who came to their organization for work after being released from prison had little more sense than God gave a goose. How could they better themselves without any opportunities? It was simply unacceptable.
The argument behind him got a little more heated. He set his book down with care, making sure none of the pages were creased, and turned his head so he could see the two involved. This was getting unacceptable as well.
One of his lieutenants moved from the area outside his peripheral vision, but he shook his head and raised his hand. He enjoyed the pleasure of seeing fear on faces of men who showed no such emotion otherwise.
The two combatants had been sniping at each other a lot in the last few days. His sources told him the two had had a lovers’ spat.
He curled his lip in disgust. Two men together was more than distasteful. It went against all the laws of man and nature. But there was no accounting for sexual tastes. His own would make his old man blush. Still, he really couldn’t allow this interruption into his prized private time.
The other men in the recreation area must have realized his anger. All noise had stopped. The two arguing men looked around, realizing who they were bothering.
“Sorry, Mr. Giancarlo,” said the larger of the two.
“Yeah, sorry, sir,” mumbled the other.
“That’s fine. Just don’t let it happen again.”
“No, sir,” they chimed in unison before scuttling off.
Dom settled back down on his bench and turned his attention back to Dante, frowning when he heard the scratchy sound that warned of a pending announcement from the guard quarters. No silly announcement from the warden could be worth this interruption. Dom really had to talk to the man and make certain he understood how important this time was. All messages over the loudspeaker would be discontinued after today. The warden wouldn’t dare disobey him.
“Visitor for Dom Giancarlo. Visitor for Dom Giancarlo,” the disembodied voice chanted.
Dom looked at his watch. Ah, it was later than he thought. He picked up Dante, stood, and walked to the gate. He had some business he needed his attorney to handle. It was business that had, regretfully, been put on hold for much too long. Things had been progressing smoothly early on, but the last few reports had been disturbing. There seemed to be a hitch in bringing the entire plan online. He despised hitches. There was really no excuse for them. Maybe this particular hitch would only need a little persuasion in the right places.
Perhaps the green form of persuasion would be the most effective. If it wasn’t, there were other ways to choose.
Dom had a moment’s regret that time had marched on. Sometimes he mourned for his younger days when he’d been able to handle those other ways personally. It had been so liberating to feel bone break through skin with just the right pressure flowing from his arms and hands.
But Dom had learned the lessons of his world well. Now he kept his hands clean. There were others in his organization better suited and less important in the overall scheme of things to handle those jobs.
***
There was no question. The very large man with the dark hair and pale skin was following her.
Kimberly Sullivan tried not to allow the feeling of desperation to overwhelm her. She had hoped she’d be safe here. They’d promised that Kimberly Sullivan would be an unbreakable ID.
They were wrong.
Kerry—no, she had to remember she was Kimberly now—walked into the crowded shopping mall’s food court entrance looking for the ladies’ restroom. She’d made the call on her cell from her car. The people she spoke to, always nameless, always faceless, had told her not to return home. As if she didn’t know that, as if that hadn’t been drilled into her head from the first moment she’d become a part of the witness security program, better known as WitSec by the marshals. She’d always thought it was called the witness protection program. The name didn’t disguise what it really was—prison—with no possibility of parole. Of course, people in her other life called it something else—snitch. She was so tired of all this. No matter how good the identity, no matter how normal the town, she always seemed to be looking over her shoulder. She was beginning to believe her biggest problem had been in trusting the wrong people. Again.
She didn’t know how much longer she could stand this. But she knew, stand it she would. What other choice did she have?
Kerry didn’t dare look over her shoulder. The man’s face was already imprinted on her mind. So were the other details her contact would need.
He had a two-inch scar on the back of his right hand. It wasn’t new, but it wasn’t very old. His charcoal gray Italian-cut suit was out of place in this small resort town and did nothing to hide either his paunch from years of eating too much pasta or the weapon strapped at his side. Or perhaps she was so used to seeing the kind of man he was that she noticed things other people, normal people, didn’t.
At any rate, his face was imprinted onto her memory.
So far, he’d followed her to the dry cleaners, the video store, and now the outlet mall. He hadn’t approached her, but Kerry knew, deep in her bones, deep in the shadowed spot where the fear dwelled, waiting, ready to reach out a deadly tentacle, it was only a matter of time.
She’d spent the three weeks she’d lived here in the northwest taking online classes in stress management. What a joke. A sob bubbled nervously in her throat. How could any self-help chants deal with this?
She had to get into the ladies’ room, lock the stall door, and wait. Wait for help.
His hand touched her arm, and Kerry felt the fear she’d managed to temporarily control, the fear that was her constant companion, rise up in a gigantic wave.
Oh God, what now? What now?
She thought she’d been safe. They’d promised she would be safe. In that instant, that terrible instant, Kerry knew she’d never be safe. She felt the wave of fear engulf her.
Three months later
Saturday, 10 A.M.
“Excuse me, miss? I think you dropped this.”
Kerry turned and looked at a man with the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen. She felt a quick spurt of fear, then firmed her resolve and let the thrill of his skin touching her arm run over her as she quickly took in the rest of him.
At least four inches taller than her five-foot-nine inches, he had the slim, athletic build of a swimmer. He was wearing khaki-colored chinos with a floral-striped, short-sleeve shirt and, on his sockless feet, brown Docksiders. He also had the golden brown tan of someone who enjoyed an active outdoors life.
It was his eyes, though, that could make a girl stop and dream. Kerry felt the little flutter inside her move to the pit of her stomach. The flutter was a huge part fear. There was also something else she couldn’t quite get a handle on.
When she realized she’d been staring and he was waiting patiently, she felt the blood rush to her face. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
He laughed a little. “I think you dropped this.”
Kerry looked at the hand he held out. It was a perfect accompaniment to the rest of him—tanned a deep brown, the veins slightly raised, showing the heat of the waning western New York summer. There were a few nicks and scratches as well. He could be a mechanic. Or perhaps he was a craftsman. He had the eyes, the face of an artist or a poet. But definitely not the body. His body made her mouth water and places deep inside her swell. It had been so long, so terribly long since she’d felt warm, human male flesh inside her.
“Miss, miss?” his voice jolted her again.
She looked down and realized he was holding out the plastic shopping bag holding her new pay-as-you-go cell phone. She tore her gaze from his and looked through the armful of shopping bags she carried. “Oh, yes, I did drop it. Thank you.”
“Believe me, it’s my pleasure.” The man’s eyes sparkled and drew hers like a magnet. “You know, this is going to sound like such a pickup line I’m almost ashamed to say it, but you look familiar to me. Have we met before?”
Kerry shook her head. She would have certainly remembered meeting this man. The gentle friendliness he exuded and that sparkled in his eyes was something she yearned for.
“That’s worse than a line, isn’t it?”
His slow smile warmed her all the way to the core.
“Well, anyway, you certainly do look familiar. I’m Cutter Snead, by the way.”
“Hello.” Again, she hesitated. For a second, just a second, some of her old fears and insecurities arose, but she shook them off. She’d been in Buffalo, New York for almost three months, a personal record, with no problems. She had to get on with her life. Perhaps this time she was truly safe. And she had set some things in motion. They weren’t completely in place, but she was tired of hiding inside her apartment like a timid bird. That was the reason she’d ventured out in public on a busy weekend.
“I’m Kerry. Kerry S-Simpson.” Would he notice the slight hesitation, the tiny stutter over her name?
“Kerry. No, you’re right. We’ve never met. I only know one Kerry and she’s a dowdy matron. You’re definitely not her.”
Again, the twinkle in his eyes was infectious. He pointed to a little coffee and dessert stand.
“Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee? They make the best in town. And, yes, that was a pickup line.”
Kerry laughed. It was impossible not to. Despite her past, she had never been one to take a gamble. Looking at Cutter, she decided it was time she changed that. She was twenty-five years old. It was time to start living, time to stop acting like a scared girl. She was woman. She’d stand proud. Her mousey days were over. She was going to live her life freely, like any other modern single woman. She would handle whatever happened.
“Please don’t say no or I’ll have to hold you hostage.”
Kerry stopped. Had she made a horrible mistake? When she’d entered the mall, she’d made a mental note of all the exits. Sadly, now they were in the middle of the complex. The nearest exit was too far away for comfort. Still, as her pulse kicked up a notch, as her palms began to sweat, she looked over her shoulder seeking any avenue of escape. There were weekend shoppers all around them. Perhaps if she screamed it would draw enough attention she could get away.
But then more than just this stranger would be able to describe her to anyone—police, the media, or worse—who asked.
Wait, he was only one man. A strong man. A man whose touch had once thrilled her and now chilled her to the bone. She could get away. All she had to do was use the ultimate woman’s defense against a man—a swift knee to the crotch. She gagged at the thought of what would happen if she were unsuccessful in her attempt to get free. Would anyone in this very public, busy mall give a damn if he hauled her away?
Feeling the fear rise through her throat until she could barely draw breath into her lungs, she tried to stall for time, all the while gathering her strength and courage to do what she must.
“Hostage?” she gasped.
“Yes, I’ll hold your electronics hostage and then you’ll be totally lost and invisible.”
Kerry took a deep breath and laughed, relaxing slightly. She felt foolish at letting such an innocent phrase send her rolling into a near panic attack. “For a minute I thought you had some kind of fetish. I was thinking of calling mall security.”
Cutter laughed. “There’s a scary thought.” He then nodded to the two young men wearing the uniform of mall security, who were busy flirting with a girl working in a key chain kiosk. “How about it? Will you join me?”
“Why not? But I should warn you there’s a flaw in your hostage plan.”
If possible, Cutter’s smile deepened. He cupped her elbow and led her over to the small stand. “Impossible. I’ve got all the angles figured out. You don’t look like the type to adapt to a life of anonymity.”
Kerry stiffened. Was he teasing or did he really know? She anxiously looked around, wondering if she should exercise the greater part of valor and make her escape now. She looked again at Cutter. No, this was the time for her to make her stand. She squared her shoulders and smiled. She could do this. She
would
do this. If only he knew how close to the truth he was.
“Okay, but don’t complain when your plan is a bust. Remember, I warned you.”
He smiled again. “That’s a promise. Now, what would you like?”
How could she not trust that smile? “A decaf, please.”
“How about a pastry or a cinnamon roll?”
“No, just the coffee.”
“Boy, you’re a cheap date,” he said, then gave her order, along with his for a regular with extra cream to the teenager working behind the counter. “I don’t consider this a real date. But I’m hoping to rectify the situation. So much so I could probably be persuaded to spring for dinner—at a real restaurant.”
Kerry laughed. The last date she’d been on had been almost two years ago. She pushed that picture from her mind because she definitely didn’t want to go down memory lane.
After getting their drinks, they chose a table from among the bunch clustered in the middle of the food court and sat.
“Are you visiting our pleasant corner of the world?” Cutter asked.
“No, but I’ve only lived here a short time.”
“That’s interesting. What made you decide to pick Buffalo? Most people who only know about it because of the headlines about blizzards, think of it as a place to be avoided like the plague.”
Kerry laughed. “It isn’t that bad,” she protested.
“Right. Don’t you watch late-night television? Buffalo has a worse reputation than anywhere. Well, except Burbank. Maybe.”
Kerry laughed again. “Yes, but what about you? Have you lived here your whole life?”
“Sometimes it feels that way,” Cutter said.
His smile was so warm it invited Kerry to relax and enjoy the easy camaraderie he was offering. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself that luxury.
“Actually, I’ve only been here ten years or so.”
“Well, that certainly qualifies you as an expert in my opinion. What do you do for a living? Besides make coffee dates on a whim in the mall?”
“I’m a high school baseball coach,” he said. “We just finished our first season.”
“Really? That must be rewarding.” Kerry tried to keep her mind on the conversation and not the warmth of his eyes and smile. They warmed her like a blazing fire on a cold winter’s night. That’s what her life had felt like for so long—a cold, endless winter night.
“I don’t know about that.” He frowned. “We only won two games this year. We played twenty. We had no pitching. Actually, we had no pitching, no hitting, and very little defense.”
Kerry laughed at the look of pained embarrassment on his face.
“Hey,” he responded in mock anger, “you wouldn’t think it was funny if you’d seen it.”
“No, I’m sure I wouldn’t.” Kerry felt the laughter bubble outrageously. “Look on the bright side. There’s always next year.”
“That could be even worse since we lost our best players to graduation,” he mourned, then began a story about some of the more memorable moments of the past season.
Kerry laughed as he talked, feeling all the tension drain from her.
She was going to be okay. She felt it deep in her bones. This had been an experiment. It was the first time she’d gone out on a busy Saturday since she’d lived here. Prior to today, she’d kept her errands to phone or mail requests, Internet purchases, or visiting stores that offered twenty-four-hour shopping—and only those on off-peak days like Monday or Tuesday in the sleepy hours between three and four in the morning.
But finally, today, she woke up determined to quit living her life in a shell. Screwing up her courage and throwing away her tinted glasses—her disguise as she called it—she had headed to the mall nearest her apartment. She’d be anonymous for most of her life. That was going end to today with this simple trip to the mall.
Looking at Cutter now as he motioned with his hands and smiled with his eyes as he talked, Kerry was glad she did.
“So when are you going to tell me why you think my plan of phone-napping is flawed?” he asked, leaning toward her.
She shrugged. “You seem like you’re enjoying yourself. I didn’t want to ruin it with the bad news.”
He looked considering. “Now you’ve got my curiosity aroused. Come on, give it up or I’ll have to take drastic measures.”
Kerry laughed. “Oh, I think you’ll survive. Besides, it’ll be good for you to have to figure it out.”
***
Cutter looked at Kerry as she laughed at some of his stories, pleased she didn’t look quite so hunted now. He should have identified himself from the first, but she’d looked like a scared little rabbit. So when she’d dropped one of packages, he’d come up with the lame casual guy looking for girl meeting in hopes of getting her to relax. It was working. The dossier had been complete, with all of her photo IDs. According to reports, she had been staying completely undercover since her arrival in Buffalo.
When his office had received the tip about the leak of her location and new identity to the bad guys, they had no choice but to move quickly. He and his partner, Johnson, had been assigned to pick her up, then keep her under wraps until the placement boys could figure out the next step.
But when they’d arrived, they’d seen her leaving her building. Cutter and Johnson had drawn cigarettes. He’d lost.
Johnson was searching her apartment. He’d gotten tail duty.
Never mind that it was one gorgeous tail to watch. Cutter didn’t like the whole situation. This was exactly the reason he was leaving the service—having to look after women like this. There was also the other thing brewing under the surface at the office that made him sick to his stomach. He may never see the resolution of that because he was just too damn tired to fight anymore.
Kerry Bonaface, alias Kimberly Sullivan, alias Kelsey Bates, and now alias Kerry Simpson, was a daughter of the mob. Her daddy had been the number-one hit man and general runner for one of the most prolific crime families on the east coast.
She’d gotten her strawberry blonde looks from her mother’s Scandinavian heritage and, upon her return from finishing school, had met the number one Giancarlo son. Dominic. Cutter frowned. He’d dealt with and brought down a lot of ruthless criminals in his years of service, but just reading the file on Dominic Giancarlo had sent all of Cutter’s instincts on red alert.
How anyone could mistake the young Giancarlo for anything other than a ruthless killer, Cutter didn’t know. But he guessed when your career choice was hit man, there weren’t a lot of choices in the marrying pool for your daughter.
At any rate, their information said all it had taken was one glance at the comely Kerry and Dominic had been smitten. With the reluctant approval of his family, Kerry was to be the vessel for the next generation’s seeds.
According to their information, everything had been lovey-dovey with the young couple. Right up until the moment when Kerry had heard her fiancé order her father’s death. She’d rushed to the local police, who’d dragged their feet finding Kerry’s daddy. By the time they’d arrived at the Bonaface house, Daddy was gone like a feather on the wind, leaving behind a ransacked house and a blood-soaked section of carpeting. No one was sure if he left on his own or whether foul play was involved.