CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
K
YLIE’S OFFICE SUDDENLY
seemed the size of a toddler’s oxford heel. Partly because Jack and Skully were so dang imposing. Partly because an ugly truth was closing in.
After urging her to sit, Jack crossed his arms and leaned back against the file cabinet. Noah Skully perched on the corner of her desk. Shy hid under it. Apparently the dog sensed trouble. Smart dog. Kylie felt trapped, smothered, and as the U.S. marshal shared a sordid, albeit sketchy, tale about Travis’s background and the events leading up to his entering the program, her lungs squeezed tighter and tighter.
“Poor Travis,” she rasped. “And all because he’s gay?” She was incensed,
stunned
. How could his brother disown him just because he was…different? And because the judgmental bastard had vented and outed Travis, a pair of homophobe past associates had beaten him within an inch of his
life?
Her stomach turned at the thought.
Jack frowned. “Did you miss the part about Travis being the lawyer for a major mob family? An organization run by his
brother?
”
Needled by his sarcasm, Kylie leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her churning stomach. “No, I didn’t miss that part. It’s shocking and disappointing, but not nearly as shocking as what happened to him all because he didn’t live up to other people’s expectations. It’s not like he wanted to be a lawyer. He wanted to be an interior decorator. And so what if he preferred men? So what if he was different? That didn’t make him bad.”
“No,” Jack said. “Manipulating officials, bending the law so his family could get away with an array of crimes made him bad.”
“But he didn’t kill anyone,” she blurted. “Not even the man he stabbed in self-defense. Marshal Skully said that goon got away and that someone else killed him later.”
“We’re pretty sure it was Travis’s brother or someone designated by his brother,” said Skully. “Retaliation.”
“Which doesn’t make sense,” Kylie said, “since his brother disowned him.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense,” Jack said. “We’re talking about the mob and you’re missing the point.”
“Criminal behavior is not exclusive to homicide, Miss McGraw,” said Skully. “The man you’re defending may not have participated in acts of violence, but he enabled them to happen.”
Kylie resisted the urge to cover her ears. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to taint the memory of the man who’d boosted her confidence and encouraged her to trust her instincts. The man whose artistic spirit soared throughout the new and improved McGraw’s. Her gut cried that Travis had sacrificed his own dreams for the sake of family, and boy, could she empathize with that. Granted,
his
family was shady and dangerous, but it’s not as if you get to pick your parents. Or your brother. The way she saw it, between sacrificing his passions, being beaten so badly that he had to get a new face, giving up his identity and then losing his wife to cancer, Travis Martin had paid for his sins. And for some reason, Kylie needed Jack to believe that, too.
“Travis associated with bad men,” she said evenly. “Was…
is
…related to bad men. But he also did a good thing. He cooperated with the feds to protect his wife. He testified against that rival mob family. Because he had all that inside information, the government was able to incarcerate seven mobsters. Seven dangerous criminals. Five of them guilty of murder!”
She felt as if she was talking in code. A code she didn’t have the key to. Marshal Skully had revealed a portion of Travis’s past without revealing his true identity or the identity of his brother or his attackers. He’d said it was to protect her as well as Travis—if he was still alive. Which he was, not that she was inclined to share that knowledge at this moment. Would the long arm of the law stretch all the way across the Atlantic Ocean to drag Travis back? And to what end?
Jack rubbed a hand over his face, clearly struggling for patience. “Looking at this through your eyes,” he said to Kylie, “yes, Martin was a stand-up guy for the reasons you stated. But his actions weren’t selfless. By ratting on made men he broke
omertà,
an offense punishable by death.”
“By testifying, Martin not only protected his wife, but himself,” said Skully. “And as a bonus, he got revenge on the family who disfigured him.”
Kylie stood to pace off her mounting anxiety. Too much information.
I don’t want this stuff in my head
, she wanted to say. But then Jack would think she was a wimp, and he’d go out of his way to shield her from the bad stuff in his life, his work, even at the expense of bottling up his own angst. She wanted to break that habit, not encourage it.
Her caretaker instincts kicked in. Forget sticking her head in a hole. She’d suck it up, get the facts and deal—a skill she had down to an art.
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked Skully. “Especially when you specified up front that this was against policy and that I couldn’t repeat a word of this conversation to anyone.”
“Because I asked him to,” Jack said. He caught Kylie as she paced past and pulled her into his arms. “Because I know you consider Martin a friend. I thought you’d grieve his death less if I shattered your illusion of the man.”
Kylie felt her calm slipping. Guilt stabbed at her conscience. Jack was trying to protect her, to comfort her, but because she’d been secretive, his efforts were misguided. “It’s not an illusion,” she said in a small voice. “He’s a good man who did bad things, but he’s changed.”
“You keep referring to Martin in the present tense,” Skully said from behind. “Based on his history, the crime you reported, and the fact that he’s missing—”
“I’m sorry I doubted you, Tiger,” said Jack, his gaze full of remorse. “If I hadn’t dragged my feet because of my own issues, the trail wouldn’t have grown this cold. But with the help of County and now the Marshal’s Service—”
“Stop.” The reality of the situation was crushing. By buying Travis some time, she’d caused countless others, including Jack, precious effort and frustration. She placed a trembling hand to Jack’s chest. “I don’t exactly regret withholding pertinent information, because I didn’t know it would cause so much trouble. Plus, I didn’t know about the mob stuff. I just thought…I thought Travis was a good guy who’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time. He seemed so sad and I thought he deserved a shot at happiness, so I didn’t tell you about the letter, although I had every intention to today. At some point. When the time was right, which doesn’t feel like now, but the longer I wait the madder you’ll be, right?”
Jack didn’t answer, but his eyes said,
What fucking letter?
If Skully hadn’t been there, he’d probably have backed her against the wall and lectured her on the perils of withholding evidence. Then he’d have made it personal.
Why did you lie to me?
“I’m sorry.” Throat tight, Kylie backed away from Jack’s tense body and hurried toward the store’s safe. Her brain buzzed as she dialed the combo. She’d been on a roller coaster the past few days experiencing multitudes of emotional highs and lows. Just now she felt as though she was hurtling through space in a downward spiral. Falling off the water tower would have been less painful. Splat, you’re dead. Instead, she could feel the heart-wrenching demise of Jack’s trust.
“I know what I said I saw,” she rambled as she grasped the bulky envelope, “and I wasn’t lying, but I’m thinking, hoping, it was that role-playing thing, and whoever they were stuffing in the trunk wasn’t really dead, just playing dead. All I know,” she said as she straightened and faced the two somber lawmen, “is that it wasn’t Travis. It couldn’t be. He was already long gone.” And with that she plucked the handwritten letter from the envelope and passed it to Jack.
He read the note, then passed it to Skully, who read it, then glanced at Kylie. “Mind if I hang on to this?”
What was she supposed to say? No doubt he considered it evidence. “I guess you’ll want the ticket and money, too,” she said, handing the U.S. marshal the rest of the goods.
“You sound disappointed,” Jack said. “Were you planning on using them?”
His flat tone and expression broke Kylie’s heart. She knew he could be cynical, but this was cold. What had he said last night?
Numb was my comfort zone
. Was he in the zone now? It was…disconcerting.
“He wouldn’t have flown under Travis Martin,” Skully said, breaking the tense silence. “Nor under his real name. If anyone knew how to get around legalities, it was the Artful Dodger. He’d purchase a false passport, credit cards. According to that letter,” Skully said to Jack, “he could afford it. Like I said before, I was only recently assigned to T.M., but I read his files and poked around. There were rumors he’d stolen a hefty amount of cash from his brother.”
“Dirty money,” Jack said, still staring down Kylie.
I get it,
she fired back with a hot gaze.
“Wonder why he didn’t use it to take off before now?” Skully mused.
“Maybe he was worried about putting his wife at risk,” said Kylie. “No matter his sexual inclinations, it’s obvious he loved her. Now Mona’s gone and…” She trailed off, realizing she was once again defending Travis and that her efforts weren’t appreciated, especially by Jack.
“Think he made the flight?” he asked Skully.
“I think they intercepted him before he even made it out of town.”
“That’s my guess, too. How did they know he was here, dammit?”
“There’s only one explanation,” said Skully. “He broke the number one rule of the program by contacting a former associate or unprotected family member.”
Kylie snorted at the marshal’s arrogance. “How do you know one of
your
people didn’t screw up?”
“Because, Miss McGraw,” the man said, “no witness who followed the rules of the program has ever been killed.”
Someone’s phone rang—Jack’s—saving Skully from Kylie’s sharp tongue. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this anxious, this frustrated.
Oh, yeah.
Her birthday
.
To think she’d bemoaned her boring life. If she hadn’t shaken things up, if she hadn’t strode into the hardware store intent on renovating McGraw’s, she never would have disrupted Travis’s routine.
You inspired me.
Kylie swayed. Had she unwittingly stirred the hornets’ nest? Had she inspired Travis to break the program’s number one rule in order to arrange for a false passport?
“Are you all right?” Skully asked her.
She didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure.
Jack snapped his phone shut. “They found a body.”
That clinched it. She was not all right. Although he’d said
a
body, not
the
body.
“ID?” asked Skully.
“Unclear,” Jack answered without looking at Kylie. “Let’s roll.”
That command prodded Shy from beneath the desk. The dog trotted out when Jack opened the office door.
Skully started to leave, then glanced at his watch. “Your sister’s hearing,” he reminded Jack.
“Shit.”
“I’ll go.” Kylie nabbed her purse from her desk and shimmied past Jack. Jessica needed someone and Kylie was more than willing to be that person. It was better than hanging around here wondering about the identity of the dead guy. Wondering if Jack was ever going to forgive her for keeping secrets, and wondering if she could get past the cynical, cold side of him. He must’ve developed that tough edge in New York City. A survival skill. She got that. Big city, big crime, big emotional and physical stakes. But this was Eden.
A small, quiet town,
she thought.
Until you shook things up.
Kylie locked the door behind them, noted the mounting activity on the street. “Folks are gearing up for tonight’s festivities. The car and truck show always pulls in a big crowd. The carnival rides will be in full swing. Not that there’s ever been any major trouble, but the EPD has always been visible, especially on opening day.” She gestured to Andy, still sitting in the squad car across the street. “You can probably release Officer Anderson from his watchdog duties,” she said to Jack. “Seeing that you’re tied up—”
“I put Deputy Ziffel in charge of patrolling the festival. He’s got Hooper and Mrs. Vine on board. They can handle it. Anderson stays with you. He’ll escort you to the courthouse. I’ll instruct him to be discreet, but he stays.” Jack glanced at the store, at Kylie. “What about your grand opening?”
She shrugged. “It’ll wait. Friends and family before business.”
“You mean before you. Always putting others’ needs ahead of your own,” Jack said. “I used to admire that quality.”
Kylie’s stomach constricted. “And now?”
“I’m worried it’ll be your downfall.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“I
T’S LOCKED
.”
“That would account for the sign that reads Closed.” Carmine shot Dixie an annoyed look as she continued to jiggle the doorknob, then quickly bit back a curse. He wasn’t angry at her. He was angry at life. It kept kicking him in the
coglioni
. All he wanted was some kind of closure. A discussion with Kylie McGraw. A look at the work his brother had done on her store. He couldn’t even peek inside because the fucking window was draped with fucking black canvas. What the hell?
Dixie knocked, but no one answered. “She must be in the back or something. Turk said she’s been here all morning, right?”
“Last I spoke to him.” Carmine’s cell reception was spotty at best. Being out of immediate touch with his boys made him antsy. He peered up and down the two-lane street. What if the Gambellis were watching the store? Watching him? He patted the revolver holstered underneath his lightweight jacket. Acquiring the gun at a local sporting goods store had been laughingly simple. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s mosey, as they say in these parts, around to the back entrance.”
Dixie strode beside him in a pair of her sparkly
Bada-Bling!
sneakers. She’d also changed into skinny jeans and a dark blue blazer. Although tight on her curvaceous figure, at least they didn’t scream
puttana
. “I’m thinking the alley is for deliveries only, Chickie.”
He pointed to the box in her arms, a gift box containing a pair of shoes she’d made specifically for Kylie. “You’re makin’ a delivery, aren’t you?”
She giggled. “Oh, yeah.”
Not for the first time Carmine marveled at the hick town, wondering how Tommy had managed all these years. His little brother had expensive taste in clothing and cars. In Philly, he’d kept a fancy home. In Eden, he’d lived in a run-down farmhouse, driven a beat-up truck, worked in a hardware store and dressed in flannel and jeans. Buddah had given Carmine a full report after they’d searched Tommy, or rather, Travis’s home. “Unfuckingbelievable,” he muttered as he and Dixie turned down the pristine alley of a historical block.
A minute later they were knocking on the back door of McGraw’s Shoe Shoppe.
No answer.
“Fuck!”
“Honestly, Chickie,” Dixie complained. “You told me to tone it down. Said we needed to blend. I don’t think they say that word around here. Not in front of ladies, anyway.”
Carmine swallowed a rude observation and massaged his chest.
“You feelin’ okay, honey?”
He shot her a look, then turned at the sound of tires crunching on gravel. He had a story. Husband of the woman who’d created special shoes for McGraw’s. Here to surprise Kylie. Yada, yada. Only he didn’t need a story. The dark car rolled up and Mario rolled down the window.
“Where’s Buddah?” Carmine asked.
“Keeping tabs on the McGraw broad. She’s at the courthouse. He went in. I stayed in the car. Saw you drive by. Knew you’d have a wait, so I slipped into that bakery place and grabbed you some coffee.” He passed Carmine a steaming cardboard cup. “Figured you could use some caffeine.”
“Didn’t the doctor tell you to lay off that stuff?” Dixie asked.
“A cup of coffee isn’t going to kill him,” said Mario. “Stop being a nag.”
A habitual coffee drinker, Carmine drank deeply, grateful for the jolt. He grimaced at the sickenly sweet taste.
“I loaded it with sugar, Chickie. Trust me. It’s the only way to drink the beans they brew out here.”
“What about me?” Dixie pouted.
Mario passed her a bottle of diet cola.
“Aw,” she cooed. “You remembered. Thanks, Turk.”
“Sure.”
Carmine drank coffee and eyed both ends of the alley. No action coming their way. Everyone was busy window-shopping or setting up food booths and carnival games. A frickin’ Apple Festival. Who the hell celebrated apples? Dixie was eager to try the apple chips their B and B host had bragged about and to attend the car and truck show later today. Carmine was eager for answers. Now. He eyed the store. “How long you think Kylie’s going to be away?”
“No idea,” said Mario. “You wanna wait inside, Chickie?”
He was anxious to see his brother’s handiwork. He still couldn’t believe he was dead, but if he was, at least the renovations would be a reflection of him. “Yeah,” Carmine said, knowing his nephew could crack the lock. “I want in.”
When Kylie returned, he’d say the door was unlocked and they took it as an invitation. Then Dixie would distract her with shoe talk, ask her about her scare in the woods. He wanted details, and then somehow, some way he’d swing the discussion around to the guy who’d renovated the store.
“Gee, Turk, I’ve never seen you so dressed down. You almost look like one of the locals.”
“Don’t insult me.”
Carmine fought a bout of anxiety when Mario popped the lock and creaked open the back door. He kept envisioning his brother hard at work, coordinating colors and fabrics, arranging furniture, painting, draping—doing all the things he’d loved to do as a kid.
The three of them weaved their way through a cramped storage room, then into the main salon or whatever the hell you called it.
Dixie squealed when she saw the window display dedicated to
Bada-Bling!
Carmine drank coffee and admired his brother’s work. His chest tightened as he took in the impressive sight. The colorful walls and polished floors. The antique cashier counter.
He could
feel
Tommy.
His throat grew tight and dry.
More coffee.
His heart tha-dumped.
Suddenly he was no longer in McGraw’s. He was in his childhood home. Hundreds of memories flashed through his mind. Memories of two brothers. Happy memories that clouded, then clashed with painful visions.
His arm tingled, his chest hurt.
His mamma yelled,
“Make it right!”
Carmine’s knees buckled. He didn’t remember falling, but he heard Dixie scream, felt her rolling him onto his back. He blinked up, saw his nephew backing away.
“You stay here,” Mario told Dixie. “I’ll get an ambulance.” Then he was gone.
Carmine saw Dixie crying. He couldn’t hear her sobs, just the loud, slow, sparse beat of his own defective heart. “Get…help,” he croaked.
Her mouth moved. He read those luscious lips. “Turk—”
“No. You. Get…help.” He didn’t trust his nephew. Dixie, the bighearted bimbo, he trusted.
Sobbing, she scampered away.
Heart thudding slower…and slower, Carmine stared up and through the ceiling. He saw the stars, heaven. And just before the world went black, he swore he saw Tommy.
“Sorry,” Carmine mouthed.
His brother gave him hell but all Carmine could think was,
closure
.
“I
CAN’T BELIEVE HE
didn’t show up.”
Kylie gripped Jessica’s elbow as they exited the courtroom. The woman was in a daze. The judge had given Frank more than ample time to arrive. He had other cases to hear. The divorce was uncontested and only one party needed to sign the papers for the divorce to be legal and final, so…
Minutes later, Jessica Lynn was a single woman.
Kylie had been shocked and frankly a little saddened by how easy it was to end a marriage. Although, in Jessica’s case… “Maybe it’s for the best,” she said as she led the woman into the bustling hall. “I mean, did you really want to see that cheating bastard?”
Jessica looked away. “You don’t know the worst of it.”
“Something worse than engaging in multiple affairs?” Kylie whispered.
“I can’t talk about it. And you’re right. I didn’t really want to see him, but I did want, I was hoping for…”
“Closure?”
“Yes.” Jessica sank onto a wooden bench. “I need to catch my breath.”
Kylie sat next to her. “I have to say it was weird and uncomfortable, but it’s done. You’re divorced. Free to pursue a new and exciting life with Madeline.”
“We won’t be staying with Jack forever,” she said with a quick glance at Kylie. “Just for a while.”
“Don’t hurry on my behalf. It’s not like I’ll be moving in anytime soon.”
“No?”
“We had a fight. Sort of. I don’t know Jack like I thought I did.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot you don’t know about Jack and vice versa, Kylie. He’s been away a long time and you two hooked up, what, a week ago?”
Kylie tapped the toes of her blingy sneakers against the marble tile. “When you put it like that…”
“Jack’s worth fighting for.”
“Frank wasn’t,” Kylie said, hoping to ease Jessie’s mind.
The woman bolstered her bony shoulders. “If I never see that sick, cheating bastard again, it’ll be too soon.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Jessica quirked a faint smile. “Thanks for being here, Kylie.”
“It’s the least I could do for a new friend.”
The woman’s pale cheeks flushed red. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll work with me at the store or at least give it a whirl.”
Jessica blew out a breath, nodded. “I’ll give it a whirl.”
Kylie was trying to decide whether to hug the woman or shake her hand when she heard her purse ring. Well, not her purse, but her new cell phone. Had to be Jack. Kylie motioned to Jessica to give her a second, then she walked a short distance for some privacy. “Hi, I—”
“Don’t speak. Listen.”
The hairs on Kylie’s arms stood on end, her heart raced. She didn’t recognize the voice, but she sensed urgency.
Danger
.
“I’m with a friend of yours. An old guy. Max? Fucking pain in the ass. It’ll be a pleasure to pop this
cafone
and that’s exactly what I’ll do if you aren’t here within forty-five minutes.”
Kylie tried to swallow past the lump in her throat.
The goons
. They were still in Eden and they had Max. How? Why? “Where?” she whispered.
“His place. And Kylie,” the mysterious voice added, “come alone. If we see anyone, any of your cop friends, the old guy gets it.”
It sounded like dialogue from a B movie. Still… “Why should I—”
“Call anyone and we’ll know. We’re listening…and watching.”
“I don’t—”
“Get the skinny bitch to loan you her car.”
They knew she didn’t have her bike, that her car was in the shop. They knew she was with Jessica. Kylie tried to search the hall without moving her head. Were there more than two of them? Was one of them here? Or outside with binoculars? How would they know if she phoned Jack? Or alerted Andy?
“Forty-four minutes,” the ominous voice said. “Tick. Tock.”
He disconnected and Kylie flew into action. “Come to the bathroom with me,” she said to Jessica just as Officer Anderson rounded the corner with a cup of coffee. Forcing a smile, she whisked the woman down the hall. “Gotta go,” she said to Andy, squeezing her legs together for effect as she steered her companion into the ladies’ room.
Andy rolled his eyes, blushed. He was probably thinking about her in the stall—bottom half naked.
The main door shut and Jessica whirled. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to borrow your car. It’s an emergency.”
The woman dug in her purse and handed Kylie her keys.
“Thank you.” Kylie willed her trembling hands and galloping heart steady. “I also need you to distract Andy. Jack told him to stick to me like glue.”
“What’s going on, Kylie?”
“Please, just—”
“Okay. No problem,” Jessica said. “I’ll distract Andy.”
“Give me a ten-minute start, then tell Andy to call Jack. They’re going to pop Max if I don’t show. Tell him I had no choice, to hurry, but to be discreet.”
Jessica wet her lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Jack will. Tell him Max’s house.” She nudged Jessica toward the door. “Now, go do your thing with Andy.”
“Anything for a friend,” Jessica said as she took a breath and eased out the door. “Be careful, Kylie.”
“Always.” The minute the door shut, Kylie sprinted for the window, grateful they were on the first floor and that she was wearing sneakers. She squeezed through the open pane and race-walked for the parking lot. She hoped Jessica’s fancy SUV was fast. She was down to forty-one minutes and she couldn’t speed until she got out of town.
“Hang on, Max. And whatever you do, don’t spit on his shoes.” She hopped into her borrowed wheels and revved the engine. She knew it was crazy, walking into the hornets’ nest, but those goons wouldn’t be in Eden if she hadn’t stirred things up. No way was she going to let Max Grogan pay for her restless, reckless actions. On the other hand, she knew she was no match for a couple of gun-toting wiseguys. Hence ignoring their warning and alerting Jack. He’d know what to do. He was used to dealing with mobsters. She just needed to keep her and Max alive until he got there. She could do that. Get them talking, keep them talking. Shoes. One of them had a thing for shoes. She could talk about shoes until the cows came home.
Travis popped into her head. He’d had a way with words, a gift for distracting her from her worries. For the first time since she’d learned about his mob ties, Kylie reflected on what he really used to do. She thought about the episode she’d watched of
Omertà
, remembered how she’d told Jack she couldn’t stomach the violence and how he noted that it didn’t compare to the real thing.
For the first time and to her dismay, Kylie had unkind thoughts about Travis Martin.