Authors: Jessie Keane
‘Phone him. Tell him to stay away until we’ve got this sorted.’
After Ellie had contacted Chris, Max phoned Ginge; he’d been in the bomb disposal unit during the war but after that he’d drifted into the more lucrative field of safe-cracking. He was a Carter boy through and through: sound as a pound; he’d cracked open the Palermo Lounge safe once for Annie, and officiated at more heists than you could shake a stick at.
Ginge was there within fifteen minutes of Max’s call. He was pushing sixty, tall, with thinning ginger-white hair, a pot belly and a long, hawkish face. He carried a Gladstone bag with him, and eyed the parcel on the doorstep as if it was a great treat, an enjoyable piece of puzzlement he couldn’t wait to unravel.
‘And she thinks it’s a bomb, why?’ he asked Max at the door, while Annie, Ellie and the girls cringed out back.
Annie had explained this to Max, even though she could barely speak because her teeth were chattering so hard with fear.
He’d nearly picked it up. She couldn’t get over that. If she hadn’t opened the door to secretly watch him, he
would
have.
‘It’s identical to one that went off before, in the States,’ Max told him.
‘Leave me with it then,’ said Ginge, and opened his bag of tricks and set to work.
Nearly an hour later, Ginge came and knocked on the kitchen door. Max opened it.
‘Was it?’ Max asked.
‘A bomb?’ Ginge shook his head as if disappointed. ‘Nah, Mr Carter. Just an empty box, tied up with paper and ribbon.’
Everyone exhaled. Sheet-white but otherwise composed, Ellie put the kettle on.
‘I’ll give Chris the all-clear,’ she said, and then went out into the hall to phone him.
The girls started to disperse. Max slipped Ginge his payment and he departed.
‘You okay now?’ Rosie asked Annie as she got up from the table.
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ she lied.
She went upstairs to her room. Max followed her in, and shut the door.
Annie slumped on the bed and Max stood there leaning against the closed door, watching her.
‘Someone’s playing tricks on you,’ he said.
Annie looked up at him with a bitter, trembling smile. ‘So tell me something I
don’t
know.’
‘Who’d do this?’
Annie shook her head, shrugged. ‘The same person who planted the
real
bomb?’ she suggested.
‘It was exactly the same? Tell me about it.’
Annie folded her arms over her body as if to protect it. ‘I can’t,’ she said through chattering teeth.
‘Yeah you can. Come on. Get a grip.’
Annie glared at him. ‘Oh, you think this is easy? Seeing your husband blown to smithereens and then having
this
happen?’
‘Stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself,’ said Max roughly. ‘Shit happens. Ride it out.’
Annie let out a shuddering breath. She dragged her hands through her hair. ‘I don’t know where to start . . .’
‘The parcel. Where was it?’
‘On a table. With other parcels. Presents. It was . . .’ Her voice trailed away.
It was the night of Lucco and Daniella’s wedding. Stars bright in the Montauk sky, the chill, refreshing breeze coming off the ocean, the terrace empty of people. Just her . . . and then Constantine . . .
‘And Barolli picked up the parcel . . .’ Max prompted.
Annie nodded. ‘Then it exploded.’
‘Why’d he pick up that particular parcel?’
She forced herself to think about it. He was right. Here she was, acting like a bloody Victorian virgin when she was Annie Carter-Barolli, gang boss, Mafia queen. She
had
to get a hold of herself.
‘It was the biggest and brightest, the most eye-catching. And at the front of the table.’ Suddenly she looked at Max. ‘It was in front of the other presents. The police in the States told me it was booby-trapped with a cluster of grenades.’ She swallowed hard. ‘The pins had been wired through and into the table, they told me. So that when it was picked up, it would . . . explode.’ Her eyes were full of tragedy. ‘He would have picked that one up first anyway, wouldn’t he? Later on in the evening. It’s traditional, the Don hands the couple their presents.’
Max folded his arms. ‘So you can rule out Lucco.’
‘What?’
‘Whoever planted the thing thought that Constantine would pick it up later in the evening, when the couple and the guests were there with him. Lucco would have been right there when the thing exploded. Therefore, it
couldn’t
have been Lucco who planted it, or who got someone else to plant it.’
Max was right. It couldn’t have been Lucco.
She tried to think. There had been so many people in and around the house that day. Usually, the place was a fortress, totally secure; but with all the people milling around, it became difficult to keep tabs on everyone. Of course checks had been made – but they’d failed.
Annie clutched at her head. ‘Who’s doing this? Someone left that thing on the doorstep deliberately, to scare me.
Who?
’
‘That’s what we’re going to have to find out,’ said Max. He was smiling as if this was a game, and he was enjoying it. ‘You know that old saying about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer? I’ve been in touch with sweet young Daniella.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, just fishing around. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the tide of power’s turning in that household.’ He looked at her. ‘And Daniella likes you.’
‘You find that hard to understand, I suppose.’
He shrugged. ‘You’ve been straight with her, kind. The rest of them – apart from Golden Boy – don’t really want to know. I’ve been talking to her, she’s been talking to Alberto and to that crazy bastard Lucco – and now there’s been a
slight
change of plan.’
‘I’m so pleased you’ve come back,’ said Daniella, hugging Annie impulsively when she and Max checked back into the Holland Park house the next morning.
‘Well, I’m pleased to
be
back,’ said Annie, although that wasn’t true.
At least in Limehouse she’d felt as if she was among friends. Here, she had just two – Daniella and Alberto; the rest of them were her enemies and she was sure they were trying to unhinge her.
And yet – here she was. Back again. She’d argued the point with Max, but he’d overruled her.
‘Keep them up close, see how they react,’ he’d said – as if dangling her like a piece of meat under their sharklike noses was nothing more than an interesting experiment. ‘It’s better to have them inside the tent with you pissing out, than outside pissing in.’
‘Look, I
know
how they’ll react. They want me dead. They’ll kill me.’
‘They won’t kill you. You’ve got security. Remember?’
‘Oh, yeah. Ex-SAS Mark Carson. I wouldn’t put it past Lucco to check that out, you know.’
‘You think I give a shit? Now, which was Nico’s room?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m going to go through his things and see if there’s anything there about Layla. So which is it?’
Annie told him. Christ, he really was like a dog with a bone; he wasn’t going to let this go, not ever. And when he found out she’d been lying to him, keeping him in the dark, he was going to go
mental.
‘Unless you’ve heard anything already . . .?’ he asked, his eyes probing her face.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I haven’t.’ She hadn’t even dared ring Jenny Parsons at the yard, for fear that Max might somehow hear and realize what was going on.
He went off to check Nico’s room.
Now she was back in the master suite and very surprised to find herself there. She thought Lucco would have laid claim to it already, but he surprisingly hadn’t.
‘He’s got so much on his mind,’ said Daniella when Annie remarked on this, but the girl’s eyes were worried and her face was still showing the bruises from Lucco’s fist. ‘It’s been horrible here with Lucco and Alberto at each other’s throats.’
‘How’d you two swing this?’ she asked Alberto later. ‘Lucco was ready to cut my head off when I saw him last.’
‘He still is,’ said Alberto. ‘But I had a word in the ear of Daniella’s father. He’s a big man, a great man back in Sicily, with important connections, and he won’t take any shit. He had a word with Lucco, and suddenly anything Daniella wants, Daniella gets.’
‘Except a happy marriage,’ said Annie.
‘Ah yeah. Except that. Miracles take a little longer.’ And he smiled.
Yeah – he definitely
wasn’t
the easy-going charmer you could easily take him for. And now she thought she’d been stupid to think it anyway; he’d been raised by Constantine, who had for years maintained complete order with no recourse to law. Constantine had with seemingly no effort at all held the dangerous streets of Queens in his absolute thrall; Alberto must have absorbed some of his father’s cunning, if only by osmosis.
‘Oh – you’re back then,’ said Gina, looking at her with disfavour at dinner that night.
‘Daniella missed me,’ said Annie sweetly.
Gina, sitting there in her usual black mourning, her handsome face as cutting as a hatchet, shot Daniella an acid look, and she blushed.
‘I missed her too,’ said Alberto, skilfully skinning a peach and sending a glinting, secret look to Daniella.
Cara said nothing. Lucco, sitting at the head of the table in Constantine’s place, seemed not even to hear this exchange. They all looked at him. He glanced around at their expectant faces.
‘What?’ he asked. Then his eyes fastened on Annie. ‘Oh. So I’m supposed to comment on this situation now, am I? I’m suppose to act overjoyed that my father’s whore is back in residence?’
‘His
wife
,’ corrected Alberto mildly.
‘My mother –
our
mother – was his wife,’ Lucco reminded him.
‘So was I,’ Annie pointed out.
‘Sorry, that slipped my mind.’
There was silence at the table.
‘And where’s the trained gorilla?’ asked Lucco. ‘The mighty hero, your “security”?’
‘You mean Mark? He’s here somewhere. Just a step away.’
‘Unnecessary.’ Lucco fingered the stem of his brandy balloon and stared at her with hostile eyes. ‘We’re your family, aren’t we? According to you.’
‘And families ought to stick together, especially in bad times,’ said Annie smoothly.
‘Sonny Gilbert phoned about the club. He wanted to talk to you,’ said Alberto. ‘Just to bring you up to speed with what’s happening.’
‘He could have talked to Lucco,’ said Annie. ‘After all,’ she sent Lucco a sweet smile, ‘we’re partners in the Times Square venture, aren’t we, Lucco? Although I
do
still have the controlling share.’
Lucco stared at her. ‘I haven’t time for bullshit like that,’ he said. ‘You deal with it. I’m not interested.’
Annie nodded. ‘Of course, you’ve got so much to do. It was so tragic about poor Rocco.
And
his father, of course. Have you been in touch with the Mancinis again yet, Lucco?’
Lucco’s lips tightened but his smile didn’t slip an inch. He flicked a glance at Alberto.
‘All that is in hand. As is tracking down whoever was responsible.’
Annie’s eyes met Cara’s. Cara looked away first.
‘His brothers must have been upset,’ said Annie.
‘Yes. They were.’
‘And wanting answers.’
Lucco slammed the glass down on the table so hard that Annie was surprised it didn’t shatter. ‘They’ll
get
answers,’ he said, standing up. ‘When I do.’
And he left the room.
‘You know, you shouldn’t antagonize him,’ said Alberto.
‘Me?’ Annie looked wide-eyed. ‘I was only asking.’
‘Well, I think it’s very good that someone stands up to him,’ said Daniella, flushing bright pink at her own boldness.
‘You ought to learn some respect, my girl,’ said Gina, and rose and followed Lucco.
‘Nothing to say?’ Annie asked Cara.
‘I’m in mourning for my husband and for my father-in-law,’ said Cara icily. She was staring unseeingly at her empty plate. ‘I don’t think I should be discussing his death or the consequences of it with you.’
‘No? Only yesterday it seemed like you wanted to.’
‘Well, today I don’t. Got that?’
‘Loud and clear,’ said Annie, as Cara too left the room.
‘Well,’ said Annie to Alberto and Daniella. ‘This is nice. Back in the bosom of my family.’
Alberto smiled and cut another slice from the peach with surgical precision. ‘Isn’t it?’ he said.
That night, Annie was in bed in the master suite when she heard the door open and close softly. She stiffened, expecting attack; and when someone slipped into the bed with her she was halfway out the other side – before Max grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back in.
‘Perks of the job,’ he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her skin and sending shivers down her spine. ‘Sleeping with the boss.’
His erect cock was nudging her in the back.
God, this was a dangerous game she was playing, but it was alluring too. She had closed her mind to the possibility that she would ever see him again, yet here he was. But . . . he wasn’t here for her. All right, he was perfectly happy to use her sexually. But he was
really
here for Layla. And she had to button her lip and be
very
careful that he didn’t find out that she knew already where Layla and Gerda were.
‘Don’t the boss have any say in this?’ she objected, trying to sound coldly disapproving but failing dismally. Suddenly her blood was sizzling with desire; every pore of her skin was sensitized to him.
‘No, actually – she don’t,’ he whispered against her breast as his tongue got busy there, lapping her, teasing her into willingness.
Annie shivered. ‘But you’re supposed to be guarding me,’ she murmured. ‘Not
sleeping
with me.’
‘I wasn’t intending to do much sleeping,’ he said, trailing kisses over her collarbone.
One careless little slip and he would be gone, off to get his daughter. And . . . she needed him. Not only to keep her safe, but also because she had never really stopped loving him. How could she? He had been torn from her and she had turned to another man for help and had fallen under that man’s spell. But in her heart, Max had always remained.