Authors: Renee Simons
She winced at the thought that history could repeat itself. "He won't do that."
"How can you be sure? What kind of deal do you think you've struck with him?"
"Keep this up and I'm going to regret letting you in here."
"Then I'm gone." He rose from his place and started for the door.
"Ethan. Wait." She went to him and put a hand on his arm. "I didn't mean that."
"Yeah, you did."
"Do you remember the first time you took me to Kevin's place? You’d decided to go back to the site and he thought that was too dangerous. Remember?"
"So?"
"Did you let his concern keep you from doing what you needed to?"
"No, but this is different," he insisted.
"It isn't. Certainly not because it's happening to me. I have to see this through, and even though I can't talk about it, I do need a friend."
He seemed to consider her request. "All right, love,” he said finally. “Have it your way."
She leaned against him and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"Is that supposed to hold me for any length of time?" he asked.
She smiled. "I'm afraid so."
"It'll never do me, then." He cupped her face with gentle hands, warming her to his touch. One thumb brushed her mouth, from corner to corner, lingering at the gentle bow in its center. As if content he’d learned its shape, he eased her lips apart with a flick of his tongue, slipping inside to join with hers in a gentle yet tantalizing dance.
She’d never known such tenderness, had never let herself get close enough to any man to experience such a moment. Had never burned with such blazing heat or felt an electric current shiver through her body, or a yearning ache that throbbed in her limbs and bathed her most secret of all places in moisture.
A moan escaped her throat, only to be captured by Ethan, who warmed it, breathing it back into her like a breath of life. She clung to him as he wrapped his arms around her and held her against his hard body. Despite the turmoil of her emotions, she felt cocooned and safe for the first time since her life had shattered all those years ago. So safe, she felt bereft when he pulled back.
Until he smiled and whispered, "That's more like it."
Chapter 9
Jordan
met with Terence once or twice a week, in no particular pattern. They talked for hours about the man finally identified as Anthony "Tony Vee" Volpe, about his operations and business associates. At the end of each session, Conlon gave her one piece of information to take back to
Beacon Hill
. Accurate enough to satisfy the task force, each one targeted another aspect of Tony's organization.
The police closed down a string of "chop shops," in the business of dismantling stolen late model cars for parts or simply doctoring the vehicles for resale. They arrested two dealers in stolen goods and terminated a moderately successful illegal betting operation.
Separately, none of the operations meant much. Together they amounted to one hundred thousand dollars a month in lost income for Tony. His annoyance was unmistakable. He began looking around for the source of his discomfort. Conlon was as happy as a kid out of school.
"It's time to open the wound and grind salt in it. Today, we're really going to hurt him."
"Must you take such pleasure in this?" She'd come to feel a kind of affection for Terence, supposing it came from his considerate treatment of her and his unexpected openness. She didn't like his bloodthirsty mood very much, however. It forced her to remember who and what he was.
"If you mean, am I happy to be doing something I should have done a long time ago, then yes."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to give you Paolo Reiner-Lopes," he announced and waited for her reaction.
She stared at him in astonishment. "The guy from Peter's Key? Why him?"
"For one thing, because he and Tony are like the forefinger and thumb of the same hand - where one points, the other follows. To damage one is to devastate the other."
"He's a powerful man in his world. How are you planning to bring him down?"
"I out-bribed all the officials Paolo bought. Now they'll be making more money to turn him in than to protect him." He looked at his watch. "In about an hour I should get a call that D.E.A. agents have raided his fortress and taken him prisoner." He shrugged. "After that it's extradition and the slammer for Senor Reiner-Lopes. Give me your hand."
When
Jordan
reached out he placed a tiny cassette into her palm and folded her fingers over it. "This contains everything your people will need to ensure Paolo's link to Tony and guarantee his prosecution once he's been apprehended - names, numbers, distribution chains, the works."
"You’ve only given me one reason why you're giving him up. What's the other?"
He held her hand, the one with the cassette in it. She felt his strength. "When he's behind bars, you'll know that I'm telling the truth. So when I tell you about your father, you'll believe me."
"What could you tell me that I don't already know?"
"More than you can imagine."
* * *
Paolo Reiner-Lopes' capture made headlines in the media and the D.E.A. agents involved received commendations for the action. Dominique Santorelli spoke of mixed emotions.
She and her team expressed delight that the man was finally out of circulation, but concern that his apprehension might derail efforts to get at Tony Vee and Conlon.
Jordan
gave her the tape, providing excellent reassurance to the A.D.A. that they were, in fact, one step closer to reaching their mutual goal.
Conlon phoned one evening as
Jordan
dressed for a quiet dinner with Ethan. "I have to go out of the country," he explained, "and there are things we need to discuss. I'll be by in the limo in twenty minutes. Wait outside." Although she'd become accustomed to Terence's unpredictable summonses, Ethan reacted with displeasure.
"Must you jump every time he calls?"
"That's how this deal works,"
Jordan
replied as she headed out the door.
In the car Conlon asked, "Do you mind if we talk over dinner? I hate airline food."
They went to a quiet bistro in the North End of Boston, where the owner and his staff welcomed them and escorted them to "Signor" Conlon's table in an isolated corner booth. She could have ordered a meal. Instead, she nursed a glass of wine and listened while he talked and ate a veal dish prepared especially to his taste.
"What’s so important that you had to sidetrack my dinner date with Ethan?"
"Tony is sending me to the islands to find out what happened to our boy Paolo. I don't know what kind of trouble I'll run into down there and you have some knowledge coming to you about your father. I want you to have it before I go."
She felt an alien emotion tug at her. "Could something go wrong? Are you in danger?"
He shrugged. "Anything can go wrong anywhere, and I'm in the same danger you are." He poured more wine, then drained his glass. "Tell me what you know about your father."
"He was a man like you and Tony, outside the law, a gangster. He was charming, handsome, well versed in the social graces...and a coward."
"Your criticism surprises me." He arched one eyebrow. "What's the last thing you remember about him?"
She kept silent for a moment or two and then answered, "His eyes as he lay on the ground after killing himself."
"Did you see it happen?"
"I was watching through a dirty window. I didn’t get every detail, but I saw enough to get the picture."
His lips compressed into a thin line. "I didn't know you witnessed his death."
"Because you weren't there."
She felt ill at ease discussing that time with him. She turned away and stared blindly at the paintings on the opposite wall.
“This is for you.”
She saw him reach into his breast pocket and pull out a black leather wallet. He flipped it open and held it nestled in his palm, showing her what lay inside. "It was his."
She stared at the shield. "A badge? For God's sake, Terence, what are you telling me?"
"Your father was a member of a special unit in the Treasury Department, similar to the Drug Enforcement Administration. This group investigated illegal drug activities. Its men went under deep cover, adopting false identities and infiltrating various organizations to become a part of the operations they'd been assigned to destroy. Often they stayed under for years, surfacing only after the law apprehended the key people."
Bombarded by the new information,
Jordan
listened in stunned silence. She no longer knew what to think or feel.
"Your father was one of those men. He became a part of the organization, trusted by the leaders. When he fell in love with Dino Fratello’s sister, his future brother-in-law made the wedding." He shook his head and smiled. "Nearly five hundred people showed. The reception went on for twelve hours. Best damned affair I ever attended.
"He and your mother were very much in love. When you were born, he was the happiest sonofabitch I ever saw. Never was a prouder father, so proud he got a little boring sometimes, but no one dared say so. He was the capo's left hand and his brother-in-law the right.
"After sixteen years and a dozen successful operations, your father's cover was blown. I never found out how or by whom. I warned him that all hell was about to break loose.
Never believing Dino would harm you, he went for your mother first and got her to a safe place. By then you'd disappeared. Your uncle had one of his men kidnap you to punish your father, as a special kind of revenge for betraying his trust and for causing him to lose face.
"When Dutch found out where they were holding you, he went to get you, to trade himself for you. There was a struggle. He was shot. Any reason for holding you evaporated when he died. They made it look like suicide, to deflect suspicion away from the organization."
With so many questions and conflicting emotions, she had to force herself to speak. "But I saw him lying there with a gun in his hand."
"You saw what they wanted you to see."
"And where were you while all this was going on?"
"Because of my friendship with him my own family was in danger. I had to protect them.
I told your father as soon as I found out you were at the farm. I was too late."
"Why didn't you go with him?” she asked angrily. “Maybe if you had, he'd have survived."
"If I'd gone with him, we'd both be dead."
"How do you know how he died?"
"Dino told me. Right after it happened."
Her anger cooled as Conlon continued to talk, she took the badge from Conlon and stared down at it through a film of tears, hardly hearing anything he said. She traced the outline of the shield and number, as if her fingers could extract some sense of the man who'd carried it. A man she’d thought she knew, but who’d been a stranger. She felt only cold metal. A tear splashed across its surface. Conlon gave her his handkerchief and watched as she dabbed first at her eyes and then at the memento.
"How did you get this?"
"Your father gave it to me, to hold or pass on to you, if things went badly. Your doctors felt any contact during your rehabilitation would do you harm. They refused to let me see you. The more time passed, the easier it became to stay away. You'd made reasonably good progress in putting the tragedy behind you and eventually I convinced myself the doctors were right. I kept the badge in case I ever found the courage to face you. It's yours now."
"He trusted you? Why?"
He reached for his pipe, packed it with fresh tobacco and lit it before answering, "We were friends, and that's all you'll get for now."