The Heavenly Fugitive (2 page)

“What’cha want, eh?” The question was shot at Phil like a bullet from a gun.

“I’m delivering a mare for Mr. Morino from the Thornton Stables.”

“You got a paper that says so?”

“Right here.”

Phil shoved the invoice through the bars and watched as the man scanned it suspiciously. Apparently satisfied, he handed it back and unlocked the gate. Phil had started back to the truck when the guard’s gruff command halted him. “Hold it right there, Mac!”

The man walked toward him and said, “I’ll have to frisk you.”

“Frisk me? What for?”

The guard’s cold gray eyes twinkled at Phil’s confusion. “Gotta see if you’re packin’ a gat.”

“What’s a gat?”

“Don’t give me that, kid! I ain’t got time for games.” The man ran his hands up and down Phil’s body.

Remembering DeSalvo’s instructions, Phil kept still. When the inspection was over, he smiled and asked, “Am I okay?”

“I’ll have to check the truck and trailer.”

Phil walked back to the truck and waited while the man checked under the seats and inspected the horse trailer.

“Okay,” the guard said, turning. “You can go on in.”

“Where are the stables?”

“Take that road up to the house. Bear to the left and circle around. You’ll find them out behind in a big field. Ask for O’Connor. He takes care of the horses.”

“Thanks.”

Getting back into the truck, Phil was amused at being the object of such suspicion, but he had read enough detective novels to recognize the methods of gangsters. Now he was even more curious about Morino, but he knew he’d better be careful. The guard’s businesslike attitude and steely eyes warned Phil that he was walking into a potentially dangerous situation.

He chuckled to himself as he made his way to the stables and thought,
Maybe I’ll get to see a real live American gangster. I’ve heard about all the bootleggers but never thought I might meet one!

****

A white ball rolled across the green felt, struck a red ball sharply, and sent it toward the pocket, where it disappeared with a heavy
plunk!
The girl who had made the shot nodded with satisfaction at her younger brother. Fifteen-year-old Rosa Morino shook her lustrous ebony hair and grinned, a sparkle of mischief in her enormous dark eyes. She moved around the table with the awkward grace of an adolescent and made shot after shot. When she had cleared the table, she racked up the balls for a new game, but the noise of a
truck backfiring caught her ear. She slammed the cue down on the table and ran to the window. “Jamie, she’s here! My horse is here!”

Leaving her brother and running out of the billiard room, Rosa dashed down the hall but halted at the sound of her father’s voice coming from an open door. “Where are you going, Rosa?”

Rosa stepped into her father’s study, her eyes flashing, and cried out, “It’s my mare! She’s here, Daddy! I’m going to ride her right now!”

“Oh no you’re not, young lady! Not until O’Connor checks her out.”

Rosa’s father rose from his desk chair and came toward her. A daunting figure, he was a solid man with heavy legs and arms and massive fists. He had a round face with blunt features and a ragged scar that traced its way down his right cheek and along the jawline. The scar was the result of a run-in with a horse, not a brawl. He had been kicked, but as was typical of him when it came to animals, he had insisted it was his fault, not the horse’s.

Big Tony Morino was more understanding of animals than of human beings. He had come to this country as a child speaking only Italian and had fought his way up through childhood on the tough streets of New York City’s Lower East Side. He had managed to stay out of the clutches of the law except for one thirty-day bout behind bars, but after that month of incarceration, the crafty Morino had determined to find a way to get rich without going to jail for it. He now ruled over several organized gangs of bootleggers in New York City, along with five or six other kingpins.

Though Morino was a fearsome man to anyone who crossed him in his business dealings, to Rosa he was simply her father, and she was not afraid to plead with him to let her see the horse right away.

The hardwood floor shook with his weight as he crossed
it and stood face-to-face with Rosa. “No riding until O’Connor’s checked her out,” he bellowed.

Rosa was hardly fazed by his stern demeanor. “Oh, Daddy!”

“You mind what I say, Rosa. O’Connor said that horse is too lively for you.”

“I can ride her!”

“Maybe you can, but you’re not going to yet. Now, you mind your father.” His dark scowl relaxed a bit as he reached out and tenderly tugged a lock of Rosa’s black hair. Her skinny, girlish shape had given way to womanly curves, and she looked stunning in a pair of dark blue jodhpurs, a wine-colored jersey, and shiny riding boots. Big Tony took special pride in her beauty, and he often gave in to her pleading expressions, but this time he refused to let her get the better of him completely. “You can look at her—but no riding without O’Connor. And that’s final!”

“Oh, all right, Daddy.” She suddenly threw herself against him and kissed him on the cheek, her eyes sparkling. “Thank you so much, Daddy. It’s the nicest present anyone ever got!”

“Well, go along now,” Tony said, pleased at her embrace. She was an affectionate girl, and as she wheeled and ran out of the room, he realized how much of his heart was in this girl on the brink of womanhood. His first wife had given him no children, and after her death Tony had married Maria, who had quickly given him two—Rosa, followed two years later by James. Tony never minded interruptions from his family, and he was especially happy when Rosa was around. Now he moved back to his desk and perused his list of business contacts.

Before long he was interrupted again—this time by his wife. He looked up as she entered the room and smiled at her. “The mare is here, Maria. Rosa’s already gone out to look at her.”

Maria Morino crossed the large study and stood beside her husband. She was a trim woman of forty—nearly twenty years younger than her husband. She had been raised in a
conservative home, and her family had been horrified when she had announced her engagement to Big Tony Morino. Although she had introduced him as Mr. Anthony Morino, they knew who he was and what he did for a living. They had done all they could to prevent her from marrying a gangster but to no avail. Maria could not explain it to herself. She had turned down many more suitable men, and her family feared she would never marry. But then Big Tony had simply swept her off her feet. She was happy in her marriage and proud to have given Tony two fine children. She was grieved at his illegal activities but had never tried to interfere in his work. It was one area of his life she could not touch. She knew the nature of his work when she married him, but she couldn’t help loving him for who he was at home. He was always kind to her and loved his family as much as any man could. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for them. He was also a patriotic man who loved America with a passion. He proudly carried the American flag in parades and attended Fourth of July speeches, applauding with his ponderous hands and whistling at the oratories extolling the virtues of his adopted country.

“I’m worried about that horse,” Maria said. “O’Connor tells me she’ll be a handful for Rosa.”

“Rosa can handle her,” Tony said confidently.

“But she’s barely fifteen.”

“She’s been riding since she was six years old, Maria. She’s ridden everything we’ve ever had on the place with four legs, even that big dog we had when she was a little mite.” Tony grinned. He stood up and hugged his wife. “She’ll be all right, dear. I won’t let her ride the mare until O’Connor says she’s ready. You should have seen her just now. She’s so happy.”

Maria reached up and touched his cheek, and when he kissed her, she said reluctantly, “You’re so sweet, Tony, but I worry about Rosa. She’s quite spoiled, you know. A spoiled brat, really.”

“Why, you shouldn’t say that, honey.”

“She
is,
Tony! She’s had everything she ever wanted. You can never refuse her anything.”

“Well, what’s money for if not to make you and the kids happy? I only wish you wanted something for yourself. You never ask me for anything.”

“I don’t need anything, and Rosa has too much. Someday,” Maria said quietly, “she’s going to want something you can’t buy for her.”

Tony snorted. “Why, money buys everything!”

Maria shook her head but did not answer. “I hope you’ll talk to O’Connor,” she said as she turned to leave. “Tell him to be extra careful.”

“Okay. I’ll give him the straight talk.” Morino smiled and sat back down at his desk. He couldn’t concentrate on his work, however. His mind was filled with the pleasure of giving his daughter the purebred Arabian. Staring out the window, he daydreamed of seeing his lovely little Rosa bringing home trophies in all the riding shows.

****

As soon as Rosa darted out the door and caught sight of the truck pulling the horse trailer, she ran toward it full speed, her hair flying out behind her. She scarcely glanced at the young man who had gotten out of the truck and now stood beside the trailer. Her eyes were all for the horse, and she peered in through the windows, admiring the mare’s sleek coat. She smiled at the large eyes that watched her in return—rather wickedly, Rosa thought.

She cried out, “Oh, you beauty, and you’re all mine!” She turned to the man and said impatiently, “Well, don’t just stand there! Get my horse out!”

“I’m supposed to see somebody named O’Connor first,” Phil said.

“He’s not here. I’ll sign for it.”

She moved to the back of the trailer and snapped her fingers impatiently, but when the driver only looked at her and
made no move to open it, she said, “Didn’t you hear me? I said open the door and bring my horse out!”

“I’m sorry, miss. I can’t do that. I have to have an adult here. Is O’Connor around?”

Rosa’s dark eyes flashed. She had little time for hired help, and now she marched over and snatched the clipboard out of the young man’s hand. “Look,” she said, pointing to the paper with a superior air. “Anthony Morino—that’s my father. He ordered this horse for
me.
Now just unload her and be on your way. Give me a pencil. I’ll sign for it.”

Phil made no attempt to remove the pencil that was behind his ear. He looked down at the attractive young woman whose beauty, he thought, was considerably marred by her spoiled attitude. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do it, miss.”

“I’m Rosa Morino, and this is my horse!”

“I’m sure that’s true, Miss Morino, but—”

“Look, you see the name of this horse? I gave it to her myself. It’s Boa-ad-ecah.”

Rosa was surprised when the deliveryman laughed. “What are you laughing at?” she snapped.

“Well, I don’t think you pronounced it quite right.”

“What are you talking about? There it is right there! Boadicea. She’s named after a queen from Egypt, and I guess I know how to say my own horse’s name!”

Phil found himself enjoying the confrontation with the young woman. She was as pretty as a girl could be and had more spirit than the mare, if that were possible, but he could not help wanting to put her in her place. “Just two things wrong with that, Miss Morino. The name is pronounced Boo-dee-kuh, and she wasn’t an Egyptian queen. She was from a tribe in Britain, the Iceni. When the Romans attacked her people and raped her two daughters, she raised an army and led them to battle against them.”

Rosa’s eyes flashed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t care what you say! This is my horse!”

Rosa whirled and moved back to the rear of the trailer.
She reached up to unlatch the lock but was suddenly seized from behind. She began to kick and scream. “Let me go! I’m going to get that horse out!”

“I’m sorry, miss. I can’t let you do that.”

In her fury, Rosa swung around and slapped his face with a sharp crack that carried on the air. When she tried to slap him again, he caught her wrist. She struggled, and since she was a strong young girl, it took a great deal of strength to hold her off. Phil was embarrassed. “Cut it out, Miss Morino,” he said with exasperation. She tried to pummel him with her fists, and it was all he could do to hold her without hurting her. She thrashed and kicked, screaming, “You turn me loose!”

While Phil was trying to defend himself without hurting the girl, he did not see the big man lumbering toward them from the house. Dominic Costello, bodyguard for Big Tony and his family, had heard the altercation from inside and came running as fast as his huge frame would allow. He had the blunt face of a pugilist, one ear puffed up, scar tissue around his eyes, and cold light gray eyes. He reached the struggling pair and pulled the girl loose so violently she staggered. Without hesitation he struck out with a tremendous right-hand blow that instantly cut Phil’s eyebrow to the bone and drenched his face in blood.

Stunned, Phil fell backward, seeing nothing but swirling lights—yellow, red, and brilliant blue. He felt strong hands yanking him to his feet, and then another blow rocked him on the other side of his face. He tried to get away from the blows, but the powerful fists landed squarely on his face every time.

Rosa caught her balance and stopped dead still as she watched Dominic pound the helpless young man into semi-consciousness. Even as the man was falling toward the ground, Dominic dealt a massive blow to his midsection. Rosa heard his muted cry of pain as he doubled over and fell facedown in a pool of blood.

When Dominic began kicking the man as he lay still, she ran forward and grabbed his arm. “Dom, stop—!”

“I’ll kill him,” Dom screamed, still kicking. “He was trying to hurt you!”

“No, he wasn’t, Dom! I was trying to get the horse out, and he was trying to stop me.”

Dom stepped back to catch his breath and looked at her, puzzled. “You mean he wasn’t bothering you?”

“No, Dom. It was my fault,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks at the trouble she had just caused. Rosa knelt and gently rolled the inert body over. She was sickened by the wreck that Dom had made of the man’s face, and she whispered, “Oh, Dom, you’ve hurt him bad!”