Key West (7 page)

“You there, schmuck?”

Chris ignored the bait. “What you got?”

“Leased to Giacano Enterprises. They buy surplus goods and ship ‘em overseas. Mostly Russia.”

“Damn, you’re still quick, Flynn.” He frowned. There had been nothing in the research he’d done that mentioned Giacano Enterprises, at least not in relation to either Sonnie or Frank Giacano. But he’d obviously lost his touch for significant feelings. Sonnie had a family visitor, nothing more.

“You still there, schmuck?”

“Yeah. It’s good to hear your voice.”

There was a pause before Flynn said, “Likewise. What’re you doing in Key West?”

Chris laughed. “What makes you think I’m in Key West?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Good hunch. We’ll talk about the meaning of my life one of these days,” he said, “when you need something to put you to sleep.”

‘‘It’s still the woman, isn’t—”

“One of these days we’ll talk about it,” Chris repeated, but the muscles across his shoulders had already clenched.

“Sure you will,” Flynn said. “Ι’ll expect to hear from you in a year or so—or when you need information I’m not supposed to give you. You remember the sixty-seven pink pony I bought?”

Chris looked at Sonnie’s house again. This wasn’t a good time for a buddy chat. “The Barbiemobile, you mean?” he said. “Who could forget? A rusty pink heap of Mustang junk with a missing seat. Let me guess—you’ve finally accepted that it’s tasteless, too tasteless even to live in your warehouse with the rest of those useless junk Mustangs. Congratulations.”

“It’s mint now, perfect,” Flynn said. “And it was only the third exception to all the other Dusk Rose vehicles. Guess why?”

Chris figured he was paying for the infοrmation Flynn had given him. I don’t have a clue,” he said. “Why?”

Flynn chuckled like the proud father of a brilliant child. “They all had black seats, unless they were custom. I know of two οthers with parchment seats. This baby’s got a histοry.”

“Congratulations. You’ll hear from me.” Chris hung up. He meant what he said. But just not too soon.

He lifted his helmet from his lap. It could be that Frank Giacano had chosen today to reemerge from the void.

Sonnie was an odd little bird. An odd, wounded little bird. He doubted she’d ever been real substantial, but she must have had more body than she did now. He almost laughed. Maybe he ought to rephrase that thought.

Feeling negative at the prospect of Frank Giacano’s return was way out of line.

Chris eased on his helmet. Sometimes he missed the days when he’d worn a regulation brain bucket and ridden with the wind raking his then-shoulder-length hair. On more than one occasion his chief had accused him of enjoying his job too much. Chris had never protested because, dirty as Narcotics might be, it was a duty that really counted. Sometimes really counted, unless the perp mattered enough to the money men. In that case, he or she would be back on the streets before the ink dried on the warrant. After Narcotics, he’d moved to Homicide—the beginning of his end.

He looked over his shoulder and prepared to start his engine. Sonnie’s front door opened.

Chris rolled his booted feet from toe to heel, eased the bike backward and onto the sidewalk until a vine-draped telephone pole gave him some cover.

Sonnie herself stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. She faced straight out, but from her stance, Chris doubted she was looking at anything in particular.

A man came to stand behind her. Sonnie stepped onto the veranda that ran around the house, and she turned aside as if she refused to look at her visitor.

Chris looked at him. The distance between them was too great to allow more than a general impression. Average height, dark curly hair, tanned. Chris thought the guy looked fit.

The man touched Sonnie’s arm. She hunched her shoulders and walked away, to the corner at the right side of the house. Her visitor followed and Sonnie broke into an uneven run out of sight toward the back of the house.

The man was chasing her.

Tearing off his helmet, Chris hauled the Harley back onto its stand. He took off across the street and sprinted along a crushed coral path that skirted the veranda. He didn’t slow down until he’d almost reached a trellis loaded with shocking purple bougainvillea. Built between a veranda pole and a high

hedge at the east edge of the property, the trellis divided the front garden from the back.

Chris had put a foot on the veranda decking and made to swing a leg over the rail when the man’s voice, raised but not angry, reached him. Caution finally kicked in and Chris finished climbing—very quietly—over the railing.

“Listen to me, please,” the man said with a heavy Italian accent. He sounded shaken. “Listen, Sonnie. You and I are friends. We were friends before you met Frank. I wanted—”

“Stop. Please stop.” Sonnie was harder to hear. “You’ve been a good friend to me, the best.”

“And I always will be. I will watch over you as long as I live. This is a promise I have made to myself, a promise my brother would expect me to make.”

“Romano, I’m grateful for your kindness, but I can’t allow you to tell me what I must or must not do. And I don’t expect you to be angry because I choose to live my own life. You are a busy man. Don’t worry about me, please.”

Chris stood close to the house and waited.

“You have been through a great deal,” Giacano said. “Too much. You need someone to care for you at all times. You are an attractive woman, and—”

“I’m an insignificant,
married
woman,” Sonnie said, her voice sharper. “No, don’t argue with me. I’m used to the truth. I’ve lived with it for months. I’m grateful for the recovery I’ve made, but I know what I look like.”

Chris breathed in slowly. She had a lousy opinion of herself and she was dead wrong. She limped and had scars. Big deal. She was interesting, damn it. She interested him...

“What is inside you shines out, my dear,” said Sonnie’s subtle brother-in-law. “That is what matters. But an opportunist who discovers what a wealthy woman you are could flatter you, take advantage of you. There already is someone, isn’t there? That’s why you came here alone. Who is he? Give me a name and I’ll find out about him.”

“How did you know I was here?” Sonnie asked.

After a short silence Giacano said, “You don’t need to know that. I’m here; that’s what matters. There will be nothing for you to worry about anymore. Let me take you back to your family. I’ll stay tonight and we can leave in the morning.”

 “No. What are you saying? No.”

The man’s sigh was loud and frustrated. “These are not the decisions for you to make. In Frank’s absence, I must decide what is best for you.”

“You aren’t Frank,” Sonnie said, and Chris thought he heard the start of angry tears. “You aren’t my husband. I don’t even know if I’ve
got
a husband anymore.”

He ought to feel uncomfortable, Chris thought, only the lady had come to him with a story about her life being in jeopardy. It was his duty to take her request for his services seriously—even if he hadn’t agreed to work for her.

“I know I am not your husband.” Romano had taken a long time to respond. “But I am the head of the family. That means it is my responsibility to look after you. Sonnie...Sonnie, have you heard something about Frank? Did they contact you?” The man’s voice rose.

“No, nothing.”

“Please, my dear, don’t hold back anything about my dear brother. I cannot tell you how I have suffered thinking of what could be happening to him.”

“I haven’t heard anything about Frank. Billy told you I was here, didn’t she?”

“Billy loves you.”

“She’s my half-sister and I ought to be able to trust her. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone where I’d gone.”

“Come back into the house, Sonnie. I need to be sure you’re all right. You are as much a part of my life as...You are very important to me.”

Chris narrowed his eyes. Mr. Giacano was too smooth, and he wasn’t Sonnie’s type. And there was something about him that raised Chris’s antennae.

“I will be staying in Key West,” Sonnie said, and Chris smiled with one side of his mouth.

“Your family wants you to come home.”

“Frank did his best to keep me as far from my family as possible. He didn’t want me to have them near me, and he didn’t want me to have friends.”

Shrugging away from the wall, Chris went on alert. He hadn’t only imagined that Sonnie was covering up more than she had actually shared with him. A husband who cut her off from other people. Classic behavior for an abusive spouse. Not that he had any proof that Frank Giacano had been abusive—yet.

“Let me hold you, Sonnie. I look at you and  I just want to take you into my arms. You have suffered so much for one so gentle. Come, my dear.”

Chris bowed his head and listened even harder. He studied his fingernails. Surely she was too smart to be taken in by lines like that.

“You are confused,” Romano said. “You don’t even accept an offer of comfort from the one you trust the most.”

Maybe Romano was trying as much to convince himself as Sonnie. Chris didn’t blame him for wanting to hold her, but he didn’t quite believe she trusted him the most, as Romano said; in fact, he’d put money on her wanting to get rid of him.

There was a pause in conversation from the other side of the bougainvillea. Chris rubbed a hand over his mouth. Had she accepted Romano’s offer of “comfort”? “Well, baby,” he murmured softly, “if you buy that one, I’ve got a real nice bridge for sale.”

He didn’t want to think of her in Giacano’s arms—or any man’s arms.

Now there was a confusing admission. Ah, he’d flipped into protective mode; that was all. For a tough man, he’d always been weak when it came to letting women open doors for themselves, or carry their own bags. Too bad. He guessed he must be one of those Renaissance men people spoke about. There were definitely some who referred to him as a “throwback,” not that he thought they were complimenting him.

“Very well,” Romano said. “Perhaps it will take time for you to remember the trust we have shared.”

She hadn’t let him get his clammy paws on her.

“I will stay here with you. If you are searching for some clue to Frank—not that I can understand why you would choose this place—but if you are, I will help you.”

Sonnie didn’t answer.

“You were never sure of yourself. It will be good for you to know there is a man in the house.”

Chris held absolutely still.

“I’m quite sure of myself,” Sonnie said. “I’ve had to learn to be.”

In any other circumstance, Chris would have cheered.

“I am glad you feel so,” Romano said. “I will help you become even more sure—while we try to help each other. But this decision of yours to come here is not, er, easy to understand. If, as you insist, you came here to be alone, and you are not involved with someone else, then we must examine what has happened in your mind.”

Those words brought Chris to attention.

“I have enough of my things to manage for some days. Then, if I can’t persuade you to leave with me, I must send for more. I will take the bedroom nearest to yours and Frank’s, just in case you need me in the night.”

Damn the slimy little bastard,
Chris thought, setting his teeth. In case she needed him in the night for what?

“That wouldn’t be a good idea.” Sonnie was barely audible. “I have neighbors. People talk.”

“But, my dear—”

“No,” Sonnie said, with more force. “You can’t stay here. I suggest you go back to New York. We’ll stay in touch, and the moment I find out anything useful, I’ll call you.”

“I will do as I have said and remain here.”

“You will not stay in this house, Romano. It’s not that I wouldn’t love to have your company, but I can’t. If you insist on being in Key West for a while, you’ll have to find another place to stay.”

“How can you say that?” Anger edged those sexy, reasonable Italian nuances. “You wound me, my dear. It is exactly as I feared. You are not yourself. Very well, I will stay at the club. At least until you stop being afraid of gossip. But I insist that we bring in a doctor to examine you.”

“Examine me?”

“You knοw you are not ready to be without medical supervision.”

“Are you talking about bringing in a psychiatrist?”

The man laughed. “Leave these matters to me. I will call the Sunset shortly and arrange for a room. A good thing we kept up our membership.”

In other words, he did intend to try to make Sonnie submit to some psychiatric examination.

“There will be no doctors brought here,” Sonnie said. “I’d like to be alone now.”

“Alone is the last thing you should be. It’s obvious I must care for you. I will call your father and he will agree with me.”

Making sure he made plenty of noise with his boots, Chris walked to the next corner of the house and stepped out. Sonnie sat halfway down a flight of steps from the veranda to a paved terrace with a pool beyond. Romano Giacano stood on the top step looking down at her, or he had been looking at her until he heard, then saw, Chris arrive.

“Hey,” Chris said, his best grin in place. “Hey, Sonnie. Sorry I’m late. Don’t tell Roy or he’ll have plenty to say about it.”

Romano stared at him blankly.

Sonnie smiled with such pathetic gratitude that he wanted to laugh. He felt a whole lot more pleasure than he should feel over something so small.

Romano moved to cut Chris off from Sonnie’s line of sight. “Who are you?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Chris Talon, at your service,” Chris said, leaning forward and extending a hand. “Friend of Sonnie’s.”

Chris’s hand was ignored. “A friend? How could you possibly be a friend of our Sonnie’s?”

“Friend,”
Chris said slowly and distinctly. “You knοw. As in someone you like, and rely on sometimes.”

The other man looked back at Sonnie. “Do you know this man?”

“Yes,” she said, and her delighted grin gave Chris a charge. “We knοw each other very well.”

Chris almost shouted with laughter. The odd little bird wasn’t above her own brand of opportunistic torture.