Ties That Bind (30 page)

But as Jimmie's right hand, he knew she didn't have a chance. Over the years, Mitch could think of no one as high up in the organization who was willing to take care of complications on their own. Usually, once a man reached a certain point in the hierarchy, they managed to keep themselves clear of the dirtier tasks of the business. Not just because it kept them above government scrutiny but also because they usually felt they had paid their dues already. Either way, Jimmie's willingness to jump into the fray gave Mitch pause. His devotion to his family was deeper than Mitch had anticipated and he prided himself on never being surprised.

And yet, as he watched Jimmie sitting on the sofa of his suite, meticulously cleaning his weapon, it was impossible to deny it: Jimmie was going to exact his own justice.

“They're going to kill her, Mitch,” he murmured without raising his eyes. “Whichever family gets to her first.”

“I know.”

“In a very painful way.”

Mitch nodded, his fists tightening as he tried to keep the visions of her soon to be inflicted brutality at a minimum. “I know that, too.”

“I can't let that happen. I have to let her explain, I have to protect her from the worst-”

Mitch couldn’t blame him for leaving the words unfinished. He didn’t want to hear them either. His eyes drifted over the photos from his shooting, finally settling on the one that continued to plague him.

When realization hit him, it was a gut punch hard enough to make him gasp out loud and cause Jimmie to turn his direction. He reached to the other stack, the one of Ashli’s rendezvous, and then his eyes locked with Jimmie’s.

Mitch held the stack of photographs in his hand, tapping them against the table as he began to second guess himself. It wasn’t a smart move, politically or probably even emotionally...but it was the honest move. He slid the two photos across the Jimmie.

“You don't have much time. She's not trying to get a deal,” he murmured. “She’s already made one.”

He turned the photo in the correct position for Jimmie’s eyes. It was the photo that had tugged at him, the one that had made his stomach turn with vague recognition. He could understand his own delay in catching it – he had just been shot – but why Jimmie's meticulous nature hadn't recognized it immediately was beyond him. Ignoring the centered profile of Ashli, he tapped his finger on the man in the background. Although not the focus of the frame, his appearance was clear, his identity unmistakable. “Sonny’s birthday.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jimmie exhaled, wrenching up the photo. The spiky red hair, the bad suit, the ugly purple tie, the gun on his shoulder holster that had fired at Mitch without warning...the federal agent Mitch had thrown out of the Verona Ballroom just before the onslaught of government warrants that locked down the entire casino over a year before.  “They weren't kidnapping her. They were extracting her.”

“Or trying to,” Mitch nodded. “If they already have her, the warrants will come fast. You know that.”

Jimmie was pacing, moving to stare out the suite's windows. Although he was silent, Mitch could almost see his mood changing from worry to disbelief to anger and, finally, to resignation. “That changes things, I suppose.”

“Jimmie, don't do this-”

“Don't do what?” he growled, whirling to face Mitch. “Don't leave her to her own fate?  Don't finally do what she's asked all along – to just leave her be?  Don't admit a lifetime of protecting her will reward me with a half dozen indictments including one for the murder of a federal agent? No matter that I didn't
know
he was a federal agent. That plays little into legal matters these days. Don't what, Mitchell?  What exactly don't you want me to do?”

“Don't give up on her. Don't chose this life over your own sister. She can't be past reason. Don't betray her just because you are angry at the decisions she's made.” Mitch grabbed his arm to try and shake some sense into him. “I know you. You will never forgive yourself if you don't try.”

“I betrayed her years ago,” he mumbled. “And I've spent the rest of my life trying to make up for it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” Jimmie brushed past him and moved to the liquor on the counter, taking a long swig from the carafe before Mitch could wrench the bottle from him.

“Tell me or I swear to god, Jimmie, I'll shoot you myself. We don't have time for this shit.”

“The fire. When we were kids,” Jimmie grumbled, yanking the whiskey out of Mitch's hands. “It was my father. My mom had left and he had started harassing Teresa. She denied it but I knew it was getting worse and worse and when I found them alone in her room one afternoon, I pulled my gun on him. I was a bad shot even then,” he glanced at Mitch only once before moving far across the room. “Took me several to get him. The whole place was a mess. I was a kid. I didn't know what to do. I put Teresa in the car and then lit fire to the house.” He dropped his voice, nearly stuttering as he continued. “She wasn't supposed to be there. She had a dance recital-”

“Ashli,” Mitch breathed. “She was in the house.”

“I didn't know!” Jimmie yelled, throwing the carafe into the wall and watching it shatter into a thousand pieces.

“You took off with Teresa and left Ashli in the house,” Mitch whispered. “The white house on the corner. Blue trim. Gray carpet. Saint Rosalia over the fireplace.”

Jimmie turned. “What did you say?”

Mitch ignored him, grasping the doorknob and yanking it open. “Teddy?”

“Yes, sir?” Teddy was already on alert, his hand on his gun, when Mitch pulled him into the room and shut the door.

“Get Jimmie a drink then get him on a flight. International. I don't give a damn where.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mitch, you can't go after her-” Jimmie took a step toward him but Mitch raised his hands.

“I've got to find Toni. She's in as much jeopardy as we are and if Nicolai questions her loyalty for even a moment…”  Mitch trailed off. “I'll contact you as soon as I can.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

The family found her first.

“Ashli, we have to get you to a hospital,” Mitch tried to pry her from the ground but her body was suddenly heavy. She was fighting him with what little energy she had left.

“No,” she shook her head. “Please, I'm safe with you. Let me stay here,” her voice was pleading and Mitch sank down beside her, cradling her head in his lap.

“You were never safe with me,” he whispered.

“I'm sorry, Mitch. I had no idea it was you. From when I was a child, that day of the fire. I had no idea.”

He shook his head, brushing the sweat soaked hair from her face. “It doesn't matter. That was decades ago. Besides, this life suits me.”

“Don't say that. Don't ever say that,” she coughed, causing blood to trickle down the edge of her mouth. “You are better than this.”

“Ashli,” his voice was soft, almost afraid to know the answer, “why didn't you tell me you had made a deal with the IOC?”

“If you knew it would have ruined everything. You wouldn't have been determined to bring him down,” she managed.

“You didn't want to betray him. You hoped I would take him down and you could get out of this without betraying him on your own,” he guessed. “You wanted me to betray him.”

She nodded, her voice falling into pain filled gasps. “If I'd know...if I'd ever imagined that you were that boy...I owe you my life, Mitch-”

“Please,” he begged, touching his fingers to her lips to cut off any further words that would cause him even more emotional trauma. “Let me take you to a hospital.”

“So I can recover and die by Jimmie's bullet instead?  No,” she let her eyes slip closed. “None of us deserve that.”

Soft taps sounded beside him, shoes clacking on the bare cement where he and Ashli were entwined.

He didn't bother to look up, didn't give a damn who had been sent to clean up the mess. Feds or mafia – neither was going to convince him to let her die alone. She, who was the most aggravating, insensitive woman he'd ever come in contact with. The devil, he'd called her. But here, broken, dying, welcoming death, he could see her so much more clearly: a child, searching for a way out the only way she knew how. And what she wanted most, freedom from her brother's shadow, was now lost on her. She only wanted to not die by Jimmie's bullet. Mitch knew it shouldn't matter to her, death was death whichever way it came but to her it was a last gift. Jimmie had spent decades killing to protect her – she would not allow him to have her death on his shoulders as well.

“Mitch,” a tender touch landed on his shoulder, “we have to go.”

“Go away,” he grumbled. But the voice was pleading now. Unyielding. Silken fingers slid under his chin, forcing him to look up. “Toni-”

“The police are on their way. Gino's men-”

“Gino?” he shuffled, trying to comprehend. “You can't be here,” he managed.

“And neither can you.” She tugged on his arm but he was still holding tight to Ashli's limp body. “Mitch, look at me,” she whispered, dropping to her knees and clasping his face into her hands. “She's gone. Please, we have to go.”

He nodded, allowing her to drag him forward. Sirens somewhere close echoed into the recesses of his mind and he dropped into the passenger seat of the car Toni led him to, its engine still running. He dropped his head onto the seat back, ignoring the blaring rock music and squeal of tires as she tore out of the alley. He needed to be doing something. Directing her, telling her where to go, how to drop the car. Finding a place where he could get cleaned up so that passersby wouldn't be staring at the blood now raining off him. How could she possibly have lost so much blood in such a short time?  Wasn't that impossible?

“Get out,” Toni's voice was low, commanding. “We need to change cars. Quickly,” she urged, tugging on his arm and moving into another vehicle with darker, midnight tinted windows. “Are you hurt?” she asked tensely, her hands moving over him with lightning speed.

“Knife in my side,” he mumbled. “Rest is all Ashli's.”

She hesitated a moment, watching him, then tapped on the glass in front of her. “Take us to the hotel on Palisade. You know which one?”

“Palmese's airstrip?” the driver asked, his voice much calmer than Toni's.

“Yes.” She turned to Mitch as the driver's partition rolled back up. “Gino's plane is already on the ground but we've got to get you cleaned up first.”

He nodded, dropping his head into his hands. She tried to slip a drink into his hand but he shrugged her off, his thoughts finally starting to become clear. “Where's Jimmie?”

“Erice,” she responded, taking the glass and swallowing the contents herself. “He arrived a few hours ago. Gino's men are picking him up and taking him to the estate.”

“Exile,” he managed with a tight laugh. “And yet we've done nothing wrong.”

“No one is likely to believe that,” she returned and fingered the slice through his now blood red shirt. “Who uses a knife these days?”

“Hm?” he asked then noticed her movements. He offered her a half smile of reassurance. “It was all he had left when I got done with him.”

“I suppose that's something,” she huffed. “Come,” she took his hand in hers as the car slowed to a stop. “Let's get you cleaned up. I need to call Jimmie and Gino and let them know I found you.”

He stopped at the back stairwell as he tugged on the long overcoat the driver offered him. “They sent you to find me?”

“Don't you dare blame them,” she hissed. “I volunteered when we realized you weren't coming to see me but to go after Ashli. What were you thinking?  You're a damn blessed fool sometimes, do you know that?”

“I was almost-”

“In time?” she returned, pushing him into the service elevator and punching the top floor. “Gino was right. Your hero mentality clouds your judgment. Do you think if you got her away there wouldn't be another attempt and another and then another?  Lord, Mitch, even Ashli knew that.”

“I hate this,” he managed as she pulled out a card key and opened the door to Gino's personal suite. “I hate that you are now part of this.”

“I have been part of this since the day I was conceived,” she spat, turning her back on him to pick up the phone. “Go get cleaned up.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Toni tossed uneasily in the slender bed aboard Gino’s plane. Ashli was gone. Jimmie and Mitch were now relegated to Sicily for who knew how long. Her father would soon miss her. Or perhaps not. There was no way to know his mindset these days. Should she tell him she had left to help Mitch, he would be thrilled. But that felt like betrayal...like telling him even the tiniest sliver of information about Mitch and Jimmie would be a personal betrayal against them both. Hadn't the two already had enough of that?

She kicked off the covers in frustration. How could she possibly sleep with everything that had happened tonight?  Images flooded her mind: Mitch drenched in blood; the broken look on his face when she'd torn him away from Ashli's body; his distraction; his obvious guilt over having failed to protect her; his hatred for Toni having been the one to retrieve him. Not hating her exactly, although that was how he made it feel, but more that he had entrenched her even further into a world he wanted her to have no part of.