No One to Trust (Hidden Identity Book #1): A Novel (6 page)

In the hospital trauma room, Alessandro Raimondi stared down at his nephew’s gray face. Nineteen-year-old Pauli Greco. His sister’s youngest boy. Her baby. The child she wanted kept out of the business.

The child who was now dead because Raimondi had allowed him to take part in an assignment he hadn’t been ready for. Pauli’s eavesdropping and subsequent demand had led to him being a part of the plan. But why he’d been allowed to come along didn’t matter.

“I should have said no,” Raimondi whispered.

“You didn’t have a choice.” Pauli’s twenty-nine-year-old brother, Agostino, drew in a ragged breath and pushed aside tubing and trash left behind by the doctors and nurses. Symbols of failed efforts to save Pauli.

“About some things, I have no choice. This life I lead, I had no choice about.” He touched Pauli’s now cold cheek. “Him? I had a choice about.” Sickness swirled in his gut. First Georgina and now Pauli. Fury burned a hole in his chest. His nephew’s heart no longer pumped blood, but every beat of Raimondi’s cried out for revenge. David Hackett. Just thinking the man’s name nearly brought on a migraine. “I want him dead.”

“Not without suffering.”

“Oh, he’ll suffer.” They fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts and grief. Raimondi rubbed a hand down his cheek. “We’ll get him tonight. And if we don’t, we’ll get those he loves.” He pursed his lips. “Hayes said there was a picture of two children on their dresser. Find out who they are. We may need to use them.”

“Noted. How are you going to find Hackett?”

“I have my ways. Don’t worry. It will be done. By tomorrow morning, Summer and David will be dead.”

“What about the laptop?”

“We’ll have that too.”

Agostino nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Mama is going to be inconsolable. She’ll never forgive either of us for allowing Pauli to go with us. Especially after what happened with Georgina . . .”

Raimondi heard the rough grief in Agostino’s voice along with the subdued rage. “Yes. That’s why she can’t know how he died.” His sister loved Raimondi’s daughter, Georgina, like her own. She’d birthed four boys, but Georgina was the daughter of her heart. And David Hackett had dealt Georgina a crippling blow. Raimondi’s heart seethed.

Agostino’s eyes jerked up and met his uncle’s. “You think you—we—can keep it from her?”

“We have to. This is my fault. I should have stopped this. Kept him safe.”

“He insisted on being a part of it. He was a man, able to make his own choices.”

But Raimondi shook his head. “It won’t make a difference to your mother. All she will know is that her baby is dead.”

A pause fell between them. Then Agostino asked, “What will we tell her then?”

Another long pause, then Raimondi looked up at his nephew. “We tell her that he’s dead because David Hackett gunned Pauli down in cold blood.”

Agostino frowned, and for a moment Raimondi wondered if he would argue, but soon the young man’s brow smoothed, his jaw hardened, and he gave a short nod. He leaned over and kissed his dead brother on the forehead, then turned on his heel and strode through the double doors.

SATURDAY MORNING

5:00 A.M.

David clenched his teeth against the shafts of pain shooting through his ribs and slowly turned over on the bed to look at the clock. Adam had handed him a pill bottle and told him to take one for pain. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t take a chance and dull his senses when he might have to run at any time, might have to protect Summer.

He’d lived with pain before, he could do it again.

When they’d arrived at the safe house last night, Summer had said, “I’m tired. I can’t take anymore. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Then disappeared into her bedroom.

Should have been their bedroom.

David sighed and sat up with a wince. Five in the morning. He might as well give up on trying to sleep. He leaned back against the headboard and dropped his chin to his chest.
Lord, I did what I thought was the right
thing at the time. When I married Summer, I wasn
’t a Christian, but I’m a different man now
. I know there are consequences to actions and I’ve
made some pretty rotten choices. Please don’t let the
fallout be disaster. Again. And spare Summer no matter what
else happens.

As he often did, David thought of Ron, an older man who’d
saved his life last year—in more ways than one—and wondered where he was.

David grabbed the remote from the end table, shifted on the bed trying to find a comfortable position, and finally gave up. He clicked the small flatscreen television on and found a national news channel.

His door creaked and he grabbed his weapon, aiming it.

Adam stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

David let out a breath and lowered the gun. “You trying to get yourself killed?”

“No, I saw the light under your door. Figured you were awake.”

“You forget how to knock?”

“Sorry. Didn’t want to wake anyone else up.”

David gestured toward the chair in the corner and grimaced at the movement. “Have a seat.”

Adam sat. “You should have taken one of the pain pills.”

“Would you?”

Adam shrugged. “Maybe. If I had a couple of superior marshals guarding me.”

David almost smiled. “No you wouldn’t.”

“True enough.”

The reporter on the television caught his interest and David upped the volume. “And in New York, a murderer with a connection to the Mafia is set to go to trial in just under three weeks. Sam Gilroy was caught on video shooting and killing one of his employees, Carl Hyatt. Mr. Gilroy’s partner, David Hackett, was thought to be in the building at the time of the murder since his car was seen in the parking lot early that Saturday morning. However, Hackett has been missing since Sam’s arrest a little over a year ago.”

A picture of David from a little over a year ago flashed on the screen. He’d had dark black hair then, not the reddish blond he now sported. And he’d had a goatee and mustache. David reached up to rub his clean-shaven face.

“Sam’s trial is big news,” he muttered.

“It’s the Mafia connection.”

“Have they said who the judge is going to be for the trial?”

Adam gave a slow nod. “Judge Parker Holland.”

“Holland. Figures.”

“Yeah, he seems to draw a lot of the Mafia cases.”

David hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, he does.”

Adam must have noticed his reticence. “What is it?”

“Nothing really.” David took another hard look at the TV. “He has a good reputation for being fair and honest even though those connected with the Mafia seem to get too many breaks, if you ask me.”

“If the cops don’t do their jobs right, the judge can’t hold them.”

“I know, I just don’t have to like it.”

“From what I’ve heard and read, he’s a stand-up guy. Former military, got the nickname Steamroller as a criminal lawyer.” Adam shrugged. “He’s one of the best, isn’t he?”

“So it would appear.”

“Then it’s a good thing he’s got this case.”

“Right.”

Adam sighed. “Look, I know you and Summer are having a rough patch right now, but . . .”

He stopped and David looked at him, curious as to what the man had to say. “Go on.”

“I mean, I know it’s not my business and we don’t even know each other that well . . .”

“Will you just spit it out?”

Adam gave a low chuckle. “Yeah.” He rubbed his chin. “Summer seems like a fine woman. A good one. She’s strong and obviously has a temper. She’s also smart and I . . .” He shrugged. “I hate to see you two give up on a good thing.”

“I have no intention of giving up,” David retorted.

“Good, good. Because family is everything, you know?”

David studied this man who now stood before him. He had a
feeling in a different time, a different place, they would have been good friends. “No, I don’t know that. I’ve never had much of a family, but this last year with Summer has shown me what I’ve been missing.” He ran a hand through his hair and felt the tug on his ribs. “I’m not giving up on her. Ever.”

“Good.”

David shifted and then stopped trying to get more comfortable. It wasn’t going to happen. “Just out of curiosity, how did Mike get Summer to agree to go with him?”

Adam grimaced. “He told her a little lie.”

Oh great. Another lie. “What was that?”

“He said she had to go with him because his car was parked in front of your house and Raimondi had already run the plates and found out he was a cop.”

“Ah. Summer should know better. If Raimondi had someone run the plates, the marshals would have been all over that. And Mike’s information would never have come back he was law enforcement.”

“Summer was a little shook up at the time. When she’s thinking more clearly, she’ll figure it out.” Adam shrugged. “Mike was doing what he had to do to keep her safe, saying what he had to say. Maybe she’ll appreciate that one day.”

“We’ll see.” He figured another lie would just send Summer deeper into her pit of anger. Not a happy thought.

“What’s on that laptop that’s so important anyway?” Adam asked.

David studied the man. “Pictures.”

“What kind?”

“The kind my buddy Sam used for blackmail. The kind someone didn’t want released to the media.”

Adam narrowed his eyes. “Who are the pictures of?”

“I don’t know. I have a vague description of the man, but other than that, his face has been blurred out.”

“What’s he look like?”

David shrugged, then winced. “He’s an older man, I think. Either that or he’s prematurely gray. And really, it’s not even gray. He’s got a shock of pure white hair that stands out on his forehead right here.” David showed him on his own head. “And then there’s a tattoo.”

“A tattoo? Of what?”

“A snake. On his left bicep.”

“So he should be pretty easy to identify if those pictures got out.”

“Oh yeah.”

Adam rubbed a hand down his face. “What were the pictures of?”

“He was meeting with mob boss Alessandro Raimondi.”

“I see.”

“So, depending on who he is, he may not want people to know he’s in cahoots with Raimondi.”

“That’s for sure.” Adam gave him an easy slap on the shoulder. It still hurt. “I’ll leave you alone. You need to rest if you can. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

He left and for the next fifteen minutes, David watched the news and felt his eyes grow heavy in spite of the constant throbbing in his ribs, the shooting pain in the left side of his face, and the gnawing hunger in his belly.

He closed his eyes.

A scuffle outside his window sent his eyes wide. His muscles tensed and yet he didn’t move. Didn’t hardly breathe as all of his special forces training shot to the surface and sent his senses on high alert. He glanced at the clock. He’d been asleep about an hour.

He moved off the bed, ignored the aches and pains screaming at him, and pulled on the jeans he’d tossed over the chair.

David wrapped his fingers around the grip of the Glock and slipped next to the window. The house had an alarm system, but they wouldn’t care about that. Once they were in, the distracting noise might even work in their favor. For most attackers. Fortunately for David, he knew how the game was played. At the edge of the window, he tried to see around the blinds and couldn’t.

With one finger, he dipped the blade just enough to see out.

His blood went cold.

Three shadowy figures, barely illuminated by the half-moon, moved like eels through the darkness, gliding, writhing up to the front of the house, then dividing, one going to the east side, the other toward the west. The third one slithered up to the front door.

David moved as fast as his injured body would allow. In the hall, he nearly ran into Adam, who had just come from the den.

“They’re here,” Adam whispered. “Backup’s on the way.”

“I’ll get Summer.” David slipped into her room, grateful she hadn’t locked the door.

She lay still beneath the covers, earbuds still in her ears, iPod on the pillow beside her. She slept in her usual spread-eagle position that normally had him hugging the side of the bed. He rubbed her silky shoulder and she jerked into a sitting position, her hair whipping into his face. He breathed her familiar scent and wished he had time to linger, kiss the side of her neck like he did almost every time he had to wake her . . .

Sleep fled from her gaze and anger blazed. Before she could lambaste him, he said, “They’ve found us, we’ve got to go.”

The anger faded as his words registered. Without a word, she threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed to grab the clothes she’d tossed on the floor. He swallowed hard and looked away, his sense of loss nearly smothering him. How he loved her . . .

“How much time do we have?” she asked as she stuffed the iPod in her purse and slung it over her shoulder.

Tamping down his feelings, he grabbed desperately for the wall he used to have no trouble erecting when he didn’t want to feel something. With Summer, it never seemed to work. “None.”

“Then let’s go.” He could hear the fear behind her attempt to sound brave.

“Not so fast. Wait on the marshals. Get your vest on, now.”

“We’re here.” Chase Tollison had his weapon ready. Adam was on the phone right behind him.

“How’d they find us?” Summer asked as she snapped the last button on the vest.

David shook his head. “Don’t know. We’ll worry about that later after we’re safe.”

“Where are we going?”

“Good question.” David clasped her chilled fingers and pulled her after him. Adam led the way. Chase pulled up the rear. “What’s the plan?”

“Get to the car and go from there.” His fingers pressed the earpiece tighter into his ear. “One’s on the roof.”

“There are three of them,” David said. “I saw them approach and split up.”

Adam grunted. “They don’t know who they’re tangling with. Head toward the back door.”

“The back?” Summer asked.

“There are three vehicles. One parked at each exit,” David murmured. “Safest way out right now is the back.”

Summer nodded and scooted up behind him, her fingers tightening on his. He hated that it took danger to get her this close. But this was the route he’d chosen. Now he needed to focus on traveling it.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

Then the home alarm started blaring. A gunshot rang and David ducked, pulling Summer down with him to the floor. He rolled and huddled over her, trying to discern where the shot came from. She shoved against him and he grunted with the sharp pain that sliced through his ribs, but he refused to move.

Adam stood next to them, crouched, weapon aimed down the hall behind them.

“The car, David, to the car,” Mike yelled over the ear-shattering noise. He turned from the den window.

David rose. Pain traveled through him, but he pulled Summer to her feet.

Chase motioned to the back door as a bullet pierced the window next to Mike. Mike ducked and swore, then dared another glance through the broken window. “Backup’s here.” Into his radio, he said, “Don’t shoot. Repeat. Don’t shoot. We’re still inside. Hold your fire.”

David hoped they listened. After staying alive and outwitting Raimondi this long, he had no desire to die by friendly fire. Summer ran a hand through her hair, her eyes darting from one marshal to the next. Then to the door.

He squeezed her fingers. “Hold tight, babe.”

A shadow moved from the living room, lifted his weapon. David lunged to the left with Summer, Adam lifted his gun and fired. The figure grunted and spun back into the dark of the room he’d come from.

“Go!” Adam pointed to the door as he raced toward the man he’d just shot.

Mike herded them toward the exit while Chase brought up the rear.

As Mike reached for the knob, the door burst in.

David shoved Summer down and spun, arm outstretched, the heel of his palm connecting with a chin. The man howled as his jaw snapped. With a swipe of his foot, David clipped the surprised attacker’s legs out from under him. Chase came from the left and tackled him the rest of the way to the floor.