Ties That Bind (19 page)

He tried to ignore the infinitesimal mark but couldn't seem to tear his gaze away. Her touches weren't electric anymore but distracting, the curves of her body seeming more destructive than alluring. He dropped his hands to his sides in distraction but she didn't even notice. Like an animal released, she was clawing and tearing at him while he stood unmoving, his lack of responsive movements going unnoticed. She thought she owned him. No, she truly wanted him. He could tell by her desperation that she felt he could give her what she had been searching for all this time. All those men, all those nights, and it had come down to a lowlife hired hand that was best friends with her brother. That he was allowing her to use him infuriated him.

“No,” he murmured, breaking away from her to sink onto the chair. She advanced on him slowly, hesitantly, dropping to her knees and sliding forward to touch him. An earthy scent of rain and grass-nothing he had expected from the prima-donna image she presented to the world- drifted to his senses. She smelled nothing of perfume or bath oils like any other woman he'd been with. Rather a mere trace of cologne mingled with an outdoorsy, almost masculine scent, of crushed pine needles and raw physical need. Like Jimmie, everything about her exuded power, arrogance and defiant manipulation. He knew he couldn't break free from her alone- too much had gone wrong too quickly for him to be able to turn away from the comfort she was offering him.

“Please, no,” his voice was even softer, begging. He had been reduced to pleading with the devil- was this what he deserved?

But just as her fingers began to march against his legs, she was wrenched away. He didn't care. They could be killing her, ravaging her, strangling her within an inch of her life and he had nothing left in him to give a damn. He hadn't been able to protect Sonny, why should he ever believe he could protect her?

“Don't touch him,” Jimmie's voice was hollow, sinister...the voice he reserved for those he intended to kill. He met Mitch's eyes only briefly, his muscles constricting in mutual despair. How had he been so oblivious to the pain he was in?  

Yes, he'd learned Mitch could lie with the best of them when the need arose but to have not seen the guilt over Sonny's life being placed in danger?  Jimmie cursed, furious at himself for compartmentalizing his feelings to the point he'd nearly buried them.

Taking Mitch's arm and steering him to the door, he didn't bother to glance at Ashli when he spoke. “Get packed. We're leaving for Valderice in an hour.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“I let my guard down with her,” he mumbled, not looking at Jimmie as he continued to stuff items into his suitcase. “I'm sorry. I knew better but was somehow unable to prevent it.”

“No one can keep their guard up all the time, Mitch. Although you've been giving it a pretty damn good attempt lately.”

“Apparently not good enough.”

“She didn't realize how out of place her actions were. She doesn't comprehend these parts of this life. To know the grief, the worry, the emotional conflict you can experience when an attack is made. She just doesn't understand. I don't mean to excuse her behavior. It was inexcusable for her to-” he trailed off.  “I'm just glad it was you and not some random jackass she picked up on the street this time.”

“Her demons are her own.”

“Yeah but sometimes she needs to pull her head out of her ass and realize it's not all about her,” Jimmie grumbled. “I asked Teddy to come with us. I hope-”

“That's fine. He deserves the rest. He's been carrying too heavy a load in my absence, I'm sure.”

Jimmie raised a questioning eye. “You haven't been absent.”

“Well, I've obviously not been here,” he responded, tapping the side of his head, “or shit like this would never have happened.”

Jimmie didn't argue, knowing there was nothing he could say that would ease the burden Mitch had placed on himself. “We're putting a load on Gino without warning,” he said instead. “I don't think he'll be too happy about that.”

Mitch zipped his suitcase, his eyes shining with sudden clarity. “You fear Gino?”

“You don't?”

“No. I don’t.” He squeezed his shoulder as he strode past. “Relax, Jimmie. In my presence you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“Somehow that doesn't inspire my confidence.”

“Guys?” Teddy stuck his head through the doorway. “Ashli’s gone.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Jimmie braced himself, waiting for the shot to come. He was four inches away; it was impossible to think he might miss. His mind floundered, wondering why out of all the things he'd done wrong in his life, that he was now going to die because his dumb ass kid sister had run off and screwed some punk she picked up on the street. What a fucked up way to go. Two hours ago he had sent his men scurrying through the entire state assuming his sister was kidnapped. It was Mitch who had suggested the alternative that led them to the upstate house: that she had not been taken but, instead she had run. And now, here they were. Having walked in on the two of them drunk, high and naked. Anger had fueled him until the man had pulled the gun. After that, his brain stopped functioning. As his reverie continued, he realized he felt nothing. No searing pain, no needle point tearing into his skin, no heated trickle of blood.

A heavy hand dropped to his shoulder, Mitch's voice pulling at his senses. “Jimmie, sit down. Take a breath. You need a drink?”

Jimmie let himself be led to a chair, Ashli's screams from somewhere nearby reminding him vaguely of a strangled cat. Mitch's voice was powerful, authoritative, and even Jimmie had to admit a bit frightening in its calm delivery. It would shock anyone to their senses.

“Start acting like a Vinetti or get the fuck out.”

Ashli's simpering stopped, her only sound a sharp intake of breath as Jimmie assumed she tried to get her more basic emotions in check. Jimmie glanced up in time to see some non-verbal exchange between the two of them that he couldn't decipher- a reminder of some previous conversation, perhaps- but Mitch had accomplished his goal. Ashli was standing still, her tears silent, her back straight and waiting further instructions.

“Move away from him before you get blood all over yourself,” Mitch murmured, sliding his gun back into his waistband. “There's a car at the gates. Get in it and get to New York. No stops, no cutesy diversions. Get to the hotel and lock yourself in the suite until you hear from us, understand?”

She nodded but that wasn't enough for Mitch. He shook her shoulders. His voice was softer now, more forgiving. “Tell me you understand, Ashli.”

“I understand.”

“Go.” He stepped out the door behind her, motioning to one of the bodyguards. “Find Teddy.”

“Sir, I can-”

“Find him.”

“Yes, sir.”

It only took a half hour before Teddy stepped into the kitchen of the estate and then immediately took a step back. His eyes danced to Jimmie who had his head in his hands, the dead body lying on the floor and then to Mitch, who was leaning against the counter, sipping a cup of coffee from a still brewing pot. Teddy gave a low, drawn out whistle.

“Looks like you found her,” he murmured and was glad to see Mitch smile. “Want me to clean this up?”

Mitch nodded, then stepped to him and dropped an arm around his shoulder. “My apologies but I called-”

“Because no one else can know,” he nodded. “I understand.”

“I thought you would,” Mitch smiled. “We don’t know who he is yet. They were both high as a kite when we got here. Get prints then make him disappear. Jimmie and I are going back to the city. Come to the hotel when you're done.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Straight to Jimmie and me, all right?”

“Of course. The plane?”

“Keep it on standby. We’ll move as soon as everything is secured.”

“Yes, sir.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Van Halen?” Jimmie asked, tapping Mitch's feet aside to give himself room to sit on the sofa.

“Calming influence,” he answered, clicking off the stereo with the remote and dropping the room into silence. “Eddie is a God. You talk to Ashli?”

He nodded but didn't elaborate. “It's impossible sometimes- this life of ours, isn't it? Does she not think that I would prefer simplicity? That I could go about my business without having to carry a gun or be surrounded by bodyguards?”

“Perhaps she thinks you enjoy the adrenaline rush.”

“Then she's a fool,” he spat but it only took a moment for him to soften. “And I'm a bigger fool for never explaining to her otherwise.”

“That kid had enough coke in him to keep the air force flying,” Mitch offered, shaking his head. “He was going to kill you, Jimmie. Stop beating yourself up and move on.”

Mitch pulled himself to sitting, yanking off the tie that hung loose around his neck and tossing it to the table. Untucking the tail of his shirt, he pulled out his gun and laid it on the sofa between him and Jimmie. He took a heavy draft off his water, letting a hand run through his hair.

“May I?” Jimmie asked, his fingers hovering over the engraved blue steel of Mitch's gun. When he nodded his assent, Jimmie picked it up gingerly, his hands traveling the barrel, his eyes following the intricate detailing.

“No serial number,” he observed. Not a filed down serial number. Just no serial number period. Not even an indention in the weapon where one would normally be placed. It wasn't a customized gun but a custom one. It had likely never even seen the inside of a manufacturing plant.

Mitch was watching him without reply, undoubtedly wondering what thoughts were going through his head.

“That was one hell of a shot,” he offered. “One shot to the neck. He didn't even have a chance to pull the hammer.” Jimmie nodded in admiration. “I've been in a lot of bad situations in my time. Nothing like that. In my own home. I can't explain the feeling that-”

“You don't need to,” Mitch interrupted.

“I've heard stories the past year, you know. About your infamous aim. I've seen the guards at the estate talking over the targets they retrieve after you've been at the shooting range.”

Mitch frowned without lifting his eyes.

“Didn't know that, did you?” Jimmie chuckled.

“I can't believe they don't have something better to do with their time.”

Jimmie placed the gun back on the cushion then shifted to balance his elbows on his knees, his fingers threading together. He rubbed his temples, pressing his eyes closed with his fingertips. “Ashli would have let him kill me,” he murmured.

“Only out of fear.”

“No, I know her. I love her. I've protected her to the point she hates me for it. She would have regretted it later, I know that, too,” he said, shaking his head. “But I also know she stood aside, hoping you would miss.”

Mitch refused to make eye contact, knowing Jimmie was right. It was exactly what she had done. He had raised his gun, leveled it without thought and fired before the piece of shit had a chance to take a shot at Jimmie. And all the while, Ashli had stood motionless, coming to the aid of neither him nor Jimmie.

Jimmie opened his mouth to speak but Mitch placed a hand on his arm, silencing him. “Teddy, come on in.”

He turned around aware, for the first time, that Teddy had entered the suite. He lifted an uncertain gaze to Mitch, wary of how long Teddy had been there. Listening to their conversation, evaluating Ashli's loyalty...witnessing Jimmie's own heartbreak. But Mitch gave him a single shake of his head, reassuring him without words.

“I've taken care of everything. Is there anything else that I can do for you or you, Mr. Vinetti?” Teddy asked, standing before them. “I'm sure you haven't eaten. If I can-”

“You're a good kid.” Jimmie gave him a faint smile. “Thank you for your concern. Would you see to my sister, please?”

“Already done, sir. I have the best men standing guard at her door. With your permission, I'd prefer to stay close.” He gave a solemn nod. “I'd rather not leave Mr. Kerlin or you unguarded.”

Jimmie chuckled and nodded to where the gun was still perched between them. “You think someone is going to get passed him?”

“No, sir.” Teddy shook his head. “I'd just rather he not have to worry about such a thing after, well, after such an eventful night.”

“Hm,” Jimmie glanced to Mitch, noticing for the first time his haggard appearance. Although his eyes were bright, still filled with adrenaline, his body looked as if it was starting to fold in on itself. “Take up a spot outside the suite, okay?”

“Thank you, sir.” He nodded then turned to Mitch. “Mr. Kerlin, Ashli asked that you phone her as soon as you get a moment.”

“Not tonight,” he mumbled, waving him off. “Tell her I'll see her at wheels up.”

“What do you suppose she wants?” Jimmie asked as Teddy disappeared, leaving the two alone again.

“I don't know,” he returned, his voice holding a trace of sarcasm, “perhaps to vilify me for murdering her damn lover? As if I can't handle that on my own.”