Ties That Bind (32 page)

“I do know you. I know you are going to demand he keep me out of things. I know he'll act as if he didn't realize his actions were wrong, apology profusely for it and then I'll be left to pay for it.”

“If he lays a hand on you-”

Toni's hands moved to his chest, touching him gently to try and calm his fury. When it failed to work, she pressed closer to him, her hands reaching to caress his face. Her voice was a tiny whisper as she stretched to tiptoes. “You are my best friend. Even when I hated you. Even when I hadn't seen you in any more than a dream for a decade. Don't ever risk something that will take that away from me. Promise me.”

When he failed to respond, she shook him slightly. “Promise.”

Even though it killed him, he shook his head. “I can't. I will protect you, no matter the cost.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Mitch twirled the wine bottle in his hand, reveling in the silence the vineyard garden offered. He had managed to slip out of the lunch early, while the others continued to dine on farm fresh quiche, roma tomatoes and copious amounts of white wine. It was the first time he had been alone since before Ashli's death. All of them – Gino, Jimmie, Toni, Teddy – seemed determined to keep watch over him as if he was suicidal. They'd even hovered as he spoke with Sonny, asking him to make the arrangements to have Ashli cremated and her body sent to a private location where they could hold a memorial service without stepping foot in the States.

He knew they meant well – hoping that their presence would keep his guilt at bay. But no amount of alcohol or crass jokes could accomplish that. Even Jimmie had been allowed time to mourn but none seem to feel that was Mitch's place...none seemed to realize the demons of his own that he was trying to fight.

“It was Vinetti,” Mitch sighed, not raising his head as he heard Gino's heavy footsteps come up behind him. “That night. When I was just a kid. Jimmie shot his father and set fire to the house. He pulled Teresa out, never realizing Ashli was inside. It was Ashli that I pulled out of that burning house.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“So she could destroy even more of your life?” he asked, dropping onto the wrought iron chair across from him. “You were sent off for the crime or have you forgotten? Do you remember what it was like, Mitch?  To say goodbye to your mother, me?” his voice dropped to a mere whisper. “Antoinette?  Do you remember?”

“Every time I breathe.”

“Protecting you will always be my weakness, Vincenzo. I won't apologize for it.” His land lay gingerly on Mitch's knee. “I know you. You would have joined Vinetti years ago if you knew it was her. Just like your mother, you want to save the world.”

“You don't want me with Vinetti?”

“What I want matters little. You and he are good for each other. I can see the changes you have brought in each other. A man needs that to stay alive in this world. Your choices are your own. Just like with Antoinette.”

The shuffling behind him caught him off guard but the citrus smell was a giveaway. He had no idea how long she'd been listening to their conversation but Toni had joined them. Worlds were colliding and he was just too tired to give a damn about covering his tracks. He turned his head her direction, just quick enough to see Gino move and place a hand on her to keep her in place.

“I think, perhaps, he could use the two of you right now.”

And then Mitch saw him. A pace behind Toni, his face blanched to the starkest of whites, Jimmie was leaning against the wall in stunned silence. Even with Mitch's own grief, he knew Jimmie's was a hundred times deeper. “Sit down, Jimmie.”

But he seemed unable to move. It was Toni's soft touch that led him onto the patio and helped him drop into the chair Gino had vacated. Without bothering to ask permission, she slipped to sit beside Mitch, snaking her hand into his.

“I don't understand,” she admitted. “I remember the fire. I remember you and Gino arguing with your mom in the kitchen. I remember the day the police showed up and arrested you.”

“You threw trash cans at the squad car,” he interrupted with vague awareness.

She frowned. “But you saved someone and went to jail for it?”

“They believed it was an initiation of sorts,” Gino provided, then chuckled. “Which he failed, of course.”

“That's why no one knows of any connection between the two of you. He got caught and never made it into your family,” Toni guessed.

“Except those of us right here,” Gino nodded. “That secret has kept him alive. If Mitch is trusting you enough to be here, then I assume he feels you worthy of entrusting his life.”

“Bit dramatic there, Gino,” Mitch grumbled. “You aren't the only reason people want me dead, remember.”

“You saved her, though,” Toni argued, shaking her head. “You should've been a hero.”

“I'm no hero. Especially not Ashli's.” Mitch quieted, closing his eyes and dropping his head to the back of the patio swing as the memories flooded through him again.

It was Jimmie's calm voice that broke the silence. “Don't blame yourself for the choices she made. You didn't dial up the IOC, Mitch. She did this all on her own.”

It was a reprieve. Jimmie didn't blame him for Ashli's death. He didn't blame him for anything. Although kind, the words offered Mitch little solace. He had failed her not once but twice. Perhaps even more times if he counted the opportunities he'd had to get her away from Vinetti Industries since he'd been in their employ. Jimmie might forgive him but he knew he'd never forgive himself.

Mitch glanced across the group. It was time to lay the few cards he could on the table...they deserved what tiny bit of honesty he could offer them. “It was Nicolai that killed Coppell.”

Incredulous eyes turned to look at him but it was Jimmie who found the words first. “What?”

“Toni was there,” he nodded toward her. “He forced her to go along.”

Gino was at her side in an instant, prepared to offer comfort, but she merely shook her head. “He believed Mitch would come to his side once Coppell was out of the picture. I don’t know why he’s so adamant about it. He has a plan bigger than Mitch, I’m sure.” She gave them an apologetic look. “But I’m not privy to it.”

“The table,” Gino surmised. “He knows how deep Mitch’s loyalty can run, believes he can use that childhood tie to unseat me.”

Jimmie nodded. “That makes sense. That’s why he tried to use Toni, why she was so important to his plan. You were inseparable until Gino broke you apart.”

“He believed Mitch would retaliate and join him against Gino.” Toni shook her head. “But he never anticipated-”

“Ashli,” Jimmie exhaled. “He underestimated her. As we all did.”

“And the IOC?” Gino asked.

“Also my father. He had someone tip them off about Markesi and Mitch's connection to him led them straight to Vinetti Industries.”

All behind my back, Mitch thought with only temporary resentment. He couldn't blame the IOC for trying to get the job done. He had obviously been failing miserably at it. Even he could see that now. He wouldn't be surprised to learn that his “accidental” shooting had been staged as well – an attempt to get him on the sidelines so they could get Ashli out and take Vinetti down while he was incapacitated. The mafia and the IOC, he reminded himself, were more alike than they both realized. To know that he was still affiliated with both almost made him vomit.

But to know that neither knew about his liaisons gave him some measure of comfort. His ties with Gino and now Jimmie kept him well protected in the mob and the IOC wouldn't consider him dispensable until they knew for sure he wasn't on their side...they couldn't afford to lose someone as deep undercover as he was. Right now, that was the only security he had.

And it was much too precarious a situation in which to have Toni involved. He sighed, rising to his feet and extending his hand toward her. “Come, Antoinette, I could use a walk.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Mitch sank onto a crumbling wall, a former patio of a home that had been long since taken over with wild orange vines. They draped around them, hanging over their shoulders but he ignored them and slid his fingers into hers, pulling her to stand between his legs. His hand swept to her waist, his hands raking gently against the cotton fabric of her dress. Curls of hair fell over her shoulders, brushing against the edges of his face. He inhaled deeply, memories coursing through him.

“I've wondered,” he mumbled. “You smell so much like this place. Every time you're near, I'm transplanted back. To this tiny village to which you've never even been. It was nonsensical. More than once it has made me believe I was going insane.”

Trembling hands slipped to his hair, her fingers knotting at the bottom of his neck as she pulled him in closer. “Gino,” she explained. “Every year for my birthday he sends me a basket of perfumes and soaps made by the locals. Fresh oranges, sea water and-”

“Black violets,” he nodded, nuzzling her neck. His lips traced the arch of her neck before comprehension dawned and he withdrew his lips from her fragrant skin, his hands clenching to fists against her back. What would it hurt if he gave in?  A fling amidst one of the most beautiful villages in all of Sicily. No one would blame him, no one would ever even have to know. All the frustration, the exhaustion – everything could be erased by the passion he knew she possessed. He lifted his eyes to her, the trusting, childlike eyes he had memorized nearly two decades before. A single night could erase many things...but not if she was the girl. He had already made this mistake once. He couldn't allow himself to do it again.

He dropped his head into her chest, pulling her tight so that his arms overlapped around her waist. She was trembling, he could feel the shivers running up her spine as he held her. He waited, embracing her until he felt her breathing return to normal. When it finally did, he tugged her down to sit beside him on the ledge, folding her hand into his.

“You brought me here to say goodbye,” she accused with a resigned sigh. “Will you always think me a little girl?”

“I will always think you someone who needs protecting,” he corrected. “It's who we are. It's the world in which we live.”

“So I'm not attractive. That way, I mean,” she shook her head in confusion. “I've wondered. Not about you but others. Then men I've known, they always back away as if I'm-” she trailed off, unsure of the word.

Mitch glanced at her, the perplexed look on her face resembling the child he knew so well. He had not mentioned it, the fact that he had taken her virginity on the night of Ashli's death. She was so accomplished in so many ways it had never occurred to him that she was innocent where men were concerned. He had considered talking to her about it, attempting to counsel her with some wise words of wisdom but he'd found his own emotions too rattled to even broach the subject. Instead, he'd befriended her as they had been when they were kids, hoping at the least he could teach her how life was meant to be so that she wouldn't make the same dire mistakes in her relationships as Ashli had. But her words now, the revelation of truth that her father had so mercilessly destroyed her self-esteem without even intending to, caused his heart to ache.

When she was a child, she had never been afraid to ask him anything. She turned to him for dating advice, makeup, the clothes which looked best on the boyish figure that she swore she'd never grow out of. She'd even sought his advice for the color of ribbon to put in her hair. He had told her once, in a self-absorbed adolescent moment, that her ribbons didn't matter because she'd always look like a toad.   He'd never seen her wear ribbons in her hair again.

He lifted her hands to his lips, kissing them gently. “Were you a stranger, I would ravage you right here.”

“Really?” she looked doubtful.

“I'm not the noble creature you suspect,” he laughed. “The bed, the beach, this rocky ledge – I'd tear your calico to shreds and consume you as if I hadn't eaten in years.” He watched her reaction but rather than relief it was something he couldn't quite decipher. He chuckled. “Have I frightened you now?  Will you stay far away?”

“On the contrary,” she murmured, “you have intrigued me.”

“Oh, Lord.” He threw his head back in laughter. “You are an exasperating woman.”

“Now,” she leaned closer to him, her eyes twinkling, “have I frightened you?”

“Indeed.” He nodded, locking her face in his hands and kissing her quickly on the lips. “You have terrified me more than any other soul on the planet.”

“And will you stay far away?” she asked grinning, taking her hand in his and pulling him back onto the main road.

“Doubtful. I'm not nearly that smart.” He let his hand slip into hers as they walked. “Do you remember when I used to hold your hand when you crossed the street?”

“Of course.” She smiled, leaning toward him conspiratorially. “Do you think the local donkeys are planning a drive-by?”

“It's not you,” he said quietly, tugging her forward so he wouldn't have to look into her eyes as they walked. “The men. It's your father they fear. It has nothing to do with you. You understand that, don't you?”

She was quiet, swinging their hands back and forth as they walked. The silence was beginning to worry him but, as if she knew he had reached his limit, she sighed.