I called to tell my father about Mom’s stroke, we had no idea that Nicci had been kidnapped. But he’s coming, Rhea. On his way right now. He’ll be here in a few hours. We’ll tell him what happened, and he’ll know what to do. He loves Nicci. You know that.”
Yes, she knew that. Frank thought the world of Nicci. That wasn’t up for debate. What was, however, was how to defuse the time bomb that had started ticking the minute Joey had learned he had a son. And that’s what would be foremost on Frank’s mind when he learned Nicci had been taken by Joey.
But how could she tell Elena any of that, without explaining the rest? Without telling her that her father, Frank Palazzo, resident of Key West, Florida, was also Frank Masado, a member of the famiglia in the Chicago-Italian mafia. And if she went that far to disclose his double identity, she would have to tell Elena all of it. She would have to confess that Frank was Nicci’s grandfather.
Elena believed she was an only child. She had no idea that she was the half sister to Joey and Tomas Masado. She had no idea that her father had been previously married, or that he’d been juggling two separate lives with well-crafted scenarios and tightly woven lies to keep them all safe.
When Frank had brought Rhea to Key West three years ago, he had told Elena that he’d hired a live-in nurse for Grace. And that’s how Rhea had been disguised—how the household at Santa Palazzo had come to accept her.
Grace’s health over the years had gradually gotten worse, and she needed constant care. Rhea had been a nurse in Chicago for seven years. The situation had worked on all levels.
“Talk to me, Rhea. What can I do to help?”
“I don’t want your mother to know what’s happened. She’s too fragile. She needs bed rest and no excitement for at least forty-eight hours. And your father…when he learns what happened tonight he’ll know why I had to…”
“Leave. You are, aren’t you.”
“I can’t wait, Elena. I’ll go crazy waiting for your father to get here.”
Elena reached out and tugged Rhea to the bed. Pulling her down to sit next to her, she said, “Mother would have died tonight if you hadn’t been here to help her. If you leave, she’ll have no one.”
Rhea pushed her long blond bangs out of her eyes. “You’re wonderful with your mother, Elena. You are why your mother has survived all these years. You and your father. She’ll be fine until Frank comes. He’ll order a replacement nurse within twenty-four hours.”
“Why can’t we just call the police and tell them that Nicci’s been kidnapped? Tell them that you know who did it, and—”
“I can’t do that,” Rhea said quickly. “Nicci’s father is a powerful man in Chicago. When I left I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. I didn’t say where I was going, either. I just left. I had my reasons. Good reasons. But…”
“I was always curious about Nicci’s father,” Elena admitted. “Is that where he gets his black hair and dark eyes? Does his father have black hair? You’re so fair, and Nicci’s so dark.”
“Joey’s Sicilian. His family…” Rhea glanced at Elena’s dark hair, then her earthy brown eyes, “they all have black hair and dark eyes.”
“Did you run away because he hurt you, Rhea? Was it Nicci’s father who gave you the scars?”
Rhea saw Elena focus on the thin white line on her lower lip, then on the one that slipped into the corner of her left eye—the scar that had made her wear an eye patch for months. The scar that had nearly blinded her.
“It wasn’t like that. Joey never hurt me.”
Elena frowned. “Then, I don’t understand.”
“I was in an accident.” Rhea shivered, remembering Stud’s angry eyes as he’d picked her up and hurled her through her bedroom window. Her ex-husband had claimed he hadn’t meant to hurt her, just to knock some sense into her. Elena didn’t need to know the sordid details of Rhea’s past, however, or the dangers that threatened her once she returned to Chicago. And likewise, Rhea didn’t want to dwell on her ex-husband…or Joey.
Especially not Joey.
There was no rational explanation for falling in love with him three years ago. It had been one of those crazy chance meetings at a time when she should have been too wary of any man to notice the black-haired Sicilian in the hospital corridor during one of her unscheduled late-night visits.
At the time, she didn’t know what caught her attention first, the meticulous way he dressed or his shockingly deep voice. Later, she came to realize it was neither. What had drawn her to Joey Masado was the hidden tenderness in the depth of his dark eyes despite his poignant tough-guy image—a goodness and a fairness that defied reason, as well as rumor.
“How soon are you leaving?”
The thought of returning to Chicago scared Rhea. But she forced a weak smile. “As soon as I can book a flight. While I pack, will you call the airport? I need to get out of here before the storm hits and they start grounding planes.”
And before Frank comes home and tries to stop me.
“Will you come back?”
“Yes. I’ll be back. With Nicci.” Rhea knew that it was the only way to defuse the time bomb—if she and Nicci returned to Santa Palazzo. How she was going to manage that wasn’t clear just yet, but she would focus on that once she had faced Joey and knew that Nicci was all right.
Elena shoved her long black hair away from her face, and stood. “I’ll call the airport.” She headed for the door, then turned back. “I love you and Nicci. I know I’ve never told you that, Rhea. But it’s true. I can’t imagine either of you not in my life.”
The uncertainty of the situation brought tears to Rhea’s eyes, and she came off the bed quickly. “I love you, too. I’ve always wanted a sister, and you’ve been that to me. Thank you for accepting me into your home, Elena.”
“Oh, Rhea.” Suddenly Elena rushed back and threw herself into Rhea’s arms. “If you need me, I’m here. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget me.”
The drive to the airport was hampered by heavy rain. When Rhea boarded the plane it was in a downpour, the wind so savage that she was glad she had worn jeans and her brown suede jacket.
When the plane was finally airborne, she pulled the silver cross from her pocket and stared down at it. Unbidden, the image of Joey, half naked, wearing the silver cross nestled against the black hair on his chest materialized, and with it a fierce longing that had her feeling anxious as well as frightened.
Three years hadn’t dimmed his powerful image or the emotions that had kept the memories alive. If anything, the years had sharpened the picture in her mind’s eye, and strengthened her belief that for a brief moment in time she had experienced heaven on earth.
It rained throughout the night. All the way through Florida and Georgia. Hours later, Rhea changed flights in Nashville, and as she watched the dawn of a new day from her seat among the clouds, a small private aircraft made its final descent onto a runway at Chicago’s O’Hare International. And like the tough Sicilian heritage Niccolo Joseph Masado had been born into, the black-haired two-year-old
