your cousin.”
“He didn’t do me any favors at the trial. I’m cutting out of here as soon as I walk out that door. I’m starting a new life.”
“I hope you make it. One drink before you go?”
“Yeah. Coffee. I’ve got to stay alert.”
Rico slammed a fist into the top of the bar. “What do you have to do get service in here?”
The waiter ambled over. “Name your poison.”
“I’ll take a scotch on the rocks,” he said, letting his voice slur a bit. “Give my buddy here a coffee. He’s had a few too many.”
“You have, too, if you’re driving.”
“Hell, no, I’m not driving. I got me a room right on Bourbon Street.”
“Good for you. Drinks are coming up.”
The waiter looked to be about twenty, a couple of years younger than Vincent had been when all hell had broken loose and life as he’d known it had exploded in a burst of machine-gun fire and flowing blood.
Now he was thirty-seven and felt as if he were a hundred. Prison did that to you. Yanked those rose-colored glasses of youth off your nose and crushed them under the feet of hundreds of brawny, tattooed thugs who all wanted to prove they were tougher than you.
The coffee was thick guck, heavy on the chicory. Vincent drank it quickly, then nodded and headed for the bathroom. When he came out, Rico was gone. Vincent put a few bills on the table and slipped out the door. Fifteen years had been a long time. He wondered if Candy Owens would recognize him.
He’d find out soon enough.
Chapter Two
Janice glanced at the clock on the dashboard as she pulled into the driveway of her home in the Chicago suburbs. Seven-thirty. Not bad timing, considering that they’d sat in stalled traffic for over an hour after a wreck on the interstate.
Kelly roused herself from the rap-induced coma she’d been in for the past hour, pulled the headphones from her ears and had the car door open by the time Janice came to a complete stop.
“Grab some luggage,” Janice reminded her.
“Mom.”
Kelly managed to stretch the word into three syllables, registering her irritation. “Why do we have to unload the car this minute?”
“Surely you can walk into the house with a couple of suitcases.”
“I will, but I was going to see Gayle first. I haven’t seen anyone in a week.”
“You’ve seen me, and I was someone last time I checked.”
“You know what I mean. Besides she’s leaving for New Orleans first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, but don’t be too long. Gayle’s mother picked up our mail for us this week, so bring that home with you.”
Janice watched her daughter barely skim the grass in her haste to visit her best friend and next-door neighbor. The two girls would have had to have been joined at the hip to be any more inseparable. Janice was thankful Gayle lived so close and that her mother was almost as protective of Kelly as Janice was.
In fact, Gayle’s mother was as close to a real friend as Janice dared to have. She and Joy Ann didn’t actually do anything together, but they chatted at the mailbox and occasionally shared a cup of coffee discussing the trials of living with a teenage daughter.
Reaching back into the car, Janice grabbed her keys from the ignition. She unlocked the back door to the house, then retrieved a box of grocery items from the SUV. The odors of coffee and overripe bananas mingled in her nostrils as she carried the box inside and set it on the counter.
Only there shouldn’t be a smell of coffee. They’d used the last of the grounds that morning and she’d thrown the empty bag away. She glanced at the coffeemaker. The light was on. Apprehension swelled on cue.
“Hello, Candy.”
Damn. She lunged for one of the kitchen knives in the wooden block. Vincent caught her from behind before she could. His fingers tightened around her wrists. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
She tried to jerk away from him, but he held on tight, pulling her to him so that her back was pressed into his chest and his breath was hot on the back of her neck.
He released his grip slowly, and she turned, gulping in a quick breath of air as she got her first look at what almost fourteen years in prison did to a man.
He’d been so young before, Hollywood handsome and boyishly seductive, with his mischievous smile and dark, dancing eyes. He was still handsome, but the lines in his face were hard and his chin looked as if it had been carved in granite. The muscles in his arms were more pronounced and his dark hair was cut so short, it barely covered his scalp. A scar ran from just below his left ear to under his jaw.
Only his eyes were still the same. Piercing. Mesmerizing. She shuddered and looked away.
“How did you get here?”
“I drove. The car’s parked in your backyard.”
Out of sight because he knew she’d have noticed a strange car parked in the driveway. “How did you know where to find me?” Her mind was already jumping ahead, thinking of how she could protect Kelly.
“Anybody can be found if someone really wants to find them.”
“They had my funeral.”
“I know. That was a smart move. I didn’t buy it, but then prisoners tend to be a cynical bunch. And here you are, sweet little Candy Owens, alive and kicking in Illinois.”
“The name is Janice Stevens now. How did you get in without setting off the alarm?”
“Alarms only keep out honest people and stupid burglars.”
“And you’re neither.”
“Right. So where’s my daughter?”
She’d never told Vincent she was pregnant, but the investigation and the pretrial hoopla had been in full swing while she was carrying Kelly. News reporters had dogged her every step, asking her if the baby she was expecting was a Magilinti. She’d denied it vehemently.
“If it had been your daughter I was pregnant with, I wouldn’t have kept her.”
His muscles flexed; for a second, she thought he was going to slug her, but he exhaled slowly. “I’ve been here for two days. I’ve seen her room. I’ve seen snapshots of her. Nicole, or whatever you call her now, is a Magilinti.”
“I call her by her name. Her name is Kelly Stevens.” She’s pretty. Smart, too, and a good swimmer. I saw her academic achievement awards on the wall of the den and the swimming trophies in her room. You’ve done well with her.”
The
