One Way Out

“Actually, three people. Remember when Tom Mallory was killed just before you left town? Stud was the one who shot him. Several weeks ago, he killed Milo Tandi and a dancer at the Shedd. I won’t bore you with the details. I just thought you’d feel better knowing that he’s locked up.”

“He killed Tom? Why?”

“Because he thought you were sleeping with him. He also tried to kill Jacky and me for the same reason.”

“Oh God.”

She was shaking. In spite of his attempt to remain indifferent, Joey said, “He’s crazy, Rhea. The best place for Stud Williams is six feet under, but instead he’s going to Joliet Prison. I guess that’s the second best place for him.”

She brushed at a tear clinging to her scarred eye. “Joey, let me see Nicci. Just for a minute. Let me explain why I won’t be seeing him for a while, so he doesn’t think I’ve abandoned him.” More tears. “Please.”

Joey stepped forward and pressed another button on his phone panel. The action brought the door swinging open and Gates into his office.

“Yes, Mr. Masado.”

“Find a suite for Ms. Williams. Something with a view. She’ll be spending a lot of time staring out the window.”

Chapter 3

As Joey had so cynically implied she would do, Rhea spent much of the day in front of the living room window, watching the clouds go by.

At times she had gotten so restless that she had paced her plush prison on the forty-sixth floor, wringing her hands and asking herself the same question that plagued her since she faced her son’s father. If she had agreed to sleep with Joey, would he have given in and allowed her to see Nicci?

Rhea touched her eye. She didn’t have a model’s looks, but she was no longer wearing an eye patch and sporting bruises. She’d never been comfortable wearing a lot of makeup, but she’d practiced enough so that the scars on her face were nearly invisible. She’d even taken a hairdresser’s advice and had her hair cut to hide the scar at her temple.

She wasn’t flawless, but… Flawless or not, Rhea admitted, if she got the opportunity to strike a deal with Joey a second time, she would do whatever he asked. If it guaranteed her time with her son, she had no choice.

A knock sounded at the front door sometime after seven. Rhea quickly turned from the window and hurried to answer. Her hand on the doorknob, she peeked out the peephole. When she saw who stood outside, her heart sank.

She hesitated just for a second, and in that second, she saw Joey’s younger brother pull a key from his pocket. Lucky was ten times more frightening than Joey, but Rhea refused to be intimidated. If she didn’t stand up for Nicci, who would?

She opened the door. “What do you want?”

“You. Upstairs.”

Not opening the door any wider than the width of her body, Rhea asked, “Why?”

“Because there’s a problem.”

“A problem? With Nicci?”

Without answering the question, he knocked the door open and grabbed her arm. “We’re wasting time. Move it.”

She shook off his hand and bolted for the elevator. In minutes they were on the top floor of the tower, passing Gates—who looked anxious and very glad to see her.

The minute she stepped into Joey’s penthouse, Rhea could hear Nicci’s screams. Frantic, she hurried through the amber-lit foyer and into the living room, barely noticing its lavishness.

“He’s in the bathroom at the end of the hall.” Lucky pointed to a hall that disappeared around a dramatic S-shaped wall. “Joey was going to give him a bath before he put him to bed.”

“A bath? Oh, no!” Rhea hurried down the hall, led by Nicci’s screams. She thrust open the bathroom door, then stopped dead at the sight of Joey standing in the middle of a square red bathtub. He was fully clothed in an expensive white shirt and gray suit pants, his jaw was set, and he was trying to restrain their hysterical, naked son.

“Nicci, stop before you get hurt!”

The seriousness in her tone brought Joey’s and Nicci’s heads around. Her son immediately stopped thrashing, then thrust out his arms. “Mama! No baff, Mama. No…baff.”

Rhea stepped forward, surprised when Joey thrust Nicci at her. She eagerly took him, and Nicci twined his arms around her neck. His little body was trembling, and she cradled him while she searched for a towel to wrap around him.

Facing Joey, she said, “There was an accident on the beach at Santa Palazzo. It happened about a year ago. Nicci was pulled under by the ocean’s current. Since then, he’s been terrified of water.”

“How the hell did that happen? Weren’t you watching him? What kind of mother—”

“Don’t say it, Joey. I was holding onto his hand. He was only under water for a few seconds.”

“But long enough to make him afraid of a damn bathtub for the rest of his life?”

“Don’t swear,” she said softly, careful not to chastise Joey too strongly in front of his son. “Not unless you want him using that word in school in a few years.”

Rhea kissed Nicci’s silky black head, then turned and assessed the bathroom. Spying the large sink in the middle of a ten-foot vanity, she pulled the stop, then ran warm water into it.

“Nicci, honey, let go of Mama’s neck. That’s a good boy.” She winked at him as his dark eyes met hers. Then she kissed his nose. “Shall we play?”

When he nodded, she eased him from her and placed him on the vanity. Making sure the towel was beneath him, she checked the temperature of the water, then added a little more warm before sliding his bare feet in. “Doesn’t that feel good, Nicci? Wiggle your toes.”

He did more than wiggle his toes. He kicked out both feet and sent water up the front of Rhea’s blue sweater and down the front of her jeans. The second kick lifted the water to the mirror and onto the white tiled floor.

Instead of reprimanding her son, she said, “Joey, a washcloth, please.”

Rhea heard him step out of the tub, heard him swear again, a little more softly this time and in Italian. From somewhere behind her, a thick white washcloth sailed over her shoulder and plopped into the water. Then the door closed, and she was left alone with her son.

A half hour later, Rhea tucked the teddy bear next to Nicci in his bed and kissed his cheek. “If you need Mama, just call out. I’ll hear you. I promise.”

She turned around and found Joey standing in the doorway. He’d changed into a pair of dry pants—jeans that showed off his lean hips and long legs. A steel-gray V-neck sweater covered his broad shoulders and revealed a hint of black hair on his chest.

He’d shaved, but it didn’t soften his set jaw. He was angry with her, possibly even more so now than he had been that morning.

When he backed up, she walked out and started down the hall. Trailing her, he said, “Not too smart making promises you can’t keep, Rhea. Tomorrow Niccolo will have a nanny, and all of his needs will be met by a professional.”

Rhea spun around. “Are you so sure she’ll be able to meet all of his needs, Joey? If she had been here tonight, she would have attempted to bathe Nicci, just like you did.”

“Your point?”

“My point is that no matter how good your nanny is, she won’t be able to replace me. Nicci’s afraid of water, and you can tell that to your professional, after you’ve frightened your son half to death. But do you know what to tell her about his allergies, or are you planning on jumping feet-first into that unknown territory, too?”

“Allergies? What kind of allergies? You said he was healthy.”

“He is healthy. Just allergic to carrots.”

“Carrots? What else?”