When Fates Collide Page 7

  “You’re funny, Mrs. Preston,” Phlegmy says with a thick New York accent. “Too bad your husband was such a fessacchione.”

  “We apologize if you are uncomfortable.” This man is younger, with a smooth, polished voice. “This shouldn’t take too long at all. We’ll make it quick and painless.”

  Oh shit. They’re going to kill me. I decide that going to hell might be worth it if I can torment Ashton for all of eternity for getting me into this.

  “We have gotten word from our friends in law enforcement that you have concerns, Mrs. Preston,” says another man, who sounds exactly like Joe Pesci. “The longer these concerns continue, the longer we’ll have undesired attention. We don’t like unwanted attention.”

  I gulp, preparing myself for them to put an end to my concerns.

  I hear someone coming closer very slowly. With each crunch of leaves under his foot, I jump. These woods are remarkably silent. All I can hear are footsteps and heavy breathing. I imagine this person is psyching himself up to do something stressful, like slamming an axe into my forehead.

  A cold hand touches my arm, and I flinch. I can feel hot breath on my neck. I’m slowly turned around on the tree stump. They must not want to see my face when I die. The bag is slowly lifted off of my head.

  I close my eyes, and suck in the fresh air as though I’m taking my last breath. After a few moments, I dare to open my eyes. There’s a slight, elderly man standing in front of me. He’s unassuming in his posture and dress, but I have a strong feeling this is the man running the show.

  “Hello, Mrs. Preston. I’m sorry for all of the theatrics. My business partners felt more comfortable taking precautions. They’ll be angry with me for revealing myself to you. But I’m eighty-four years old. I can do as I please. As long as you don’t turn around, you’ll be safe. And I trust you, Mrs. Preston. I don’t say that to many people.”

  Too afraid to speak, I nod.

  He smiles. “Your husband has left you in a compromised position. He owed my great nephew quite a bit of money. He made some very bad decisions and involved some very dangerous men. It was all … careless.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment. “Not the way I do business.”

  “Ashton was a child that never grew up. He never appreciated the consequences of his actions,” I say in hopes of showing him I understand who my husband was and distancing myself from him. “When he saw something he wanted, he took it, without thinking about who he was hurting.”

  He pats my arm and says, “Yes, I know. My name is Lorenzo Grimaldi, and I’m Franklin’s godfather. Do you know much about Franklin’s upbringing? Did he talk about where he came from?”

  “Very little,” I respond with a mix of fear and great curiosity.

  “His father, Antillo Messina, was my best friend. His whole life. Antillo wanted a straight, American life for his son and did everything he could to raise Franklin to be a hardworking, honest man. And he was, for the most part. It was his father’s wish that Franklin wouldn’t be part of my way of life. I respected that wish.

  “That isn’t to say I didn’t help out from time to time, but what he didn’t know didn’t hurt him. Franklin worked hard for everything he had. I couldn’t have been more proud if he’d been my own blood. If only his son had followed in his footsteps.

  “As I said, Ashton left you in a compromised position. In a typical situation, I would hold you accountable for his obligations. Even when someone has an unexpected departure, the debt must still be paid. I’m well aware of your financial position and that you have no means to pay down your husband’s debt.

  “But I’m also aware of how you cared for Franklin in the last years of his life. That son of his would have put him in a state-run home and let him rot until he died if it weren’t for you,” he says with disgust, as though it offends him to even have to speak of Ashton. “You cared for him as though he were your own father. He lived out his last days with dignity.”

  “Franklin was like a father to me,” I say. He nods as though he understands.

  “Because of your kindness, I have cleared your debt. Additionally, you’ll be under my protection against other… associates that your husband may have wronged. He was involved with some dishonorable men. I’ll do all I can to ensure you won’t be harmed. Start a new life, Lily. You’ll never see me again, but trust me, I’ll be seeing you.”

  And just like that, there’s a rag over my nose, and everything goes black.

  Seven

  I’m awoken by a gentle slap to the face. “Wake up, Mrs. Preston, and listen carefully. You will tell the FBI you cleared your debt. If you tell them you saw anyone or give them any other details, our deal is over. Trust me, you need that protection, so keep your trap shut.”

  I hear the man talking to me, but I’m still in a haze.

  “Tell me you understand, Mrs. Preston,” he says growing impatient.

  “I understand,” I whisper. The next thing I know, I’m pushed and hit the ground hard. A car door slams, and then tires squeal. As the world comes back into focus, I see a van speeding away. My hands and feet are free. I try to stand, but I’m too wobbly. I guess I’ve been drugged. Looking around, I try to get my bearings, but I’m so disoriented that everything is still a bit blurry. I’m in an alley of some sort¸ but have no idea where.

  I open my mouth to call for help, but my voice is shot. Barely a whisper comes out. I don’t know how long I lie in the alley before someone comes out of the building. I recognize the someone as Travis. I’m outside Jack’s! They brought me to the one place I’d definitely be found. They sure are crafty, I’ll give them that.

  Travis recognizes me right away and runs over. “Lily, everyone has been looking for you! Let’s get you inside and call Sully. Are you hurt?”

  I shake my head no as he scoops me up and carries me in. He puts me down on a sofa in the office, and I immediately lose consciousness again.

  The next time I wake up, I’m surrounded by people in a hospital room. I recoil from the overload. Someone yells, “She’s awake,” and Meredith and Sully come running in.

  “Everyone out. Now,” Meredith orders. “Girl, when I tell you to stay put, you stay put. What the fuck happened to you?”

  Sully hands me a bottle of water. “Here, you probably need this first. Looks like you may have been drugged. We’re waiting on your tox screen to come back to know for sure.”

  After slowly drinking the water, I’m ready to tell the story. “I heard the doorbell ring. We were expecting Meredith to come with dinner, so I went to open the door. It occurred to me too late that you could just unlock the door when you came.”

  I give them all the details up until the part where I met Lorenzo. “They said I was bringing them unwanted attention. That my debt was clear. I think you were right, Sully,” I say. “I can’t remember exactly what they said, but I think that what Maniglia was doing was off their radar. They just want it all to go away. Why take the heat for something they didn’t profit from?”

  He puts his pad away and pats me on the leg. “Ok, sit tight while I go run this by the organized crime guys,” Sully says as he walks out.

  Meredith looks as though she wants to kill me. I may be more afraid of her than I was the mobsters. She yells at me for about fifteen minutes, and I hang my head in shame for messing up. It seems to have been completely forgotten that I’ve just survived the scariest thing that has ever happened to me.

  Greene comes in and says, “Enough, Mer. The girl has been scared shitless. Give her a break. You okay, kid?”

  Before I have a chance to respond, Sully bounds back into the room. “You must have gotten a pardon from on high, Lily. Organized crime said that about an hour ago they were messengered a package with tapes, flash drives, and files on Maniglia. They’re still sorting through it, but there’s enough there for us to take down everyone in his ring. There’s info on prostitution, coke, meth, bookmaking, bribery, extortion—the whole enchilada. Heads are going to roll! We
have nothing on any of the higher-ups, but the organized crime guys say this was a gift. We get to take down this crew, and in exchange, we leave them alone. The crew that operated off-book gets cut out like cancer. It’s a deal with the devil, but sometimes you take what you can get.”

  “So does that mean I’m out of witness protection?” I ask. “I’m not in danger anymore, right?”

  “Don’t know that yet, kid. This particular case will be closed. But we don’t know what is still out there. For now, you can come out of hiding, but we are going to keep in touch,” Greene says. “You can’t go back to Meredith’s house as it’s now a crime scene. Someone will take you over to another hotel. We’ll watch your room tonight.”

  “Greene, look at me,” I say. I try to stress my words with my gaze when I say, “I know I’m safe.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “You leave anything out of your statement?” he asks. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  I shrug. “Greene, I’ve told you all there is to tell. Just trust me when I say I know I’m safe.”

  “When you’re ready to talk about what you’re not telling me, you know where to find me. In the meantime, you’ve had a rough day, let’s get you discharged. I’ll get someone to drive you over there now. You’ll still have to come by the station later to give a statement and sign some papers. But for tonight…” He looks down at his watch. “Make that today.”

  Twenty minutes later, I’m blinded as I walk out of the hospital into the afternoon sun. A Town Car pulls up to the curb, and Sam, my escort from that first night with Gavin, jumps out and opens my door for me. It’s hard to believe that was only a week ago. I feel as though I’ve lived a lifetime since then.

  Sam takes me to a room in the Hyatt this time. After clearing my new room, he hands me a bag. “From Meredith,” he says before he leaves. I take a peek. Brand new pajamas and a change of clothes for tomorrow. I turn her house into a crime scene, and she still gets me a change of clothes. I owe her big time.

  I take another scalding hot shower, trying to burn any remnant of the last two days off of me. The crazy adventure is finally over, and I’m relieved. I can breathe a little easier and finally go home soon. I’ve wanted nothing but to go home since the moment I found out Ashton was dead, but now that it’s going to happen, I realize I’m not sure what I’m going home to. Maybe just a gigantic empty house filled with bad memories…

  Eight

  After getting out of the shower and changing into fresh pajamas, I hear a knock at the door. When I open the door, Gavin scoops me into a bear hug that cuts off my oxygen supply.

  “I was so worried about you,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m so relieved you’re safe.”

  “I’m sorry you were worried,” I squeak out. I pat him on the shoulder. “Can’t. Breathe.”

  He releases me with a laugh. “My apologies. I’m just so happy to see you.” He shakes his head. “You have no idea the horrible things I’ve been imagining.” He looks me up and down, as though he’s examining me for injuries.

  “It was scary, but I’m here now. I even have all my fingers and toes.”

  He looks at my hands, focusing on my fingers. I can almost hear him counting in his head to make sure they’re all there. He lets out a sigh and touches his forehead to mine. “You’re here,” he says.

  This sweet, tender moment touches me. Moments ago, I’d been feeling completely alone, as though I could disappear off the face of the earth and no one would notice my absence. And here comes this man, making me feel like I’m not entirely on my own. My emotional floodgates open. Everything I’ve been holding in since I was taken—about Ashton, all the fear and anger—just comes pouring out of me in heavy sobs.

  Gavin is kind and gentle, holding me, letting me get it all out. I’m appreciative that he doesn’t just tell me to be strong or say it’s going to be alright. I know all of those things, but at this moment, I need to feel it all. All the things I’ve been stuffing down inside me, ignoring and avoiding, I need to face. I let the wave of emotion hit me so that I have a chance of getting through this. My brain is a hot mess of grief, relief, fear, confusion, and sheer exhaustion.

  I’m not sure how long I cry, but from the look of his shirt when I pull away, it must have been a long time. He’s soaked through. I look up at him, feeling completely swollen from crying, and say, “You may need a new shirt.”

  We both laugh. I’m temporarily distracted from my emotional disaster area by the thought of Gavin without a shirt. My mind blissfully wanders back to the boxer brief ads I’d found earlier, and, for a moment, I forget everything. He snaps me back to reality when he kisses the top of my head and turns to leave, saying he’ll be right back.

  Before long, he returns to my room in pajamas. While I lament not getting to see him shirtless, Gavin in pajamas has become one of my favorite things to look at over the past week. I never tire of looking at him. His tight t- shirt shows off a well-defined torso. His pants rest low on his hips, allowing a glimpse at all his abdominal glory.

  When I come back to my senses, I see he’s brought two containers of Ben and Jerry’s with him.

  “I’m a closet ice cream junkie. I bought these downstairs earlier.” He holds up the containers. “Chunky Monkey or Chubby Hubby?”

  His English accent makes me giggle. I feign not hearing him to get him to say the names two more times before he catches on.

  He rolls his eyes and says, “If you’re going to make fun of my accent, I get to choose first.” He goes with Chunky Monkey and throws the other container to me. He takes two wrapped plastic spoons out of his pocket.

  The ice cream is heavenly. Peanut butter and fudge with salty pretzels. Pure euphoria! I point my spoon at him. “How can you be a closet ice cream eater and look like you do?”

  “I work my arse off so I can eat ice cream. Well, you know that at this point. Plus, I’m a fairly healthy eater minus the Chunky Monkey.

  I’m sent into giggles again. I love the way he says that.

  We sit on the bed and eat and talk. He doesn’t ask me anything about what happened but instead tells me funny stories about all of the agents he’s met during the time he’s been here. Like when Sully got so drunk they locked him in the fake cell at Jack’s. Or the day Greene had to bring his daughter to work with him because his wife was sick and she kept him running around in circles. He has me in stitches, which is so nice after the day I’ve had. I don’t know what it is about him, but he sets me completely at ease.

  Too much at ease apparently. I look down and realize I’ve emptied the container in my hands. “Damn it, Oxford. Why is it that I seem to end up doing everything to excess when I’m with you? I’ve eaten this whole pint, and I feel like I’m going to explode. You’re too distracting with your funny stories and your cute accent. I stop paying attention to what I’m doing and keep shoveling it in. Tomorrow, I will not eat or drink until I feel like I’m going to be sick!” I throw a pillow at him and then roll over and moan.

  He puts his remaining ice cream down, apparently having enough restraint not to eat the whole thing. “You have collywobbles? Come here. I’ll rub your belly! Come on, snuggle up!” He motions for me to come closer.

  “Do I have what? Is that contagious?” I tease.

  “You love my Englishness, and you know it. Now come over here and let me rub your tummy.”

  I curl up next to him, and he gently rubs my stomach.

  I have to admit, it does help settle my stomach. Very soon, his rubbing does more than that. I feel a warming down south, and my toes start to curl. Ashton and I hadn’t slept in the same room in years. Once he’d started sleeping around, I saw no reason keeping up the pretense. The thought of sleeping next to him made my skin crawl. I can’t remember the last time someone has touched me with such a gentle caress. As over Ashton as I may have been, this still feels strange. He only died a week ago, and here I am, in bed with the hottest man to ever walk the planet, overrun with thoughts of the myriad of w
ays I can molest him.

  In all the time we’ve spent together the last few days, we’ve never gotten too close. I’ve made a conscious effort to keep a healthy distance between us. A throwback to my Catholic school days, a least a yardstick’s length between us at all times. Not that getting closer hadn’t crossed my mind. Often.

  This is the closest we’ve ever been. Soon, the air in the room changes. It becomes charged with electricity. I think he feels it too because his touch changes from soothing to seductive. The sensation overtakes me, and every nerve ending in my body is standing on end. My breathing becomes heavy, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan.

  I suddenly feel him shift next to me. “I’d better put the ice cream away before it melts,” he says as he jumps up. “I’ll be right back.”

  I try to calm myself down while he’s gone. I drop my head into my hands. What am I doing? The man’s wife just died, for crying out loud! Ash just died!

  I’m sure I’ve misread things. He was just being a nice guy trying to calm a hysterical friend. Not even friend. I’m just this crazy woman that he’s been stuck with all week. There’s nothing going on here other than my libido. She’s been asleep for so long that she must not remember how to tell the difference between a nice guy and a come on. Since I married to Ash, nice guys haven’t been part of my frame of reference.

  Gavin returns but stays in the doorway. He avoids meeting my eyes while he picks at his cuticles. “Maybe I should go back to my room and let you get some sleep. You’ve had such a long day.”

  A feeling of dread overshadows my shame. “I don’t want to be alone,” I whisper. Now, I’m the one avoiding his eyes. “With everything that happened tonight, I just don’t want to be alone right now. I know everything’s all clear now, but I can’t shake this feeling. I’m… I’m scared.”

  He looks at me with sympathetic eyes as he steps into the room and closes the door. “Oh, of course. I’m happy to stay. I don’t want to leave you alone, but I also don’t want to make you uncomfortable. It was one thing when we were in our fort. It was fun and games, completely innocent.” He stares at the bed. “This is different. It’s a hotel. You’re a recently-widowed woman. I would hate to be … inappropriate.”