Chapter One

New York City looked different after ten years. More cars, more people, more filth. Nothing new about that. With the Great War fading into history and the country rebounding slowly from depression, John Staples knew times were changing for the better. Especially for him. With college in his rear-view mirror, the next step was to secure a job, but first, he needed to take care of an obligation.

While the cab driver tossed his small case on the front seat of the red and yellow Skyline and then trotted around to slide in behind the steering wheel, John climbed into the backseat and sat at a slight angle to allow his long legs an extra couple inches. The mid-day sun beat down on the car’s roof, intensifying the pungent odor of stale cigars and sweat. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of prior passengers, while sweat beaded on his forehead, trickled down the sides of his face, and plastered the starched white shirt to his body. It brought back recent memories of the sauna in the men’s locker room at college.

After a relatively mild May, June had arrived with sweltering temperatures that now blistered the Eastern seaboard. The city was melting, leaving everyone limp and listless. At least his home state of Alabama had been blessed with an ocean breeze off the Gulf for the past several days. He’d left that cool reprieve in Mobile when he boarded the plane headed north.

With hardly a forethought, he reached up and loosened his tie, then hesitated, mentally fighting the urge to remove the noose and suit jacket. No. He needed to be prepared for whatever waited for him at the hotel. His lips quirked up to one side as he pondered the thought of a suit and tie being armor against someone like Vince.

“Where to, buddy?” The driver slammed the car door and glanced in the rear-view mirror, talking around a wad of gum he continued to maul while he waited.

He guessed the man was easily twice his age—old enough to be his father and probably old enough to have seen action in the war. “The Ritz.”

With a quick nod, the driver fired up the engine, cranked the large steering wheel to the left, and with the barest glance over his shoulder, stomped on the gas pedal to send the car darting into the flow of traffic. John tensed, his right foot slamming down on the floor as if his effort could keep them out of harm’s way. Horns blared, but the cab managed to slip between another bright yellow taxi and a passenger car without incident.

“Crazy drivers,” the string-thin man mumbled, his flashed grin prominently displaying teeth tarnished from years of smoking. “They all think they own the road.”

John nodded without comment, leaving the man to shrug bony shoulders and focus on the road. He slowly relaxed his foot, and his heartbeat gradually returned to normal while he pictured the ’34 coupe being reduced to scrap metal. The deep sigh was silent, but blown upward to ruffle the hair that drooped across his sweat-drenched forehead. The hot air blowing through the open window added exhaust fumes and only circulated the heat.

More uncomfortable than he’d been in some time, he lifted a hand to remove the offending tie, but hesitated again. Instead, he leaned to the side, reached into a back pocket, and retrieved the handkerchief to wipe his face. It might be early June, but the oppressive heat squeezed his lungs while he labored to suck in the exhaust-filled air held at street level by towering brick buildings that lined the streets like prison walls.

To his right, a car horn blasted, drowning out the words that accompanied the hand gestures. He’d never understand the hurry—the constant jostling to advance a few inches in the overwhelming congestion.

He cringed slightly as the cab narrowly missed a young man on a bicycle. Horns blared, but the rider escaped. The traffic slowed and became more congested, sure signs they’d soon be in the center of the city—and arriving at the meeting he’d been anticipating, yet dreading, for longer than he cared to think about.

Vince Giovanni.

The name conjured up memories of the only man to ever take time to play catch with him—the man whose picture had made the front page of the Times on numerous occasions. John wasn’t sure what to expect, but if the letter of congratulation for graduating college with an engineering degree was any indication, the meeting would be friendly. Actually, he figured there was little reason for Vince to hold the past against him, but, according to his mother, there was every reason for the older man to summon him to New York under the pretense of celebrating. Of course, if his mother’s warnings were accurate, it might prove to be a very long and uncomfortable afternoon.

This time, his sigh sounded like a soft groan and drew the cabby’s attention.

“Long trip?”

“Just a few hours.”

“First time in New York?”

This wasn’t the time for small talk, nor was he in the mood. There was too much on his mind.

“It’s been a while,” he muttered, allowing his head to relax back against the seat and his eyelids to close. When no further questions were forthcoming, he dismissed the driver, assuming the man would deliver him safely to the Ritz-Carlton, leaving him time to replay the earlier conversation with his mother…

Her words had stabbed—harsh and gritty with emotion while her tear-filled eyes blazed.

“Don’t be naïve. Once Vince gets you up there, he’ll move heaven and earth to keep you there. He’ll promise you the moon—and a few stars for good measure,” she added, making a motion with her hand to imitate something rolling on and on. “You’ll think you’ve grabbed the brass ring, but it won’t take you long to realize what you really have is a ring in your nose, and you’re being fed crumbs while he spends his time and energy on his…his job.”

John had felt the full gale force of his mother’s tirade. Red-haired people were known for their tempers and, at that moment, she fit the stereotype. He’d held off as long as possible before telling her about the invitation to fly to New York, knowing she would lose her temper at the very mention of his stepfather’s name. He’d also known there would be hell to pay when he told her his decision to accept the invitation.

“Mother, he paid for my college. He just wants to celebrate with me—dinner, maybe a stage show. That’s it. Why are you so upset? You’re acting like I’m going up there to join his organization or something.” His chuckle only made her glare harden. Like a statue cut from stone, her face had been cold and unyielding.

Hands jammed on slightly-widened hips, she’d narrowed her gaze, pinning him where he stood. His mother being angry as a wet hen was nothing new, but something had been different about this confrontation. The subject of her former husband historically caused irritation, but not the level of desperation that had radiated from her at that moment. Had the reaction really been anger, or fear?

Why would she ever fear Vince?

“Why in the world would you feel an obligation to fly to New York City and rub shoulders with a criminal?” she’d continued. “The whole idea is crazy.”

He remained silent, not knowing how to answer without making the situation worse.

Her temper eased a bit. “Johnny,” she said, relaxing her shoulders and allowing her arms to lower to her sides, “I’m proud of you—you know that, right?” When he nodded, she continued, “Well, I won’t dispute that you’re educated and intelligent, but book learning won’t help you in dealing with thugs.”

Her breaths became faster again, working up to another temper—and there’d been nothing he could do to prevent it, but stand a bit taller and brace for impact.

“You’re a college graduate, but you don’t know everything. You don’t know Vince—at least not the way I know him.”

“Mother…”

“He abandoned his first wife while she was pregnant with his child. He just divorced her and kicked her out.” She’d reached out to grasp his arm, her eyes stormy, but taking on an edge of pleading. “What kind of man does such a thing?”

He’d never heard any of this before. His mother’s statement made no sense. “So, why did you marry him?”

She wilted before his eyes, her focus on the scuffed linoleum. Slowly, she raised her gaze to meet his. “I was unmarried with a small child to take care of and—and I fell in love with him. Later, when I found out what he’d done to his first wife, I lost respect for the man. Oh, I knew about him being a gangster, but that was his business, not mine. When I found out how he treated her, though, not to mention the total disregard for his child, all I could think about was where I’d be if he got me pregnant. I could no longer live with him. I brought you down here to Mobile to live with my parents. When he didn’t bother to come after us or even call, I filed for a divorce.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He remembered once asking why they’d moved away from New York, and when they’d be going back. As the months passed, he’d gradually accepted that the days Vince would teach him to play cards when his mother went shopping or slip a dollar into his pocket every now and then were over.

“There’s a lot I never told you. You were only twelve,” she spat out.

He’d watched her face tighten, knowing her temper rose again like a roller coaster starting up another hill. He also noticed how much she had aged in the four years he’d been at college, but anger only intensified the effect.

“Don’t you see, son? He’ll get you up there under any pretense that works and then get his hooks into you. He’ll wine and dine you and compliment you on a job well done, and then ask for some tiny favor…” She began to pace, putting some space between them before stopping and turning toward him, a finger raised. “Mark my word, Johnny, it’ll appear innocent, but if you agree, you’ll have sold your soul to the devil. And once you’ve done that little favor, you’ll find yourself knee-deep in the family business.”

The tirade, even the bitter accusations hurled at him about Vince, could be understood and handled, but tears were another matter. His mother seldom cried, but when she did, it ripped out his heart. She would never know how often he’d stood outside her bedroom door over the years and listened to the muffled sounds of her sobbing into a pillow.

So, when she stood there with her fists clenched at her sides and tears streaming down her face, he’d stepped forward to take her in his arms for a hug. “Mother, I’m not joining his business. You have nothing to worry about. My degree is in engineering-aeronautics, nothing that would benefit his organization. I’m going to design planes. Period.”

Her eyes had glistened when she leaned back to look up into his face. “Never forget who Vince is—where his money comes from. Don’t forget what the man does for a living. He loves you, but he lives a dangerous life. I didn’t want you taking his money for college. That was your choice, but Vince doesn’t do anything without expecting payment. Mark my words, he’ll want something from you as repayment on his investment—”

“Here you go, buddy. Safe and sound,” the taxi driver’s gruff voice announced.

John popped his eyes open, momentarily confused as he slid up straighter on the seat.

New York.

In front of the Ritz.

A deep sigh slipped out. He’d hated leaving his mother on such a sour note. He understood her concern, but she needed to trust him to turn Vince down if the man asked him to work for the Giovanni family. He’d been taught in school that history tended to repeat itself, so Vince could just as easily end up like the boss before him. Dead.

He simply felt he owed his benefactor at least the opportunity to help him celebrate. That wasn’t asking too much.

With her final words ringing in his ears, he rubbed his face and mentally prepared to meet his stepfather.

The cabby hopped from the car and rounded the hood, halting when a young man, impeccably dressed in the latest fashion of wide-collared suit and baggy, pleated slacks with cuffs, strode up to him. Some bills were tucked into an outstretched hand.

John stepped onto the sidewalk, then stood watching while the driver silently handed the nameless man his overnight satchel, gave a lazy salute, and then rounded the hood to slide behind the wheel of the cab. The last glimpse he had was the cabby still chomping the wad of gum as he glanced over a shoulder and then shot out into the flow of traffic.

Without knowing why, a shiver ran down his back.

“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Staples, I’ll take you to the gentleman waiting for you.”

With a nod, he fell in behind the man until they were inside the hotel, then stepped forward to walk beside him toward the elevator.

“Congratulations on your recent graduation.”

“Thank you.”

John glanced over when he continued past the elevators. The concierge stepped from behind a counter, then glanced around and stepped back, his gaze dropping to study the reservation book as if it were of great importance.

This felt wrong. Vince had said they’d meet at the Ritz.

He slowed, frowning as the young man put several paces between them before glancing over his shoulder. “This way, sir.”

Questions and possible consequences of a wrong decision played through his mind—weighed, but then discarded faster than a blink. Sweat beaded along his upper lip. Maybe he should have spent a little more time considering those consequences before accepting the invitation, but at this point, what choice did he have?

They exited the building through a rear door where a black sedan waited. The well-dressed young man stepped forward, opened the car door, and stood sentinel.

John hesitated for a moment, then, with heart pounding like a jack-hammer, he climbed into the back seat, the whole time praying these men worked for Vince and not the older man’s enemies.

The driver kept to the back roads, but John recognized the streets and soon relaxed.

They arrived at the compound within thirty minutes. He remembered days spent playing on the high stone walls that surrounded several acres of lawns, trees, and a large house, built with thick, concrete walls overlaid with river rocks.

The arched trellis was still intact with thick-rooted vines climbing up the sides and across the top, and with huge clumps of purple flowers hanging down like bunches of grapes.

Wisteria.

Now, why in the world do I remember that?

Once standing outside the car, he surveyed the area. “Hardly anything has changed since I was last here.”

The driver shrugged, then lifted an arm to point off to the right, indicating the path leading toward the backyard.

“Friendly sort,” John muttered, adjusting his tie and running a hand along his shirt to assure it was tucked in properly.

He felt a presence press up near his back. A shudder ran down his spine even as he sucked in a breath and hesitated. But just as quickly, logic replaced fear. Why would anyone have anything against him? Besides, surely no one other than Vince and his men even knew about the visit.

Still, when a hand gripped his shoulder, he jerked around, prepared to face whatever threat had closed in.

Instantly, his fist relaxed. “Leo,” he said, releasing a nervous laugh as Vince’s lieutenant wrapped him in a bear hug. Two arms clamped him in a beefy vice, preventing him from drawing a breath. The man’s large palm pounded on his back, threatening to leave bruises as evidence of his enthusiasm.

“Hey, boy. It’s been a long time.”

The embrace lasted only seconds—long enough to remind him of the card games and his first puff on a cigarette—two things that would have upset his mother had she known. John sucked in much-needed air, covered his mouth to cough once, and then drew another slow, deep breath.

“You sick, kid?” A frown sent the bushy brows darting together.

“No, no, I’m fine.” He chuckled, trying to reassure his stepfather’s bodyguard and best friend.

“Luggage?”

He held up the satchel that contained a toothbrush, underwear, and a clean shirt. “Nope, just this.”

“Then come on, boy. Vince thought it safer for you to arrive at a hotel, but safer for him if you were brought to the house. He’s waiting, and he’s not exactly a patient man.” Leo released a barrel laugh that drew the other guard’s attention.

John straightened under the pressure of the bodyguard’s arm around his shoulder as the older man took possession of the satchel with his free hand.

“I’ll take care of putting this in your room. You know, the old man never changed it. All the pennants still hang on the walls.”

A nod apparently satisfied him, so John changed the subject. “I’ve been away a lot of years. How is everyone?”

Leo glanced toward the backyard. “We’ve lost a few members over the years. Mostly because of one family—one who deals dirty.”

He knew the man referred to the family who dealt in illegal drugs but wasn’t sure why that should cause a clash with the Giovanni family who dealt in betting and liquor.

“Yeah, Vince is holding off for a bit, but soon they’ll understand their mistake, and some of theirs will be on the dirt side of the grass, if you know what I mean.”

The slow, low-pitched chuckle sent a shiver down John’s back. The man was sharing too much. “I’m not here to join Vince. I’m here for a day or so to have a meal and share old times. I’m an aeronautical engineer now—I’m going to design planes.”

Leo scrunched his brows together. “Oh, sure, kid. Sure. Sorry. I thought…well, never mind what I thought.” He removed his arm from John’s shoulders.

At the fence, they parted ways, Leo heading along the graveled path that led to a side door while he tossed a parting comment over a shoulder. “The old man’s around back. Enjoy the visit.”

He hated making the man uncomfortable, but better that than have him shell out any more information about “the business”—a business he wanted nothing to do with.

John nodded and moved on, but a chill ran down his back. What had his stepfather said to make Leo think he’d be joining the family? Or maybe the bodyguard just assumed he’d want to join the business.

At least the slip alerted me. I’ll need to be more cautious about saying anything that can be misunderstood.

Vince no doubt had reasons for this invitation, but he wasn’t the only one with an agenda. This trip was for one reason and one reason only. Sure, he wanted to see his stepfather again after so many years, but mainly, he wanted to thank him for financing the college degree. Without his help, he wouldn’t now be in a position to realize his life-long dream of designing airplanes. He owed Vince a lot. Loyalty—definitely—but not his life. Of course, if his mother’s prediction was right, there would soon be a job offered that he’d have to turn down.

He prayed his mother was wrong.

Behind the house, a ten-foot, ivy-covered, stone fence surrounded an acre of lawn. Giant oak trees shaded the far end of the enclosure and hid a carriage house left over from horse and buggy days.

He remembered the story about Vince finding a secret tunnel while remodeling the ten by twelve structure to house a few extra beds for times when additional guards were needed. The tunnel led to the cellar in the big house, so Vince told his new wife and stepson to hide there if the compound was ever attacked. He’d assured them only the closest family members knew about the escape route, and those privileged few knew to guard the secret at the risk of their very lives.

He still got cold chills just thinking about the nightmares he’d had as a kid—nightmares where he ran for the tunnel with the hounds of hell on his heels, but the door remained just beyond his reach. He remembered several occasions when his mother came to sit with him until he fell back asleep. Had that been when her disillusionment about being married to Vince first started?

Rounding the side of the house, he took in the cluster of maple trees that had tripled in size over the years and now completely shaded the covered, flagstone veranda where green and white lounge chairs sat in groups of threes and fours. Two burly young men stood sentinel in front of an ivy-covered lattice near the patio.

He took a deep breath and continued on.

“Johnny, my boy.” Vince stood, a broad smile transforming the sharp lines of the older man’s face. “Come, come,” he said, heading forward. He waved his hand like a policeman directing traffic through an intersection.

John hesitated for a heartbeat. He remembered Vince as standing tall with broad shoulders and a piercing look that quailed most grown men. Satan had apparently called in some markers, and time had taken a toll.

“You’re looking good, son.”

He blinked a couple times when his stepfather slapped him on the back and then wrapped him in a hug that felt like old times. The older man was still strong despite the rounded shoulders and hair beginning to gray at the temples.

“How are you, Vince?” he asked, returning the embrace.

“I’m not complaining.” His stepfather chuckled. “Glad you could come, boy. Here…” He turned around and motioned to one of two lounge chairs separated by a small table. “Al, remember him?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “For lunch, he’s making that lasagna you always loved, but first, I asked him to bring us a couple tall glasses of something cool to drink. You look hot. Take your tie off and relax.”

As they sat, Al stepped onto the patio carrying a tray with two cut-crystal goblets filled with ice cubes and a matching pitcher of sweetened tea. The burly bodyguard had a day’s growth of whiskers and a gun strapped under his arm—but he could hold his own competing against any professional chef in town. At least as far as he was concerned.

As Al filled the glasses, John removed the tie, rolled it up, and stuffed it in a pocket of his jacket folded over the arm of his chair, then reached out to take the offering.

The first sip slid down his parched throat, easing the tightness, but not his wariness. Oh sure, he was glad to see Vince, but something was different—off key—out of balance.

He downed half the tea before relaxing his arm to set the glass on the table. The cool liquid tasted good, a hint of lemon to cut the sweetness of the brew, but it settled in his stomach to churn and irritate.

Vince leaned back, wincing slightly when he turned to set his glass beside John’s. “So, how’s your mother doing? How’s Gracie?”

The question came as a surprise, a swing out of left field. “Do you really care—or are we just making polite conversation?” He frowned, his stomach muscles knotting. Why had he reacted with such defensiveness? There was no need to be so rude. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“No, no. I guess it’s understandable,” he said, drawing in a deep breath and allowing it to escape in a long sigh. “I still care about Gracie—regardless of what happened and…”

“What actually happened?” No way could he allow such a great opening to pass without asking one of the many questions that had nagged him over the past ten years. “Life seemed good, and then I’m being moved to Mobile, and I don’t hear from you until I graduate high school. And why did you offer me the chance to go to college? While I’m appreciative, it’s not as if I’m really your son or anything.”

His heart pounded as the seconds ticked by while the older man only stared at him. Would the great don give him a straight answer?

The silence stretched before Vince finally nodded and settled back into the lounge chair. “That was so many years ago, but I guess I owe you an explanation—at least my side of it. I’m sure you’ve heard your mother’s side already.” He flicked at a fly buzzing near his glass.

“No. She refused to speak about you when I’d ask, and wasn’t happy about this visit. Just before I came, she begged me not to join your…business.”

“No, no,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal. “That was never my intention. You’re smart, boy, but you don’t have the right temperament for this line of work. So, what are your plans for the future? Where do you want to work?”

It didn’t escape his notice that Vince had sidestepped his questions, but he decided not to press him—at least not at the moment. “Hughes Aircraft is at the top of my list.”

“Ah, yes, Howard.” He scratched his jaw, staring off toward the end of the lawn before finally speaking. “I met him a few years ago. He owes me a favor. I’ll give him a call and put in a good word for you. Your interview will be a snap.”

“No!” John’s muscles tightened. “I’d rather get the job on my own, if you don’t mind. I was in the top five percent of my class. I won’t have a problem.”

Vince’s eyes widened slightly, then he slowly nodded. “Okay, if that’s how you want to handle it. In fact, I admire that you want to make your own way. You were always a good boy.”

The older man reached for his tea glass, nodding as if affirming his own statement. This wasn’t the Vince from years before. He’d seen the man quietly bulldoze someone into doing what he wanted. Would Vince keep out of the hiring process or go behind his back? He might never know for sure, but not accepting the offer kept him free from obligation.

He gradually relaxed his shoulders but didn’t totally let down his guard. There were still questions to be answered, for him…and his mother. “Vince, you sidestepped my questions a bit ago about what happened between you and my mother, but I have another question—and I’d really like to know the answer to this one.” He had the man’s attention, and his heart rate did a little jig, but now that he had started, forward was the only direction to go. “Before I came up here, my mother mentioned your first wife got pregnant and you kicked her out. Is that true?”

“No.” Vince’s face tightened, his eyes narrowing to mere slits.

The flat refusal followed by silence made him wonder if his stepfather would elaborate or issue the abrupt denial and leave it at that. He had never been afraid of Vince—never had reason to—so why was he dreading the man’s answer to a simple question? If only his mother had kept her concerns to herself.

He forced himself to be patient and wait. It didn’t take long.

“My first wife and I were young.” His scowl eased as he shifted his focus down to large, strong hands. “When I first saw Sadie, it was un colpo di fulmine. Love at first sight.” A deep sigh slowly released into the sultry afternoon breeze. “She thought I was a business man.” He smiled, a shrug barely moving his shoulders. “I wasn’t sure how she’d take me being a family lieutenant, so I kept that part to myself.” He heaved another big exhale and raised his gaze to again stare out across the lawn toward the grove of trees. “Maybe that was wrong. Needless to say, it caused quite a fight when she eventually found out. She was a mulinyan, you know, not Italian. My father told me when I turned eighteen to enjoy the girls, but when I married, be sure she was a good, Catholic girl, and above everything else, she had to be Italian. But I was in love, you know?” He chuckled softly, reaching up to press a hand over his heart.

John remained silent, waiting, not wanting to interrupt the flow.

“She finally asked, and I admitted the truth, but it frightened her. I guess I don’t blame her, especially since the don, my uncle, was killed in a dispute between two of the families not six months later.” He sighed, reached for the glass, and drained it. “Unfortunately for our marriage, I was the don’s replacement. I had no problem with the new job, but my little Sadie turned sullen and moody. I’m knee-deep in a major counter attack—the men all going to the mattresses, you know—and one morning, I find my wife has disappeared during the night.”

“Where did she go?” If Vince was being honest with him, then it didn’t sound as if he’d kicked out his wife as his mother believed.

He fanned the fly away again. “I got business taken care of here and then had a couple of my men find her. She’d moved out to California.”

His stepfather smiled for the first time. John could see the fondness in his expression. But if he still cared, why were they not together? “Why did you divorce her?”

The older eyes narrowed, but after a few moments, he drew in a breath and said simply, “I loved Sadie, but she never understood my way of life.”

John frowned as Vince flicked his hand in a jerky wave, as if wiping the slate clean from years earlier. Was it that easy for the man to dismiss his former wife?

“I made sure she got a job and that the owner of the boarding house where she lived offered her free rent for managing the place.”

“But why didn’t you just go get her?” His next thought hit him in the stomach like an angry fist. Not divorcing his wife would have meant his own mother would have never married Vince—and he would have missed out on having a father, even for those few precious years. He held a breath, waiting for Vince’s answer.

“Things were still volatile between the families, and it wasn’t safe here. The day I found out that Sadie was expecting a baby, I did almost fly out there to haul her home, but another family don thought the time was right to come after me,” he explained, tapping his own chest. “When you’re young, some think that makes you inexperienced and lacking what it takes to order hits that need to happen. I had to prove myself.”

John didn’t bother asking what had transpired for Vince to gain the respect of the other dons. All through high school, he’d read in the newspaper about the long-term Castellammarese war going nationwide when two of their leaders were killed. Eventually, Lucky Luciano somehow got the five New York families, the Chicago Outfit, and the Buffalo Mafia to join forces to regulate the Mafia in America, but it had been a bloody business. The papers reported the American Mafia, or “La Cosa Nostra,” was ruled by a group of men called “The Commission.” He’d cut articles from the newspaper, especially those with Vince’s name listed, and kept a scrapbook, fascinated by the organization, even while being appalled by the death and destruction.

“It took some months to straighten things out, and by then, she’d had a baby girl. I was angry at first, but my consigliere convinced me Sadie and Hannah were safer not being associated with me, and since she was using her maiden name, chances were good no one would ever suspect. For their safety, I allowed them to live in Los Angeles. Of course, if she’d had a boy, everything would have been different. A boy needs a father—someone to teach him how to be a man. But a girl…” He shrugged, raising both hands, palms up. “I sent a man to watch out for them—just to be sure they were safe, that our enemies didn’t know where Sadie and the baby lived. He let me know if either of them needed anything.”

Vince waved a hand in the air as if dismissing something as unimportant. John frowned, not sure how to deal with such easy disregard of a wife and child. Sure, he didn’t have either of those things himself, but he couldn’t imagine living that far from a woman he loved, or not being involved in his child’s life.

“Anyway, after three years, I slipped a few thousand dollars under the table and quietly had the marriage annulled.”

The man’s indifference to having a little girl left John shaken. Vince’s delivery was cold, unemotional. Over the years, he’d learned more about the mafia, so his youthful hero-worship had dimmed, but he had always respected the man’s concern for his employees and his family. Now, he wasn’t sure what to say next.

After a minute, Vince stood, and John followed the older man’s lead, moving into the house. “Something smells wonderful in here.” He didn’t stop the chuckle when his stomach added its unique comments to the conversation.

On the way to the dining room, his host stopped at the upright piano and reached for an oval-framed picture. “It’s five years old, but this is my Hannah when she graduated high school.”

He took the offered picture and stared down into the face of a young teen whose smile radiated with joy and excitement—excitement in life and her accomplishment as she held up a diploma.

The chill started low in his back and spread up to raise bumps on his arms. She was young, but he felt a connection that he couldn’t explain. She was innocent and happy—what he wanted for himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled with abandon and actually felt jovial and carefree.

“She’s very pretty, Vince,” he said, handing back the picture and then wondering why he felt a momentary emptiness.

“Looks just like her mother.”

His first wife must have been a very beautiful woman then. As Vince set the picture back in its prominent place, John suspected the man perhaps had never gotten over his first love.

“Come on, boy. Al has lunch ready.”

The next hour was spent eating some of the best Italian food he’d ever had and talking about the fun they’d shared when he lived in the compound. All too soon, the lighthearted conversation ended, and Vince got serious. He pushed his plate out of the way and rested his elbows on the tablecloth.

“I just thought about something. You’re going to work—apply to work—at Hughes Air, and you’ll need a place to stay. I just happen to know about an apartment house not too far from there—a boardinghouse owned by someone I know—and I heard there’s a room for rent. It’s apparently pretty nice and not too far from the trolley line. I know you don’t want my help with your job interview, but can I at least help you out with a call to hold the room for you?”

John hesitated. He didn’t want to accept any more help that might obligate him to Vince in the future.

“Come on, my boy, let me do you this one little thing.”

Surely, as long as he paid his own rent, there wouldn’t be a problem. Besides, it was the least he could do to let his former stepfather and benefactor give him a helping hand. Not to mention the time it would take for him to find a place of his own. His mother never had to know that Vince helped him find a place to live.

“Sure. Just give me the address. That sounds great. Thanks.”

“Good, good. You know, Hannah lives in that same boarding house.”

John stopped chewing and swallowed. His chest tightened, each breath an effort, as if the words tossed out with such nonchalance had sucked all the air from the room. He fastened his gaze on the don, waiting for what he feared was coming. Had he been set up? Vince looked a bit sheepish, then frowned when John chose to remain silent.

“Well, boy, I guess you need to know the whole story.” He hesitated a few more moments, then lifted his chin a bit, narrowed his eyes slightly, and started. “Recently—a few months ago—Sadie was crossing the street and got hit by a taxi. She eventually died from the injuries.”

Not sure what to say in this situation, he offered the only condolence he could think of, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Vince took a deep breath, released it slowly, and continued. “I wasn’t sure if it was really an accident or if someone had discovered her connection to me. If that were true, then Hannah was also in danger. Like I said before, I had someone living in one of the apartments, so I told him to do some checking. I’ve got enemies. If anyone finds out Hannah is my daughter and where she’s living, they might use her to get to me—try to control me.”

He could understand the don’s dilemma, loving the people close to him and wanting to keep them safe. Still, he couldn’t respect a man who lived the gangster life, believing the end justified the means.

Vince pushed the chair back and turned to directly face him. “Look, keeping Hannah safe is the last thing I can do for Sadie, but I can’t go there and do it myself without putting her in danger. She’s safe for now, and it needs to stay that way, but there’s a struggle for power heating up, and I need all my men here to take care of day-to-day business.”

His body tensed, a shadow of foreboding dimming his pleasure at seeing his stepfather again. He was catching a glimpse of the writing on the wall. The man had maneuvered him—he could feel himself being sucked in. “So, your man is leaving Los Angeles, and you want me to move into her apartment house, right? You want me to spy on your daughter?”

The smile slipped, deepening into a scowl. “No, not spy—just watch out for her and let me know if there’s ever a problem.” Vince reached out to place a hand on John’s arm, a smile replacing the former scowl. “Son, since you’re going to be out there anyway, could you do me this one little favor?”

“Vince doesn’t do anything without expecting payment. Mark my words, he’ll want something from you as repayment on his investment.”

A chill rippled down his arms like water down a gutter.

Mother was right.