twelve

Nate cursed as the car ahead of him sped up and bumped Merritt’s car.

He’d known the second car was tailing Merritt. It hadn’t occurred to him that actual harm was the intent.

It should have. Samantha Carroll was a threat to virtually every branch of the Merritta family as well as to opposing factions. Organized crime was just that—organized and carefully controlled. Unknown elements rarely were controllable and therefore were to be eliminated.

The car following Merritt accelerated, and Nate realized he wouldn’t be able to close the distance between them in time. Not if the driver of the second car was serious about doing damage.

It was. The car rammed into Merritt’s again, this time leaving no room for doubt that this was more than a friendly little warning.

Neither Merritt nor the driver of the car following him seemed to notice that Nate was gaining on them. He was in his personal car—a 1990 BMW he’d bought cheap in a government sale—which he’d thought would be less obvious in this neighborhood. Now he regretted the fact he didn’t have a radio.

He’d known from the phone tap on Merritt’s home that she would be at Paul Merritta’s. He’d lost her earlier, and that had irritated him no end. He didn’t intend to lose her again.

Merritt took a turn leading to the Boston Post Road, obviously hoping to outrun whoever was following him.

Nate checked the road ahead and behind, and floored the gas pedal, his gut twisting at the thought of Samantha Carroll in the car ahead.

He thought of everything they’d discovered about her in the past few days. Samantha Carroll of Steamboat Springs, Colorado. Model citizen, pillar of the business community of her town, excellent credit rating, member in the local Better Business Bureau and active in the Chamber of Commerce. Master’s degree in business from Stanford. One speeding ticket that he could find.

And then there was Samantha Carroll—daughter of crime boss, twin sister of suspected accomplice, if not mastermind, of money laundering operations and heir to the reins of the “family.” Samantha Carroll—obvious target of opposing factions.

And someone was after her. But who? Opposing families? Or members of her own newly discovered family?

Maybe both.

She’d looked more promising than he’d ever imagined. She was a respected member of the community, a role she would probably like to keep both for herself and for her mother.

If she didn’t cooperate voluntarily, he might have a weapon there.

He pushed away the twinge of guilt he felt. Putting away the Merrittas justified a hell of a lot of personal reservations about his methods. Paul Merritta had never had any reservations about murder. Nate’s stomach tightened at the thought, at the memory that never left him.

But now her life was in jeopardy and he found he didn’t give a damn about using her.

The car ahead was closing in on Merritt’s car again. Merritt, he knew, had a sports car, but tonight he drove a dark sedan that was no match for the large car on its tail.

Nate noted the make, model and license number of the tailing car. Like his own, the car was expensive. Unlike his, the windows were tinted.

Nate saw a stop sign and a car turning into the road. He hit the brakes to avoid striking it. His car skidded several feet, almost hitting a fence. He backed up, but then another car had cut in front.

He swore as he tried to maneuver around the two cars that blocked him. He leaned on the horn but that only got him a finger in the air from the car ahead. The traffic in the other lane was steady and he couldn’t get around them. Then they hit a light, and he was neatly pinned in. Blocked.

Merritt’s car and the one following it disappeared.

Hell with this. He edged onto the shoulder that was far too close to a fence. Hearing the crunch as the side of his car hit the fence, he managed to get around one car, then the other. He speeded up and turned onto the main road.

He almost passed it. Would have if he hadn’t seen the car parked on the edge of the road, its lights off. He slowed, stopped, just as he saw a man dressed in black slip inside the car. The car screeched off, leaving a trail of gravel and dust behind it.

He wanted to go after it. Instead he looked down and saw the passenger side of a car smashed against a culvert.

He parked his car, called 911 on his cell phone, then left the BMW, half sliding, half running down the hill.

Samantha Carroll was trying to tug a large body away from the wrecked vehicle. He saw the smoke, smelled the gas.

“Get the hell out of here,” he said.

“No,” she said. “He’s unconscious.”

“Damm it, I’ll get him.” He leaned down and put an arm under Merritt’s. He half lifted him. Samantha disobeyed and put her arm under the other one. Together they dragged, half carried him. A loud whoosh followed by an explosion filled the air as they stumbled away from the car.

The three of them fell forward, flattened to the ground by the blast and the wave of heat. A wail of sirens joined in the hellish chorus.

Merritt was unconscious, either from a head wound or loss of blood. Nate rolled him over and tore Merritt’s shirt open. Blood poured from a neat hole in his arm. He was also bleeding from a number of cuts inflicted by shattered glass. So was Samantha Carroll.

Merritt’s wound was obviously more pressing.

“Help him,” Samantha whispered as she struggled to sit. “Please.”

Silently Nate tore a piece from his shirt and pressed it down on the wound. Samantha held Merritt’s head. “Help’s coming, Nick,” she said. She made her voice low, soothing, steady, startling Nate with her presence of mind.

She turned to him. “Thank you.”

He wanted to take credit, which might put her in debt to him. But oddly enough he couldn’t quite do it. Not when she had risked her own life to save her brother.

“You did most of it,” he said honestly. “What happened?”

“Someone forced us off the road, and then a man in a ski mask came down and …”

“And?”

“He pointed a gun at me. Nick leaned in front of me. He was hit with a bullet meant for me.”

A police car roared to a stop above them, then an ambulance, followed by another police car. Emergency techs came sliding down the bank.

He stood and held out a hand to her, helping her to her feet. Perhaps he would have a few moments to earn her confidence.

But that hope was dashed when he recognized one of the police officers. The man had been burned recently by the FBI, his bust ruined when the Bureau took the suspect in as an informant.

The officer took one look at him, then at Nick Merritt. “What in the hell.”

“Someone forced him off the road,” Nate said.

“And you were just behind him? A coincidence, I suppose.”

“No, I was following him.”

He saw Samantha stiffen, a momentary suspicion cross her face.

“And how did he get shot?”

Samantha broke in. “We were forced off the road, then someone—wearing a ski mask—came down and shot at me.”

“But Merritt was hit?” The officer’s voice was full of disbelief. “And a mystery man in a ski mask just disappeared?” He looked back and forth between both of them. “We’ll need statements from all of you.”

An EMT finished putting a pressure bandage on Merritt. Another was bandaging one of Samantha’s cuts. “That will have to wait,” said the first as he looked up from where he was kneeling next to Merritt. “They’re both going to the hospital.”

“I’ll go with them,” Nate said.

“No way,” said the officer, putting his hand on his holster. “That’s Nicholas Merritt. We had a call someone was forcing another car off the road. You stay here until my sergeant comes. We do this by the book.”

Nate had no choice but to watch her climb the hill with the help of an officer as two EMTs carried Merritt up on a stretcher.

She looked back toward him, then continued her climb to the road.

Then she was gone.

The family gathered in the sunroom. They were all there, everyone but Paul Merritta. He had gone to bed, sedated and watched over by a nurse.

Victor poured them all a glass of wine. “What’s he up to?”

George gulped down his drink. “Did anyone know about this disaster?”

“You’re with the family’s law firm,” Rich said wryly. “If you don’t know, how would we?”

“Someone had to know she was alive. I know the background. I know about the accident. I also know Papa was out of town then. One of you had to help identify the bodies.”

No one said anything.

George glared around the room. “It had to be Victor or Rich.”

“Not necessarily,” Anna said. “Pop also had enough friends to see to it.”

Victor gave her a grateful look. “I swear it was as much a surprise to me tonight as to anyone. Don’t you think my interests lie in maintaining the status quo?”

“But why?” George said. “Why bring her here?”

“We all know he wants Nick to succeed him. Maybe she’s some kind of leverage.”

“And do any of us know what Nick wants?”

“Nick says she was attacked the night before last,” Victor said. “Maybe my brother thought she was in danger and believed she would be safer here. Or that Nick could protect her.”

“We all believed she died thirty-four years ago,” Rich said. “Who would—?”

He stopped in midsentence at the look on Victor’s face. “You know, don’t you, Victor?”

But Victor’s face had gone blank.

“I still think it’s because of Nick,” George said. “He’s just been biding his time, building that goddamn company as a front,” he said bitterly. “You know Papa. You do what he wants and he walks all over you. He only respects those who stand up to him. Nick’s no fool.”

“But what does the woman have to do with that?” Anna broke in.

“I don’t know, but I see Nick’s hand in it,” George said.

“However she came here, it’s a disaster,” Rich said. “If she participates equally in our part of the estate, then Nick might be able to take control of everything. As the will’s written now, he gets a third of everything if he agrees to take over the businesses. If Paul adds her, and she sides with Nick … they can control all the businesses.”

“I’ve seen his will,” Victor said. “She’s not included.”

“Could he have changed it?” Anna asked.

“Damned if I know,” George said.

“You’re the family lawyer.”

“He’s never talked to me about the will. Pembroke still handles his personal business.”

“Can you talk to him?”

George shook his head. “He’s never liked me. I took away the bulk of his business. I wanted to cut his retainer.”

Victor turned to Anna. “Talk to Reggie. You can twist him around your finger. Find out whether Pembroke has been in to see Paul.”

Anna frowned. “Even if he hasn’t, it’s only a matter of time. You must have seen the way he looked at her. And she apparently has Nick’s protection.”

“How long do you think Nick’s known about her?” Victor asked.

“He met with her yesterday,” Anna said.

Victor looked at her. “How did you know that?”

“No great secret. Nick told me.”

“He didn’t say anything else? He believes she’s really his sister?”

“He didn’t, at first. I think he does now.”

“An imposter?” George said hopefully.

“With that hair and eyes? I don’t think so,” Anna said. “And Pop would know. He would be sure with something this important. His body might be failing, but his mind isn’t.”

“There’s another question,” Victor said.

They all looked at him.

“Someone tried to kidnap her. Or worse.” Victor looked around the room.

“Don’t look at me,” George said. “I didn’t know about her until today.”

“None of us did,” Anna added.

“Someone did,” Victor said.

“Maybe they can take care of our problem,” George said with a small smile.

“Pop will kill anyone who harms her, particularly since he sent for her,” Anna pointed out.

“That begs the question as to why.” George said. “Why try to see her after all these years?”

“An act of contrition?” Anna asked.

No one believed that for a moment.

“He’s dying,” Victor said. “He’s not thinking right.”

A silence settled around the table.

George met Victor’s eyes, then nodded.

Victor rose. “It’s been a long evening. Let’s see what we can find out and resume this conversation tomorrow.”

One by one, they left the room.