Chapter 1

1

Odalie Everett sat seemingly relaxed in her seat on Tony Garza’s private jet, but inside she was a bundle of nerves. She and Tony had been adversaries since their first meeting, years ago. He mostly looked through her, and he could be bitingly sarcastic. It should have deterred her from thinking about him, but it didn’t. He was gorgeous.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he lounged opposite her in a chair, sending text messages on his phone. He frightened most people who knew him. Tony had been a crime boss for a significant portion of his life in New Jersey. He had a reputation that sent chills down the backs of people who crossed him.

He didn’t look like a man who made his living on the wrong side of the law. He was tall and husky and drop-dead gorgeous, with black eyes and wavy black hair, cut conventionally short. No beard or mustache. A big nose and big hands and feet. High cheekbones and a piercing stare that could go through people like a sliver of ice.

Not that Odalie wasn’t gorgeous, too. She looked like her mother, Heather Everett, with long light blond hair and blue eyes in a lovely face. Besides that, she had a voice like an angel. She’d studied opera for years now, been in various local artists programs in her native Texas, been overseas to study with master coaches. Now she was living in New York, near the art gallery and museum where Tony made most of his money, studying with a famous local coach while she girded her nerve to apply to the Metropolitan Opera.

She’d never shared her stage fright with her mother, who was a former singer. Her family had sacrificed so much for Odalie already. She told herself that she could overcome it. But several therapists had been unable to help her break through the fear. And one doctor had warned her that the stress of performing daily onstage could eventually cause cardiac issues. It was the dream of her life, to sing at the Met. Or it had been, before Tony stormed on to the scene when Odalie’s brother Tanner was in danger and almost killed for something he’d witnessed overseas.

Tanner’s wife, Anastasia—Stasia in the family—worked for Tony. He’d discovered her phenomenal art skills, had put her through school so that she could work as an art restorer for him, and her paintings, almost lifelike, sold for a fortune in his gallery. Tony called her his adopted daughter. He’d been widowed years ago, his young wife having died of cancer, and he had no children. He looked after Stasia, pampered her and put up with her best friend, Odalie. He did the last thing reluctantly and with obvious bias. He’d barely spoken to Odalie in the past.

But during a visit to Texas, the one they were returning to New York from now, something had happened in the Everetts’ living room, where Tony and Odalie were looking at a delicately beautiful fairy statue created by Odalie’s friend Maddie Lane Brannt. They’d looked at each other in a way that neither of them was comfortable with, and it had caused this sudden and violent silence between them.

Tony had said multiple times that he had only one use for women. Everybody knew he had a mistress in New York, where he had a huge estate on Long Island and a penthouse apartment in Manhattan near his art gallery. He’d also made it very clear that Odalie wasn’t in the running. Too young, he said sarcastically, and too perfect.

It didn’t help. She couldn’t fight the feelings she’d developed for him. Knowing his background, the difference in their ages...nothing helped. He was striking, not only because he was handsome, but because of his manner. He was afraid of nothing on earth, and he never backed down. To a Texas girl, those were admirable traits. She came from a family of men who were comparable, her father, Cole Everett, being the foremost of them. She admired strength and character. Tony might be a hood, but he was elegant and highly principled. He didn’t go after people he didn’t like. Only the ones who harmed people close to him. But once provoked, his anger could be deadly. There were rumors that, like his friend former mob boss Marcus Carrera, he knew how to use a gun and had, in the past.

These days, though, he was gaining a reputation as a highly respected art dealer who never cheated his clients and made sure every piece he sold was thoroughly vetted, so no fakes passed through his hands. Not only that, he made sure that they were acquired legally, not obtained in some back alley by that most dastardly of archaeological bandits, the pothunter. Tony was legitimate. It was how he’d made his fortune.

Now, in addition to his old home in New Jersey, he had a mansion on an estate in the Hamptons and a fabulous penthouse apartment in Manhattan, the envy of many friends. The penthouse housed some of his most famous objets d’art and a housekeeper, Helene Murdock, who kept the place running when Tony was away. He also had men who served as bodyguards. The head of his security force was Big Ben, who’d been with him for years.

Ben, tall and husky like the boss, but a few years younger, sat in the back of the plane playing video games on a Nintendo Switch. He had whole setups in his rooms, both at the mansion in the Hamptons and at the New York apartment. But he had handheld games that he loved. He also had a big gun that rode in a holster under his jacket. Odalie had seen him practicing with it once, at the lake house Tony maintained on Long Island.

The residence was a sprawling yellow two-story house with a four-car garage, ten thousand square feet of floor space on an equestrian-zoned property, close to an airport and farmland, and only sixty miles from Manhattan. Perfect for a man who loved the ocean, which was close by, and horseback riding. There was a stable near the mansion where Tony could rent horses for guests. The home had several bedrooms with full baths, a swimming pool, a tennis court, and every amenity known to man. Odalie, who’d grown up on a similar property in Texas, felt quite at home there when she went to parties on the property with Stasia. She didn’t want to. Tony made his disinterest so plain that she felt guilty just being there.

He also had a fabulous apartment in a high-rise in Manhattan, close to where his art gallery and museum were located. He threw cocktail parties at the apartment and the gallery, hosting important events with some of the most famous names in Hollywood and sports, as well as people from New Jersey whom he’d done business with and old pals who seemed a bit twitchy in the rarefied company.

Odalie liked the New Jersey bunch best. She was used to being around cowboys, who would have been equally uncomfortable with the jet set, but Tony was careful to keep her away from anyone from his hometown of Trenton. She’d never understood why. Stasia said that was just Tony. But his hostility to Odalie had convinced her that it was very personal. He didn’t want her near his old friends. What little she learned about them, she liked, but she was never allowed close enough to gossip with any of them.

Her oldest brother, Tanner, had recently been targeted by Phillip James, a former colleague, now head of a supersecret agency in the government. Tanner had witnessed a massacre of civilians, which James had been responsible for. Tanner had been the target of an assassination attempt by James to keep him from telling what he knew. However, the attempt had failed, and Tanner had disclosed what he knew of the massacre. He was waiting, and hoping, for a congressional hearing on the matter.

But there was one fly in the soup. There was a rumor that Phillip James had a powerful senator in his corner, one who could—and possibly would—stonewall the investigation. James also had influence on the Hill, and he could use it. If he did, if he managed to weasel out from under the charges somehow, it would put Tanner right back on the firing line. Odalie loved her older brother. He’d been alienated from the family for years because of his harsh treatment of Stasia, to whom he’d been married. Their relationship had recently been patched up and they’d remarried, to the delight of the family, who loved Stasia. She was Odalie’s best friend, next to Maddie Brannt, who made the beautiful little fairy statues, one of which Tony had commissioned for his gallery.

That had been another difficult and broken relationship, Odalie’s with Maddie. When they were in high school, Odalie had victimized the other girl and almost got her killed. It had resulted in charges and probation, but Odalie had managed to come through it almost unscathed. She’d persuaded Cort Brannt, who’d once been infatuated with her, to let her drive his Jaguar. In the process, she’d accidentally run over Maddie. Her recovery had been long and hard, and being needed by another human being had turned Odalie’s life around. She’d taken charge of Maddie, called in specialists, paid all her medical bills. And in the process, they’d become friends. In fact, Maddie was the first real friend, except for Stasia, that Odalie had ever had. Odalie had conspired with Cort to find a buyer for Maddie’s gorgeous little fairies, and now the other woman had a lucrative profession. She and Cort were very happy together and, in fact, expecting their first child. Odalie had already been asked to be the godmother, and that was a true honor.

“We’re landing,” Tony announced, barely glancing at her. “Ben and I will drop you off at your apartment on the way home.”

“Oh, I could get a cab,” she said at once and then flushed, because it sounded ungrateful.

He gave her a long, measuring look. “It’s not out of our way. But suit yourself,” he added in a biting tone.

She swallowed. Hard. He was intimidating with that level stare. “Then, if you don’t mind...”

He just shrugged and averted his gaze back to his phone.

They stopped at the curb and Ben carried Odalie’s suitcase to her apartment on the quiet street with trees and a nearby coffeehouse. It was like living outside the city, but in the city, in an updated one-story house with all modern conveniences. It was even pretty on the outside, with wrought iron banisters and a stone front, with long windows behind which elegant lacy white curtains fell to give their owner some privacy.

“Thanks, Ben,” she said, smiling up at him.

“No problem. Listen,” he added gently, “the boss has moods. Always has had. Don’t let it upset you. He’s got some little problems lately. Nothing big. But it makes him broody. It’s not you or anything you done. Okay?”

The smile grew bigger. “Thanks,” she said huskily. “It just seems like sometimes he hates me, you know?”

“A lot of people think that,” he chuckled. “That stare. One guy said Tony could kill you with his eyes. I know just what he meant!”

“Me, too,” she laughed. “Thanks again for bringing my bag. It gets heavy.”

“I noticed. See you.”

“See you.”

She forced herself not to look toward the stretch limo, where Tony was sitting behind tinted windows. Probably still glaring at me , she thought as she unlocked her door and carried her bag inside.

Phillip James was almost purring as he spoke to the senator. “You don’t want me to tell what I know about you,” he spoke into the phone. “Now, do you?”

There was a grating pause. “No.”

He almost laughed at the force with which the single word was uttered. “I didn’t think so.” He drew in a breath. “So you’ll tell them you can’t dig up any evidence of wrongdoing.”

“I’ll tell them.”

“I’m counting on you,” James replied, and he hung up.

It was a relief. Tanner Everett had put him in a bad position. It was rotten luck that the man had so many damned scruples and that he’d actually protested the accidental killing of a few civilians. The operation hadn’t been that important, and they’d been attacked by some members of a village. He hadn’t paid much attention to where he was shooting. Automatic rifles weren’t so easy to control in the heat of battle. Everett made him sound like a murderer. It wasn’t as if a few ragged civilians would be missed in that mud-hut society. So some of the victims were children. What the hell. Stuff like that happened in firefights. Nobody got all up in arms about it. Well, most of his men didn’t. Everett wasn’t like the rest.

He’d tried to have the man killed in an overseas assignment. A handful of young agents had paid the price for that fumbled attempt, and now Everett had even more ammunition against him. But he couldn’t really prove anything. James had covered his tracks in South America, just as he’d covered them in Iraq. And the senator he was blackmailing wouldn’t dare go against him. One whiff of what James had in his office safe would cost the senator not only his well-paid career, but his reputation as well.

He leaned back in his desk chair, smiling to himself, and picked up his cell phone again. He dialed a number.

“Hi,” he said. “How’s things?”

“Hi, Dad” came the bright reply. “I’m just studying for exams,” his son replied.

“Study hard,” he told the boy. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life supporting you.”

It was an old joke. They both laughed. James’s wife had died years ago. It was just his son, Bob, and him at home now. Not that Bob was at home. He was taking classes at a nearby college, learning to be an architect. The boy had real talent. He could draw so well. If there was one chink in James’s armor, it was his son. He’d do anything to keep the boy safe.

Over the years, there had been one or two attempts to get back at him through his child, but things had been quiet for several years now. He’d relaxed his scrutiny. Everett was the only real enemy he had at the moment, and that man wouldn’t lower himself to attacking a soft target like James’s son. It was one of the only things James admired about Everett. He only wished he’d known about the man’s ironclad principles before he’d tagged him to go on that black ops job in Iraq. It had come back to bite him.

But now he had a senator, and a powerful one at that, in his back pocket, and Everett couldn’t threaten him anymore. Life was good.

“You coming home this weekend?” James asked.

There was a slight hesitation. “Well, there’s this party,” his son began.

“Never mind. Have fun while you’re still young,” he replied, concealing his disappointment. After all, the kid was only nineteen. Let him enjoy college and all its perks.

“Thanks, Dad. Next weekend for sure,” he added brightly.

“For sure. Take care. Love you,” he added softly.

“Yeah. Talk to you soon.” He hung up.

James sighed. Maybe he should have been a little firmer with the boy when he was younger. He lacked a lot of social graces, and he wasn’t sentimental. But then, neither was Phillip James. Not at all.

Odalie was trying to hide her sadness while she took her voice lesson. She couldn’t understand why she’d become so morose lately. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was her monthly that was making her melancholy.

Maybe it’s Tony , she thought, and clamped down hard on the memory of that glare he’d given her before she got off the plane.

She hadn’t even thanked him for the ride, she recalled with a grimace.

“Now, now, young woman. Less absentmindedness, more attention to the notes,” her instructor chided with a smile.

“I’m sorry,” she said at once and laughed. “I’ve just come from my home in Texas and I’m missing my family.” It was a half-truth, but he seemed to accept it.

“At least you have a family to miss,” he said gently. “I lost my wife twenty years ago and we had no children. If I could not teach, I would have no life at all. I love my work. Especially, I love finding talent such as yours to nourish.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “You have no idea how happy I am to have found you to train me.”

He just shrugged. “Your voice coach in Italy is an old acquaintance from my youth. I value his opinion.”

“I’m afraid that I wasn’t the best of pupils,” she confessed. “I’ve changed a lot since I studied with him.”

“So I’ve noticed,” he said with a wicked grin, and she knew that he’d probably heard about her very snobbish behavior from his friend.

She’d left Italy in a huff because she didn’t agree with her instructor’s assessment of her vocal skills. It seemed like another life now, because she’d changed so much.

“I had a tragedy—or a near tragedy—in my life not too many months ago,” she told him. “It changed me as a person. I think sometimes the best lessons we learn are from the worst things that happen to us.”

“I totally agree,” he said. He smiled. “You are very easy to work with.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t in Italy, as I’m sure your friend told you. It seems like a lifetime ago,” she added, shaking her head. “I’ve learned so much since then, and not just about ways to protect and project my voice,” she added with a smile.

“That, I hope, will stand you in good stead when you finally muster enough nerve to audition for the Metropolitan Opera,” he said firmly.

She grimaced. “I’ll do it. But not just yet,” she said.

He shook his head. “Well, as they say, the time will not be wasted as you train. But you must not wait too long.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

“Excellent. Then, back to work!”

It was only a week later that Stasia called. “Hi,” she said brightly. “How are you doing?”

Odalie sighed. It was Thursday and she had another boring, lonely weekend to look forward to. “I’m lonely and homesick,” she confessed. “How are you?”

“Pregnant” came the smug reply.

Odalie laughed. “I know. I’m looking very forward to being an aunt in a few months.”

“I’m looking forward to being a mom,” Stasia said on a sigh. “It’s like a dream, marrying Tanner all over again and living happily together. Not so long ago, that would have been a pipe dream. He’s changed.”

“So have I,” Odalie confessed. “I still can’t believe I was such a brat. You’re not spoiling my nephew or niece, by the way, just so you know,” she teased. “I’ll be watching from the sidelines. I won’t disturb you, but I’ll advise, so be warned.”

“No secret there.” She hesitated. “Speaking of disturbing things...”

“Phillip James has surfaced again?” Odalie guessed worriedly.

“Nothing so dire. But there’s going to be this huge house party at Tony’s over the weekend at the Long Island mansion...”

“No!”

There was a pause. “I haven’t even asked you yet,” Stasia said, exasperated.

“It’s still no,” Odalie said shortly. “He glared at me or ignored me all the way home on the jet. My self-esteem can’t survive a weekend of that.”

“It can, and it will, because I’ll be there, too,” Stasia said gently. “We can share a room. I’ll protect you from Tony.”

“Why do I have to go?” came the plaintive reply.

“Because if you don’t go, I can’t go. Tanner’s gone militant on me about the baby,” she laughed. “He’s afraid that I’ll do things I shouldn’t. I won’t, but that’s beside the point. He says if you go, it’s okay if I go. And I need to go because Tony’s trying to pry a Renoir out of the hands of an elderly gentleman who plans to leave it to his only son. The son thinks art treasures are ridiculous, and he says he’s going to trash his father’s collection when the old man dies.”

“That’s history!” Odalie exclaimed, horrified. “Would he really do that?”

“The boy has a very bad history of doing things just like that in the name of activism.”

“What sort of activism trashes historic art?” Odalie asked.

“The sort that wants to wipe out history altogether and start over.”

“But art is beautiful,” Odalie said, from her heart. “It’s the story of mankind in oils. It’s a legacy from the past. To even speak of destroying such treasures is...is... I can’t even think of the words!”

“Neither can I. So we have to go to Tony’s place this weekend and talk the man into selling the collection to Tony.”

Odalie ground her teeth together. “I guess I can stand a weekend around him, if I’m blindfolded and gagged.” She paused. “Is his mistress coming?” she asked, trying not to sound as if it bothered her.

“No,” Stasia said. “She doesn’t really like the Long Island house because Tony always hires horses. She’s deathly afraid of them.”

Odalie gave a silent thanks for that small mercy. Tony’s mistress was beautiful and even kind, Stasia told her once. She had a reputation for being snarky, but that was only when she was upset at something, and outbursts were rare. She sort of shared Tony and two other men. Why it didn’t bother Tony was something Odalie, who’d never indulged, couldn’t understand.

“Okay,” she said.

Stasia hesitated to put into words what she was really thinking. Was Odalie jealous of Tony? There was so much antagonism there that she truly wondered if there wasn’t a powerful emotion underneath it, and maybe even a mutual longing. Not that either of the two stubborn people would ever admit it. Not presently, anyway.

“I’m going to fly up Friday morning. Do you have a lesson then?” Stasia asked.

“No, my teacher has a doctor visit then.” She laughed. “He says he spends three hours in the waiting room every time. But the doctor spends a lot of time with all his patients, including him, so he doesn’t really mind. A lot of medicine these days is supermarket-style. Get in, get out, don’t talk, just listen.” Odalie sighed. “It’s not like that back home. Our doctor always has time for us. Up here, I just go to quick-care places if I ever have to. And it was only once, for a migraine.”

“Don’t eat chocolate,” Stasia said firmly. “Got that?”

Odalie hesitated. She grinned. “I might have a few chocolate-covered cherries Friday morning...”

“Don’t you dare!” came the reply. “I’m not spending my weekend looking after you instead of persuading Tony’s reluctant art collector!”

“I’d be okay in a few hours. I have medicine.”

“Your migraines last for three days,” Stasia replied knowledgeably, “and there goes my weekend.”

“Spoilsport.”

“There will be several handsome single men there,” Stasia said slowly.

“I don’t like men,” Odalie said shortly. “I like music. Specifically, opera. I didn’t study my whole life to give in to some man and be dangled like a participle.”

Stasia burst out laughing. “Oh, my gosh, what a description!”

Odalie chuckled. “I’ll copyright it first thing tomorrow.”

“Anyway, no chocolate, no aged cheese, no red wine before Friday,” Stasia added.

“Okay. I’ll restrain myself.”

“Good. I’ll see you Friday, then.”

“I’ll be there. Give Tanner and the family my love, and tell them I miss everybody!”

There was a pause. “Even Earl?”

“No! No, I don’t miss Earl!” she said, aghast. “Has Dad ever managed to show him what a bar of soap is for? At least it’s winter and cowboys won’t die if they get downwind of him!”

Stasia was laughing heartily. “I know. He’s like a human skunk. Your dad has tried everything he knows. Nothing works. Earl has the same jeans and shirt he’s been wearing for years, and not only will he not bathe, he won’t wash his clothes. He says they’ll just get dirty all over again!”

Odalie laughed, too. “We always have at least one oddball among the men. Dad gave him his own little cabin at least, so nobody has to live with the odor at night. He can’t fire him. Earl knows more about the ranch and how it’s managed than anybody alive, and there isn’t any situation he can’t handle. He’s worth his weight in gold. If he’d just bathe.”

“He needs a wife.”

“She’d have to be without a sense of smell.”

“Good point. Nose plugs?”

“Not likely. He’s been a bachelor for his whole sixty years. I don’t expect him to change anytime soon,” Odalie said.

“Tony’s got an eccentric guy like that,” Stasia said. “Did you know that Big Ben knits?”

“What?!”

“Tony made him quit smoking, and he gets really nervous at night. So he got a book on how to knit and bought yarn and needles. He makes sweaters.”

“I guess it’s not so far-fetched,” Odalie replied. “They say Marcus Carrera makes really good quilts and exhibits.”

“He does. His casino on Paradise Island is called the Bow Tie because it’s his favorite quilting pattern. He’s won awards.”

“So I heard. Amazing, considering what he used to do for a living,” Odalie laughed.

“A lot of people from criminal backgrounds are moving into legitimate businesses. It’s not that they give up who they are. They just adjust to a new way of making money. Carrera runs a casino. Tony deals in statuary and paintings. Not that I think he’s given up any of his territory,” she added. “He has underlings who carry on with the ‘family’ business back in New Jersey. But Tony’s, shall we say, removed from the day-to-day operations.”

“Once a crime boss, always a crime boss,” Odalie said cuttingly.

“Tony’s not your average boss,” Stasia replied gently. “He cares a great deal for the people who work for him, and he treats them all equally. He has a kind heart.”

“Which he keeps carefully tucked away so that nobody can see it. Except maybe you.”

“Oh, so bitter,” Stasia teased. “You need some company to cheer you up. I’ll call you when I get in on Friday.”

“You’ll have to get a cab...” Odalie began apologetically, because she didn’t have a car in New York.

“Big Ben will pick me up and bring me to your place, don’t worry,” Stasia said. “I’ll see you then.”

“Have a good trip,” Odalie replied.

They hung up and she went back to her books on music theory. She hadn’t wanted to go to the Long Island house, but now she was trapped. Well, at least she’d be with Stasia all the time, so maybe Tony wouldn’t go for her throat in company. Maybe.

Tony was still brooding about that exchange of eyes with Odalie at Big Spur. He didn’t want the woman around. He didn’t know why. She was beautiful and talented. But she was too damned young, not street-smart, and she’d never been poor or operated outside the law.

No way in hell was he getting mixed up with a kid like her. She was what, twenty-three, twenty-four? Still years too young for a man of thirty-seven. Worse, she had no idea what his life was really like. He didn’t want her to know. He didn’t know why, either, and that made him mad, too.

He took a deep breath and stared out the window at the city below. It was convenient to live here, but he missed his garden. He’d had one at the house in New Jersey, but when his business interests centered in New York City, he bought this apartment to be close to the art gallery he owned. The house in Jersey had a cousin, an underboss, living in it now, taking care of business. Tony had a garden, still, but it was indoors on Long Island—his housekeeper called it “the jungle,” but with affection. He grew orchids and exotic plants. The room had cushy chairs and grow lights and every comfort. Plus, a person could hide from guests in it. Tony did that, from time to time, when people started getting on his nerves. Most people couldn’t understand why he loved it so. But then, only a gardener would.

His house on Long Island was huge and the grounds were beautiful. He loved it because it reminded him of where he’d grown up in New Jersey. Not the size and luxury, of course. But it felt like home. He’d spent a lot of time on his grandfather’s farm in upstate New York, on the land. He really preferred it to the city, but he couldn’t make money in some small backwater.

He was irritated because Stasia had insisted that he let her bring Odalie to the Long Island place for the weekend. He didn’t want her there. Stasia, sure, she was going to help him convince Tom Bishop to sell him those exquisite old-world paintings. But Odalie? She’d just be in the way. Worse, she’d be in his way.

He couldn’t take a whole weekend of her. He’d tried to talk Stasia out of it, but when she’d told him that Tanner wouldn’t agree for her to come without Odalie—well, that was it. He needed Stasia. He was no good at persuasion unless he used something that contained bullets. Stasia could do it with words.

Odalie, for a whole weekend. He groaned out loud. How was he going to bear it?!