The fear momentarily left Will’s eyes, replaced by skepticism. “Right,” he scoffed.
“You don’t believe me?”
The businessman leaned forward on his seat, seeming more incensed than afraid now. “You’ve been targeting my daughter for some time now, Mr. Barberi.”
Again, Angelo was at a loss.
“And now you’re siccing your nephew Grant on her, despite all my efforts to keep her away from him,” Will continued. “I have to stand by and watch another Mafia man seduce her—just waiting for him to hurt her!” Will’s voice had grown louder. As he glanced around, he seemed to grasp the danger of the situation. Looking down, he grimly resumed. “Anyway, I get the message loud and clear. There’s no need to drag me down here and threaten me. I’ll never miss another payment.”
Angelo paused. Taylor thought Grant worked for him? And that mistaken belief had led him to overpay? For a split second the Mafia don saw Grant’s innocent eyes swimming before his face, and he considered telling the truth. But then the reality of his impending death hit him, along with the familiar burden of responsibility for securing his family’s future. Taylor was a wealthy man, and the Barberi family could definitely benefit from a potential windfall, even if it stemmed from making false threats.
“Look at me, Mr. Taylor,” Angelo commanded.
Will slowly raised his head.
“I haven’t had a reason to order Grant to harm your daughter—
yet
. You’ll double your regular payment, and as long as we get that on time every month, Sophie will be safe.”
“But that’s impossible in this economy—”
Angelo held out a hand. “Surely your daughter’s life is worth it, Mr. Taylor. And any plans to go to the police will result in the complete collapse of your business. I can guarantee it.”
That threat quelled any further protest, and Will slumped in his chair, feeling a mixture of fear, resignation, and disgust. Angelo looked pointedly at the bodyguard in the corner. “Take Mr. Taylor to get a drink. He looks like he needs one.”
The hulking man crossed the room and waited expectantly by the chair until Will stood up and allowed himself to be led out of the room. Ben quickly hid behind some hideous Roman statue, escaping detection by the two men leaving the study.
As soon as they were gone, Angelo shook his head uneasily, glaring at Tank and Mario. “Something’s not right here—something’s missing. What the fuck was Taylor talking about? He said we’ve been targeting his daughter for some time now? Something about ‘another Mafia man’ seducing her?”
Ben overheard every word, and his heart began thumping in his chest.
“The daughter was at Logan’s funeral,” Tank said.
Angelo looked shocked. “She was? Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“Sorry, boss. Didn’t think it was important.” Tank’s throat constricted as he told the lie. He’d been with
Carlo
at the funeral, and Carlo had ordered him to investigate Sophie’s background. He hardly wished to mention that at the moment, though.
Peering at his bodyguards suspiciously, Angelo’s mouth tightened. “Cut the shit, you two. I know you were the ones who held Logan down while Carlo shoved a knife in his gut.”
Ben stopped breathing.
“Tell me what you know
now
,” Angelo hissed.
Tank shot a desperate glance at Mario before looking back at his boss.
“C-C-Carlo had me call one of our police contacts after the funeral, and I found out Logan had history with Sophie Taylor. She was his shrink, you know, when that judge made him go to counseling, and he, uh, used her office to hide guns and money.”
Silent tears slid down Ben’s face as he hunched in the corner, his thin arms wrapped around his torso, hugging himself. Somehow he was grateful he’d heard this story from Sophie first.
“I guess the cops raided Taylor’s daughter’s office and found the cash, and they found guns too,” Tank continued. His voice dropped lower. “One of the weapons was traced to the Salazar murder.”
“Shit,” Angelo muttered.
“The girl served about half of her two-year sentence, and she’s still on parole.”
“Why haven’t I heard about this before?”
“Her dad used his influence to keep it outta the papers. I guess Logan didn’t tell you?”
Angelo shook his head. “All I knew was the family was out one hundred Gs and Logan was on the run from the fuzz.”
Tank sighed. “Logan sure got himself into a clusterfuck. When I told the story to Carlo, he immediately wanted to track down Taylor’s daughter to try to get the money back. I guess he got to her through Grant…and we know the rest.”
Yeah, Carlo shot Sophie,
Ben silently responded.
And then Uncle Grant had to kill Carlo to save Sophie’s life.
He felt nauseated.
Angelo tried frantically to sort through all the pieces of information, undeterred by the pain coursing through his weak body.
“Holy shit,” he cried, having an epiphany. “Logan just started going to see Taylor’s daughter randomly, right? After the judge ordered him to get therapy?”
Mario nodded, wondering where his boss was going with this.
Angelo started to get excited. “But Taylor thinks Logan went there on purpose! He thinks we sent Logan to set up his daughter as retribution for not paying the extortion fee. He blames himself for his daughter going to prison.”
Tank’s jaw dropped. “You’re right, boss. Think we should set Taylor straight?”
“Hell, no,” Angelo retorted. “I only wish we could make all our suppliers this scared of us. Taylor looked like he was about to crap his pants.”
Tank and Mario chuckled while Ben’s blood boiled. He’d heard all he could stand. He slunk away from his hiding place and headed back to his room to retrieve his backpack. He had to get far away from this place and never come back.
In the study, Mario tensed as he glanced at the security camera feed for the entrance to the compound, instantly recognizing Logan’s brother, accompanied by an older man with “cop” written all over him.
“We got company, boss.”
***
“How can I help you, Grant?” Tank asked pleasantly through the locked gate at the entrance. His glare at the man next to Grant was not so pleasant.
“We’re here for Ben,” Grant responded, not mincing words.
Tank shrugged and did what came naturally—he lied. “He ain’t here.”
A small seed of doubt sprouted inside Grant—what if Ben
wasn’t
here? Where else would he be? Noticing the smirk on the bodyguard’s face, Grant squared his shoulders.
“I know he’s in there… Anthony, is it? Please bring him out.”
Anthony Tanketti clenched his jaw in irritation. Angelo had instructed him to get rid of Grant, but the damn Boy Scout wouldn’t be easily put off. Less assuredly, Tank griped, “I don’t know why you’re not listening to me—”
“Listen to
me
,” Jerry butted in, whipping out his badge and shoving it near the bars of the gate. “You got a minor in there without his parent’s permission. You have exactly two minutes to bring him out or I’ll get a warrant lickety-split. You’ll have thirty officers crawling up your ass, tossing the joint, in no time. What will it be,
Anthony?”
During Jerry’s tirade Tank had unknowingly retreated a few steps, and he now looked at the officer, dumbfounded. “Uh, I’ll go relay that info, um, to the boss.”
Watching the bodyguard scurry away, Grant leaned in and whispered, “Can you do that, sir? Get a warrant?”
“No,” Jerry confessed, looking pissed off. “I could arrest you but that’s about it—that’s where my jurisdiction ends.” He nodded toward the compound. “But
they
don’t know that.”
Grant smirked, feeling an even greater appreciation for his parole officer. Thank God he’d called him for help. Sophie would be proud. He grimaced, thinking about his beautiful girlfriend. She’d begged him not to come near his family, yet here he was again, mere feet from their menace. He hoped she wouldn’t find out about this visit.
Back at the house, Tank swung open the massive front door and almost collided with Ben, who was wearing his backpack and had the air of a young man on the move.
“Just the guy I was looking for,” Tank said, clasping Ben’s shoulders in his brawny clutches and guiding him to the study, despite the boy’s wiggling protests. Shoving the teenager into the room, Tank announced, “Grant’s here for Ben.”
Ben’s eyes widened. Uncle Grant was here, for him?
Oh, shit
. Grant wasn’t going to be happy he’d come to the compound.
“Well, he’s not getting him,” Angelo countered, glancing fondly at Ben. “You’re happy here, right?”
Feeling his stomach twist with revulsion, Ben knew he couldn’t stay. Yet going outside to face the music with his uncle didn’t sound appealing either. Caught between two sides of the family, he decided to go with the one he trusted. “Actually, I, uh, I gotta go. I just remembered I got a chemistry test in sixth period. I can’t miss it or I’ll fail the class.”
Angelo shrugged. “No worries—I’ll talk to your teacher. I’m sure he’ll give you an A after I’m through with him.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Ben said, trying to hide the quiver in his voice. “Please—I…I’ll come back later. My mom wants me to come live with her again, so it’ll be easier for me to visit here.”
Ben felt a pang of sadness. Grant wouldn’t want him back now anyway, not after he’d caused so much trouble. “I gotta go to school now, Gruncle.”
Angelo closed his eyes. He felt utterly exhausted and simply wished to go to sleep. Snapping his eyes open, he frowned.
“Fine,
ragazzo
. We miss you around here. Make sure you come back pronto.”
“Okay.” Ben nodded, managing a half-smile. He squirmed out of Tank’s hold and walked swiftly out the door.
“That fucking cop threatened to get a search warrant,” Tank informed Angelo once Ben had left.
“Jesus! Get Taylor out of here.”
“Yes, boss.”
Grant was flooded with relief once he saw his nephew come out of the mansion. With each step, however, his relief morphed into rage, and by the time Ben arrived at the gate—his eyes locked fearfully onto his uncle’s—Grant was visibly shaking with fury.
“I told you never to come here again!” he shouted.
Swallowing hard, Ben punched in the pass code and opened the gate, bravely facing his incensed uncle.
Despite his rage, Grant grabbed the teen in a suffocating hug, smothering him for several moments before releasing him and hollering, “You think you can just miss school whenever you want?”
“Madsen,” Jerry growled, cocking his head to the corner of the fenced area. “Let me talk to the boy.”
Fighting for self-control, Grant took a deep breath. “This is Officer Stone—my parole officer—and he wants to have a few words with you. Don’t you dare mouth off to him.” With that, Grant walked over to wait impatiently by the corner of the compound.
Ben stared at the officer with huge eyes, and Jerry immediately noticed the family resemblance.
Narrowing his gaze, Jerry authoritatively ordered, “Turn around.”
Not daring to resist, Ben did as he was told. Jerry peeled the backpack straps down his arms and set the bag to the side. “Hands on the fence,” he barked.
“Am I—am I under arrest?” Ben stuttered, raising his arms and curling his fingers around the solid wrought-iron bars as the man roughly frisked him.
“Shut up, kid,” Jerry commanded. He wanted to put the fear of God in the boy. There were already far too many parolees in the system, and he didn’t want to add this kid to the mix. After the pat-down failed to reveal anything of interest, Jerry yanked each arm down and locked Ben’s trembling wrists into handcuffs behind his back.
“Please,” Ben moaned, close to tears. “Please don’t arrest me. I wasn’t doing anything in there. I’m not like them.”
Jerry paused. Coming from this family, the odds were certainly stacked against the kid; it’d be unlikely he could survive without turning into a two-bit criminal. Yet his uncle was trying his best to escape the Barberis, and maybe Ben could make it too.
“We’ll see about that,” Jerry gruffly replied, seizing the backpack in one hand and unzipping it with the other. Ben closed his eyes, swept over with relief that he’d decided not to take any of the pot with him. Standing helplessly handcuffed while a police officer rifled through his stuff, he promised himself he’d never
look
at marijuana again.
“It looks like you’re clean,” Jerry said. “That’s too bad. I was hoping I’d be shipping you off to juvie today.”
Ben looked down. “That’s where Uncle Grant wants me, isn’t it?”
“Of course not,” Jerry said quickly.
“Then why did he bring you here with him?”
Jerry spun the boy around to face him. “I’m here because it’s a violation of Madsen’s parole to be anywhere near this place. He almost returned to prison in July because he attended your birthday party here.”
Ben’s eyes widened. “Did—did I make him get in trouble for coming here today?”
“Let’s hope not. Your uncle loves you like crazy, and he would take all kinds of risks for you. But stop putting him in jeopardy, kid. Never visit this place again, you got it?”
Biting his trembling lip, Ben nodded. A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek.
Grant couldn’t hear the exchange, but it did seem like Officer Stone was getting through to his nephew. Handcuffing Ben had been a nice touch. Startled by a noise behind him, Grant swiveled and noticed a side door to the compound sweeping open. He tensed as he prepared to face whoever emerged, and when Grant identified the man exiting the building, his jaw dropped.
Staring back at him, equally shocked, was Will Taylor.
Hunter was surprised to find an empty waiting room. Since Grant had begun joining Sophie for their appointments, they’d always been on time—early even. He glanced at his watch and frowned. They’d had barely twenty-four hours to forget their additional appointment this week.
Just then a tall, lanky figure came jogging through the door, and Hunter turned to find a very shaken Grant, cheeks flushed and chest heaving.
“Is Sophie here?”
Hunter shook his head. “Isn’t she with you?”
Grant exhaled. “No, sir. She didn’t come home last night, and she won’t answer my calls. I—I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if my family tried to hurt her…”
He held his head in his hands.
Hunter felt a pang of panic himself. “Is there any evidence your family is coming after Sophie? Did they threaten her again?”
“Not that I know of,” Grant said. “But Angelo might be upset with me after I went to his house yesterday.”
“You did?”
Hearing the consternation in his psychologist’s voice, Grant looked down guiltily. “I ended up taking something he wanted—”
He was cut off by the sound of the door sweeping open, and in walked Sophie.
“Thank God!” Grant cried, rushing to his girlfriend. “Are you all right?”
Sophie flinched when he tried to touch her, and her eyes flashed with fear. Grant stopped short as a wave of hurt and confusion washed over him.
“Don’t touch me!” was her strangled cry. “Please don’t make us do a couples’ session today,” she begged Hunter. “Can’t I schedule to come back on my own?”
Hunter, like Grant, was dumbfounded. “Sophie, what’s wrong? Why are you so upset?”
She stole a sideways glance at Grant and shuddered. “I can’t talk about it around
him.
It’s not safe.”
“You’re scared of Grant? Did he hurt you?”
“Not
yet
,” she replied snidely, each word piercing her boyfriend. “But it’s just a matter of time.”
A hush fell over the three of them when a woman and her teenage son came in the door and halted to stare curiously at the tense scene unfolding before them.
“Let’s take this up in my office, shall we?” Hunter suggested.
“No,” Sophie pleaded. “Please don’t make me go back there with
him
.”
“You’ll be safe,” Hunter promised, looking pointedly at the man next to him. “Right, Grant?”
His expressive crystal eyes overflowed with conflicting emotions—bewilderment, betrayal, anger, and resignation—and flickered back and forth between his girlfriend and psychologist. Slowly realizing why Sophie was terrified of him yet again, Grant felt choked by fury aimed alternately at her, himself, and his family—but mostly at himself.
As Grant hesitated, Hunter glanced at the other clients, who’d taken a seat yet continued to gawk at the interaction a few feet away from them. The confidentiality of this conversation was severely compromised. Making an executive decision, Hunter commanded, “Let’s go, you two. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Sophie glared at him but made no move to leave. Feeling hopeless, Grant quietly said, “Yes, sir.”
Hunter latched onto Sophie’s elbow and began ushering her down the hallway. Reluctantly she allowed herself to be led forward, though she couldn’t help but snatch anxious glances behind her. Grant followed them with a shuffling gait, head down.
As they entered the office, Hunter asked Sophie, “Would you feel safer sitting in my chair?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Hunter joined Grant on the sofa.
“So what the hell is going on?” Hunter asked.
Grant was the first to answer Hunter’s question, staring darkly at Sophie. “Your father got to you, didn’t he? He told you he saw me at Angelo’s.”
Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Oh, so you’re admitting it? Are you also going to admit that you’ve been playing me from day one?”
His mouth dropped open. “
Playing
you? Are you sure you’re not confusing me with your dad? What the hell was
he
doing there, huh?”
“He was dragged there!” she yelled, feeling the squeeze of tightness in her chest. “Your goons kidnapped him and dragged him to the compound to make sure he keeps paying his extortion money!”
Grant’s mouth abruptly shut, and he looked stunned.
“He came and got me from work, right after he ran into you,” Sophie continued. “He was sick with worry, and he finally confessed something that’s been killing him for a long time. Apparently he refused to pay the protection fee two years ago—he refused to let your family just take his hard-earned money, like they’ve always done—and that’s when your brother became my client. That’s when your brother ruined my life. It was all a scheme to punish my dad for disobeying them!”
“Logan intentionally got you arrested?”
“Don’t act dumb!” Sophie seethed. “You knew all about it too!”
“I did not! I was in prison then—how would I know anything?”
She scoffed derisively. “In prison with your
father.
I bet he masterminded the whole plan from his cell.”
Ignoring Grant’s incredulous denials, she forged ahead.
“My dad has been flooded with guilt ever since I got arrested.
That’s
why he never visited me in prison—he couldn’t look me in the eye, knowing his actions led to my arrest. He blamed himself for everything!”
Grant sat motionless. He couldn’t believe his family had enacted such vengeance over a paltry extortion fee—sending Logan to set up a businessman’s daughter? Was Logan even capable of such treachery? It had seemed like Logan really cared for Sophie. And even more shocking, how could she actually believe that Grant had been conning her the whole time? How could she
ever
think that?
His wounded eyes bore into her, but that didn’t stop her hateful words.
“My dad’s been through hell, and he was lucky to get out of there alive yesterday. But I’m glad he went through it, because he ran into you—now we
both
know you’re still involved with your family. Now we know the truth.”
“The
truth?”
Grant shouted, livid. “Do you care about the truth? Your dad explained why he was at the compound—did you ever think about giving
me
a chance to explain? Do you think I wanted to be there?”
“Oh, this should be good,” Sophie retorted, folding her arms across her chest. “Let’s hear your story. I’m sure it will be just as good as Logan’s lies.”
“I’m not my brother!” Grant exploded, earning a look of surprised satisfaction from Hunter. “You keep telling me how different Logan was from me, but then here you go, assuming I’m setting you up just like he did! You’re not even giving me a chance. I—I…”
Hunter jumped in, guiding the tongue-tied, enraged man on the sofa next to him. “I feel angry…” he prompted, leading Grant and Sophie to pause their heated confrontation and stare at him like he was crazy.
Undeterred, Hunter continued. “You’re doing great, Grant. Tell her how you feel using ‘I’ statements.”
Squaring his shoulders, Grant said, “I feel angry that you, that, um, you still think I’m one of
them.
I’m mad as hell that you didn’t even give me the chance to explain—after all we’ve been through!” His eyes flared. “I would do
anything
for you, Sophie. And yet you hear one accusation against me, from a man who’s hated me from the second he met me, and you take his word over mine. You know what? Damn it, I deserve better than this!”
Hunter sported a half-smile in spite of himself. “Bravo, Grant.”
Sophie’s mouth dropped open. “Why are you taking
his
side?”
“Because that’s the first time I’ve heard a shred of self-confidence from him! And because he needs somebody on his side. You have your father, but Grant has nobody—no father, no mother, no brother.”
“He has his nephew!”
“My nephew is why I’m in all this mess,” Grant interjected hotly.
Sophie looked puzzled, still breathing hard from her yelling. “What do you mean?”
“Sophie, I went to the compound to get Ben back.”
“What?” She looked startled and met Grant’s eyes for the first time. “He went there too? Oh God, is he okay?”
“I think so—he’s with his mom now. Officer Stone took him home in handcuffs, so hopefully that taught him a thing or two.”
“Jerry was there?” Sophie remained surprised.
“Yes, I called and asked him for help, just like you’d want me to.”
Sophie felt her anger begin to dissipate, only to be replaced by a sinking sensation. Had she just falsely accused him?
“Wait,” she gulped, struggling for air. “Can you explain what happened?”
“So you’re giving me a chance to explain now? You’re sure you wouldn’t rather just leave because it’s not ‘safe’ around me?”
Sophie looked at the floor. “I’m sorry. Please, Grant.”
He studied her fine porcelain features, which reflected the same kaleidoscope of emotions he’d recently experienced on the receiving end of her anger. He took a deep breath. “I was at work when Ashley called, frantic that Ben wasn’t at school.”
“He didn’t go to school?” Sophie clasped one hand over her mouth and shot a guilty glance toward Grant. “He was so upset after I told him about Logan.”
Grant grimaced. “Yes.”
Hunter sadly nodded. “That boy has been through hell.”
“Yes, he has,” Grant agreed.
“And when he got overloaded by stress, he returned to his old ways of coping,” Hunter said. “Or should I say, he returned to his old stomping grounds?”
“Exactly, sir. I knew Ben had gone to the compound, and I had to get him away from there. But I also knew I’d return to prison if I got spotted associating with known criminals.”
“So you called Jerry?” Sophie asked.
Grant nodded, and despite the tension, a grin spread across his face. “Officer Stone was so awesome, Sophie. He told one of Angelo’s men he’d run and get a search warrant if he didn’t bring Ben out
immediately
, and he didn’t even have the authority to do that! Then when Ben finally walked out, I was totally yelling at him, but Officer Stone took over. He read Ben the riot act, and he searched him and cuffed him.”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “Ben must’ve been freaking out!”
“I think he got the message loud and clear,” Grant replied. “He won’t be going anywhere
near
Angelo’s after that experience.”
Hunter’s eyes bounced back and forth between the pair as if he were watching a tennis match. From opposite sides of the net, the players had started the match snarling and hurling insults at each other, but now they were engaged in a reasonable discourse as they caught up on their time apart. Their caring for Ben was evident, and Hunter was pleased the conflict had seemed to resolve so quickly.
“I think Officer Stone took Ben straight to Ashley’s then.”
“You’re not sure?” Sophie inquired.
“Well, I was standing near the side entrance to the compound, and that’s when I, uh, when I saw your dad.”
Sophie bit her lip, feeling immense guilt for her earlier accusations. “Did you guys say anything to each other?”
“No. I think we were both too shocked. We just kind of stood there, staring, until your dad took off and headed for the street. I watched him hail a cab, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing there.” Grant looked nervously at Sophie. “I didn’t know if I should tell you I saw him. I didn’t want you to be hurt any more.” He sighed. “It’s awful what your dad went through, but I’m so glad he’s not in cahoots with my family, Sophie.”
She looked down. “Me too,” she said softly.
“When I turned back, Officer Stone was leading Ben away, I assume to his car, which he’d parked a few blocks away,” Grant added.
“Have you heard from Ben since then?” Sophie’s voice was full of concern.
“Ashley called me once he got home, but according to her he’s not saying much. Apparently he’s been the perfect angel even in the short time he’s been back.” Grant and Sophie shared a smirk. Then Grant added wistfully, “I miss him already.”
“Maybe he could come back and live with us?”
“Maybe, but he probably belongs with his mom.”
A silence descended. Feeling rather superfluous, Hunter interjected, “So, Sophie, how do you feel about your father telling you he’s responsible for you going to prison?”
She frowned. “He’s not. I don’t care if he refused to pay the money; he’s not the one who acted inappropriately with a client. That’s on me.”
Grant felt a stirring of uneasiness at the mention of his brother, knowing exactly what her “inappropriate” behavior entailed. Feeling an itching sensation in his fingertips—the impulse to lash out aggressively—he sat on his hands and forced himself to take deep breaths.
“Shame’s a tricky emotion,” Hunter told Sophie. “It can sometimes make people hide or withdraw from those they love. It seems like your father feels horribly guilty for bringing the Mafia into your life, which explains why he never visited you in prison. He was too ashamed to see you.”
She nodded her head thoughtfully.
“And it also makes sense why he’s been so afraid of Grant being in your life—why he feels compelled try to avoid you getting hurt again.”
Sophie considered Hunter’s statement and sheepishly gazed at Grant.
“I’m sorry, Grant, but my father was convinced you were working for them. Angelo confirmed it.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed.
“And when my father told me he saw you there, what was I supposed to think?”
Leaning forward on the sofa, Grant said, “You were supposed to think about
us,
Sophie…about the promises I’ve made to you…about my love for you. I would never hurt you—don’t you know that? Don’t you feel that inside you?”
Gazing into his earnest, passionate eyes, she nodded, slowly at first, and then with increasing vehemence. The corners of her mouth turned down and her eyes began brimming with tears.
“I’m so sorry, Grant. It was stupid of me to doubt you. I should never do that—it’s not fair to you.”
“I feel…?” Hunter prompted.
Gulping, she returned her gaze to Grant. “I feel horrible for doubting you. I feel, um, remorseful for listening to my dad instead of you. He was just so upset, and I wasn’t thinking straight.”