Ruthless - [32]

. When she had finally snapped and flung the divorce word in his face, his eyes had been so hard, so implacable. He had said, ‘OK, that’s what you want? That’s what we’ll do. Then you’ll be free to fuck whoever you damned well like.’

Even now, eight years on from all that hurt, that agony, she still felt sick, dizzy and dangerously near to tears when she thought of it. It had taken her a long time to get to grips with her grief over Max.

Of course Layla blamed her, not him. Layla thought that if her mother had stayed in London more, there would have been no divorce.

Annie sighed heavily. She had found some comfort here in the States with Alberto, but for God’s sake, how could Max have thought such an absurd thing? Alberto was not her lover, she had never wanted that. He was like a son, a little brother maybe, to her. There was nothing sexual in their mutual affection.

Looking at Alberto’s face, she could see that he too had suffered. He had aged in the few years since she’d last seen him. Time and knowledge and bitter experience had carved their indelible lines in his handsome face, making it harder, tougher: more fearsome. Now he was even more like his father. He was no longer the readily smiling youthful charmer. He had become the godfather.

‘Just visiting the grave,’ said Annie, indicating Constantine’s last resting place. ‘You?’

‘Yeah. I come here to see them every week.’

Alberto walked forward and laid one of the bouquets in front of his father’s headstone. He placed the other one on another of the graves there. Away in the distance, Annie saw a priest walking, hurrying between the headstones.

‘It’s been a long time,’ she said.

‘Yeah.’

Sandor and the others were scanning the graveyard. They watched the priest vanish from sight, then cast around for any other movement. Dangerous men, she thought. Her life had been full of them. If there was one thing she hoped for, it was that Layla would one of these days – soon, with luck – fall for some nice straight guy. That the lure of bad boys wouldn’t affect her life as it had her mother’s.

‘You look tired,’ she said to Alberto as he straightened up.

‘Do I?’

‘Everything OK?’

‘As OK as it ever is,’ he said.

‘Alberto, what is it?’

He gave a smile. ‘I’ve been thinking, that’s all.’

‘About what?’

‘That this whole house of cards is about to come crashing down.’

Annie looked at him in alarm.

He shrugged lightly. ‘Sometime soon, I might have to take off somewhere.’

‘Why? What’s happened?’

Alberto’s eyes were smiling into hers. ‘Stepmom, I’m a very bad man. The Feds have levelled a lot of accusations against me. And my attorneys are working hard at batting them away, as usual. But I get the feeling, the strong feeling, that before long the game’s gonna be up.’

Annie stared at him, worried. ‘And these accusations are…?’

‘How long you got? Money laundering, evading tax, sale of stolen goods, conspiracy, racketeering… oh, and maybe murder. If they can make it stick.’

‘They can’t – can they?’

‘They move slow. We move faster. But some day, the axe is gonna fall. Regan wants a clean sheet, and that means taking care of outstanding business. And that’s people like me.’

‘The murder charge…’

‘It’s not a charge. Not yet.’

‘Is that… would that be Lucco?’

‘And others,’ said Alberto.

Lucco was Alberto’s older brother, Constantine’s eldest son. He had vanished years ago, presumed dead. After that, Alberto had taken over the reins of the family firm. Annie hated Lucco, but nonetheless she had always wondered what happened to him.

Alberto’s eyes grew colder. ‘Lucco had no respect for anyone, living or dead. Everything our father had worked for, slaved for, he would have run straight into the ground.’

And you couldn’t let that happen, thought Annie.

‘You know, once I thought you and Daniella…’ she started.

Daniella had been Lucco’s wife.

‘I thought that too.’ He gave a small sigh. ‘But what you just said about Lucco – obviously you think I had a hand in whatever happened to him. Well, Daniella thought the same thing. She couldn’t live with that. It ate at her. She’s a fine, honest woman, Daniella. Not long after he went missing, she returned home. She’s remarried. And she’s a mother.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘Another world,’ he said, and gazed off across the graveyard, his eyes wistful.

Annie watched him. Maybe he was seeing the sunlit island of Sicily, his ancestral home – the lemon groves, the hot sun beating down on dusty roads and lush vineyards. And Daniella, dark-haired and lovely, laughing, kissing her husband, playing with her children.

Annie reached out, touched his arm. She didn’t want to see him come to grief.

‘How long…?’ she asked, meaning how long would it be before the Feds picked him up and charged him.

‘Months, I think. Maybe weeks.’

Annie was horrified. ‘You must have contingency plans?’

He shrugged. ‘Aunt Gina’s gone to Sicily. But me… I’d miss New York. I was born here.’

‘Better an open sky and freedom,’ said Annie. ‘Are you winding things up?’

‘Stepmom…’ He turned to her with a smile. ‘Don’t ask. That way you know nothing, and it’ll be safer for both of us.’ His gaze intensified. ‘You know what I wish?’