Page 5

Chapter Five

Sadie

LAST NAME

Performed by Carrie Underwood

After getting back to my room last night, I’d tossed and turned, and it wasn’t the bed’s fault. No, my restlessness could be planted completely at Rafe’s feet. My needy body hadn’t been able to forget him, even after I’d attempted to finish what he’d started myself. It wasn’t the same. It was as empty as my win earlier had been.

By the time I’d given up on getting any sleep and rose to get ready for my day, my eyes were bruised and my cheeks pale. I looked vaguely like I had in those first weeks after I’d been shot.

I packed my luggage and stowed it by the door, ready to leave Vegas behind after my breakfast meeting. Then, I double-checked I had the documentation and pictures I wanted in my bag and headed down to the café on the main floor of the hotel.

The glossy door of the elevator reflected back at me a completely different person than the one in the sparkly cocktail dress from the night before. I didn’t even look like the uniformed dart-thrower I’d momentarily been for the competition. This image was the Sadie I knew best, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt with beat-up cowboy boots. My hat rested on my luggage upstairs, but even without it, I still screamed farm girl. I certainly wasn’t any of the elegant supermodels and actresses who were normally seen at The Fortress.

The two in the opposite corner of the elevator fit into this place a thousand times better than I did. Just as they would have been a better match for Rafe Marquess last night than a twenty-three-year-old farm girl. But maybe that had been the kick for him. As if a hayseed from Tennessee could round out his portfolio of women.

I shook my head. He wasn’t my concern. It didn’t matter why he’d agreed to my dare or that he’d tossed me out. I wouldn’t let it mess with my confidence. I was far from a hayseed. I was a business owner. A ranked dart champion. I threw back my shoulders as the doors opened, lifted my chin, and walked with purpose to the French café on the opposite end of the casino from the piano bar.

When I gave my name to the hostess, she informed me the other member of my party had already arrived, and for the first time since arranging this meeting, a hint of nerves ran through me. Gia would despise that I was meeting with Lorenzo Puzo by myself, but I was determined to follow through on our research while I was here. I was meeting with him in a public place. Nothing bad was going to happen.

Still, my palms turned sweaty as the hostess led me through the white wrought-iron tables and overstuffed benches to a table out on the veranda. The heat of the day smacked me in the face. Las Vegas in July was dry and hot, and the misters were already going in full force, causing a hazy rainbow to shimmer along the edges of the paisley-patterned umbrellas lining the patio.

A man in his forties was waiting at the table as we arrived, and he stood to greet me. He wore a custom-made suit that reminded me of Rafe and had a high forehead, strong Italian nose, and eyes almost the same color as his black hair. He was an inch or two below six feet and had an air about him that demanded attention. He wore a thick gold signet ring on his pinkie and a Patek Philippe watch on his wrist, screaming wealth and privilege.

He looked exactly like every television stereotype I could come up with for a mob boss, and I barely controlled a smirk at that thought.

“Ms. Hatley, it’s a pleasure to finally put a face to the name,” he said, sticking out a hand.

When I put mine in his, he turned it, kissing the knuckles suavely before releasing them. Not once did I feel even a hint of a spark, let alone the thundering blaze I’d felt with Rafe, and I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the fact that Lorenzo and I might be related in some fourth-cousin kind of way. It was simply because the jerk last night had singed my nerve endings, and I hadn’t been able to heal them yet.

“I feel the same way, Mr. Puzo. And please, call me Sadie.”

“And you must call me Lorenzo,” he said, holding my chair and tucking me in before returning to his seat.

A waiter was at my elbow before I could even pick my menu up, reciting the specials and asking if he could get a drink started for me. Once he’d darted away with our coffee order, I looked over at Lorenzo to find him slowly assessing me, and it sent a hint of trepidation through my veins.

He asked how I was enjoying Las Vegas, if it was my first time there, and what my plans were. Innocuous talk about nothing. Pleasantries that had me returning similarly mundane questions about his life in Vegas that he evaded answering as if I was asking top-secret information.

There was something smooth and not quite normal about the way he moved and talked. Every action he took seemed almost imperceptible, as if he was somehow doing it all without even flexing a nerve. I wasn’t even sure he’d blinked the entire time we’d been sitting there, and I found my nerves jangling even more.

After our breakfast had been delivered, and I’d cut into the savory crepe, he said, “After you reached out to me, I dug into the old family albums to see what I could find, and then I discussed the situation with my great aunt.”

“And what did you find?” I asked, excitement automatically seeping into my voice.

This entire adventure to the West Coast had been prompted by things I’d found while sorting through Uncle Phil’s attic after he died. I’d carefully gone through over a century’s worth of debris, researching and pricing each item so the family could decide what to do with them.

When I’d gotten to the trunks of old movie props our Great-grandma Carolyn and Great-grandpa Harry had brought back from their time working in a Hollywood studio, I’d almost just tossed it all into the donation pile. But something had stopped me. Maybe it was simply the idea of them giving up their dreams to return to Tennessee, raise a child, and work at the family bar that had hit too close to home. Regardless, it had me spending time on each of the items in the trunk.

When I’d found the velvet bag with the set of jewels my family had always considered well-designed pastes, I’d done the same thing I’d done with all the items. I started with a reverse-image search.

It was the tiara and not the layered necklaces, bracelets, or earrings that had gotten a hit. I hadn’t been surprised to find it in an article entitled “The Most Fabulous Jewels of Iconic Movies” as Gemma had loaned the tiara to a movie crew when they’d been filming in Willow Creek. What had surprised me was finding the entire set had also been worn in a movie back in the 1940s. Below the image of the glamorous ’40s film star draped in the diamonds was a footnote that listed the gems as rare California diamonds on loan from a private collection.

While the note about Gemma’s tiara had the same note about a private collection, seeing it on a movie that might have had Great-grandma Carolyn working on it had made the hair on the back of my neck raise as if someone had walked over my grave. With a sinking feeling, I’d wondered if the jewels were actually something much more than we’d ever imagined. Something that should have been in a safe instead of a velvet bag tucked in an attic trunk.

I’d taken them to our local jeweler, and he’d practically twittered with excitement. He said the stones were priceless yellow and white diamonds from a rare California mine that was no longer in existence. In their platinum and gold Art Deco settings, the gems were worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

After the shock had worn off, my mind had started reeling with ideas for what we could do with the money if we sold them. Things we could do for our town and our community. Ways we could celebrate our heritage. Ways Great-grandma Carolyn and I might both get back a piece of our dreams we’d given up.

But my ideas had been followed by doubts. How had Great-grandma Carolyn afforded the jewelry? It wasn’t like the McFlannigans were millionaires. And if she’d had something worth so much money, wouldn’t she have sold them to help out in the lean times we’d experienced?

Those doubts had me digging through old family albums, Bibles, and documents, trying to find out more about her and Harry. I hadn’t been able to find a single legal document on Great-grandma Carolyn. Not a birth certificate or driver’s license. Not even her marriage certificate to Harry. It was pure chance that the back of one of the old photos of her had listed her maiden name as Puzo.

I’d reached a dead end on what I could do on my own, and still not wanting to take it to the entire family yet, I’d gotten Gia involved. My sister-in-law used her old resources from her NSA days to scour the internet. They’d helped us narrow down a list of Puzo families Great-grandma Carolyn might have been related to who’d also lived in and around California in the thirties and forties. Unfortunately, the bulk of those Puzos were in Las Vegas and were part of a mafia family who’d run the town from its inception.

With possible ties to such a notorious crime family, it had made Gia and I wonder if Carolyn had actually been a jewel thief. Someone who’d stolen incredibly priceless gems from a movie studio set while they’d been on loan.

That had turned any joy, any hope I’d had of selling the jewelry, into ash. We’d have to find who they really belonged to and return them. Except, I hadn’t wanted to tell Mama her grandmother had been a thief tied to a mafia family—not without proof anyway.

So, I’d set out to find the truth, regardless of Gia’s warnings.

I wasn’t sure meeting with the current head of the Puzo family was the way to get answers. But I had to try. And if Great-grandma Carolyn had been related to them, they might know who the jewels belonged to. They might even belong to them. Regardless, they might be able to tell me why she’d never even mentioned her family to anyone in Willow Creek.

Lorenzo scrutinized me the entire time I swung back and forth between excitement and dread, waiting for him to tell me what he’d found out about Carolyn.

Finally, he tossed me a bone, saying, “It seems we did have a great-aunt named Carolyn who disappeared in the early ’40s.”

Butterflies banged around in my chest. “We couldn’t find a birth certificate for her in any of our belongings or on any of the government sites.”

“Many women in those days gave birth at home. Immigrants, who weren’t sure of their legal status, didn’t always fill out the appropriate paperwork.”

“Did you find out anything more about her?” I asked.

“My great-aunt told me she dreamed of working in the movie business and ran off to Hollywood.”

My heart leaped. It had to be her. The coincidence of being in Hollywood was just too great. But why had she left California? Had Great-grandpa Harry missed his family and wanted to return to Tennessee, so she’d gone with him? Had they been as wildly in love as the stories I’d heard? And why had she never reached out to anyone in her family here in Las Vegas ever again? Were the jewels why? Had she really stolen them?

“And that’s it? No one saw or talked to her again?” I asked.

“Something distasteful happened, it seems. Aunt Ada said her name wasn’t to be mentioned. In those days, it typically meant a woman got knocked up outside of marriage or ran off with the wrong type.”

I couldn’t help bristling. “I don’t think my great-grandfather was the wrong type.”

His lips barely twitched. “Why is this important to your family now?”

Something about his tone set my nerves jangling once more. I’d originally intended to tell Lorenzo about the diamonds and ask if they’d belonged to Carolyn or her family. Instead, I bit my tongue. Gia’s sources had said the Puzo family had cleaned up their act, but she couldn’t be sure they just hadn’t gotten really good at hiding their criminal enterprises.

I didn’t want to offer up the jewels and possibly put a target on our backs if they rightfully belonged to Carolyn. If they were ours, I hoped to convince my family to use them to fund a special kind of Hatley and McFlannigan legacy in Willow Creek. A way I could leave a mark on this earth that might be different than the one I’d originally planned but would still be meaningful.

“Was the Puzo family wealthy back then?” I asked.

When his eyes narrowed at the question, I realized I’d messed up and he thought I was after their money. I attempted to soothe his concerns. “I don’t care if they were. My family doesn’t need money or anything. That isn’t why I’m here. I just…there were some things I found while going through the attic of the house where she lived, and it made me curious. Why did she go to Hollywood? Why did she and Great-grandpa Harry leave California? Why was there no mention of her side of the family at all?” I was babbling. It was a habit I had when I was nervous. I took a deep breath, slowed down, and said, “I guess I just wanted to understand my roots.”

He set his knife and fork down smoothly and slowly, in that same way that gave the impression he hadn’t moved at all. “Roots are important. Traditions as well as the wishes of our ancestors. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you about her.”

It was easy to tell that his “all I can tell you about her” wasn’t all he knew about her. The congeniality he’d had during our entire conversation completely disappeared, leaving behind the tension of a coiled snake. Adrenaline pumped through me as I wondered just how much of a mistake I’d made in meeting with him.

Before I could respond, a shadow crossed over our table, and we both looked up to find Rafe glaring down at us. Not just glaring but shooting lightning bolts from those chocolate depths.

My heart stopped.

By the time he spoke, the simmering anger I’d glimpsed had disappeared back behind that emotionless wall he’d tossed at me last night. “How mad is your boss that you didn’t get anything from me?”

Confusion spiraled as I realized the dry, scornful question was meant for me.

“Excuse me?” I asked, hating that I sounded breathless and unsure.

“Do you know each other?” Lorenzo asked, glancing between Rafe and me with a raised brow, interest sparking in his eyes.

“Not as well as she would have liked.” Rafe’s tone was as disparaging as it was icy.

I wasn’t one to blush easily, but I felt my face heat as his words suddenly merged into a single, ugly thought. He was insinuating I’d tried to sleep with him for Lorenzo. For what reason? Blackmail? My embarrassment turned to disgust and then to fury.

“What the hell?” I hissed. “If anyone should be pissed about how things ended last night, it should be me!”

Lorenzo chuckled. It was dark and somehow incredibly satisfied and drew Rafe’s gaze from me to him.

“You’re not allowed on the premises, Puzo. Not on any of my properties.”

Rafe’s voice was calm but held a hint of threat that sent my flight instincts into overdrive. Lorenzo, however, seemed to get enjoyment out of it. He waved his hand at me and said, “But I was invited by the lovely lady.”

Suddenly, that unease and trepidation that had been growing since I’d first sat down with Lorenzo morphed into something much larger. True fear. I’d stepped into the middle of something nasty between him and Rafe. Something that ended up putting the unsuspected heroine in the movies in danger. Or worse, got the unsuspected pawn killed off like a Star Trek red shirt.

“The ruling the judge made was very clear after your attempt at corporate sabotage. Neither you nor your employees are allowed on Marquess Enterprises property,” Rafe said. “But please, stay so I can call security and have Steele throw you out. He’d take great pleasure in it.”

Lorenzo smiled and put his napkin down slowly and methodically before pushing back his chair. I rose at the same time, shaky and unsteady. Before I realized what he was doing, Lorenzo had leaned in and kissed my cheek. Way too personal. Way more than I’d expected. And entirely for Rafe’s benefit. I stepped back automatically, nearly running into Rafe.

“It was a pleasure, Sadie. I’ll be in touch soon.” He sauntered slowly and carelessly away before I could even respond, his movements still a lesson in efficiency. Smooth and confident.

Rafe’s hand closed around my bicep, and he jerked me closer to him. That flash of anger appeared again as our chests collided, and those damn sparks that had ignited yesterday flared right back to life at his touch. Even furious and glaring, he still caused delicious tension to sweep through my stomach.

By the time he spoke, he had himself in control again. The glacial edge was back as he said, “You tell Puzo he will never be able to blackmail me. And if he keeps sending his minions, I will file new charges.”

I pushed against the solid wall of his chest, trying to put distance between us. “I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two. This was the first time I’ve ever met Lorenzo. My business with him has nothing to do with you.”

He didn’t let me escape. If anything, the grip on my bicep increased as he scoured my face, weighing my truthfulness. “If that’s true, I’d only advise you to stay away from him. Puzo will destroy you and everyone you care about and celebrate the fall. Go back to Tennessee, Sadie, and keep your nose out of my business.”

He finally let me go, and I stumbled back, noticing for the first time people were trying not to stare at the scene we’d caused.

I rubbed my arm, and his gaze settled on it, a flicker of something that might have been remorse drifting over him before it settled back into his unreadable mask. Fear and regret and irritation all mixed inside me, but I refused to let him see it. I hid every emotion I could as I said calmly, “I was checking out today anyway. So, don’t worry, you’ll never see me again.”

Then, I whirled around, weaved through the tables, and headed directly for the elevators. I felt him watching me the entire time. Felt the look burning through the back of my skull.

I was close to tears again, like I had been last night when I’d left the penthouse. And I hated that he was able to evoke these intense emotions in me. Hated him for interrupting my discussion with Lorenzo before I could set it to rights. Hated the cold disparagement he’d sent reeling in my direction when I’d seen the real him last night. That Rafe, the one nearly overcome with passion as we’d kissed, had been the true him. I’d almost bet my bar on it.

But I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to because I’d never see him again.

Thank God I hadn’t slept with him.

Except, it wasn’t relief that washed over me at that thought. Instead, it was an unspeakable sadness I didn’t understand. As if I’d lost something that had never been mine.