Mob Mistress. Sheri WhiteFeather
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for?”
“Why the hell do you think? To talk to my mom and dad.” To rage, to vent, he thought. To fight the pain, the lies, the deceit.
“We were hoping that you’d spend the rest of your vacation with us.” Brian made a joke. “After all the trouble it took to get you here.”
Frustration hit him hard and quick. He wasn’t in the mood for petty humor.
The other man caught his scowl and turned serious. “Are you angry at your parents?”
Justin didn’t answer the question. He spun it around on his supposedly “reformed” mobster uncle. “Are you mad at Beverly for keeping the truth from you?”
“It’s tough to be angry at someone who’s gone, who died so tragically. But I wish she had allowed us the opportunity to know you when you were young. That she wouldn’t have robbed us of her son.”
“It could have turned out the other way. The other baby could have been Beverly and Reed’s child.”
“Yes, it could have. And we would have notified the authorities if that had been the case. We would have asked for its remains so we could give it a decent burial. I imagine Heather and Michael will want to do that. But the police will probably grill them. They’ll have to answer some difficult questions. According to the article we read, this is being treated like a homicide.”
Justin nodded. He’d assumed the infant had been murdered, too.
“After you go home, after you settle things in Texas, will you come back?” Brian asked. “Will you visit with us? Will you give us a chance?”
Justin stalled, thinking about his angel, about the possibility that she was Maya, the maid who’d been too uncomfortable to meet his gaze. How could he keep his promise to her if he didn’t return?
“We’d like to make a formal announcement,” Brian added. “Introduce you to the rest of the family and tell all of our friends who you are. Maybe host a few parties.”
Parties? Justin snagged Leo’s gaze and felt his bones go cold. He didn’t want to get caught up in being the long-lost nephew, in being Denny Halloway’s revered grandson, in having men like Leo standing guard. But he’d already made his mind up earlier that he wasn’t going to abandon the woman who’d asked for his help.
“Our pilot can take you to Texas,” Brian said. “And he can bring you back. It’s the family jet. That’s what it’s for.”
“Where’s my truck?”
“Here. In the garage. But you’re not going to drive, are you?”
“No. I’ll fly. On your jet,” Justin responded, praying that he was making the right choice.
That his angel was worth it.
The chef scowled at Maya. A wiry man with a shaved head and a neatly trimmed goatee, he used his apron strings like tentacles.
Maya didn’t like him. But none of the kitchen maids did. Behind his back, they called him Lucifer.
She finished preparing the cart, and he peered over her shoulder, inspecting her work.
Several hours after Justin had attended the private meeting, he’d ordered dinner for himself and the puppy she’d seen in the parlor. Or she assumed it was Justin who’d requested the meal. He was the only visitor at the mansion.
“Maids aren’t allowed to consort with guests,” Lucifer said, lifting his pointy nose at her.
Her pulse wouldn’t quit pounding. “I know.”
“Mr. Elk specifically asked for you.”
Damn, she thought. Damn. “I didn’t provoke that.” Nor had she known that Justin’s last name was Elk.
The chef measured her. “I certainly hope not. Now get going. He’s in the Garden Tower.”
Maya didn’t respond. The suite where Justin had been held hostage, the room she’d secretly visited, was aptly named, towering over the garden with a prestigious view.
She took the service elevator to the third floor and traveled down what suddenly seemed like an endless hallway.
She knocked on Justin’s door, and he gave her permission to enter.
Maya wheeled the cart into the sitting room, and the puppy ran toward her. Justin stood beside the sofa. Tall and dark with rangy muscles, he shifted his stance. His hair rebelled against the way he wore it, falling onto his forehead even though he’d combed it straight back. A glimmer of silver winked in his left ear. She hadn’t noticed the tiny hoop before, but it fit his Cherokee side, the quarter-blood roots he’d told her about.
Taking a deep breath, she warned herself to relax. When she looked up and met his gaze, she saw the scrutiny in his eyes.
He suspected her.
“Where would you like to eat?” she asked.
He kept watching her, trying to figure her out. “At the table is fine.”
She moved toward the cozy dining area. Sniffing the air, the puppy followed.
“You can put his bowl on the floor,” Justin said.
She nodded and gave the dog his food. He ate it noisily, wolfing it down with chowhound vigor.
As she arranged Justin’s silverware, her heart struck her chest. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her, not even to blink.
She struggled to keep her distance, to not give herself away. Or to admit that she was attracted to him. That sitting beside him on his bed and brushing her hand along his cheek had made her warm.
Erotically warm.
“Do you know why I’m here?” he asked, attempting to call her bluff.
She didn’t respond.
“Because I’m a Halloway,” he told her. “A long-lost relative.”
Maya dropped his salad fork, and it chimed against the table. She recovered it quickly, but the damage was already done. Justin gauged her reaction, watching her with keener interest.
She’d sneaked into his room because she needed an ally. Because she was hoping that a man who’d been kidnapped would jump at the chance to fight back. But if she’d known who he was, she would’ve never approached him.
“According to Brian, my mother was his sister.” He pushed his hair back, battling the rain-straight rebellion. “Her name was Beverly. She’s dead now.”
Maya tried to focus on her job, to pour his wine, but her hand wouldn’t quit shaking. She’d seen Beverly’s portrait in the den, hanging on the wall like a shrine.
No wonder Justin was important to the Halloways. No wonder they hadn’t intended to hurt him.
How stupid could she be, seeking him out? But worse yet was admitting that someone in her family had gone missing. What if he told the Halloways? What if they found a way to connect her to her dad?
Justin pulled up a chair and sat at the table, forcing his proximity, making Maya lose her train of thought. Her mind was twirling like a press-and-spin top. She struggled to serve his meal.
“They said that Reed Blackwood is my father. But I always thought he was my uncle.”
She tried not to flinch. He was bringing up Reed’s name to get her reaction. She’d already told him that she’d read about his uncle…his dad. Heaven help her.
“I’m returning to Texas in the morning,” Justin said. “That’s where I’m from. I wasn’t sure if you were aware of that.”
“Then I hope you have a good trip,” she finally responded, trying to sound like a proper maid, as if she didn’t know anything about him.
“I’m