BENEATH THE SILK Page 3

  Yes, Silks sold feel-good fantasy on a hanger. She hadn't thought about it in quite that way when she'd opened the doors a few years ago, but it was a necessary marketing tool in the competitive world of retail.

  Her private musing had again created dead silence. Luckily, like before, Joey came to the rescue. "Sunni owns an exclusive silk shop at Masado Towers. You'll have to check it out when you come by to see me. You're coming, right?"

  "Yeah, tomorrow. I just got into town."

  That was a lie. He'd been following her for three days.

  Rambo eyed her half-eaten plate of food. "Didn't like your veal pizzaiola, Miss Blais?"

  Nothing about this man should surprise her. But taking notice of what she'd ordered was unexpected. Again she faltered for words, and again, Joey came to her rescue. "Tell Vina the food was as good as ever."

  "I'll tell her."

  Joey let go of her hand and reached for his half-full wineglass.

  "Tomorrow, mio fratello, I'll give you a tour and we'll catch up."

  Joey had just called Rambo his brother. Knowing that wasn't true in the literal sense, she decided that he was definitely connected in some way to the mob.

  He started to turn away, then stopped, his eyes fastening on Sunni's cleavage … then on her face. Grinning, he said, "It's been a pleasure seeing you. I look forward to next time."

  Dangerous or not—this man needed to know she wasn't going to go down easy. And he needed to know there was more beneath her red silk dress than a memorable set of bubbles. She also had long legs that could run a six-minute mile. And she was no slouch on the firing range with her .22 automatic.

  Chin raised, Sunni corrected him. "You mean meeting me, don't you … Jackson?"

  Undaunted by her challenge, his grin opened up. "That, too, Sunni."

  * * *

  "What was that?" Jackson's mother asked the minute he returned to his chair.

  "What was what, Ma?"

  "You were flirting with Joey's girlfriend. Instead of ogling his lady, you should be pleased that he's dating again and looking so happy."

  "Don't you mean still alive and breathing, Ma?"

  Lavina's scowl sent her glasses to the end of her nose. "Jackson, your nasty side is showing again."

  He reached across the table and shoved his mother's glasses back up. "Joe's doing what he does best, Ma. What all the Masados do best. I accepted that a long time ago, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

  "I admit I worry about those two boys."

  "Joe's got bodyguards watching his back. Lucky doesn't need any. Don't lose sleep over it, Ma."

  "What both of those boys need is their best friend showing them a little more compassion."

  "They need more than that, Ma. They need Frank shipped off to another planet so they can breathe some fresh air."

  Lavina Ward reached out and patted her son's hand. "Joey looked good, though, didn't he? So handsome in that shiny suit. Why don't you get yourself a suit like that?"

  "Because I don't have two grand to blow, Ma."

  "That suit cost that much?"

  "He's Frank's money machine, Ma. Remember?"

  "What he is, Jackson, is your best friend."

  Yes, he and Joe were friends. Lucky, too. They had formed the Brotherhood when they had been three small boys with no last names, just watching cartoons and playing in his ma's backyard. But then the boys grew into men. Frank put Joe in an expensive suit and Lucky on the street with a gun in his hand, and ev­erything after that had gotten complicated.

  Jackson still didn't understand it, and he knew he probably never would. He was a cop and they were syndicate connected. And still they were his … fratelli.

  He nodded to Joe as his friend escorted Sunni Blais out of the restaurant half listening to his mother.

  "I said, I wonder what happened between Joey and Sophia D'Lano. They were engaged for over a year, and then he just up and broke it off."

  "I heard Frank's still trying to put it back together."

  "See, I knew you were keeping track of things back home."

  His mother's smile was smug as a bug. "Okay. Ma, so I've kept an eye on Joe and Lucky from a distance. What of it?"

  "Nothing. It's just nice to hear, is all."

  Jackson leaned back and studied his mother. Her black hair had turned gray and she was sporting a few more age lines around her soft brown eyes. Still, she was a pretty woman for fifty-seven. Best of all, she looked happy. He supposed he owed that to Charlie. The retired military man had moved in across the street five years ago, and had been trying to attract his mother's attention from day one. Recently, in their weekly phone conversations, she'd mentioned him with more frequency.

  Attaboy, Charlie, Jackson thought—his mother deserved some happiness. She'd been alone for too many years.

  Back on track, he asked. "Do you know Sunni Blais, the woman with Joe tonight?"

  "Not before last week. She's the woman the police are investigating in the Tandi murder."

  "Did she do it?" Jackson watched his mother's reaction to the question.

  "How should I know?"

  "There're rumors moving through here daily, Ma. You have to have heard something."

  "You can't believe rumors, you know that. But after seeing her…"

  "Go on."

  "She owns an underwear shop at Masado Towers, Jackson. You're the man who moved to the sin capital of the world. I shouldn't have to tell you that a woman as beautiful as that most likely wears the hundred-dollar underwear she sells. And that kind of expensive silk, dear boy, is made to be seen, not kept undercover." Suddenly eyeing her son's head, she said, "You've cut your hair. What prompted that?"

  "The heat." It wasn't a lie. Still, he wouldn't mention he was having boss trouble or she'd start pestering him about moving back to Chicago where he belonged.

  She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest to study her son. "It looks good. You look like your father."

  It was still hard to talk about his father's death and the dark years prior to it. His father's diabetes had been a nightmare for all of them. "How's the knee, Ma?"

  "Like new." She swung her leg out from under the table to show him how easily her knee could move without pain.

  When she'd had surgery a year ago, Jackson had returned to Chicago for a week. That had been the one and only time he'd been back since he’d relocated to New Orleans.

  "Tell me about your partner."

  Jackson hadn't mentioned Mac to his mother, outside the fact that he had a new partner. She still didn't know he was a dog. "Mac made the trip with me."

  "Then this is a field assignment, not a vacation?"

  "I guess you could call it that."

  "You guess? Either it is or it isn't, Jackson."

  "Okay, Ma, it's work related." His mother was studying him with one raised eyebrow. "What?"

  "This assignment, can you talk about it?"

  "It has to do with the Tandi murder, Ma. But that's not for public discussion, okay?"

  "You know I never talk to anyone about your work."

  He knew that, and that's why he always felt free to bounce ideas off her. "Okay, here it is. Sunni Blais is my boss's daughter. I'm here to clear her name."

  His mother's eyes widened with surprise. "That woman is your boss's daughter?"

  "What about the old scandal, Ma? Could Milo's death have something to do with the old feud with Frank Masado?"

  "It's true the scandal has never really died out. People still talk, still speculate where Grace is buried. But the rules Vito and Frank play by have never changed. It seems more likely that this woman killed Milo. The evidence is pretty convincing."

  "But she's innocent, Ma."

  "A few minutes ago you asked me what I've been hearing, like your mind wasn't made up. Now you say she's innocent." Lavina shook her head. "I can tell you this much, she doesn't look like a victim."

  Mouth-watering curves outlined in red silk flashed behind Jackson's e
yes. No, he decided, a woman showing off smother-me-please breasts to the degree Sunni had tonight didn't look like a victim. But did being beautiful and owning a million-dollar chest make her a murderess?

  "Women who look like that are dangerous, Jackson. Look what happened to Frank Masado. Grace Tandi was the most beautiful woman alive. Frank knew better than to sleep with his best friend's wife, so why did he? I'll tell you why. Because Grace tricked him into thinking with his Johnson instead of his head."

  Jackson grinned. "His what, Ma?"

  "You know what I'm talking about." She scowled when Jackson chuckled. "Maybe you should warn Joey to be careful. And take a little of that advice for yourself."

  Jackson snorted. "Warn Joe? Like he would listen to me any more than Lucky would."

  "You underestimate yourself, Jackson. I can still picture you boys lined up on the couch in the living room watching cartoons. You three used to belly-laugh together so hard that you would turn blue and almost stop breathing. You camped together. Went to movies. Shared spaghetti off the same plate. Slept out in the rain together in that old leaky clubhouse in the backyard. Those two boys had a hand in shaping you, and making you who you are today. And contrary to popular belief, it wasn't Frank who made Joey and Lucky who they are. Who they really are, anyway." Lavina patted her son's arm, then pushed his coffee cup toward him and raised hers in a salute. "Friends forever, Jackson. To the end and beyond."

  Jackson raised his cup, then downed the strong coffee and stood. He'd left Mac asleep on the couch, and more than likely something in the apartment needed rescuing by now—the desk chair, the bedspread … his T-shirt. "So if I get a chance to pick you up a pair of underwear at Silks in the next day or two, what color do you fancy, Ma? Widow-spider black, or chili-pepper, too-hot-to-handle red?"

  Lavina took a wild swing at her son and missed. "What would a woman my age do with silk drawers?"

  Jackson leaned down and kissed his mother's cheek, then whispered. "Give Charlie a thrill. It's his birthday next month, right?" As he headed for the door, he tossed over his shoulder, "Maybe a better present would be saying yes next time he asks you to marry him."

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  « ^ »

  A strange feeling raised the hair on the back of Sunni's neck. It was as if she and Joey had chased a thief out the back door as they had come through the front door.

  But that was impossible. She was just spooked, is all. And the blame rested squarely on Rambo's broad shoulders—that wicked grin he'd flashed her a second before he'd walked away from their table had gotten her so flustered her imagination was playing tricks on her.

  Sunni shoved the green-eyed demon from her thoughts and concentrated on getting Joey Masado out of her apartment as soon as possible. She said, "You wanted to talk privately. So talk."

  "Who's your decorator?"

  She glanced toward her dinner date and found him standing in the middle of her living room studying her taste in decor. "Me." As a good host, she was forced to ask, "Would you care for something to drink? Beer? Wine? Something stronger?"

  "Beer would be fine. I like all the color."

  The Crown Plaza was an upscale apartment complex, but the sterility of white walls and white carpets had driven Sunni on a quest to bring a touch of warmth into her home. She loved bold colors, especially red, and had painted the living room raspberry red, and her kitchen and small dining room, a shade lighter.

  A sculptured glass coffee table separated a pair of mustard-yellow leather sofas. Wing chairs in raspberry-and-green-rose-patterned tapestry were used as accents. A number of expensive Tiffany lamps also expressed Sunni's love for color—her favorite a one-of-a-kind Calafar with a giant red-and-amber shade that stood behind one of the sofas. A built-in bookshelf hinted that Sunni's interest in roses was more than just casual—her book collection was as extensive as the fragrant collection she had in her greenhouse.

  A dozen damask and silk pillows scattered throughout the living room gave the space a female-shrine feeling, as did the bone china in her kitchen cupboards, and the fresh-cut roses in colorful vases that could be found in every room—even the bathroom.

  "Maybe I should have you make a few suggestions for brightening up my suite at Masado Towers."

  He turned and Sunni was surprised to find him smiling. The spare expression softened his dramatic good looks and made him appear more human. She rounded the island counter and took one step up to enter the kitchen. As she retrieved the requested beer, she said, “I’m sure you can find someone far more qualified."

  Beer in hand, she turned around, knowing that he had followed her into the kitchen. She handed him the beverage, avoiding his warm brown eyes, and headed back into the living room.

  "Are you afraid of me?"

  She would be a fool to admit it, but she wouldn't lie. Sunni leveled him a look from behind one of the leather sofas. "You said you had something to discuss with me."

  "First let me say that I'm not here to force myself on you. So relax. You're beautiful, and I'm sure a night in your bed would be memorable, but I never mix business with pleasure. Tonight is business."

  Sunni raised her chin. "Then state your business."

  "I know about the deal Milo proposed to you several weeks ago."

  He knew about the partnership. How?

  Suddenly the room felt too warm. Sunni rounded the sofa and headed for the sliding glass door. She brushed aside the sheer curtain to unlock it, but it was already open. Momentarily surprised, she reminded herself of the fresh roses she'd cut that morning in the greenhouse. She must have forgotten to relock it … again.

  "Tomas knew the day Milo approached you. Was that all he wanted from you, just the silent partnership?"

  The fall breeze lifted the curtain's hem as Sunni stood gazing at the dark sky. "Milo Tandi's deal included some perks, as he called them. But his image of himself, at least in my book, was terribly overrated."

  "Unlike me, Milo liked to mix business with pleasure."

  "He didn't hide the fact that he was interested in me personally, but his interest in the partnership was what we talked about. I told him I wasn't interested." Sunni turned to face him. "Why are you still smiling? I thought you would be angry."

  "I'm smiling because seeing Milo's expression when you told him no would have been worth a cool million. He doesn't get told no that often."

  "True, he didn't like hearing it. That's why he kept the offer on the table."

  "Meaning he pressured you?"

  "He died before it came to that. But, yes, I think he would have gotten heavy-handed eventually."

  "Would he have been successful … eventually?"

  "I've sacrificed a lot to make Silks a success. It's mine. I created it, and I should be the one to own it. Completely."

  His smile widened. "Very good answer, Sunni. Now, I'm told you have a greenhouse on your terrace. Will you show it to me?"

  "You like roses?"

  "Is that hard to believe?"

  "Honestly?"

  "I would appreciate it."

  "Yes. You don't look like the flowery type."

  His sudden laugh was rich and open. It brought a hint of boyish charm to him that Sunni found attractive.

  Inside the greenhouse, she showed him the climbing William Baffins and Celsianas. The long blooming rugosas. England's impressive white Yorks and red Lancasters were some of the most fragrant.

  "You did good tonight." Joey leaned across the long work table to take a delicate white Rosa souileana into his hand and sniff. "If we keep the game going, Williams will back off. These smell like heaven, Sunni." He turned and guided her onto the terrace. In one corner an iron table and two chairs attracted him and he sat.

  Sunni remained standing. She said, "I'm confused why you would care one way or the other whether I'm a suspect in the Tandi murder."

  "It's important to Masado Towers' image. Don't get me wrong. I believe you're innocent. But a full-scale investigation wo
uld be awkward for us. I supplied the alibi as added insurance until Williams wakes up and starts looking in a different direction."

  It made sense. An intense investigation for a family connected with the organization could pose serious problems.

  She regretted wearing the revealing red shift. She could feel Joey dissecting her again and she turned away, her gaze locking on the fourth floor apartment across the alley. The room was dark at the Wilchard. Was Rambo there, sitting in the dark watching them, or was he still out?

  "Did you hear what I said?"

  No, she hadn't. Sunni turned. "What?"

  "I asked if you were afraid to stay here alone."

  She came forward and pulled the chair away from the table and sat across from him. "Should I be?"

  "Vito Tandi will be hunting for Milo's killer, as will the police. I could put you up at Masado Towers if you like."

  "But I'm innocent, remember?"

  "Innocent, but alone. On your lease you didn't list any sisters or brothers. And with both of your parents deceased, there's no one to protect you."

  Sunni nodded, even now determined to keep the lie her secret. It was true what she had told him a short time ago. She had worked too hard to turn Silks into a success. "I'm fine, really."

  "I can protect you, Sunni. You can trust that."

  His declaration prompted her to question whether or not she should tell him about Rambo. But if they were friends, maybe he already hew that his fratello was staying at the Wilchard. No, Rambo had lied. He'd told Joey he'd just gotten into town, which meant he no longer lived in Chicago.

  He drained his beer quickly, set the bottle on the table, then stood. "I'm good at what I do, Sunni. But you're going to have to do your part, too."

  "My part? I don't understand."

  He reached out and pulled her to her feet and kissed her. Kissed her quickly, like a man who had the capability to be as tender as he could be cruel.

  As Sunni tried to shove him away, he slid his strong hand up her back and crushed her full breasts against him. He nuzzled her neck, whispered, "Someone's watching us. A shadow at the apartment window across the alley. No, don't look. It's show time, Sunni. Kiss your alibi like a woman in love."