Chapter Ten: Tony's Place

"Morton Moray, how dare you talk to me like that? I'm your CEO! What do you mean, for now? How dare you!" Mary's green eyes flashed fire as she hung up the phone. Even when she turned to Marco, her expression was still smoldering, a flush of anger on her cheeks. "More than thirty years, Moray and his brothers and his father before him have worked with us and made good money. And now he wants to challenge my leadership because I dare to give free milk to the orphanage!"

"It never makes sense to give it away," Marco growled, his dark eyes unreadable as he circled around the massive desk in Mary's private office. Standing behind her chair, his powerful hands clamped down on her shoulders. For a moment the brutal ex-convict wished that it was red-haired Elizabeth he had in his grasp instead. Just one sharp twist and he could snap her neck. All he had to do was tighten . . . tighten . . .

"Mm." Mary was enjoying what Marco was doing, utterly unaware of his dark thoughts. Unlike her cousin Elizabeth, she was never the type of woman to stay angry for long. Already she was beginning to relax. Her eyes fell shut, the tension draining from her body as Marco's fingers loosened the tense muscles at the base of her neck. Her sigh of pleasure was an unconscious invitation, and it made his own body tighten instantly in response.

"You can't trust the Morays," the masseur grunted, fighting the urge to have the powerful CEO right on her own desk. "You can't trust any of the people around her. You can't even trust . . ." he choked himself off, cursing his own guilty hide. He was being paid to ruin Mary, not save her.

"I know one Moray we can trust." Unexpectedly, Mary's sea-green eyes flew open. She jumped up from her desk as though rejuvenated by the brief massage. "Moray's father, Mort Moray Sr. He lives out in Indian Valley, and he's been crazy about me ever since I was a little girl!"

"I'll bet he has." Moray Sr. was probably feeble-minded, shouldered aside by his shark-like sons. But Mary didn't care. She was all about seeing the best in people, and to her a day spent recapturing her happy childhood memories was just as important as a day spent making money or outwitting her enemies. "Listen, baby doll . . ." Marco began, trying to warn her in time.

Mary threw her slender white arms around his bull neck, and pressed her face against his. "No, you listen, big boy," she said, doing a candy-assed gangster imitation. "I know you think taking a day off is a big mistake. Elizabeth is tightening the noose. I can feel it. But I have my own weapons, my own strategy. So for now you're just going to have to trust me." She kissed him, her lips light and teasing. "Give in, Marco. You know you want to."

"I still do the driving."

Marco's guilt gnawed on him as he drove the powder blue sports car down a long, leafy series of country roads, each one seeming to leave the modern world farther and farther behind. The tough hood understood that Mary was actually putting pressure on him by leaving him behind the wheel. She didn't have to say she trusted him. All she had to do was shut her eyes while he drove and drove, as if she knew she was in good hands.

"Hey, wake up."

"This isn't Moray's. Where are we?" Mary blinked her emerald eyes in confusion. Marco had parked them in front of a boarded up restaurant in the middle of nowhere.

"This was my Uncle Tony's place," Marco said. He was looking at the boarded up building as if he could see into the past. "He was a good guy, my uncle. When my old man knocked me around, I used to come here and stay. At first I just swept up under the tables. Then later I got to be a pretty good cook."

"I'll bet you were an amazing cook," Mary said, stretching in her seat. "And I'm certain your uncle must have been very special." Her soft voice was still husky from sleep, yet her mischievous green eyes brightened as they roamed over Marco's muscular body and slowly focused on his brooding features.

"Tony was a dreamer," Marco said harshly. "He knew the guys who came here were connected. But he thought they were his friends. So when they offered to invest in this place, he was happy to go along. It turned out the money was dirty, though. A lot of drug money got into the pizza pies. And when the roof caved in, Uncle Tony was broke and out of business. The wise guys kept all their money . . . and his."

"Why are you telling me this, Marco?" Mary was sitting up now, wide awake. Her eyes searched his, gentle yet piercing.

Marco took her face in his hands, framing her pale features. His voice was thick with passion. "You can't trust your family, kiddo. You can't trust childhood friends. When it comes to business, nothing counts but money."

"Your uncle did the right thing, believing in you," Mary said softly. "Don't let him down a second time."

Marco knew right then that Mary was going down. Elizabeth would take her for every penny. It would be better for everyone if he whacked her here and now, in a place with no witnesses. He dropped his hands to her throat, feeling the pulse beat steadily beneath his fingers. Mary didn't try to wrestle free. She let him fight it out all on his own. For a brief moment Marco almost thought he'd won.

Then instead of killing her, he kissed her.