Shadow of Sin (The Martin Family) (19 page)

Brandon spoke up. “It seems too much of a coincidence that Mark would play gun for hire for a guy like Matteo.”

“Wait a minute. That name…” Alec rummaged through the files on the table. He opened one and scanned the contents, flipping through page after page until he found what he was looking for. His face paled.

“Caleb. Carlotta Matteo’s maiden name was Shaw. You don’t think …”

Alec’s question hung in the air as Caleb fought the emotions that raged within him.

The missing address book, which would contain not only his information, but that of his siblings. Carlotta hiring Samantha—who was known around town to be close to Alec and Amanda. The Five Crowns.

This wasn’t about Samantha.

“Mark isn’t connected to Samantha. He’s connected to
me
,” Caleb ground out as the pieces began to make sense. “Jesus Christ, he’s trying to get to me.”

Son of a bitch, it
was
his fault—every bit of anger, pain, and fear Samantha had dealt with over the last year. All because of him.

Joe cocked an arrogant brow. “Looks like you’ve got your legitimate reason to wake Sam now.”

Amanda didn’t even glance his way as she bolted out of her chair and stormed from the room.

Caleb didn’t mind the silence as they waited for the women to join them. He hadn’t trusted himself to follow Amanda. If he were to see Samantha laying in bed, he’d want to strip naked and join her, wrap his arms around her and keep her from harm. He’d reach for the solace he’d only found with her. Losing himself in the sweet pleasure of her body was not an option. Not when he’d been the one to place her in danger.

“She’s gone.” Breathless, Amanda’s eyes held a hint of panic as she ran back into the room. “So is your truck, Alec.”

Caleb surged to his feet. “What do you mean she’s gone?” His stomach clenched as he swallowed back his own rising panic. Mark was still out there.

“You forget how to interpret English?” Amanda bit out. “She’s gone. As in she’s not in this house.” Her accusatory tone indicated that, for some reason, she blamed him for Samantha’s absence.

Alec opened his laptop and started clicking away at the screen.

“She doesn’t have a cell phone, if that’s what you’re doing,” Amanda said, again glaring at him, only this time, rightfully so.

“Goddammit!” Caleb circled around and shoved his chair hard enough to chip the table. “Where would she go?”

Alec raised his hand and snapped a finger. “Got her. She’s on the highway heading west. If we go now, we won’t be far behind her.”

“If what Charlie says is true, Mark is still out there,” Caleb reminded them. “Let’s get a move on.”

Chapter 19

By the time Samantha turned onto the gravel driveway that led to Carlotta’s old farmhouse, her tears had dried up. She felt … exhausted. Empty and weak. Sad and foolish.

She’d known better than to let her heart get the better of her where Caleb was concerned, but she’d done it anyway. She’d allowed herself to get caught up in being his lover. In the gentle smiles he shared so freely with her now. In the hard lines of his body, and the way he’d commanded her pleasure. In Caleb’s arms, she’d forgotten what it was like to feel alone.

Amazing how quickly that feeling came back once she’d left Alec’s house. Like riding a bike.

She turned off the truck and slouched back into the seat. It’d been irresponsible to leave like that. Like most times when hurt and temper took control of her brain, it’d made perfect sense when she’d done it. And also, like most times, once she’d cleared her head, she’d realized it hadn’t been the best idea.

Oh well, it wasn’t as though Vincent was still a problem. She was here—too late to do anything about that. She’d call Alec once she got inside. Caleb would be furious, but she was okay with that. They needed to get back to business as usual. Having him rail and carry on about how she never listened, that she was too independent, too stubborn—blah, blah, blah—would restore the status quo between them. The faster they got back to normal, the faster she could pick up the pieces of her heart and get back to … what? Her work? Her friends, most of whom shared the same gene pool as the man she’d have to forget?

She crossed her arms over the steering wheel, dropped her head and groaned out loud. “I’m gonna have to move.”

It took several minutes for the pity party to play out in her head. Move to California. Lots of people there in need of her legal expertise. Buy a house on the beach, drive the coast on the weekends. She wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but if they had samples, she could take in a winery or twelve on her coastal excursions. That should do the trick.

Samantha let her mind wander. She knew from experience that whining and feeling sorry for herself—even in the solitude of her own head—would get on her nerves and she’d be able to let it go. Something she’d learned as a child, and she’d survived
that
. She’d find a way to deal with this, too.

Samantha got out of the truck and mashed the lock button out of habit. It wasn’t like Carlotta had close neighbors, and she doubted anyone would be coming by at this time of the morning.

Carlotta’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but Samantha knocked on the door anyway. She cupped her face and looked through the window in the door but didn’t see any movement.

The fresh air felt good against her face as she walked around to the back of the house. It was nice out here. The gentle scent from the flower gardens mixed with the scent of neighboring cattle and the only sound was the crunch of the gravel under her feet. She loved the excitement of the city, but there was something about the country that soothed her.

She’d refused to keep a key to this old farmhouse, but had agreed to a hiding place in case of an emergency. Carlotta wouldn’t mind if she let herself in to use the house phone. Since Caleb hadn’t seen fit to replace her cell, she didn’t have a choice. She’d go in, call Alec to let him know she was sorry for boosting his truck, and that she’d be back soon.

She’d hoped to be able to tell Carlotta the news about her ex-husband while she was here, but she didn’t know where she was or how long she’d be gone. She could call her, but Alec and Amanda’s numbers were the only ones she knew by heart and she wasn’t leaving that kind of message in a note on the counter.

Retrieving the key, Samantha let herself in the side door and was immediately assaulted with sticky warmth. Good lord. The temperature outside remained mild, but inside, it felt as though the house had been shut up tight for a while. By the time she’d traveled through the mudroom, past the kitchen, and into the living room, a light sheen of perspiration covered her skin.

Samantha opened the curtains to let some light in, then decided to open the windows, too. No reason she couldn’t air the room out before she left. She’d also double check the air conditioner. If something was wrong, she’d have it replaced. Texas summers could run even the sturdiest cooling units into the ground.

She tossed Alec’s keys on the coffee table and frowned, hands on her hips as she looked around. Other than the couch and coffee table, the room was bare. No pictures on the walls. No other furniture.

She hadn’t expected Carlotta to be Susie Homemaker, but this place didn’t even look occupied.

Curiosity got the best of her and she walked through the rest of the house. Each room was the same. Windows covered, minimal amounts of furniture and bare walls. Her shoes echoed through the hallway as she came to the last room, what she assumed would be the master bedroom, since there weren’t any signs of life anywhere else. Maybe Carlotta had felt safer staying in the back of the house, a place where she’d hear someone coming long before they got there. Samantha understood that.

The room was dark, so she reached in and flipped the switch. Nothing.

Great. Maybe Carlotta had an aversion to light bulbs too.

She went to the window and threw the curtains open. Dust flew and Samantha covered her nose with a cough as she moved away from the offending material.

She took a quick assessment of the room. The bed was flanked by matching nightstands, one of which supported an old-fashioned cradle telephone. A cedar chest sat at the end.

She was moving toward the door she assumed was either a closet or a bathroom when a deep, male voice startled her.

“Hello, Samantha.”

She spun and stumbled back, catching her leg on the bench at the end of the bed. She fell back, her ass hitting the floor hard. So much for the hearing-someone-before-they’re-in-your-face theory.

“Mark.” Samantha stared in disbelief at the man in the doorway, his damaged face void of expression. “What’re you doing here? Are you following me?”

“One should always keep an eye in their rear view.”

Okay, that was a little creepy. She got up and dusted off her backside. “Right. I’ll remember that. You scared the shit out of me. Jesus. What do you think you’re doing following me out here? Why’re you following me at all?”

He made a noise of disgust. “Arrogant. What makes you think I’m here for you?” His head tilted to the side as if considering his own question. “You really are a stupid bitch, aren’t you?”

Samantha took a step back at his insult. She stared at the man lounging casually in the doorway, his eyes as dark as his expression. This was not the man she knew. This man was dangerous. Scary.

Samantha’s gaze darted toward the phone as her pulse kicked up a few notches.

“Be my guest.” Mark waved his hand in challenge.

She moved slowly, not taking her eyes off him as she grabbed for the receiver and brought it to her ear. Fear knotted her stomach at the silence that greeted her.

“Line’s dead.” She suspected he’d already known.

Seemingly satisfied, he pushed from the doorway and approached her.

“You’re wise to be afraid.”

“What’s going on, Mark?” She hated that her voice shook.

“Not what you’d think.”

“You just said I should be afraid. You’ve got no plans to hurt me then? You just stop by for tea?” What was wrong with him? Mark got within arms reach of her and she jumped, rolling across the bed, trying to keep as much distance between them as she could.

He surprised her by laughing. His face softened, giving her a glimpse of the charming man she’d met over coffee so many months ago. “So feisty. It’ll be a shame to kill you. Very few people in this world can make me laugh.”

“Lucky me.”

Terror lanced her veins as she sought a way out. Samantha hadn’t the foggiest idea what she’d done to deserve this, but if he thought to kill her, he wouldn’t do it without a fight. She wouldn’t go quietly.

Never again.

The toes of her boots bit into the floor as she lunged toward the door. Mark’s body collided with hers, taking them both to the floor. The air whooshed from her lungs as they landed, his larger, heavier frame pinning her to the hardwood. Bile rose in her throat as she felt the hard ridge of his erection against her ass.

No, no, no. This wasn’t happening.

Her chest burned with the need for oxygen when he fisted her hair and jerked her head back. “Don’t get excited. I have other plans for you. But, if you keep struggling I might change my mind.”

Samantha stilled, her heart pounding a violent beat.

“That’s a good girl.” His breath hummed against her ear as he pressed into her again before he hoisted up and pulled her to her feet. “If you try to escape me, I
will
kill them. Starting with that little blonde you favor. Amanda, is it?” He brushed a tender hand down her cheek before shoving the barrel of a gun under her chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, and I’ll make it quick. Otherwise … well … let’s just say it won’t be pleasant for you. Now, move.”

He pushed her when she apparently didn’t move fast enough. “I don’t understand. What is this about? I thought —”

“You thought as I wanted you to think,” Mark spat, prodding her down the hallway and back into the living room. She stumbled as he shoved her toward the couch. “You’re a puppet, you stupid whore, nothing more. I control your strings. Do you think Carlotta found you by chance?”

Samantha dropped to the couch, shocked by the fact that somehow, Mark knew Carlotta, yet still very much aware of the gun pointed at her chest. “How do you know Carlotta?”

Mark sighed as if she’d irritated him. “You’ll die soon, so I’ll tell you. She was my sister.” His voice lacked any sense of affection. “She actually thought I’d forgiven her. That I’d come back as some sort of angel to save her from her life of misery.”

He made a noise of disgust as he looked down at her. “She was a distraction, used to make you think her idiot husband was stalking you. Of course, I prodded her into questioning her husband’s fidelity, which produced some nasty results, as you might remember. Vincent wasn’t the kind of man who liked to be questioned.”

That wasn’t the story Carlotta had told her about the abuse, but she was beginning to think nothing was as she’d thought.

“Once the ball was rolling, so to speak, I was able to search for the information I needed. It really wasn’t that difficult to make you think Vincent had been the one to break into your office and your apartment.”

“What were you looking for?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking.

His eyes narrowed on her. “Who Caleb Martin cared about. He’d never talked about his family with me. I wanted to know who to take from him that would bring him the most pain. You were most helpful in that regard, by the way.”

Samantha stared at him, trying to process what he’d said.

Caleb. He wanted to hurt Caleb. He wanted to hurt
her
to hurt Caleb.

She should keep him talking. Keep him distracted until she could figure out what to do. Vincent had been murdered, what about… “Where’s Carlotta?”

He gave her a self-satisfied grin. “Dead.”

She closed her eyes against the pain that tore through her chest. “You killed her?”

“You’re damn right I killed her!” Mark got in her face, his shout loud enough rattle the windows and a few of her teeth. “She deserved to die. She left me out there to rot. She believed them when they told her I’d died, just as Caleb had believed them. Caleb is a mindless tool—a slave to those who command him—and he’ll pay for his part in what happened to me. But, Carlotta was my sister. She should’ve known I was alive. She should’ve insisted they look for me.”

Mark grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at him. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for that bitch. I did her a favor. She was weak, broken. Easily manipulated. And … she didn’t marry very well.”

Samantha fought back tears as his fingers bit into her flesh. “Did you kill Vincent too?”

He let go and crouched down to eye level. “I stole your lover’s knife. Considering the use I put it to, he should have been arrested. How glorious it would’ve been to kill you while he was behind bars, unable to do anything to save you. Only, he didn’t leave you alone and they didn’t arrest him, did they? They fucking let him go.” He dragged the barrel of his gun across her legs. “Now, I’ll have to improvise.”

A wave of nausea burned her chest as she raised her eyes to the ceiling.

God help her, she was going to die in this house.

* * *

Caleb eased through the door, closing it silently behind him. He stayed low, unsure of what awaited. The GPS had led them to Alec’s truck, but it was the vehicle parked next to it that had concerne
d him. The high-powered, high-class sports car resembled one known to be owned by Vincent Matteo.

“I’m in,” he breathed, moving along the wall to the doorway on the other side. A quick look into the kitchen and he moved again, following the appliances around to the edge of the room.

“I don’t understand. Why the game, Mark? What’s the point, if you plan to kill me anyway?”

Caleb tensed as he heard Samantha’s strained voice. He peered into the living room and saw her sitting on the couch. His gaze drifted to the man crouched in front of her. Shock ripped through his system as he pulled back, pressing flat against the wall. That face, although badly scarred, had been etched into his memory.

He’d heard what Charlie had said, but deep down, he hadn’t believed it.

It seemed the past wasn’t dead after all.

“The point was to watch that bastard suffer, as I’d suffered. All those years, the beatings, the torture. It should’ve been him. I’d been very specific in my instructions as to where he’d be, yet it was
me
they took. It was me they threw in a hole and left for days and days. It was me that … it should’ve been
him
,” Mark snarled.

So, it was true. The son of a bitch had sold them out. He’d betrayed his team and his country. Caleb’s hands shook with anger as he realized his perception of that day had been way off. He’d been over and over it—relived it every night—and he’d never been able to figure out where he’d gone wrong. He hadn’t considered one of his own men would turn on him.