Page 1 of Lawbreaker

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Odalie Everett sat seemingly relaxed in her seat on Tony Garza’s private jet, but inside she was a bundle of nerves. She and Tony had been adversaries since their first meeting, years ago. He mostly looked through her, and he could be bitingly sarcastic. It should have deterred her from thinking about him, but it didn’t. He was gorgeous.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he lounged opposite her in a chair, sending text messages on his phone. He frightened most people who knew him. Tony had been a crime boss for a significant portion of his life in New Jersey. He had a reputation that sent chills down the backs of people who crossed him.

He didn’t look like a man who made his living on the wrong side of the law. He was tall and husky and drop-dead gorgeous, with black eyes and wavy black hair, cut conventionally short. No beard or mustache. A big nose and big hands and feet. High cheekbones and a piercing stare that could go through people like a sliver of ice.

Not that Odalie wasn’t gorgeous, too. She looked like her mother, Heather Everett, with long light blond hair and blue eyes in a lovely face. Besides that, she had a voice like an angel. She’d studied opera for years now, been in various local artists programs in her native Texas, been overseas to study with master coaches. Now she was living in New York, near the art gallery and museum where Tony made most of his money, studying with a famous local coach while she girded her nerve to apply to the Metropolitan Opera.

She’d never shared her stage fright with her mother, who was a former singer. Her family had sacrificed so much for Odalie already. She told herself that she could overcome it. But several therapists had been unable to help her break through the fear. And one doctor had warned her that the stress of performing daily onstage could eventually cause cardiac issues. It was the dream of her life, to sing at the Met. Or it had been, before Tony stormed on to the scene when Odalie’s brother Tanner was in danger and almost killed for something he’d witnessed overseas.

Tanner’s wife, Anastasia—Stasia in the family—worked for Tony. He’d discovered her phenomenal art skills, had put her through school so that she could work as an art restorer for him, and her paintings, almost lifelike, sold for a fortune in his gallery. Tony called her his adopted daughter. He’d been widowed years ago, his young wife having died of cancer, and he had no children. He looked after Stasia, pampered her and put up with her best friend, Odalie. He did the last thing reluctantly and with obvious bias. He’d barely spoken to Odalie in the past.

But during a visit to Texas, the one they were returning to New York from now, something had happened in the Everetts’ living room, where Tony and Odalie were looking at a delicately beautiful fairy statue created by Odalie’s friend Maddie Lane Brannt. They’d looked at each other in a way that neither of them was comfortable with, and it had caused this sudden and violent silence between them.

Tony had said multiple times that he had only one use for women. Everybody knew he had a mistress in New York, where he had a huge estate on Long Island and a penthouse apartment in Manhattan near his art gallery. He’d also made it very clear that Odalie wasn’t in the running. Too young, he said sarcastically, and too perfect.

It didn’t help. She couldn’t fight the feelings she’d developed for him. Knowing his background, the difference in their ages...nothing helped. He was striking, not only because he was handsome, but because of his manner. He was afraid of nothing on earth, and he never backed down. To a Texas girl, those were admirable traits. She came from a family of men who were comparable, her father, Cole Everett, being the foremost of them. She admired strength and character. Tony might be a hood, but he was elegant and highly principled. He didn’t go after people he didn’t like. Only the ones who harmed people close to him. But once provoked, his anger could be deadly. There were rumors that, like his friend former mob boss Marcus Carrera, he knew how to use a gun and had, in the past.

These days, though, he was gaining a reputation as a highly respected art dealer who never cheated his clients and made sure every piece he sold was thoroughly vetted, so no fakes passed through his hands. Not only that, he made sure that they were acquired legally, not obtained in some back alley by that most dastardly of archaeological bandits, the pothunter. Tony was legitimate. It was how he’d made his fortune.

Now, in addition to his old home in New Jersey, he had a mansion on an estate in the Hamptons and a fabulous penthouse apartment in Manhattan, the envy of many friends. The penthouse housed some of his most famous objets d’art and a housekeeper, Helene Murdock, who kept the place running when Tony was away. He also had men who served as bodyguards. The head of his security force was Big Ben, who’d been with him for years.

Ben, tall and husky like the boss, but a few years younger, sat in the back of the plane playing video games on a Nintendo Switch. He had whole setups in his rooms, both at the mansion in the Hamptons and at the New York apartment. But he had handheld games that he loved. He also had a big gun that rode in a holster under his jacket. Odalie had seen him practicing with it once, at the lake house Tony maintained on Long Island.

The residence was a sprawling yellow two-story house with a four-car garage, ten thousand square feet of floor space on an equestrian-zoned property, close to an airport and farmland, and only sixty miles from Manhattan. Perfect for a man who loved the ocean, which was close by, and horseback riding. There was a stable near the mansion where Tony could rent horses for guests. The home had several bedrooms with full baths, a swimming pool, a tennis court, and every amenity known to man. Odalie, who’d grown up on a similar property in Texas, felt quite at home there when she went to parties on the property with Stasia. She didn’t want to. Tony made his disinterest so plain that she felt guilty just being there.

He also had a fabulous apartment in a high-rise in Manhattan, close to where his art gallery and museum were located. He threw cocktail parties at the apartment and the gallery, hosting important events with some of the most famous names in Hollywood and sports, as well as people from New Jersey whom he’d done business with and old pals who seemed a bit twitchy in the rarefied company.

Odalie liked the New Jersey bunch best. She was used to being around cowboys, who would have been equally uncomfortable with the jet set, but Tony was careful to keep her away from anyone from his hometown of Trenton. She’d never understood why. Stasia said that was just Tony. But his hostility to Odalie had convinced her that it was very personal. He didn’t want her near his old friends. What little she learned about them, she liked, but she was never allowed close enough to gossip with any of them.

Her oldest brother, Tanner, had recently been targeted by Phillip James, a former colleague, now head of a supersecret agency in the government. Tanner had witnessed a massacre of civilians, which James had been responsible for. Tanner had been the target of an assassination attempt by James to keep him from telling what he knew. However, the attempt had failed, and Tanner had disclosed what he knew of the massacre. He was waiting, and hoping, for a congressional hearing on the matter.

But there was one fly in the soup. There was a rumor that Phillip James had a powerful senator in his corner, one who could—and possibly would—stonewall the investigation. James also had influence on the Hill, and he could use it. If he did, if he managed to weasel out from under the charges somehow, it would put Tanner right back on the firing line. Odalie loved her older brother. He’d been alienated from the family for years because of his harsh treatment of Stasia, to whom he’d been married. Their relationship had recently been patched up and they’d remarried, to the delight of the family, who loved Stasia. She was Odalie’s best friend, next to Maddie Brannt, who made the beautiful little fairy statues, one of which Tony had commissioned for his gallery.

That had been another difficult and broken relationship, Odalie’s with Maddie. When they were in high school, Odalie had victimized the other girl and almost got her killed. It had resulted in charges and probation, but Odalie had managed to come through it almost unscathed. She’d persuaded Cort Brannt, who’d once been infatuated with her, to let her drive his Jaguar. In the process, she’d accidentally run over Maddie. Her recovery had been long and hard, and being needed by another human being had turned Odalie’s life around. She’d taken charge of Maddie, called in specialists, paid all her medical bills. And in the process, they’d become friends. In fact, Maddie was the first real friend, except for Stasia, that Odalie had ever had. Odalie had conspired with Cort to find a buyer for Maddie’s gorgeous little fairies, and now the other woman had a lucrative profession. She and Cort were very happy together and, in fact, expecting their first child. Odalie had already been asked to be the godmother, and that was a true honor.

“We’re landing,” Tony announced, barely glancing at her. “Ben and I will drop you off at your apartment on the way home.”

“Oh, I could get a cab,” she said at once and then flushed, because it sounded ungrateful.

He gave her a long, measuring look. “It’s not out of our way. But suit yourself,” he added in a biting tone.

She swallowed. Hard. He was intimidating with that level stare. “Then, if you don’t mind...”

He just shrugged and averted his gaze back to his phone.

They stopped at the curb and Ben carried Odalie’s suitcase to her apartment on the quiet street with trees and a nearby coffeehouse. It was like living outside the city, but in the city, in an updated one-story house with all modern conveniences. It was even pretty on the outside, with wrought iron banisters and a stone front, with long windows behind which elegant lacy white curtains fell to give their owner some privacy.

“Thanks, Ben,” she said, smiling up at him.

“No problem. Listen,” he added gently, “the boss has moods. Always has had. Don’t let it upset you. He’s got some little problems lately. Nothing big. But it makes him broody. It’s not you or anything you done. Okay?”

The smile grew bigger. “Thanks,” she said huskily. “It just seems like sometimes he hates me, you know?”

“A lot of people think that,” he chuckled. “That stare. One guy said Tony could kill you with his eyes. I know just what he meant!”

“Me, too,” she laughed. “Thanks again for bringing my bag. It gets heavy.”

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