Page 5 of Lawbreaker

“She’d have to be without a sense of smell.”

“Good point. Nose plugs?”

“Not likely. He’s been a bachelor for his whole sixty years. I don’t expect him to change anytime soon,” Odalie said.

“Tony’s got an eccentric guy like that,” Stasia said. “Did you know that Big Ben knits?”

“What?!”

“Tony made him quit smoking, and he gets really nervous at night. So he got a book on how to knit and bought yarn and needles. He makes sweaters.”

“I guess it’s not so far-fetched,” Odalie replied. “They say Marcus Carrera makes really good quilts and exhibits.”

“He does. His casino on Paradise Island is called the Bow Tie because it’s his favorite quilting pattern. He’s won awards.”

“So I heard. Amazing, considering what he used to do for a living,” Odalie laughed.

“A lot of people from criminal backgrounds are moving into legitimate businesses. It’s not that they give up who they are. They just adjust to a new way of making money. Carrera runs a casino. Tony deals in statuary and paintings. Not that I think he’s given up any of his territory,” she added. “He has underlings who carry on with the ‘family’ business back in New Jersey. But Tony’s, shall we say, removed from the day-to-day operations.”

“Once a crime boss, always a crime boss,” Odalie said cuttingly.

“Tony’s not your average boss,” Stasia replied gently. “He cares a great deal for the people who work for him, and he treats them all equally. He has a kind heart.”

“Which he keeps carefully tucked away so that nobody can see it. Except maybe you.”

“Oh, so bitter,” Stasia teased. “You need some company to cheer you up. I’ll call you when I get in on Friday.”

“You’ll have to get a cab...” Odalie began apologetically, because she didn’t have a car in New York.

“Big Ben will pick me up and bring me to your place, don’t worry,” Stasia said. “I’ll see you then.”

“Have a good trip,” Odalie replied.

They hung up and she went back to her books on music theory. She hadn’t wanted to go to the Long Island house, but now she was trapped. Well, at least she’d be with Stasia all the time, so maybe Tony wouldn’t go for her throat in company. Maybe.

Tony was still brooding about that exchange of eyes with Odalie at Big Spur. He didn’t want the woman around. He didn’t know why. She was beautiful and talented. But she was too damned young, not street-smart, and she’d never been poor or operated outside the law.

No way in hell was he getting mixed up with a kid like her. She was what, twenty-three, twenty-four? Still years too young for a man of thirty-seven. Worse, she had no idea what his life was really like. He didn’t want her to know. He didn’t know why, either, and that made him mad, too.

He took a deep breath and stared out the window at the city below. It was convenient to live here, but he missed his garden. He’d had one at the house in New Jersey, but when his business interests centered in New York City, he bought this apartment to be close to the art gallery he owned. The house in Jersey had a cousin, an underboss, living in it now, taking care of business. Tony had a garden, still, but it was indoors on Long Island—his housekeeper called it “the jungle,” but with affection. He grew orchids and exotic plants. The room had cushy chairs and grow lights and every comfort. Plus, a person could hide from guests in it. Tony did that, from time to time, when people started getting on his nerves. Most people couldn’t understand why he loved it so. But then, only a gardener would.

His house on Long Island was huge and the grounds were beautiful. He loved it because it reminded him of where he’d grown up in New Jersey. Not the size and luxury, of course. But it felt like home. He’d spent a lot of time on his grandfather’s farm in upstate New York, on the land. He really preferred it to the city, but he couldn’t make money in some small backwater.

He was irritated because Stasia had insisted that he let her bring Odalie to the Long Island place for the weekend. He didn’t want her there. Stasia, sure, she was going to help him convince Tom Bishop to sell him those exquisite old-world paintings. But Odalie? She’d just be in the way. Worse, she’d be inhisway.

He couldn’t take a whole weekend of her. He’d tried to talk Stasia out of it, but when she’d told him that Tanner wouldn’t agree for her to come without Odalie—well, that was it. He needed Stasia. He was no good at persuasion unless he used something that contained bullets. Stasia could do it with words.

Odalie, for a whole weekend. He groaned out loud. How was he going to bear it?!

2

Stasia rang the doorbell at Odalie’s apartment just after breakfast on Friday. Odalie almost ran to open it, then laughed as they hugged.

“Thanks for bringing her, Ben,” Odalie told him warmly.

“No sweat. I’ll be back to pick you up about three. Boss doesn’t like traffic snarls, so he leaves early when we go up to the house,” Ben explained to her.

“He hates traffic,” Stasia agreed. “But then, so do I. Thanks, Ben.”

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