It had to be Constantine’s sister Gina. Who else would have been told, apart from her? No one. And for years she had kept the secret, respected its gravity. Until now. Why now? What could have happened to make her betray the family and give out such information to strangers?
She didn’t know. Couldn’t believe it had happened.
Gina was sound, an insider, family.
Dislike her though she did, Annie had to admit that Gina was the last person she would have expected this from.
She reached out, turned off the light.
72
She didn’t know what woke her; some suggestion of movement, some slight noise. Her eyes opened and it was still dark, but the blue-toned moonlight was visible through the curtains, casting a ghostly shaft of light on to the floor at the foot of the bed.
She turned over, sat up. Wished she’d thought to bring a glass of water in here with her, but she’d forgotten. Her brain was scrambled, she was miserable and her midriff ached with every breath she took. Sleep had been blissful, and she hadn’t wanted to wake up. The way she felt, she hadn’t wanted to wake up ever.
But she had, in the middle of the night, because…
Because someone was in here with her.
Her senses were instantly alert. The floorboards creaked in this room, and that was what she’d heard, she was sure of it.
Someone’s killed Dolly and now they’re coming for me.
She took a gasping breath in and flicked on the bedside light. No, no, it was just my imagination, it was nothing, it was…
There was a man sitting in the chair in the corner of the room.
‘Holy shit!’ Annie yelled, floundering back against the pillows. Her bruised and bandaged mid-section cried out a protest and she clutched at it, wincing; it hurt so much that tears sprang into her eyes.
She blinked, stared; it was Max.
‘What the fuck…?’ she demanded.
‘Did you forget I had a key?’ he said. ‘And you didn’t set the alarm, that was careless.’
Yes, she had forgotten he had a key. And the alarm? Yes, that was careless, but then she was in shock over Dolly’s death, and Max’s discovery of her sins, and she was shattered and hurt, and she wasn’t going to tell him a damned thing about any of that.
Annie hauled the sheets up to her chin and stared at him. ‘What, have you come to give me another bollocking?’ she challenged.
‘I might do. You bloody well deserve one.’
‘I would have tried to explain the other day if you could have been fucking bothered to let me. But no – it was more important to you to show what a big man you are in front of your boys.’ Annie sneered. ‘Lacking your bleeding audience now, aren’t you? Haven’t got the boys outside the door listening in this time. Bet that gave you a thrill, playing the big I-am, putting the little woman in order. Give you a hard-on, did it?’
‘You really do push your luck,’ he said.
‘I’m all out of luck. Haven’t you heard? My husband wants to divorce me, my best mate’s taken a bullet in the head, and everyone’s acting like I should be ringing a bell and shouting “unclean”.’
‘Maybe you should.’
‘Yeah, maybe. But I’m your wife and you owe me.’
‘What? I owe you fuck-all. You’ve been creeping around behind my back screwing that flash Yankee arsehole…’
‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘No. Look. I had to keep the secret. I had to honour the code.’
‘Bollocks. Maybe now – without an audience – you might just explain to me what the fuck’s been going on?’
Annie frowned and sighed. ‘Me and Constantine.’
‘No, you and the Pope. Yes, I mean you and Constantine, or is there any other cunt I should know about as well?’
‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’
Max came and stood beside the bed and stared down at her. He moved quickly, stealthy as a cat. But he’d forgotten the floorboards, she reminded herself. He ought to have remembered that.
‘Try starting at the beginning,’ he said.
‘I don’t even know where that is any more.’
‘Let’s think about it.’ He put his hands on his hips and considered. ‘Oh yeah. How about when he was supposed to have died, and didn’t? That seems like a good place.’
‘I didn’t know about that until Alberto told me,’ said Annie. ‘I thought he was dead. I really did. Until then.’
Max cocked his head to one side. ‘Is that another fucking barefaced lie?’
‘It’s true. Constantine swore him to secrecy until then.’
‘And then suddenly he decides to tell you. You sure you didn’t know all along?’
‘You’re joking. I didn’t know anything. I thought he’d died. Damn it, I saw it happen. At first I couldn’t believe it. But then Alberto said that he’d had to do it. That they’d put in a double, an actor, to pretend to be Constantine because there had been rumours of a hit coming.’
Max was silent for a long while, watching her face. ‘All that time, I thought you and Alberto. I thought it was him you were sneaking off to see on your “business trips”. I was sure there was something going on. And you know what? Turns out I was right. Only it wasn’t the son you were seeing, was it? It was the father. You cow.’
‘No.’ Annie gulped. ‘Look. You don’t know the real story.’
‘All right, so tell me. And you’d better bloody make it good. What happened after Alberto broke the news? And when did he break the news?’
‘Five years ago.’
Max was staring at her as if he didn’t even know her. ‘Five fucking years?’
‘Max-’
‘Five years, and you didn’t tell me a thing?’
‘I couldn’t.’
Max’s face was set with fury. ‘All right. Go on. Then what?’
‘Then?’ Annie sighed tiredly. ‘He told me Constantine wanted to see me.’
73
‘You’ve been lying to me, straight-faced, for years,’ said Max, shaking his head in wonder.
‘Lying? No. That’s bullshit. I just didn’t tell you, that’s all.’
‘Oh yeah. The Mafia “code”. Your fucking “omerta”.’
‘That’s right.’
‘What a shitload of bollocks. You didn’t tell me you were seeing him. You fucking well deceived me. How the hell can you say you didn’t? You bloody did.’
‘I had to. The code-’
‘Fuck the code. And fuck you.’ Max dragged his hands through his hair then rubbed them over his face. He walked over to the wall, turned, walked back to the bed and stopped there, staring down at her.
‘And what the hell happened then?’ he asked. ‘Supposing I believe a damned word of it, that is. You heard the tale about that concubine who kept spinning tales for the Sultan to stop him cutting her head off?’
‘The Arabian Nights,’ said Annie, and shot a sour smile at him, even though her heart was hammering with dread. ‘Damn, you mean you’ve actually read a book in your life? News to me.’
Constantine had devoured books. Max? She had never seen him pick up a book of any description, not once. Two such different men she had fallen in love with. Max so fiery, and Constantine so controlling.
‘Is that what you’re doing? Spinning tales to save your neck?’ asked Max.
‘Do I have to?’
Max paced around the room, hands in trouser pockets, eyeing up the rugs, the four-poster bed, the big carved-oak dressing table. Then he stopped and looked at her sitting there in the bed, grey with exhaustion, big shadows under her eyes.