Mob Mistress. Sheri WhiteFeather
go.”
Justin followed Leo out of the suite and into the mansion, where the architecture made an affluent statement. When they came to a sweeping staircase, Leo started his descent. Lester rode with his chin propped on the security chief’s shoulder.
The puppy gazed at Justin and barked excitedly, as if they were on a grand adventure. Leo didn’t falter. He simply patted the dog to quiet him.
When they reached a black-and-white tiled foyer, the other man finally stopped and turned. “This way,” he said, indicating a gentleman’s parlor.
Sturdy sofas and wing-back chairs governed the room, with chestnut tables and built-in bookcases.
Justin glanced around, looking for familiar faces. But the parlor was empty. “Where’s my family?”
“They’ll be here.” Leo put Lester down, and the puppy scampered around. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
“I prefer to stand.”
“Suit yourself.” Leo stood, too. He took an unassuming spot by a window where burgundy drapes, loaded with tassels and trim, were open, displaying a cluster of palm trees and a rolling-green lawn. As he adjusted his jacket, he flashed the holstered gun clipped to his belt.
Justin gave him a hard look. He wanted to jam his fist down the security chief’s throat. And he would, when all of this was over, when he knew his family was safe.
A uniformed maid wheeled a serving cart into the office, and Leo snapped at her. “You’re intruding on a private meeting.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” she responded in a respectful tone. “But the chef sent me. Mr. B. requested some hors d’oeuvres.”
Leo waved his hand, allowing her to proceed.
Justin assumed that Mr. B. was Brian Halloway, the boss. Referring to him as Mr. Halloway was probably confusing since there was more than one Mr. Halloway at the mansion. The angel had mentioned Richard Halloway, too.
The dog, curled up in the corner, perked his ears as the maid pushed the cart farther into the room.
Justin took a closer look at her, and when he did, his pulse jammed his throat.
Her hair, dark and rich, was coiled into a tidy bun, exposing the stunning angles of her face. Her bronze-toned skin appeared soft and touchable, and the greenish-gold color of her eyes enhanced what Justin called ethnic ambiguity. He had a similar look. People were never quite sure of his heritage.
She was what he imagined his angel to be. Sleek, sexy, exotic. But she was cautious and proper, too.
She moved around the room without disturbing him.
He wanted to catch her gaze, to force her to look at him, but she focused on her task, arranging the appetizers just so.
Was she the mystery lady who’d come to his room? Or was he grasping at straws? Wrongly evaluating the first woman he saw? Maybe if he heard her speak again. Maybe her voice…
“What’s your name?” he asked her.
She took an audible breath, and Leo frowned.
“If you’re itching for female companionship, we can get you a woman,” the security chief told Justin, not allowing the maid to answer.
Damn it. Justin cursed his mistake. He hadn’t meant to be so obvious, so openly attracted to her. “I’m not itching for anything, I just want to know her name.”
Leo gestured for her to respond.
“It’s Maya,” she said, keeping her eyes downcast and fussing with a silver coffee service. “Maya Reyes.”
Her voice didn’t trigger familiarity. But he couldn’t ask her to whisper, to talk in a softer tone, to mimic his angel. “That’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you.” She finished her work and left the parlor without meeting his gaze.
“She’s supposed to know her place,” Leo said. “All of our employees are.”
Irritated, Justin glared at the Hulk. “What’s taking this meeting so long to happen?”
Leo shrugged.
But several minutes later he announced that Brian Halloway had just entered the room. Tall and trim with graying blond hair, Brian carried himself like a corporate billionaire, exhibiting a commanding sense of style.
He extended his hand, but Justin refused to shake it, spurning him the way he’d spurned Leo.
“What’s wrong?” Brian asked, a humorous glint in his eye. “Were you expecting Tony Soprano?”
Justin remained silent. He knew the West Coast Family wasn’t an Italian outfit. They were equal-opportunity criminals.
“My brother asked me to apologize for his absence. Richard intended to be here, but he got called away on a business trip.” Brian remained standing. “He’s looking forward to meeting you.”
Justin snapped back. “I don’t care about your brother. And I don’t give a damn about you. I want to see my parents. And my sister, if she’s here.”
Brian made a perplexed expression. “I don’t understand.”
“Your security chief said my family was anxious to see me.”
“Your family, yes. Your parents and sister, no. Leo misled you.” Brian frowned at the Hulk, but the big man kept his cool. He didn’t even blink.
The boss returned his attention to Justin, playing the ultimate host. “Can I get you something? Crab canapés? Garlic and cheese bruschetta? Liver paté? You must be starving by now. This should hold you over until dinner.”
Screw the food. Justin didn’t care if he hadn’t eaten in two days. “I want to know what the hell is going on.”
“Then I’ll tell you, straight from the hip. I’m your family. Me, my brother.” The mobster held his gaze. “You’re not Justin Elk.” He paused for effect. “You’re Justin Halloway.”
Chapter 2
Justin glared at the other man. “What kind of game are you playing?”
“No game. Your mother was my sister, Beverly. She died without telling us that she’d had a child.”
His gut tightened, tying itself into ropey knots. “This has to be a mistake.”
“It’s the truth. I’ve got the DNA test to prove it. We swabbed you while you were sedated.” Brian reached into his jacket pocket and removed a sealed envelope. “You’re welcome to review the results.”
Justin took the envelope, but he didn’t open it. He wouldn’t give Brian the satisfaction. “If Beverly’s my mother, then who’s my father?”
The boss made a distasteful face. “Reed Blackwood.”
The man he’d been told was his uncle? He glanced at Leo. Reed was the once-upon-a-time friend the security chief had mentioned. “My parents wouldn’t have lied to me. They wouldn’t have let me think that I was their son.”
“But they did, Justin. Look at the report.”
“This could be a forgery.”
“You’re right. It could be, but it isn’t.” The mobster poured a cup of coffee and took a sip. “Being a Halloway is your legacy, your birthright. Whether you like it or not.”
“You drugged me. You kidnapped me.” Justin all but snarled. “What kind of legacy, what kind of birthright is that?”
“We got your attention, didn’t we? And no matter how much you try to deny it, we added some excitement to your life.” Brian had the gall to smile. “We know you were restless. That your daily routine was getting mundane. Besides, if