Cooper's Fall (13 page)

He moved to the table, and hit the electronic code to unlock and unbar the door. He stood back, lifting his weapon to his shoulder, bracing it, his finger caressing the trigger.

“Jake?”

“Yeah, Coop?”

“You go back to the bar. If these boys are so nice and friendly, they don’t need you anymore, do they?”

Cooper glanced at the monitors and watched as Jake rolled his shoulders.

Jake stood in front of the other three at the landing of the stairs.

“Come on, Cooper,” Jake’s voice was irritated now. A sure sign he believed whatever crap these yahoos were giving him.

“Bring ’em on in, Jake,” Cooper drawled, watching as Turk and Iron got ready.

The door swung open slowly and Jake moved in, ahead of the others. Hands held carefully to their sides, the other three men moved in behind him.

Government. The two in the front were feds, and when Cooper glimpsed the one in the back, he knew who he was dealing with. Giovanni Federico.

“Sarita.” Federico pulled off the ball cap, his eyes on Sair as she stood still and silent in the entrance to the escape stairs.

He didn’t look as old as Cooper knew he was. Giovanni Federico was fifty years old, but looked ten years younger. His black hair had only a sprinkling of white at the temples. His eyes were like Sair’s, a pale blue, his skin swarthy, and he was staring at his daughter the way another man might stare at an angel.

Sarah had to fight the need to run to him. Gio the Giant, he was called. He was her pa-pa. At least, he had been, until she had learned what he was, who he was. Until she had learned he had been just as brutal, as cruel as the men who had kidnapped her.

As Ethan lowered his gun, she moved hesitantly from Casey. Skirting around the crowd now in the front part of the room, she moved slowly to Ethan. She couldn’t explain the reasons why, couldn’t explain why she needed to hold on to him, but the need was overwhelming. She felt as though the floor were rocking beneath her, as though the world was spinning.

When his arm slid around her and he pulled her close to his side, it felt right. And as she stared back at Gio the Giant, she fought to find in him the man who had rocked her to sleep as a child, who had sung funny songs to her, who taught her to dance and how to play hopscotch.

“Sarita.” His face contorted painfully as the arms he had lifted out to her fell to his sides. “I have searched for you since you left Dallas. Two years I looked, after your cousin and aunt learned of Martin’s death. To bring you home.”

“I am home.” She held on to Ethan as though he were a lifeline.

She felt as though her heart were breaking in two. How she had loved her tall, strong pa-pa. Loved him so much that the news of his death, despite her anger at him, had nearly broken her. And now, to learn that that too, was a lie . . .

He breathed in roughly, shoved his hands into the pockets of his
slacks in a move that was so very characteristic of him. He stared back at her, his face more lined than it had been, his eyes shadowed.

“Your brother, he is in California searching for you. He thought perhaps you had returned there.”

She shook her head. She didn’t want to hear about her brother, either. Beauregard, named for an American friend, was his father’s son. Not the brother she had imagined him to be.

“Go away,” she whispered, feeling Ethan’s arms tighten around her.

“Sair,” Ethan whispered against her hair. “Let’s see what he wants.”

She shook her head and cried. “He wants forgiveness. Atonement. Isn’t that right, Gio?” She blinked back her tears at the pain that filled his face. “It’s the same thing Beau wants as well.”

“I want to know my little Sarita, my angel, is safe and happy,” Gio said heavily. “Forgiveness or atonement is not what I seek.”

“You knew before you came here.” She could feel the pain ripping at her, digging merciless claws into her chest. “You checked me out and you followed me, and you sent Beau to California. Why? Shall I tell you why?”

“Sarita,” he whispered as a man stricken with grief would have whispered.

“Why, Gio?” She clenched her fists and faced him, years of anger and pain exploding inside her, cascading through her like an avalanche of sorrow and fury. “You sent Beau to California so he wouldn’t kill? So he wouldn’t do as he swore when I was sixteen and kill any man who dared touch me? Well, I’m no longer sixteen. And I’m no longer Sarita.”

“You’re still my daughter,” he said softly. “The child my heart beats for.”

She wanted to sneer, but it hurt. It hurt so bad.

“You killed,” she whispered. “Drugs, rape, murder. Ah God.” She wiped her face with her hands, shaking, shuddering with the horror of the information she had learned once her father had been arrested. “You, Uncle Martin, Beau, all of you. You were criminals. What Marco did to me when he kidnapped me was gentle compared to your crimes.”

“I never harmed a child,” Gio bellowed then, his hands pulling from his slacks, raking through his hair. “I never harmed an innocent, nor did I or Beau rape anyone. There were rules. Marco broke those rules when he took you.”

“You should have never lied to me,” she yelled back furiously. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were a murdering mafia lord and that was the reason I wasn’t allowed beyond the walls of our estate? My God in heaven, perhaps then I would have understood why they hurt me.”

Gio seemed to shudder. Her pa-pa. She saw her pa-pa in this man, no matter how hard she tried not to.

“Beau was not part of that business,” he finally said heavily. “It was the reason he was gone so often—he could not stomach the path I could not veer from.” He shook his head slowly. “When they took you, I died inside.”

“They had me six weeks,” she sneered. “Six cuts, Gio. Do you remember them?”

“God, Sarita! I see them every night in my nightmares.”

She was only barely aware of Ethan motioning the others out of the room. Even her father’s bodyguards left silently, closing the door behind them, leaving her alone with Gio and Ethan.

“Beau was working to legitimize our holdings,” he breathed out roughly. “For him, I had agreed to turn the business over to your uncle Lucian. We were negotiating this with Lucian the night
you were taken.” He shook his head wearily. “I do not excuse myself, Sarita. Not what I have done, or for what I have been. But you were always my light. My precious child. More to me even than my son. And you know this.”

She had been the spoiled princess. The baby. She had been loved by her father, by her brother. Cherished after the death of her mother.

“My name is Sarah,” she whispered.

She didn’t know what to say, how to feel. She only knew that if Ethan let go of her, she would sink to the floor in pain.

“This one, he calls you ‘Sair’?” Her pa-pa nodded to Ethan behind her.

She narrowed her eyes. “Only Ethan calls me ‘Sair.’”

“Ah. And only you call him ‘Ethan,’ when all others call him ‘Cooper.’” He nodded. “Yes. It is the way of love, eh?”

She stared back at him silently as he moved and sat down in one of the large chairs that sat close to the wall.

He leaned forward, his tall, broad body almost too large, even for Ethan’s furniture. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands were clasped between them as he regarded her.

“Sarah,” he sighed her name. “I make no excuses for what I was. And I take full blame for how Marco terrorized you.” He shook his head, and when his eyes lifted, she saw the tears in them. “For you, I would have died. Beau searched for you, and I feared he would die in the attempt to rescue you. He was enraged. So I went to the authorities. And,”—he spread his hands—“I let you go. You were the only bit of innocence in my life. My sweetest daughter. And I thought I could let you fly as I knew you should, away from the ugliness of who and what I was.” His expression turned fierce. “But I cannot.” He rose to his feet, paced, and turned back to her. “You are my child. My daughter. You will give this man children. Blood of
my blood.” He thumped his chest, crossed his arms over it. “Fight me all you wish. I will move to this town if I must. I will be where you are. I will tell all, you are my daughter, who I love, who I treasure. I will not let you go as you wish.” He glared at Ethan, then at her. “And my name is not Gio. My name is Ronald.” He lifted his head proudly. “For my great-grandfather. Who was pure. Who was not part of that life you so abhor. I am Ronald Caspari. An immigrant.” His voice lowered. “A father.”

She stared back at him in shock.

“And you think it’s so easy? That I can just forgive?”

He shook his head, his glance moving once again to where Ethan’s arms were wrapped around her.

“Not easy,” he said softly. “But I hope, perhaps in time, you can find it in yourself to remember the man who loved his Sarita. His precious angel.”

That first tear slipped free. Her pa-pa never cried. He was fierce, and he was strong.

“Don’t.” She shook her head, feeling her eyes well with tears as well. Because she remembered her pa-pa. She remembered, and oh God, how she had missed him.

“Ronald Caspari hasn’t committed any crimes, Sair,” Ethan whispered.

“Don’t excuse him,” she cried out.

“I’m not excusing him, baby.” He rubbed his chin against her head. “You’re allowed the choice, Sair. It’s not either-or. And hell, I’m not exactly a saint. We both know that.”

“He killed.”

“I protected what was perhaps not rightfully, but all the same, mine,” her father breathed out roughly. “But unlike Carlos and others, Sarita, I never warred on innocents. I never kidnapped a woman or a child and brought it pain. Neither did I approve such
an action. Never could I have. You were my guide, child.” He shook his head. “From the day of your birth, you were my guide. Your sweetness and light ensured no child was harmed by my hand.”

“Giovanni Federico was known as Gio the Giant. The Gentle Giant,” Ethan reminded her.

“Why are you defending him?”

“Because a daughter’s need for her father never goes away, Sair,” he said. “You’ll never stop grieving for him. And you’ll tear yourself up inside. Better to pick your battles with him, and make sure he walks the path you choose for him from here on out. He’s less of a threat to our peace of mind that way. Besides, someone has to give you away when we get married. I don’t think Casey or Turk would look good in a tux.”

She swung around. Blinked.

“Did you think I’d let you get away from me?” His smile was pure male confidence and a hint of wickedness. After all, her father was standing there.

“You didn’t ask me to marry you,” she pouted. “Maybe I wanted all the trimmings?”

He snorted. “Naw. You didn’t. Or you wouldn’t have picked the shadiest character in town to trip with that sneaky heart of yours. I’ve fallen, Sair. Right at your feet. I’m not asking for marriage, I’m damn well demanding it.” He touched her cheek, cupped it with his palm. “And your father isn’t asking for forgiveness, just a chance.”

She turned back to her pa-pa, watched as he ran his hands over his face and stared back at her bleakly.

Gio the Giant was dead. Ronald Caspari may not be perfect, but she still remembered the love. Her pa-pa holding her, protecting her, laughing with her.

“Pa-pa,” she whispered, shaking, realizing Ethan had slowly let her go.

Her father’s lips trembled. She took a step, and then he was there. Crossing the distance to her, his hard arms wrapped around her, lifted her against him, and the scent and sounds of her childhood washed around her.

The father she had so adored. Could she forget his crimes? She couldn’t forget. But neither could she forget that he had saved her. Given himself and all he possessed to protect her. He wasn’t perfect, but he was still her pa-pa.