She stared at him. He had suddenly turned from brutal frankness to a charisma that was almost mesmerizing. She had only been vaguely aware of him as a man since he had appeared in her life tonight. He had only been a threat and a puzzle and the faint stirring of hope.
Close-cut dark hair, blue eyes beneath slashing dark brows, high cheekbones, and a beautifully shaped sensual mouth. How old? Late twenties? Early thirties? He was dressed in dark jeans and sweatshirt that revealed he was lean but muscular and very strong in spite of his slimness. He had carried her with no problem at all. “Who are you? Not your name, Mandak. Who are you to me?”
“Who am I?” He thought about it. “Your savior? Your teacher? Anything else will have to be worked out between us.”
“Savior?”
“I killed three men for you tonight. Doesn’t that qualify?”
“How did you even know I was in those woods tonight?”
“I’ve been waiting … and watching. I knew it was going to happen soon.”
“What? How?”
“Because it wasn’t reasonable that they’d let you go peacefully. It would have been too dangerous for Camano.” He paused. “I didn’t know that your mother was involved.”
“I don’t want to talk about her,” she said shakily. “She didn’t mean for anyone to hurt me. She loves me.”
“Very well. But I had to know if she’s a threat.”
“Why? Why do you have to know anything? Who the hell are you? How do I know that you won’t try to sell me to Camano? I don’t know you.”
“But I know you. I’ve been watching you for a long time.” He held up his hand as she opened her lips to speak. “I’ll tell you as much as I can. I’ve been keeping an eye on your father and his relationship with you for the last few years after it came to my attention.”
She stiffened. “What came to your attention?”
He only stared at her.
“What?” she said through clenched teeth. “You’re bluffing. You don’t know anything about me. You couldn’t.”
“I know your father discovered what he thought was a treasure trove in you and exploited it for at least two years. I know Camano probably killed him and is wavering between trying to use you the way your father did or killing you to be sure you don’t reveal that he was the one who ordered the kill.” He paused. “Tell me, do you know for certain that it was Camano?”
“How could I?” she asked cautiously. “Even the police weren’t sure that he killed my father.” Her lips twisted. “Not that they cared. They were just glad to get rid of one more gangster. When Camano became Don, they just refocused their attention and forgot about my father.” She had a sudden thought. “Or maybe they didn’t. Are you with the police? Is that how you know so much about me?”
He shook his head. “God, no. But it’s refreshing of you to jump to that connection. At least, you’re not still thinking I’m going to sell you to Camano.”
“I’m not sure that you’re not. You know too much about me.” She defiantly met his eyes. “Or do you? Just what do you know, Mandak?”
“You want it all? I know that you’re the only child of Antonio Casali and his wife, Gina. Casali was pretty much a scumbag and involved in murder, vice, and longshore racketeering. He was so dirty he managed to climb up to head the New Jersey Mafia. Three weeks ago, he was gunned down in the streets in Trenton.” He paused. “You went to the funeral, but then you disappeared from view. I assumed that it was your mother’s doing to get you away from Camano, who had just taken power. Is that right?”
She nodded jerkily. “I thought that it was going to be okay. I prayed that she wouldn’t do it.”
“Do what? Betray you?”
She didn’t answer.
He was studying her face. “Too late,” he said softly. “You’ve already slipped and told me too much. You’re her daughter. Why would she do that to you, Teresa?”
“Why should I tell you?” she asked bitterly. “You believe you know it all. But all that stuff you rattled off doesn’t mean anything. Guesswork. Or you could have read it in the newspaper.”
“Then should I go a step farther? Your parents were far too busy to take care of you. Your father was a mob boss who had ambitions to take over the entire Northeast territory. Your mother liked being married to Casali and acting the queen bee. She had no time to be a mother. You were sent away to boarding school from the time you were six. You didn’t seem to mind. You did extraordinarily well at school. You’re exceptionally bright, and very early on, the teachers found that you had a special talent. You have a photographic memory.”
She stiffened. She didn’t like where this was going. “No big deal. It’s not common, but photographic memory isn’t really that special.”
“Special enough. The school principal advised your parents, and they were curious enough to bring you home and show you off for amusement value. Your mother particularly liked to be the center of attention. The glow didn’t last long, and they sent you back to school about six months later.” He grimaced. “I’d bet you were relieved. You liked your books and your teachers and had no desire to be a star.”
But those months had held their own magic, she wanted to tell him. For the first time, she had felt important to her mother. Her father was always cold and had never paid any attention to her. But her mother had been a beautiful butterfly who fluttered and smiled, and occasionally lingered in Teresa’s world for brief instants. “Are you nuts? I was no star. I told you, a photographic memory isn’t all that rare.”
“But you were relieved to go back to school?”
“Maybe.”
“But it didn’t last long, did it? Two years later, the school expelled you and sent you home. They couldn’t deal with you.” He paused. “Would you like to tell me why?”
Her hands clenched into fists. She couldn’t breathe. He knew.
“Shall I tell you?” he asked softly. “It wasn’t the photographic memory. They could have handled that in a student. But that talent had changed, metamorphosed, in those two years. The teachers and students were regarding you as a freak. They felt insecure and afraid of you.”
Nightmare time. Loneliness. Oh, the aching loneliness. It was all rushing back to her.
“They were idiots. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” he said gently. “But even the teachers weren’t prepared for what you were able to do.”
“I didn’t want to do it. I’d just look at them, and it was there before me.”
“What?”
She didn’t answer.
“What, Teresa?”
“Why are you asking me? I don’t know who told you. But you know, damn you.”
“Tell me.”
“The memories,” she said unevenly. “I could read their memories. Whenever they remembered anything, it was clear as glass to me.”
“You couldn’t read minds but you could read past thoughts, past actions, memories. Intimidating.”
“I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t know what was happening to me. At first I thought I was actually reading their minds. But it was blank for me unless they were remembering something. But one was as bad as the other. No one would believe me. They thought I was lying.” She moistened her lips. “But it was worse when they did begin to believe me.”