Page 97 of Lawbreaker

“Oh, thank God!” Odalie whispered.

“Yes!” Stasia said.

“Boss!” Ben called as the three of them surged toward him.

Tony looked at them and then at Odalie with horror on his face. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded. “You’re debuting at the Met tonight! Mauve and I were on the way there when someone started shooting near the subway entrance. He shot two of us before the police tackled him.”

“It wasn’t an attempted hit?” Ben asked under his breath.

“Not tonight,” Tony replied. “What are you two doing here?” he asked again.

Stasia grimaced. “We thought you were killed,” she groaned, and hugged him.

“Not hardly,” he replied. He glared at Odalie. “You get right back over to Lincoln Center and get on the stage!”

Before Odalie could even speak, Mauve came out of the restroom, drawing her mink coat close. “Why do they keep it so cold in here? Oh, hello, how’s your peeping tom?” she asked Odalie.

“No problems,” Odalie managed to say with a wan smile.

“Peeping tom?” Stasia asked.

“It’s a long story,” Tony said. “Get going! You’ll miss the curtain!”

“Yes, we...we should go,” Odalie said, all at sea.

“We’re glad you’re okay,” Stasia said.

“Yeah, boss, we was worried,” Ben chuckled. “I’ll get them back to the theater. Eddie will drive you two home,” he added, motioning to a big, husky guy hanging around the waiting room. “I’ll see you later.”

Odalie didn’t look back or she’d have noticed the expression on Tony’s face. Odalie had spent her life training for her big debut at the Met, but she’d thrown it up to rush over here because she thought he was hurt. And he was hurt, that he’d treated her so badly, even if it was for her own good. He wanted her to succeed. He didn’t want to be the reason that she lost her chance at a golden career.

But that look on her face, that stark terror that he was wounded...he’d never forget it as long as he lived. It would humble him until he was an old man. Her career had been life itself to her. But it was obvious that Tony was more. His eyes closed on a silent groan of agony. She loved him. She truly loved him.

He was never going to forgive himself for hurting her so badly by turning to Mauve. Yes, it was for her own good. He wanted her to have what she’d spent her life studying for. He wanted her to sing at the Met.

But for himself? He’d have given anything in the world to have her walking beside him on lazy afternoons at the park, in his arms in the darkness loving him, laughing at his stories of the old days back home. He would have the memories at least. Sure. Cold comfort. Very cold.

“Well, at least you only had a flesh wound,” Mauve said on a sigh, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Are we going on to the Met?”

“I’d rather go home,” he said heavily.

“I guess so,” she replied. She looked up at him and recognized the pain, the acceptance of loss, the anguish of what he felt for that pretty young blonde woman. She smiled sadly. He was a good man. She hoped he could compete with the Met and win. After all, she had other prospects. “Well, Tony, we had a good run, didn’t we?”

He stared at her blankly.

“Are you really that ignorant?” she teased. “She threw up her debut at the Met because she was afraid for you.”

His heart jumped. He hadn’t really thought of it in words just yet. He drew in a breath. “Yeah.”

“She’s really pretty.”

“She’s pretty. She’s also worked her whole life to go on the stage and sing opera. She’s going to be a star,” he replied quietly. “She has the voice of an angel.”

“Is that what she wants, or what you want for her?” she asked gently.

He paused as they got to the street, and he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He wasn’t enumerating his faults and shortcomings, but he was aware of every one of them. He had nothing to offer her. He was going to let her go. He cared too much to sacrifice her happiness for his own.

“Let’s go,” he said curtly, and motioned for his bodyguard to get them into the stretch limo pulling up at the curb, with one of his men driving it.