When Truth Takes Flight Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Sandra McGregor

  When Truth Takes Flight

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  An orange scooted along the sidewalk,

  bouncing slightly as it tripped over a crack to roll to a stop against his shoe. He glanced down, then refocused on the slender girl wearing a flowered dress and low-heeled shoes as she slowly straightened, a tomato in each hand. Dry spaghetti noodles still lay scattered on the sidewalk. Furrowed brows scrunched over stormy eyes told how she felt about the ripped bag and her food landing on the cement.

  Aching muscles from cramped airplane seating were forgotten as he watched dark hair swing forward to shield her face when she squatted again to corral more vegetables. Without taking time to analyze the increased thumping inside his chest, he set down his luggage and reached for the orange before closing the distance between them. Not waiting for permission to help, he knelt on one knee and began to gather the sticks of dried pasta. She rose and took a step back, drawing his gaze up to meet hers.

  Un colpo di Fulmine.

  As the thought struck, actual words stuck in a suddenly-dry throat. He swallowed once, then again. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly rose, holding the spaghetti in one hand like a bunch of flowers. Now what?

  Something about the whole scene drew out a soft chuckle. “Um, sorry.” He leaned to pick up the ripped bag and wrapped it around the noodles then glanced toward the boardinghouse before reconnecting with her gaze. “I’m here to see Hannah Montgomery.”

  Her smile gradually appeared and eventually reached her eyes. “I’m Hannah.”

  Praise for Sandra McGregor

  “Cinderella meets Pearl Harbor! Loved this story [EMMA ROSE] and the amazing feelings Emma and Thomas brought out in me. The connection between the characters was perfect. I was rooting for these two the whole story! I would recommend to everyone who loves an amazing love story that has the power to move you like a Nicolas Sparks book.”

  ~By melissa777 (5 Stars)

  When Truth

  Takes Flight

  by

  Sandra McGregor

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  When Truth Takes Flight

  COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Sandra Elzie

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Vintage Rose Edition, 2017

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1866-0

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1867-7

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  Thanks to my editor, Stacy D. Holmes.

  You make my stories better.

  ~*~

  Also, to my Lake Sisters

  (you know who you are).

  I appreciate your encouragement, input,

  and most of all, your friendship.

  Chapter One

  New York City looked different after ten years. More cars, more people, more filth. Nothing new about that. With the Great War fading into history and the country rebounding slowly from depression, John Staples knew times were changing for the better. Especially for him. With college in his rear-view mirror, the next step was to secure a job, but first, he needed to take care of an obligation.

  While the cab driver tossed his small case on the front seat of the red and yellow Skyline and then trotted around to slide in behind the steering wheel, John climbed into the backseat and sat at a slight angle to allow his long legs an extra couple inches. The mid-day sun beat down on the car’s roof, intensifying the pungent odor of stale cigars and sweat. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of prior passengers, while sweat beaded on his forehead, trickled down the sides of his face, and plastered the starched white shirt to his body. It brought back recent memories of the sauna in the men’s locker room at college.

  After a relatively mild May, June had arrived with sweltering temperatures that now blistered the Eastern seaboard. The city was melting, leaving everyone limp and listless. At least his home state of Alabama had been blessed with an ocean breeze off the Gulf for the past several days. He’d left that cool reprieve in Mobile when he boarded the plane headed north.

  With hardly a forethought, he reached up and loosened his tie, then hesitated, mentally fighting the urge to remove the noose and suit jacket. No. He needed to be prepared for whatever waited for him at the hotel. His lips quirked up to one side as he pondered the thought of a suit and tie being armor against someone like Vince.

  “Where to, buddy?” The driver slammed the car door and glanced in the rear-view mirror, talking around a wad of gum he continued to maul while he waited.

  He guessed the man was easily twice his age—old enough to be his father and probably old enough to have seen action in the war. “The Ritz.”

  With a quick nod, the driver fired up the engine, cranked the large steering wheel to the left, and with the barest glance over his shoulder, stomped on the gas pedal to send the car darting into the flow of traffic. John tensed, his right foot slamming down on the floor as if his effort could keep them out of harm’s way. Horns blared, but the cab managed to slip between another bright yellow taxi and a passenger car without incident.

  “Crazy drivers,” the string-thin man mumbled, his flashed grin prominently displaying teeth tarnished from years of smoking. “They all think they own the road.”

  John nodded without comment, leaving the man to shrug bony shoulders and focus on the road. He slowly relaxed his foot, and his heartbeat gradually returned to normal while he pictured the ’34 coupe being reduced to scrap metal. The deep sigh was silent, but blown upward to ruffle the hair that drooped across his sweat-drenched forehead. The hot air blowing through the open window added exhaust fumes and only circulated the heat.

  More uncomfortable than he’d been in some time, he lifted a hand to remove the offending tie, but hesitated again. Instead, he leaned to the side, reached into a back pocket, and retrieved the handkerchief to wipe his face. It might be early June, but the oppressive heat squeezed his lungs while he labored to suck in the exhaust-filled air held at street level by towering brick buildings that lined the streets like prison walls.

  To his right, a car horn blasted, drowning out the words that accompanied the hand gestures. He’d never understand the hurry—the constant jostling to advance a few inches in the overwhelming congestion.

  H
e cringed slightly as the cab narrowly missed a young man on a bicycle. Horns blared, but the rider escaped. The traffic slowed and became more congested, sure signs they’d soon be in the center of the city—and arriving at the meeting he’d been anticipating, yet dreading, for longer than he cared to think about.

  Vince Giovanni.

  The name conjured up memories of the only man to ever take time to play catch with him—the man whose picture had made the front page of the Times on numerous occasions. John wasn’t sure what to expect, but if the letter of congratulation for graduating college with an engineering degree was any indication, the meeting would be friendly. Actually, he figured there was little reason for Vince to hold the past against him, but, according to his mother, there was every reason for the older man to summon him to New York under the pretense of celebrating. Of course, if his mother’s warnings were accurate, it might prove to be a very long and uncomfortable afternoon.

  This time, his sigh sounded like a soft groan and drew the cabby’s attention.

  “Long trip?”

  “Just a few hours.”

  “First time in New York?”

  This wasn’t the time for small talk, nor was he in the mood. There was too much on his mind.

  “It’s been a while,” he muttered, allowing his head to relax back against the seat and his eyelids to close. When no further questions were forthcoming, he dismissed the driver, assuming the man would deliver him safely to the Ritz-Carlton, leaving him time to replay the earlier conversation with his mother…

  Her words had stabbed—harsh and gritty with emotion while her tear-filled eyes blazed.

  “Don’t be naïve. Once Vince gets you up there, he’ll move heaven and earth to keep you there. He’ll promise you the moon—and a few stars for good measure,” she added, making a motion with her hand to imitate something rolling on and on. “You’ll think you’ve grabbed the brass ring, but it won’t take you long to realize what you really have is a ring in your nose, and you’re being fed crumbs while he spends his time and energy on his…his job.”

  John had felt the full gale force of his mother’s tirade. Red-haired people were known for their tempers and, at that moment, she fit the stereotype. He’d held off as long as possible before telling her about the invitation to fly to New York, knowing she would lose her temper at the very mention of his stepfather’s name. He’d also known there would be hell to pay when he told her his decision to accept the invitation.

  “Mother, he paid for my college. He just wants to celebrate with me—dinner, maybe a stage show. That’s it. Why are you so upset? You’re acting like I’m going up there to join his organization or something.” His chuckle only made her glare harden. Like a statue cut from stone, her face had been cold and unyielding.

  Hands jammed on slightly-widened hips, she’d narrowed her gaze, pinning him where he stood. His mother being angry as a wet hen was nothing new, but something had been different about this confrontation. The subject of her former husband historically caused irritation, but not the level of desperation that had radiated from her at that moment. Had the reaction really been anger, or fear?

  Why would she ever fear Vince?

  “Why in the world would you feel an obligation to fly to New York City and rub shoulders with a criminal?” she’d continued. “The whole idea is crazy.”

  He remained silent, not knowing how to answer without making the situation worse.

  Her temper eased a bit. “Johnny,” she said, relaxing her shoulders and allowing her arms to lower to her sides, “I’m proud of you—you know that, right?” When he nodded, she continued, “Well, I won’t dispute that you’re educated and intelligent, but book learning won’t help you in dealing with thugs.”

  Her breaths became faster again, working up to another temper—and there’d been nothing he could do to prevent it, but stand a bit taller and brace for impact.

  “You’re a college graduate, but you don’t know everything. You don’t know Vince—at least not the way I know him.”

  “Mother…”

  “He abandoned his first wife while she was pregnant with his child. He just divorced her and kicked her out.” She’d reached out to grasp his arm, her eyes stormy, but taking on an edge of pleading. “What kind of man does such a thing?”

  He’d never heard any of this before. His mother’s statement made no sense. “So, why did you marry him?”

  She wilted before his eyes, her focus on the scuffed linoleum. Slowly, she raised her gaze to meet his. “I was unmarried with a small child to take care of and—and I fell in love with him. Later, when I found out what he’d done to his first wife, I lost respect for the man. Oh, I knew about him being a gangster, but that was his business, not mine. When I found out how he treated her, though, not to mention the total disregard for his child, all I could think about was where I’d be if he got me pregnant. I could no longer live with him. I brought you down here to Mobile to live with my parents. When he didn’t bother to come after us or even call, I filed for a divorce.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  He remembered once asking why they’d moved away from New York, and when they’d be going back. As the months passed, he’d gradually accepted that the days Vince would teach him to play cards when his mother went shopping or slip a dollar into his pocket every now and then were over.

  “There’s a lot I never told you. You were only twelve,” she spat out.

  He’d watched her face tighten, knowing her temper rose again like a roller coaster starting up another hill. He also noticed how much she had aged in the four years he’d been at college, but anger only intensified the effect.

  “Don’t you see, son? He’ll get you up there under any pretense that works and then get his hooks into you. He’ll wine and dine you and compliment you on a job well done, and then ask for some tiny favor…” She began to pace, putting some space between them before stopping and turning toward him, a finger raised. “Mark my word, Johnny, it’ll appear innocent, but if you agree, you’ll have sold your soul to the devil. And once you’ve done that little favor, you’ll find yourself knee-deep in the family business.”

  The tirade, even the bitter accusations hurled at him about Vince, could be understood and handled, but tears were another matter. His mother seldom cried, but when she did, it ripped out his heart. She would never know how often he’d stood outside her bedroom door over the years and listened to the muffled sounds of her sobbing into a pillow.

  So, when she stood there with her fists clenched at her sides and tears streaming down her face, he’d stepped forward to take her in his arms for a hug. “Mother, I’m not joining his business. You have nothing to worry about. My degree is in engineering-aeronautics, nothing that would benefit his organization. I’m going to design planes. Period.”

  Her eyes had glistened when she leaned back to look up into his face. “Never forget who Vince is—where his money comes from. Don’t forget what the man does for a living. He loves you, but he lives a dangerous life. I didn’t want you taking his money for college. That was your choice, but Vince doesn’t do anything without expecting payment. Mark my words, he’ll want something from you as repayment on his investment—”

  “Here you go, buddy. Safe and sound,” the taxi driver’s gruff voice announced.

  John popped his eyes open, momentarily confused as he slid up straighter on the seat.

  New York.

  In front of the Ritz.

  A deep sigh slipped out. He’d hated leaving his mother on such a sour note. He understood her concern, but she needed to trust him to turn Vince down if the man asked him to work for the Giovanni family. He’d been taught in school that history tended to repeat itself, so Vince could just as easily end up like the boss before him. Dead.

  He simply felt he owed his benefactor at least the opportunity to help him celebrate. That wasn’t asking too much.

  With her final words ringing in his ears, he rubbed his face and
mentally prepared to meet his stepfather.

  The cabby hopped from the car and rounded the hood, halting when a young man, impeccably dressed in the latest fashion of wide-collared suit and baggy, pleated slacks with cuffs, strode up to him. Some bills were tucked into an outstretched hand.

  John stepped onto the sidewalk, then stood watching while the driver silently handed the nameless man his overnight satchel, gave a lazy salute, and then rounded the hood to slide behind the wheel of the cab. The last glimpse he had was the cabby still chomping the wad of gum as he glanced over a shoulder and then shot out into the flow of traffic.

  Without knowing why, a shiver ran down his back.

  “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Staples, I’ll take you to the gentleman waiting for you.”

  With a nod, he fell in behind the man until they were inside the hotel, then stepped forward to walk beside him toward the elevator.

  “Congratulations on your recent graduation.”

  “Thank you.”

  John glanced over when he continued past the elevators. The concierge stepped from behind a counter, then glanced around and stepped back, his gaze dropping to study the reservation book as if it were of great importance.

  This felt wrong. Vince had said they’d meet at the Ritz.

  He slowed, frowning as the young man put several paces between them before glancing over his shoulder. “This way, sir.”

  Questions and possible consequences of a wrong decision played through his mind—weighed, but then discarded faster than a blink. Sweat beaded along his upper lip. Maybe he should have spent a little more time considering those consequences before accepting the invitation, but at this point, what choice did he have?

  They exited the building through a rear door where a black sedan waited. The well-dressed young man stepped forward, opened the car door, and stood sentinel.

  John hesitated for a moment, then, with heart pounding like a jack-hammer, he climbed into the back seat, the whole time praying these men worked for Vince and not the older man’s enemies.

  The driver kept to the back roads, but John recognized the streets and soon relaxed.