Hunting April (23 page)

The old man straightened in his seat, seemed to reassess his guest.

"You?" One classic white eyebrow arched.

"Glock .40 caliber, semi-auto. Six shots to the chest."

"That would make someone very dead, yes."

"Just for the record. The man who trained me wasn't my bodyguard. He was my lover."

He raised the other eyebrow. "I see. And what can I do for you, April Hall?"

"Actually, sir, it's what I can do for you. Do you have a computer?"

He took her request in stride. "There."

A laptop sat on a small, black, lacquered writing desk.

April unplugged the computer, powered it up on his oversized desk, slid the flash drive into the port.

"The blackmail file Angelo threatened to send to my parents has been deleted—

the contents are no one's business but my own. Everything else is as we found it. There are about three hours of edited footage. You might want to fast-forward through certain sections, then study them more closely in private."

She parked on a comfortable chair facing the desk, the better to watch Antonio's reaction.

"We?"

Ah, now we come to the sticky part of my plan
. "The bodyguard who's not really my bodyguard, the security expert who opened the files, and a close friend who is kinda-sorta in law enforcement. Their lips are as tightly sealed as mine are. We cannot divulge the information without implicating ourselves, and we do
not
wish to implicate ourselves. The results could get ugly, and there's no point to it. We have nothing to gain. Sir, we want this entire affair as dead and buried as Rugakoff's remains."

The senior Martone turned his attention to the computer screen and scrolled through the files. His rich, bronzed complexion paled and his handsome, aristocratic features sagged before her eyes.

"This is why you ran from my nephew?" He did not look at her, just continued scrolling.

April shifted in her seat. She arranged her skirt, crossed her legs gracefully at the knees. No longer the doormat, she was
April
again.

"Your nephew, sir, imprisoned me in his big fancy house, then, shall we say, reinforced his wishes." She considered for a moment. Rising, she turned her back to him. She shrugged the loose, gauzy blouse off her shoulders, then stood naked to the waist.

The old man stopped looking at the computer screen, gazed at her, sucked in a strangled breath.

April adjusted her clothing to cover the scars, turned to face him again, then sat again. "I escaped from Angelo. The how and where isn't important. Then I made a mistake."

She took a deep breath, stared at her hands for a moment before she could continue. Next, she made strong, solid eye contact.

"Angelo found us. He sent Valentino for me, and for the flash drive. I had no idea the flash drive was in my possession. As you see, dear darling Angelo couldn't take the chance these files would fall into the wrong hands."

She shifted in her chair. A flashback hit her, an image of the predatory woman who had taken over Glennon's office. April strengthened her body language.
Let's go for
the confident look. Glenn Close, not Sharon Stone
.

"Once Angelo recovered the flash drive, ownership of his companies would revert to him on my subsequent demise with nothing more than my death certificate. At the moment, I believe that I technically own his sorry ass."
Okay, let's see how this plays
out
.

The surprise—then disgust—on Antonio's face appeared totally genuine. After the fast-forwarded videos wound down, he closed the laptop. He pushed the machine away, as if it had all the allure of road kill on a hot summer day.

"You have courage, coming here, alone, into the lion's den. But maybe this is a small consideration, after killing Valentino. The best at his job. Taken out by such a little girl."

April's expression hardened, her posture stiffened.

Antonio held his hand up."Calm yourself. It is a
complimento
." He sat back in his chair. "So, you come to me. What is it that you want in exchange for your silence?"

Here we go. Time to let it all hang out
. "Your solemn word that I, and mine, will be permitted to live in peace and never be bothered. I'll sign whatever you need me to sign, but I will not set foot, ever again, in the same room as your nephew. I'm sure you understand."

She rose, unplugged the flash drive and held it up. "The FBI, the CIA, the State Police, the LEOs—they know nothing of this. They are aware only of my belief that Angelo hired the shooter, but there is no evidence other than my word to support my conviction."

"Then how do you know this to be true? How can you be sure it was my nephew who ordered the hit?"

April shrugged. "From Rugakoff's own lips. He happened to mention it—just before he promised to kill my man, hunt me like an animal, then kill me for his pleasure."
My dainty antelope, he'd said
. She shuddered.

"Yet you killed him and escaped harm."

"Yes."

"And your word is not good enough?"

"Apparently not without corroboration. In truth, I believe the authorities care only that Rugakoff is dead. I vow to you that we made no copies of these files. I suspect that Angelo doesn't have copies, or he wouldn't have been so determined to retrieve the copy I have. The flash drive is my gift to you—and I leave you to clean your own house."
Don't be too pushy here; this man isn't an idiot. Just plant the seed
.

Antonio's expression hardened, ever so slightly. "And that is all you require?"

April smiled. "Well, sir, it would be a wonderful gesture if you could see your way clear to make a generous donation to the St. Francis of Assisi convent, to assist the good nuns who take in battered women and their children, to bind their wounds and keep them safe. It is a small church with very little money, across the highway from Angelo's neighborhood. Anonymously, or not. Your choice."

Antonio's countenance relaxed, resumed its handsome features. "It is a small thing. Consider it done. Is there anything else? You ask very little in exchange for such an important gift as you give me."

He gave her a hard, piercing stare. She met it, bravely.

"No, sir, Mr. Martone. Just the promise of safe passage, which I requested. I know you would honor such a promise."
Let this work, please let this work.

A soft knock at the door interrupted them. The ex-pro-wrestler approached the desk, walked around to whisper in Antonio's ear. The old man nodded.

The beefy bodyguard turned to leave—and Daniel Wyndsor barged into the room. The heavy man went for his sidearm, but Daniel quickly held up his hands, fingers splayed. Dressed in his professional dark suit-white shirt attire, he slowly opened his jacket, lifting the lapel with forefinger and thumb to reveal an empty shoulder holster to a calm, but curious, Antonio.

Remembering the drill from living with Angelo, as brief as that had been, April knew Daniel had already given up his weapon, but the bodyguard was playing it safe.

The guard patted Daniel down again, which—under the circumstances—was expected.

The bodyguard seemed nonplussed when his boss permitted Daniel to stay but the ex-pro was dismissed.

The shock of Daniel's appearance rocked April's world.
Dammit! A mob boss I can
handle. My ex-lover, I can't
. She grabbed the arms of the chair for support. She glanced at Antonio, who seemed not the least bit perturbed.

"Mr. Wyndsor. How forgetful of me. Did we have an appointment?" Antonio settled comfortably.

"No, sir. I apologize for the intrusion. April . . . Miss Hall . . . is my responsibility.

It is my duty to protect her."

Daniel's posture didn't appear at all apologetic. He hadn't arrived humbly, with hat in hand.

At the
my responsibility
line, both April and her hackles began to rise.

Antonio gestured for her to remain seated.

"I see. Yet, you did not accompany Miss Hall when she requested this private meeting."

"An unfortunate delay. The situation is resolved, sir, and I am here to assume my

. . . position."

Martone sat deep in his chair, his fingers again steepled. "And you continue to protect her even now? Though Valentino Rugakoff is dead?"

"Your nephew lives."

A stern aspect overshadowed Antonio's features at the simple words. "You are very outspoken, Mr. Wyndsor."

Daniel didn't blink, didn't back down.

"Sir, forgive my directness. Angelo is out of control. You know it and I know it.

And since he
is
out of control, Miss April and her family continue to be in danger.

Valentino's body cools on a stainless steel slab in the morgue. Who will Angelo hire to take his shooter's place? Who is next in line after Angelo crosses Rugakoff off the list?

How long will April and her family get to live? Especially when he discovers she's been here."

The old man gave a single nod. "Reasonable questions. Your points are well taken."

Daniel must have stepped closer. April smelled his cologne. It turned her insides to mush, made a jumble of her emotions.
Folks, I don't mean to blow the whistle and run,
but I need to get gone
.

Antonio turned his attention back to April. "And your man, he is a good man?"

Their eyes met, and April caught a hint of sparkle in the old man's black eyes.

My man? I told a bald-faced lie. I have no man. I may never again have another man. I
don't have Glennon. Abigail has Glennon. I thought I had Daniel, but now Daniel hates me. Left
me without a word, took off running with his holier-than-thou assumptions, gave me no chance
to explain. Oh, yeah, he hates me. He's here because he has an incredibly annoying sense of
responsibility. So, technically, I have no man
.

Martone waited, clearly expected a response.

How do I explain this emotional clusterfuck?
She knew instinctively that
any
explanation on her part would be seen as a sign of weakness, whether it was the truth or not.
Stiffen up that limp backbone, sister
.
You've come this far
.

"Sir, he is the very best of men."

"Do you love this man?"

April blinked at the question, sat back in the seat. Blinked again.
Fuck
. She considered the source. Tried to buy time.
Damn it. What's Antonio doing, playing Siciliano
matchmaker?
She felt the fire from Daniel's eyes without even looking.
Well, answer him,
stupido
.

"Yes, I do love him, from the very depth of my soul."
For all the good it does me.

The minute this is over, he's gone. Out the door again. Ciao bello. Arrivederci
. She stood, brushed the creases out of her skirt, expected the meeting to be at an end.

"Mr. Wyndsor, as you can see, your woman is in no danger. Would you excuse us? We have unfinished business to discuss." It wasn't a request.

Daniel glanced at April, but caught only her stony gaze. He nodded to Martone, then left the room with dignity, without haste.

The old man rose, poured a brandy from the sideboard. He offered her a libation—she declined. He faced her, took his time while he considered.

"I have faith that you will not share my confidences. With anyone." He waited for April's nod. "My brother and his beautiful wife died in an automobile accident. I received news from a trusted source that suggests the accident coincided with my nephew's need for money. Their deaths left him very wealthy."

Antonio replaced the snifter on the sideboard, strolled the room in soft slippers, hands folded behind his back. "I miss my brother." He faced her. "There is no cause for worry. My people will fix any legal issues with Angelo's business ventures that he signed over to you.

"I wish to offer, what do you call it,
compensazione
, eh, compensation, shall we say, for what you have endured at my nephew's hands. And for your generous offer of silence in matters best left to family. I wish for you to take over the business at which you were employed—in your name only, without interference. You may keep it, sell it, do with it as you wish." He took up the snifter again, downed a healthy swallow. "This seems right to me."

April plunked down into the chair, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, her tough gal manner forgotten. "Mr. Martone, sir, I cannot . . . that is too generous . . . ."

He waved his hand."It is a fair exchange, considering the importance of the gift you have given me. It is done. My nephew will be—retiring, and I have no interest in such things. It is a sad day when family cannot be trusted."

Antonio took the flash drive, slid it into the pocket of his well-worn cardigan. He patted it. "This will be dealt with. Where should my attorneys send the legal documents?"

Now, there's a good question
. April hadn't considered anything past surviving this meeting, and she had serious doubts about that.

"Sir, I'm not sure. Angelo took my possessions and sub-let my apartment. In all honesty, I seem to be homeless at the moment." She shrugged. "I guess GMG Security and Surveillance, in Jersey. At least for now. I'm sure your people can look up the address. I don't have a card or anything with me."

He cocked his head. "Investigator Garrett. You know this man?"

Wide-eyed once more, she could only nod.

"He has caused me some difficulties in the past, your friend."

She stared pointedly at him. "Both my men, Mr. Wyndsor and Mr. Garrett, are
family
to me, sir."

"Your men. Interesting." He returned her stare with a measure of respect. "I understand." Antonio waved a hand in dismissal. "It is of no concern. Such is the price of doing business. The games continue, life goes on."

"Oh, wait, Mr. Martone. There
is
one more thing."

His expression darkened, was not as pleasant as it had been a moment before.

April reached into the pocket hidden in the side seam of her skirt.

"I nearly forgot. This belongs to your family, sir." She handed him the gold heirloom ring. "I left Angelo's house, so I guess I technically broke our engagement. I have no right to keep it."