Hunting April (24 page)

He gazed at her with renewed awareness. "Our family will be the poorer for not knowing you."

As he turned the ring over in his fingers, the gems glistened in a ray of fading sunlight as it beamed through the window. "I regret that our direct family line ends with Angelo. Maybe is it nature's way of dealing with bad blood like his."

Antonio looked away for a moment. When he turned back, April thought there might have been a slight glisten to his eyes.

He cleared his throat. "I would like you to keep this ring, a personal token from me.

"But, sir—"

He held up his hand, palm outward, to stop her.

"Rather than a reminder of pain inflicted, I hope its ageless beauty may remind you of your triumph over great adversity."

He placed the ring in her hand, closed her fingers around it."When you are ready, wear it in good health."

April felt her own tears threaten to spill at the simple sentiment.

Remember, he's a mob boss,
the
boss of the crime families on the East Coast. The man is a
cold-blooded killer.
He
could have just as easily ordered the hit on you, if it served his purpose
.

"Thank you, sir."

Martone the elder escorted April to the foyer. Daniel stood immediately and watched, eyebrow raised, as Antonio held and kissed both of her hands.

Omigod, Daniel's still here. What's he doing here, anyway? Really, my bodyguard—

Not! Maybe he's interviewing for a new job.
Her breath came in stilted bursts, and her heart was beating so rapidly that she thought she would faint. She realized Antonio was speaking to her.

"It is unfortunate that we meet under such regrettable circumstances. You would have been treasured as a daughter." He turned a sharp eye to Daniel. "And you, Mr.

Wyndsor, I have no doubt you
will
treasure her."

Daniel silently acknowledged the
capo
.

"My dear child, if the need should arise, or if you simply desire to spend a quiet afternoon on the patio with an old man, enjoying tea and the finest pastries, maybe listen to a little music . . . perhaps share the story of your extraordinary meeting with the late Valentino Rugakoff . . . ."

The patriarch of the Martone crime family returned to his study, closed the door.

The audience had ended.

* * * * *

The bodyguard returned April's gun, then escorted her to the wide sweeping front stairs.
Great, now where do I go?
Daniel brought up the rear, after he retrieved his firearm from one of the two giant potted bamboo plants that framed the sitting area.

She thought it interesting that the bodyguard didn't seem to treat Daniel as a threat.
Maybe professional courtesy, one thug to another?
Even in her pissed off state, she knew it wasn't true. Daniel hardly fit into the thug category. A second burly man joined the first, this one with a shaved head and tattoos visible up the back of his thick neck.

The bright red Pontiac muscle car parked next to the lodge's Explorer made the SUV look positively lowbrow and redneck. Guiding April by the elbow, Daniel escorted her to the passenger side of the GTO.

"Hold on, fella, what do you think is happening here?"

"April, get in the car."

"Look, buddy, in case you haven't noticed, I don't take orders these days." Her voice was loud, her tone argumentative, her posture belligerent—April wanted out, and she wanted out, now.

Daniel ran his hand through his hair, his frustration obvious. "Angel,
please
get in the bloody damn car."

When she acquiesced, he kept his cool and handed her into the bucket seat of the classic automobile.

April noticed two more beefy bodybuilders in sport coats had joined the first pair. The men glanced toward the escalating scene, but tried not to get caught looking.

She threw a squinty-eyed look their way.
I swear to good God Almighty that if I see one
smirk, the faintest hint of a macho grin, someone is going to die
.

Daniel slid into the driver's seat. He hit the key, and the 389-cubic-inch motor rumbled smoothly to life. "Where were you going?"

She stared straight ahead."I need to get back to Maine. To return the truck. To grab my gear. To decide whether to stay in Catamount Lake or Manhattan. Or, head back home to Chino, to the farm with the veggies and the milk goats, into the safety of my mother's bosom. If you must know."

She turned to face him, as far as the lap belt would allow. "Why the hell are you here, anyway? Climbing on board with Tony M? Probably a better gig than Angelo. By the way, I like your fancy ride. New car for the new job? A bit too much, I think, if you want to keep a low profile."

She angled a thumb at the guards, smirked. "The guidos seem happy and well fed." Daniel's scent, so close, kicked up her pulse.
Oh no, this is so not gonna happen. Not
again. No way, no how. I'm so outta here.

"Daniel, here's a better idea. Just drop me off at the nearest bus terminal or taxi service, then I'll grab a ride to the GMG building in Jersey. I'm sure Glennon's friends won't mind stopping at Tony M's and grabbing the Explorer on their way back to the lodge from North Carolina." She thrust her chin toward the bodyguards. "That's a lot of beef on the hoof, keeping lookout. I'm sure nothing will happen to the SUV while it's parked here."

The Pontiac continued to idle; Daniel made no move to shift the transmission into gear. "It's still not safe for you out on the street."

April unbuckled her lap belt. "Well, alrighty then, I'm sure I can bum a ride from one of these nice men.
That
would be safe, don't ya think? I'll ask Mr. Martone. He seems to like me."

She reached for the door handle, but his hand on her arm prevented her from leaving. The glare she gave him could have frozen the Great Lakes.

"Angel, I came for you."

His soft, Scottish burr sped along her nervous system and caused a massive traffic jam of emotions.

"Look, you left me. I didn't leave you. So what could you possibly want?" She faced forward again so he couldn’t see the tears pooling.

"Yes, I left. I . . . well . . . . Bloody hell, I made a mistake." His breath blew out after his admission.

"I thought . . . . " He stalled again.

She punched his arm—hard.

"No, goddammit. you
didn't
think. You
didn't
think and you
didn't
give me a chance to explain. You played judge, jury, and finally, executioner. Without the benefit of a hearing. Without a fair trial. Without due process, and all that good shit."

"If you'd give me a chance—"

"Oh, wow, like the chance you gave me?"
I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not . . .
.

The tears finally spilled over.

"And just like that, you decided I'd gone running to Glennon. Just like that, I'm a piece of trash who used you, right? The rebound guy? Isn't that what you thought?"

She saw the truth in his eyes, and yanked her arm out of his grasp.

"You thought I'd gone to Glennon, didn't you, maybe played a little game of musical beds? Maybe musical cocks? Didn't you see how over the moon Abigail was for Glennon? So, a double whammy. I cheat on you, then cut in on another woman's territory."

She grabbed the door handle again. "Yeah, that's me, I'm a real fuckin' prize."

"Angel—"

"Look, Danny Boy, don't fucking
Angel
me. Let's keep this real simple. You thought I cheated, you left. Okay, I get it. You're right, I'm scum. That should clear your conscience. Now, go away. All I want is to grab my gear . . . . "

She stopped. "Actually, no, that's
not
what I want."

She used the back of her hand to brush the tears from her cheek. "You know what? I don't
need
any stuff. All I
need
is a safe ride to the nearest airport. The legalities can be sorted out later."

Leaning back in the seat, she sighed, then closed her eyes. "I'm
so
tired. As Mom would say when the church ladies weren't around, I'm gut-deep-down-to-the-marrow-worn-the-fuck-out. Ya gotta love my mom. I want to go home."

* * * * *

In the end, Daniel threw the Explorer keys to one of the guards, then pointed the Pontiac toward Sanctuary. He called Glennon, Abigail, and Sheriff MacBride to report that April had survived her
tête
-
à
-
tête
with Tony M, unscathed. Then the once-lovers drove without speaking, stopping only to fuel the car.

April's eyes refused to stay opened, and she nodded off, fitfully.

Some four hours into the trip, Daniel throttled down, steered the purring GTO to the granny lane, then took the Woburn exit off the interstate in Massachusetts.

April finally looked at him. "What's up?"

"You refuse to speak to me. Won't listen to reason. I've had exactly one hour and twenty minutes of sleep in the last twenty-four. You must be working on about the same. I suggest a nice hotel, a good meal, then a full night's sleep. In the morning, if common sense continues to elude you, I'll deliver you to the nearest airport and you can catch a flight to Chino. I'll even pay for a first-class ticket. Is this acceptable as a compromise?"

For some reason, his plan unexpectedly lightened her heart. It was a decision she didn't need to make. "It seems reasonable to me. I have no reserves left and I admit it.

I'm done in."

The circa-1800's granite block hotel was lovely even under the lights, with tree-lined avenues, colonnades, ponds, and gardens.

They found their way to the last available room, the Eleanor Roosevelt double suite. April didn't even make a fuss.

"Oh, this is lovely!" Deep red walls capped with ivory-colored crown molding, vaulted ceilings, a huge cherry wood wardrobe, giant four-poster bed. The sitting area opened to a stone-lined balcony, set with a small glass-topped table in white wrought iron, and two matching chairs.

April went into the bathroom, and popped right back out again—momentarily forgetting she was majorly pissed off at her traveling companion. "
Omigod
, Daniel, you need to see this! The bathroom is a religious experience!"

A huge room, the walls and floors finished in colorful Tuscan-inspired ceramic tiles with a metallic sheen. The tub could seat four, comfortably, and the room had a separate shower.

A knock sounded at the door and April jumped.

A man's voice spoke through the door. "Sorry to bother you. Room service."

"Daniel, it's too late for room service. What if we were followed?"

Sig Sauer tucked behind his back, Daniel peeked through the peephole, then opened the door. A tired-looking young man wheeled in the food cart.

"With the chef's compliments, Mr. and Mrs. Wyndsor. Crispy grilled duck with candied mandarin oranges, a cucumber and tomato salad, and a light, white wine.

Chef's choice."

Daniel signed the chit, then handed the man an extra twenty-dollar tip.

* * * * *

After attacking the duck like she was starving, April licked the last of the sauce from her fingers, washed it down with the remainder of the wine. "All right, Wyndsor, I admit your stroke of brilliance. I can't believe you cajoled the chef to put out a late supper for us, but this is awesome!"

He pulled her into his arms. She resisted at first, then relented.

"I'm glad it pleases you. I told the concierge we were just married, our trip was delayed so we were very late, that I wanted something special for you."

She pulled her head back so she could see his face. "You told him what?"

"That we're newlyweds. Is that a problem?"

"Uh, no. Of course not. This suite, the meal, definitely worth the lie. You, well, just caught me by surprise."
And no, I don't want to sleep with you
.

"Glad you enjoyed the meal. My bed is in the next room."

He turned the deadbolt on the communicating door, opened it. He kissed her forehead. "Shower, sleep. Breakfast in the morning, at your leisure."

To her surprise, he turned and walked into his own room.

Because she was still trying to be annoyed at him, April turned the lock to secure the communicating door, which she did with a flourish. She knew he could hear the click.
So there, buddy!
Then she set a world speed record for the fastest shower. Her usual sleepwear, spaghetti-strap tank top and hipster panties, was already laid out on the bedspread.

Clean and fed, April crawled under clean crisp sheets, fell asleep in no time at all.

Tuesday, early a.m.

Bright lights illuminated the basement. A hand reached over the rolled exercise mats, but
it wasn't Abigail's hand. It was a man's hand, a rough hand with heavily calloused fingers.

Wait, no, now it was a hand encased in an old glove, its leather cracked and moldy.

"Go away. You're not real. You're dead. I killed you. I saw your body. I watched the
coroner take you away."

Rugakoff's heavy face followed. "Are you sure? It is your fault I am here, your fault I
found you. And when you are dead, I will kill your Daniel. Then, your friends. When they are
dead, your mother and father will be next to kill."

April tried to fire the Glock. Empty. Click-click-click. She continued to pull the trigger,
pointed the gun at Rugakoff's laughing face. No, it can't be empty. It can't be! There are bullets
in the gun, I loaded it! It's like parachutes, Daniel said, always load your own gun like you
would fold your own parachute. If you don't, you could be just as dead.

"Maybe I will kill your friends first, then I will come back for you. You are no danger to
me. You told Angelo everything, stupid girl. You told him exactly how to find you, now you can
never hide from me. I will hunt you again and again. I will be hunting April, forever."

Click-click-click. She knew there were live rounds in the clip, but the weapon refused to
fire. Click-click-click. Six hits, Daniel said, she'd hit the monster six times. That meant there
were rounds left. Click. Where were the stupid bullets?