Seduced by Sunday (28 page)

She posed and the men glancing their way turned away.

“Are they watching?” Val asked.

“Not anymore.”

Val took her hand and started up the hill, farther into the thick green fields of grapevines. It didn’t take long for them to crest the hill
and disappear from sight of the tasting room, parking lot, and farm workers.

“Is that the road to Alonzo’s?”

A paved road ran alongside the adjacent winery, they’d seen that on the map.

“I think so,” Val said.

They followed the road and zigzagged in and out of the rows of grapevines to keep hidden as much as possible.

“What exactly do you think we’ll find?” Val asked her.

“Probably nothing. Sounds like the place isn’t swarming with people.”

“I wonder how that’s possible. Every winery we’ve visited has had employees everywhere. The closer we are to the harvest, the more hands are needed.”

They were slowly climbing again, the road started to curve away from them. The division between the properties was nothing more than a row of olive trees and rosebushes.

“Let’s assume Michael is right about the wine Alonzo is passing off as his own belonging to someone else,” Meg suggested.

Val led her around the thriving vines. “Still seems like a lot of work. And what does he do with all these grapes if not make wine?”

Alonzo’s land was row upon row of vines, just like all the others in the region.

“Maybe it’s not enough . . . maybe the wine sucks.”

Val seemed to consider her words as the incline increased.

Meg slowed down, pacing herself.

“Time to pass over the boundary,” Val said.

“After you.”

They crossed into Alonzo’s land and moved far from the road but kept it in sight.

“How long has he owned the land?”

“At least five years, maybe more,” Val told her. “Most of these properties, the lucrative ones in any event, seldom change hands.”

“Could Alonzo have made a bad investment and needs to make himself look good with bootleg wine?”

“At the risk of going to jail? I can’t see it.”

Maybe Val couldn’t, but Meg did. Seemed the man was bitterly cold one minute and sappy sweet the next. Her experience with people like that never ended well.

They heard a vehicle along the road, stopped moving, and ducked into the vines. “Looks like someone is here.”

“If workers are milling about the workhouses, we’re turning back,” Val told her as they stood and started walking again once the truck passed.

“Not if we can learn something.”

Val stopped.

Meg walked into him.

“We turn back. I won’t risk any problems with you here.”

“I’m the one who came up with this crazy idea, now you think my being here is a bad idea?”

“I don’t know if I ever thought this was a good idea.”

Meg moved around him, chugging up the hill. “It’s the only idea.”

Val scrambled beside her, caught her hand, and kept them to a slow pace.

There was a massive barn and a small house. Much smaller than the villas they’d frequented all day. Not that the size of the home mattered.

The closer to the barn they drew, the less they talked.

The delivery truck they’d followed up the road was now parked in front of the largest building. Meg called it a barn in her head, but it was probably where the grapes were brought to process.

Their vantage point wasn’t great, but she could still see the activity clearly enough. Listening in on the conversation, however, was moot.

There was some kind of heavy equipment brought to the truck, where one of many barrels was lifted from it and onto a lift of some sort. The three men involved in the transfer were careful with the barrel. It was obvious the thing was full.

“Since when does a winery bring
in
barrels of wine?”

Val said nothing, just stared.

The process went through several loads and then the cases started to come. Crates of wine were stacked up on the loader and transferred into the barn.

“Seen enough?” she asked.

Val’s jaw visibly tightened before a curt nod answered her.

They inched back until the barn was out of sight, and then they moved quickly down the hill, around the olive trees, and back toward the car.

Val was catching up, figuratively in any event. In an effort to show she understood how hard it must be for him to accept that his future brother-in-law duped him into believing he was something he was clearly not, Meg held on to Val’s hand.

He squeezed it.

And she squeezed back.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“I need to know where they are, Lou.” Back at the hotel, Val found himself cleaning up a mess.

“Mr. Picano said it was a short trip.”

“Where? Do we have any idea where?” Val already knew the answer, but he couldn’t help but ask anyway.

“It’s a private yacht. There’s no saying where they are. Could be a few miles off our shore . . . Cuba.”

Val’s head started to pound. “Our number one priority right now is Gabi. We need to find her.”

“Missing persons report . . . abduction?”

Yes . . . no!
“Not yet. Let’s learn what we can without the authorities.”

“You got it, Boss. Anything else I can do?”

“No. Call, anytime.”

Val’s employee hung up and all that remained was worry.

Margaret moved behind him, fresh from her shower, and ran her hands over his shoulders. “We’ll find her.”

A knock on the door indicated room service with their meal.

Val excused himself with a squeeze of Margaret’s hand for a quick shower while she answered the door. They had both emerged from the vineyards looking like farmhands.

In any other circumstance, Val would have appreciated the adventure. The fact that he hadn’t thought of the day-to-day life on his island since he left was a strange relief. It wasn’t until Margaret had informed him of the true nature of Alliance that he understood the stakes at risk.

Only now, he was worried about something, someone, more precious.

Wearing silk pajama pants and a hotel bathrobe, Val joined Michael and Margaret for dinner in their suite.

Michael and Margaret were eating their salads and sipping one of the many bottles of wine they’d purchased during the day.

“Feel better?” Margaret asked him.

“Cleaner.”

She offered a half smile in understanding.

Michael poured a glass of something red for Val to drink. “We’re talking motive.”

Val hesitated when he lifted the glass. “How is it an actor, a hotelier, and the office manager of a matchmaking firm are talking motive?”

“Because we know the players,” Margaret told him.

“And when you figure out the motive, you have a chance at catching the bad guy.” Michael waved his fork in the air. “I’ve been in enough movies with the same general theme.”

“Movies.” Not real life, Val mused.

“Let’s not forget Judy,” Margaret said to Michael.

Michael’s expression sobered.

“What about Judy?” Val asked.

Margaret picked at her salad before pushing it aside and digging into her main course. “A few years past, Judy had a stalker.”

Not the answer Val had expected.

“Who eventually kidnapped her.”

Val’s fork hesitated over his food.

Michael and Margaret exchanged glances. All hints of smiles fled in an instant.

“I met Judy . . . that’s Rick’s wife, right?”

Margaret nodded. “She survived. But . . . well, that’s not important, what’s imperative is that we think of this logically. What does Picano have to gain by marrying your sister? What does he have to gain by passing off someone else’s wine as his? The man has money, but not enough income to account for every dollar he spends . . . why is that?” Margaret kept rattling. “Is he an American? Is he an Italian national? Could he need Gabi for citizenship? Does she have money he’s after? Was he the man behind the pictures? Does he want leverage against you?”

Val saw the pain behind Margaret’s eyes and realized she’d been in this position before.

Instead of making her relive her past, Val tried to answer the questions he could. “Alonzo is Italian. Marrying my sister could eventually pave his way to citizenship, but he’s never said a thing about wanting that. If anything, he liked that she was an American while he based himself here in Italy.”

“But if he doesn’t stay at the winery, where does he live when he’s here?” Michael asked.

Margaret sighed and picked up her fork again while she listened.

“I couldn’t tell you that,” Val said between bites.

“I’ll call Rick and Judy in the morning with an update,” Margaret said. “Maybe Rick can find out.”

“As for money . . . I’ve always provided for Gabi. I started the island with the net worth of my father. In reality, the island and all its proceeds, are a third hers. Though it’s not something we discuss. She knows she never has to worry about money.”

“Does Alonzo know this?” Michael asked.

“I never discussed it with him . . . I can’t speak for Gabi.” Which gave another dark mark against the man if Gabi had told Alonzo of their arrangement.

“So money could be a motivator.”

The three of them managed to put some food into their systems, and blew through a bottle of wine before giving up on the illusion of eating.

Less than a half hour later, Margaret rested her head in the crook of Val’s arm. The only light in the room glistened from the lights of Rome.

“Remind me to come back here,” she said as he played with her bare arm. “The city looks beautiful.”

“You’ve never been?”

Margaret offered a chuckle. “I grew up in rain-soaked Washington State. The only travel I’ve managed has been because of my job . . . well, that and Judy. I’ve been to her hometown, which makes mine look like New York.”

“That small?”

“I’ve read about small towns . . . but nothing holds a candle to Hilton, Utah. I understand why three of the five Gardner kids moved away.”

“Gardner?”

“That’s Michael’s given last name. Wolfe is for the movies.”

Val seemed to remember something about a second name for the actor, but hadn’t committed it to memory.

“Rome is beautiful. So rich with history. Architecture . . . Judy would give her left tit to wander the streets.”

Val laughed. “Her left tit, really?”

“She’s a total geek when it comes to architecture. I can’t tell you how many museums she dragged me to in college.” Margaret went on to tell about her college experience with Michael’s sister. “I made
her hit a bunch of dive bars with amazing bands and what does she do? She hustles pool and makes the most of it. Brat.” There wasn’t an ounce of bite in Margaret’s words.

“Sounds like the best of friends.”

“We are. I’m lucky. And she wore off on me. I have a crazy desire to visit the Vatican and see Michelangelo’s work. And I don’t even like that stuff.”

Val kissed the top of her head. “Then we’ll return. See the city and everything your
I don’t like this stuff
heart desires.”

Margaret sighed, as if she wanted to say something and held back, then said, “Well, I’m lucky to have Judy. That became acutely evident when Gabi told me she didn’t have a close friend. If I knew your sister before she met Alonzo, I would have told her she could do better from day one.”

Val closed his eyes against her words. “I should have—”

“No. Val, it’s a girl thing. Men don’t see things the way women do. You approved a portfolio . . . women approve the person, then ask about if the man is a decent financial match.” Margaret groaned. “God that sounded superficial.”

“No need to apologize. A man should meet the financial needs of his wife, his family.”

She shook her head. “You’re such an old-fashioned man. I don’t think it matters. What matters is two people working together to make their life work for the right reasons. It wouldn’t bode well for Gabi to hook up with a man who sits on the couch and
talks
about getting a job one day.”

“Or a man who might be making money illegally.”

His words rested between them.

“We’ll find them,” Margaret said. “We’ll find them and question Alonzo until he’s within an inch of his life. We have more doubt than Gabi has ever had. Chances are, the questions alone will make her pause and ask if this is truly the man for her.”

He hoped so . . . after the questions in his head, Val didn’t want Alonzo anywhere near his sister. How could he have been so blind? Gabi was with the man now . . . somewhere . . . alone.

“Hey, stop it!”

Margaret sat up and stared at him.

“What?”

“You’re beating yourself up. Stop it.”

“You’re pushy.”

“Says the man who showed up in my bed without an invite last night.”

Had it only been one night? Seemed longer with the events of the day.

“Best idea ever.”

Margaret seemed to debate his words before leaning over him, hovering an inch above his lips. “It didn’t suck.”

She kissed him. Pushed her luscious lips against his with purpose and drove all thoughts of dirty vineyards, espionage, and his sister far from his brain.

I’m shallow . . . so shallow.
He was instantly hard, his body buzzed with want. He should have been tired, dozing away to la-la land instead of taking the Margaret carpet ride. And since when did he refer to making love as a magic carpet ride? The woman kissing him was seeping into his life by slow degrees, and he liked it.