Vestavia instructed Linette to climb into the backseat of a black Range Rover. One of six matching vehicles lined up across the seventy-foot-wide garage. Tinted windows meant they’d escape the media camped in the dark outside the Wentworth fortress.
He spoke quietly with Ostrovsky before they separated. “I want to know who was behind that strike tonight. Peter Wentworth does not make idle threats. He will not continue to support the movement if his daughter dies. The Fratelli would suffer a financial blow from loss of his support that could set our Council back ten years or more.”
“That would not be a setback.” Ostrovsky’s stoic mouth turned harder. “That would be failure. I will report to the others—” He turned at the sound of approaching footsteps.
Bardaric joined them. “Peter has no reason to suspect a Fratelli,” he whispered. His eyes cut back and forth, checking, but no one stood close enough to hear them.
“Who should he suspect?” Vestavia couldn’t read the British prick. Bardaric appeared genuinely shocked by the attack on Gwen, but her death would benefit him the most.
Bardaric’s nostrils flared. “What are you insinuating?”
Ostrovsky stepped forward. “Enough. It is in all our best interests to find the killer and appease Wentworth.”
Was it? Vestavia had yet to be convinced of that.
If Peter Wentworth found out a British Fratelli follower shot his daughter, he’d pull his resources until he received satisfaction in the form of Bardaric’s head.
Literally.
Vestavia would hand him the machete.
But if Peter received evidence that pointed a guilty finger at someone within the North American Fratelli, losing Wentworth’s financial support would be nothing compared to the fallout within Fratelli.
Sitting atop the North American Fratelli pinnacle, Vestavia would be the immediate target. He took Bardaric’s measure once more. Could the Brit be trying to take out the Wentworth breeder and implode the North American Fratelli?
Or is he just trying to kill me?
Vestavia saw a moment of opportunity with Ostrovsky still in attendance. He told Bardaric, “If your plan is approved, you can choose the targets, but I choose the detonation time.” Otherwise, Bardaric would escalate the schedule and blame it on a communication glitch.
“You can’t do that,” Bardaric argued.
“Why not? I thought we were working together on this.”
Bardaric lifted a finger toward Vestavia’s face.
Ostrovsky stepped between them. “A reasonable request.”
“Not a request,” Vestavia said, earning a glare from Ostrovsky.
“I need to know the timing immediately,” Bardaric demanded.
“When you have the targets,” Vestavia said, indicating the U.S. cities Bardaric wanted to take down, “we’ll discuss the details by teleconference with all seven.”
Ostrovsky nodded.
Bardaric shifted his shoulders in a dismissive motion. “Beats jet lag.”
The prick had every reason to be confident. The Council of Seven would very likely approve the destruction of three U.S. cities since the plan to put a Fratelli in the White House last year had busted. The mole behind that failure was racking up a debt their death wouldn’t pay.
“Fra Vestavia?” Cayle Seabrooke, the young man Gwen had introduced Vestavia to before the meeting, came walking up.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance to talk more tonight.” Cayle handed him a card. “Here’s my contact information. I’d like to work with you.”
Wentworth and several Fratelli had highly recommended the guy. Cayle had gray eyes that reminded Vestavia of a wolf on the hunt, always watching for prey or a threat to his territory. The scar slashed across his right cheek fit the lethal edge waiting beneath his veneer of civility.
Vestavia took the card. “Be in Miami tomorrow. I’ll call.” He walked to the Range Rover where Linette sat quiet as a mute and climbed in next to her. Once the door was shut, he pressed the button to raise the privacy glass behind the driver and told her, “Set up a meeting in Miami for tomorrow morning.”
She reached into the briefcase at her feet and pulled out a laptop she booted up. “Who is to attend, Fra?”
“My two southeast lieutenants and you.”
She stopped typing. “Am I to actually be in the meeting?”
“Yes. It’s time we put another female lieutenant in the field. You’ll be a part of our next mission.”
Having a new lieutenant in the field would be instrumental in helping him locate the mole.
Chapter Fifteen
Do you have some aversion to traveling like a normal person?” Abbie shouted at Hunter over the sound of the retreating helicopter, which was turning into a speck of light in the moonless night. Didn’t the pilot wonder about dropping two people in the middle of nowhere?
In the middle of freezing-ass nowhere.
Really. This place might not have a zip code for another decade.
They were in mountains and she’d seen snow-tufted trees all around this open patch when the spotlight under the helicopter had swept the frozen terrain right before they landed. The temperature had to be in the low thirties or upper twenties.
“Move over here.” Hunter’s voice came through the dark quiet as a spirit but with the bite of a general’s order.
“Like I can see where you’re talking about?” She couldn’t see the frost that had to be coming out her mouth. “Don’t you have some kind of light and hand warmers and—”
His fingers cupped her arm.
She jumped. And screeched.
“Who’d you think had touched you?” He held on to her arm but didn’t try to move her.
Did he have to make her feel like an idiot? She was in the dark, pitch dark. Blacker than a bottomless pit.
Like the night she got lost in the dark and cried until her dad found her.
Tears were justified at six years old.
Not at twenty-nine.
She would not let him know how close she was to losing it. There were scarier things in life, like not ever seeing her mother again. “Can I call my mother’s doctor now?”
“No tower out here either. We’ll try as soon as we find one. I told you it might be tomorrow before you could call again. That’s why I let you talk to the hospital while we were landing.”
He sounded so reasonable at times she wanted to scream. He’d only let her talk for a minute when the call went through. The hospital staff had said her mother was resting comfortably tonight. Abbie trusted Dr. Tatum to take good care of her.
Hannah wouldn’t leave their mom alone, but Abbie would never hear the end of it if she didn’t call Hannah soon.
And Dr. Tatum. He might have an idea of someone else for Abbie to talk to at the Kore Women’s Center. She wished he’d been at the hospital when she’d called. Even if Dr. Tatum picked up the voice mail Hunter allowed her to leave, he had no way to reach her. She didn’t have a phone and Hunter wouldn’t share his number.
Hunter tugged a little to get her stepping forward, then hooked his arm around her waist to guide her several more steps. How could he see anything? “Be careful. Don’t move or you could fall and hurt yourself. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait.” Maybe she should let him know she had a limit when it came to terror and she had been pushed over the top too many times in the last twelve hours. “Don’t leave me in the middle of the woods in the dark. Something might attack me.”
“Not unless it’s deaf. Could you hold it down some?”
“Who could possibly be here?” she shouted. Was he serious?
The quick shush of air that blew past her ear sounded like a fiery sigh. Maybe a tired sigh.
She’d never been a nag and didn’t care for coming across like one now, but it was damn cold and pitch-freakin’-black. “Sorry, I just can’t see anything.”
“That’s why I told you not to move.” He said each word carefully, as though she had stepped on his last good nerve.
Her patience had been ground to bits over the past hour and a half, too.
She’d fallen asleep on the jet’s sofa while waiting on him to return from the cockpit so she could demand he tell her the truth about having met her.
She had never begged a man to take her home for a night.
How would any woman not remember sleeping with Hunter?
Besides, even if she was the kind of woman who habitually jumped into the beds of strange men, Hunter might fit her physical criteria, but he was cold as a stone inside.
He hadn’t even come back to finish their conversation before landing, just sent the flight attendant with this gargantuan flight suit and orders from Hunter to put it on.
When Abbie hesitated, the flight attendant had given her the last of his message. “This is your ten-minute warning to get dressed. You’re leaving in whatever you’re wearing when we land.”
The jet touched down at a small airport with one hangar, a single-level brick building and a barely lit runway. Less than a minute after landing, Hunter rushed her from the cozy jet to a waiting helicopter that was one degree warmer than a refrigerator.
The same helicopter that dumped her in this godforsaken hole.
“Abbie?”
She might be cranky, but who wouldn’t be at this point? “What?”
“Are you going to stand still when I leave you?”
“What country am I in?”
He muttered something that sounded four-letter short. “United States.”
“What city?”
“TMI for now. The sooner you let go of me the sooner we’ll get out of here.”
She didn’t realize she’d been clutching his arm. She let go and tried to stick her hands in her pockets, but those were somewhere around her knees. “Why can’t I go with you? Where are you going?”
“To. Get. Our. Vehicle.”
If his face looked anything like his voice sounded he was grinding his jaw muscles.
Transportation. That raised her comfort level. “Okay, I’ll wait… maybe. Unless I hear something.”
He didn’t say a word.
“Do you have matches or something that lights up, like maybe a key light… or… something?” she asked, her voice trailing off in the silence. She hated to feel afraid. Just pissed her off.
“Where’d you grow up?”
“Southern Illinois.”
“On a farm, right?”
“Yes. What of it?” She hadn’t forgotten his snobbish “no” when she’d asked him if he owned a farm.
“Isn’t that out in the country?”
She saw where he was going with this and cut him off. “A farm is not in the wilderness with bears or mountain lions or whatever lives here that has teeth big enough to rip a person to shreds.”
Another sigh. This one parted her hair.
They were getting nowhere arguing. Someone had to make peace.
“I’m sorry, I’m just…” Her teeth chattered. Her head felt like an explosion waiting for a fuse. She hugged her middle, ready to make another stab at convincing him to take her with him.
His fingers curled around her arm again, but this time he pulled her to him and wrapped her up against his chest.
Yes, yes, and oh hell yes.
She didn’t care right then if he’d seen a mole on her thigh. That argument could wait for tomorrow. Life had sent a curveball flying at her and she didn’t know if she could dodge it.
She needed to be held and feel safe, if only just for a minute.
His hand rubbed along her back, up and down, soothing her.
Hunter might not be as coldhearted as she’d thought. She pressed her face to his chest, feeling his heat through the shirt. He tightened his hold and cupped her head to his chest. She hadn’t realized how wide his shoulders were until now.
Not exactly the wastrel she’d pegged him for at the party.
She had a feeling he hadn’t earned this body through tennis or swinging by the gym once a week to chew the fat with the guys. He had to have a kicking metabolism to be so hot without an outdoor jacket in this temperature.
Little by little, the anxiety knotted in her shoulders seeped out until she stopped shivering and drew a long breath.
He smelled rugged and male. Not cold at all.
Inviting.
She felt his shoulders move, then his lips touched her hair. He kissed her on top of her head.
With anyone else she would think the act nice and assume it was no big deal. But she had a feeling Hunter didn’t show much affection.
The simple kiss was endearing.
If she acknowledged it in any way he’d probably turn into a bear again. Best to act like she hadn’t noticed the kiss.
“Better now?” His voice came out rough but tender.
She didn’t want to end the moment, but they couldn’t stand here all night. “Yes. I won’t freak out.”
When he chuckled his chest moved. His hand brushed over her hair and down her shoulder.
She shivered. Not from cold this time, but he must have felt it.
He rubbed her arms briskly in a warming motion. “I’ll take you with me, but I have to carry you until you get shoes.”
Her feet hadn’t been cold until he said that, but now she felt the icy ground through two layers of socks. “Okay.”
He hoisted her fireman-style and carried her over ground that went up and down. She was starting to wonder about this vehicle ten minutes into the walk when he stopped and pulled a car door open. He dropped her on a vinyl seat and flicked on an overhead light. She was in a Jeep truck, an early 1980s model that had been refurbished. The inside smelled worn and manly.
When Hunter slid in behind the steering wheel, he pulled the keys from somewhere under the dash and tried to start the Jeep. The engine ground over and over in a slow roll, trying to catch. He cursed softly, pumped the gas and tried again.
“Pop the hood.” She looked over at him.
He gave her a you-can’t-be-serious look.