Nick UnCaged: Sanctuary, Book Four

by Abbie Zanders

  “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” Bree answered and then realized her paranoia and self-doubt were showing. Her time with Nick had been good—at least until Lenny had made her doubt her own instincts. “We went horseback riding and cooked over an open fire.” Had some thigh-quivering sexy times under the stars, and then I discovered it might have all been staged, she added silently.

  “You’re not going to see him again, are you?”

  They didn’t have plans to meet again, but Bree had been considering asking him to meet for a final breakfast before she left, especially after talking to Lenny. “Nothing definite.”

  Toni exhaled audibly. “Good. Don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I knew it! He didn’t tell you, did he? Because if he had, you never would have agreed to go anywhere with him in the first place.”

  Had Toni found something in Nick’s background that would validate Lenny’s theories?

  “Calm down. You’re not making any sense. What is it that you think Nick didn’t tell me?”

  “That Green Eyes is actually Nicholas Fumanti!”

  A chill ran the length of Bree’s spine, not so much at the name itself as the emphasis with which Toni had spoken it. “So? Fumanti’s a common name.”

  “True. But how many of them are part of the Cagliano crime family?”

  No! The denial rallied loudly in Bree’s head. Her Nick couldn’t possibly be connected to that world. Nick wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t be. He had red hair and green eyes, for God’s sake.

  “There has to be some mistake. Did you verify?”

  “I’m insulted you even asked. Do you think I’d lay something like that on you without verifying?”

  Bree’s heart beat faster as she tried to accept what Toni had told her, searching for rational explanations. Maybe Nick had distanced himself from his family, as she had. Maybe he didn’t like to talk about it. God knew, she didn’t. She was still surprised by the fact that she’d said anything in the diner.

  She thought back to those moments—her words and how she must have sounded, especially to someone who’d been part of that life ... and possibly still was. Maybe that was why he hadn’t mentioned it. He hadn’t wanted her bias to negatively affect her opinion of him or Sanctuary.

  Like Toni was doing at that very moment.

  Toni continued, “You’d never know based on his looks, but yeah. Father, Luciano Fumanti. Mother, Maeve Kelly. I guess he takes after his mother’s side. Weird, with recessive genes and all, but science never was my best subject. And there was Great Aunt Giorgia. She was Italian, and she had bright red hair, remember?”

  “Toni.”

  “Right. So, as I was saying”—Toni emphasized the word as if Bree had been the one to get her off track—“Green Eyes taking after mom instead of dad isn’t necessarily a good thing. His mother’s family is more ruthless than his father’s.”

  “Why do you say that?” Bree asked, rubbing at the blossoming ache between her eyes, sensing she wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “Maeve Kelly? Only daughter of Mickey Kelly? Irish mob? Any of this ringing a bell?”

  Unlike Toni, who found the Mafia a fascinating subject and knew all of the major players, Bree had tried to distance herself from that world as much as possible.

  Bree searched her distant memories for the name among the well-known Irish American faction that controlled the West Side of Manhattan. “Doesn’t sound familiar. Are you talking about the Westies?”

  “Not directly, no. Mickey Kelly’s from the Boston area, but he does have strong ties with the Westies, and Green Eyes grew up not too far from there. Basically, the guy’s a double whammy—Irish and Italian connections. Hmm. Makes you wonder though, doesn’t it? Was it a case of star-crossed true love or one of those arranged marriages to keep the bloodshed to a minimum?” Toni mused. “Tensions between the factions were pretty high in the ’80s, so the latter’s probably more likely, but it’s got the potential for a good Mafia romance, doesn’t it?”

  Bree was only half-listening at that point. Her mind was focused on the fact that she and Nick shared an eerily similar background. Was that why she’d felt such a strong and immediate connection with him? If nothing else, it explained how he’d been able to pinpoint her New York accent so accurately.

  “What else were you able to find out?” she asked, interrupting Toni’s running chatter about classic but ill-fated love matches.

  “Wait. You’re not freaking out. Why are you not freaking out? Oh my God. You slept with him, didn’t you?”

  Yes, I did. Literally. In a hammock, in his arms.

  But that wasn’t what Toni meant.

  The denial died on Bree’s lips because while they hadn’t had sex, sex, they’d had some pretty fantastic alternative, mutually beneficial oral sex.

  “You did!” When Bree remained silent, Toni huffed and added, “Fine. Be that way. You know you’re going to spill the sordid details eventually.”

  She probably would under the combined influence of wine, a need to talk to someone, and Toni’s mad skills at ferreting out information. But not yet.

  “Focus, woman. Did anything else unusual pop up in your research?”

  “That’s not enough?” Toni grumbled under her breath and then said, “Nothing so far, but I’ve been rather busy myself.”

  As if on cue, a deep male voice rumbled in the background.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” Toni called out.

  “You’re not alone.”

  “No,” Toni admitted.

  Shit. Bree had forgotten about Hunter’s homecoming. “I’m sorry. This can wait. Go back to ... whatever it was you were doing.”

  “It’s okay,” Toni said, dropping her voice. “He’s recovering. He got back a few hours ago, and like I said, we’ve been busy. You’re still coming home tomorrow, right?”

  “That’s the plan, but it’ll be the middle of the night your time, so I probably won’t see you until late in the day on Monday. Do me a favor? Send me what you’ve got so far. I’ll need something to keep me occupied while I’m trying not to think about flying.”

  “No problem. Hey, are you sure you’re okay? You sound weird.”

  “Yes, I’m just anxious about the trip,” Bree fibbed. She wasn’t okay, but she would be, just as soon as she made sense of everything. “You know how much I dislike flying. Tell Hunter I said hi, and I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  Bree disconnected the call and then dialed the arson investigator’s number. She left a message with her name and number, and despite the late hour, she received a call back within minutes. After identifying herself and explaining the situation, the investigator agreed to look into it and get back to her.

  That done, she pulled up Nick’s number next, rationalizing that the best way to get information was to go right to the source.

  “What’s up?” Nick asked in a terse greeting, his voice holding none of the soft-spoken warmth she’d become accustomed to.

  “It’s Bree. We need to talk.”

  “It’s not really a good time.”

  “Tomorrow morning then? Breakfast?”

  “Sure. I’ll text you.”

  The line disconnected.

  She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it as a cold ball of disappointment formed in her stomach. What the hell?

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Cage

  Cage set his phone to Silent mode and shoved it back into his pocket, ignoring the glares of the others. “Sorry. Continue.”

  “Who was that?” Heff asked, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “Wouldn’t be the pretty reporter, craving more back-mountain therapy before returning to the big city now, would it?”

  Cage wished it were, but his gut and some really cool digital monitoring software—another benefit to being friends with Ian Callaghan—told him it wasn’t. Someone had been looking into his family history. Based on the IP addresses, it wasn’t Bree but possibly the cousin she’d mentione
d, who worked in research.

  Those inquiries were one of the reasons they were having this impromptu meeting.

  To Heff, he said, “Fuck off.”

  “Doc paid Mr. O’Farrell a visit this morning,” Church continued, “and he gave us a promising lead for where Freed might have moved his stash.” Using the 3-D holographic map Cage had generated—created from a combination of ground-penetrating radar, private satellite images, and scanned-in blueprints from now-defunct mining companies—Church pointed to an undeveloped buffer area between the prepper compound property owned by Freed and Sanctuary property.

  “That’s right in our own fucking backyard.”

  Mad Dog didn’t know just how true that was.

  “Everything south of here”—Church pointed to the lower property line of Sanctuary—“was owned by a small, private mining company that wanted to cash in on the rich veins of anthracite running through the area. Unfortunately, their timing sucked, and the company folded with the stock market crash of 1929. The mines were abandoned and all but forgotten until Darius Freed decided to buy the land for cheap and offer up the holes as a convenient dumping ground for big-city trash haulers.”

  “Mobsters,” Heff murmured.

  Cage shifted slightly. It wasn’t the first they’d heard of the shady deals the Freed family patriarch had tried to make. But they didn’t know the whole story.

  “But Freed lost that land when the EPA got involved and put a stop to it, and your father or grandfather picked it up, right?” Doc asked Church.

  “Yes, and no. Yes, Freed did have to sell off most of the land he’d bought to pay the fines. But that particular tract had already been sold.”

  “Do we know who owns it?” Mad Dog asked.

  Church paused.

  It was Cage who answered, “I do. But it’ll belong to all of us soon.”

  As one, they turned to him.

  “Come again?” Mad Dog asked.

  “One of those mobsters Darius Freed sold land to was my grandfather,” Cage explained calmly.

  Church was the only one who knew his family history, but with Bree sniffing around and doing background checks, he and Church had decided it was time to come clean with the rest of the team.

  Church didn’t think the guys would think of him any differently. Cage hoped he was right.

  “He died and left the land to me. I’d like to donate it, make it part of Sanctuary.”

  “Holy shit, man. Why didn’t you tell us?” That was from Doc.

  Cage shrugged, but inside, his gut was twisting. “It’s not really something I’m proud of.”

  “I think I speak for everyone when I say we don’t judge a man on the actions of his father—or anyone else for that matter,” Heff said, his voice unusually serious, “but on what he does.”

  Church shot Cage an I told you so look as the others nodded in agreement.

  “Seems like one hell of a coincidence though,” Smoke said evenly. “Or is there more to this story you haven’t told us yet?”

  Church exchanged a glance with Cage, who nodded. “Tell them.”

  “The first time Cage and I met wasn’t in the teams; it was when we were kids. He came out with his grandfather to check out the land Darius was selling, and they ended up staying at the resort. We were around, what, ten at the time?”

  Cage nodded and took over the tale. “We ended up staying a whole week. Church’s grandfather convinced my grandfather that the land held more value and potential as an investment property, so my grandfather bought it, not as a landfill, but as a place to build a resort of his own, where he could retire someday. That didn’t happen, obviously. My grandmother refused to leave the city, and he wasn’t really cut out to live in the mountains. He remembered how much I’d enjoyed the area though and left it to me when he died.” At least, that was what the letter the lawyer had sent him said.

  “When?” asked Smoke.

  “Last winter. I got the papers not too long ago.”

  “And you had no idea?”

  “No,” Cage answered, a note of regret in his voice. Despite everything, he’d always liked his grandfather even if he didn’t like the life he’d led. “I hadn’t talked to him—or anyone in the family for that matter—since the day I left for boot camp.”

  “Sorry about your grandfather, man,” Doc said.

  The others offered similar condolences.

  Cage nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Weird how everything came together, huh?” That was from Heff.

  “Very. Church and I didn’t expect to run into each other again, especially not halfway across the world. Then, our paths crossed a third time when he reached out a few years ago, and it was like it was meant to be, you know?”

  Third time’s a charm. Wasn’t that what he’d said to Bree?

  Just like that, his mind was back on her, wondering what she wanted to talk to him about. Maybe she didn’t want to talk at all. Maybe she just wanted an excuse to see him again before she went back to California. He was one hundred percent in favor of that. The minute he stepped outside, he was going to call her and—

  “So, why are you telling us all this now?” Mad Dog asked.

  “Because if anyone digs deeper into my background or realizes that Sanctuary extends further than the original Winston resort, it could bring unwanted publicity and shift the focus away from what we’re trying to do here. I wanted you to hear it from me. I also wanted to let you guys know that I’m willing to resign as a partner if it’s going to negatively impact our mission.”

  Silence filled the room before Doc said emphatically, “Fuck that. Not happening.”

  Cage felt his chest swell as, one by one, the others echoed the sentiment. That quickly, the matter was settled. His relief was palpable. These guys had his six. Always.

  “Let’s back up here a minute because I want to make sure I’m understanding this correctly,” Mad Dog said. “Freed’s using the land, thinking it belongs to some old mobster—no offense—who’s forgotten about it, but it’s really Cage’s?”

  Church nodded, a wicked gleam in his eye. “That about covers it. The sooner we get down there and check it out, the better.”

  Doc stood and rubbed his hands together. “No time like the present.” He looked at Cage. “You down?”

  “Sure. Give me a few to grab some gear, and I’ll meet you at the barn in twenty.”

  “You got it.”

  Cage jogged back to his trailer. His enthusiasm for heading into the mines was tempered by concerns over why Bree had called him at midnight to “talk.” He didn’t think matters involving his personal history would be resolved quite as quickly with her as they had been with the guys. He could hope though. Ridiculous as it sounded, he had the same kind of feeling of “home” around Bree as he did at Sanctuary.

  Part of him wanted to drive down into Sumneyville right then and there, talk to Bree, and get everything out in the open.

  Another part of him wanted her to continue to think of him only as the guy who had shown her his telescope and given her a couple of orgasms. Based on her life experiences, she wouldn’t be stoked to find out he was a part of that world. That was exactly why he hadn’t told her when she said something in the diner and definitely why he hadn’t mentioned it on their private excursion.

  Just because he felt a certain way didn’t mean that she did, and if she didn’t, then there was really no point in bringing it up at all.

  A lot would depend on why she’d called, which, he reminded himself, he didn’t know.

  Regardless, talking to Bree would have to wait until their breakfast date in the morning.

  He and Doc met at the barn and loaded up the small utility vehicle. Then, they drove to the edge of the current Sanctuary property. They covered the rest of the distance on foot, using powerful handheld flashlights to light their way.

  Had they not known exactly where to look, finding the entrance to the mine shaft would have been difficult. The area had been reclaimed
by nature over a near century of unuse, much like the Paxton entrance near Kate’s place. Fresh tracks coming in from the southwest, however, confirmed that someone had been out there recently.

  “Couple days at most,” Doc said quietly, squatting down to get a closer look. “There must be an access road nearby.”

  After taking a few moments to ensure they were alone, they proceeded to check the entrance. Beneath the heavy growth of ivy and vines, some of the ancient planks boarding up the opening had been removed.

  They didn’t have to go far to find what they were looking for. At least a dozen crates were stacked against the shored-up wall just inside the entrance.

  “The sheer arrogance is mind-boggling,” Doc said, shaking his head as he took pictures. “It’s like they’re not even trying to hide this stuff.”

  “That overconfidence is what got them into this mess.” Cage got to work, setting up tiny motion-sensitive cameras at strategic locations. “And it’s going to be their downfall. The good news is, since this is privately owned property and I’m the legal owner, anything we record here can be used against them.”

  “Do you really think there’s a mole?” Doc asked.

  “Not a clue. But the Callaghans hinted there might be, and that’s good enough for me.”

  “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m glad they’re on our side.”

  It took most of the night to set up and properly camouflage surveillance inside and outside the entrance. They returned to Sanctuary just as the first pale shades of dawn appeared on the horizon.

  The scent of Sam’s freshly brewed coffee permeated the dining area. Smoke’s alert gaze was on the doorway as they came through it. He sat at the table closest to the kitchen, out of the way but still within sight of Sam.

  Recognizing Cage and Doc, Smoke’s eyes swung toward the kitchen, where Sam was busy preparing breakfast, verifying she was safe and secure. The whole process took less than a second, and it was one he would repeat often—his need to protect and care for his woman as natural as breathing.