High Stakes Seduction - Book 5

by LeCoeur, Ami

  That asshole, Whiny Wendell Walker! How could he do this to my sweet sister? How could he make her a total orphan, with no family at all? As I thought about Walker, I began to get angry. That was good, I liked that feeling. It was a hell of a lot more empowering than feeling sorry for myself. So I fed it. Every time I started to feel sad about myself, my circumstances, I pictured Walker's face. Or I heard his whiny voice. And then I'd get angry all over again.

  I started imagining what I would do to him if I ever got the opportunity. The little tortures that I could make up, each one worse than the last. These weren't pleasant thoughts by any means, but they kept me occupied. And more importantly, kept me away from feeling sad or being scared.

  I was in the middle of coming up with a totally satisfying and equally gruesome surprise for the deserving Mr. Walker, when the casket lid was suddenly thrown open.

  I was once again blinded by the intensity of light that hit my face. I immediately scrunched my eyes shut, protecting them from the light, while I wondered what Walker had in store for me this time.

  "What do you want?" I screamed at him.

  I heard a commotion, a soft swearing, then a voice called out, "Hey Joe, over here."

  That wasn't Walker's voice! My eyes flew open again and I blinked rapidly, trying to clear away the bright spots in front of my eyes.

  "Are you okay, Miss?" Was that Thompson's voice behind the light? I was certain of it, even though I was still too blinded to see his face. "Don't worry, you're safe now."

  I couldn't help it, I burst into tears.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  ANGELA

  Coffee! I opened my eyes, inhaling the unmistakable scent of fresh brewed coffee, glancing over at the sunshine splashing through the window against the wall.

  I stretched, enjoying the feel of the soft sheets against my skin. But I stopped in the middle, suddenly remembering the dark cramped space I'd been confined in not so long ago.

  Had that been just one of my crazy dreams? They could be pretty scary and amazingly vivid. I looked around my room. This was obviously my own bed. But then I looked at my hands resting on top of the blankets. My nails were torn and jagged, and I had a bruise on my wrist. That was enough to convince me that what I'd been through was no dream. I remembered tearing at the walls of the casket, and beating against the sides and top in my panicked desperation.

  I shivered, the entire experience rushing back over me. The terror, the isolation, the worry about Maria. I took another deep breath. The last thing I wanted right now was to think about that horrible experience. I was alive! And safe, and home. The delicious smell of coffee meant Maria was up and fixing breakfast.

  At the thought of food, my stomach rumbled. It had been more than a day since I'd last eaten. I threw on my robe, anxious to see my sister and give her a hug.

  "Hey sleepyhead!" smiled Maria, handing me a cup of coffee and pointing at the table. "Sit down, I'll fix you something to eat."

  "What time is it?" From the angle of the sun, I guessed I’d slept late.

  "About one-ish," came the response.

  "Why did you let me sleep so late?"

  "Because you needed it, silly!"

  I sat down at the table and took a big gulp of the coffee. I couldn't believe how good it tasted. I looked around our kitchen and it seemed to sparkle. Everything was more vibrant than I remembered. And more precious. The thought of never coming back gave me a totally different perspective now that I was safe and in my home.

  "Here," said Maria, handing me a newspaper." You're famous, sort of."

  "D.A. Busts Money Laundering Operation—Syndicate Washed Up" read the headline across the front page. Under that was the same picture of Cartoli shaking hands at the Children Academy that I'd seen before, but this time the caption read "Funeral Director launders illegal funds through Children's Academy. Local Alderman implicated in widespread cover-up."

  "Wow," I said, scanning the article. "I guess the news gets out pretty fast."

  "Oh Sis, I'm just glad you're home and it all turned out okay." She gave me a big hug. "I was so worried, it was awful not knowing where you were, or if something bad had happened to you."

  "You have no idea. As terrifying as it was being inside that casket, I kept thinking about leaving you here by yourself. It was a horrible thought that I just couldn't shake. Especially after everything else we've been through."

  "Well, thank goodness, that part's all over. We have other things to think about and take care of now."

  "Oh yeah? Like what?"

  "Like you getting some clothes on. You have company coming."

  Company? Oh, great.

  “Sis, I don't think I could face anybody today. Not after what I've been through. The ordeal was bad enough, and the questioning at the police station last night…" I shivered. Even in the light of day I couldn't shake how utterly alone and helpless everything had seemed in those moments when I thought all was lost. "Can't you just beg off for me?"

  "Not hardly, it's your Knight in Shining Armor. And you owe him. Big time."

  Knight in shining armor? "Antonio?"

  "Yep, after he brought you home, he spent the night here, sleeping in the chair. He refused to go home last night."

  Hmm. That was awfully sweet. "I hardly remember anything after the sedative they gave me. Was I loopy?"

  "Yeah, a little," she laughed. "You kept kissing his cheek and thanking him, even after he put you into bed. You held onto his hand and made him promise not to leave."

  Oh God, I did? Now I was feeling embarrassed, even though I didn't remember a bit of it.

  "Don't look so stricken! He told me he wouldn't have left anyway. I think his words were something like, 'They'd have to haul me off and lock me behind bars first' or something like that. I gave him blankets and he camped out in the living room. He only left about thirty minutes ago, to go change and pick up something he said he needed."

  "So, he's coming back?" I asked.

  "Yes. He wants to talk. There have been some other developments you should know about."

  "What developments?"

  "I'll let him tell you." She pushed away from the table. "Now, go get dressed, and be quick. Unless I miss my guess, that's his knock I'm hearing at the door right now."

  Yikes. The last thing I wanted was for Antonio to see me in my ratty old robe.

  "Keep him company, will ya, Sis? I'm going to grab a quick shower." Lord knows I needed one after the last couple of days.

  ***

  I kept thinking about what Maria had said as I towel-dried my hair. Out of all the things that had happened, my drug-induced request for Antonio to stay was probably the least significant, even if it was the most personally embarrassing. I kept telling myself that he would understand, and that it was nothing. But somehow, that didn't make me feel any better about it.

  The shower was lovely, and I luxuriated in the warmth of the water rushing down my skin. I knew they were waiting for me, but I took the time to trim my ragged nails. Maybe I was just putting off the inevitable, but it made me feel more presentable, and it helped to get rid of a reminder of those terrifying hours in the casket.

  I slipped into a clean T-shirt and jeans, brushed my damp hair back into a ponytail, and slipped on my loafers. The smells coming from the kitchen reminded me just how hungry I was.

  "Hey you two," I said, pulling out my chair at the table and giving Antonio my brightest smile. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Little electric tingles warmed my skin.

  "It's good to see you up and about, Cara," his worried eyes searched my face.

  "What?" I asked him.

  "Nothing, I'm just really glad to see you."

  "Me too."

  "Here Sis, you must be famished." Maria handed me a tray of grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, then handed me a cup of soup.

  "My God, these smell delicious."

  She laughed, handing a cup of soup to Antonio." I hope you like tomato vegetable," she smiled.
"I love making soup from scratch."

  "Thanks for inviting me. It's nice to eat someone else's cooking occasionally."

  I wondered if this man cooked for himself, or if he was talking about his house staff. Or just being nice. But for the moment it didn't matter. I filed it away as a question to be asked later.

  "Maria said you wanted to talk?" I asked. "And by the way, where's Thompson?"

  "I gave him the day off. He deserved it after everything that happened yesterday… and last night."

  I shivered involuntarily, remembering the bright burst of light, terrified it might be Walker. And the incredible relief of hearing Thompson's welcome voice instead.

  "I want to thank him properly. I don't even have words to describe how it felt to hear his voice. After everything: the darkness, the isolation, the sheer terror… " Tears welled in my eyes.

  "That's okay, Sis. He knows. I thanked him for you last night," Maria said shyly. "None of us felt like sleeping. We'd all been through the ordeal in our own ways. So we sat and talked for a couple hours before he left."

  I looked at these two, the most important people in the world to me, and my tears threatened to overflow. How could anyone be luckier than me?

  "Are you feeling up to talking about a few things?" Antonio asked. "Last night you were a little…."

  "Loopy?" I offered, grinning shamefaced as I wiped away the tears. "I hope you'll ignore anything I might have said after the sedative took effect. Maria said I was going on…"

  He laughed. "I thought it was quite sweet, but I understand. Consider it forgotten."

  I bit into my sandwich, and the flavors exploded into my mouth. It was amazing what a day without food could do to your taste buds. "Maria, I love you!" I managed.

  "Of course you do, now hush and let the man talk."

  Antonio took a sip of his soup. "Excellent," he said, nodding to Maria. "Angela, you probably didn't realize it, but you provided us with a key piece of evidence in this money laundering case."

  "I did?"

  "Remember those photos of yours from the cruise that I took home with me?"

  I thought back to the day he'd stopped in to see us. I nodded.

  "You were excited about something." So excited you kissed me as you left. How could I forget that?

  "Do you remember the photo you took of the people sitting at the open air tables?" he asked as he reached for a sandwich.

  "Only vaguely. I'd gone ashore to have a drink with that author. And we'd been talking about photographs and capturing the light. On the way back, I'd found the little town so charming that I wanted to remember it. And to bring back some images you might use, Maria."

  "So you didn't notice anything—or anyone—of significance?"

  I shook my head. "No, we'd been talking about artistic perspective, and framing the images in photographs and paintings."

  "By the time I saw your photos, the D.A.'s office was already well on its way to collecting the evidence we needed against Walker. But one of your photographs provided an important new link. You'd already met several of the players in their not-so-little scheme by then. Do you remember Carmianti? And Tamblin?"

  How could I forget those two? "The slimy guys at the meeting, just before the cruise."

  He laughed. "You nailed it. They were providing the actual funding for the money laundering. Walker's position in the mortuary business made it easy for them to pass money through the Children's Academy. He would provide names of people who were recently deceased, listing them as donors to the Children's Academy. Then Carmiante would generously provide matching funds."

  "But isn't that a good thing? I mean, I'm sure the Children's Academy could certainly use the money."

  "Well, that would be true, if the money stayed in the Academy. But the money was never actually intended for the children or the Academy. It was just being funneled through. They were transferring all kinds of illegal funds—from drugs, prostitution, gambling, you name it.

  "The money passed into circulation through the 'donations' to the Academy, supposedly made from people who were dead and buried. The money was pushed back out as payments to 'consultants' and businesses, for services and goods that were never performed or received. So the Academy was just a detour for its real destination, which of course was right back into the hands of the people who gathered it in the first place.

  "That's why they call it 'laundering'—if they can get into a funnel like the one they set up using the Academy, then it comes out looking 'clean' and legitimate. This way they fly under the radar, avoiding things like taxes, regulations, and the other laws that every legitimate business has to deal with. If they're particularly clever, they can move enormous amounts of money and no one's the wiser."

  "Okay. But how did my photograph help?"

  "We suspected money was going to some of the local politicians, but we couldn't find a direct link to any one of them in particular. Without realizing it, you gave us that connection. Among the tourists at the outdoor café were two people who swore they didn't know each other. Except, in the photograph they were not only sitting at the same table, they were shaking hands."

  "From the news article, I'm guessing Cartoli was one. Who was with him?"

  "You had already met the other man. It was Tamblin. You may not have recognized him, but that hairline of his is unmistakable to anyone who's spent any time around him. And yes, the other man was Lorenzo Cartoli. We knew he had connections with some of the people who were involved in the money laundering scheme, such as Walker and Carmiante. Of course so did a lot of other people, including other politicians. But until I saw your photo, we’d never been able to prove any direct link between him and Tamblin."

  "I didn't even realize who Lorenzo Cartoli was on the cruise until after we got back and I saw the newspaper article about the large donation," I told him. "I had never met him, so I guess that's not too surprising."

  Then I remembered the revelation I'd had in Walker's office. "When you had me sit in at the meeting, there was a weasely little man sitting at the end of the table. He kept fiddling with his digital tablet, which I thought was odd. Well, when he shook hands with me at the end of the meeting, I noticed a face on the screen. It was only a quick glance, because he slid the tablet away when he noticed me looking at the image. But there was something about the man that would have made him instantly recognizable, if I had ever seen him before. He had an unmistakable scar near his left eye. It was a large discolored blob."

  "Cartoli." Antonio looked at me. "And you're sure that's who you saw?"

  "Yes, the scar wasn't visible in the newspaper photograph when I first learned about him. See, it was the same as this one," I pointed to the article Maria had shown me earlier. "But it was obvious when he turned his face toward me at the gallery. I didn't put two and two together until I heard his name while I was eavesdropping in Walker's office."

  "That's very interesting. Maybe a little circumstantial, but your photograph nailed it. And it helped us nail him."

  "Good," I told him. "I’m glad. And you can thank Maria for insisting I take my camera." I smiled at her. She'd been awfully quiet during our conversation, watching the two of us with intense curiosity as Antonio shared the details.

  "Would you like more soup, Antonio?" she asked as the conversation slowed down.

  "No, thank you. It was delicious, by the way." Then he paused, looking directly at her. "I think we need to let her in on the secret."

  Secret? "What secret?" I asked, staring from one to the other of them.

  "You should do it," said Maria. "I wouldn't know where to start."

  "What secret?" I repeated, my heart starting to pound a little more heavily.

  "Okay," Antonio said, turning toward me and taking my hand.

  "Angela, when you were missing, I became painfully aware of how much you've come to mean to me." He paused, looking over at Maria. "I also realized that I'd been keeping some things from you, from both of you. Things I should have told you
long before now. So I came to see Maria, hoping to explain."

  I looked away from him, toward Maria. She sat there, smiling her big sister smile. I couldn't tell if that was good or bad. "What things?"

  Maria looked at Antonio and so did I. "Would you like me to tell her?" she asked him. He shot her a grateful glance, nodding.

  "Angela, ‘Uncle Benito’ is Antonio's father." Antonio's father? Uh Oh.

  "Then we're… related?" I asked Antonio in confusion.

  "No," he said. "Yes," Maria said.

  I looked at each of them. "Well, what is it, Yes or No? It can't be both."

  "Here, let me, please," Maria said. Then turning to me, she continued. "Uncle Benito is Antonio's father. Antonio promised Uncle Benito that he would continue to send us money, to kind of watch out for us. That's why the Christmas cards have continued, and why I got the college fund, bless his heart."

  "Okay. But why did you say 'Yes' when I asked if we were related?"

  Maria looked at Antonio, who gave her a small nod.

  "Sis, apparently Uncle Benito is my father also. It happened a long time ago, before our folks were married. When Antonio told me, I didn't know what to think. But I wanted to find out if it was true. So I checked with Mr. Conner, and he reluctantly told me about the birth certificate you found. That's when I knew it must be true. Everything fit. It seems that Dad—Jack—adopted me when he married Mom. Sis, Antonio and I are related. But he and you are not. Except through me." She smiled at that.

  "Why did you keep this secret?" I asked him, suddenly angry. "Weren't we good enough for you? I mean obviously you knew about us… "

  "Granted, it's a bit unconventional." He held up his palms as if trying to defend himself and placate me at the same time. "But I really never expected to become personally involved with you. I was simply fulfilling my father's last requests by making sure the Christmas cards continued and that Maria got the college money. At least until the day you showed up in my office and challenged everything about my 'old ways'."