She was simultaneously intrigued and afraid. Then a smile broke out across the man’s face, and he reached out a hand to Nico.
“You made it.”
Nico nodded. “We did.” They shook hands, and Nico turned to Angel. “Angel, this is Locke Montgomery. Locke, Angel.”
She wondered if he’d omitted her last name on purpose. “Hello,” she said, shaking his hand. “Thank you for letting us stay.”
“It sounds like you need a friend,” Locke said. “And I try to be a friend when circumstances allow.”
They followed him down a long tile hall. Angel tried to make out the design tattooed onto his back, but it looked abstract, and she finally gave up. They emerged into an expansive room furnished with patterned rugs, overstuffed couches, and rustic tables and overlooking the ocean. The glass doors opened around a two-sided fireplace split between the living room and a deck that seemed to hover over the cliffs above the sea. A homey but elaborate kitchen beckoned from the other end of the room.
“Nice place,” Nico said, looking around.
“It’s private, and that’s what I need. Sounds like what you need, too.”
Nico nodded. “It is.”
“There’s a security system attached to the property and the house. I’ll show you how to work it before I leave tomorrow.”
“Not because of us, I hope,” Angel said.
Locke flashed her a devastating grin, and she suddenly felt sorry for any woman he turned it on. Was resisting even an option?
“Not a chance,” he said. “I have a job to attend to. But you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”
He showed them to a large bedroom overlooking the water. An enormous canopy bed, draped with sheer white curtains and facing a private balcony, dominated the space. The early morning call from Dante together with the news about David and the long flight to LA had caught up with her. She wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and sleep to the sound of the waves rushing the shore below. But Locke wanted to show them around, and she reluctantly left the room behind.
The house was surprisingly big, shaped like an “L” around a central courtyard planted with red bougainvillea and fragrant jasmine. She thought she spotted lemon trees, and maybe even avocado. She wondered how many gardeners it took to maintain such a large piece of land, unusual for Southern California where the lots tended to be small and crowded.
They continued to the pool area off the living room. At first she thought it had been left to grow naturally, but when she looked closer she could see order under the chaos, could see the careful design that made the pool area blend into the surrounding landscape, scrubby and mountainous and not at all what most people imagined when they pictured California. It was like happening upon an oasis in the middle of the desert.
There was a greenhouse at the back of the property—used to test new strains, Locke said, whatever that meant—and the winding path she’d spotted earlier that led to the private beach below the house. She couldn’t help wondering what Locke did for a living. He was young, probably Nico’s age, and the place must have cost a fortune.
The sun had set by the time they were done. Locke threw three thick steaks on a grill outside, and Angel threw together a salad with contents from Locke’s fridge. He put on music, and they ate on the patio, putting down two bottles of wine between them. Nico filled Locke in on the details of David’s kidnapping, and Angel felt the bottom fall out of her stomach all over again. She was here, in this beautiful place eating this beautiful food, while her brother was scared and imprisoned somewhere in the same state.
She pushed her plate away and took another drink of her wine.
It was late by the time they finished. Locke waved off their offers of help cleaning up, and she and Nico headed to their bedroom at the other end of the house. She could hardly keep her eyes open as he led her to the bed. She sat on the edge of the cushy mattress while he opened the glass door leading to the deck, and a wash of sea air drifted into the room with the sound of the tide rolling in below.
He crossed the room and knelt at her feet, then gently removed her shoes. “Want to shower before bed?”
She shook her head, feeling like a child. “I’m too tired.”
He unbuttoned her jeans, and she lifted her hips so he could slide them off. Then he lifted the T-shirt over her head so she was sitting in her bra and panties. He reached for her feet.
“Lay down, baby.” He swung her legs onto the bed, and she slipped them under the covers.
“Aren’t you coming to bed?” she asked as he tucked her in.
“Of course,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I’ll be there before you know it.”
She closed her eyes and let the warmth of his protection wash over her. She wouldn’t have it forever. But she had it now.
18
She woke to the sound of the ocean, and she lay in bed for a long time, wondering if David could hear it, too. If Nico and Luca were right, they were on the same side of the country, at least.
It was cold comfort. Already twenty-four hours had passed. They had two more days to find something that would lead them to her brother before Dante called again. The thought threatened to make her crazy, and she got up and threw on a sundress before padding to down to the kitchen on bare feet. She could see Nico and Locke talking on the patio, but there was coffee, so she poured herself a cup before joining them.
“Good morning,” she said, lowering herself into the chair next to Nico.
“Morning,” Locke said. “Sleep okay?”
She nodded, feeling a little guilty. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep knowing David was in danger, but her whole body had started shutting down the minute she hit the luxurious bed. She had a vague memory of Nico’s sliding in next to her, of nestling in the crook of his arm just to be sure he was really there, but that was where her recollection of the night ended.
Nico took her hand. “You needed it. You’re not good to anyone dead on your feet.”
As if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. As if he knew how hard it was to eat or drink or breathe—to feel anything good—knowing David was under Dante’s control.
She took a sip of her coffee and looked out over the water. It was late April, and there was a thick layer of cloud cover overhead. No California sunshine for them.
Nico stood. “I’m heading out for my meeting with John.”
“I’ll come with you,” Angel said, setting her coffee cup down.
He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You should stay. He won’t speak as freely if you’re there. And Luca’s supposed to be getting back to us with the results of the search on the words you found in your father’s office. I told him to call you.”
“You did?” Other than Boston, it was the first time he’d trusted her with a piece of their strategy.
“Of course, I did.” He bent to kiss her head. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”
He disappeared into the house, and a few minutes later, she heard the sound of a powerful engine starting up in the courtyard. She looked over at Locke with a raised eyebrow.
“Porsche,” he said.
“Of course.”
She’d stopped being surprised by the level of raw testosterone surrounding Nico. It must be in the water or something; all the men he knew were controlling and possessive. They liked fast cars. They made no apologies for enjoying the power they wielded, even when they wielded that power judiciously. A year ago, a man like that would have been a turnoff. A douchebag, according to the other girls at school.
Now she found that they weren’t as one-dimensional as she would have expected. There was something elemental about them—their desire to protect, to win, to dominate. And maybe there was something primitive about the fact that it turned her on, too. Maybe there was something buried in the psychology of the species, something that couldn’t let go of the survival instinct that had forced man to protect his tribe and had made women seek out that protection.
Did that make her some kind of simpering idiot? A throwback to a time when women were consigned to the kitchen and the bedroom? She didn’t think so. She still wanted things for herself. Still valued her intellect and her ability to contribute.
But damn. She kind of liked these alpha males.
“I have to leave in a bit,” Locke said. “But first I’m going to catch some waves. Want to come down to the beach?”
“Can I get cell service down there?” She didn’t want to miss Luca’s call.
“You can,” he said.
“Okay.”
She changed into her bathing suit, glad she’d thought to bring it, and met Locke in the living room. He looked like a bronze god, his muscled torso exposed over an unzipped wetsuit that hung around his lean hips, a very pronounced “V” pointing downward. She couldn’t think about any man but Nico with lust, but if she’d been able to, Locke would probably do the trick.
They exited through the patio doors and past an open-air shower at the top of the hill. He grabbed a surfboard leaning against the wood that held the shower head and started down the winding pathway.
The sun was ocean was churning gray under the overcast sky, but the air was warm, the breeze gentle. It felt wrong to see the beauty in it when she didn’t know what was happening to David. She was thinking about turning around, waiting for Luca’s call in the house, when Locke spoke.
“Coastal eddy,” Locke said.
“Excuse me?”
“The clouds.” He tipped his head to the sky. “Everyone thinks it’s always sunny in Southern California, but the coastal eddy creates a marine layer that lasts through June. Sometimes into July.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said. “Although I don’t mind it. I’m definitely an east coast girl.”
“Well, east coast girls are hip, I hear.”
She smiled at his Beach Boys reference.
“Yeah, but California girls…”
“… are pretty hot, too,” he said.
She kept walking with him to the bottom of the hill. Staying inside wouldn’t do anything to help David. She would only stare at the clock, count the minutes left to help him. He wouldn’t want her to punish herself that way.
The cove was private, marked at either end by high, craggy cliffs that blocked off the property from surrounding homes and centered by a perfect strip of sand.
“How long have you had this place?” Angel asked, laying down the beach towel Locke had handed her on their way out.
He started pulling up his wetsuit. “About four years.”
She tried to hide her surprise. He already looked so young. How had he been able to afford such a place in a real estate market that commanded millions for even the smallest patches of beach front property?
“It’s really beautiful,” she said. “I’m surprised you leave at all. I’m not sure I could.”
“I’m more or less at home anywhere,” he said, zipping the wetsuit. “But this place does have a special kind of energy, doesn’t it?”
“It does.”
He picked up his board. “Catch you on the flip side.”
She sat on her towel, tucking her phone into one of the corners, and watched him sprint down the beach. She loved Nico. Wanted him like no other. But she wasn’t dead yet.
Leaning back on her elbows, she watched Locke paddle out to deeper waters. He moved effortlessly, catching the waves at just the right moment, maneuvering the board like it was an extension of his body. He looked so free, and for a moment, she had the desire to join him, to coast above the water until the wave deposited her into its depths. Maybe she would learn to surf when this was all over. Maybe David would learn with her. Why not?
After a while she walked down to the water, careful to stay out of Locke’s way. She dove under a big wave and emerged on the other side of it invigorated and refreshed. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed the ocean, how freeing it was to swim and float, letting it carry her like a leaf drifting down a mountain stream. She stayed out for a long time, riding over some of the waves, feeling her stomach lift as they carried her over the sandy ocean bottom, and diving under others, the muffled crash of them breaking overhead.
Locke was already back on the beach when she finally came in.
“Not a sun worshipper, I take it?” he asked as she dried off.
She shook her head. “Not really. It’s kind of boring.”
He laughed appreciatively. “I couldn’t agree more.”
They made their way up the path, and Angel headed to her room to take a shower. She was drying off when her cell phone rang from the bathroom counter. Luca’s name was displayed on the screen. She picked it up.
“Luca?”
“Angel,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“You tell me.” She didn’t want to waste words on small talk.
“Sara ran some searches on “Strand” and “South Bay”.”
“And?” she said, walking naked into the bedroom. “Did she find anything?”
“Yes and no.”
Angel sighed. “Can you be more specific?”
“They’re common words,” Luca said. “Between searches run separately and together, she came up with school, neighborhoods, even retirement homes, from Southern California to Florida to Portugal.”
“Southern California?”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Angel,” Luca warned.
“But if the call came from LA and the piece of paper from my father’s office had words leading to LA—”
“Leading to lots of places,” Luca reminded her.
Angel slipped a bra on around the phone. “Seems like quite a coincidence.”
“I agree, and you can feel free to start with the hits there. I just don’t want you to miss something else that might be important because you’ve already convinced yourself the words are connected to LA.”
“What exactly am I looking for?” she asked, pulling on a skirt.
“I’m going to send you a list of all the hits Sara got. We need you to go through it and tell us if anything jumps out at you; a name, a location, anything that could be connected to you or David.”
“The words might not be connected to us at all,” Angel said. “And I have no way to know if they’re connected to Dante, to where he’s holding David.”
Luca sighed. “I’m not going to lie; it’s a long shot. But it’s all we’ve got right now. And Sara’s going to go over the search results with a fine-tooth comb, cross-referencing them with everything we know about Dante, his history, his family.”
“Okay, she said. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good. I’m sending them to Locke’s computer now. His servers are encrypted. Just ask him to sign you in.”
“Thanks, Luca.”
“You’re welcome.” He hesitated. “How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It seems a little surreal, which is probably the only reason I’m not losing it right now.”
“Shock is a survival mechanism. Use the distance it gives you to work on finding something that leads to David.”
“I will.”
“Talk soon.”
The line went dead, and Angel dropped onto the bed in her skirt and bra. Her reliable numbness faded into the background long enough to allow for panic. Luca was trying to stay positive, trying to keep her positive. But they all knew the truth, even if it was unspoken; if finding David was dependent on connecting three commonly used words to a man she didn’t know, they were screwed.
19
Nico sat in the lobby of Lando Productions for a full twenty minutes before the receptionist—a leggy brunette—showed him into John’s office. He had no way of knowing if it was intentional discourtesy or just more of John’s obliviousness about family protocol, so he took deep breaths while he followed the brunette to an office at the end of a long, carpeted hall.
Angel needed John. And that meant Nico would do whatever it took to get what they could from him.
<
br /> The receptionist opened the door with a smile, then waited until Nico walked through it to close it with a quite click.
John stood behind a modern desk, the streets of Hollywood humming on the other side of the giant window behind him.
“Nico!” he said, coming around the desk with a smile. “So nice to see you.”
“It’s been a long time,” Nico said as they embraced.
John patted his shoulder. “It has.” He gestured to the two upholstered chairs in front of the desk. “Please, sit.”
John Lando was a small man with a soft face and eyes the color of sand. Everything about him was unremarkable, and Nico marveled again that John somehow found himself head of the LA family. It’s true what people said; it really wasn’t what you know, but whom.
Nico took a seat and looked around the room as John made his way back behind his desk. It was more generic than Nico would have expected, with gray carpet and furniture that was obviously expensive but far from inspiring. Framed movie posters provided the only color in the room, and Nico thought he recognized images from John’s last two films.
“So what can I help you with, Nico?” John asked when he was settled.
“I’m looking for Dante Santoro.” Nico had decided to take the direct approach. He had no idea if John was helping Dante in LA, but being direct might throw him off balance enough for Nico to determine if he was hiding something.
“Dante?” John blinked at him.
Nico nodded. “He’s off reservation, has taken a hostage. I need to find him.”
John opened the top drawer of his desk, fidgeted with something inside before closing it and returning his gaze to Nico. “Well, Nico, I’m not really in the know on this kind of thing.”
“I understand,” Nico said. “But the last call from Dante came from LA. I figured if anyone knew anything, it would be you.”
Fearless: Mob Boss Book Two (Volume 2) Page 8