by Gina LaManna
“Vivian, come with us,” I said.
She looked first at the intimidating bodyguard, still as stone next to her. “No. I want to stay with Joey.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” I asked gently. “Come get your hair redone, and your makeup.”
“No,” she said again. “I’m staying with Joe. Is it true, Joe? Do you still love me?”
“With all my heart, Vivian Poo. I love you, baby.” Joey had one foot in a pair of jeans that looked like they might fit Alfonso better than him.
“Then I ain’t leaving,” she said.
“It’s fine,” Anthony said. “Let’s go.”
“What’s your take on this?” he asked as soon as we found a quiet corner in the hallway. There was a potted plant that gave us some nice privacy. I hadn’t remembered it being there before, but I’d been quite busy, in my defense. We stood behind the plant and talked in hushed voices.
“The kid didn’t do it. He thinks he’s a hot shot, but it was all a stupid misunderstanding. What was that whole thing with Joey?”
“My guys were looking around outside and they found a few odd things, and after a closer inspection, they believe some of the items may have been left behind by either Kiki or her kidnappers. For example, the bathrobe tie.”
“That’s all you found?” I asked. I swatted a branch from the fake tree behind me. One of the leaves had drooped and was annoyingly tickling my neck. “I mean Joey was missing his, but it also could’ve been anyone else’s.”
“Yes, but not everyone uses coconut scented body tanner, and not everybody uses coral pink lipstick with Lusty Lavender lip liner.”
I looked up at him with an astounded expression. “Wow, sir. That’s a higher level of detail than I expected from you in such categories.”
Anthony closed his eyes for a long moment. “Vivian confirmed both. I happen to have a mind for details, which makes me good at my job.”
“Right-o. Lusty Lavender, then.” I couldn’t help winking. “Anyway, did you find anything else, besides that?”
“This, but it doesn’t mean much to me. Anything to you?” Anthony took out a wrinkled slip of paper.
I smoothed it out, noticing it contained a laundry list of TO DO items. There was a header on the page, but it was smeared and difficult to read.
The list contained two items:
-Tickets to Vegas
-Change names on Honeymoon
I squinted at a semi-smudged headline.
“Does that look like wedding to you?” I asked.
“No, it looks like weeding.” Anthony squinted also. “That can’t be right. Must be wedding.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “I have to check on something.”
I burst downstairs, passing my chubby child-spy friend in the hallway who was happily toting two bags of Cheetos. He must have been a good bargainer to come away with that sort of a deal. Especially from someone as cheap as the Printer Nazi.
“Hey, me again. I have to ask you something.” I leaned against the counter, gesturing to my friend, the printer patrol. I realized too late that this was a bit awkward, since I still had a towel wrapped around my sports-bra-covered top and booty-shorts-covered butt.
“What now?” The clerk shook his wide eyed head. “I tell you, your family is something else.”
“If only you knew.” I paused. “So tell me what this cheapskate looked like that printed and dashed.”
“Why do you want to know?” He punched his glasses upwards with a jerk of his thumb.
“Because I think he’s swiping napkins from the reception,” I whispered. I leaned my chest on the counter. “He must have a thing for paper products.”
“Whoa, honey. Not interested.” The clerk waved me off, yelling loudly while glancing steadily at my chest. Then he shiftily took a peek around the lobby and met my head halfway across the counter, dropping his voice to a whisper.
We were nose to nose.
“Let me tell you,” he said. “He was a pumpkin. He’d sat in Planet Hollywood’s spray tan for centuries longer than necessary.”
“Got it, thanks. Same person.” I patted the counter again. “That’s all I needed.”
“But those muscles of his are something else,” he called after me. “The banker pays better, but the muscle man looks better, no competition.”
“Sorry, he’s kind of in a complicated relationship right now,” I yelled back. “But I’ll let you know if things open up.”
“Which one?” he shouted after me.
“Uh, both of them,” I called back.
I sprinted back upstairs to Anthony. “It was Joey. Joey did it.”
I filled him in on the details. Things were starting to add up.
“Joey wanted to stop the wedding. Why he killed Leo, I’m not exactly sure, but it must have something to do with the wedding. And Kiki was obvious—he knew Vivian was looking for every excuse to postpone the wedding, so who better to kidnap than her maid of honor, whom she’d known for two months?” I shook my head. “I mean, that last part about the two-month best friend I don’t get, but do you see where I’m coming from?”
Anthony nodded.
“What are you going to do with him?” I asked.
“None of your business.” Anthony started walking towards the hotel room.
“What? Excuse me?” I yanked on his hand to turn him around, but it didn’t work. He continued to plow down the hall, so I sprinted in front of him and spread my arms wide. “You need to understand something, buddy. I’m part of the Family now. Carlos asked me to find out what happened, and I think I should know. You have to stop treating me like a baby.”
Anthony expelled a very long, extended sigh. “I know you’re not a baby. It is my job to protect you. It’s also my job to protect Carlos and the rest of the Family. What I tell you and do not tell you is for your safety, not because I don’t think you can handle it. Do you understand?”
I nodded, albeit hesitantly.
“It’s a matter of pure professionalism. Why should I treat you differently than any other member of the Family? I’m certainly not mouthing off my plans to Nicky and Giuseppe, or even Carlos, left and right.”
I did a little shrug. “It’s not like I’d tell anyone.”
Anthony gave me a stern, crooked eyebrow raise.
“Fine,” I said. “I guess that makes sense.”
“You did your job, and a good one at that. Now, let me do mine.”
I took a step to the side and let him pass me by. I turned and followed him back to the room, but neither of us was prepared for the mess that lay behind the door.
Chapter 10
“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED here?” Meg asked. She was perched on the bed, drinking some sort of boozy cocktail out of a monstrous souvenir glass. “Must’ve been some party. Thanks a whole lot for inviting me. Not.”
“What the hell is all this? Meg, did you have anything to do with this?” I asked. I rushed forward throughout the chaotic mess—the place where our two captures had been held only moments before.
There were clothes strewn over the beds, tossed on chairs and tottering dangerously from the lamp shade. Anthony’s bodyguard lay unconscious on the bed, his hands folded peacefully over his stomach as if he were taking an extended nap.
The window was open, a breeze blowing lightly through the curtains. Except for Anthony’s security guard and Meg, who was sitting next to the poor unconscious man and patting his face, the room was empty. Anthony flicked open his phone and spoke a stream of incredibly articulate Italian. I heard a few words that I knew were not polite niceties.
“I’m trying to get this guy to wake up, but he’s just plain knackered out. Why didn’t you say you were having a party here? I thought you guys were toast last night after those girls started titty slapping each other.” Meg pinched his cheek. “Wake up, cutie patootie.”
“Meg, I think he was knocked out.” I walked towards him and felt the back of his head. Sure enough, there was
a knot there the size of a golf ball.
“Oh, ouchie! I ain’t knocked anyone out at a party since I left the force.” Meg chortled. “Then again, knocking people out could’ve been one of the contributing reasons that they told me to leave, but who knows? That’s in the past now.”
“Did you see anyone else in here?” I poked around the rest of the room.
“Nope, just his sexy ass.” Meg looked around, shaking her head as if it was quite a tragedy she’d missed the festivities.
“When did you get here?” I asked. “I didn’t even see you come up, and we were right in the hallway.”
“Yeah, see. It was weird. The elevator was broken at floor seven. So the dude at the front desk told us that in order to get to seven we had to go to six and then take the stairs one floor. Turns out the stairs pop out right next to this room, here!”
“The stairs are right next to this room?” I asked, dread hitting my stomach.
“Not the right ones, actually. The wrong ones. I took a little accidental detour, and ended up getting myself a little lost in the maintenance area. But then I figured it all out, and I knew I was in the right place on account of passing Vivian and her fiancé in the hallway with their priest. It’s funny. I never would’ve thought a boring banker would be so orange. I always figured they’d be more white and pasty like cupcake frosting.”
“What did you say?” I was fairly certain my heart had stopped beating. “Orange?”
“Yeah, like pretend tan. Like I need me one of those men, ’specially if they make lots of money and get free tans. Actually, he looked like that weirdo who drove up here with us, Joey. ’Cept this version was dressed very nice in a suit. Would’ve been a dead ringer for Joey, this guy, except Joey doesn’t dress so appropriate. I couldn’t really see his face though, ’cause of a hat.”
“What about the priest?” I asked. “Did he look familiar?”
“No, nope. Not that I remember. But he had one of those white squares taped to his neck, so probably he was the real deal.”
“Oh, God. Oh, no.” I backed against the wall. “Oh no.”
“Anthony.” I turned to him. “We have a problem.”
“Meg, was that redheaded kid with them?” I asked.
“Alfonso? No.” She shook her head. “Haven’t seen that guy for a while.”
A thunk sounded from inside the closet.
I moved closer, gesturing for the other two to listen.
“Back off, Lacey,” Anthony said, an arm extended.
A chink and a thunk sounded from inside the closet once again.
“I’m going in.” I glanced at Anthony and Meg.
“No way, chicken legs. Move aside.” Meg stood up. She cracked her knuckles, then took a deep breath and chugged towards the closet. She was more of a cargo train than an express one, but she reached the door more quickly than I anticipated.
I looked to Anthony. “You’re not going to stop her, but you’ll stop me?”
“She’s on a mission.” He had his hand on a gun.
“So was I.” I jutted a hip out.
“Yeah, but I’ve seen your bicep curls. You are not capable of knocking anyone out.”
Meg punched her palm. “I take that as a compliment, big sir.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine then. Go ahead. Be a show off—”
I gasped as Meg put a foot right through the closet door.
“Meg! Was that necessary? You could’ve hurt someone!” I rushed forward, peeling panels of wood back from the closet. “Couldn’t you have just opened the dang thing?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not hurt.”
“I didn’t mean you.”
“You told me to show off. Anybody can twist a stupid knob.” Meg helped pull back the largest section of door onto the hotel bed. “I ain’t paying for this, either.”
By the time we’d moved most of the door shards out of the way, except for a shower of splinters that lined the floor like pine needles after Christmas, I pushed back Joey’s blue robe that was hanging in the closet. He’d brought it from home, apparently. Behind the folds of fabric, I found Alfonso cowering in the back corner, a towel shoved into his mouth and taped in place, his hands and legs tied together with rope.
He was shaking harder than a leaf in a thunderstorm, and I immediately knelt in front of him and ripped the tape from his mouth, pulling the towel out like a sick magic trick.
Alfonso screamed a profanity, his chin and lips red from where the tape had been stuck moments before. “It never looks so painful in the movies.”
“Nothing is as glamorous as it is in the movies,” I said, giving him what I hoped was a meaningful glance. “Nothing.”
“You gonna be sick?” Meg asked. “Why you looking at him like that?”
“No reason,” I grumbled. “Move this way, kid. I can’t reach the rope. Anyone got a knife?”
“Sugar.” Anthony kneeled next to me and flicked open a very scary looking knife. “You can’t work for the Family and not carry a weapon. You’re asking for trouble.”
“Yeah, well...” I generally felt that I caused enough havoc in the world without a deadly assault weapon strapped to my thigh. It was anyone’s guess what dangers would befall me if I started carrying around guns and knives.
With two quick slashes, Alfonso was pulled to his feet as he rubbed his wrists and ankles gingerly.
I was relieved to see they’d allowed him to pull on a pair of boxers—Joey’s, by the look of the sparkly sequins and “Bite Me” stamped across the back. They’d probably let him dress on account of nobody wanting to deal with a naked, prepubescent ginger kid. I certainly didn’t, and despite my frustration with Joey, I appreciated the gesture.
“Sit.” I directed Alfonso to the bed. “Talk.”
“You’re acting like I’m the bad guy,” he said.
“Well, we thought you were until about an hour ago. And who knows, with this funfest, you still might be. Nobody’s cleared yet.” I scolded him with my pointer finger. “Plus, you wanted us to think you were the bad guy, so you should feel quite accomplished that you’ve attracted the attention of Carlos’s number one head of security. If you can’t tell, he’s a dangerous dude.”
I gave Anthony’s biceps a decent squeeze, impressed by how much they resembled tree trunks, but stopped at the murderous expression that took over Anthony’s face.
“Right.” I cleared my throat. “So what happened?”
Alfonso sighed as if it was painful to remember. “So you two stepped out of the room to whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears—”
The click of a fully loaded gun caught both me and Alfonso by surprise. Meg just crossed her arms and muttered, “’Bout time.”
Anthony held the pistol to Alfonso’s head and the boy turned whiter than I’d thought imaginable. He was even paler than Clay’s skin, which was nearly translucent thanks to the amount of time he spent in front of the computers.
“Don’t shoot,” Alfonso squeaked.
“You want to play games with the big boys?” Anthony asked.
“Uh, n-n-no.” Alfonso shook his head rapidly.
“Then don’t pretend you do, big guy. You think the Family is a game. But it’s not a very fun game when you lose, I’ll tell you that much.” Anthony lifted the gun slightly so that it was directed just above Alfonso’s head.
I looked down and realized my hands were slick with sweat. They shined with a sheen that betrayed my nerves, and I quickly wiped them on my pants. I thought—hoped—Anthony was just messing with the kid to make sure he would tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but honestly I wasn’t sure.
This was a side of Anthony I rarely saw. He was a well-oiled machine: beautiful on the outside, but in a menacing, terrible sort of way. It was beyond clear that Anthony would kill without a moment’s hesitation should someone interfere with the Family. While that dedication and loyalty made him an ideal employee and an admirable addition to the security force, it was the perceived la
ck of remorse that caused my gut to clench and my heart to wonder if he was truly human.
And still, this wonderful, terrible human being played with my emotions in a way I couldn’t explain. Dangerous, forbidden, our relationship felt like we were storm chasers, hunting a thrill as elusive as a tornado and just as deadly.
I brought my thoughts back to reality as I watched Alfonso try to speak, his voice probably frozen with fear.
“Put the gun down,” I said firmly. “He’ll talk.”
Anthony’s face portrayed no emotion. I wondered if he’d heard me.
“Anthony...” My voice was a bit pleading.
“Lace.” His voice was tight and constrained.
Meg stared at both Anthony and me. My hand had reached out, of its own, accord and perched on his wrist, though I don’t remember having moved towards him. Alfonso looked between us, his eyes wide as two globes.
Anthony let out a long breath that escaped in a hiss. His gaze didn’t waver from Alfonso’s forehead, where it seemed he was trying to drill a hole with his eyes. I didn’t take my eyes from Anthony’s face, secretly praying that he’d listen to my pleas.
After what seemed like an eternity, Anthony finished his sigh, took a deep breath, and lowered the gun to his side with a click.
“All right, tell us what happened after we left,” I said, fixing Alfonso with a no-nonsense glare.
“R-r-right. A-a-after y-y-you—”
“Oh relax,” Meg whined. “He’s put the gun down, nothing fun’s happening anytime soon.”
“S-sure.” Alfonso took a moment to compose his nerves. He cleared his throat, and began the story again. “When you left, we were just sitting here on the beds and waiting for you to come back. Joey and Vivian were making lovebird eyes at each other, but me and the big guy were just kind of hanging out quietly.”
Alfonso looked up at Anthony and me, and I gave him an encouraging nod.
He took a shuddering breath. “And then the door opened with a key card. It definitely was a card because nobody knocked. Joey said something like ‘back so soon’? And then this big guy pulled his gun out at the door.” Alfonso jerked a thumb at Anthony’s snoozing guard.