Chapter Seven

Lorenzo jerked around on the floor, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t free himself. He’d never been so outraged in his entire life. And that was saying a lot. What made it unbearable was that Rico Santos, of all people, had to be the one to find him. He hated that son of a bitch.

“What you doin’?” Rico asked, standing over him, laughing.

Lorenzo mumbled a string of swearwords behind the thick tape on his mouth.

Rico laughed harder. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Lorenzo glared at him. If only looks really could kill.

And just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, Jolly showed up. Jolly and Rico had a good laugh, did some crude speculating on how Lorenzo had ended up on the floor, gagged and bound, in some woman’s house.

Lorenzo fought to free himself. If he could get loose he would kill them both and deal with the ramifications later.

“Oh, hold still, man,” Rico said as he reached down and ripped the tape from his mouth.

It hurt like hell, but Lorenzo would have died before he showed it. He licked his lips. “Cut me loose.”

“Take it easy,” Rico warned, beady dark eyes narrowing as a switchblade appeared in his hand, the long slim shaft catching the light. “You see…” Rico leaned in so close that Lorenzo could smell what he’d had for breakfast “…Mr. Valencia wants us to bring you to him. He’d be upset if we had any trouble with you.”

Lorenzo took a breath and let it out slowly. He would kill Rico. If not today, tomorrow. “Just cut the damn tape,” he said quietly. “My legs are starting to cramp up.”

Rico spun the switchblade in his fingers for a moment, then with a sudden thrust, sliced between Lorenzo’s ankles.

Finally able to straighten his legs, Lorenzo rolled over onto his side and thrust out his wrists.

Rico met his gaze, holding it, while he freed his hands.

Lorenzo rubbed his wrists, staying prone on the floor until Rico finally rose and put the switchblade away.

Jolly offered Lorenzo a hand up. Jolly he would kill quickly. Rico was another story.

“Mr. Valencia is waiting.” Rico’s look said he knew Lorenzo would be coming for him, and he would be eagerly waiting.

Lorenzo couldn’t believe how his luck had gone south. A woman had just kicked his butt. Worse, she’d gotten away. But maybe he could make that work to his advantage. If he couldn’t find Rose Garcia, then neither could Valencia.

And who said she hadn’t gone to meet up with Franco? Nobody.

His cell phone rang. He checked it. Alfredo. “Tell Valencia I’m on my way,” he said to Rico and Jolly. “I need to take this.”

Neither moved.

“He wants us to bring you to him,” Jolly said. “Now.”

Lorenzo swore silently. He didn’t want to take the call in front of these two bozos, but he also could use a little good news right now. And if Alfredo had found Jenna, then that would be good news indeed.

“Yeah?” he said, after flipping open his cell phone.

“Just checking in like you said.” Alfredo spoke in a low monotone no matter what was going on. “Found a gas station northeast of Seattle where she filled up. Clerk remembers her. She didn’t ask for directions or nothing like that, so you want me to keep looking? A lot of wild country out here.”

Lorenzo tried to hide his disappointment. “No, don’t bother. Just come on back and I’ll call you later.” He snapped the cell phone shut and looked at the two men standing in front of him, telling himself he could take them both before either of them knew what hit ’em.

But killing two more of Valencia’s men didn’t seem the best idea right now.

“So what are we waiting for? Let’s go see your boss. I’ll follow you in my car.”

“I think not,” Rico said. “Jolly will bring you back for your car after you see the boss.”

Just the thought of seeing Valencia on an empty stomach made him weak. “Mind if we stop and get breakfast along the way first? I’m starved.”

Rico chuckled. “Yeah, right.”

“We could swing through a drive-up,” Jolly suggested. “I could use a little something.”

“Fast food? Forget it,” Lorenzo said, wondering again what his ex-wife was having for breakfast and where. “I’d rather starve.”

ROSE GARCIA FLASHED her badge at Jenna Dante’s apartment house and got the manager to open up 4B.

The apartment complex was a dump on the wrong side of town. After being married to a man with as much money as Lorenzo, Jenna had definitely taken a financial nosedive.

The manager was a short, squat, middle-aged bald man who smelled of fried onions. His name, according to the piece of paper taped to the door, was Buzz Gerard.

“I got things to do,” Buzz said, scratching him self after he opened the door to Jenna Dante’s apartment.

“So go do them.” Rose stooped down to pick up the newspaper lying in the hall. She checked the date. This morning’s. “I’ll lock up when I leave,” she assured him as she stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind her.

The place was neat and clean, nothing like the apartment complex itself. No sign of a struggle, she thought with relief. Or a break-in.

But it also had an empty, I’m-not-coming-back feeling, just as Rose had feared. The kitchen was clean, holding only a few odds and ends, dishes and silverware, thrift shop stuff.

Rose opened the closet. Empty hangers, some looking as if clothes had been jerked off in a hurry. She checked the daughter’s room. Bed made. Room too neat. The bureau empty just like the closet.

Jenna had cleared out. With the girl? It appeared so. But where had she gone? And why?

Something must have spooked her.

Lorenzo, Rose thought. He’d sure as hell scared her.

Rose picked up the phone and checked caller ID. Jenna hadn’t received many calls. The most recent one was from Flannigan Investigations. Interesting. Rose jotted down the other numbers, then checked the numbers Jenna had called. One stopped her cold.

Raymond Valencia? Why would Jenna call Lorenzo’s boss?

Rose searched the rest of the apartment but didn’t find anything to indicate where Jenna had gone. Clearly, however, she wasn’t coming back.

Every instinct told Rose that Jenna Dante was in over her head. Maybe in more trouble than Jenna knew, if she was involved with Raymond Valencia.

RAYMOND VALENCIA WAS IN his greenhouse when he heard Jolly and Rico return. Rico had called to say they were bringing Lorenzo Dante with them.

Picking several of the finer tomatoes for lunch, Raymond left the greenhouse, the one place he found any kind of peace.

In the kitchen he gave the tomatoes to the cook, then found Jolly and Rico waiting in the den. Lorenzo had made himself at home in one of the leather chairs by the fireplace. He was slumped down a little, an ankle resting on his knee, his hand fiddling with the tassel on his Italian loafers as if he was bored. Or nervous.

He stopped fiddling the moment Raymond walked into the room. Nervous, Raymond decided. Very nervous. What had Lorenzo done? Raymond hated to think. He motioned for Jolly and Rico to leave them alone.

As the door closed behind them, Raymond took a chair facing Lorenzo. Crossing his legs, leaning back, hands in his lap, he imitated the other man’s comfortable composure. Only Raymond really was relaxed.

“Don’t you think it’s time you told me what’s really going on, Lorenzo?” he asked quietly.

Lorenzo pretended not to understand.

“What were you doing at Rose Garcia’s house?”

“Just trying to help find Franco for you.”

Raymond nodded. “When I talked to you last night you said you didn’t know Franco’s girlfriend’s name.”

“This morning I realized that Franco had left his cell phone on my bar.”

Raymond lifted a brow. “I thought Franco refused a drink last night.”

“He did.” Lorenzo had begun to sweat. “But I was behind the bar, so he came over to lean against it.”

“Did he use the phone while he was there?”

Lorenzo seemed to consider that. “Not that I know of. But I had to leave the room to get the money. He could have called someone.” He shrugged.

“Do you still have the phone?”

Lorenzo reached into his pocket, pulled it out and got up to hand the cell phone to him.

“You checked numbers dialed, right? That’s how you found Rose Garcia?”

Lorenzo nodded. “I called the number this morning to make sure she was home.”

“Why didn’t you call me and tell me about this?”

“I thought I would find her, maybe get your money back and save you the effort.”

Raymond smiled. “That was thoughtful of you.” It was the weakest defense he’d ever heard. As if Lorenzo Dante cared about anyone but himself. So how would finding Franco’s girlfriend benefit Lorenzo?

“I understand this woman, Rose Garcia, got away?” Raymond asked.

Lorenzo nodded, looking sheepish. This, at least, appeared to be genuine. “She knew karate or some defense thing.”

“Where is your ex-wife?”

Lorenzo’s head jerked in obvious surprise. Raymond glimpsed panic in his eyes. “Why…what…why would you ask about Jenna?”

“Is there any reason she would leave town?”

Lorenzo blinked. “What makes you think she left town?”

Raymond said nothing.

Lorenzo’s eyes widened. He shifted in his chair. “You think she ran off with Franco?” He looked dazed by the idea. “Jenna and Franco? You think they’re together?”

The thought had never crossed Raymond’s mind. “I thought you found Franco’s girlfriend, this Rose Garcia woman.”

“I guess I was wrong,” Lorenzo said. “Jenna and Franco. Who would have known?”

Raymond tried to picture Jenna with Franco. Impossible. And yet Franco was gone with a bagful of money, and Jenna wasn’t answering her cell phone.

And yet what bothered him wasn’t how quickly Lorenzo had latched on to the idea but how he was taking it. Too calmly.

“That son of a bitch,” Lorenzo spat, as if it had just sunk in. Or he’d just realized his reaction wasn’t the right one. “I’m going to kill that bastard when I catch him.”

“Not until I get my money,” Raymond said, watching Lorenzo. This was all messed up. He couldn’t have been that wrong about Jenna. Franco wasn’t her type. But there had been a lot of money in that duffel. If Jenna had run off with Franco and the money, then it was out of desperation to get away from her ex-husband. Somehow this always seemed to come back to Lorenzo.

“I’ll take care of it,” Raymond told him. “I don’t want you involved.”

“But it’s my ex—”

“Yes, it’s your ex, exactly,” Raymond said, cutting him off. “That’s why I don’t want you involved.” He settled his gaze on Lorenzo. “You’d better hope this doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“What?”

“If you’re behind what is going on—”

“What? I’m responsible for Franco as well as a woman who divorced me?” Lorenzo looked angry as well as offended. “I let her divorce me just like you told me to. I even let her take my kid. How could I have been nicer to her?”