Full Speed (7 page)

"Honey, I've only been back three days. Of course I was going to call you, but my little boy has a nasty summer cold and I've been spending time with him. You know I can't count on his mama to see to his care, what with her emotional problems." Suddenly he lost his connection. The lights flickered in his office, not for the first time. He looked up and frowned.

Someone knocked on his door. "Yes?" he called out.

His bodyguard, Ward Reed, peeked inside. He was a tall, angular man with hard eyes and thin lips. Not only did he accompany Harlan wherever the minister went; he saw to home security as well. "Mr. Santoni is here."

Harlan froze.
"Here?
What's he doing
here?"

"I know we've discouraged him from coming to your home in the past, but I suggest we go ahead and let him in this time. I want to know what's so important that he decided to show up at your front door so early in the day."

Harlan sighed. "Greed, what else? I don't like this, Ward." He wiped his brow. "What's wrong with the power? The lights are flashing on and off and the phone just died on me."

"We've got electrical problems. I've already reported it, but it'll take a while for the men to get here. May lose power for a while; the generator will eventually kick in." As if acting on cue, the lights flickered, and the office went dark.

"Just what I need," Harlan said. "I want to meet with a man like Santoni in a dark office."

Ward pulled a cord and the drapes whispered open. July sunlight filled the room. "I'll be here the whole time." He studied the man. "You don't look so good."

"I didn't sleep last night. My mind was racing ninety miles an hour."

"You can't keep this up, Harlan. You look strung out, man."

"You know what touring does to me."

"Yeah, but you're taking way too much medication. You have to take something to make you sleep, something to keep you awake. You need to see a doctor."

"Let Santoni in," Harlan interrupted.

Ward gave the man a long, hard look. Finally, he shrugged. "Whatever you say."

Nick Santoni stepped through the door a moment later with Ward Reed on his heels. Santoni wore a soft dove gray suit that had been shipped directly from Milan, the likes of which could not be purchased in a town like Sweet Pea or Knoxville for any amount. His black hair was perfect.

"Well, well, the lamb of God has returned to his holy mansion on the mountain." He glanced around the dark room. "Did you forget to pay your electric bill?"

Harlan offered him a tight smile. "We're having problems with the power. Were we supposed to meet today, Mr. Santoni? I don't have you listed in my appointment book."

Nick smiled and held out his arms in greeting. "What's this 'Mr. Santoni' business?" he asked. "How many times have I asked you to call me Nick? I like to think we're not only business associates but friends as well. Surely you can spare a few minutes of your time."

"Of course." Harlan's voice trembled.

"By the way, your home is lovely. I had no idea ministers lived so well. You've even got marble pillars in the foyer. I thought you Christians were supposed to store your treasures in heaven." He paused and winked. "Looks like you couldn't wait, buddy."

"What can I do for you?" Harlan asked. He reached for a tissue, mopped his upper lip.

Nick took a chair across from Harlan's desk. Reed sat on the sofa against the wall. "I wish I had good news, my friend," Nick began, "but the family has been putting pressure on me to up your percentage, despite my best efforts to convince them otherwise."

Harlan looked confused. "But we agreed on a cap. We have a gentlemen's agreement."

"Yes, and the Santoni family has always been honorable people, but your situation has changed. Your celebrity status has grown by leaps and bounds in the past few years." He paused. "I'd like to think I am somewhat responsible for your success."

Harlan remained quiet.

"Unfortunately, your fame puts you at a higher risk, and at your current installment, I can't guarantee your protection outside of this state. You could be in serious danger."

Harlan and Reed exchanged looks. "My expenses are already sky-high," Harlan said.

"We're only talking another five percent. I know it sounds like a lot, and I'm very sympathetic to your situation, but my uncle feels strongly about this. There's no changing his mind," Nick added softly.

Harlan pressed his fingertips against his temples but still said nothing.

Nick waited, absently stroking the thin scar that ran from his left eyebrow to his cheekbone, one he'd earned as a wet-behind-the-ears thug who'd gone up against a Jersey gang leader. The surgeon hadn't finished stitching Nick's cut before a jogger found the other man's body in a ditch on the side of a road.

Nevertheless, the scar, while it added a slightly harder edge to Nick's good looks, did not detract from them, and he turned his share of women's heads. Having been groomed for years to be the head of the Santoni family, Nick was polished and carried himself well. He'd lost most of the Jersey accent; he spoke slowly and deliberately and made each word count. He had the look of a banker or corporate attorney.

"You don't look well, Harlan," Nick said.

Harlan rolled his shoulders. "It was a long trip. I ran out of medicine."

Nick reached inside his jacket. He pulled out a small plastic bottle of pills. "Catch." He tossed the bottle, and Harlan lunged at it.

"It'll take the edge off," Nick said, "until I send over the other. I've told you before there is no reason for you to suffer needlessly when I'm only too happy to help."

The lights came on. Harlan straightened in his chair. "I have cooperated with the Santoni family in the past, but this, er, request is unreasonable."

"Now, Harlan," Nick said gently. "The last thing we want to do is create hard feelings between us. The family has always had your best interests at heart."

"We lost the TV network deal," Harlan said. "That was inexcusable."

Nick looked surprised. "Inexcusable? That's a harsh word to use between friends, but then, I know you're not yourself today. The deal simply didn't pan out."

"My portion of the money has not been returned," Harlan said.

Nick looked thoughtful. "Has it not occurred to you that we may have even greater aspirations for you?" he asked. "It would benefit you greatly if you'd learn to become more patient with us. Take the pill, Harlan."

Reed stood and walked over to a cabinet where he poured water into a glass. He handed it to Harlan before facing Nick. "Maybe we could discuss this another time."

"What is there to discuss?" Harlan said. "I can't afford to run a ministry at this rate." He looked at Nick. "Don't you people realize that every time you up your share you take food or medicine away from those who desperately need it? Should I close down all of my outreach programs so the Santoni family can keep getting richer?"

Nick smiled, but it didn't reach his dark eyes. "This coming from a man who lives like he has already passed through heaven's gate?"

Harlan wiped one hand down his face. Finally, he uncapped the bottle, pulled out the tiny pill, and popped it into his mouth. He didn't bother with the water. "I may as well fold up my tents and retire."

The smile on Nick's face faded. "That would be a mistake, Harlan. You're only talking like that because you don't feel well."

"Is there anything else, Mr. Santoni?" Reed said.

Nick nodded. "Yes, and this should be of concern to all of us. Vito Puccini is dead. He did not do the job for which he was hired. Maximillian Holt is still alive."

"I don't want to hear this," Harlan said. "I had nothing to do with it. The less I know the better. In case the police question me."

"The police will never make a connection," Nick said, "but Maximillian Holt will. He's got a reputation for being very cunning; he has contacts that even we don't have." He paused. "And he has disappeared."

"What do you mean he has disappeared?" Reed asked.

"He's no longer in Beaumont, South Carolina."

"Maybe he got scared," Harlan said. "He could have left the country," he added hopefully. "Heaven knows he can afford to live anywhere in the world he likes."

Nick shook his head. "Max Holt is not the type of man to run. In fact, he could be looking for us as we speak."

"Do you know something we don't?" Reed asked, as though sensing there was more.

"I did not hire Vito whatever-his-name-is, and I'm not going to get involved in this sort of thing," Harlan said.

"Relax, Harlan," Nick said. "That's why you pay us. I just want you to be aware of the problem, that's all." When Harlan continued to look concerned, Nick smiled. "Haven't we always taken care of your problems in the past? Better still, we keep your dirty little secrets."

Harlan started to respond when the door opened and a young boy peeked through. He had Harlan's blonde hair. "Daddy play?" the boy asked.

Harlan literally bolted from his chair, grabbed the boy, and stepped outside the door, where his wife raced down the stairs, eyes bright with fear.

"I'm sorry, Harlan. I turned my back for one minute and he

When Jamie opened her eyes she found Max staring down at her. She sat upright on the bed, dragging a sheet to her breasts. "What are you doing?"

Max smiled. "Looking at you."

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know you got the cutest behind I've ever seen."

Jamie snatched the sheet to her chin. "Don't you have anything better to do than ogle me in my sleep, Holt?"

"I was also thinking how peaceful you look when your eyes are closed and your mouth isn't moving. I could get accustomed to your quiet side. And finding you in my bed."

"Where have you been?"

"Taking care of business."

"Which means you're up to something. I know you." She got up and took the steps down. He followed. The clock in the kitchen pointed to eight o'clock.

"You hungry?" Max asked. "I grabbed a box of fresh donuts from the grocery store while I was out. You know how you like donuts."

Donuts. Damn. The man obviously knew how to work her. "I think I'll shower first," she said, hoping to show some self-control. Max grinned, and she knew she'd failed. "Just don't eat them all."

"You might need this." Max reached into one of the grocery sacks and tossed her a bar of soap.

Jamie was surprised to find a bar of scented Dove soap in her hand. She looked at him. "How did you know?"

"I've spent a lot of time in the car with you; I know your scent. I took a whiff of every bar on the shelf, and this is as close as I came. Was I right?"

Jamie was touched. She couldn't imagine a man like Max taking the time to smell every bar of soap in the store in order to find her brand. "Gee, Max, that was really nice of you."

"I keep telling you I'm a nice guy."

"You can be."

Max smiled as she walked away, her shirt barely concealing her behind.

Jamie showered and changed into cutoff jeans and a tank top. Max had already downed two donuts, but that still left her plenty. She peered into the open box. "Oh, there is a God." She started to reach for a vanilla-glazed donut with bright colorful sprinkles, then paused.

"Come on, Swifty, go for the chocolate-covered one," Max said. "You know you want it."

Jamie grabbed it. She took a bite and closed her eyes. "Yum." She opened her eyes and found Max staring. "What?"

"I like donuts, but I'm not sure I like them that much."

"OK, so you know my weakness."

"By the way, I prefer you as a blonde."

"You and me both. But the red wig is a good disguise." She sighed. "The things I do to keep from getting shot."

Fleas came up beside her and sniffed.

"Forget it, pal," Max told the dog. "You've got a better chance of getting a lung." He reached for a brown envelope and dumped the contents on the table. "Your new identification and

Holding her purse in one hand and the red wig in the other, Jamie climbed from her truck. Max and several men stood just outside the garage. Max introduced them. "These gentlemen are here to install Muffin inside the dashboard of the truck."

"What does Muffin have to say about all this?"

"She's raising almighty hell. Threatening to destroy her own hard drive." He paused. "So, if you won't be needing the truck for a while

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Jamie asked.

"We're gathering information as we speak," Max said. "While you've been, um, shopping, Muffin has been hard at work tapping into every resource she can find. She's been e-mailing information to us as she gets it." He paused. "I'm not holding back anything, if that's what you think."

Which explained why Muffin hadn't questioned Jamie when she had returned to the truck after having breakfast with Michael, she thought. Muffin had been preoccupied. And Jamie hadn't offered an explanation because she knew Muffin would say something to Max.

And then Max would interrogate her to the nth degree about Michael.

Jamie was determined to get information from Michael, which was why she had suggested they meet again the following day. But she was going to be careful and subtle about it. Max had his mighty computer and enough contacts to overthrow a small country, but she had genuine empathy for people, and she hoped Michael would sense it and open up. She felt a little guilty about using him when he was grieving and probably at his most vulnerable, but she might be able to help him in the end as well. If she did learn something, if it was something that could put Michael in danger, then she would have reason enough to break her oath and tell Max.

She suddenly realized Max was talking to her.

"... So far we don't have much on Santoni. Other than a couple of photos of him ducking in and out of the courtroom during his trial," he added. "They're not very clear. Also, he wore a beard at the time, so he could look completely different today. He has a number of aliases, which make it hard to get an address or anything else on him.