Hunting April (3 page)

A phrase popped into Glennon's head and he rubbed his chin.
Curiouser and
curiouser, cried Alice.

* * * * *

Glennon tapped on the bedroom door; his patient was awake. He settled on the edge of the bed. "Here you go, another course of antibiotics. Two caps, twice a day, for ten days. Trust me on this. It works." He handed her a glass of water and the meds.

She felt flustered again. "If you tell me how much I owe you . . . ."

"No need, April Hall. I stockpile the stuff."

"No, really . . . let me . . . oh." She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap.

"How did you find out?"

"Which part of security and surveillance didn't you understand? It's my job. I couldn't keep clients if I didn't do my job."

He smiled at her. It was a great smile, and she hoped he didn't turn out to be a total dickhead. It would be a crying shame if he did.

She sighed, feeling even more fragile."So, you know Angelo?"

"Ms. Hall, not to put too fine a point on it, aren't you engaged to the man?"

About to speak, she shook her head instead.

"I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

She straightened a bit, returned his gaze. "And you're sure I need help? Believe me, you do
not
want to be involved. Anyway, why would you want to help me? You don't even know me. No one in his right mind crosses Angelo."

"Let's just say I'm a champion of the underdog. Why is Martone after you?"

"Why were you carrying his brochure?"

"Is that what spooked you this morning?"

"You didn't answer me. Why the brochure?"

"Okay, I answer one, then you answer one. Seem fair?"

He waited . . . and waited . . . until she finally nodded.

"Martone approached me about taking him on as a client. Apparently, he feels he has security issues. Knowing the firm that did the original set-up, I wasn't surprised that there were glitches in the system. I hadn't decided if I was interested."

"Are you?"

"That's not the deal. One question for one question."

She twisted her fingers in the edges of the comforter.

"Look, there are only the two of us here. I promise I won't hurt you."

She dropped her chin to her chest. "Yeah, right. Angelo promised not to hurt me."

"And?"

She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.
Oh boy, here we go
."He drugged me, blackmailed me, burned my books—then he tried to stab me through the heart with my own fucking letter opener."

* * * * *

"He did
what
?"

"Angelo had just hired a big badass bodyguard as my escort, which totally pissed off his goony squad of rejects. Odd accent, sounded Scottish, if you can believe it.

Daniel drove me to the bookstore, then home. Yeah, right, home. Some home. More like a fancy prison decorated in Early Sicilian Vengeance. Going to the bookstore had become the only activity I was permitted. And only with an escort. When I got back to the estate, Angelo had flipped out, destroyed my book collection. I . . . I . . . guess I kinda freaked." She covered her face with her hands.

Glennon schooled his expression into steady and nonreactive
. Daniel? Scottish?

Can only be Wyndsor. Working for Martone? I'm not buyin' it. Can't be the same guy
.

"Okay, easy now. Take your time." Dealing with emotional women wasn't his forte.
Please don't let her cry
. "You're protected here, really."

April sniffled, then nodded. "He flew into an unholy rage. Kept screaming that my books took too much of my time when I should be paying attention to him.
Only
to him. He'd torn the pages, threw them in the blaze he'd started in the fireplace. Even my first edition Beatrix Potters."

The hand wringing escalated as her agitation increased. "He went berserk. I couldn't stop him. He choked me. His eyes were like, totally glazed over. I thumbed him in the side of the throat, got away. That's when he went totally bat-shit. Grabbed the letter opener from my desk, tried to stab me through the heart. Ranted and raved, swore he would do it.
Right through your fuckin' cold heart, you stupid bitch!
I managed to duck him. Didn't know he caught me with the blade until later."

She took a really deep breath, slowly exhaled, before she could continue. "Never mess with us farm kids. I kicked him in the balls as hard as I could. When he went down, I bashed him over the head with a bronze Peter Rabbit my grandmother had given me." She finally turned her gaze directly at him. "I've been checking the news to see if I killed Angelo. I could be a fugitive. His family has big bucks, lots of influence.

Y'know, family as in
family
. You could be in big trouble, hiding me here."

Glennon stood, legs spread, arms folded over his chest. "Trust me, he's not dead.

He's mighty pissed off—now I know why—but the situation is still in-house. Number one, you humiliated him. Number two, you got away. And, yes, everyone in metro law enforcement knows about
la famiglia
. Let me worry about the legalities of harboring a potential fugitive. So far, I can't see that you're guilty of anything except having common sense and a strong degree of self-preservation."

"And you know all this, how?"

"Darlin', my business depends on staying current with such issues. I follow the chatter. Big news like Angelo Martone being taken out would be making the rounds like wildfire, with locals jockeying for position. Just be thankful you didn't run afoul of his uncle. In his younger days, Tony M made Angelo look like a Boy Scout. I hear that the old man's mellowed somewhat over the years, but I wouldn't make book on it."

Her cheeks were still flushed, but her beautiful eyes were bright and clear.

Striking. Glennon felt a stiffening behind the zipper of his jeans.
Okay, not appropriate
behavior
.

"I see. Therefore, the disguise. And the fear. Actually, you've done fairly well for a rookie out on the streets for the first time. At least your eyes match again. I don't know what we're going to do about your hair. Hmm. I do know a
fab
ulous stylist.

Roberto may be able to do damage control. He'll consider you a challenge. He adores a challenge."

April's reactions were immediate and transparent. The jump in her level of panic was obvious. "That's not a good idea. My real hair color is too easy to spot. Mom always said I couldn't decide whether to be a redhead or a blonde, so my hair is a bit of both. In streaks. My eyes are weird, too. Green with hazel stripes. I really need new contact lenses."

"April, if I may call you April, there's no reason for you to hit the streets again until we sort this out. You're secure here, for as long as you want to stay. Feel free to camp out in the guest room."

"Mr. Garrett, you've done so much already. Trust me, you don't want to be mixed up in this mess. As soon as I find a way back to Chino—a way that Angelo can't track—I'll be gone."

"Chino? Is that where you're from?"

She cocked her head. "Let's not play games, all right? I'm not an idiot. I'm sure you know everything about me by now. Angelo prides himself in only hiring the best, so you must be top shelf, extremely good at your profession."

He shrugged. "Trying to make you feel comfortable in an uncomfortable situation."

"I'll make it easy for you." She ticked off items on her fingers."Parents, Meredith and Alan Hall. Merrygirl Organic Nursery and Farm Market, Chino, California. Raised as a happy, barefoot, farm kid with a great mom and a great dad in a small, stable, family-oriented community. Tons of kids with whom to pal around. No skeletons in any closets. No trauma or calamities. I just dreamed of seeing the rest of the world.

Went to college out there, attended a job fair on campus, got a dream gig in New York City right out of school. Totally lucked out, found a great little apartment that I could afford. New friends. A social life that didn't involve discussions about milk goats and organic fertilizers."

He took a leap. "Why didn't you just fly home? Why put up with Martone? Your family must be going crazy, worrying about you. If you're short of cash, I'd be glad to front you the ticket money."

She did it again, flashed her deer-in-the-headlights look.

"April, no need for alarm. I'm just saying . . . ."

"My parents don't know I'm missing. At least, not yet."

"Why not?

She glanced around the room at first, obviously trying to decide how much to tell him. Then, hands folded on her lap, she looked like a kindergarten kid waiting for justice to be meted out by the principal.

"Antonio took my laptop when he took my cell phone, my ID, my cards. He locked everything in his desk. When I had a chance to connect to the Internet, y'know, after I ran away, I found e-mails in my Sent box. E-mails that I never sent. He'd been emailing my parents, pretending to be me. The last message said that we were taking off for a few weeks to the French Riviera, will call when I arrive back home."

"Damn. How often were you in touch?"

"We spoke every weekend, and e-mailed during the week. Jokes, Maxine cartoons, ridiculous news reports, stuff like that. Nothing of earth-shattering importance."

"So, they have no clue what's going on."

She shook her head."I don't think so. Mom didn't warm up to him, but Dad thought he was a good guy. Well, at least he thought he was a generous guy."

"Sounds like your mom has good instincts. Do you want to call them? I can give you a secure line."

He was startled at how quickly she grew more wide-eyed and panicky.

"N-n-no. No, not yet." She wouldn't meet his gaze.

Okay, what's going on, I wonder? What else has that bastard done?

She sniffled again. "There, now you know the story of my life. All of it."

Hmm. Obviously not the
whole
tale
. "And then . . . Martone?"

A look of pain crossed her face. "Please, can we not discuss this? I have a pounding headache. I'd like the license tag of the bus that ran over me. I'm wiped out.

This was the first real sleep I've had in . . . well, quite some time. If you're serious about your guest room, I'll take you up on the offer. At least for tonight."

Hmm. No explanation of the drugging and blackmail thing, but she seems too fragile to
push right now
.

"April, I don't make offers unless I'm serious. I took the liberty of moving your bags while you were snoozing. You have your own bathroom, too." Glennon headed for the door. "Make yourself comfortable. I have work downstairs that needs finishing.

Don't be alarmed if you hear noises. I wander around at all hours."

"Thanks. Really."

He nodded, then pulled the door closed behind him.
Let's see what else you may
have buried, April Alicia Hall
.

Friday morning, early

Screams ripped through the apartment like the shriek of a wild animal. Glock in hand, Glennon crouched at his bedroom door before going through, then padded silently to the source of the cries. He cautiously opened the guest room door.

April thrashed under the bedclothes, the screams reduced to whimpers.

He clicked on the reading lamp. The Glock was too heavy to stay in his waistband, so he placed it on the bed within reach. April lay face down in her pillows, still lashing out.

"April, whoa, knock it off, you're going to hurt yourself." Desperate to stop her, he grabbed the edges of the bedspread, trapped her against the mattress so she didn't do any more damage to herself.

"
No
. . .
no
. . . !"

"April, it's me, wake up . . . it's Glennon . . . Glennon. Garrett. Remember?"

The struggling eased a bit.

"Mr. Garrett?" The pillows muffled her voice.

"Yeah, it's me. You're okay, you're fine now, you had a bad dream. I'm here.

You're safe."

She quieted down, stopped struggling. He knew he'd need to check the wound again.

"Hon, I'm going to let go of the blanket, but I need you to stay still for a moment, all right? Don't twist around, or you'll be bleeding again. Okay?"

"Uh huh, okay." Still tense, but no longer flailing.

She'd changed into a sleeveless tank top with thin little straps and hip-hugger panties for bed. When Glennon folded the bedclothes back, he saw that her top had ridden up her back.

"Sweet Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell?"

Pale stripes, some reddened, some still pink, crisscrossed her flesh, from shoulders to waist. The shallow slices appeared only recently healed, some of them barely closed. Exposed, April struggled to turn over, but Glennon's strong hands held her in place until she lay still. He lifted her shirt to the back of her neck, then pulled the blankets down to her ankles. Crosshatched scars covered her from her shoulders to the backs of her thighs.
Someone's been clever. Scars that won't show when she's dressed and out
in public
.

He finally released her.

Heeding his warning, she turned carefully onto her back, then pulled the sheet to her chin.

"What the fuck is going on, April? Are you into serious kink? Something I should know about?"

She couldn't meet his gaze; her glances darted around the room."You weren't meant to see. No one was ever meant to see."

Furious at the signs of abuse, he took the handgun from the bed, stared at it for a long moment, then placed it on the dresser. "Martone?"

April pulled the sheet up to her eyes.

"April, don't fuck with me. Is that Martone's handiwork?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

Wordless, she shook her head.

"April—"

She mumbled behind the edge of the sheet. "Because."

"Woman, I'm in
no
damn mood to play twenty questions. Would you rather I turned you over to the cops? I'm sure the detectives at the Sex Crimes Unit would
love
to get their hands on this. Throw in the Martone family connection for good measure, and you'll be the authorities' new best friend."