Neighbors and More (High Rise Series) (21 page)

A moment later, he rode the elevator to the fifth floor. The
hallway was blissfully deserted. The tarnished brass number 502 gleamed dully
in the dim light. After donning the surgical gloves, Dante eased the key into
the lock and admitted himself into Carter Morton’s place. A pungent smell of stale
cigarettes smoke made him wrinkle his nose.

Silently closing the door behind him, he stood still
listening for a moment as he scanned the surroundings. The layout of the
apartment looked familiar, a reproduction of his 2102 perched many floors above
this one.

He padded to the narrow kitchen, surprisingly clean for a
bachelor’s pad, without any apparatus on the neat granite counter top—as if it
had never been used. Not even a coffee maker. A cabinet revealed four coffee
mugs and four glasses. Dante didn’t bother searching the others. He retreated
to the living room, passed the dining room table, and headed to the hallway
leading to the bedrooms. Stopping in his tracks, he stared at a closed door, barred
by a yellow tape.

Since the police had been through Steve’s room, Dante ignored
it and ventured into the other room, Carter’s bedroom as spotless as the rest
of the apartment. A laptop sat on a desk. It was on, and the emails page open.

“
Dio mio
.” His pulse raced at the unique opportunity
to browse through Carter’s laptop, but his spine stiffened. Carter wouldn’t
have left his laptop on while at the office for a whole day, which meant he’d
just stepped out for a short errand. “My good luck.” But time was of the
essence now.

Dante sat at the desk, slid the drawers out, one after the
other, and flipped through the various papers. Utility bills, bank statements,
nothing really interesting.

Inside the lower drawer, his hand hit something hard. He
lowered his head and peered at a smaller drawer hidden inside. He jerked it to
get it out and gasped at the sight of three airfare tickets to Las Vegas with
the names of Steve Bairey, Carter Morton, and
Dio mio
...Alexa Partson.

A horrible thought slunk through his brain as he scrutinized
the tickets. They were planning to abduct Alexa. Date of departure: April 12, 7
pm. The day Steve died. Dante took a deep breath and gulped his anger. After
shoving the tickets into his pocket, he replaced the small drawer inside the
other, and closed it.

Determined to learn more about Carter, Dante concentrated on
the opened page of emails and scrolled down to the date Steve died. An email
addressed to Robert Mason, esq. attracted his attention. He clicked on it. “
The
three of us will fly to Las Vegas. Steve will marry the woman on April 12. Be
ready at the Golden Palace Chapel with all necessary papers. We want a quick
ceremony as soon as we arrive around 11 pm.”

A chill ran through Dante’s spine. Here was the proof of
their planned crime. He didn’t have the time to open
all the emails. He riffled
through the more recent and opened the latest one dated last night, addressed
to... “
Dio mio
, Dianna Oliveira.”

His temper flared as he read, “
She’ll be arrested soon
and out of the way. Change of plans. I’m clearing the account. See you in
London on Saturday
.” The day after tomorrow?

Not wasting another second, Dante texted Alexa:
Call Ladd
& cops. Now. Here for Proof
.

He tried a few other emails. They all confirmed that Carter
and Dianna had concocted their plans together. An email sent by Dianna vented
her anger: “
That idiot deserved it. He can’t do a thing right. Now he’s gone
instead of her
.”

And Carter’s response. “
I messed up in the water. I’ll
get her soon
.” Dante’s fingers clutched on the mouse, as he remembered Alexa’s
limp form the day she’d almost drowned.

But Dianna had more brains than both men. “
No time to
waste. Get her gems. Cash the big check and let’s get out of here. The old man
is being a nuisance
.”

No wonder Dianna had tried to incriminate Greg. She wanted
to divert their suspicions to him while she ordered Carter to steal Alexa’s
jewelry. Good thing Alexa had enough foresight to lock up her valuables every
night.

Shaking his head in disgust, Dante glanced at his watch. He’d
lingered too long. “Time to get out,” he mumbled as he pushed the chair to
stand up.

“Too late.” Carter’s frigid tone froze Dante in place. “Stay
where you are. I have a handgun.” The sound of a gun being cocked alerted Dante
to remain still.

“Shit.” His back straightened, and his fingers
surreptitiously covered the cell phone hooked to his waist. His head still, he
punched the number two, Alexa’s programmed number, counted to three, and
stopped the call.

Behind him, Carter came closer. “Put your hands on your
head. Stand up, and slowly turn. One suspicious move and I shoot.”

Keeping his mind alert, Dante turned around. His gaze met
Carter’s icy blue eyes. He understood what Alexa meant when she’d told him she
didn’t like Carter’s eyes. They narrowed and glinted like steel, and then
flickered right and left as if he couldn’t look his opponent in the eyes. Contrary
to his usual neat appearance, a wisp of his hair fell low over his forehead.

Carter came closer, his weapon aimed directly at Dante’s
chest. “Now, keep your hands on your head and back up. Move.” With his gun Carter
directed him out of the room.

Dante took little steps, his gaze never wavering from his
enemy’s face and hands. Would Carter dare to shoot him? Here in his own apartment?

A heavy silence enveloped them as Carter had him back up to
the living room and all the way to the kitchen, until Dante’s back hit the
glass door of the side balcony—a balcony that had no view of the ocean or the Intracoastal,
but only of the narrow driveway leading to the sub-basement garage.

Dante understood the SOB’s purpose and groaned inwardly. He
had no intention of being pushed over the rail. His biceps flexed, but he
controlled his expression and kept his eyes fixed on Carter’s.

A smirk flashed across his enemy’s face, and his eyes
crinkled at the corners. “You’ve been a pain in the ass. But now you’ve helped
me by coming here.” Carter pressed the tip of the barrel into Dante’s chest and
reached behind him with his other hand to open the glass door.

Bunching his muscles, Dante focused on his opponent’s face
and mentally prepared himself. One, two, three. He raised his knee and
connected with Carter’s groin, at the same time, he smacked the hand holding
the weapon, and followed with a punch into the man’s left eye and another at
his right one. Perfect coordination.

With a growl, Carter doubled over. The
Colt
flew up into
the kitchen aisle and dropped onto the marble tiles, releasing a gunshot that
made a black hole in the beige cabinet.

Dante lunged down to grab the gun. Before he could reach it,
a shot hit him in the shoulder and a stiletto heel ground into his hand,
pinning him to the floor. An agonizing pain seared his whole body. He ventured
a glance at his attacker.

“Stay put.” Dianna’s voice had lost its soft lilt. She threw
him a venomous look and aimed a silver pistol at his head. “You’re not getting
out of here alive. Carter, are you okay?” His groan answered her. “Good thing I
heard the gunshot from my condo.” Her heel left Dante’s bleeding hand, and
pushed Carter’s weapon under the oven.

Acutely aware of the gun pointed at him, Dante grunted,
breathing hard to control the ache in his shoulder. He heard her open a
cabinet. What was she looking for? Favoring his arm against his chest, he
lifted a painful eyebrow to follow her moves.

“Carter, you idiot, stop cuddling your crotch and help me open
this bottle.” She was trying to twist the cap of a vinegar bottle with one hand
and her teeth.

What the hell was she up to?

“We’ll make sure he can’t see a thing after this.”

“No,” Alexa screamed from the door. At her shriek, Dianna
turned her head.

Madre de Dio,
why did Alexa come? “Alexa, no.” His shout
jammed in his throat. “Run. Go away.” He scrambled to his knees and cursed
Dianna and his own weakness.

“Bitch,” Greg bellowed from the hallway.

Reassured that Alexa had reinforcements, Dante lurched
forward, clutched Dianna’s legs, and yanked them out from underneath her. She
fell on her back with a loud thump while another shot hit the ceiling before
her pistol slipped from her hand. The bottle of vinegar she was holding smashed
into a hundred pieces on the marble tiles, and the acrid liquid sloshed
everywhere, on their clothes and the tiles, but thankfully not into his eyes.

A copper pan in her hand, Alexa ran into the kitchen, and
hammered the cooking utensil against Dianna’s head.

“Carter,” Dante grumbled. The bastard had kicked Dante’s bleeding
arm, and grabbed his
Colt
from under the oven. “Alexa, duck,” Dante
screamed, his head exploding from the ache in his shoulder, but his eyes
focused on the gun his enemy aimed at Alexa.

“No.” Greg’s terse voice was followed by a gunshot. Carter
collapsed.

“Stop. Police.” Detective Ladd’s thunderous order filled the
rooms. Pandemonium broke out as a dozen policemen stormed the apartment. “Handcuff
them all. We’ll talk later,” Ladd ordered. In a split-second, Dianna, Greg, and
Alexa were restrained, pulled out of the kitchen, and lined up in the living
room.

No one had touched Dante. They must have noticed the blood
oozing from his right shoulder and hand. From the corner of his eye, Dante saw
Carter sprawled on his stomach, a cop holding a gun to his still form. Dante
wondered if his enemy was dead or alive after Greg had fired at him.

A buzz of protests reached him.

“Hey, we’re the victims,” Greg bellowed before anyone could
recover enough to talk. “Stop that nonsense. I’ll report the abuse.”

“Greg, my love. Look at what this bitch did to me,” Dianna
wailed. “Help me.”

“Go to hell. I don’t know why you’re here, but I’ll deal
with you when I hear the details,” Greg snapped back.

“You shot Carter, you, whoreson,” she snarled, giving up the
pretense.

“Sure, I did. That SOB was about to kill Alexa.”

“Oh Greg, thank you for saving my life,” Alexa said.

Dante moved his head with effort, searching. Through the
daze numbing his mind, he spotted her staring at him, a deep frown between her
eyebrows.

Thank God, Alexa was safe. “That shrew shot Dante and wanted
to throw vinegar in his eyes,” Alexa accused as she glared at Dianna. “Look at
the shape he’s in now because of you and that monster.”

Dante blinked and forced himself to smile. “I’m fine,” he
mouthed to reassure Alexa.

“Your Dante was pummeling Carter with punches,” Dianna spat.

“He wanted to push me from the balcony.” Dante’s weak voice hardly
reached his own ears. His head reeled from the agony of his wounds, but the sight
of Dianna spitting curses at Greg, Carter, even Steve, cheered him up.

“Enough,” Ladd hollered. “I’ve heard enough for now. You’ve
already tried to kill each other.”

A policeman approached the detective. “We found three guns.”

“One is mine,” Greg said.

“Carter’s and Dianna’s,” Dante muttered. “I had no weapon.”

“I used the frying pan,” Alexa declared proudly. A cop burst
out laughing, the others cleared their throats and turned to hide their grins.

Gathering a last shred of energy, Dante called, “Detective
Ladd.” He wondered if Ladd heard him.

The detective squatted beside him. “Yes?”

“Carter’s laptop. Bedroom,” he mumbled between ragged breaths,
hoping he’d have the energy to finish his sentence.
Dio, it hurts so much
.
He gritted his teeth to control the blistering pain and inhaled. “Dianna and
Carter... abduct... Alexa. Steve marry her...money...kill.”

“Got it.” The detective motioned to one of the cops to pick
up the laptop without closing it. “Take it to the lab and ask for a full report
on it.”

“In my pocket, tickets.” Understanding his message, the
detective shoved his hand into Dante’s pocket and extracted the airline
tickets. “Hmm, you had no right to enter this apartment, but...” He granted
Dante a half-smile. “Good job.”

Dante’s strength betrayed him. He squirmed and contorted,
trying to press his good hand on his damaged shoulder. Blood squirted from his
wound.

“Now, Cantari, you’d better not move. Or you’ll hurt
yourself more.”

“Call 911,” Alexa screamed. “Dante is bleeding to death.”

Uncontrollable sobs shook her, but through her tears, she
saw the nice officer walk into the condo. “Please, Officer Raines, please, undo
these.” She squirmed and rattled the handcuffs. “Give me a towel. I have to
stop his bleeding.”

“The ambulance will be here in a minute. They are on their
way up. I called them as soon as I saw the mayhem in this place. I was waiting
for them outside.” Officer Raines knelt beside her. A curse escaped him as he
muttered, “What idiot has put these on your hands?” He unclasped the manacles,
and helped her up, but restrained her arm. “Don’t touch your friend. You may
hurt him.”

“But he’s bleeding.”

“Here are the paramedics. They’ll take care of him.”

In fact, four men and a woman entered the apartment, rolling
and opening two stretchers. They surrounded Dante, transferred him to a
stretcher, and raised it.

“You idiots,” Dianna snarled. “Someone help Carter.”

“We are, Ma’am.” A moment later, Carter, still unconscious
was moved on to a stretcher.

Her hands pressed over her stomach, Alexa watched them hold
towels to the bleeding areas, wrap blood pressure cuffs, and insert IVs in the
wounded men’s arms. They measured blood pressure and pulse, and declared both men
still alive. After they strapped them to the stretchers, they wheeled them out
of the apartment. Officer Raines and two policemen accompanied them.