The Santangelos (26 page)

She took her time sauntering over—all Puerto Rican ass and long curly hair. Alejandro took a closer look. She was not as pretty as J. Lo, his personal favorite, but she had major attitude. He liked what he saw. “You got a name, foxy girl?” he asked, pouring her a glass of champagne.

Sonia threw him a sultry look. Denver was right: she owned the role of party girl in a tighter-than-tight short leather dress, bare legs, and sexy ankle-strap heels. “You can call me Rita,” she said, sliding in next to him. “An’ you,” she added boldly. “
You
got a name?”

Alejandro raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You don’t know me?” he questioned, like it was impossible that she wasn’t aware that he owned the club.

“If I knew who you was, why’d I ask?” she said, running a finger suggestively around the rim of her champagne glass.

The two blondes giggled nervously. Was Alejandro going to fly into a fury? They’d both experienced his short fuse, and when he lost his temper, it wasn’t pretty.

But Alejandro wasn’t annoyed at all. In fact, he was enjoying himself. “You got panties on under that dress?” he said, leering at Sonia.

“Whyn’t you ask my boyfriend?” she responded tartly.

“You got a boyfriend?”

“No,” she said scathingly, taking a gulp of champagne. “I’m makin’ him up. An’ for your info, this girl don’t wear no panties. Not ever.”

Alejandro was intrigued. “Get lost,” he said, gesturing toward the blondes.

Obediently, they both rose to their feet and tottered off.

“You got a boyfriend or not?” he said, once again licking his fleshy lips as his eyes lingered on Sonia’s muscled legs.

“Yeah, I got me a big macho boyfriend,” Sonia said. “Only he ain’t here. He sent
me
to do his business.”

“Business?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “I gotta take care of some things, but that don’t mean I can’t have myself a party.”

“What things you supposed to take care of?”

“I’m on a buyin’ spree. You got connections?”

Alejandro laughed out loud. Did
he
have connections? Was she shitting him? Who was this woman who seemed to have no idea who he was?

“What’re you looking for?” he asked.

“The usual shit.”

“Bring your boyfriend in. Maybe I can help.”

“I got fifty big ones burnin’ a hole in my bag.”

Alejandro’s eyes shifted to take in the large purse she was carrying over her shoulder. Fifty thousand dollars. And no Rafael around to warn him that this might be a trap.

Fifty thousand.

For a second or two he was tempted.

Then he thought—what would Rafael do?

Rafael would say no. He was always warning Alejandro to be ultra careful.

“Can’t help you, foxy lady,” he said, reminding himself that since he didn’t know her, maybe he shouldn’t risk it.

Sonia gave a casual shrug. “Didn’t think you could,” she said, downing the rest of her champagne. “Guess I’ll see ya around, big boy,” she added, getting to her feet.

Then she was gone, vanishing into a sea of writhing bodies on the dance floor.

Alejandro was pissed at himself. He’d turned down a deal that a month ago he would’ve gone for. The problem was that since Frankie’s arrest, he understood—reluctantly—that he had to be more careful. The bitch DA was out to get him, and no way was he allowing that to happen.

The two blondes were hovering nearby. He gestured for them to return to his table.

They did so, giggling and nudging each other.

Two blondes were better than a hot Puerto Rican. Or were they?

Alejandro decided it was time to find out.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Secrets. So many of them. Too many to absorb. Papers, multiple contracts, a shiny black Glock, numerous family photos, jewelry, watches, stacks of cash, letters, deeds, stock certificates. Also in the box were the photographs Lucky had expected to find. The pornographic photos of Marabelle Blue. Incriminating photos of the sexy blond movie star in compromising positions with several high-powered politicians—including Peter Richmond, Lucky’s ex-father-in-law, a man who had recently announced his aspirations to run for president.

Ah yes, Lucky thought—blackmail photos should Gino ever decide to use them.

Had
he used the photos for his own gain? She didn’t know and she never would.

There were more photos—ones she had not seen before. Among them were a series of extremely graphic nude photos of Paige, plus several more of Paige cavorting with a mix of different women and men. The photos were compromising, to say the least.

Why had Gino wanted her to have these photos? It was puzzling. Was she supposed to destroy them? Or did he expect her to keep them should
she
ever need to use them? The ones of Paige she decided to keep, just in case. Everything else she returned to the boxes to be dealt with at another time.

It was all too much, and with everything going on, she didn’t care to think about it until things were calmer and she could concentrate. She had other matters to concern her. Beverly had asked her to arrange a money transfer for Bobby’s bail. Chris Warwick had texted to say he was on his way back from Palm Springs with information. At least she’d spoken to Max, and that was a relief.

She buzzed Mrs. Crisp, returned the boxes to the safe-deposit wall, then got in her Ferrari and headed home.

On the way she received a text from Danny telling her that Lennie, Gino Junior, and Leo were at the house. He also mentioned that he was busy securing accommodations for everyone, plus putting together funeral services at the Magiriano and organizing a huge celebratory party, which would take place after the funeral.

Who was coming?

The family first and foremost. And there were so many friends and acquaintances who would expect to be there.

Suddenly she was overcome with a wave of emotion. Pulling her Ferrari to a stop by the side of the road, she took a few moments to reflect on everything.

Gino … Gino … Gino
. Was he now reunited with Maria, the love of his life? Was he peaceful and content? Was he watching over her and his grandchildren, protecting them all from harm?

She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. Once again, she knew that she had to be strong. Above all else, she had a job to do. And that job was to find Gino’s killer.

*   *   *

“Gotta get back to work,” Lennie was quick to tell her when she returned home. “Everyone’s in the editing bay except me, and it’s my movie.”

“How was lunch?”

“Those boys ate like a couple of cowboys coming off a weeklong fast,” he joked. “They sure got big appetites.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“The good news is they’re doing okay. They’re a couple of tough little shits.”

“Of course they are,” she said with a soft smile.

“And you, my beautiful wife—how about you?”

She shrugged. “I guess I’m surviving,” she replied, feeling the sadness envelop her like a heavy cloak.

“Always the survivor, right?”

“You got it,” she said with a wry smile. “I’ve decided that’s going to be my mantra from now on.”

“How come you didn’t tell me you were going out? Where’d you go?”

“I drove down the coast. Had to clear my head.”

“Listen, Lucky,” he said, giving her a long stern look. “Do me a favor and don’t go doing that again without security. We’re in a scary situation. Somebody’s out to get this family, and who knows—you could be their next target.”

“C’mon, Lennie,” she said, summoning her strength. “Stop being so dramatic.”

“Bullshit,” he shot back at her. “You know I’m right.”

“What you should do is get back to work,” she insisted. “Everything’s fine.”

“In your world it always is.”

“Okay,” she said, determined to change the subject. “Bringing you up to date, I should tell you that I posted bail for Bobby,
and
I spoke to Max.”

“About time. Is she on her way back?”

“I told her it was best if she flew home for the funeral. Right now she’s in Rome doing some big-deal modeling campaign that she’s all excited about.”

“That’s great. As long as she’s happy, that’s all that matters.”

“She sounds as if she is.”

“Okay, then, so she’ll come back for the funeral. When will that be?”

“As soon as they release Gino’s body I’ll set a firm date. So now—please—get your ass out of here and go edit your movie. You know you want to.”

“Only if you’re absolutely sure you don’t need me,” he said, putting his arms around her.

“I don’t,” she said, gently pushing him away. “I can assure you that everything’s under control.”

“You—my beautiful, stubborn wife—are something else,” he said, shaking his head as he turned to leave.

She gave a wan smile. “I know.”

By the time she went looking for the boys, they’d bonded with two of the security guards. One of the guards asked if they could take the boys surfing. She gave her permission and off they all went.

How resilient the young were. Whatever life threw at them, they bobbed right back. She remembered that at sixteen she’d been exactly the same.

She called Beverly to inform her that the wire transfer had been sent. Beverly promised that she’d have Bobby out of jail within the hour.

Danny was in his makeshift office. He handed her a long list of people who’d called offering their condolences. She studied the list for a moment before deciding that the only person she felt like calling back was Venus, although there were many others she knew she should talk to. Eventually. Not now. It was too soon.

She headed for her study. It was her favorite room, filled with books, DVDs of movies she’d enjoyed, and family photos. French doors opened onto a spacious balcony overlooking the ocean. The tide was in, and the waves were breaking close to the shore.

The Malibu house was a place filled with peacefulness and love. It was her special retreat away from the craziness of Vegas.

Taking out her phone, she was happy to reach Venus.

“You do know how much I loved Gino,” Venus whispered softly. “He was always my secret crush from the very first moment I met him.”

“I know,” Lucky replied, glad that Venus sounded like her old self. “I had to practically handcuff you to keep you away from him.”

“Ah … if only I could’ve gotten rid of Paige…” Venus sighed.

“If only,” Lucky agreed. “Although having
you
as my stepmom would not have been my lifelong dream.”

“And having Paige as a stepmom was?” Venus said archly.

“Don’t even go there,” Lucky warned. “That woman is toxic. Her true colors are finally shining through.”

“Can’t wait to hear.”

“The funeral service and following party will be in Vegas at the Magiriano,” Lucky said, refusing to linger on the subject of Paige. “You’ll be there?”

“What do
you
think?” Venus replied. “And if you need me before that, I’m around. Still shooting in Vegas. You can call me any time of the day or night.”

“I might do that.”

Lucky clicked off, contemplating how comforting it was to have her friend back—the Venus she knew and loved.

It occurred to her that she’d never had many close friends—plenty of acquaintances and business associates, but true loyal friends were hard to come by. Unfortunately, most people wanted something from her, and that wasn’t cool.

Not that she’d missed out on anything. Lennie was her very
best
friend, and he and their family came first, then her work. Whether it was running a movie studio or building hotels, she had a passion for both. Now she was planning on combining them. She was going to build an amazing complex incorporating a grand hotel, luxurious apartments, and, most exciting of all, a magnificent state-of-the-art movie studio.

Once again she thought about how much Gino would’ve loved this concept. She’d so looked forward to telling him, listening to his advice and ideas.

The sad truth was that the dream was no longer possible. Gino was gone. Forever.

Danny knocked on the door. “Chris is here,” he said.

“Tell him to come in,” she replied, impatient to hear what Chris had come up with. He’d never let her down, and she was sure he wasn’t about to start now.

It was time to find out the truth.

And when she did, it would be time to take her revenge.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The desk clerk returned Bobby’s belongings to him, throwing him a contemptuous look, as if to say,
You’ll be back, rich boy.

Bobby felt his jaw tighten, but he said nothing. What was the point?

Beverly was there to meet him. She was accompanied by two burly security men, and even though she’d warned him that he was all over the newspapers, he was not prepared for the onslaught of press waiting to pounce when they stepped outside. They came at him like vultures claiming their last meal.

Keeping a firm grip on his arm, Beverly instructed him not to say a word as they pushed and shoved their way to the car.

He didn’t. He stared straight ahead, not even blinking as a flurry of flashbulbs blinded him while several snarky TV reporters shoved mics in his face.

Jibes about his family were thrown at him.

“Read that your gangster granddaddy just got his head blown off. Care to comment?”

“How’s your mama doin’? Wasn’t Lucky accused of killing someone way back?”

“Wassit like to be connected?”

“You kill that girl, Bobby?”

“Think you’re gonna walk on this one?”

Beverly and security hustled him into the back of an SUV with blacked-out windows. He slumped down, feeling like shit. Over the years, he’d managed to keep a low profile. He’d never courted the press or done publicity to gain attention for his clubs. M.J. had been the public face of Mood, while he’d always stayed in the background. Occasionally he’d been mentioned on Page Six of the
New York Post
as one of the most eligible bachelors in town, but usually he flew under the radar.

This was different. This was a game changer, and he realized that he was going to have to deal with it whether he liked it or not.