Fearless: Mob Boss Book Two (Volume 2) (8 page)

18

She woke to the sound of the ocean, and she lay in bed for a long time, wondering if David could hear it, too. If Nico and Luca were right, they were on the same side of the country, at least.

It was cold comfort. Already twenty-four hours had passed. They had two more days to find something that would lead them to her brother before Dante called again. The thought threatened to make her crazy, and she got up and threw on a sundress before padding to down to the kitchen on bare feet. She could see Nico and Locke talking on the patio, but there was coffee, so she poured herself a cup before joining them.

“Good morning,” she said, lowering herself into the chair next to Nico.

“Morning,” Locke said. “Sleep okay?”

She nodded, feeling a little guilty. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep knowing David was in danger, but her whole body had started shutting down the minute she hit the luxurious bed. She had a vague memory of Nico’s sliding in next to her, of nestling in the crook of his arm just to be sure he was really there, but that was where her recollection of the night ended.

Nico took her hand. “You needed it. You’re not good to anyone dead on your feet.”

As if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. As if he knew how hard it was to eat or drink or breathe—to feel anything good—knowing David was under Dante’s control.

She took a sip of her coffee and looked out over the water. It was late April, and there was a thick layer of cloud cover overhead. No California sunshine for them.

Nico stood. “I’m heading out for my meeting with John.”

“I’ll come with you,” Angel said, setting her coffee cup down.

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You should stay. He won’t speak as freely if you’re there. And Luca’s supposed to be getting back to us with the results of the search on the words you found in your father’s office. I told him to call you.”

“You did?” Other than Boston, it was the first time he’d trusted her with a piece of their strategy.

“Of course, I did.” He bent to kiss her head. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”

He disappeared into the house, and a few minutes later, she heard the sound of a powerful engine starting up in the courtyard. She looked over at Locke with a raised eyebrow.

“Porsche,” he said.

“Of course.”

She’d stopped being surprised by the level of raw testosterone surrounding Nico. It must be in the water or something; all the men he knew were controlling and possessive. They liked fast cars. They made no apologies for enjoying the power they wielded, even when they wielded that power judiciously. A year ago, a man like that would have been a turnoff. A douchebag, according to the other girls at school.

Now she found that they weren’t as one-dimensional as she would have expected. There was something elemental about them—their desire to protect, to win, to dominate. And maybe there was something primitive about the fact that it turned her on, too. Maybe there was something buried in the psychology of the species, something that couldn’t let go of the survival instinct that had forced man to protect his tribe and had made women seek out that protection.

Did that make her some kind of simpering idiot? A throwback to a time when women were consigned to the kitchen and the bedroom? She didn’t think so. She still wanted things for herself. Still valued her intellect and her ability to contribute.

But damn. She kind of liked these alpha males.

“I have to leave in a bit,” Locke said. “But first I’m going to catch some waves. Want to come down to the beach?”

“Can I get cell service down there?” She didn’t want to miss Luca’s call.

“You can,” he said.

“Okay.”

She changed into her bathing suit, glad she’d thought to bring it, and met Locke in the living room. He looked like a bronze god, his muscled torso exposed over an unzipped wetsuit that hung around his lean hips, a very pronounced “V” pointing downward. She couldn’t think about any man but Nico with lust, but if she’d been able to, Locke would probably do the trick.

They exited through the patio doors and past an open-air shower at the top of the hill. He grabbed a surfboard leaning against the wood that held the shower head and started down the winding pathway.

The sun was ocean was churning gray under the overcast sky, but the air was warm, the breeze gentle. It felt wrong to see the beauty in it when she didn’t know what was happening to David. She was thinking about turning around, waiting for Luca’s call in the house, when Locke spoke.

“Coastal eddy,” Locke said.

“Excuse me?”

“The clouds.” He tipped his head to the sky. “Everyone thinks it’s always sunny in Southern California, but the coastal eddy creates a marine layer that lasts through June. Sometimes into July.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said. “Although I don’t mind it. I’m definitely an east coast girl.”

“Well, east coast girls are hip, I hear.”

She smiled at his Beach Boys reference.

“Yeah, but California girls…”

“… are pretty hot, too,” he said.

She kept walking with him to the bottom of the hill. Staying inside wouldn’t do anything to help David. She would only stare at the clock, count the minutes left to help him. He wouldn’t want her to punish herself that way.

The cove was private, marked at either end by high, craggy cliffs that blocked off the property from surrounding homes and centered by a perfect strip of sand.

“How long have you had this place?” Angel asked, laying down the beach towel Locke had handed her on their way out.

He started pulling up his wetsuit. “About four years.”

She tried to hide her surprise. He already looked so young. How had he been able to afford such a place in a real estate market that commanded millions for even the smallest patches of beach front property?

“It’s really beautiful,” she said. “I’m surprised you leave at all. I’m not sure I could.”

“I’m more or less at home anywhere,” he said, zipping the wetsuit. “But this place does have a special kind of energy, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

He picked up his board. “Catch you on the flip side.”

She sat on her towel, tucking her phone into one of the corners, and watched him sprint down the beach. She loved Nico. Wanted him like no other. But she wasn’t dead yet.

Leaning back on her elbows, she watched Locke paddle out to deeper waters. He moved effortlessly, catching the waves at just the right moment, maneuvering the board like it was an extension of his body. He looked so free, and for a moment, she had the desire to join him, to coast above the water until the wave deposited her into its depths. Maybe she would learn to surf when this was all over. Maybe David would learn with her. Why not?

After a while she walked down to the water, careful to stay out of Locke’s way. She dove under a big wave and emerged on the other side of it invigorated and refreshed. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed the ocean, how freeing it was to swim and float, letting it carry her like a leaf drifting down a mountain stream. She stayed out for a long time, riding over some of the waves, feeling her stomach lift as they carried her over the sandy ocean bottom, and diving under others, the muffled crash of them breaking overhead.

Locke was already back on the beach when she finally came in.

“Not a sun worshipper, I take it?” he asked as she dried off.

She shook her head. “Not really. It’s kind of boring.”

He laughed appreciatively. “I couldn’t agree more.”

They made their way up the path, and Angel headed to her room to take a shower. She was drying off when her cell phone rang from the bathroom counter. Luca’s name was displayed on the screen. She picked it up.

“Luca?”

“Angel,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“You tell me.” She didn’t want to waste words on small talk.

“Sara ran some searches on “Strand” and “South Bay”.”

“And?” she said, walking naked into the bedroom. “Did she find anything?”

“Yes and no.”

Angel sighed. “Can you be more specific?”

“They’re common words,” Luca said. “Between searches run separately and together, she came up with school, neighborhoods, even retirement homes, from Southern California to Florida to Portugal.”

“Southern California?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Angel,” Luca warned.

“But if the call came from LA and the piece of paper from my father’s office had words leading to LA—”

“Leading to lots of places,” Luca reminded her.

Angel slipped a bra on around the phone. “Seems like quite a coincidence.”

“I agree, and you can feel free to start with the hits there. I just don’t want you to miss something else that might be important because you’ve already convinced yourself the words are connected to LA.”

“What exactly am I looking for?” she asked, pulling on a skirt.

“I’m going to send you a list of all the hits Sara got. We need you to go through it and tell us if anything jumps out at you; a name, a location, anything that could be connected to you or David.”

“The words might not be connected to us at all,” Angel said. “And I have no way to know if they’re connected to Dante, to where he’s holding David.”

Luca sighed. “I’m not going to lie; it’s a long shot. But it’s all we’ve got right now. And Sara’s going to go over the search results with a fine-tooth comb, cross-referencing them with everything we know about Dante, his history, his family.”

“Okay, she said. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good. I’m sending them to Locke’s computer now. His servers are encrypted. Just ask him to sign you in.”

“Thanks, Luca.”

“You’re welcome.” He hesitated. “How are you holding up?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It seems a little surreal, which is probably the only reason I’m not losing it right now.”

“Shock is a survival mechanism. Use the distance it gives you to work on finding something that leads to David.”

“I will.”

“Talk soon.”

The line went dead, and Angel dropped onto the bed in her skirt and bra. Her reliable numbness faded into the background long enough to allow for panic. Luca was trying to stay positive, trying to keep her positive. But they all knew the truth, even if it was unspoken; if finding David was dependent on connecting three commonly used words to a man she didn’t know, they were screwed.

19

Nico sat in the lobby of Lando Productions for a full twenty minutes before the receptionist—a leggy brunette—showed him into John’s office. He had no way of knowing if it was intentional discourtesy or just more of John’s obliviousness about family protocol, so he took deep breaths while he followed the brunette to an office at the end of a long, carpeted hall.

Angel needed John. And that meant Nico would do whatever it took to get what they could from him.

The receptionist opened the door with a smile, then waited until Nico walked through it to close it with a quite click.

John stood behind a modern desk, the streets of Hollywood humming on the other side of the giant window behind him.

“Nico!” he said, coming around the desk with a smile. “So nice to see you.”

“It’s been a long time,” Nico said as they embraced.

John patted his shoulder. “It has.” He gestured to the two upholstered chairs in front of the desk. “Please, sit.”

John Lando was a small man with a soft face and eyes the color of sand. Everything about him was unremarkable, and Nico marveled again that John somehow found himself head of the LA family. It’s true what people said; it really wasn’t what you know, but whom.

Nico took a seat and looked around the room as John made his way back behind his desk. It was more generic than Nico would have expected, with gray carpet and furniture that was obviously expensive but far from inspiring. Framed movie posters provided the only color in the room, and Nico thought he recognized images from John’s last two films.

“So what can I help you with, Nico?” John asked when he was settled.

“I’m looking for Dante Santoro.” Nico had decided to take the direct approach. He had no idea if John was helping Dante in LA, but being direct might throw him off balance enough for Nico to determine if he was hiding something.

“Dante?” John blinked at him.

Nico nodded. “He’s off reservation, has taken a hostage. I need to find him.”

John opened the top drawer of his desk, fidgeted with something inside before closing it and returning his gaze to Nico. “Well, Nico, I’m not really in the know on this kind of thing.”

“I understand,” Nico said. “But the last call from Dante came from LA. I figured if anyone knew anything, it would be you.”

He wasn’t trying to flatter John Lando. The man couldn’t care less about being respected outside of the movie industry. Nico was simply hoping to gauge John’s reaction, see if he closed up or distanced himself rather than offering to help.

“You give me too much credit,” John said. “My time is almost exclusively occupied by my production company. The truth is, Gino Torelli handles most of the family business, an arrangement that works perfectly for me.”

He wasn’t lying. Gino was John’s Underboss, and rumor had it he handled day-to-day family business so John could focus on his movies. It was a weakness with no real consequence; in LA, the movie business reigned supreme. John wielded far more influence as a film executive than he would as Boss of the LA family. It was probably one of the reasons Dante came out west to stage his coup. The U.S. arm of the Syndicate had been headquartered on the east coast since the late 1800s. A takeover would have met with more resistance there, and Dante may have found help harder to find.

“That may be true,” Nico said. “But we both know big decisions always go through the man in charge. And that would be you.”

He held John’s gaze until he broke eye contact, shuffling things nervously around on his desk.

“I’m sorry I can’t help. I haven’t heard anything about Dante being in LA.” He looked up, his eyes unnaturally bright. He might be the worst liar Nico had ever seen. “But I’m having a little party tomorrow night to celebrate funding on a new project. I don’t usually mix family business with movie business, but you should come.”

It was a fatal mistake on John’s part. In an effort to deflect Nico’s questions about Dante, John had opened a door he probably didn’t want open. And while attending a Hollywood party filled with self-important celebrities was the very last thing Nico wanted to do, it would gain him access to John’s house.

“I’d love to come,” Nico said.

John’s face fell a little. “Great, great.”

He scrawled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Nico. “Starts at nine. Ends whenever. And if you end up not being able to make it, I understand.”

Nice try
, Nico thought.

“I’ll be there,” he said, standing.

John reached across the desk to his hand. “Looking forward to it.”

“I’ll just see myself out,” Nico said.

He strode to the door and headed down the hall before John could protest, passing the brunette without a word. He was still fuming over the interaction when he hit the street outside. He didn’t know if John was actually helping Dante, but the bastard knew something. And Nico had no doubt that John’s decision to keep quiet had nothing to do with loyalty and everything to do with cowardice.

There were only two possibilities; either John had made the decision to lay down while Dante defied the rules of the Syndicate, or Gino had made the decision and John had gone along with it. Either way, the man wasn’t fit to run the LA family—or any family.

He walked toward Locke’s Porsche, parked at the curb. It was as unsatisfying an outcome as he could have imagined. He couldn’t rule John out, but he didn’t have a solid lead on his involvement either.

What would he tell Angel?

He thought about how she’d looked the night before, eyes wary and sad when he’d tucked her into bed, and felt a fresh burst of admiration for her. She had the heart of a lion. She would fight to get her brother back alive, and he would fight with her. He would burn down the whole city if necessary.

He looked in the rearview mirror, waiting a full minute before a break in traffic allowed him to pull away from the curb.

Fuck, he hated LA.