Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series) (64 page)

She turned to him.
 
“Is that a dare?”

“You tell me.”

“You know I take risks.”

“I think you’re holding
back now.”

“You think you’re clever,
but you’re not, Parker.”

“I think I just called
you out.”

They held each other’s
gaze for a moment and then she said, “You want to spank my ass, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“You want to make it
sting.”

“I want to make it so you
can barely walk, but I’ll save that for later.”

“You can’t mess up my
hair or makeup, Parker.
 
You can’t
do that.
 
OK?
 
I need to look as if nothing happened.”

“You’ll
feel
as if
something happened, but you’ll probably look even better, if that’s
possible.
 
You’ll have a glow that
has nothing to do with your hair and makeup.”

She looked around the
lobby for her uncle, but didn’t see him anywhere in the crowd, so she squeezed
Parker’s hand harder.
 
“Just behind
that corner are service elevators.
 
You can’t see them from here because the trees and the waterfall are in
the way.
 
Better yet, they’re on the
other side of that wall, which is perfect because they don’t face the lobby, so
it’s unlikely that anyone will see us go inside.
 
We could use those, if you want.”

“I want.”

He took the lead, which
she loved about him when it came to sex.
 
He wasn’t intimidated by her, her name, or her money.
 
When they had sex, he was in
control.
 
They cut through the
crowds of laughing, smiling, pulled-to-the-hilt faces, and she felt her heart
quicken when they rounded a corner where there were significantly less
people.
 
The party was happening on
the other side of the waterfall, not here.
 
She dropped his hand for a moment, opened her clutch, and pulled out a
set of keys.
 

“The elevators are
locked,” she said.
 
“But I can
unlock them.
 
We’ll need to be
quick.
 
If my uncle finds out, or if
security finds out—”

“What will happen?”

She smiled at him.
 
“Probably nothing.
 
I can sweet talk my way out of
anything.
 
Plus, tonight’s a hit, so
I have that on my side.
 
Here.
 
I think it’s this key.”
 
She stuck it in the lock, turned it, and
the elevator door slid open.

“Go!” he said.

Giggling, she stepped
inside, turned around and pressed her back against the wall.
 
Already, she was moist and ready for
him.
 
On this side of the elevator
door, no one was in sight, so she felt less tense.
 
She pulled him in by his jacket and he
kissed her hard on the mouth.
 
His
tongue darted inside, then quickly pulled out, teasing her.
 
His hands smoothed up her body, he
cupped her breasts, and then he tweaked her nipples hard.
 
She let out a low moan and arched back
her head.
 
She was losing herself in
him, and they hadn’t even begun.
 
I’m
going to marry him
, she thought.
 
I can feel it.
 
I’m going
to marry this man.
 
This is whom
I’ve always dreamed of.

He pressed himself
against her and she felt the length of his cock against her thigh as she tried
to hit a button to close the door.
 
But she couldn’t move.
 
He
was holding her too tightly, nuzzling his mouth into her neck.

Until his own neck was
broken.

Pepper heard the sound of
the bones snapping, she saw Parker’s eyes roll back in his head as he fell in a
heap at her feet, and then she saw a man in a tuxedo standing where Parker had
stood.
 
She didn’t recognize
him.
 
Before she could scream, he
slapped his hand over her mouth.
 
He
pushed a button for the seventh floor, and then, as the doors closed, he said,
“Don’t scream.
 
Don’t say a
word.
 
Do as I say, and you might
come out of this alive.”

Terrified, she looked at
him and then looked down at Parker, who was unmoving.
 
His eyes were open but unseeing.
 
He was dead.
 
Dead.
 
She wanted to sob in outrage and
despair.
 
This man killed him.
 
He took Parker away from her.

Why?

“You want to know who I
am?
 
You’ll find out soon enough,
Penelope.
 
What you did was a stupid
thing.
 
You fucked with the wrong
person.
 
Now, I’m going to hear your
side of it, then I’m going to make a call, and then, depending on what’s said,
we’ll decide whether you die tonight, perhaps right in front of all of these
beautiful people.
 
Can you imagine?
 
You think you made an entrance
earlier?
 
If I’m given the go-ahead,
you’ll leave this world with an exit no one will forget.”

*
 
*
 
*

In the lobby, Spocatti
watched George Redman work the crowd, he watched him being greeted and feted,
congratulated and hugged.
 
When he
couldn’t stomach a moment more of the revelry, he checked his watch.
 
The party had been going strong for more
than two hours, but it would end sooner than later, so he needed to act.

He didn’t need Epifania
Zapopa, so he got rid of her.
 
He
sent her on a meaningless mission to find a blond man in his forties, who had a
deep scar running down the length of his left cheek, and who was wearing an
elaborate family crest on his jacket.

“I can’t seem to find
him,” he said to her.
 
“It’s too
crowded in here.”

“No problem, Papi.
 
Epifania help.”

And she was gone.

He pulled out his cell
and turned it on.
 
An image appeared
that featured Google news reports of Leana Redman’s death.
 
Earlier, Carmen created it for him in
Photoshop and it looked like the real thing, with fake links to news stories,
and photographs of Leana Redman beside those links.
 
On her own phone, Carmen had the same
thing, only with news reports that George Redman recently had been murdered.

The image was scrollable
and expandable.
 
None of the links
worked, but that didn’t matter.
 
The
idea was to show the page to Redman and his security team, quietly distract
them with what he’d just come upon on his cell, get them away from this circus,
and then do what Spocatti did best.

Murder
them all.

CHAPTER
NINETY-TWO

When Leana saw Marty Spellman
in the crowd, she noticed that he wasn’t alone.
 
He was with a woman she recognized on
sight—Jennifer Barnes from Channel One.
 

That caused her to
pause.
 

Was he married to
her?
 
Dating her?
 
Just friends with her?
 
Leana didn’t know, but then she knew
very little about Marty.
 
They’d
known each other for only a short, intense period of time.
 
Obviously, she knew he once was married
to Gloria, but that’s all she knew about his personal life.

What she admired about
Barnes was her reporting.
 
Jennifer
always had been fair to her family.
 
This morning, when she reported on what happened last night with the De
Cicco family’s threat against Leana, Jennifer stuck to the facts without giving
herself over to the sensational aspects of what happened.
 
That’s what journalism used to be, but
no longer was for many in the business.
 
In passing, Jennifer mentioned that Leana was married to Mario De
Cicco.
 
Any good journalist would
have reported that, but she didn’t do it in a way that appeared to implicate
that Mario had any part in this.
 
Other reporters hadn’t been so objective.
 
Some wondered aloud about his “possible
involvement,” which they were “investigating,” and which pissed her off to no
end.
 

Mario just let it slide.

With Sean trailing her,
she walked over to them, wended through the crowd, and came up behind Marty.

“You dress up well,” she
said.
 

He turned with a
smile.
 
“I could say the same for
you.
 
So could Jennifer, who wants
that dress.”
 
He turned to Jennifer
and made introductions.
 
“Leana,
this is my wife, Jennifer.”

“Your wife?” Leana
said.
 
“Now I have even more respect
for you, Marty.
 
Jennifer is the
best.”

She shook hands with her.

“I’m so glad you could
come,” Leana said.
 
“And thank you
for your report this morning.
 
Mario
and I saw it.
 
You were terrific.”

“You’re very kind,”
Jennifer said.
 
“Best to stick to
the facts.”

“But so many others
don’t.
 
They just assume that they
know them, and then they speculate.”

“Not my style.”
 
She motioned toward Leana’s dress.
 
“Not to go all red carpet on you, but I
have to ask.
 
Who are you wearing?”

“Let’s just say I got
very lucky tonight.”

“That makes it sound like
you’re wearing vintage to me.”

“Vintage Dior.”

She sighed.
 
“So, I guess I won’t be getting one.”

“I’m surprised they let
me borrow one.
 
This goes back
tomorrow morning.
 
If there’s so
much as a stain on it, I’m screwed.”

“If I were you, I’d sleep
in it.”

“I think wrinkles also
are a violation.
 
Are you having a
good time?”

“I can’t believe what
you’ve done here.
 
It’s so pretty,
Leana.
 
And I love the orchestra,
not to mention the food.”

“I just look at the food,
and my Spanx gets tighter.
 
Do you
mind if I borrow your husband for a moment?”

“Of course not.
 
It was nice meeting you.”

Leana stepped to the side
with Marty.
 
“Have you noticed
anything?”

“Nothing, and I’ve been
watching.
 
How about you?”

“Same
here—nothing.
 
Everything
seems to be going well.”
 
She
shrugged.
 
“Maybe Sean did it.
 
Maybe we will be safe tonight.”

“Keep your guard up,
Leana,” Marty warned.
 
“The night
isn’t over yet.”

*
 
*
 
*

When she waved goodbye to
Marty and Jennifer, she caught a glimpse of her brother, and walked over to
him.

He had come alone, but
you wouldn’t know it to see him.
 
With his new movie opening in days, he was surrounded by people, mostly
friends by the looks of it because Leana recognized most of them from the
screen.
 

She felt a little
intimidated when she stepped into their circle, especially since it included a
legendary actress, who earlier that year won her third Academy Award for Best
Actress.
 
It was daunting to be in
her presence, but this was her brother’s life, so she had no choice but to just
go with it.

She nudged his arm, and
watched a dozen famous faces turn to her.
 
“Hi,” she said.
 
He dipped
down so he could hear her.
 
“Having
fun?”

“First of all, this place
is a knockout.”

“I’ve been wearing my
modest face and telling people how pleased I am with it.
 
You can’t get too excited with the Park
Avenue crowd—you get it.
 
But,
Michael, it’s pretty great, isn’t it?
 
I’m so proud of it.”