Second, he wrote: “Liv is passionate about her vineyard and settled in for the long haul. Seriously. No ambivalence there.”
Third: He didn’t do relationships.
Fourth: He’d never done relationships.
Fifth—shit, his brain was caught in a useless groove.
So, okay, there it was. He wasn’t available. Now, if only his libido was equally reasonable about that long-held belief.
Fuck. His damned libido didn’t give a shit about lists or availability or beliefs of any shape or form. It just kept telling him to get in his car, drive to Liv’s, and do what he wanted to do.
He figured he was becoming pretty well unglued when he was talking to himself and—worse—answering back. But grim, dogged self-control managed to get him through another night.
Just barely.
Okay, so the sex channels helped.
But the next morning, after greeting the work crews and running over the schedule with the project manager, he said in what he hoped was a mild, restrained tone of voice, “I’ll be gone today. If you need anything, call my cell.” He counted to ten real, real slowly on his way out the door, hoping to rachet down his champing-at-the-bit horniness.
Five minutes later, he was on the freeway, heading north.
He probably shouldn’t have stopped for an espresso, he was already strung out, but it was an hour drive. He’d have time to calm down.
Twenty-seven
Jake saw the late-model four-door sedan with New York plates parked on the shoulder of the road just south of Liv’s driveway and slowed down to look. It was empty. Knowing Leo’s killer instinct, understanding Janie had something of his he wanted, Jake pulled his car into the turnaround where Liv’s driveway met the county road and parked. Getting out, he opened his trunk, pulled out his tire iron, and wished he had something more substantial as a weapon.
A car like that—undistinguished, with New York plates, parked away from the house—was disquieting.
Was it one of Leo’s photographers like the one who had taken the clandestine picture of Lisa that had irrevocably damaged her custody fight?
Was it another of Leo’s lawyers hoping to hand Janie a summons before she could react?
Was it another PI to replace Roman?
Although why any of those people would drive all the way from New York when they could fly didn’t make sense.
Shit.
There were men who would want to remain anonymous. Men who didn’t like to be hassled by airport security. Men who liked to bring weapons with them when they traveled.
He should probably call 911, he thought, but having seen Wayne and Arlen, he wasn’t so sure they’d be useful. And in the event the stranger in the neighborhood wasn’t necessarily dangerous but rather someone sent by Leo, perhaps he’d better check it out first. Or better yet, maybe Roman already had the situation under control, and nothing would be gained by bringing in the local gendarmes.
Walking up the drive, Jake was careful to stay out of sight. Fortunately, the driveway had been planted on either side with Douglas fir a century ago and the large evergreens offered concealment. As he approached the house, he scanned the building and windows. Nothing.
But the front door was open he saw as he circled the house, and it was never open. It was rarely used. Moving forward in a crouch, he stationed himself beneath one of the parlor windows that was open.
Not a sound. Debating whether to enter the house from the kitchen, he suddenly heard a muttered curse, the Jersey accent unmistakable. Then Janie’s voice drifted through the open window.
“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about. My husband’s hallucinating. You came out here on a wild-goose chase.”
Jesus, he had to give Janie credit for having balls. Most people didn’t talk like that to what he suspected were goons for hire.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch. Hey, Joey!” the Jersey voice shouted. “Find anything?”
Jake heard only a muffled reply from where he was standing, but someone named Joey had apparently entered the room, because the answering voice was close. While he wasn’t particularly in favor of everyone bearing arms in America, right now Jake wouldn’t have minded a nice forty-five in his hand. But that option not currently available, he carefully maneuvered himself into a concealed position near the open front door. Liv’s two large ivy topiaries bordering the door offered him both cover and a view of the parlor.
Christ, some guy was pointing a handgun at Janie and Roman, who were seated side by side on the sofa. Even with the man’s back to him, Jake had the impression he’d come from central casting for
The Sopranos
. He was short, stocky, with dark hair—on his arms and fingers, too. And his feet were planted in the wide stance of a street fighter.
A second man was taller but just as fit. Joey, perhaps. He stood in the open archway between the parlor and hall, a tennis bracelet of megasized diamonds hanging from his outstretched finger.
“We got extras on this trip, Paulie. Is this a beauty or what?”
“It’s great, but not what we came for. Did you look everywhere up there?”
“Trashed the place. Nuthin.” Joey slipped the bracelet into his pants pocket. “It looks like we might have to get the little lady to talk,” he murmured, leering at Janie. “Not that I mind that one fucking bit.”
Roman shifted on the sofa, his eyes narrow slits. “Don’t touch her,” he growled.
“And what the fuck are you gonna do about it, dude? Take a bullet for her?”
“I don’t have anything,” Janie said, her voice sulky and pissed. “So do what you have to do. I can’t give you what I don’t have.”
Janie’s in-your-face attitude wasn’t helping, Jake thought. This whole scene was going to get ugly real fast, and waiting for Janie to get beaten up didn’t seem like a good idea. It looked like now or never had arrived.
Leaping through the open door with the tire iron raised, Jake lunged at the man with the gun.
The instant Jake sprinted through the doorway, Roman bolted up from the couch and flung himself at Joey, hitting him with a hard, flying tackle.
Paulie crumpled to the floor under the force of Jake’s blow.
Roman finished off Joey with a quick one-two punch.
Both wiseguys were out for the count.
“Thanks,” Roman murmured, shooting Jake a smile before deftly going through Joey’s pockets and pulling out a handgun.
“No problem. Have these goons been here long?” Picking up Paulie’s weapon, Jake backed to the door and scanned the yard. “Are there more out there?”
“Hard to tell.” Roman turned to smile at Janie. “You okay, baby?”
“I’m good.” Janie smiled back.
“I don’t suppose you know where Liv has some rope?” Roman said to Jake.
“Uh-uh. Shouldn’t we call law enforcement?”
“No! Don’t!” Janie cried. “I mean can’t we just send these idiots back where they came from?” she added in a less vehement tone. “Leo’s checkmated at this point, and I don’t want any publicity that might screw up my settlement. If the police get involved, Leo might be implicated. He obviously sent these men, since they wanted the flash drive. Can’t you find someone to get them out of here, Roman? Like Harvey Keitel did in
Pulp Fiction
? Or can’t someone put them in a barrel or something and send them away like they did Jimmy Hoffa?”
“I don’t actually off people, baby, unless they’re coming at me with an AK-47 and there’s no other way to stop them,” Roman said gently. “I don’t do cold blood.”
“Well, these men certainly weren’t very nice to me.”
Roman tried not to smile. “We’ll figure out something.”
“Something that won’t generate any bad publicity for Leo until I have custody of Matt and my money.”
You had to admire a woman who could keep her eye on the bottom line when she’d only narrowly missed a beating. “They’re starting to come around,” Roman murmured, shifting his grip on the handgun as the two wiseguys began to moan. “Why don’t I see if I can find someone around here who can take these guys off our hands.”
“Don’t bother, ass wipe,” a gruff voice snarled from the direction of the front door. “Now drop your piece, or your friend here is gonna have a hole in his head.” His handgun was pressed into Jake’s neck. “You, too, dude. Drop it.”
Jake had gone rigid as the cold steel struck his skin.
Crap. Isn’t that the way
, he thought, letting his weapon drop to the floor. Just when things were going good.
As Roman carefully set his gun down on the floor, Joey gingerly pushed up on one elbow. “Fucking a,” he muttered, scowling at the man holding Jake hostage. “It took you long enough.”
“I can’t help you two are wusses. I was just watching some kid riding a horse out there for a minute. My grandpa used to take me to the races. I love horses.”
“Fuck you and your horses.” Struggling to his feet, Joey picked up his handgun. “And fuck your grandpa, too.”
“Leave my grandpa out of it, you prick. Can’t you two take care of yerselves? I gotta come save your asses?”
“Shut the fuck up, Nick. We still got unfinished business here. For starters, this asshole who coldcocked me,” Joey muttered, eyeing Roman malevolently.
“Look, I’ll give you what you came for,” Janie blurted out, in fear for Matt’s safety now that he’d been seen, frightened for Roman as well. “The flash drive’s upstairs. I’ll go and get it.”
“So you like this guy, hey?” Joey said, his smile wicked. “How much do you like him, baby? Enough to do me a favor? ”
“You touch her, you’re dead,” Roman said, his voice cold as the grave.
“You’ll be dead first, buddy.”
“You won’t squeeze off a second round before I have my hands around your neck. And one round won’t stop me,
buddy
.” There was no mistaking the threat was lethal.
“Come on, Joey. Chill out fer Chris’ sake. The bitch offered us what we want. Watch these two,” he added, shoving Jake in toward Roman. “I’ll go upstairs with her. Come on, babe, lead the way.”
By the time Janie and Nick returned, Paulie was on his feet as well. But he looked pale, the gash on his head from the tire iron trailing blood over his hair and neck onto his shirt collar.
“Mission accomplished, guys! We’re outta here,” Nick declared cheerfully, his hand holding the flash drive held aloft. “It was a pleasure, folks.” He bowed mockingly. “And fucking relax, Joey. We were supposed to do this job all nice and polite, anyway. Don’t even think of screwing things up.”
Twenty-eight
“Sorry about the flash drive, baby,” Roman said, watching Leo’s hired guns walk away down the drive, concerned that they might have detoured to the riding ring at the barn. “I’ll get their license plate number and have them stopped.”
“Like I’m so stupid I only have one.”
Roman spun around. “You’re shittin’ me.”
“Now why would I do that?” Janie said with a smile. “I have two more copies.”
So much for a license plate number, Roman thought, giving her a thumbs-up. “Way to go. You fooled the hell out of me.”
“I knew I couldn’t make it look too easy, or they’d be suspicious. I apologize for putting you and Jake in danger. But I had to make it look real.” She smiled. “After those goons bring their prize back to Leo, I can hardly
wait
for his gloating phone call.”
“I don’t want to rain on your parade, Janie, but a man like Leo Rolf isn’t going to suffer defeat kindly. You’ll have more visitors once the bad news makes it to New York. I think everyone should clear out for a while.”
Roman nodded. “Jake’s right. Don’t look so surprised, baby. Leo’s life is at stake, and he knows it. Between jail and you, it’s no contest.”
“My aunt has a cabin not too far from here,” Jake said. “No one’s used it for years. It doesn’t have a connection to any of us. We could go there.”
“Sounds good,” Roman said with a done-deal decisiveness. “Then in a few days, we’ll check in with Leo. Boy Scout that I am, I just
happen
to have my rerouting equipment with me. We can call him from—say—Rio or Tokyo. That should keep him from sending anyone here again.”
“You’re so clever, darling.” Janie gave him an affectionate look. “But could we call him from Paris? Leo knows I adore Paris.”
Roman shrugged. “Wherever. You name it.”
“And you’re a darling, Jake, to offer us safe haven,” Janie said effusively, her spirits high. “I won’t have to worry a second about Matt. Although Leo’s priorities seem to be his bank account first. The awful men weren’t even interested in Matt—
thank God
! So, let’s see . . . I’ll quickly check on Matt, then I’ll come back and pack. Oh, dear.” Janie frowned. “What about Liv? She’s
not
going to want to leave her gardening or . . . grapes or whatever. She’s out there working from morning to night.”