He crosses his arms. “It seems we are more alike than you would want to admit. Instead of completing the job you were hired to do, you took advantage of the situation.”
The words hit their mark, but I can’t let him get in my head. “I’ve learned . . . so much from you over the years. But probably the most important thing I learned was—Do whatever I must to save myself and the job. Those are words I worked very hard to live up to.”
“You’ve come a long way since that trailer park in North Carolina. I had high hopes for you, but what a disappointment you turned out to be,” he sneers at me.
“I was your best asset and we both know it. You know nothing about disappointments.”
He’s leaning over me, forcing me to tilt my head back to see his face. “How long have you been planning to betray me?”
“Four years,” I answer, without bothering to correct him. “Only half as long as you have been planning to betray me.”
I can tell he’s thinking back, trying to determine what happened four years ago that would make me turn on him.
Finally he says, “The Tate job.”
I nod. “The Tate job.”
He leans back and spreads his arms out. “Are you going to get to the point of all this? I’m assuming there is a reason for this little stunt.”
“Amy told you she had information on Victor Connolly and the crimes his family has committed, but what she really had was information that shows you’d been double-crossing them for years. Not a good idea to screw over one of the biggest crime families on the East Coast. She had it all: wire transfers, documents, and communications that show you’ve been skimming money, selling their secrets, and using information to your benefit instead of theirs. You’ve made them think you are protecting them when in reality you’re their biggest threat. But it was useless to have blackmail on you when I didn’t know your real name, Christopher.”
All humor has been wiped from his face. “Cut the bullshit. What do you want, Lucca?”
“Absolutely nothing. And it’s Miss Porter now. I’ve expended all the energy that I care to on you. This is just a friendly warning, since we go back so far. You have some old friends waiting for you outside. We really shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.” I stare at him two seconds, then three, before I add, “Did you think I wouldn’t have a contingency plan in place?”
One eyebrow raises as he stares at me. He’s always been good at wielding silence like a weapon, and this moment is no different.
“Today doesn’t end the way you think it does,” he says, his face just inches from mine. “You better look over your shoulder every chance you get, because I promise you one day I will be there.”
“You’ve already taken the one thing I’ve cared about. Lucca Marino is gone, dead and buried. There’s nothing left for you to hold over me.”
He moves away from me and it takes everything in me not to collapse on the floor. He throws the door open and it slams against the wall.
Just before he leaves the vault, I say, “Don’t get sentimental now. It’s just business.”
He’s on his phone the second he hits the bank lobby. The woman who let us in the room approaches me but I wave her off. “We don’t need the box any longer. The key is still in it.”
“No problem, Mrs. Hale, I just need you to sign the closing documents . . .”
I ignore her and follow him out of the bank and see the exact moment he spots Victor Connolly and several members of the Connolly family waiting on the steps outside. He hesitates a few seconds then ends his call, sliding his phone in his back pocket. He seems to stand a bit taller before walking out to face the man he has stolen millions from. He doesn’t look back at me once.
He’s ushered into the back of the SUV, while Victor Connolly nods at me before getting into the front passenger seat. We had all the information Amy had collected sent to his hotel room last night with the promise of delivering the man who betrayed him today. I do believe Mr. Smith has probably gotten himself out of a lot of bad spots in the past, but I don’t believe he’s walking away from this one.
“Damn, L, I wish I would have hooked you up with video, too, because I would have loved to see his face when he opened that box,” Devon says in my ear.
“I feel like I’m going to vomit.” Now that it’s over, the adrenaline that has been fueling me is leaving quickly. “It’s hard to reconcile the guy I knew as George with Mr. Smith.”
“A total mind fuck. Grab a cab. Your flight leaves in an hour and a half.”
* * *
Just landed, I text before throwing my phone on the passenger seat.
It’s a thirty-minute drive to my destination, and I am exhausted. I’m not sure I can make it the last few miles before falling asleep. Thankfully, the driveway comes into sight before too long. I turn in, then make my way down the winding gravel road.
The front light is on, which I appreciate since it’s completely dark outside. I drag myself from the car, hauling myself up the porch steps. Leaning on the bell, I don’t let up until the door jerks open.
“That’s a little much, don’t you think?” Devon says as he pulls the door open.
“It’s been the longest three days of my life.” I fall onto the couch and kick my shoes off. “I’m sleeping for three days straight.”
“There’s a bedroom down the hall,” he says, but throws a blanket over me, then cuts out the lamp on the side table because he knows I’m not moving.
“I guess everything went well?”
It takes a lot of effort, but I lift my head. She’s in simple pajamas and her hair is sticking up in every direction, and the petty part of me is glad I woke her up after the week I’ve had.
“Looks like I won’t be going down for your murder after all.”
Amy Holder lets out a laugh as my eyes fall shut and I’m dead to the world.
Lucca Marino—Four Years Ago
The Tate job in Fort Worth, Texas, was the first job where I knew for sure I was not the only person doing jobs for Mr. Smith. Since Devon had been watching the security feed for days before I showed up, he was able to get images of the other people sent there for the same purpose. When I asked Devon to track down everyone who tried to retrieve the painting from the Tate home, he did what he could.
And it’s why I’m standing on a sandy street in a small Florida town, staring at the cutest pink beach house. I can’t see the ocean from here but I can hear it.
The front path is just a collection of oddly shaped stones in a loose line leading to the porch. If she’s anything like me, she already knows I’m out here.
When I’m a few feet from the door, it opens.
“Hi,” I say, with a big smile on my face.
“Can I help you?”
“Amy Holder? Can we talk a minute?”
She’s on guard, as she should be. Same as I would be in her place. Your safe haven is one you protect at all costs and rarely suffer strangers showing up unannounced.
“You can say what you want from there.”
I nod and think about the best way to proceed. “I need to talk to you about the Tate job in Fort Worth.”
Raised eyebrows are the only reaction I get from her.
“We have the same employer,” I add.
Her arms cross in front of her chest. “You should leave.”
Damn. I can see it in her eyes. She’s about to take off.
I hold up my hand as if I’m going to stop her from fleeing. “I would feel the same way you do right now if someone showed up at my place like this. We really need to talk, but I’m going to put the when and where in your hands.” Digging in my bag, I pull out a pen and a receipt from the gas station where I just filled up, then scribble my info on the back. Looking right at her so my sincerity is clear, I say, “My number. And my real name. The one only a few people have. It’s important that we speak. I’ll be in Panama City Beach until I hear from you.”
I walk back to the street, put the paper in her mailbox, and leave without her saying another word. I’m taking a huge risk by doing this, but I don’t have another choice.