by Amy Reece
Hugh closed the office door behind him and sat in the chair across from his godfather before answering. “I need your help, Uncle Teddy.”
“Of course. I’ll do whatever I can.” Teddy gave Hugh a serious look and clasped his hands in front of him on the desk.
“Good. I need you to tell me how much you owe and who you owe it to.”
Teddy sat back, a frown now marring his features. “Hugh, I—”
“No, Ted.” Hugh had no intention of being denied. He had come for specific information and he was damned well going to get it. “Do not fuck with me today. How much and who?”
Teddy swallowed hard and named a sum that made Hugh’s eyes widen. “Angelo Fiore. That’s who holds the note. I can’t begin to pay him back right now. The restaurant is just now starting to get back in the black since the recession.”
Hugh was writing the check—from his personal account—as Teddy finished speaking. “Here.” He ripped it out of the checkbook and handed it across the desk. “Now tell me everything you know about Angelo Fiore.”
Uncle Teddy took the check, his eyes bugging as he took in the number of zeros. “Hugh, I can’t accept another loan from DeLuca Construction. Your dad already—”
“It’s not from my dad or the company. It’s my money and it’s not a loan. It’s a gift, but it comes with strings. I need you to tell me about the Fiore family.”
“What are you planning to do?” Teddy opened a drawer and slipped the check inside.
Hugh leaned back in his chair, more relaxed now that he knew Teddy would cooperate. He was in his element, in the world of business where money and information traded hands, rather than Chrissy’s world of guns and violence. How could she and Finn stand it? He’d probably never fully understand. “It depends on what you tell me. Now what do you know?”
Teddy sighed and began to talk. “I don’t know much about the family personally. I was desperate for money and I knew I could get a quick loan from Angelo. I’d borrowed from him before and paid it back, so I knew he’d come through this time. But apparently Angelo has made some bad investments recently and decided to call in his debts to cover expenses.”
“What kind of investments?”
“I don’t know. I’ve heard rumors, but nothing definite. You know the property on the corner of Central and 4th?”
“The old Hotel Amador? That place is a wreck!”
“Yeah, but apparently Angelo thought he could turn it into a popular boutique hotel. From what I hear, he’s lost a shit ton of money on it and can’t make payroll.”
Hugh stood, causing Teddy to do the same. “Okay. I think I can figure something out from what you’ve told me. I expect a phone call if you hear anything else.”
“No problem. I appreciate this, Hugh. I really do. I wish I knew some way to show you how much it means to me.”
“You’re family, Teddy. DeLucas take care of their family.” As far as he was concerned, that was the end of it. He gave his godfather a hug and left, grabbing a quick sandwich to take back to the office with him. He had a long afternoon of research ahead, but he was hopeful for the first time in weeks.
***
Chrissy
She rounded the corner into the park, near the end of her five-mile run, and saw Hugh sitting on a bench, a large cooler at his side and Bob at his feet. Her heart leapt stupidly while she told herself she was annoyed and fixed a frown on her face. She bent down to pet Bob as he trotted to her, wriggling in delight.
“Hey, Bob.” She rubbed his silky golden ears and kissed him between his eyes. “Hugh, what are you doing?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious. I’m not giving up.” He gestured to the cooler. “I brought dinner.”
“Oh, Hugh.” What was she going to do with him? He looked completely adorable, sitting on the park bench with a hopeful expression on his handsome face.
“Come on, Chrissy. You’ve gotta eat. It’s a beautiful evening for a picnic. I brought some wine.”
Oh, he didn’t play fair. She was out of wine at home and hadn’t relished the thought of running to the grocery store. It had been a frustrating day and she’d made very little progress on the murder investigation, and none on the one into Jared Daniels. She hardened her heart and prepared to turn him down and finish her run. “Fine. I guess one glass would be okay.” Where did that come from? God, how pathetic could she get?
He grinned and turned to open the cooler. He pulled out a bottle of chilled Sauvignon Blanc and poured her a plastic cupful. “Here. Have a seat while I get the rest.”
She sat and stroked Bob’s head while Hugh spread a plaid tablecloth on the grass beside the bench. He unpacked fruit, a loaf of French bread, and several varieties of cheese. It was perfect and romantic. She wished she wasn’t a sweaty mess, but decided it was his problem. He gestured for her to sit across from him and proceeded to prepare a plate of food, which he handed to her. “Thanks for staying.”
“Thanks for asking.” She took a sip of the wine, cool and crisp, just the way she liked it. “You’re not very good at this whole break-up thing, you know?”
“That’s for sure. I kinda suck at it, huh?” He sipped from his own plastic cup and winked at her.
She stared at him for a moment, then felt laughter bubble up. “Yeah, you do.” She turned her attention to her plate of food for a few minutes, enjoying the creamy Brie and sweet grapes. “This is great, Hugh. Thanks.”
“Of course. How was your day?”
She shook her head; she couldn’t figure him out. They’d broken up, yet here they were, enjoying a romantic picnic supper in the park as if they were still dating. How was she supposed to move on when he did this sort of thing? “Fairly frustrating, actually. I’ve hit a brick wall with the case.”
“I’m sorry, Chrissy. I know you’ll figure it out, though.” He topped off her wine as he spoke.
It was nice sitting across from him, enjoying a simple meal without any of the stress that had marred their relationship right before the breakup. “Did you play football in high school?”
He looked taken aback. “Where did that come from?”
She shrugged and reached for more cheese and bread. “I’m enjoying this. I don’t want to ruin it by fighting. I want to talk about anything other than my job.”
“Fair enough. Yeah, I played football, but I was better at baseball. I played all four years and got a scholarship.”
“Did you ever want to go pro?” She realized they hadn’t had time to talk about things like this before and was eager to find out as much as she could about his past. She pushed away the pesky thought that it wasn’t strictly her business any longer.
He smiled, a bit self-consciously it seemed. “Sure, but I wasn’t nearly good enough. What about you? I can’t picture you as a cheerleader.”
She laughed and sipped her wine. “Hardly. I ran cross country and played tennis.”
“Do you still play?”
“I still have a racket, but it’s been years.”
“Well, maybe you could teach me.” He smiled at her, then looked down at his plate.
She frowned slightly at this rare hint of vulnerability from him; he was usually so strong and confident. “Maybe.” She cleared her suddenly clogged throat and changed the subject. It was such a pleasant evening and she was loath to ruin it with anything related to their relationship. She had no idea where it was heading, but she knew she wanted to be with him, if he could only find a way to calm down about her job. But for the first time in days she was hopeful.
He produced chocolate chip cookies for dessert that tasted homemade, with big chunks of dark chocolate and crisp pecans in a buttery cookie.
“These are amazing. I’m going to have to run an extra couple of miles to work them off. Did you make them?”
“Uh, no. I stopped by Mel’s place this afternoon and she was baking. I mooched enough from her for the picnic.” He took a bite of his own cookie. “Oh, wow. Jeez, these are good. I’m glad Finn had the go
od sense to marry that woman.”
Chris laughed and reached to wipe a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth, stopping suddenly when she realized she no longer had the right. “Sorry,” she whispered and awkwardly pulled her hand back. “You have a little chocolate…” She gestured to his mouth.
He wiped it away, sucking the chocolate from his thumb and flashing her a crooked smile.
She bit her lip, concentrating on not launching herself across the blanket to kiss him like she wanted. Instead, she ate the last bit of her cookie and brushed the crumbs from her fingers before standing to leave. “Thanks for the picnic, Hugh. It was really nice. I gotta go. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you.” She turned firmly and put her earbuds in so she wouldn’t be tempted if he called out to her.
The next morning, she had a hard time focusing on her work; the picnic kept intruding upon her thoughts and she found herself re-examining and analyzing every word he’d said and every look he’d given her. She knew he was trying to win her back—he hadn’t exactly tried to keep it a secret—and she knew she was softening. But she had to stay strong; unless and until he could learn to accept her career choice and not go behind her back, trying to sabotage her, he was off limits. How, exactly, she would know when or if he attained this magical acceptance, she had no idea. With that rather depressing thought, she turned her full attention to her casework.
Finn was busy filing a report on another case they’d closed the day before, which left her free to continue her investigation of FBI Special Agent Jared Daniels and the Argyros family. Neither was going particularly well at the moment, however. What little she could find on Daniels showed him to be squeaky clean, and she was at a brick wall with the Argyros family. She worked fruitlessly until lunch.
“I’m starving,” she said to Finn as she stretched her back. “You ready to grab a bite? I’m kind of feeling like Italian today.”
“Can’t. Sorry. I have physical therapy.” He stood and grabbed his jacket. “I shouldn’t be too late getting back.” He was down to every other week for PT and hoping to be released entirely soon.
“No problem. Want me to bring you something?”
“Nah. I’ll grab a sandwich or something on the way back.”
She chose a small Italian restaurant Finn had introduced her to. Some family member or connection owned it and they always got the best service. It wasn’t nearly as upscale as Bella Marcone, where Hugh had taken her, but it was perfect for a weekday lunch. The waitress had just set a glass of iced tea in front of her when Jared Daniels took the seat across from her, smiled at the waitress, and ordered a tea for himself. She was angry with herself for being surprised; she was slipping if she didn’t realize she was being followed. She refused to consider the possibility that he was so skilled she hadn’t noticed.
“Make yourself right at home, Jared.”
“Well, thanks, Chris. Don’t mind if I do. So, what’s good here?” He reached across the table to snag her menu.
“The calzone, so long as you’re not in too much of a hurry. It takes a while to bake, but it’s to die for.”
“I have all the time in the world.”
When the waitress returned, they both ordered the calzone.
“So, why are you following me? Did you purposely wait until Finn wasn’t around?” She tried to appear nonchalant as she sipped her tea.
“Absolutely. He doesn’t seem to like me for some strange reason. Besides, I wanted to talk to you alone.”
She had a theory as to why they didn’t get along: something along the lines of two ridiculously good-looking men not being able to share the same space, but she held her tongue. “Well, here I am. So long as you aren’t as pissy as you were the other day, I’m listening.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. You caught me in a bad moment.” He waited while the waitress delivered their salads. “You’ve been prying into my background, Detective Hart. Find anything interesting?”
Damn, the FBI must have way better resources than the lowly state police if he already knew about it. “You like World of Warcraft and Madden NFL way more than you should. I didn’t find much beyond your video game addiction.” Why try to lie her way out of it? It was best to counter his brash accusation with boldness.
He chuckled as he dug into his salad. “It’s how I blow off steam. I hate running.” He added the last comment with raised eyebrows and a head tilt toward her. “I’m not on the take, you know. That’s, of course, why you and Lieutenant DeLuca decided to pry into my records.”
She was inclined to believe him; his words had the ring of truth and they hadn’t found anything suspicious. “Then why are you being so difficult about this case? I’ve worked with the FBI before and never had this much trouble.”
“I’m going to tell you, Chris, because you’ve been such a stubborn pain in my ass, and if I don’t, you’ll keep poking your beautiful nose into the FBI’s business until you find something. But you may just get a good man killed along the way, so I’m going to tell you what you have no business knowing.”
She toyed with her salad while she waited for him to continue; she didn’t dare speak and inadvertently cause him to change his mind.
“We have someone undercover in the Argyros family and he’s close to the top. I need you and Finn to back off. We can’t afford anything that might cause Adrian Argyros to start looking at his people too carefully. I’m prepared to give you something fairly juicy in return for you forgetting where you put the Argyros file.”
“It would have to be extremely juicy because I have an exceptional memory.”
“How does the identity of the murderer of the six bodies found on Mr. DeLuca’s construction site sound?”
She barely managed to keep from choking on her tomato. “It sounds fairly juicy. How long have you known about this person?”
“Not long; don’t fret, Detective Hart. I can almost read your mind.” He sipped his tea as he smirked. “You are calling me the most appalling names in your mind right now, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea, Jared,” she said through gritted teeth. “Tell me the fucking name.”
He had the audacity to chuckle. “Ah, here’s our calzones. They look delicious, don’t they?” He smiled again at the waitress, nearly causing her to drop Chris’s lunch in her lap.
She waited until the waitress had walked away, grinding her teeth as Jared made a production out of pouring marinara over his calzone and cutting into it.
“This is wonderful,” he said around a mouthful. “All right. You’ve been patient and I sense you’re about to launch yourself across the table and punch my teeth in.” He reached into his suit coat and extracted a business-sized envelope. “The name and address of the man is inside.” He handed it across the table to her. “He’s retired now, but a few decades ago he was the top ‘fixer’ for several of the crime organizations in the southwest.”
She ripped the envelope open and pulled out the single sheet of paper. “George Staphros, aka Georgi the Weasel. Current alias Grady Smithson. And you have evidence he’s the shooter?”
“I’ll have it sent over this afternoon, as soon as I have your word that you’ll drop the Argyros case.”
“But wasn’t this Staphros hired by them? How do I make a case against him without mentioning the Argyros family?” She folded the sheet and slid it back into the envelope.
“Let the FBI handle that aspect of it. We can make sure it all happens without our guy being exposed. I’ll need your word, Chris, otherwise the evidence stays with me.”
She would love nothing more than to throw the envelope back in his face, but she and Finn had made zero progress on the case lately and had a mountain of other cases waiting for their attention. “Yes, fine. You have my word we’ll leave the Argyros case alone. I still reserve the right to continue the investigation into the Fiore family, however.”
“Not a problem. I’ll have the evidence file sent over later this afternoon. Now, let’s enjoy the rest of this delicious m
eal in peace, shall we?”
He was as good as his word; the evidence file on George Staphros arrived a little over an hour after she returned to the precinct. Finn had returned a few moments earlier, but looked so exhausted by his physical therapy she decided not to tell him about her impromptu lunch with Jared; he’d most likely be too annoyed to see the benefit of the deal she’d taken on their behalf. It could wait until tomorrow when his pain wasn’t directing his mood quite so much.
She was quietly reading through the file—a comprehensive account of the crime and evidence the FBI had compiled against Staphros—when her cell phone buzzed with an unknown number. “This is Chris.”
“Detective Hart?” The voice was female and sounded afraid.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“It’s Ariana Argyros. I need to speak to you, Detective. Alone. Can we meet, please?”
Chapter Fifteen
Hugh
“Mr. Fiore will see you now.”
Hugh stood and followed the receptionist back to the ostentatious, yet slightly shabby office of Angelo Fiore.
“Mr. DeLuca, how do you do?” Angelo stood and came around his desk to shake Hugh’s hand. “I’d heard you’d taken the reins at DeLuca Construction. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Fiore.”
“Angelo, please.”
“Of course. Call me Hugh.”
They spent a few minutes in polite conversation as Fiore asked about Hugh’s parents and other family members before getting down to business. “What can I do for you today, Hugh? I doubt this is purely a social call.”
“I’m here to talk about the Amador building, Angelo. Word has it you’re looking for investors.” Hugh sat back in the chair he’d been offered and waited.
The man across the desk from him looked slightly taken aback. “I don’t recall mentioning that to anyone. How in the world would you know about my interests in the Amador Hotel?”
