“Actually,” interrupted Bindi, stomping across the dark wood floor, dressed in her top and pants, but obviously missing her bra, “we were in the middle of having sex, but now I’m going to make s’mores.”
Nate averted his eyes. “Man, tell her to put something on or I’m going to give her my jacket.”
Bindi shook her head and vanished into the kitchen.
“Nate, this wasn’t some scheme. We’re not together to hurt you or get back at Dad. I want Bindi in ways I didn’t even want Tabitha. She knows me, Nate. Really, she knows me and she’s with me.”
“What’s in this for her?”
“We’re not together on a deal.”
“So all of a sudden, after being enemies, y’all are lovers?”
“She was in the Seychelles on some trip Dad let her plan a while back. I went looking for her because I thought she might know where Dad went. She didn’t know, but she agreed to come back to Vegas with me in case he tried to make contact with her.”
Nate glanced warily at the kitchen and lowered his voice. “Sounds off—the fact that he didn’t have the trip canceled when he broke things off. Can you trust her, Santino?”
“I do trust her. I’ll regret it later if I have to, but this is working for us.”
He saw Bindi appear in the kitchen doorway, now wearing a plain apron over her see-through shirt.
“There’s something you need to know. Then you both can make up your minds about whether or not you trust me. Al gave me a bit over two million euros to keep in a deposit account on Mahé. He’s always been a big spender, and he’d told me that we were going to be married by the time of the vacation, so I really didn’t think it was all that odd.” She looked at Santino. “The day after Valentine’s, I emptied the account and had it closed. I donated it to a conservation society in the Seychelles. It can be verified. I didn’t want to take any of it back with me.”
“Two million,” Nate said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That much money? It sounds like storage.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he’d had you put that much in the account?” Santino asked her, his mind whirling as these new puzzle pieces started to come to light. Storage, Nate had said.
“I thought it was ridiculous that Al would use me and a Valentine’s vacation to get himself out of Dodge. And I didn’t know if you really had my back. We had sex, but we didn’t put all our cards on the table. So does that answer your question?”
Nate cringed.
“After I found out somebody disabled the security system at the villa, I didn’t feel all that safe and decided I should leave.”
“It was disabled?” Damn, he’d accepted that she’d simply forgotten to set it. He should’ve been on sharper alert. How else had her privacy been compromised on that island?
Besides you going out there with her entire history memorized.
“Yes, completely unarmed. So I checked out, emptied that account and…” She lifted her hands, dropped them. “I still think you’re off about his plans. It’s been a few weeks since then and he hasn’t tried to contact me.”
“Nate?” someone called out, knocking before pushing open the door. Charlotte Blue walked into the condo. “Santino, are you coming with us to— Bindi Paxton?”
Bindi waved, and looked to him to explain.
But Nate beat him to it. “Let me catch you up, Lottie.”
“No, really, I think I can figure it out.” Charlotte turned on her heel. “We should leave, Nate.”
“Congratulations on the engagement,” Bindi said to the pair. “Santino told me a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t leak a word of it to anyone. So yes, Nate, to answer your earlier question, he can trust me.”
Without a backward glance, Nate and Charlotte left the condo. Santino walked to the still-open door and hesitated. “Are you leaving, too, after going through that grilling?”
Bindi ran to him, kissed him hard on the lips. “You defended me to your brother. He’s all the family you have left right now, and you faced him down to defend me.” She hugged him. “Why don’t we open up your new pig plant? It’s not an expensive night out with VIP access, though.”
“I don’t need VIP access to anything but you, Bindi.”
*
“ESPN’s legal analyst is on, talking about Alessandro Franco.”
Bindi, who’d been inspecting the leaves on her windowsill plants, set aside her magnifying glass and gardening kit to follow her roommate’s voice, which was absent of its usual singsong cadence. Perched on an arm of the living room sofa, Toya held her son against her chest and tipped her head toward the television.
“Breaking news.”
“Did they find him?” Bindi made a motion to clear the coffee table of its usual accumulation of designer accessories, baby toys, dishes and books and plenty other random things her friend touched on a daily basis, but it’d already been cleared. Not only cleared, but cleaned and lemony-fresh polished. Preoccupied, she sat on a corner of the table and listened to the analyst sandwiched between two sports anchors speak while she quickly read the information scrolling across the ESPN Bottom Line.
“…FBI has confirmed that Franco’s former legal counsel is cooperating within the confines of the confidentiality agreement he signed last year. Attorneys Chuck Constant and Waylon Spencer are expected to issue a statement by the end of the week addressing the unauthorized release of call records allegedly between Franco and former Las Vegas Slayers defensive lineman Jimar Fray. A representative of the firm has acknowledged that this was an internal action, though it’s yet to be confirmed whether or not the action was deliberate.”
“Dammit,” Bindi said, gnawing her bottom lip. “Former counsel. Did you catch the beginning of this, Toya? Did the analyst clarify whether someone in the office leaked the resignation decision as well as the records?”
“It was on, but I didn’t hear everything until the name penetrated. This is really getting strange. The man’s been missing for over a month. What about Gian DiGorgio? He’s being hunted, too, isn’t he?”
“No one has been able to get anything to stick without Al to give him up.”
“How certain are we that this is a suspect-skips-town story? What if there was—” Toya craned her neck to give Bindi a sympathetic look through her cat’s-eye glasses “—foul play?”
Please, don’t let it be that. Alessandro Franco had treated her carelessly, and she wanted him to face the consequences of his illegal activities, his abuse of power as an NFL team owner and, particularly, his cruel choice to pay someone to injure his own son. She didn’t wish him well, but she didn’t wish him death, either.
She thought of Gloria Franco’s name tattooed into a cross on Santino’s biceps. Would he add his father’s name, if…
Bindi stood up. “Toya, I need to go.”
“Somewhere?” Though evidently concerned, Toya asked no more than that.
“Be home soon.”
Bindi texted Drew Ross from the apartment building’s parking lot, and this time she did meet him in his corner office. This would be their final meeting, and she would not be joining The Vegas Beat.
She wanted out. In the beginning she’d wanted security, a chance to find her footing in the workforce, but to find that security by betraying someone she cared about seemed irredeemable and as dirty as anything she’d ever done.
“What I told you about Alessandro Franco’s lawyers dropping him—did you release that information?” Bindi asked, sitting across from him.
Drew, who hadn’t done so much as to stand or signal her to enter the office, watched her wordlessly from his taller, wider chair. On that side of the desk sat the superior; on the other side, the inferior. “Walk around to this side of the desk, Bindi,” he said, and his voice made her think of frost. “Look at The Beat’s home page.”
Bindi did, and reviewed the new stories as he scrolled to the bottom and then to the top. “I don’t see anything involving Franco.”
“We didn’t jump on it.
At your request, I held off. I thought you could get me more. Now ESPN and some third-rate sports blogs have freakin’ phone records. Did you know about the phone records?”
“No. I saw it on TV.”
“What do you have for me? Give me something. I need a competitive edge here—everyone’s on this now.”
“I’m not doing this anymore, Drew.”
“We have a deal.”
“Not anymore. I don’t want to be on your staff. I don’t want to be a double agent, either. This is a real family we’re targeting. I don’t want to get a job this way.”
“They’re all celebrities. Collateral damage.”
“Not to me.”
“Is this eleventh-hour change of heart out of respect for Alessandro, or because you’re letting his son screw you?”
Bindi put some space between them. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
“All right. You don’t have to give me a straight answer.” Drew steepled his fingers. “Just a word of advice. Every reporter knows if you got something to hide, you don’t parade it around the city. Think about that the next time y’all want to go to Try Me together. Now get out.”
Bindi couldn’t say she minded all that much that people knew she was seeing Santino Franco. Caring about him, spending time with him, wasn’t against any laws. The morality of their connection, the complexities of their relationship, was easy to judge but nearly impossible to genuinely understand.
Santino understood, and she did, and that was enough to fill her with strength and hope despite the turmoil she sensed was coming to a head.
Bindi was relieved to return to the tiny apartment that had, day by day, become a safe place for her. It had something to do with being used to seeing a baby crib in the living room and her friend’s random stuff adding character all throughout the place. Toya herself was a safe place, someone to laugh with at the end of a long day, someone who left food crumbs on the counter but always set aside leftovers in fresh-lock containers, someone to consult on all matters of makeup and clothes.
And the baby… Oh, that baby had hold of Bindi’s heart and wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. She was all right with that.
Coming through the door, she wanted to curl up on the sofa and hug him.
She ventured forward, calling, “Toya-Toya-bo-Boya, I’m back,” as she pursued the baby crib.
Only, it wasn’t there.
Technically, it was, but it was dissembled.
“Toya?” Bindi stepped over the scatter of parts and the now-shrink-wrapped mattress, heading to the hallway. “Toya, what’s going on with the baby’s crib?”
Toya emerged from the bathroom with her son bundled in towels. “Hey, Bindi. Holden and I are moving out.”
“Moving out?” The woman had swept in like a funnel cloud and was leaving the same way? “When—and why?”
“My parents asked me to come home to Iowa. When I visited, we had this amazing heart-to-heart, and they don’t want Holden and me to stay so close to Asher right now. It’s just too tangled with all these feelings and high emotions getting in the way of what’s best for the baby. So we talked this morning and I said I would come home. They’re arranging everything—the moving guys, the flight—and you’re getting a basket! As a thank-you for opening your home to me. It should be here in a few days.” Breathless, Toya smiled. “I didn’t tell them about the stripper pole.”
Bindi laughed. She was sure she’d cry first—a loud, all-out Toya-style bawl. “Save it for Thanksgiving conversation or something.” She paused. “Does the leaving ASAP have something to do with that ESPN breaking news we heard today? My connection to Alessandro Franco?”
“No,” Toya said emphatically. “You are not involved in that. I know it. Holden and I have been nothing but snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug safe with you.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, you. I’m going to miss you, girl.”
“Me, too. It’s so sudden. I have zero time to get used to the idea of you and Holden leaving. I went and let myself get stuck on you guys.”
“And that’s okay. We’re stuck on you, too.” Toya offered the baby and Bindi took him, even though it’d hurt that much more to let him go. “You’re truly my friend. You inspired me to get past losing Asher and the settlement. I’m going to be the most kickass Toya Keech I can be.”
“You gave up his name?”
“I did. Already filed the paperwork.” Toya followed Bindi to the living room. Funny, now that she knew her friend was leaving, she could see the signs. Things put in their place and clean, fewer toys scattered around the apartment. “I decided to get Holden all washed and clean before we take off. Want to help get him ready to go?”
Bindi almost said sure, but a half gasp, half sob stopped her. She shook her head and went into the kitchen. She needed a friend within reach when Toya and her child left. Dialing Santino’s phone, she did her best to control her wobbling voice as she asked him if he’d be free to come over tonight.
When he showed up under an hour later, just missing the moving men who’d loaded up the baby’s bed and taken the last of Toya’s belongings, she was almost as relieved as she’d been the first time he’d come to her apartment, carrying a car seat brand-new in its box.
Toya, on her way out with her baby wide-eyed and too cute to say goodbye to, stopped short when she saw Santino in the doorway. Turning to Bindi, she said, “He’s the someone, isn’t he?”
“He is.”
Toya grinned slyly at Santino. “The way you looked at her gave you away in two seconds flat. Take care of her, okay? Try not to leave food crumbs on the countertop.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Always.” Toya gestured for Bindi to join her in the hallway. “I cracked open my nest egg to give you something in appreciation for taking Holden and me in.”
“Wait, the basket?”
“No, no, that’s from my folks. There’s an envelope on top of the refrigerator. I paid for you to attend a horticulture program. Very low commitment, and I thought you’d enjoy it. It starts next month, just in time for Arbor Day. Read the info in the packet and decide if you’re interested. I just wanted to say thanks.”
“Thank you,” Bindi said, and there were the tears again. She opened her arms wide to hug Toya and the baby, and when they left, she went back into the apartment and sat next to her someone on the sofa.
“Since I don’t want to think about the hell spinning around my family, and you want to get your mind off your friends, I had this idea.”
Not sex. She wasn’t in the frame of mind for it, and emotionally she needed a different kind of consolation. She would tell him no and see if he’d leave straightaway. Better to find out now than become even more tightly entwined with him. “What’s the idea?”
Santino pointed at the television. “Madden NFL. The stuff’s in my truck. Just say the word.”
Oh, yes. You’re my someone. “The word.”
They hooked up the console, and even though Bindi struggled to grasp the functions of the game despite knowing her stuff when it came to actual NFL gameplay, she they kept at it until she finally admitted defeat. “I guess I’m not versatile,” she said. “I’m outdoorsy. Topiary art and diving and exploring.”
“You dive?”
“Yes. In fact, I did on the Seychelles. I have pics.” She picked up her phone and selected the correct album. The first was a selfie of her in a wetsuit. Figuring he’d get bored after a few finger swipes, she got up for a bottle of water and left him to it. When she returned, she heard people speaking.
Her voice…and who was the male? Drew Ross.
“…why Alessandro Franco’s golden boy would enlist you.”
For a moment she went light-headed, hearing everything that had been good in her life tumble down. Bindi rushed to the sofa. “Give me the phone. You don’t want to know this way.”
Santino held the phone away, his face made of stone. “You didn’t want me to know at all.”
“
Santino thinks his father wants to find me. He believes I have something Al wants.”
“Give me the damn phone, okay?” She reached, and when she made contact, he let her take it away. “Santino, I ended that deal with him. He’s a creep and he’s shady—”
“Yet you had a deal with him to begin with.” He stood up, walked around the sofa. “When did you end the deal?”
“Uh…”
“The truth. Just let yourself spit it out. Assuming you’re even capable of it.”
That hurt, but what could she say? “I ended it today, but I didn’t tell him anything except what you told me about Alessandro’s attorneys resigning as his counsel.”
“Oh, the news that blew up every damn sports news station today?”
“Drew said his people didn’t leak it, and he was pissed enough that I believe him. It had to have been the person from the law firm who also leaked the phone records—I never knew about those, so how could it have been me? He’s a sleaze, but I don’t believe his paper was behind this.” She tried to come forward but he moved backward. “I’m sorry, Santino. I…I never meant to hurt you. Hurt us.” She should have ended things with Drew a long time ago, and she could barely breathe around the regret.
“You said I could trust you, but you had an active side scheme going with that Ross bastard. Bindi…no. This isn’t going to work. You won’t let it work.”
“I won’t? I’m standing here listening to you tear me to shreds, and I’m waiting for you to finally admit that you had me tailed to the Seychelles. You didn’t suddenly remember my Valentine’s vacation. You had somebody find me, right? And they were so thorough, weren’t they? Reporting to you that I brought along purple suitcases? And why weren’t you surprised to find out what happened to me when I was a kid?”
“I’m not going to lie about it—yes, I knew. But I didn’t search for you. A guy stepped to me with a file in his jacket, and it had your life on paper.” He appeared repentant and unapologetic. How could that be? “I went to the Seychelles to find my father. That was my purpose, and it was why I was desperate enough to do what I had to do to find you. Yeah, I’d take the information if it meant getting to my father. Don’t act like it’s unimaginable.”
Mine Tonight Page 16
