Best In Show (Mina's Adventures Book 6)

by Maria Grazia Swan

  Favorite store? Clothes? She would rather hear what had happened to him, where he’d disappeared to after the accident and why? He looked unharmed. It was all so confusing.

  Reality still hadn’t sunk into her consciousness when Mina found herself in the bedroom staring at some garment bags with the Nordstrom logo. Gino remembered? He’d once gone shopping at the Nordstrom in South Coast Plaza with her and Margo. As a matter of fact, he was the reason she had ended up in the red dress at the charity gala. At the sight of the packages her upbringing dictated a polite, “No, thank you, it’s too much, really.” But she felt like a child on Christmas morning and couldn’t wait to see what delightful surprises the bags held.

  When Diego closed the door behind her, she understood there was more to the gift than thoughtfulness. This was a distraction to keep her occupied while the two men discussed business. Giddiness left her, replaced by a sense of meaningless, all the while realizing that she wasn’t being fair to Diego, who led an unusual life.

  She looked around at the bedroom, at the elegant furnishings and the total absence of anything personal. Perhaps it was a high-end hotel room? A foretelling of what her life with Diego would be like? Mina sighed.

  Enough with the pity party. She opened the first bag. Gino’s subdued sense of fashion was evident, and she was thankful because there was a complete change of clothes, from underwear to a skirt with matching top and sweater. Everything of stretchy fabric, and perfect to fit a small size. If the men were talking, they kept their voices low, since Mina couldn’t hear a thing. Disappointed, she stepped into the bathroom to freshen up before putting on her new outfit. She noticed a low pile of clothes on the spotless white marble floor. Familiar clothes. The same ones Diego had worn the night of the accident.

  Maybe they needed washing. She could at least fold them for him. The first thing she grabbed was his blue linen shirt. It had a rip on a sleeve and several brownish stains. Past the salvageable state? She looked closer at the shirt and the hair on her arms stood on end. She dropped the shirt as if it scorched her fingers, for she had no doubt that the brown stains were dried blood. Whose blood was it? Diego’s?

  She had to know.

  In a panic, she dressed and burst into the living room. It was empty. Diego and Gino sat on the terrace, but there was nothing relaxed or leisurely about their demeanor. They sat facing each other, Gino somehow stooping to listen to Diego closely. Did they sense her looking at them? They turned simultaneously and saw her in all her anguish. Diego stood first and came to her, his smile fading as he came closer.

  “What’s wrong? Are you sick? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. It can’t be the clothes, you look beautiful.”

  She read the confusion in his eyes. “The clothes..” she said.

  “Bella, it’s all right, we’ll get you something else.”

  Gino, by the open glass door, looked puzzled and a bit disappointed.

  “In the bathroom—your clothes.” Her eyes searched Diego’s arm. The blood stains had been on the shirt’s left sleeve, yet his arm seemed fine, not a scratch on it.

  He understood. “Oh, Mina, I’m so sorry, it’s not what you think.” He turned to Gino, “Don’t forget to take them with you.” A pause. “Incinerator.” It sounded like an order.

  Was he telling Gino to burn the clothes?

  Gino’s phone chirped. He fished it from his pocket with the same enthusiasm you fish a cockroach from your drink. “Sì?” His face relaxed a little. “Hello detective, oh, sure.” A chuckle. “Hello Dan. Yes, he’s here, let me put you on speaker.” Gino talked while keeping his eyes on Diego, as if seeking approval.

  Diego looked at Mina and then nodded to Gino.

  “Mina is also here with us.”

  Ah, a warning about what not to talk about?

  “Hi, Mina, I heard what happened to you. I’m glad you’re okay. How are you feeling?” De Fiore asked.

  “I’m fine, ready to get back home to my cats.”

  “Did you find them?” Diego asked.

  “Yes, but not quite the way you told me.”

  Mina knew each word was being carefully chosen so as not to... what, alarm her?

  “Dan, can you be more specific?” Diego asked.

  A pause, then De Fiore said, “One dead, the other one is in surgery, we aren’t sure he’s going to make it.”

  “Damn.” Diego’s expression changed to the one she seldom saw yet could never forget, a lethal stranger with burning eyes.

  Gino, pale, hands shaking, managed to plop the phone on the table, then he sat down, avoiding looking at her or Diego, who sat opposite him.

  What was happening? Who had died?

  “Not good. Who would have known?” Diego said.

  “We went through the place thoroughly. This was not a random pit stop. Apparently they spent a lot of time there. For all we know, they used the storage place as their home base. You were right about one thing—brothers. We have no idea when or where they entered the United States.”

  “Amateurs,” Diego said. “No doubt. If only I understood their language better—I’m guessing Turkish? Maybe an old dialect? I could swear, after the picture-taking ceremony and a long phone call, they kept repeating something that in my not fully functioning brain translated to wrong man.”

  “Oh, my God, is that why they let you go? They kidnapped the wrong man?” Mina asked.

  Frosty silence followed her comment. Diego and Gino were not keen on sharing information, with anyone.

  “Mina, do you remember anything about the accident?” De Fiore to the rescue.

  “Huh, bright lights? Coming up very fast? Why?”

  “My theory says three, not two.” What was De Fiore talking about? “Whoever staged Mina as the driver knew what he was doing, cleaned up anything and everything. The only thing he couldn’t change and maybe didn’t foresee were her bruises caused by the safety belt. Right shoulder, passenger side”

  “See Gino?" Mina blurted out. "I told you the cops aren’t stupid. But why try to make me look like I was driving the car? We were hit from the back. We were stopped, waiting for the light to change.”

  “You had it figured out? About the bruises? I’m impressed kid. But, yeah, we’re asking the same question. The answer may be the key to everything, or nothing at all.” He paused, and his tone changed, “Gino, you leased the car a week ago, right?”

  “Yes, yes.” Again Gino spoke while studying Diego’s reaction.

  “We checked with the leasing company. The car had just come off a one-year lease. Except the lessee returned the car two weeks before the end of the contract because he was leaving the country.”

  “Huh, I didn’t know that. It seemed like a good car and the terms…were right…”

  “Go on, I’m listening.” Diego was suddenly alert, literally on the edge of his seat.

  “The accident investigator had the car towed in on a hunch. They found a tracking device that looked—weathered—you follow?”

  “The wrong man—a tracking device on a car leased to someone else…you have a name? A face?” Diego stood up and paced, an adrenaline rush kicking in.

  “Not yet. But we have another problem.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Unless the one in surgery makes it and tells us who shot him…you’re our prime suspect.”

  “Nonsense, I left my gun in the SUV I drove to the restaurant with Kalinda, and her assistant drove it home before I realized. So no, it wasn’t my gun.”

  “How were we going to trace a gun back to you anyhow? You’re not our prime suspect because of a gun. DNA,” De Fiore said.

  Diego studied his hands, his knuckles looked bruised, swollen.

  “Threads,” the detective said. “Maybe from a blue shirt? Look, it may be nothing, don’t know if your DNA can be found in our database. But I’m thinking, if I was a footloose young man with available transportation and a cute girlfriend, perhaps I would take a vacation. I hear Europe is lovely this time
of year.”

  “I see. I don’t like the idea of some unknown car thief running around free, and Mina does have a life this side of the ocean. But I don’t need to explain that to you, I’m sure you’ve had vacation-related conversations with her a few times before.”

  “Oh, yes, I see your point. Anyway, the general consensus is contract work. If the wrong merchandise was being delivered, it could have made the client angry, very angry at whomever made the mistake. I doubt the paying client knows details like the staging of the driver. In my opinion it’s totally unrelated at this point, but I still think Mina could use a vacation.”

  “Mina is going home to take care of her business. Today,” Mina insisted.

  “Dan, what’s the DNA turnaround time these days? Do I have twenty four hours?”

  “We have something more personal on the front burner, totally unrelated, eating at the turnaround time. One day for sure. I assume the outcome of the surgery may change all that. I don’t know. Keep the phone close. Got to go.” The phone went quiet.

  “Gino...”

  “Diego, how can I tell you how sorry I am? You’re like a brother to me. You put me in charge, and the first week on the job I manage to blow it and nearly get you killed…”

  “Gino, pay attention.” Diego’s expression was tense, his tone controlled. “Do you think this is in anyway related to Kalinda’s…problem?”

  Gino shook his head. “Too early to tell. They’re still going over every inch of her Maui place, and a computer expert arrived there a few hours ago. We should know by tonight. But if you’re correct about the wrong man theory, I don’t see the connection.”

  “Regardless, you need a car. No more leases or used cars. I don’t care how good of a deal you think you’re getting. Understand? Let’s go. We’ll give you a ride to where Margo’s car is stored, that will get you back to Hermosa Beach. Did you get me a phone?”

  Gino pulled a small package from his breast pocket and handed it to Diego. “It’s activated.” They exchanged glances.

  Why? Mina was once again on the outside looking in, and she didn’t like it.

  “But, Diego, I don’t have the key—you know—Margo’s car?”

  “Seriously Gino? Since when do we need a key? You worry me, my friend, you worry me. And by the way, Kalinda’s assistant—who vetted her?”

  Gino opened his mouth then closed it again.

  Diego sighed. He walked over to Mina. “How about I drive you home so we can talk without much interruption? Do you mind if we give Gino a ride to Margo’s car?”

  Mina shook her head. She was still too overwhelmed by the latest events to think logically. Gino disappeared into the bedroom. When he came back he had a bundle under his arm. Diego’s bloody clothes neatly wrapped in one of the Nordstrom bags? Life on the outside looking in was perhaps a better place to be, mused Mina.

  Chapter Eight

  The sense of excitement that had filled the car on their way to Hermosa Beach was missing on Diego’s and Mina’s drive back.

  All Mina could think about was a dead man with a brother in surgery. And did Diego do that? Yes, she knew that he had no qualms about handling guns, based on the few times a gun had been in the mix when he rescued her. This time his life was on the line, so what if he did shoot this person, this—kidnapper? It was self-defense. Surely Diego’s life was as important as her own. Perhaps she preferred not to know if he did or did not kill a man, to keep the delusion alive.

  “Mina.” He stretched out to find her hand. “You’re upset. No, no. No need to pretend, I can see the doubt in your eyes. Did he or did he not kill that man?”

  He was reading her mind, as usual.

  “I didn’t. I would have if necessary. I’m not denying it. Both men were—klutzy idiots. I know, don’t speak ill of the dead and all that. Luckily for them I didn’t have a gun, and lucky for me I know how to throw a good punch. I learned early on how to defend myself. When I left them, they were both alive, tied to chairs. I used their phone to alert De Fiore to get them picked up, and the next call was to Gino. I had no clue what had happened to you. It all went down so fast. When the air bags deployed, my first thought was to help you. You’re so little and, well—it can be deadly. I didn’t even hear the car door open. Just a prick on the neck, and I was out. The last thing I remember was a voice shouting orders. And I know that voice didn’t belong to my kidnappers.”

  His eyes stayed focused on the road. His comments never implied apologies. The implication was obvious—this is who I am, and this is what I do. Ball in your court. Once again Mina had to admit to herself that none of this was totally new, the only difference being that Diego seemed determined to make her face the reality of it all, and either accept it and learn to deal with it, or let’s end it now. Ball in your court.

  Eyes closed, Mina wished she could disappeared into the leather seat. Why must life be so hard? She held on to his hand like a lifebuoy. He obviously wanted to make their relationship work, and the only intelligent way was to be honest with each other. She understood and she appreciated the effort he was making. She knew how hard it must have been for him to let Gino witness Diego Moran, Mr. Coolness personified, openly acknowledge deep feelings for a woman.

  They drove the rest of the way in silence. By the time they reached the freeway exit to her place, her stomach made loud noises. She was famished. And, naturally, there wasn’t any food at her place.

  “Mina, would you like to grab something to eat? I won’t be able to stay. As soon as you’re settled in, I’ll get on my bike and go.”

  He was still talking when from the rear view mirror Mina noticed a speeding car approach from behind, lights flashing, sirens blaring. Her heart leaped to her throat. No, no…

  “Mina, relax, bella, you’re shaking. It’s highway patrol, probably rushing to an accident. They have no interest in me. I assure you.”

  “I just want to go home, please,” she said.

  He squeezed her hand. “About the food?”

  “I’ll manage. Missing a meal isn’t going to kill me.”

  The urge to be in familiar surroundings superseded her need for nourishment. She also needed to shelter Diego from—from the world? Stupid, absolutely stupid. What was she going to do? Lock him in a room? Wasn’t that what the dead man and his brother tried to do? She had to stop thinking about that. Had to.

  Without hesitation, he clicked the gate opener she kept clipped on the sun visor of the LTD. He never once asked; he had the whole system figured out. From there he drove directly to her garage and did the same thing, opening it with the remote control.

  Part of Mina resented his self-assurance, the other part wanted to rip his clothes off and let the world know he was her man. She hoped from the bottom of her heart he couldn’t really read her mind.

  They went from the garage to the house, Aria and Houdini already waiting behind the laundry room door. Mina was a step ahead of Diego when he closed the laundry room door with his foot while pulling her back by the elbow. Before she caught on to what was going on, she found herself pinned against the door, Diego kissing her with such a mix of lust and tenderness it wiped her mind clean of any doubts. Gun or no gun, she loved him, always had and always would.

  The rumbling of the Harley had long dissipated into the evening dusk by the time Mina dried her hair and applied the ointment the emergency room doctor had given her for the scrapes on her face. She looked glossy and spotted since some of the bruises were at different stages of healing. Her right shoulder sported a solid dark blue sore spot, but none of that could compare to the void in her heart. She missed him more now than when they were apart for two endless years.

  Her bathrobe was good enough for a visit to Millie. It surprised her that her dependable helper hadn’t come knocking yet. The phone rang—her house phone—strange. She picked up.

  “Is he still there?” A whisper.

  “Margo? Why are you whispering, and who are you talking about?”

  “I do
n’t want Gino to know I’m talking to you. He’s in such a bad mood, keeps mumbling that he’s a failure, and I’m sure it has to do with him—you know—the boss.”

  “Oh, come on already, stop it. First of all, his name is Diego, and he isn’t here, and maybe instead of whispering and assuming it’s Diego’s fault, you should ask Gino in a nice way if there’s something you can do to help.”

  “Oh, well... thanks for the car.” Still whispering.

  “The car? You mean your car? Don’t thank me, all we did was drop Gino where you left it, and that was on our way anyhow.”

  “See? You keep saying we, so he went to your house, right?”

  This was getting annoying. What was bugging Margo? Since when was she concerned about who Mina was with or without? “He drove me home, picked up his motorcycle, and left.” She left out the small detour through her bedroom.

  “You should have told me.” Margo sounded depressed and needy.

  “Tell you what? It’s not like we had the accident and the kidnapping mapped out in advance. What’s bugging you, anyhow?”

  “You’re my best friend, and you never told me about this boss and you being boyfriend-girlfriend. Why?”

  “Oh, Margo. I hadn’t seen him or heard from him in two years. Certainly you figured that out. You were with me all along, when I moved in here, started the shelter. Where do you think I kept him? In my closet?”

  “Huh, I guess that’s true. So it all started up again when Gino was getting all the phone calls from your Italians? Oh, I get it, he was one of them, calling Gino... got it. I wish you were here. No one talks to me. The Hawaiian lady, Kalinda, she’s in the living room, and she doesn’t look too happy. Gino is either on the phone or muttering and looking unhappy. And the other one, the one with the book, is in her bedroom, and I’m not sure but I think that Gino locked her in there.”

  “He did what? Margo, maybe I should talk to Gino. Can you ask him to call me when he can? I really need to walk over to the Ritzy Cats B&B before Millie goes to bed. I need to know what’s been going on, okay?”