Sloane Monroe Series Boxed Set (Books 1-3)

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Sloane Monroe Series Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Page 32

by Cheryl Bradshaw


  “Was it blue with a red brim and the C was done in red stitching?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, yeah, that’s the one. But what I thought was really weird was he wouldn’t ever take his glasses off, and both times I saw him, it was like, at night.” She shrugged. “I didn’t get it. Thought he was just some weirdo or something, but hey, if he wanted to offer me money, I didn’t care how big of a freak the guy was.”

  She had no idea.

  “What did he ask you to do?” I said.

  “He said I needed to get all roughed up like I’d just been in a fight and then go into the police station at eleven o’clock the next day. He showed me a picture of some guy and said when I saw him I had to tell everyone he was the man who tried to assault me.”

  “And the shiner?”

  “He punched me.”

  “Who did?” I said.

  “The guy who hired me. He said he had to so it looked real.”

  “You let the guy hit you for some pocket change to feed your drug habit? Pathetic.”

  She smirked at me.

  “It wasn’t a little bit of cash, honey. It was five large.”

  Sal and Lucio looked at each other but didn’t utter a word.

  “That’s a lot of money,” I said.

  She laughed.

  “He said if I testified, he’d pay me ten thousand. Cash.”

  “And you didn’t care about the innocent guy who’d get locked away for the rest of his life?”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “What do you mean you didn’t know?” I said.

  “The guy said he was an undercover agent trying to bust the guy in the Sinnerman murders. He said they knew it was him, they just needed a witness to make sure the guy went to prison. The way I saw it, I was doing every chick in this town a favor.”

  “Except that the guy who paid you was the real Sinnerman,” I said, “and the one locked away is just some scared kid who hasn’t hurt anyone in his life.”

  “You’re not serious?” she said. “That can’t be.”

  I looked her straight in the eye. “It is. And do you want to know who he just came after? Me.” I said. “He attacked me.”

  Trisha didn’t speak much for the rest of the drive, and I couldn’t tell whether she was scared or full of regret or both. I assumed it was both. She looked out her window into the black of night and pretended to sleep, but she didn’t fool me, and I was too repulsed by her to continue. I’d hand her over to Coop when I got to the station, and he could take it from there. I didn’t know what to believe about the story she told. She seemed to express genuine remorse, but I’d dealt with plenty of druggies before and was seasoned in the way they could make a person believe the blue sky was red when they needed to.

  We parked, and Sal and Lucio got out. Lucio walked with me and Sal tended to our drug addict. When I reached the station door, I heard a sound behind me, like a pop. I turned. Blood streamed from the middle of Trisha’s forehead, and then another pop echoed in the distance and Sal collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from his chest. I tried to run toward them, but Lucio shielded me with his body and thrust me into the doors of the station. Rose looked at me like I was as mad as a hatter, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Coop rush to my side.

  “What’s going on out there?” he said.

  “Two people have been shot,” I yelled. “Do something!”

  CHAPTER 39

  By the time Coop and the rest of the guys swarmed around Trisha and Sal, it was too late—they were both dead, and the hunt was on to find the exact location the shots had been fired from. Agent Luciana arrived several minutes later and pushed his way past the reporters that had pullulated around the place. He headed straight for me and grabbed the edge of my sweater and walked me over to the corner of the room.

  “Can we talk?” he said.

  I nodded. He looked over at Lucio and said, “Wait here.” Lucio reclined into an office chair and folded his arms and titled his head back toward the wall like he was ready for his evening nap. I couldn’t figure out how he remained so calm. My body felt like an electric current flowed through it.

  Agent Luciana raised his hand and gestured down the hall, and we walked into an unoccupied room. He closed the door and then rested the weight of his body against the back of it. With both hands, he pressed hard into the sides of his face and then rested them there until he decided to speak.

  “This is a disaster,” he said. “Did you at least get her to talk before she died?”

  I nodded and filled him in on the details.

  When I finished he said, “This guy has a much deeper agenda than I thought.”

  “Have you released the kid in custody yet?”

  “Not yet, we were waiting.”

  “For what—a sign or something that you had the wrong guy? Because if you are, this is it.”

  “Your attitude doesn’t help,” he said.

  “You need to find him—fast.”

  “And how do you suggest I go about it? This guy’s a ghost—an expert at evading everyone.”

  “Every killer has a weakness.”

  “And what might his be?” he said.

  I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

  “We both know the answer to that. You’re looking at her.”

  ***

  I hadn’t figured out why Sinnerman picked me, or why I was the only woman he didn’t choose at random, but I imagined it had something to do with Gabby. Either that or he was fascinated at my relentless approach to hunt him. The former seemed more likely.

  “You look like you’re about to fall asleep on that chair.”

  I looked up at a smiling Giovanni who hovered over me.

  “Just got caught up in my thoughts,” I said. “My mind never really shuts off. I am kinda tired though.”

  After the attempt on my life and the assassination at the station, Giovanni insisted I stay at his house, and his brother agreed. It was the safest place I could be, and since there were cameras all over and men wandering around like a bunch of whatchamacallits, I believed him.

  “Let me show you the room you’ll be staying in,” he said.

  I lifted my arms into the air and stretched them out to both sides and yawned.

  “Alright,” I said. “But it’s just for tonight.”

  Giovanni gave me a look that made me feel like I wouldn’t be going home anytime soon, and then he turned and walked down the hall. I followed. At the midway point, he opened a door and stepped inside.

  “I hope this works for you,” he said.

  I looked around. In all my life I’d never stayed in a room so lavish. It mirrored the décor in the living room except in the center of the room, instead of a sofa and chairs, was an enormous four poster bed fit for a queen, and I had one thing on my mind—sleep.

  ***

  When I opened my eyes the next morning Maddie was sitting on a chair diagonal from the bed. I sat up and leaned my head back against the headboard.

  “You slept long enough,” she said. “I’ve been worried about you since Wade told me what happened to you in the woods. And thanks for calling by the way.”

  I wanted to tell her everything before the chief did, but it had all happened so fast.

  “I’m sorry. Have you been here awhile?”

  “Long enough to hear you chatter in your sleep.”

  I don’t chatter.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “I just listened to fifteen minutes of back and forth banter.”

  “About what?”

  “It was hard to make out,” she said. “You blabbed on and on, and you were out of breath, like you were running away from something—or someone.”

  I had a good idea of who the someone was.

  “How’d you know I was here?”

  “I have my ways, and on that subject,” she thumbed in the direction of the doorway, “what a little hottie he is.”

  “Who—Giovanni?”

  “Who else
? Surprised to see you slept in a different room though.”

  “Maddie!”

  She bobbed her shoulders up and down.

  “What—you know me. I would have tapped that once, if not twice if I was in your position. I’m just sayin’.”

  “It’s not like he’s taken.”

  “Girl, please. The man’s talked about you nonstop since I got here. So do you like him, or what?”

  “Too much is going on right now for me to even consider it.”

  Maddie walked over and sat down next to me on the edge of the bed. “Make time for him,” she said. “Don’t let something that delicious get away.”

  “I see what you’re doing.”

  “Which is?” she said.

  “You know I can’t let anything distract me right now, not until—”

  Giovanni tapped on the door a few times and then came in.

  “Would you ladies care for some breakfast?” he said.

  “You bet,” Maddie said.

  He looked in my direction.

  “Sloane?”

  “I don’t want you to put yourself out,” I said.

  He made a face that reminded me of a disgruntled employee so I tried again.

  “I’m starved,” I said. “Thank you.”

  He smiled and said, “It will be ready in ten,” and then he turned and shut the door behind him.

  Once he left Maddie prodded me in the arm with two of her fingers.

  “What was that for?” I said.

  “If you don’t stop acting so passive the guy is going to think you’d rather get with some over-the-hill senior citizen than with him.”

  “Oh stop it,” I said. “He understands. Have you examined the bodies from last night?”

  She nodded and said, “Strange, don’t you think?”

  “Because he used a gun?” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s angry,” I said. “I shot him and ruined his plans. It forced him to clean up the mess he made, which started with Trisha. He wanted to kill her before she got the chance to talk, but he was already too late.”

  “And the other guy?”

  “Sal? Wrong place, wrong time, maybe.”

  “So why not you? He must have had a clear shot at some point, but he didn’t even try for you.”

  “It’s like he skipped over me on purpose. Think about it, Maddie. He set this whole scheme up, framed someone for murder, and paid someone to help him do it. There has to be a driving force behind it—he wants something.”

  “Not something—someone,” she said. “You.”

  “And a guy like him won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”

  CHAPTER 40

  After breakfast Maddie left and I showered and got ready—for what, I didn’t know. I was in the middle of towel drying my hair when a sound emanated from my phone.

  “How are you?” I said.

  “Why?” Nick said. “It’s not like you care.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Where are you?” I said.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  “Would it make a difference if I did?”

  “I still care about you,” I said.

  He laughed into the phone.

  “Right. You care. From what I hear, you have someone else to look out for you now. I have to say, I knew it would happen, but not this fast.”

  “It’s not what you think,” I said.

  “Isn’t it? You slept at his house last night.”

  Damn Coop, and damn his big mouth. I was sure he was the one who let that information slip out.

  “Nick, why did you call me?” I said.

  “It was a mistake.”

  And the line went dead.

  I wrapped my bath towel around me and fell back on the bed and closed my eyes. I tried to muster up some tears, but they didn’t come, and I didn’t know why. After all, we’d had a long relationship and I’d loved him—hadn’t I? I thought back to any memories I had where I remembered shedding tears of any kind. I could count them on one and a half hands. I didn’t lack feeling or emotion, just the ability to express my feelings like most other people. My life felt more in control this way. I’d never understood how most women cried as easily as the rain falling from a wispy cloud on a dark and dreary day. How was it possible?

  It was moments like this when I was all alone in a room with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company that I needed to be careful. I had to watch the bottle I’d set out to sea to make sure it didn’t come loose or worse—pop off and spray my emotions in the air for all the world to see.

  During our relationship Nick prompted me to see a counselor. But all I could think about was how it would feel to be shrink-wrapped by some head case in a stuffy office painted in depressed shades of beige and decorated with knock-off leather office furniture that squeaked every time my butt shifted a couple of inches. He said I needed to go in order to get past my sister. But there was no getting past Gabrielle; for me, there was but one option—closure. And no shrink could provide it. That was something I had to do for myself.

  “Where are you off to today then?”

  The sound of Giovanni’s voice entering the room thrust me back into the world again. I pulled my towel until it was tight and twisted the corner into a thick point and shoved it into my cleavage and sat up.

  “I need to get Boo,” I said. “He’s my—”

  “Westie, yes I know.”

  “I’m sure he’s confused about why he was left all alone last night.”

  “That might not be entirely true,” he said.

  Giovanni pressed a button on the wall box in my room. A few seconds later Lord Berkeley bounded into my room and hopped up on the bed with me. His tail wagged like a jogger on a treadmill at full speed. I grabbed his snowy ball of fur and held him tight to me. Behind him a woman entered the room. I hadn’t seen her in some time, and I wished more than ever I had taken the time to get dressed when I had the chance.

  “It’s good to see you,” she said.

  “And you, Daniela. I didn’t know you lived here.”

  She shook her head.

  “I’m just in town to pester my dear brother,” she said with a wink in his direction, “but I can see he’s found plenty of other things to occupy his time.” She looked at Giovanni. “Sloane will be staying for dinner, right?”

  “It’s up to her.”

  She looked at me with a gleam of hope.

  “You must,” she said. “We need to catch up.”

  I’d never known her to be so friendly, but then again, the last time we met had been under different circumstances. She’d been the recipient of physical abuse, but he was now six feet under.

  “Sure,” I said. “I’d love to.”

  “Well, see you both later then. I’ve got some shopping to do.”

  Daniela turned and darted out the door.

  “What now?” Giovanni said.

  I had no idea. I looked at Giovanni and then to Lord Berkeley who was asleep in my lap. In that moment, everything of importance was right there with me in my room.

  ***

  It didn’t take much for Giovanni to convince me to make my stay an extended one. I thought I’d want to cry out in protest, but when he made the offer I accepted without much consideration.

  My cell phone rang again, and this time I was dressed and ready. The name on the screen said The Pretty Pen.

  “Hi Robert,” I said.

  “Sorry it took so long to get back to you,” he said. “I have some news, but I’m afraid it will be of little use to you.”

  “I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

  “The paper you gave me isn’t manufactured anymore, and it hasn’t been for some time.”

  “How long has it been discontinued—do you know?” I said.

  “Twenty years, maybe more.”

  I couldn’t believe it.

  “Do you have any i
dea what it was used for?” I said.

  “It wasn’t very popular, and since it was such a long time ago, none of my distributors have any records showing who they sold it to.”

  “So how did you know it hasn’t been made for so long?” I said.

  “I scanned the paper and sent it to several companies I do business with. One of them is a specialty store that deals with art schools for the most part. The manager there had worked for the company for over thirty years and had a vague memory that they stocked that type of paper back in the day.”

  “Thanks for the call; you’ve helped me a lot more than you realize,” I said.

  I pressed the end button on my phone and went through the house until I found Giovanni. He was the center of attention in a huddle with a handful of men, all dressed in varied shades of black. When I approached I felt like I’d interrupted what appeared to be a serious conversation. I tried to backtrack out of the room, but Giovanni saw me—it was too late.

  “Sloane,” he said, “come in.”

  He flicked his right hand twice and the men around him dispersed, and in a few seconds it was like they were never there. A thick cloud of smoke permeated the air in the room, and it reeked of cigars.

  “What is it?” Giovanni said.

  “It’s nothing. Sorry to barge in on you.”

  “We’re finished, and you’re never a bother.”

  “Are you available for a little excursion?” I said.

  “With you—always.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Park City offered much more than some of the world’s most exclusive ski resorts. Summer brought on the arts festival, and all the galleries in town sparked to life. In addition to various shows and exhibits, the town was also home to a variety of art schools, including the one Giovanni and I had just pulled up in front of.

  The Park City Institute of the Arts was a school dedicated to producing the next mini-Michelangelos. It was housed in a brick building and looked like it was erected around the same time the rest of the town was. When I exited the car, I looked up to the center window on the second floor and could have sworn I saw someone peek out of it. It was then I realized I’d seen far too many episodes of Ghost Hunters.

 

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