He popped the top and took a long drink, glancing towards the roller door as another bike roared up the driveway.
He brought his gaze back to Kennett. ‘I want in.’
Chapter 13
3:00 p.m. Tuesday
Josie smiled her thanks as Dickson set a mug of coffee in front of her. It was their third for the day.
Earlier, he’d taken detailed notes of her version of Sunday night’s events, and after sharing sandwiches at lunch time, she’d grown more comfortable with Nate’s controller being in the house.
It was infinitely preferable to being alone.
In the afternoon, Dickson began working through the files restored onto Nate’s computer, insisting they work side by side at the dining room table so he could watch her screen as she accessed the Australian Securities and Investment Commission’s website. Never once did he leave her alone with the computer.
It was annoying that he didn’t trust her, and understandable he wouldn’t.
Now, as she studied him over the rim of her coffee mug, she came to the conclusion Boy Wonder was okay.
But he wasn’t Nate.
And the hollow feeling she’d woken with was still there.
‘Any patterns?’ Dickson asked, looking up and catching her watching him.
Josie lowered her mug and glanced at the flowcharts she’d drawn on her legal pad. Nate had asked them to pay particular attention to the drycleaners, which was in the underground section of the Queen Victoria Building and a Fit Forever gymnasium situated in the same arcade at street level.
‘I haven’t got far enough in to detect any patterns. I’ve got company tax file numbers and registered business names, but there’s a network of companies involved, and each time I follow one path it leads me down another.’
Dickson reached for his mobile as an alert came through. ‘Keep looking.’
Josie tensed, holding her breath and praying the message was from Nate.
‘It’s not him.’ Dickson put the phone down. ‘There’s been nothing since this morning when he left the house in Surry Hills.’
‘Should we be worried?’
Dickson pressed his lips together and gave her a look that said he didn’t appreciate her questioning him. Not that she cared.
‘It’s normal. We keep contact to a minimum. He’ll check in when he can.’
Josie let go of a breath and turned back to the computer.
‘What’s so great about him anyway?’
Josie looked over at Nate’s partner. He was reclined in the chair, fingers interlocked behind his shaved head, weight balanced on the chair’s back legs.
He spread his hands. ‘I mean, the guy’s so intense.’
Josie turned a page on her pad and waggled the pen between her fingers. Obviously Dickson had never witnessed Nate’s lighter side. ‘If you need to ask, you won’t understand.’
‘Ouch. Touchy.’ Dickson lowered the chair back on all four legs and shrugged. ‘I just want to know how he pulls all the chicks.’
Small pinpricks of disappointment stung Josie’s stomach. She knew Nate possessed a flirty gene, but she’d always thought it the harmless “fun” variety. “Pulling all the chicks” suggested a serial flirt. Did she believe that? When she’d made the ill-fated move at the party, he’d been openly mortified he’d given her the wrong impression.
She shrugged. ‘Some guys just have the X factor I guess.’
Hoping that would put an end to it, Josie peered at her computer monitor, but Dickson wouldn’t be discouraged.
‘There’s a history between you two, isn’t there?’
‘Hardly.’ Josie typed a company name into the ASIC search tool. ‘He worked for Allegra’s husband for a while. There was office contact, that’s all.’
‘Was that when he was suspended?’
Josie’s fingers stilled on the keyboard and she looked at Dickson again, torn between wanting to know, and refusing to pry into Nate’s business.
‘For getting involved with that member of congress in the States?’ he went on.
Josie shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’
‘She was receiving threats from some Australian ex-pat wanted back here.’ Dickson frowned. ‘She had a kid too. I think Nate wanted them to move out here.’
The boy in the wallet.
Not a godson. Not even a nephew.
Oh God!
She was such an idiot. How could she be so stupid as to go there a second time? With the deadline for his return to the bikies hanging over him, Nate had obviously given in to a sudden urge, a moment of madness that wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t got out of bed and gone into his room.
A dark pall of regret settled over Josie. Thank God he’d seen her bruises and brought things to a halt before that kiss led to something else.
A United States Member of Congress.
A mature woman — probably of a similar age.
A boy he loved — enough to carry his photograph in his wallet.
‘Anyway.’ Dickson waved a hand, voice breaking into her thoughts. ‘I’m not speaking out of turn. It’s common knowledge in the service.’
‘I’m not in the service.’
‘No.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But Hunter has a habit of “falling for his leading lady” if you know what I mean.’
Josie glared, would have told him to stick his opinion where the sun don’t shine, except Nate’s warning not to unleash her mouth on Dickson stopped her. ‘And you thought I should be aware of it?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I don’t give a damn about Nate Hunter’s pattern of behaviour.’ She shifted her attention back to the computer screen, female intuition warning her Dickson Cross had an ulterior motive for telling her this.
‘I just want my life back.’
Darkness surrounded Nate, not the protective kind, like when he and Josie had walked through the arbour, cool mountain air brushing their skin.
Oppressive.
Spinning.
He tried to make a fist, lift his arm.
Numbness — a dead weight.
His diaphragm contracted, squeezing his stomach muscles and threatening to expel its contents.
He jerked forward.
Upright.
A moving weight on his knees.
Hands around his neck.
Jesus!
A sickly odour made him want to avert his face but he couldn’t move. He opened his mouth, searching for oxygen, throat like sandpaper, tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.
Josie’s face swam into view and he mentally grasped at it.
Concentrated on keeping her near.
She drew closer, young and beautiful. She was holding two champagne flutes.
Cute.
Small.
She offered him a glass. Picked up a strawberry and ate it. Said something, her mouth moving.
He couldn’t hear.
Speak up, Josie.
Why couldn’t he hear?
She reached for him.
He held out his arms. Agony in his left shoulder.
He faltered, breath leaving him.
Come on, Hunter — fight.
Josie stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.
Sticky — sweet.
Nauseating.
Wrong!
Chapter 14
5:00 p.m. Tuesday
Allegra climbed out of Luke’s AMG and pulled a white baseball cap over her hair. She leaned down and spoke to him through the open window.
‘Do I pass as a jogger?’
One arm resting on the steering wheel, his eyes flicked over the white tee-shirt and stretchy black exercise pants. ‘Maybe.’
He didn’t smile, gaze now scanning the park which was a block from the Mulvaney family home. ‘I’ll be watching.’
Allegra clipped her iPod mini to the band of her leggings, unfazed by his displeasure. While Luke admired her work, he’d never quite reconciled himself that sometimes it was necessary for her
to associate with the shady element of Sydney society. He just insisted on accompanying her. Like now.
She placed the buds in her ears, though she had no intention of listening to music. ‘I’ll be fine, Luke.’
‘Don’t be long.’ There was an edge to his voice she recognised as worry.
Dappled autumn light bathed the park in a soft glow as Allegra jogged around its perimeter where a game of touch football was taking place. Around the rubbish bins, crows scavenged for food, their mournful cries in sharp contrast with the piercing trill of the referee’s whistle. One or two dogs dashed around, eager to join in the sport, while teenage boys shouted for the ball and parents shouted from the sidelines.
At the southern end of the park, Allegra could see Lizard Mulvaney’s widow where she’d promised to be, walking the family’s Staffordshire terrier alongside the storm water drain. Allegra slowed to a power walk, striding out alongside Sandra Mulvaney, within earshot, but not too close.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Sandy. Thank you for meeting me.’
Allegra glanced at the other woman. Apart from a Betty Boop tattoo peeking above the scooped neckline of a white singlet, Sandra Mulvaney was dressed in her usual head to toe leather, a Southern Cross bandana tied around her shoulder length bleached blonde hair.
‘It wasn’t easy getting out of the house, but I’m doing it for Lizard,’ she said softly, silver bangles clinking as she jerked on the dog’s leash.
Allegra admired the woman’s courage. Outlaw motorcycle gangs refused to speak publicly, especially to police, and only to lawyers when they needed representation. As far as she knew, Sandra Mulvaney wasn’t in need of the latter, though her husband may have been, if that’s why he’d called Josie last Sunday night.
‘As I said in my text, Simon Poole asked me to pass on his condolences. Are you alright? Have you had threats made against you personally?’
Sandra popped a piece of chewing gum into her mouth and shook her head. ‘The boys take care of me, just like they did with Lizard.’
Allegra frowned. ‘I was surprised he was alone when he died. Didn’t he have round the clock protection after the Court House shooting?’
The memory of that day sent a shudder down Allegra’s spine. A member of the Altar boys had taken a pot shot at Mulvaney after he’d been released on bail. She’d been there, the bullet lodging in the sandstone wall between them.
‘He didn’t want the boys around him that night,’ Sandra said in a low voice. ‘Told them to take off for a few hours.’
Allegra’s heart began to beat faster. ‘Why?’
‘Why are you so interested?’
Frustration bubbled up inside Allegra. She couldn’t mention the connection with Josie, not when her P.A.’s disappearance was yet to be publicly linked with Mulvaney’s death.
‘We have a long association with the Southern Cross, and we’re here to help with Lizard’s estate — should you need it.’
From the corner of her eye, Allegra saw Sandy’s mouth twitch. ‘Didn’t think Grace and Poole needed to tout for business, Allegra.’
Allegra ignored the remark. ‘Why would Lizard tell the security boys to go home that night?’
A pack of cyclists came hurtling around the corner, reflective bike lights glowing in the early evening dusk. Sandra waited until they’d passed. ‘He was tired of living frightened. He missed hanging with the family, but he wouldn’t risk putting me and the kids in danger. It was really getting to him.’
‘Was he depressed?’
Sandra snorted. ‘No.’
‘So why tell the guys to lay off?’
They paused again for three cyclists, separated from the peloton, to go by. ‘He was trying to make contact with whoever ordered the hit. He wanted it called off.’
Allegra’s step faltered. In that case, why would Mulvaney need to speak with her?
She looked at the other woman. ‘Do you know who ordered the hit?’
‘I’m guessing the Altar Boys. Most likely one of the heavies.’
Allegra frowned, the information churning through her head. If Lizard was bargaining for his life, he’d need to pay off the Altar Boys.
How would he do that?
Her mind leaped ahead. He’d offer them money, information, or resources — such as a network of contacts.
Maybe even turf.
But would Mulvaney have gone through with it? Sold out his beloved motorcycle gang? Sold out the Southern Cross for his life and his family?
If that were his intention, little wonder he’d rid himself of his minders. If the Southern Cross learned of his betrayal, they’d have motive for murder as well.
By this time, they’d walked a half circuit of the park, and Allegra could see Luke, leaning against the car, pretending to watch the football game.
The crowd cheered and clapped as one of the players crossed the try line, and Allegra took advantage of the noise to finally ask the question foremost in her mind.
‘I was away last weekend when it happened.’ She moved towards a bubbler as the other woman let the dog sniff around the flower beds. ‘Do you know if Lizard tried to reach me?’
‘No, he never said anything to me.’
Allegra leaned over and sipped at the water, took the opportunity to look both ways and make sure they were still alone. ‘Do you know if he was in need of legal representation, if he had any new instructions?’
The other woman’s jaw worked as she chewed on some gum. ‘No. There’s nothing I can tell you.’
Allegra straightened, swiped the back of her hand across her mouth and thought about Luke’s theory that Nate Hunter could be working undercover with the Altar Boys.
‘I appreciate you meeting me. I know it won’t bring Lizard back, but with luck, the police may get to the bottom of this.’
Sandra shot her a doubtful look. ‘Believe what you want, honey. One thing I know, the police won’t be doing me and my kids any favours.’
Chapter 15
10:00 p.m. Tuesday
‘Josephine Valenti.’
Nate pulled back, harnessing every particle of energy in his body to force his eyelids apart.
Breasts bounced in his face, a red-haired lap dancer writhing on his knees, arms linked around his neck — the hands he’d imagined encircling his throat in his semi-comatose state.
Ah, that’s right.
The hazing ceremony.
A mixture of relief and horror sobered him a little.
He was in the compound, in the midst of the initiation.
Heaviness weighing down his limbs, he looked towards the bar, muscles in his eyes aching.
The crowd had thinned.
Christ he felt crook.
‘Josephine Valenti.’
Nate jerked his head up, heart pulsing against his ribs as someone spoke Josie’s name a second time.
It was coming from the mounted flat screen on the wall. Dressed in light coloured trousers and a blue polo shirt, Josie’s father, Silvano, was standing in the driveway of the family home at what appeared to be a press conference.
Across the room he caught Kennett’s eye.
‘Mr. Valenti. How is the police investigation progressing?’ a reporter asked.
‘The police are doing everything in their power to find my — I’m sorry, our daughter.’ The man’s voice broke, and he paused, staring at the ground as he struggled for control.
‘Have you received a ransom demand?’
‘As yet, no. The police are chasing several leads, and in an effort to expedite this matter, my wife and I are offering half a million dollars reward, for any credible, I repeat, credible information that could lead to the safe return of our daughter.’
‘How is Mrs. Valenti?’
The camera zoomed in on Silvano’s despondent expression, and it was then Nate became aware of the striking resemblance between father and daughter. ‘She’s in the kind of state you would expect a mother to be in. Again, anyone with information about my daught
er, please contact police on the number below.’ A telephone number flashed at the bottom of the screen, and then it faded to black and cut back to the anchors in the studio.
Just then, Bull looked over and realised Nate was awake. He yelled for more Absinthe.
Head on fire, shoulder burning, Nate raised a hand and signalled no more.
Half a million bucks.
Sweet Jesus. Every bounty hunter in the country would be searching for Josie now.
‘Come on, baby,’ the redhead cooed in his ear, ‘you got patched up. You have to come out back and celebrate with me.’
Oh God.
He had the sweats.
Needed to get out.
How much liquor had they given him?
‘Thanks for the offer, sweetheart.’ The sediment from the Absinthe burned his throat, and he rested his forehead against the redheads, just to keep his head up. ‘But I won’t be any good for you tonight.’
‘You’ll feel better once we’re alone,’ she crooned, spreading her hands across his chest. ‘It’s a twenty-four hour gig. You may as well make use of me.’
Twenty-four hours?
Nate focused his stinging eyes on the clock behind the bar.
10:10 p.m.
Eighteen hours gone.
Getting under the limit would take — God knows how long.
He was dehydrated, needed water.
Bit by bit, Nate’s memory of the morning returned.
The arrival of club members. The official vote, and his successful admission. His sworn allegiance to the club.
And best of all, Kennett’s agreement for him to take over from Grassy.
In the afternoon they’d plied him with beers, and sometime during the evening, switched to Absinthe. After that, everything became a blur.
Nothing. Until now.
The Altar Boys would like to see him celebrating, but the liquor, combined with the pain from the club crest, newly inked into his shoulder, was making him feel like shit.
Nate took a deep breath and fought down the nausea.
Hot Lawyers: The Lee Christine Collection Page 32
