by Casey Hagen
“It’s nothing. Sorry.” She got up and dropped her plate into the sink. When she tried to slip past him, he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her in.
“Try again,” he growled.
“It’s stupid. I feel like an idiot for even saying it.”
“You’re mad because you woke up alone, aren’t you?”
She sighed. “Yeah, but it’s okay. I knew the deal.”
He shook his head. “You don’t want me. I might be good for a good time, but overall, I won’t fit, and you’ll spend more time defending us.”
She looked him right in the eye. “You know the problem with that assessment? It’s total horseshit. Don’t speak for me. I don’t conform, and you damn well know it. If there’s something keeping you from wanting to be with me, it has everything to do with something inside you. I won’t beg. I’m worth more than that,” she said. She pulled out of his grip and headed to his room to grab the boxes from her father’s office.
“Damn, man. That was hard to watch,” Sol said with a laugh. Mike headed off in the direction Valentina went.
“I did a bang-up job. Christ. I shouldn’t have tangled with her.”
“Probably not. The problem with tangling with a woman like that is you’re not likely to get untangled anytime soon, if ever.”
Jeremy tried for a laugh. The sound that came out? Not a laugh. More like a strangled whimper. “I could have used that advice before last night.”
“I imagine so. Good luck, man. You’re gonna need it.”
Jeremy grabbed a seat by the window to drink his coffee. He had a bad habit of sloshing, and he wasn’t going to risk that anywhere near those cars.
He’d never seen Valentina look the way she did this morning. She’d let her hair hang loose and wild, unlike that sleek curtain of waves from when he’d firt met her. As though all business. He was surprised to see she had big ringlets hanging down her back. Ringlets he itched to touch.
He’d told himself all morning that he had gotten her out of his system. He could walk away: no harm, no foul.
He’d lied.
The minute he saw her, he wanted her. He wanted her even more than he had the night before. Because now he knew how it felt to be inside her. He knew the softness of her skin. He’d memorized her sweet scent, and taste, when aroused.
Yup, he was an idiot.
An idiot who needed to get the hell off the property for a walk before he lost his shit. He shot off a text to Dante to let him know he planned to duck out. Dante sent a response right back, agreeing to keep an eye out for Valentina. Jeremy ducked out and headed down the driveway on foot.
He followed the empty road toward the neighboring vineyard and decided to turn down the lane and walk among the grapes.
He needed to help them get this figured out so he could get the hell out of Dodge before he got any deeper. He’d never believed in love at first sight, thought the whole idea of it was dumb as hell, but there was no denying his traitorous heart had headed in that direction.
He didn’t know a whole hell of a lot about Valentina, but what he did know, shit. Smart, funny, powerful, caring, and such a desire for life, for experiences, and for testing the waters with him.
He blanched at the thought of doing that. He wouldn’t make it out. When she came to realize that he lacked refinement, money, prestige, and most of all the desire to be those things, she would bail and take his heart with her.
No, thanks.
Valentina had paused at the thought of Luciano being the culprit. There had to be a reason for that. Jeremy went through what he knew about Luciano.
Smart, top of his class in business school.
Four years younger than Valentina, so he was conceived about three years after her mother took off.
Like a brother to her.
Fit, tall, athletic.
Jeremy came to an abrupt stop and played the family dinner through his head again. Camille fussing over Valentina. Valentina hugging Luciano. Their banter. The way she nudged and goaded him. His protective streak.
Their matching hair color.
Their matching eye color.
Their matching skin color.
Their matching height.
Someone was out to contest the will before the window to do so expired.
Son of a bitch!
Jeremy headed back for the house. He kept replaying the details over and over, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. He damn sure had better have a solid case if he planned to take his suspicions to Valentina, or she might just skin him alive.
Confident, and with the driveway in sight, he texted Dante.
I’ll be there in five minutes. I think I know who it is.
The mailman was just grabbing the mail out of the back of his truck when Jeremy walked by. With a box and a large envelope in his hand, he flagged Jeremy down. “Do you mind taking this in? It won’t fit in the mailbox.”
Jeremy clenched his teeth. A few extra seconds wouldn’t matter, but... “Fine.”
He took the mail and headed off in a jog to the house. Bursting through the door, he tossed the mail onto the island, the manila envelope skittering to the floor.
He almost left it, but something told him to pick it up. Before he even saw the label, his hands tingled. He flipped it over…
Addressed to: Camille Harrison
Sent from: DNA Diagnostics
A whooshing started in his ears. His skin tingled. Crumpling the envelope in his hand, he took off at a run for the office.
“Valentina!” he yelled. He ran into the room and found it empty. Heading for the stairs, he yelled for her again. Nothing.
“Valentina!” he yelled again at the top the stairs.
Dante tripped on his way out of the bathroom. “What’s the matter?”
“Didn’t you get my text?”
“No, I was in the bathroom. What’s wrong?”
“What isn’t wrong? Where is she?”
“She went for a drive.”
Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, and Dante put up a hand. “She took the Olds. It’s fine, you cleared it. She only went out on the track. No drifting, just driving.”
“Look.” Jeremy shoved the envelope into Dante’s hands. His eyes went as round as saucers.
“I think it’s Camille. Maybe Luciano and Camille. I don’t know, but have you thought about how much Valentina and Luciano look alike? Why did someone named Camille Harrison give her son a name like Luciano?”
“But why kill her? Why not just go to her? Valentina’s not greedy. She would share the inheritance,” Dante said.
“I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on that.”
“Camille has always been after Valentina to marry and settle down. Raise a family, but she said it out of concern. She didn’t want Valentina to be lonely.”
“Can you be sure she didn’t want her son to have the inheritance to himself as the only son?”
“That’s an antiquated way of looking at it.”
“I know, but—”
“Shit!” Dante said, the blood draining from his face.
“What?”
He pushed past Jeremy. “The keys to the garage.” Dante took off at a run down the stairs. “Valentina left them on the counter last night when she was cooking. I only found them early this morning.”
Jeremy tore after him. Dante stopped and turned to Jeremy. Jeremy pushed him along. “Don’t stop! Go!”
They ran to the recently cleared 1960 Ferrari Spyder and climbed in. The minute Dante started closing his door, Jeremy peeled out of the space and punched the gas when he cleared the doorway.
He took the first corner so fast, they left rubber behind, and Dante paled. “What if we’re just being stupid?”
Jeremy clenched the wheel and shot him a look. “You want to bet her life on it? I don’t.”
Dante nodded and swallowed hard. “You’re right.”
They made it halfway through the course with no sign of her. Jeremy cran
Jeremy’s heart stopped. He screeched to a halt and took off at a run. Valentina lay slumped over in the driver’s seat, unmoving.
“No!”
She had slid into the tree, hard. So hard, the tree was in the passenger side of the car.
There was no blood. She lay still.
Afraid to move her, he pressed his ear against her chest, relieved to hear her heart thudding heavily.
“Valentina?” Jeremy said.
“Is she breathing?” Dante gasped out.
“Yeah.” He carefully pulled her hair away from her face. “Valentina? Wake up, sweetheart.”
Her eyes fluttered.
He cupped her cheek. “Valentina? Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids opened partway, and she groaned. She sat straighter, then flopped her head against the headrest and winced. “Can that be the last accident, please?” She groaned.
Jeremy let out a relieved breath and smiled. “Baby, I promise. Last one.”
“I think they almost…” her eyes drifted shut, “…got me with this one. Lost steering.”
“Dante, call 9-1-1.” Jeremy met his gaze.
“Paramedics are already on their way. The police with them.”
Jeremy nodded. “Good.”
He hoped to hell they got there, got her loaded, and got out before Camille made it back. He wanted to feel Camille out; it was the only way to know if Luciano was involved.
He smoothed his hand over her hair and tried to distract her from falling asleep. Within minutes, he heard the sirens. Good thing. She had come to enough that the pain had settled in.
He bent down to her ear. “I can’t go with you.”
She tried to push herself up and yelped. “But—”
“No, don’t move.” He held her shoulders to keep her still. “I know who did this. I need to stay to make sure we get the bastard. I need to know you’ll be safe.”
“Don’t go,” she whispered. A tear rolled down her cheek.
He didn’t know if she was asking for now, or when this was all done. He didn’t want to know. It didn’t change the end result. “I have to. Dante will be with you. You’ll be safe from now on. I promise.”
“Jeremy…” she said, but the paramedics pushed through and took over.
“What are you going to do?” Dante asked.
“I’m going to fill in the police and see if they’ll go along with my plan.”
“What plan is that?”
“I want to confront Camille with the DNA test. We need to find out if she’s on her own or if she’s in cahoots with Luciano.”
“I don’t know about this, Jeremy.”
“I do. Valentina will never have peace unless she knows. She’ll lose family today, but maybe she doesn’t have to lose all of it.”
Jeremy walked away and flagged down the officer who had just stepped out of his car.
CHAPTER NINE
Exposure
JEREMY SAT AT THE ISLAND in the kitchen, pretending to be calm in the midst of seething rage. He deserved an Oscar for his performance.
He’d stashed Mike and Sol in inconspicuous areas to witness the conversation. Officers Davis and Clark both listened from the pantry. They had a lot of pieces to put together, but after he talked to them, they at least had enough to take Camille in for questioning without whatever they were about to overhear.
Camille made her way into the kitchen twenty minutes later, her arms laden with grocery bags. Jeremy fought the rage that threatened to take over. Never in his life had he wanted to put his hands on a woman in anger, but right now, with memories of Valentina’s slumped body and pale face in the forefront of his mind, he would have loved to wrap his hands around the bitch’s throat.
“Hi, Jeremy,” she said, offering him a smile.
“Hi, hey, are there any more bags left? I could help you.” Wow. He didn’t know where he channeled the politeness, but go him.
“That would be great. Thank you.”
He went out and collected the rest of the bags and, after setting them on the counter, began emptying them one by one.
“Such a good boy, you are. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled and hoped it didn’t look rabid like he feared it did. “So, I went for a walk today, and the mailman flagged me down. There was a box that wouldn’t fit.”
She stiffened for a brief second. So brief he almost thought it was his imagination.
“Oh?” Camille said.
“And there was this.” He handed her the unopened envelope. “Sorry it got crumpled. It was pinned between my arm and the box.”
Camille reached for the envelope with a shaking hand. “Uh, well, yes, thank you.”
Okay, Jeremy, keep it friendly. Be nosy, but don’t let her know you suspect anything.
“When I saw it, I put a few pieces together. Luciano might be Valentina’s brother, right?”
Camille spun on her heel and glared. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“Yeah, see, that’s my weak spot. Boundaries. I might have left Luciano a message that his DNA results are in.”
“You what?!” Camille shrieked.
Jeremy held up his hands in mock surrender. “Well, this is a good thing, right? I mean, if he’s Valentina’s brother, they’re a real family. I mean, it might be a little messy dealing with the estate after it was already turned over to Valentina, but she would share.”
“How dare you!”
“What? This is a happy thing, right? I mean, I’m sorry I butted in. I thought this was all happy news. If they’re brother and sister, they can share the estate. Maybe split up the businesses; he runs a few, she runs the others…”
Her mouth pinched. “Luciano should be running it all. He’s the son. Valentina should be doing her duty as a woman and leaving business matters to her brother.”
“Camille, women run businesses all the time. She’s good at it.”
“It’s Luciano’s right.”
He slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Keep it casual. As casual as one could when opening Pandora’s box, that is. “What if he doesn’t want it?”
“Of course he’ll want it.”
“How can you be sure?”
The groceries abandoned now, thankfully since she had focused on the fridge items first and the pantry was otherwise occupied by law enforcement, she faced off with him across the island. “Because he’s my son and I’ve raised him to know a man and a woman’s place.”
“But you don’t know for sure. I mean, you haven’t discussed it with him, have you?”
“Why would I discuss it with him without proof?”
So he didn’t know. At least Valentina wouldn’t lose them both. “Aren’t you going to open the envelope? I mean, I would be curious. Look at it this way, if Valentina is really Luciano’s sister, she’ll be ecstatic.”
“I didn’t do this for her. I did it for my son. He’s the rightful heir.”
He nodded toward her hands. “Well, technically, you don’t know that until you open the envelope.”
She hesitated.
Ahh, so there was someone else at the time. “Since we’re getting along so well and all, who’s the other guy?”
She held silent.
“You might as well tell me since I already know this much. What’s one more detail?” Jeremy said as he poured himself another cup of coffee and tried to maintain a friendly composure, despite his fucking Spidey senses telling him something was seriously wrong with this woman.
She still refused, but she grasped the envelope a bit tighter.
Jeremy’s mind raced through the information…nothing new—
Where was George?
He’d never asked how long George had worked for the family. Never thought of it. After the way Valentina and Dante showed little concern for George being incommunicado because, although rare, he occasionally vacationed in the mountains and fished, Jeremy had dismissed it.
“The other possibility is George, isn’t it?” Jeremy said.
The face that had just paled of color now flushed red with temper. “You just couldn’t mind your own business, could you? You had to keep pushing, sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
Jeremy shrugged. “Just curious is all.”
“Just curious? No, you’re not. George can’t be the father. Everything falls apart if he’s the father.” She tore at the envelope, slicing her finger on the edge, but she ignored it. Blood smeared on the manila envelope, and then on the paperwork she pulled out.
Jeremy caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Officer Clark had shifted position and pulled his weapon but stayed hidden from Camille’s view.
Apparently, Officer Clark agreed that they were onto something.
Camille scanned the paper, flipped to the second page, smiled, and then whooped. “Ha! I knew it. Luciano is the rightful heir.” She waved the papers in his face and sneered. “My son! You hear me? MY SON!”
Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, I heard you. I just think you’re celebrating a bit prematurely. It was you, wasn’t it? With the cars.”
Camille’s smile slipped. “I don’t know what you’re—”
He didn’t advance on her. He relaxed his shoulders despite the tension and tried to remain nonthreatening. “Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. You tried to kill Valentina by sabotaging her cars.”
“They were accidents,” Camille said with a wary look, her spine straight as a board.
He shook his head. “No, they weren’t accidents. This is what I do. I live and breathe cars. I have to hand it to you, you must have done your research, maybe had some guidance from good old George. It would take an expert to figure out what you had done. I’m not even sure the police would have caught it.”
She backed away. “I didn’t—”
“Oh, but you did.”
“Luciano is the rightful heir. He’s the son. He shouldn’t have to share any of the Giordano businesses. They should be his.”
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