3 Savor (21 page)

“Why?”

Instead of answering her question,
he asked another one of his own. “Have you heard from Mom?”

“No. But what does any of this have
to do with the fire?”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering
all night.” He told them about the conversation with Sabrina. “From the text
messages between him and this other guy, JT, it sounds like he’s been behind
all of this.”

“But why?” Handel asked, leaning
back in his chair, a frown creasing his forehead. “I can see him causing
trouble for Margaret, maybe trying to make it look like Davy isn’t safe with
her, but why shoot at Billie and burn the winery shed?”

“Maybe this isn’t just about
getting custody of Davy. Maybe it’s about revenge.” Adam cleared his throat,
looking slightly uncomfortable. “I didn’t say any of this to Margaret, but
isn’t it possible that Salvatore wants payback on all of us?” He pointed at
Handel, “Your father murdered his son.” He pointed at Billie. “Agosto was found
dead in your winery dumpster.” He tapped a finger against his own chest. “And
I’m the new guy in Margaret’s life, filling the empty space of a father in
Davy’s life.”

“That’s an interesting theory,”
Handel said, sounding a little annoyed with her brother’s choice of words, “but
Manny told us the word on the street is that someone put a hit out on Billie.”

“A hit? Like in gangster movies?
Why would anyone, other than Salvatore, want to do that?” Adam asked. He gulped
the rest of his sweet coffee and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The
boyish motion made Billie think of Davy and how much the two were alike. She couldn’t
help smiling.

“You’re her brother,” Handel said.
“You can’t think of a good reason?”

“Hey! I resent that.” Billie
crossed her arms and leaned against the counter waiting for the coffee to
finish brewing. “So who’s to say it isn’t Salvatore?” she asked. “I mean, he
could very well have friends in low places. Didn’t you say the Las Boyz
originated in Sicily?”

Handel laced his hands behind his
head and looked up at the ceiling as though light bulbs really did give off
ideas. “Well, the two things we know for sure is that he’s behind the stuff at
Margaret’s place and his henchman’s initials are JT. Does anyone know Javier’s
last name?”

Billie hadn’t even thought of that.
She shook her head. “No, but I’m going to find out. As soon as I speak with
Ernesto.”

Adam was a little leery about
letting Margaret drive the Corvette, but when she batted those eyelashes at him
and leaned in to grab the keys from his hand, he let her have them. She gave
him one of her blindingly beautiful smiles and he couldn’t think straight
anyway. It was probably safer for her to drive, seeing as she was driving him
crazy.

He clicked his seatbelt and started
to direct her on how to shift slowly out of first into second because it had a
little jump in the gears, but she took off and was tearing down the highway
like Danica Patrick before he could get the words out. He swallowed hard and
gripped the edge of his seat. “So, where did you learn to drive like this?” he
asked, watching vineyards flash by in a blur as she passed car after car and
continued to gain speed.

“I practiced at the track. A guy I
knew in high school used to let me drive his Mustang. Then Handel had a
Corvette when he was in college. Once I snuck out after he was asleep and took
his car all the way to Reno.”

“How far is that?” he asked,
pressing his foot hard against the floor when she swerved into the oncoming
lane to pass another car and pulled back in just in time to avoid being a hood
ornament on a truck.

“Oh, it’s about two hundred miles,
but I made it there and back in under four hours,” she said proudly.

“Please tell me you didn’t share
that story with Davy.”

“Are you kidding? Do I look
stupid?” She flashed him another smile.

“No,” he said, wishing she’d keep
her eyes on the road. “But you sound crazy.”

They made it to Antonio’s in record
time. Adam opened the door and nearly fell to his knees to kiss the ground, but
it was littered with cigarette butts from employees sneaking outside for smoke
breaks and looked a little too unsanitary for his tastes.

“Want me to wait outside while you
talk to your other boyfriend?” he asked, leaning against the door of the car.

“Don’t you want to say hi to Carl?”
She pounded on the metal security door with her fist. “Sometimes they can’t
hear over the noise in there,” she explained.

He grinned. This girl surprised him
on a daily basis. Just when he thought he knew her, she proved he’d only
skimmed the surface. He looked forward to digging deeper, peeling back her
layers and savoring each moment. Hopefully most of the moments wouldn’t be
death-defying like that car ride. He hurried over and banged on the door with
his fist as well.

Carl threw open the door, an angry
scowl on his face, “What the…” he broke off and threw his arms wide, “Ciao
Bella! I didn’t expect you today.” Margaret was pulled into the man’s embrace
while Adam watched – now with a scowl on his face.

“Sorry,” she said pulling back. “I
guess I should have called, but it was sort of an emergency. I didn’t have Dirk’s
number and thought I’d just stop and talk to him,” she said, glancing over his
shoulder. Carl frowned and she gave him a small flirty smile, “if it’s all
right with you of course.”

“Do you even have to ask? I can’t
imagine what important emergency business you could have with my pitiful
dishwasher,” he said, waving them past him into the kitchen, “but he’s all
yours.”

A skinny guy with stringy blonde
hair tied back in a ponytail stood at the huge stainless steel sink washing
pots. He glanced back and his face immediately flushed with color when he saw
Margaret standing behind him. “Hey, Miss Parker.”

“Hi, Dirk. Is it all right if I
take you away from all this for a little bit?”

Dirk glanced worriedly at Carl.

“Go!” Carl barked, waving him away.
“The sooner you fix Margaret’s emergency, the sooner you get back to work.”

They went out the back door and
when Dirk saw the Corvette he nearly blew the blood vessels in his eyes, they
stretched so wide. “Hot damn! Did you trade that old pickup in for this baby?”
he asked, moving slowly around it. “Guess you don’t need me to replace that
belt now, huh?”

“Actually, I need you to do more
than that.” Margaret put a hand on his shoulder. “This is Adam’s car,” she
said, nodding in his direction. “Sadly, I still have the pickup and a major
problem.”

He turned around, clearly excited.
Apparently, fixing cars ran a close second to dating a babe who looked like
Marilyn Monroe. “What is it? I can fix most any car. Just ask my dad. He’s a
mechanic at the Texaco station. He taught me everything I know.”

She smiled. “That’s what I need to
hear.”

They gave him directions to
Margaret’s house and he said he would come in the morning before work. He was
still gazing longingly at the Corvette, so Adam took pity on him and let him look
under the hood and sit behind the wheel for a minute. Dirk held out his cell
phone. “Would you mind taking a picture of me for my Facebook?” he asked,
hopefully.

“Of course he will,” Margaret said.

Adam reluctantly took the phone and
stepped back. Before he could get the car in frame, Margaret jumped in the
passenger seat, and leaned in with her arm around Dirk until he flushed as red
as the leather seats. Adam clicked the picture.

He handed back the phone and Dirk
slid out from behind the wheel. “That is an awesome car you got. Someday I’m
going to buy me a Ferrari 458 Speciale. Carl said his uncle has one in Italy.
Those things will fly like a bullet skimming the ground.”

Margaret waved from inside the car.
“See you tomorrow, Dirk!”

He grinned huge and turned to go
back inside. Before Adam could close the door of the car, he ran back and bent
down with his hands on his thighs to peer inside at Margaret. “Miss Parker,
would you mind if I bring JT with me? I’ve been teaching him to work on cars.”

“JT?” they both said at the same
time.

Dirk looked from one to the other.
“Yeah, you know. Juan Torres.” He waved a hand toward the restaurant. “He’s
Carl’s sous chief. He makes a mean tortellini, but he still needs practice with
stuff like replacing ignition coils or catalytic converters.”

•••••

It wasn’t nearly as hard as Sabrina
imagined it would be to get off the island. She didn’t have to eat bugs, or
swim in a lagoon until she was stung by a blowfish, or snipe at the other
island inhabitants until they got sick of her and voted her off. She just had
to bide her time.

They spent the evening pleasantly
enough, swimming, dancing and eating, just as Edoardo had promised. When the
night sky darkened, the entertainment started, and they watched fire dancers
spin flaming batons around their heads and bodies in perfect synchronization.
It was getting late and she was getting sleepy. A little after one a.m., she
turned to find her companion passed out in his chair beside her. Apparently,
he’d been steadily drinking Blue Hawaiians the entire evening, with more rum
than blue.

Unsure what to do, she waved over a
waiter and asked for help getting Mr. Salvatore to his room. Two burly Hawaiian
bellhops managed to get him in a wheelchair and roll him to the elevator. After
they tucked him in his bed, she found his phone in the pocket of his suit coat
and used her own phone to capture pictures of the text messages he still had
not deleted. She didn’t know if they would stand up in court, but they might be
helpful to keep him off Margaret’s back. When she was done she emailed them all
to Adam. Then she went into her room, locked the door and managed to sleep a
full ten hours before she heard voices outside and the clink of dishes.

She’d showered before climbing in
bed, so she just washed her face, put on a bit of makeup and slipped into one
of the cute sundresses Edoardo insisted on buying her after their swim the
evening before.

When she opened the door her host
looked a tad unhappy. Still wearing a robe, he sat in an upholstered club chair
by the bar reading a newspaper. He lifted his coffee cup, peering at her over
the rim. “I must say I’m disappointed that you are already dressed for the day.
Although, you look stunning as usual.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Room service had already brought
breakfast. She could smell eggs and sausage and pancakes beneath silver warming
lids on a food cart by the bar. A pot of coffee and another cup and saucer were
also available. She poured a cup.

“This has been a most enlightening
trip, Edoardo.” She filled a plate with scrambled eggs and sausage. Looked
beneath another lid and found toast. Added a slice of that to her plate. “And
so refreshing. I feel like a new woman,” she said.

He folded the newspaper and put it
aside. Straightened in his chair. “Oahu is a special place. It always
invigorates me to be here even for a short time,” he said, letting his eyes
travel down the length of her legs. There was no mention of the way the evening
had ended, with him passed out cold at the luau. Perhaps that was his version
of invigoration. “We can stay as long as you’d like, you know. I have no
pressing business in San Francisco that I can’t take care of right here in this
room.”

She fully understood what he was
saying and sat on a bar stool out of his reach to eat her breakfast. “I do need
to get back. I haven’t spent much time with my kids and there are things to
attend to in Minnesota as well.”

“That’s too bad. We haven’t really
gotten to know one another as well as I would like,” he said. He got up and
came to lean over her shoulder at the bar, his breath hot on the side of her
neck, his voice low and seductive in her ear, “Perhaps we should spend what’s
left of our stay making up for that oversight.” He lifted a lock of her hair
and kissed her neck.

What would have sent a tingle down
her spine a day ago, now left her cold inside. The man was repulsive and she
couldn’t wait to be out of his company. But she couldn’t let him know that. Not
yet. She was beholden to him for the ride home and hoped to keep it civil.

She stuffed a mouthful of eggs in
and turned to smile up at him.

He straightened, a frown of
annoyance turning his lips down. Perhaps no one had ever chose eggs over him
before. “I’ll let you finish your breakfast first,” he said generously and went
back to his chair.

Sabrina ate slowly to make her
reprieve last as long as possible. She glanced back when she heard a text come
in on his phone and watched him pick it up from the small lamp table beside
him. His face went red with anger and he bit out the words, “Lo demonizzano
tutti all'inferno!” She had no idea what he said but it sounded bad.

“Is everything all right?” she
asked.

“No, everything is not all right.”
He jumped up and strode toward his room, his open robe flapping against his
legs. “Be ready to leave in twenty minutes!” he bellowed before slamming the
bedroom door behind him.

“I’ll be ready in ten,” she said,
placed a sausage patty on a slice of toast, scooped some eggs on top, folded it
over and took a big unsexy bite.

•••••

Margaret, Adam, and Carl sat around
the intimate dining table, a bottle of wine and plate of bruschetta before
them, but no one felt like eating. After Dirk told them who JT was, they
confronted him in the kitchen and he lit out of the restaurant like a dozen ICE
agents were on his tail. Adam ran after him, tackled him in the strip of grass
between parking lots and hauled his butt back to the kitchen. Margaret had
already called the police.

Carl had not taken the news well.
Finding himself in the middle between his uncle and a close friend, he looked
like he might cry. But when he confronted Juan, his face turned hard and angry.
He learned that his uncle had paid his sous chef five thousand dollars to set
Margaret’s shed on fire, drive over her vines, and mess with her pickup. He
fired him on the spot, and yanked the white chef’s coat off him before the
police showed up and took him away.

Margaret looked across at her
brother’s best friend, afraid that family ties may have forever destroyed their
close friendship. She sighed, letting her finger follow the rim of her wine
glass around and around.

“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” she
said, her voice soft. “Handel and I have always treasured your friendship. We
would never want anything to come between us, but I can’t let your uncle get
away with this. He tried to physically harm me and my son.”

“He would never harm Davy,” Carl
argued weakly. “I know he is a desperate man to have gone so far, but he has
suffered since Agosto’s death.” He spread his hands on the tablecloth. “He tries
to hide it, but he is a broken man. My mother tells me that he drinks more than
he eats and rarely ends a day without passing out. His business partners have
begged him to retire, but he doesn’t know how to not work.”

“Well, that’s that then,” Adam
said. “We certainly wouldn’t want to give him more pain. Even if he did pay one
of your employees an exorbitant amount of money to sabotage Meg’s pickup and
send her careening off the road to her death.”

Margaret put a calming hand on his
arm. “Adam,” she said, a soft reprimand. “It’s not Carl’s fault. He would never
have allowed any of this to happen if he’d known.”

“Of course not!” Carl shoved his
chair back and stood up, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry for everything. I
swear my uncle will return to Italia and never bother you again. You have my
word.”

Margaret had already sent a message
to Edoardo earlier telling him exactly that. Go home and never bother us again.
She informed him about their chat with JT and said if he didn’t want to spend
an extended amount of time in an American jail, he should bring Sabrina home
and leave the country. There was no response from him, but an hour later
Sabrina texted Adam to say they were leaving Oahu and would be home within
hours.