All the Way (21 page)

She didn't answer, but let her eyes drop to the ticket she was clutching in her hand.

Adriano snatched the ticket away before she even saw him flinch. “Charlotte? Why are you going back to Charlotte?”

“Adriano, let it alone. I know you promised, and I'm letting you out of our deal.”

“My word is important to me. Even you can't make me go back on it.”

“What are you going to do? Drag me to Columbia so you can feel good about keeping your promise? Things have changed,” she added, knowing she'd slipped and said too much.

Adriano was all over it, morphing into the investigative reporter she'd first met. “What's changed?” He sat next to her. “I know something happened last night. What? Did Grazicky's men get to you somehow?”

“I won't let you do this alone. What happened between last night and this morning?”

“Adriano,” she pleaded, “you need to walk away now. If you really feel something for me like you said, you'll do what I'm asking.”

“What you're asking is stupid. I've gone along with your schemes, and they never work out. You were the one who wanted to go back to your apartment where the rogue FBI agent was waiting.” He shook his head. “No. We do things my way.”

She was positioned between two men who were dangerous in their own ways. The tears welled up in her eyes. She wouldn't be able to ditch Adriano. He'd never leave without a good explanation, and the truth would cause him to become more determined to come along.

“You don't want to tell me what's going on? I'll follow you onto the bus. And when we get to Charlotte, I'll follow every step you take. I'll call Jake in to help me tail you. You're not getting out of my sight until I know you're safe with the FBI.”

“You can't.” Her voice took on the annoying quivering sound it made before she started crying. She hated women who cried.

“Watch me.”

She thought of Patrick, dead because of her, and the first tear fell. Once it plopped onto her hand she couldn't stop the flood that came next. All these weeks she'd been able to contain her tears, but Adriano's insistence in helping her—his courageous unselfishness—pushed her over the edge.

“Angel?” He wrapped her in his arms. “What the hell is going on?”

“You can't follow me. You'll get Patrick killed.”

“Patrick? Your brother?”

“Sherman has him. If I don't turn myself over to him, he's going to kill Patrick.”

Chapter 23

Sherman had to keep Cecily from finding out about Patrick or she'd do something dumb and get them both thrown into jail. Recently learning about his wife's deviant sexual appetites, he was still a little behind the curve. She was any husband's dream: rich, good-enough looking, hardly ever in town, with an outrageous affinity to the sexually bizarre—but she wasn't Payton Vaughn. He had succeeded in roping Cecily in. Payton was still elusive.

Hiram entered his office, head hung low. The man worried Sherman would snap, punishing him for sleeping with Cecily. Not now. Not yet. He was a welcome diversion, keeping Cecily too busy to know what Sherman was up to.

Sherman stood at the window, looking down onto the sparkling pool. “She's coming on the Greyhound.”

“When?”

Sherman whipped around. “Do I have to do every aspect of your job? Maybe if you got your head out from between my wife's legs you could see what's going on.”

Hiram shrank back, remaining quiet.

“Pick her up and bring her to me.” Sherman turned back around. “You know where I'll be.”

“What about the brother?”

“Stop bothering me,” Sherman spat.

Hiram scooted out of the room, his tail between his legs. Sherman loved dogging the bigger man, proving who was in charge.

After locking the door, he returned to his desk. He unlocked the middle drawer of his credenza and pulled out an envelope with everything he needed to get out of the country. He fished out the tiny key, replaced the envelope, and called the butler responsible for keeping the house staff in line.

“Have the car brought around,” Sherman said. He hung up before the bothersome man could ask any questions. The butler never let Sherman forget he came with Cecily. He donned his suit jacket and headed for the car. He wanted everything in place when Payton arrived, which meant he had to get his hands on his cash. He'd allow Cecily to join him with Payton—but not the first time. The first time he wanted her to himself. Prove to the high and mighty wench he could have anyone he wanted—including her. Once Cecily got her hands on Payton, Payton would beg him to take her away with him. And he'd be ready. Ready to take the girl and the cash and walk into the sunset.

 

 

“You did good,” Cecily said, stroking the welts on Hiram's back. This session had left her breathless. She sat on the edge of the bed in the dilapidated motel and lit a cigarette. “You can get up now.”

Hiram rose to his feet but didn't leave the spot.

“You do what my husband asks, but the second you pick Payton up from the bus station, call me. I'll give Sherman some alone-time with the bitch, and then I'll arrive on the scene.”

Hiram nodded. He looked particularly anxious to get away.

“Are you telling me everything, Hiram?”

“Everything.”

She eyed him suspiciously. She didn't trust him any more than she trusted Sherman. “You can leave.”

Hiram scurried off to the bathroom, grabbing his clothes from the floor. She waited for him to dress and leave before she placed a phone call.

“I'll need you soon,” she said.

The man with the jagged facial scar on the other end of the line didn't need more of an explanation. “Where and when?”

 

 

“Yo, Jake?”

“Who is this?” Jake held the phone to his ear with his good shoulder.

“Class, a friend of Adriano's. You wanted one of my boys to read something.”

Jake shoved some files out of the way, reaching for a pencil. In all his hours buried in paperwork, searching for a key piece of evidence, he'd forgotten about the gang interpreting the sheet of paper found in Payton's planner.

“Go ahead.”

“It's an appointment. It says, ‘Meet Franco Cimino after closing.'”

Jake jotted it down and read it back, assuring himself he'd gotten it correct. He read his note, knowing he'd heard the name before.

“Hey, tell A it took a lot to find an OG who could read this. He owes me one.”

“Got it.”

Class disconnected. He'd be stricken to know he'd just volunteered information that might bring down the drug trade—a business deeply entwined with gang life.

Jake tossed the phone aside and, using his good hand, started plucking away at the keyboard. He'd thought about breaking the cast off several times. It hindered him from getting his work done. Typing one-handed severely slowed down the process. He had scanned the Grazicky files for hours, never finding a link between Grazicky and Franco Cimino. His eyes started to tear, and a terrible headache set in. He stepped away from the computer screen to order lunch and grab an aspirin.

“Let's think about this for a minute, Jake,” he said to himself. He downed the aspirin and swallowed a gulp of water.

“You've heard the name before, which means it has to be in one of these files somewhere. If it isn't in Grazicky's file, where could it be?”

He walked to the window and watched the foot traffic below. “What kind of name is Cimino?” Immediately, he thought it had a gangster ring to it. He returned to the computer, fired up the Web and entered Cimino in a genealogy page.

“Sicilian? Well, this investigation officially hit another brick wall. No one involved is Sicilian.” His words trailed off. His back went straight. He cursed the cast and frantically searched the paper files sitting on the floor next to his workstation. “Holy sh—”

He searched for where he'd thrown the phone earlier. Finding it, he punched in Mr. Conners's number. “Go through the archives. Send me a picture of Grazicky's in-laws.”

 

 

Ethan never really believed Jake, the reporter from the
Chicago City
paper, would ever take his calls, let alone bring him in on an existing case. Jake was being secretive about the whole investigation, asking Ethan to meet at Jake's hotel and bring along any family history he could dig up on Sherman Grazicky. Ethan wasn't stupid. He wanted out of the tiny newsroom, and Chicago would be a good place to grow his career. He made an excuse to his editor about following a new lead, gathered the information Jake wanted, and headed over to the hotel.

“
Chicago City
really knows how to treat its people,” Ethan said, stepping inside the expansive suite.

“It took a long time to get here,” Jake said, offering his good hand.

Ethan lifted his briefcase. “I brought everything I could find on Grazicky and his wife.” He took a seat on the sofa. “I also brought what I could find on the dead FBI agent.” He balanced the briefcase on his knees before he opened it and removed a videotape. “Got stock footage on Skye too.”

Jake took the tape and slipped it into the VCR. “Good looking out.”

“You want to tell me what this is all about now?”

Jake took a seat across from him, remote in hand. “My partner and I get the byline at
Chicago City,
but there'll be a bunch of reporters wanting exclusive television interviews.”

Ethan's mouth literally watered. He knew from the first phone call Jake was on to something big. “You offering?”

“If this is what I think it is, I'm going to need help to bring Grazicky down. You up for that?”

Grazicky was responsible for many crimes in the city, including the new influx of drug activity, but no one had the balls to take his empire down—including the authorities, whom Ethan believed were mostly on his payroll. This would be more than getting a big story or jump-starting his career. He'd be partially responsible for helping to clean up the streets. He didn't have a family of his own, but he had nephews who had been approached by drug dealers.

“Where do I sign on?”

 

 

After Payton told Adriano everything, she felt much better. From the first moment she'd met him, he'd had the power to subdue her fears with a gentle caress or well-timed word. His hostile reaction to Sherman and what he'd done to blackmail her set Adriano on edge. He wanted to destroy Sherman for his crimes—the drugs, the murder, kidnapping Patrick—but mostly for upsetting her. It was a good feeling to know he cared so much about her.

She'd allowed herself a minute to be embraced by Adriano. She'd had a moment of weakness when her tears got the best of her. With him holding her, she found new strength, and now she was ready to get her brother back.

“You're seriously suggesting we ask Romeo for a ride to Charlotte?” Adriano questioned.

“Do you have a better idea? I have to get back before Sherman does something to Patrick. You're insisting on finding an alternate plan—”

“Other than giving you to Grazicky, yes.”

“Sherman's expecting me on the bus. Going by car will give us extra time to find a way to save Patrick.”

Adriano eyed the pimp, noticing Romeo's gaze never strayed too far away from Payton. She had that affect on men, and Adriano was coming to hate it.

“If I agree to this, you have to do something for me,” he said.

“Now?”

“You didn't answer my question, angel,” he said, setting Payton away from him.

“What question?”

“How do you feel about me? Us?”

“That's two questions.”

He watched Romeo. “It'll take two answers to get me in the car with him.”

Payton looked in Romeo's direction, but Adriano caught her chin and brought her back to him. “Was this only about sex because you were lonely and scared?”

Her eyes roamed his face.

He held his breath, anxious to know her answer. He'd never been this knotted over a woman before. He finally understood what Jake meant when he'd said Adriano would know when the right woman came along. He didn't want to think about what life would be like without seeing her every morning. They hadn't been separated since they'd met, and he didn't want to let her go now.

Payton reached out and stroked his hair. “I do care for you, Adriano.”

He smiled, and he knew it would be a big, goofy smile if he could see it himself. It didn't seem to bother Payton. She dropped her head, hiding her own smile.

Getting her to admit her feelings was the easy part. After they got Patrick back and put Grazicky in prison, they'd work on the hard part—finding a way to be together.

Romeo had about two-thousand conditions before he would agree to drive them to Charlotte. It wasn't until Payton stepped up and asked that he agreed. Adriano pulled her close to his side, keeping a protective arm around her at all times. She climbed into the backseat, and he joined her, sitting the suitcase in the front seat with Romeo.

“What kind of phone is that?” Romeo asked when the satellite phone jumped to life. “This is some serious spy shit.”

Adriano ignored the man and answered the call.

“A, we got Grazicky by the balls.”

“Payton's here.” He leaned over, holding the phone between them.

“The note on the sheet of paper inside Payton's calendar was an appointment Grazicky scheduled with Franco Cimino. Payton know the name?”

She shook her head no.

“She doesn't know him, Jake.”

“The appointment is for the same night Payton witnessed the murder. I'm betting he's the dead guy.”

Adriano watched Payton, gauging her reaction. “Who is he?”

“This is the sweet part. Franco Cimino is Cecily's father.”

“Sherman killed his wife's father?” Understanding lit Payton's face. “It would explain why he'd want his appointments kept confidential. If he was into something with his father-in-law and didn't want his wife to know.”

Adriano spoke. “Everything we've investigated never flagged anything on Grazicky's wife.”

“I tapped into a source at the television news station. Seems Cecily's father is—was—the granddaddy of illegal crimes. Think Grazicky might have been moving in on his territory? Overstepping his boundaries as a son-in-law?”

“It would fit his MO,” Adriano said. “Everything we know about this guy screams he's an opportunist.”

“There's more,” Jake said. “Now that we know who we're looking for, I'm on the way to the coroner's office with dental records in hand.”

Payton squeezed Adriano's hand.

“Grazicky has Payton's brother.”

Jake cursed.

“If she doesn't go to him, he's threatened to kill Patrick.”

Jake cursed again. “What's the plan?”

“We're on the way back. Grazicky is expecting her in a couple of hours by Greyhound. We're getting a ride and can be there in . . .”

“Thirty minutes,” Romeo supplied.

“No doubt Grazicky's men are watching me,” Jake said.

Adriano contemplated the situation for a long moment. “How long will it take you to find out something from the coroner?”

“Who knows? I can be there in minutes. It might take days for him to match dental records with a John Doe—if the body is even in the morgue.”

“Mr. Conners said something about calling in the media. We'll meet you at the bus station and pretend to get off the Greyhound when it arrives. With the cameras, Grazicky wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything.”

“What about my brother?” Payton asked.