Break Point (15 page)

“Jake wants me to take you back to his house.” Leslie told her, walking her over to the edge of the patio. “He wants you out of sight until the match tomorrow.”

“Darling, are you alright?”

Summer blinked at the voice beside her. A weak smile pulled at Geoffrey’s lips and her instinct was to smile back. But then she remembered her anger, and fought the urge to slap him instead.

“Thank God you’re okay.” He touched a clammy hand to her cheek but she pulled away. “I was so scared.”

“Get away from me,” She opened her eyes enough to see Nila beside him. “Both of you.”

“Summer, don’t tell me you believe what that
crazy man was saying.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It makes sense. You book Nila for endorsement deals that should be mine and now you have enough to pay for this place.” She straightened, looking him dead in the eye. “It’s always about the business isn’t it, Geoffrey.”

He smoothed down lapels, then glanced around at the small crowd around him. “Darling, we can talk about all this later. Right now, I’m just glad all this is over.”

His words jarred something in her brain, clicking her minds eye into focus. He was right. Regardless of Anston and Geoffrey’s business dealings, she should be relieved. Vitalie said himself he was the one who attacked her, and now he was gone.

She expelled a breath, one she was sure she’d been holding since the day it happened. At this moment there was no longer a reason to look over her shoulder. The danger was gone.

“How about we get out of here, now?” Leslie coaxed, helping her off the ledge. “You need a good night sleep.”

Over Leslie’s shoulder she could see the huddle of uniformed police staring down at the bloody mess that had been Anston Vitalie. Jake stood over him, his gun still in his hand.

“Jake killed him, didn’t he?”

Leslie nodded. “He didn’t have a choice.”

She bit her lip, afraid her gratitude would manifest in a torrent of sobs. She took a step toward him, but Leslie stopped her, resting her hand on her shoulder. “Summer, you shouldn’t be over there.”

“I have to talk to Jake.”

“Now isn’t a good time.”

She shrugged her off, her bare feet stinging as she shuffled across the stone. His back was to her so she tugged on his tux, now torn, blood-stained and wet from the rain. ““Thank you.” she whispered, not sure who she was addressing—Jake for saving her life or maybe fate for sending him in the first place. She went limp when he held her, his grip alone keeping her on her feet. She pressed her face against his chest, letting his heat radiate against her.

“Can we get her out of the night air, please?” she heard him say. “And get the medics back over here. I think she’s still in shock.”

Gathering her in his arms, he carried her through the crowd to the small parlor just inside the far terrace door. He lay her down on the red, velvet couch, tucking the blanket in around her.

“Sweetheart, you’re okay.” he told her, stroking her hair as it fell across her face. “I’m right here. Just relax.”

She slid her hand around his neck, playing with the short dark hair at the nape. “You look terrible.”

He chuckled. “Never too out of it to insult me, huh?”

“No I mean your tux.” She reached out, pulling him close by a torn lapel. “It’s criminal to treat Armani that way. And what happened to your face?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He took her hand from his face and held it between his palms. “You scared me to death, you know that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you go out with Anston by yourself.”

“It was my fault, Jake. I went.”

He nodded, his hooded eyes telling her he was sorry. Bringing her hand to his lips he kissed it then stood up and gestured toward the door. “Believe me I want to stay with you, but I have to get back outside and do my job.”

“I don’t want to be just your job, Jake. I want to be with you.”

“Excuse me, Miss Riley?”

Summer bit her lip, suddenly aware of the other pair of eyes on her. Earl Diggs’ dark face was in front of her, dressed in a Bonita Springs police uniform. “Remember me? I’ve met you a few times before.”

“Sure.” She swung her legs over the couch and sat up. “From the bar and the hotel. Good to see you again Mr. Diggs.” She held
out her hand for him to shake.

“Mr. Harrison, the coroner is here. And the medics are waiting too if
Miss Riley needs a once over.”

“I’m fine.” Summer held her hand in the air. “Jake’s friend, Leslie, is going to take me home.”

“I’ll be out there in a minute.” Jake said to Diggs.

“No problem.” Earl said, heading for the door. ”Oh, by the way, Miss. Riley, Officer Baker is trying to hold off the press. It’s no guarantee that what happened tonight won’t get out, but it might spare you the headline in the morning paper.”

Summer nodded. “Thanks for the heads up.” She waited for the door to close behind him before turning back to Jake. “Why is Diggs wearing a police uniform?” she asked.

“It’s his cover. You’re the only one who knows who I really am, remember?”

She smiled. “Yeah, I remember.

Voices drifted closer beyond the closed door. He stood up and pulled out his gun, reloading the bullets in the barrel. “Summer, do you know where Anston’s office is in this place? I need to check it out.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Just want you safe is all.”

She turned away, the sight of the gun scaring her. “Upstairs, third floor. Can you please do that somewhere else.”

“Sorry.” Jake snapped the chamber shut and hid the gun back in his torn pants.

The worry clouding his face confused her. “Wait a minute? I’m safe now, aren’t I?”

“Just do as I say and let Leslie take you back to my house.” His voice was gentle as if talking to a child. “She’ll keep you company until I get there.”

This didn’t make sense. The bad guy was caught. She wasn’t in danger anymore.

Was s
he?

“I don’t want you talking to anyone about the investigation. Got it?” His eyes were stern, a look she’d never seen before.

“What about Geoffrey?”

“I told Leslie to tell him you needed to be in a safe house until tomorrow’s match.” He glanced back at the closed door, then back at her. “I can’t talk about this now.”

The urgency in his words and the set of his jaw made her stomach tighten. “Jake, should I still be afraid?”

He leaned over and pressed his finger against her lips, then replaced the finger with his lips. When he pulled away, his tired eyes locked on hers. “Just let me go, okay? I’
ll be back before you know it.”

Before she could answer he was gone. “Please be careful.” she whispered, to no one but herself.

Chapter Fifteen

Jake pulled a cigarette from his glove compartment stash, smiling to himself as he lit it. He’d get an earful about the smell when he got home, a prospect he was actually looking forward to. By then, he would know the success of his mission and the value of basing his whole life on a hunch.

Big Al had to be here.

Jake figured Al’s moles in the police department would have alerted him of the earlier happenings at Vitalie’s party. He also knew that whenever there was a crisis, Big Al hunkered down here in the back bar room at Giovanni’s. If Jake read the dim light in the back window right, his research again had served him well.

He drew a long drag, letting the smoke slither out from between his lips. The parking lot was empty, a fact that surprised him. Whenever he pictured this moment of redemption, he figured he would have to eliminate the rest of the army to get to the General. But the yellow wind flag outside warned all to stay away. He was all alone. Unguarded. Jake would have a clear shot.

The darkness dulled to a shroud of grey when he stepped from his car. A weird sort of tunnel vision heightened his senses, making each of his steps echo in his ears, and the smell of the rain more pungent than usual. He pulled open the door, pacing to the back room as if something other than himself propelled him. He slowed when he saw a shadow at the bar. There in the darkness Al sat on a stool, his hands wrapped around a shooter of scotch.

In that instant Jake could feel the impact of the crash all over again, like the wind had been violently forced from him. He hung in the doorway, drawing strength from the shadows, gathering himself for t
he showdown he’d dreamed about.

“So, there you are.” Al finally said, lifting his glass in a toast. “I had a feeling after tonight’s events you would come looking for me.”

“You weren’t hard to find. Even snakes like you come up for sun once in a while.” Jake let his words settle around him, making sure it was clear his visit was not out of friendship. He stepped behind the bar, snapping on the overhead light. A bottle of bourbon was breathing beside Al, and the half-full ashtray hinted he’d had been waiting a while.

“So the boys were right about you, huh,
Harrison. You do have some sort of personal agenda.”

“What does that mean?”

“You never did get over what happened on that track, did you? I thought we were square now.”

“We’re not friends, Al.” Jake said. “Friends don’t ruin friend’s lives.”

Al nodded, staring at the contents of his glass. “So let me guess how it went. You felt cheated after what happened at the Daytona. So, filled with this drive of revenge, you made it your mission to pay me back. That sound about right?”

Al was smiling. It would have angered Jake if he was surprised. He was known for his even temper, a strategy adopted to frustrate those seeking confrontation.

It wouldn’t work on Jake.

“I agreed to throw one race.” Jake spat. “Because of you I lost my entire career. You tampered with my car and you made sure I would go down. Was my word not good enough?”

“I didn’t mean for it to turn out that way.”

“Is that what you are going to tell Summer?”

“So I screwed up.” Al’s steely eyes meeting Jake’s. “I did what I did for a reason.”

“Is that
all it is to you, a screw up?”

Al took a long swig of his bourbon, his silence probably out of strategy rather than having nothing to say. Jake walked around the bar, running his fingers along the edge. “So let me see if I got this right. You had your daughter whacked for some condo in
South Beach. Sounds like you’re Father of the Year.”

“It was more than just a condo, believe me.”

“And that makes it okay?”

“What the hell do you want me to say?” He shrugged as if talking about the weather. “That’s the way it goes, Jake. Sometimes in business when you take a chance you lose out. You and Summer were unlucky.”

“Damn right we were.” Jake grabbed the liquor bottle by the neck and smashed it against the bar. Shards flew through the air, shredding his hands and wrist bringing pain that weirdly relieved him. “So how about we play by my rules now. And I do what I’ve been dying to do for eight years.” He thrust the broken bottle to Al’s throat, the pointed tips pressing against his jugular. A drip of blood landed on the white color of his shirt. “I’ve waiting for this moment for a long time, Riley.”

Al laughed, a taunting cackle that echoed in Jake ears. “Still acting on those wild impulses, aren’t you, Jake. You know that’s why I asked you to throw that race in the first place. I figured you would never say no to adventure.”

Jake smacked him across the face, the force sending him to the floor. But as if to mock him, Al staggered to his feet, dusting the shards of glass from his tailored pants.

“Let me tell you something, Jake. I’m a firm believer in the ends justifying the means. Granted, the original idea behind Summer’s situation may have been born out of a little selfishness on my part, but she’s going to end up better off.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you had a million or so good reasons why you arranged your own daughter’s attack.” Jake grabbed him by the lapel, then dragged him to the supply room door. With inhuman force, he kicked it open, tossing him on the ragged couch in the corner. “Start talking,” Jake barked and pulled the string on the naked light bulb overhead.

With the deliberate speed of a stalling man, Al lit his cigar and took a long drag before returning the lighter to his jacket pocket. “Anston Vitalie and I have never been friends. He was my daughter’s coach for years, but we didn’t get along. He always acted like he knew better than me what was best for her.”

“I wonder where he got that impression.”

“So I see him one night about a year ago at a party in
South Beach. He’s whining to anyone who’ll listen about how he’s filing for bankruptcy because his old partner, Geoffrey Martin is luring all the players into signing management deals with him.”

“Summer being one of them.” Jake said.

“Sure. She was the crown jewel. Geoffrey makes more a year off Summer’s endorsements than what Vitalie makes in five with his school.”

“So one man’s misery is your business opportunity.” Jake quipped. “How do you get from that to whacking your own daughter?”

Al shifted in his seat, the cloud of smoke swimming over his head. “I didn’t have her whacked,” he calmly corrected. “All I wanted was to fix the match. She agreed to help me but she changed her mind. So, I had to work around her. Improvise.”

“Then you and Vitalie set it all up.”

Al nodded in the affirmative. “All he had to do was loosen a few strings on each of Summer’s racquets, just enough to throw her off. But he freaked out and stabbed her.”

“That upset you?”

“Hell yes, it upset me! She’s my baby.”

“And what about the mail?” Jake demanded. “Summer was sent threatening mail.”

Al rolled his eyes. “Another bright idea of Vitalie’s. He hired some moron to send Summer threats in the mail. He thought it would throw off the investigation if anyone ever questioned him. The most likely suspect would be the one who threatened her in the first place.”

“Did you know Summer’s saliva was on the seals?”

Al laughed like the news surprised him. “That’s Anston for your. Neurotic and paranoid.”

Jake was surprised how forthcoming Al was with his information. A better man would have acknowledged a shred of remorse, but Jake needed to believe the worst. On a shelf behind Al, he spied a roll of duck tape. He retrieved it, then motioned for Al put his wrists together.

“Why didn’t you kill Vitalie?” Jake asked. “Not like you to leave loose ends.”

“Believe me I thought about it. But I came up with something better.”

“Better?”

Al nodded, taking a drag from his cigar, his hands now bound together. “I told him that I’d spare his life if he gave me everything else. His stocks, bonds, private plane, two yachts and his whole compound here in
Bonita Springs. Seemed like a fair trade.”

“Sure.” Jake sneered. “Summer loses everything but you make out.”

“Hey, if it wasn’t for Summer, I would have killed him.” Al corrected, pointing at him with the glowing end of his cigar. “Why do you think I got Geoffrey involved?”

Jake nodded as he wound the tape around his ankles. “Geoffrey, huh? I didn’t know you were friends.”

Al shrugged. “Sure, why not. He’s decent to Summer and has the added bonus of being Swiss and neither one of us have anything against their banking system.” He smiled gnawing on the end of his smoke. “We’ve done business for a long time.”

“This was a joint venture then?”

“Not at first.” Al corrected. “I told him I’d hand him the school if he agreed to marry Summer and convince the Tennis Federation to drop the investigation in to her attack.”

“Did you know he’d been signing deals for Nila Norcova in place of Summer?”

“It doesn’t surprise me. He gets a bigger cut that way. But what the hell is the difference? Summer’s the one who benefits. Geoffrey will be her husband. More money to go around.”

“So you planned this whole marriage thing too.”

“At the time, no one knew if Summer would ever play again. I figured this way if she couldn’t, she'd have the school to run. She loves that place and I know she loves kids. With Geoffrey she could have a family. I do look out for my daughter you know.”

“Weren’t you afraid Vitalie would talk?”

“And say what? He was just as deep into it as any one of us.”

Jake stood back up, satisfied, by his handiwork. Picking Al up by the collar, he shoved him to his knees on the floor.

“So why hire me, Al?”

Al shook his head, as if realizing his fatal mistake. “I thought we were friends. I thought you’d look out for me.”

“The hell with Summer, right?” Jake felt his composure snap, his stomach tightening with a jolt. His leg shot out from under him, landing square in Al’s gut.

“Get up!” Jake taunted, pulling his gun back out from its holster. “I’m not finished with you!”

Al pushed up, balancing on his knees, blood dripping from his mouth. In Jake’s experience, even the worst killers feared their own death. The glint of panic in Al’s eye revealed he was no different. Jake lifted the gun, his knuckles white from the grip. He licked his lips and held his breath, his finger poised on the trigger.

“What are you going to get out of killing me, Harrison? You’d have your revenge but what will Summer have? Her career will be ruined. She might even head to prison. No Geoffrey, no school. She’d have nothing.”

The words crowded his brain. He took a breath, then slowly let it out. “Shut up, Riley.”

“Is killing me really worth what it? Vitalie is dead. Let this whole thing die with him.”

A bead of sweat ran down Jake’s neck. This was the moment that had sustained his existence for eight years. Big Al Riley at his feet, a breath away from death. His finger twitched on the trigger. One squeeze and it was over.

Jake aimed between the eyes. His eyes. The same deep green. The same resolve with a rebel’s edge. Jake had seen fear in them before.

These were Summer’s eyes.

In that instant something tripped in his mind. He lowered the gun, panting as if he’d been socked in the gut. The light bulb swung above them, the string squeaking as it twisted in the rafter. A sudden calm swept over him. He looked down at Al, his eyes still wide when Jake thrust his
foot into his face.

Al tumbled into the corner knocking over a stack of boxes, then re-emerged rubbing his jaw. “You’re a good man, Harrison.” Al gasped. “Really, I knew you’d come to your senses.”

Jake strode out the door, his head beginning to throb.

“She’s changed you, Harrison!” Al called after him.” Before you met her, you would have killed me first and asked questions later.”

“Lucky for you.” Jake mumbled, as he headed back out into the night.

***

Jake shoes left little red puddles of blood as he trudged up rain soaked stairs. He felt like he was sure he looked. Tired. Beaten. Torn. When his hand grasped the doorknob, he noticed his gnarled bloodied knuckles. Like the appendage belonged to an animal rather than himself.

The CD tape was still in his pocket, suddenly heavier than before. But listening to it would have to wait. All that mattered now was getting Summer safely through the night and on the court tomorrow.

The smell of burning birch watered his eyes when he stepped through the door. Leslie sat on the couch in the great room with a blanket pulled around her and a coffee cup in her hand.

“I heard you pull in.” Her forehead wrinkled when she looked at him.
“I put some coffee on. But maybe you want to get in the shower or something. You look awful.”

“You cranked up the fireplace,” he thought out loud. “You must want to talk.”

“I was hoping you would want to.”

He smiled, his eyes following her over to the kitchen counter. “Actually I do need to talk to you about a few things. I need some advice.”