The Santangelos (53 page)

“I still don’t know who
you
are,” Willow said, frowning. “Why should I tell you anything?”

“He’s Jeff Williams,” Pammy said, as if his name meant something. “He’s our friend who’s trying to help.”

“Help
what
?” Willow said. “Where’s Alejandro? How did you find me?”

Felicity was getting fed up with being relegated to the background. After all,
she
was the one who’d discovered that the famous Willow Price was in the hospital. Surely Jeff Williams should be paying more attention to
her
?

“I can take you to the other girl,” Felicity said, edging closer to Jeff. “She’s a nobody.”

“Wait a minute,” Jeff said, still checking out google and the Dolcezza family. “Did you say the girl’s name was Max?”

Willow nodded.

“She’s the latest model for Dolcezza,” Jeff muttered, almost to himself.

“For what?” Pammy said, wishing she’d taken another shot of scotch. She didn’t relish sitting around a hospital; it gave her the creeps. Willow was fine. Jeff had his story. Couldn’t they leave?

Jeff turned to Felicity. “Okay,” he said. “Take me to the other girl.”

“She’s in the ICU,” Felicity said. “You won’t be allowed in.”

“Try me,” Jeff said confidently, grabbing her arm and guiding her to the door.

“Where’re you going?” Pammy asked, getting more flustered by the minute.

“Hold the fort. I’ll be right back,” Jeff said, leaving Willow and Pammy alone together.

*   *   *

A half hour later, Jeff was sitting in the lobby posting his story. He’d found out that Max was a Santangelo, and the girl was in a coma, which made his story even more strong and dramatic.

Jeff was psyched. He had an exclusive on four young people—all well known in their own particular way. The bad-girl movie starlet. The lowlife son of a drug czar. The daughter of two major players. And the Italian playboy, heir to the Dolcezza fortune.

Jeff was first out of the gate with this one, and he couldn’t have been more pleased with himself.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

The boy had asked her what she wanted with his grandfather. Lucky didn’t know
what
she wanted as she sent Tariq away and headed for the man sitting serenely on the terrace high above where the ceremony would soon take place.

The man—the king—or whoever the fuck he was had his back to her, and the only thing she knew for sure was that she had to find out what devious plan he had in place. It was obviously something he cared to witness, for why else would he have gotten his family to leave while he remained behind?

Had he arranged for a gunman to run riot among the crowd below, randomly shooting people?

Or maybe there was a bomb placed somewhere.

She shuddered at the thought.

Her entire family was present and SOMETHING BAD WAS ABOUT TO HAPPEN.

She surprised him with her presence, moving in front of him, her dark eyes blazing.

King Emir was taken aback; he had not expected to be confronted by this lowly female creature. Where was Faisal? Where were his guards? This intrusion was unforgiveable.

“Who are you?” he growled, his voice thick with contempt.

“I think you know who I am,” Lucky answered, fearless and determined.

“I do not take kindly to a woman daring to speak with me without my permission,” the king said, with an imperious glare. “You will leave now. Immediately. It is an order.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lucky responded, thinking,
Like father, like son.
They both hated women. “I want you to be aware that I am not responsible for Armand’s death. But you—you
are
responsible for arranging the execution of my father, isn’t that so?”

“How dare you presume to speak to me directly? Do you not understand that I am a king, a monarch? I am royal, majestic, and you are nothing but an odious female whose only use in this world is to be there for a man’s sexual pleasure and to bear his offspring.”

“God!” she exclaimed. “You really do have one foot in the Stone Age.”

“Shut your filthy mouth.”

“Why are you here?” Lucky said, staring him down. “What do you have planned?”

“Ah,” he said, a crafty expression crossing his swarthy face. “That is for you to find out, for in my country we punish sinners. We relish the death of infidels who have violated our laws.”

“Your so-called laws mean nothing here,” Lucky said scathingly. “You’re in America now, not some tin-pot monarchy that nobody’s ever heard of and that you think you rule. Don’t you get it? If anything goes down, I will have you arrested and thrown into jail.”

The king gave a disdainful sneer as his hand hovered over the cell phone placed on the table beside him.

With a sudden flash of clarity, Lucky knew. The cell phone. It had to be the detonator. The cell phone was the key to what was about to take place.

Instinctively she flung herself forward, desperate to stop him from reaching the phone.

Shocked that he was being attacked, he roared his displeasure as she grabbed his wrist, attempting to wrest his hand away.

“You American
whore
,” he screamed, struggling to free his hand. “You dare to touch a
king
—you will
die
for your impudence.”

“Screw you, old man,” Lucky said breathlessly. “You’re stone-cold crazy, and I
know
what you’re trying to do. I
know
your plan.”

“You know nothing. Do you hear me—nothing.”

They battled it out, both resolute in their quest to win. Lucky was strong. The king was stronger. With an animalistic roar of fury, he managed to shove her away, giving him just enough time to press the trigger button on his cell.

There was a moment of silence, then they both heard the explosion from way below.

The king gave an evil laugh. “It’s a shame you are not down there,” he said. “It will suffice that your loved ones are, for they deserved to be punished, exactly like your dog of a father. Yes, you are quite right. I arranged for his execution, and I can assure you that it was my profound pleasure to do so. I knew you would bury him here, so I made sure that I would be in attendance. I think it is true that you suffer more when it’s your relatives and friends who die because of you.”

“You sick
motherfucker
.”

“Unfortunately for you, there is nothing you can do to me,” he continued, rising to his feet. “I have diplomatic immunity in your country.” With a vile smile of triumph, he added, “I am a king, and you are no more than a useless woman. I will leave now. I shall return to my country, where women know their place.”

A black fury came over her. A fury so strong that she could not control it.

She flew at this monster of a man, ready to gouge his eyes out. She raged against him with all her strength, clawing at his face with her nails, spitting at him, kicking him.

He reeled back from her attack, falling hard against the railings of the terrace, tripping on his long robe. He attempted to regain his balance, leaning his full weight against the railings, and to his surprise he found himself falling … falling … into the chaos forty stories below.

CHAPTER NINETY

There was nothing Lucky could do. Nothing she wanted to do. She couldn’t save King Emir, and even if it had been possible for her to do so, she would’ve allowed him to fall. He’d ordered the cold-blooded assassination of Gino, and for that he was being duly punished.

Justice ruled.

Santangelo justice.

She ran from the terrace into the living room, where Chris still held Faisal and the two guards at bay.

“We’ve got to go,” she said tersely, aware of what would take place when they discovered that their precious king was no longer with them.

Chris didn’t need to be asked twice. He’d heard the explosion, and he dreaded what they would find when they got downstairs.

The elevator doors opened. Bobby was standing inside. “Jesus, Mom—” he began to say.

Lucky stepped into the elevator with Chris close behind her. “We have to find the kids,” she said, her voice choking up.

And as the elevator door closed, they all heard the wails of despair coming from the penthouse.

King Emir Amin Mohamed Jordan was dead.

So be it.

*   *   *

Nazeem and Salman were hunched in the narrow passageway when King Emir detonated the suicide vest attached to Salman’s chest. Salman was hovering behind Nazeem as they waited for the signal that would send them out among the many guests, for only then were the bombs supposed to be detonated. Both men had received explicit instructions. On the king’s signal, Nazeem was to head toward the podium as soon as Lucky Santangelo began to speak, while Salman was to make his way to the center aisle.

However, thanks to Lucky, none of this took place, although the explosion was still lethal enough to do plenty of damage.

Chaos reigned. Everyone was panicking, running and screaming. Acrid smoke filled the air. There were injuries, mostly to the people who had been sitting at the back near the passageway. Things could have been worse had Nazeem and Salman emerged from the passageway before the bombs detonated.

On their way to the men’s room, Senator Richmond and his son, Craven, were caught in the mayhem—pieces of flying debris hit Peter on the head, rendering him unconscious. His security detail dragged him away to a safer spot, while Craven stood there, stunned—even more so when King Emir’s body came hurtling down from above, landing only a couple of feet away from him.

Craven sank to the ground and began crying like a baby.

Meanwhile, Lennie was busy trying to get everybody away from the mayhem to a safer place behind the mausoleum. None of the family and close friends were injured, although everyone was reeling in shock.

Lennie couldn’t help wondering if there was more to come. Lucky had been right; she was always right. Why hadn’t he listened to her?

He tried to stay calm and in control. Where was Lucky? And Max? Was it possible that Max had been kidnapped? Could her abduction be part of a plot to destroy the Santangelos?

He ushered Gino Junior and Leo toward Steven, who was helping to move everyone. “Watch out for them,” he said urgently. “I’m going to find Lucky.”

“You do that,” Steven said, grabbing both boys.

“I want to go help,” Gino Junior insisted, skipping free of his uncle.

“It’s too dangerous,” Steven said tersely. “There could be another bomb about to go off. Nobody knows what’s happening.”

“I don’t care,” Gino Junior replied, his young face full of sincerity. “There are people who need my help.”

Before Steven could stop him, he ran off.

*   *   *

Adrenaline pumping, Lucky raced outside, Bobby close behind her. She didn’t know what to expect; her heart was beating out of her chest. What if her kids were injured or even worse? And Lennie, was he okay? She prayed that he was.

The carnage was bad, but not as bad as she’d expected. Later she learned that by tackling King Emir, she’d forced him into detonating the bombs while the two suicide bombers were still in the passageway—and that had saved many lives.

People were running everywhere, and there was blood and wreckage.

Lucky began searching desperately for her family, finally spotting Gino Junior, who was tending to a woman with blood pouring down her face. He’d torn off his jacket and was trying to stem the flow.

“Hey, Mom!” he shouted. “Over here.”

“Where are Lennie and Leo?” she asked, bending down to tell the woman that help was on the way and that she’d be all right.

“They’re okay, Mom,” Gino Junior assured her. “Dad’s looking for you.”

The woman moaned. Lucky recognized her. It was Darlene, Paige’s friend.

Nearby a man was crouched on the ground in a dazed state; it was apparent that his leg had been severed below the knee.

Lucky experienced a flash of deep fury that such a devastating act had taken place at her hotel. Could she have stopped it?

No. How could you stop something when you had no idea it was going to happen?

Someone must have called 911 the moment the bombs went off, for police and paramedics were already swarming.
Thank God for that,
she thought.

Bobby was helping the injured, and so was Chris.

Why?
she wanted to scream.
Why would someone plan such a heinous act?

Suddenly Lennie was by her side, holding on to her, moving her away from the danger zone, although she wanted to stay and help.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he insisted. “The paramedics have it under control.”

“The bastard is dead,” she said flatly. “Dead and gone.”

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you later. Where are Leo and Brigette and Steven? Are they okay?”

“Everyone’s fine.” He was silent for a moment. “You didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?”

“You know what.”

“No, Lennie, I didn’t. But I wished I had.”

CHAPTER NINETY-ONE

Denver was packing the last of her things from the house she’d shared with Bobby when Leon called her with the news of Alejandro’s demise. Apparently it was all over the Web. She was shocked when she heard about the car wreck. Should she be upset or relieved that a scumbag like Alejandro Diego had been taken off the streets in such a horrific way?

Leon sounded quite cavalier about it. “Less work for us,” he joked. “Now we can move on.”

To what?
she wanted to say.
It’s not as if the whole Diego drug operation is about to come to a stop. Somebody will take over; it’s inevitable
.

“Check out The Truth with Jeff on the Internet,” Leon said. “There are other people involved in the crash. Bobby’s sister is one of them.”

“Max?”

“Some dude posted a story from the hospital. According to him, she’s in a coma.”

“Oh my
God
!” Denver gasped, thinking first Gino, now Max. Bobby had to be wrecked.

She didn’t know what to do about that. Bobby and she weren’t together—he wasn’t her concern anymore, yet she felt she had to do
something
.