Читать книгу Ironclad Cover - Dana Marton - Страница 8

She was out of prison.

He rubbed the headache at his temple. She was out and at the worst possible time. And she had lied. Whatever she was doing, this was not some government program to help her to readjust to society after her years of incarceration.

Where had she gotten the car from, the apartment and the job? He had expected some halfway house where he could get to her easily, where there’d be a bunch of other ex-cons and weapons and drugs, so when her body was found, not much would be questioned.

Instead, here she was in the Caribbean, as high and mighty as she had ever been, with another company and employees and money. What game was she playing?

And who was her guy? They’d left the party together, drove to the ritzy part of the island and parked. Probably making out. He should have taken care of her then and there. Maybe both of them. But it had been dark and to top it off the car had tinted windows. He didn’t want to miss.

So he had waited until they were at the restaurant, all lit up, and he had missed anyway. And then they disappeared. He’d spent the rest of the night in front of her apartment, waiting for her to come home as anger and frustration boiled in his guts.

She wasn’t going to let the last four years go. She would investigate, had started already, the alarms he had set in place had been going off one after the other.

He had to get to her before she got to him. It was as simple as that.

SAM WAS SLAPPING STAMPS on a stack of envelopes at the front desk as Anita walked in the door, back from her business meeting that was likely to net them another contract, but was—thank God—uneventful otherwise. No sign of the shooter from the night before.

Gina, who had reassured her that as far as she could tell they hadn’t been watched or followed, passed her and went straight for the bathroom. They’d been circling the block for a parking place for nearly thirty minutes.

They needed to make contact with Cavanaugh. The weekly paper she had read in the car on the way back gave her an idea the other three women were likely to resist. Not that it would stop her from trying.

“The coffee vendor brought some flavored coffees and I made the Italian Delight. You’ve gotta try this,” Sam said as she worked. “We’re on our second pot.”

The way she angled her head had a familiar slant to it and déjà vu hit Anita with a pang of homesickness so sharp it cut her off at the knees. She stopped and stood there, let it wash over her. Diosmio, how many times had she walked into her old office like that and been offered coffee by her sister? And Sam looked a little like Maria, too, around the eyes.

Was Maria still the first from the family to arrive to the office each morning? Dee, Anita’s ex-secretary, had always come in late and left late, an arrangement she’d been happy to make for the single mother who needed the flextime to work around her babysitter’s schedule. Dee worked for her brother, Rob, now.

Anita wondered if Dee was in love with him yet. Dee had the habit of falling in love with the men around her. Unfortunately, they tended to use her then discard her. She couldn’t remember how many times this had happened since she’d known the young woman. But Dee dusted herself off each time then tried again. Some people accused her of being promiscuous for going after so many men. But Anita understood what was behind it all—a deep-seated, desperate need for love that she was always trying to find in all the wrong places.

Rob wouldn’t take advantage of that. He simply wasn’t that kind of guy. And Dee wasn’t Rob’s type, in any case.

Roberto, her oldest brother, handled safety at Pellegrino’s. Maria, the youngest of the four siblings, did human resources. Nigel, Maria’s husband, headed sales. Chris, the middle brother, just a year younger than Anita, worked IT. Anita had been responsible for the finance department. The rest of the directors were outsiders, hired for their skills, well paid and well appreciated, but the family definitely formed the driving force behind the business. They wanted to keep it like that for as long as possible.

On any given day, family members who were in the office would have coffee together in the morning, catching up before heading off to their individual departments. Pellegrino’s was a beehive compared to Savall, the difference between an established company and a struggling new one.

Pellegrino’s had more than two dozen employees in the office alone, in addition to the hundred or so construction workers and specialists they employed. They worked on several projects at a time, mostly residential. The hours were murder, but she wouldn’t have traded her job for anything. Although, William, the last man she’d been semi-seriously seeing, had tried to talk her into quitting often enough. He’d been jealous of the time she’d spent at work. He never understood her—one of the reasons why they had broken up eventually. Still, the relationship hadn’t been a complete wash. Her sister, Maria, met William’s brother, Nigel, and the two were blissfully married to this day.

Nigel didn’t resent the company like William had, instead, he became part of it. He understood that Pellegrino’s meant family to them, especially to Anita.