Читать книгу Strictly Confidential - Terri Reed - Страница 9

“T his is strictly confidential. Off the record. Mum’s the word.”

Colleen Montgomery paused in the act of pulling out a navy business suit from her closet to arch a brow at her sister-in-law, Holly.

Holly flipped back her long dark-brown hair, which she’d curled and wore loose rather than in her traditional ponytail. “I’m serious. You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

Grimacing, Colleen stared. “That’s like asking me not to breathe.”

Holly rolled her brown eyes. “And you’re not wearing that suit. You’re wearing the dress I brought you.”

Rehanging the suit, Colleen gestured with her hands. “Hello. I’m an investigative reporter. My life is about telling everyone what I see and hear.”

“Promise me, okay?” Holly shifted on the bed where she’d sat as soon as she’d entered Colleen’s bedroom. She was wearing a pretty lilac party dress that flattered her even with her bulging tummy, and she’d come in on the pretext of bringing a dress for Colleen to wear to the museum gala. Now, however, Colleen suspected her sister-in-law had another agenda, one that brought worry to her pretty brown eyes and marred the normally smooth skin between her brunette eyebrows.

“Is this about my brother?” Colleen moved to her vanity to brush her blond hair. “’Cause if it is, I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

Holly twisted her diamond wedding ring. “It is about him and me.”

Colleen held up a hand and met Holly’s gaze through the mirror’s reflection. “I can already tell this is going to be more information than I want to hear about my big brother. Unless he’s dragged you back into the FBI with him, in which case I’ll go clobber him on the head. Considering you’re carrying my niece or nephew, the FBI is not a good place for you.”

Holly grinned and patted her burgeoning belly. “No, of course not.” She lifted the sheath dress off the bed. “Here, put this on while I explain.”

Eyeing the little black shift with trepidation, Colleen said, “You really think I should wear that?”

“Yes. For once dress like a woman.”

Colleen pulled a face. “Cute.”

Holly laughed. “You know what I mean. All you wear are pants and button-down blouses. Time to move out of your comfort zone.”

Colleen took the dress. It wasn’t exactly something that could be worn while chasing down a story, not if you still hoped to be taken seriously. Of course, tonight she hardly expected to find anything of interest worth reporting. She moved into the bathroom to dress. “Fine. Start talking.”

“Do you remember when Victor Convy kidnapped me?”

Colleen scoffed as she changed out of the jeans and cotton T-shirt she’d put on after showering earlier. “Hard to forget a thing like that.”

“Right. Well, something happened that I never told anyone about.”

Anticipation of a story fluttered in Colleen’s belly. Her parents often joked that she’d greeted the world with a notepad and pen in hand. “Okay.”

“Remember how Jake had said he couldn’t remember if he’d shot Convy or not because of his concussion?”

Stepping into the dress, Colleen made a noise of affirmation. The fear of losing her brother still gnawed at her like a dog with a bone. But that came with love. She had no choice but to love her brothers and now their wives, but thought thankfully that she didn’t have time for a romantic love. She didn’t want to carry around that kind of fear.

“He didn’t,” Holly said.

Colleen’s heart picked up speed at the juicy tidbit of information. She stepped out of the bathroom, holding the dress to her chest. “ You did?”

“No.” Holly lowered her voice and a conspiratorial light entered her eyes. “Alessandro Donato did.”

“What?!” The dress dropped to the floor and pooled around Colleen’s ankles. She quickly pulled it back up and slipped her arms through the holes.

Holly eagerly nodded. “I’m telling you, he came out of the trees dressed all in black like some superhero, shot Convy, and made certain Jake was alive before untying me. Then he disappeared as stealthily as he came when he heard the sirens coming.”

Colleen blinked, unsure how to process Holly’s tale. “So you’re saying that Alessandro Donato rescued you and my brother from Convy?”

Eyes wide, Holly bobbed her head. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Wow! That’s huge.”

Rumor had it that the mysterious newcomer, although Lidia Vance’s nephew, had somehow been responsible for the shooting of his uncle, Mayor Maxwell Vance.

How could Donato save one man’s life and then be suspected of trying to take the life of someone in his own family?

She’d seen Donato at church with his aunt and cousins, but was that just for show? What was the Italian’s relationship with God? And why would he sneak around playing hero?

Struggling with the zipper, Colleen asked a question only Holly could answer. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Come here, let me do that,” Holly said.

Obliging, Colleen turned her back to Holly.

“Hey, he saved our lives. I figured I owed him my silence when he asked for it.” Holly pulled the zipper to the top.

The silky fabric of the dress clung to Colleen’s curves and swished softly as she sat down on the bed next to Holly. “Why tell me this now?”

Holly took Colleen’s hands. “Because I don’t believe that he had anything to do with my uncle Max’s shooting.”

“Hmm.” Colleen hadn’t wanted to believe the good-looking Italian was capable of such evil when she’d heard he was a suspect in the mayor’s shooting, either, but she hadn’t anything concrete to base her gut instinct on.

And in light of the tale Holly had just told…

“I wonder what his story is?”

Holly squeezed her hand. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Meaning?”

Holly wiggled her eyebrows. “I saw the way you and he were making cow eyes at each other at the Valentine’s dinner.”

“Oh, please.” Colleen stood to hide the heat in her cheeks. “We were not making cow eyes.”

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t find him attractive.”

Colleen reached to the back of her closet and grabbed a pair of black strappy sandals that she hadn’t worn since her oldest brother’s wedding. “So he’s attractive. Big whoop. I’m not in the market for a man.”

Holly’s little chuckle grated on Colleen’s nerves. A romantic relationship would only hinder her career. Colleen’s plans for the future didn’t include risking her heart. She’d tried that once in college and the constant worry and concern she’d felt took her focus away from journalism. Now that she was moving up in her chosen profession, she had no interest in anything romantic.

Holly’s intent gaze captured Colleen’s attention. “In all seriousness, would you investigate him for me? I need to know what’s up with him before I tell anyone about what happened.”

Colleen held out her hand to help Holly from the bed. “I’ll see what I can do. But I can’t promise I won’t report what I find.”

Holly’s mouth quirked. “Can you promise to tell me first so I can prepare Jake?”

“You should tell him anyway.”

“I know.” Distress entered Holly’s eyes. “I will. But I want all the facts before I say anything. You know your brother, he’ll want all the details.”

Colleen smiled. “That is true.”

Holly preceded Colleen into the hall. As Colleen pulled her bedroom door shut behind her she thought about Alessandro Donato.

Tall, dark and mysterious.

The quintessential widower playboy, or so the rumors went. Hero in disguise or con man with an agenda?

She’d give the charming Italian the benefit of the doubt, since he’d protected Holly and Jake when they’d needed it.

But if Alessandro Donato was up to no good, she’d nail his hide to the wall all over the front page of the Sentinel regardless of how attractive she found him.

Alessandro Donato had a vow to fulfill. A vow to rid the world of drug dealers. Such people had cost him his family.

From his vantage point on the opposite side of trendy Fourth Street, he surveyed the bustling crowd making their way toward the door of the Colorado Springs Impressionist Museum for the opening of the Monet, Manet and Renoir collection.

He tugged on the stiff bow tie at his neck, wishing he’d thought to bring his own tux from his home in Italy.

But he’d had no way of knowing he’d still be here on this crisp May night. He’d thought that with the death of Baltasar Escalante, known drug lord, his time in Colorado Springs would have ended long ago and he’d have moved on to another assignment.

But against all logic, Escalante hadn’t died when his plane went down and now had resurfaced back in this thriving community.

Only, Alessandro couldn’t ID him.

His sources were confident that Escalante had had plastic surgery, so the drug lord could be any one of the men in this town. He could even be here tonight.

At the door to the museum Alessandro showed his invitation and was admitted with a cursory nod from the burly doorman.

Once inside, Alessandro took stock of the situation, noting the exits, the windows and the corridor leading to the offices where the staff of the museum worked. He’d only lived this long because he never took anything for granted.

To his right, a young, fresh-faced girl took coats and wraps from the glittering partygoers. He moved forward into the heart of the museum. Gleaming blond hardwood floors shone with a high gloss, picking up the effervescence of the crystal chandeliers.

Several benches were arranged in strategic positions, giving patrons places to sit while they contemplated the works of art on the walls. Classical pieces that attracted a huge crowd. Alessandro had to give the curator credit for securing such masterpieces.

A waiter laden with trays of savory appetizers paused and offered his fare to Alessandro.

“No, grazie ,” he murmured as his gaze snagged on the museum’s curator, Dahlia Sainsbury.

She moved with lethal grace, like a feline on the prowl. Her tall, elegant frame was draped in a signature Chanel dress of soft pink, which emphasized her pale, almost translucent skin.

As usual her dark-as-night hair was sleekly pulled back into a fancy twist at the base of her neck. Her ruby-red lips spread into a slight smile that didn’t reach her sultry eyes.

Her beauty left him cold, and it had nothing to do with his vow never again to be romantically involved with a woman. No, he suspected Dahlia’s beauty covered a heart of deceit.

Alessandro made his way through the crowd toward Dahlia. His instincts had been on full alert for some time now, warning him that she had something to do with Escalante. Alessandro had found a strong tie, one he hoped would lead him to the man responsible for the escalating drug trade in Colorado. The man most likely behind the shooting of Mayor Maxwell Vance.

Derisive anger shot through Alessandro. Some people thought that he had had something to do with his uncle’s shooting. Ridiculous.

“Nice show tonight, Miss Sainsbury. Your gala is a fine success,” Alessandro said as he halted and forced himself not to choke on the cloyingly sweet perfume permeating the air around the evening’s hostess.

“So glad you approve, Mr. Donato,” she responded in a clipped British accent that eerily mirrored that of another of Escalante’s cohorts.

Alistair Barclay: the British hotel tycoon and Diablo crime syndicate kingpin who’d made a deal with the drug cartel run by Escalante. Together they’d used Barclay’s luxury hotel business as a cover for their dirty dealings.

But through the dedicated efforts of various law-enforcement individuals and private citizens, the crime organization had been dismantled. Barclay had gone to prison and Escalante disappeared.

Recently Barclay had turned up dead in his prison cell. Alessandro was sure that Escalante was behind the assassination.

“I’d be interested in how you acquired such remarkable pieces for the exhibition,” Alessandro said, focusing his mind on the task at hand.

She arched a dark, winged brow. “Ah, so that is why you called me earlier this week. I apologize that I was unavailable. I also understand you were here yesterday while we were setting up. Do accountants for…what is it you do again?”

One side of his mouth lifted. Not for a second did he believe she’d forgotten. “I’m an accountant with the European Union.”

“Ah, yes. The European Union. What would an accountant do with such knowledge?”

“You’d be surprised at the connections I have.”

A sly look entered her eyes. “Connections that I might find useful?”

He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, dropping the bait. “Connections you might find profitable.”

She inclined her head. “I like the sound of that. Punch?” she asked, stopping a waiter as he passed with a tray of crystal glasses filled with a colorful concoction.

Without waiting for his answer she handed him a glass. “To your health and to a future business relationship.”

Over the rim of the punch-filled glass he met Dahlia’s dark gaze. He suppressed the shudder that ran through him.

Somehow he felt that he’d just sold a piece of his soul. Or at least put it in hock.

Colleen felt bare in the little black tank-style dress that Holly had declared she must wear since she couldn’t wear it herself. Colleen clutched the sheer blue wrap that her mother had given her tighter around her shoulders as she trailed behind her brothers, Jake and Adam, and their wives into the museum.

“Easy, now,” Jake cooed to his pregnant wife, as they made their way inside.

“Honestly, you’d think I was about to give birth this instant the way you’re hovering, Jake,” Holly gently chided, even as she leaned on his arm.

Colleen stifled a smile, noting that Adam was just as solicitous to Kate, as well.

She was happy for both her brothers. Each had found the love of their hearts. Their soul mates. Colleen didn’t have time for soul mates or any type of mate. Her life was about getting the next story and that was the only reason she’d agreed to come to this spectacle tonight.

Her editor wanted his people on the lookout for the next scoop. Well, she could only hope there’d be something to snag her interest here; all the town’s most prominent citizens were attending. But she wasn’t into society pieces. She much preferred gritty hard news.

“Ladies,” her older brother Adam said, indicating the coat check.

Colleen frowned. “I’ll just hang on to this, thanks.”

Holly bumped up next to her and whispered none too softly, “Chicken.”

Colleen gritted her teeth at the dual grins her brothers flashed her way.

Being the baby sister of the Montgomery brothers hadn’t made for an easy childhood. Colleen had tagged along, wanting to be a part of that special world that only boys could roam. She’d long ago realized that the only way she’d get the appreciation and approval she craved was to be the best at whatever she did and not let being female hold her back.

That was why wearing a clingy shift that revealed her shoulders and showed off her calves left her feeling awkward and self-conscious. But she wasn’t a chicken.

She slipped the wrap from her shoulders and handed it to Adam. He whistled between his teeth. “Maybe you better leave it on.”

“Be nice,” admonished his wife, Kate. “She looks lovely.”

Colleen caught the dubious glance her brothers exchanged and bit her lip, wishing now she’d stuck to her pantsuit.

“ Lovely is not quite the right word,” said Jake. He reached forward and tucked a lock of hair behind Colleen’s ear. “I’d say beautiful is the right one.”

Colleen blinked as sudden tears burned her eyes. She couldn’t remember her brother ever saying something so…flattering.

Adam hugged her. “I think our baby sister’s grown into a woman. Finally.”

His words warmed her like the first rays of sun on a cold winter’s morn even as she punched him in the arm for his teasing.

“Okay, boys. Leave your sister alone,” Kate said in her no-nonsense nurse voice. Then she hooked her arm through Adam’s. “Shall we go in and see these paintings we’ve heard so much about?”

Jake slipped his arm around Holly’s expanding waist and guided her in. Adam and Kate followed. Colleen waited a moment and took a few deep breaths.

She smiled and nodded hello to several people as they filed in. She waved to Reverend Gabriel Dawson from Good Shepherd Christian Church and his wife, Susan, who ran the shelter in town, as they entered.

As she started forward she heard her name called. She turned to find Sam and Jessica Vance walking toward her.

“Hey, Sam. Jessica.” Sam’s wavy dark-brown hair was subdued with a bit of gel, and his tall, muscular frame filled out his tuxedo nicely. Beside him, Jessica, his wife of a year, fairly glowed in her silver floor-length dress and upswept hair.

“You’ve got a story idea for me?” Colleen eyed Sam with hope.

Several times Sam had brought ideas for stories to her attention. Stories that needed the sort of investigating the police didn’t have the manpower for.

“We’re still working on the arsonist cases. Haven’t had any breaks. You turn up anything?”

She shook her head. “I know Chief O’Brien had something to do with the hospital fire but I haven’t nailed down what yet.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “So far we’ve got nothing to hold him on.”

“You know, I keep thinking that somehow the fires at Travis’s and Quinn’s businesses are connected to the hospital fire. I’m working on putting the pieces together.”

Interest sparked in Sam’s eyes. “Keep me posted on anything you come up with.”

“I will. Enjoy the exhibition,” Colleen replied and then excused herself.

She walked into the main area of the museum and looked around in awe at all the glittering ladies and well-dressed gentlemen. She felt like a fake, all dressed up as though she was one of these people.

This wasn’t her. She liked khakis and loafers, not these black torture devices squeezing her feet.

“Hello, Colleen. Enjoying yourself?”

She turned toward the older woman who had stepped up beside her. “Lidia, hello. I just arrived. This is very impressive.”

Lidia Vance, Mayor Maxwell Vance’s wife, nodded in agreement. She wore a stunning red two-piece outfit that accentuated her olive skin and dark eyes. Italian by birth, Lidia had come to this country as Max’s young bride back in the sixties. “I wish Max were here to see this.”

“How is the mayor doing?”

Max Vance had been shot, but luckily not killed. His attacker was still at large.

Colleen had a hard time fitting Alessandro into the role of assassin. He was more the playboy type, not one to dirty his hands. But—impressions could be deceiving.

There was no mistaking he held an appeal that few women—except herself, of course—could resist. Like a movie star come to visit in their small community, he attracted attention.

Her sources had informed her that Donato had been hanging around the museum lately. He’d sat next to Dahlia Sainsbury, the museum’s curator, at the Valentine’s Day dinner. Not that Colleen had paid much attention or had an emotional reaction to the pair. It hadn’t mattered to her in the least. But now…what connection did they have?

“Max is improving every day. The doctor says he’ll be able to come home soon to recuperate.”

Refocusing on the conversation, Colleen said, “That’s wonderful. I’m sure Dad will be happy to hear that.” Frank Montgomery and Maxwell Vance were lifelong friends and godparents to each other’s eldest children.

Lidia smiled. “Tell your father hello for me. I know Max would welcome another visit.”

“I’ll let him know. I’m surprised my parents aren’t here yet.” Her parents were still heavily involved in community affairs even though Frank’s term as mayor had long since passed.

Lidia patted her arm and moved away to talk to an older couple bedecked in jewels and finery.

Colleen looked for her editor and for the newspaper’s photographer but didn’t see either. She’d wait until they arrived before she started interviewing the guests. This kind of event wasn’t her normal gig, but Al Crane, her editor, had insisted she attend and conduct interviews because her family knew everyone in town and they’d all talk to her.

She wasn’t sure that was true, but she did want to ask the new curator about Alessandro Donato and his interest in the museum. She wandered over to a sand-colored exposed brick wall that made an elegant backdrop for Monet’s “Poppy Field Near Giverny.” She liked the vibrant hues: reds, blues and greens.

She moved along the wall inspecting other works by Monet when a strange awareness brushed over her. She stilled.

Slowly, she turned and scanned the room. Her gaze landed on a tall, black-haired man. Her breath hitched when she realized Alessandro Donato was staring at her. His dark, unreadable eyes conveyed a message she had trouble believing.

Even though her brothers had stated she looked beautiful tonight, Alessandro’s expression made her feel beautiful.

Which was bad, very bad, because even if she had time for a relationship, he was the wrong kind of man to get goofy over. She wouldn’t give up her independence for a playboy, no matter what, so how he saw her or made her feel was irrelevant.

Then why did she have the crazy urge to run and hide?