A Fortune to Die For (White Oak - Mafia Series Book 1) (17 page)

She’d already told him what she wanted! “Return ne to Steve.”

He leaned close. “I like you, Meg. I really do. But if you’re playing me, I’ll let Traver handle this.”

God, why is it so hard to get rid of a billion dollars?
“Not flaying. Noney’s cursed. Don’t want it.”

He smiled. “Well, my life has been cursed from the day my wife died, so your money doesn’t scare me.” He stood up. “We’ll try it your way. Once you are well enough to move, I’ll put you in a location I don’t mind the feds finding on the off-chance Steve Williams actually gives a damn about you. You can wire me your money, and then I’ll email the wonder boy with directions to your location.”

He sighed. “I don’t expect he’ll show, so don’t stay there too long waiting, or the Campinellis might find you. Jonas won’t let Benito have Helen declared incompetent, but if you die, it solves all his problems. Since your current identity has no known relatives, the property will go to the state and Benito owns the governor. So if I let you go, I need you to stay alive or my half a billion will mean nothing to the three billion they’ll have once they chop down and sell those trees.”

“You’ll get one. They’d have less than two.”

He returned to his seat. “You won a billion dollars?”

“No, it grew.”

He chuckled. “You really do want to get rid of this money. I thought you only had about three hundred million left. A billion would definitely help my cause to destroy Benito Campinelli.”

Desperate to lock in this win-win scenario, which didn’t require her to marry anyone, she added, “I could hel, too.”

“Help how?”

“Choose your stocks.”

His brow furrowed again. “Why would you want to help me?”

“Only like Tess, Helen, and you.”

“Then give me the land.”

Why could men never be satisfied? “No. State park.”

“It’s never going to happen.”

“Yes, it will!” After the hell she’d been put through, it damn well better go through.

“Now you’re yelling, which is my cue to give you your shot and leave. We’ll try it your way. I’ll go arrange a location for you to be found…if the feds can take the time to rescue you. In the meantime, you need to work on getting better, which means lots of sleep.”

The shot barely registered. Sleep? Meg was in such pain, the possibility of sleep was right up there with the chance she’d ever see Steve again. He should have just let the serial killer get her.

Meg woke to a sharp pain as someone shoved her.

“Damn it, wake up!”

She opened her eyes and stared at Traver.

“Finally!”

She wondered if he’d come in here to kill her while the sheriff was out locating a safe location.

She stared at him, waiting…knowing she was helpless to stop him if he decided to smother her with a pillow. She could barely lift her arms.

“The enemy of your enemy should be a friend,” she said.

It took him a moment to decipher her words, and then he snorted. “You’re a woman, which makes you a walking plague to all.”

“I leased you a truck,” she reminded him.

He smiled. “Lee mentioned the same. I just thought you were too stupid to notice the lease was for a year instead of a week. Then I decided you were a born sucker until Lee told me you had like three hundred million, and I was going to have to marry you.” He shook his head. “Probably still have to unless you really do give Lee the money.”

“I will,” she said.

“Why?”

Anything was better than marrying Traver, but she kept her opinion to herself. “It’s cursed.”

Now he laughed outright. “You are anything but cursed. You got a rigged car down the hills, which should have been impossible. You grabbed the wrong key, which meant I got your room so you weren’t shot.”

“You were lucky, too,” she reminded him.

He smiled. “I was getting the hell out of town before you read the document and called the police.” His hands rubbed on his knees. “But you never did. Why didn’t you call the cops?”

“I signed it. Besides, I did run your car off the road. When the sheriff told me about the extent of your truck’s damage, I was glad the lease was for a year.”

His brow furrowed. “I can’t decide if you’re stupid or what? Who wants to help a person who swindled them? You do realize you didn’t actually buy the Subaru, right?”

“I knew I’d been conned moments after you left the room.”

“So you caused the feds to pull in Drecker for questioning? Did you send them after me, too?”

“No.”

“They won’t find me. Lee knows all their tricks because he was once one of them. Still gets a monthly pension check from them. That’s kind of funny. Unless you tell the feds who kept you safe while you healed. Then he’ll be a wanted man.”

“Why? George worked for the Campinellis. The sheriff rescued me and kept me safe from yet another attempt on my life.”

“Yeah, but then he forced you to give him your millions…”

“No. I offered. I gave it to him in appreciation for saving me.”

He studied her. “It’s a good story. You gonna stick to it.”

“Yes. I really like the sheriff.”

“And me?”

She grimaced. “Not so much.”

He laughed and relaxed. “If you had said you did, I was going to smother you with your pillow to protect Lee from his blind trust in you.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll have to let you live now. But if this goes wrong, I will hunt you down and strangle you with my bare hands.”

He seemed disturbingly sincere.

“You ever kill anyone?” she challenged, wondering if the sheriff had no clue what his son was truly like.

“No, but I’ll have no problem killing you if you cause Lee harm.”

“Why do you call him Lee instead of Dad?”

“Not sure he is. My grandfather said he wasn’t, and my mother never corrected him.”

“What exactly did he say?”

Traver shrugged. “That he wasn’t part of the family. He wasn’t a Regetti.”

“He could have just meant he wasn’t Italian. Why don’t you have a DNA test done?”

“And what if it proves my grandfather right?”

“Then you have a mentor and friend who loves you like a son. Pretty much what you’ve got now. But if I’m right, and you’re his son, then you’ve got a mentor, friend, and father who loves his son.”

Traver stared at her. “I don’t understand you at all. Why are you being so nice to me?”

“You know, the enemy of my enemy...”

The loud thumping noise of a helicopter crossed above the house. Traver ran to the window and peeked out. “Shit, the feds!” He turned and glared at her. “This is all your fault!”

A second later, he was gone from the room. She closed her eyes and prayed for them to find her, but the thumping faded away with no rescue, and Meg cried herself to sleep.

***

Meg woke to the gentle touch of the sheriff. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better.”

“Think you can walk?”

“Not even close,” she whispered.

“Can you sit up?”

“I don’t think so. My chest hurts.”

“Well, here’s my problem. The feds evidently do want you back. They’ve got helicopters searching for any sign of you or the white laundry van you left in.” He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “If Traver did what I told him to, they’ll never find the truck. However, flying as low as they are, they could find the crash site, which will probably result in a house to house search that might reach here, so we need to move you now.”

“Can you help me try to sit?” she asked.

He smiled. “Of course.”

Meg recalled a mother who once had declared birthing pains the most intense pain a human would ever feel, but thankfully, afterward, women could not recall the actual pain. Otherwise, no woman would ever have more than one child.

She could not imagine pain being any worse than what she experienced over the next three hours of travel. She passed out once, but the sheriff revived her with a shot of pain killer and smelling salts.

Once inside her new safe house, he placed her computer in her lap. “I had a computer guy check your PC over. He was really impressed how well the cushions inside your travel case protected it from harm.”

The sheriff watched as she gave instructions to sell all her stocks and wire the money to the bank number the sheriff provided.

Once complete, she closed her eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t just send the stocks and funds so the money would keep growing until you needed it, but this is the only way. I can send you an email of the financial spreadsheet I used to track all my investments, and you can duplicate it if you like.”

He stroked her hair. “I’d appreciate your advice greatly. How soon will I see the money?”

“When I transferred my money from my prior identity to this one, it took three days, but I was balking about selling and rebuying. They’ll sell all the stuff tomorrow. The stock and bond funds will be available the next day. Individual stocks take seven days to clear, so they should send the money in two parts.”

“How much will I get in two days?”

“About eight hundred million,” she whispered. God, she hadn’t thought matters could get worse, but she was wrong. Pain ripped through her chest, and her vision dimmed. She hardly noticed when he pulled the PC from her hands and kissed her on the temple.

“I’ll let Steve Williams know where you are.” He sat down, and with one finger typed on her laptop.

She had no idea if he was really letting Steve know, but then he had no idea if she might cancel the transfer after he left…which she could. In the end, this transaction rested upon trust.

He turned off the PC, then wiped the keyboard clean, and set it on the table across the room. “I hate to leave you, but I expect you’ll be rescued before I’m even safely out of the area. Don’t betray me.”

“I don’t betray friends, and you saved my life, so you’re my friend.”

A faint smile came to his lips. “I’m glad this worked out for both of us. I wish you a good life, Meg. You’re a very fine lady and deserve it. I advised them to send an emergency helicopter. Hopefully, they will.” He then hurried from the room.

Meg waited for either the pain to ease or help to come, but nothing was going her way anymore. Maybe the lottery money had held both good and terrible luck in equal measures. Maybe she’d run out of all luck when she gave up the money.

Maybe she was going to die and Campinelli would slaughter the forest of ancient white oaks and regain his power…

Her eyes opened at the nightmarish thought. No! She would not die. She had to live and save those trees. She had promised Helen and Tess. For those beautiful oak trees, she could endure anything.

To distract herself from the pain, she recalled her hike into the woods in as much detail as she could manage.

The giant oak, six feet in diameter, towered above, a hundred and fifty feet tall. Helen said it was nearly three hundred years old. It had been a young tree back in the 1700s.

To her recollection of high school history, the first half of the seventeen-hundreds had a great deal of European wars between England, France, and Spain, which then bled over to the colonies. The English also purposely stunted the growth of the American iron industry to ensure a market for their own product. During this time, she suspected all the tree had to deal with was the hardships of nature and possibly Indians, who might wish to cut small trees down to make a teepee or bow and arrows…or snow shoes. The Indians here would need snowshoes for the winter.

What would it be like to live three hundred years in one place? Not to be able to do a damn thing when short-lived people chopped at your trunk?

Did trees scream in pain as they fall to the ground? She’d read somewhere plants screamed when burnt, so surely a tree would protest their death as well.

She had to save these trees. Some were older than her country. They had been here far longer than any of the Iowans could claim, except possibly for the Indians in the reservation in Tomas.

Was Tomas the name of the place?

Why could she remember tenth-grade American History but not something someone told her three days ago?

She pressed her hands to her head. Maybe she could if her head would stop pounding.

And then it did.

Before she could make sense of why, the door burst open and armed men rushed inside, yelling something. She covered her head and rolled off the bed.

The moment she hit the floor a flash of excruciating pain riveted through her body, then it all went black.

Meg woke to a steady beep. Listening to it gave her comfort, so she just lay there for a long time, enjoying the sound. Then a purring came from her right. A moment later, she heard a soft whisper and then what sounded like a door closing.

Now all she heard was the beeping. She wasn’t sure, but she thought…hoped…the voice had been Steve’s.

Finally, she garnered the strength to open her eyes. White walls, white sheets, heart monitor… She was in a hospital. She recalled the intense men with guns who had burst into the room. Definitely not the Campinellis since they hadn’t killed her.

Her thoughts went back to the voice. Maybe it had been Steve’s. Maybe his phone was on vibrate and he had left the room so he could yell at someone.

She looked to each side, hoping there was a button somewhere she could push. Then she could ask the nurse to find the man yelling at his phone.

Upon checking both sides and the back wall, she sighed in disappointment. No button.

So she tried yelling…and quickly changed her mind. Even the effort to breathe in deeply hurt like hell. Closing her eyes, she returned to listening to the steady beat of her pulse. At least, her heart seemed to be working okay.

She’d almost fallen back to sleep when she heard the slight click of the door opening. She forced her heavy lids up and focused on the haggard face staring back at her in shock.

“Are you awake?” Steve’s voice asked.

“I barely recognize you,” she whispered. “You need sleep.”

He laughed and gripped her left hand. “I’ve been holding vigil here. When you came in, the doctors didn’t have much hope.”

“Why?”

“When you fell off the bed during the rescue, a broken rib punctured your lung.”

“Yeah, probably when I blacked out,” she muttered.

“You did more than black out. You were dead on arrival, but against all odds, the doctors managed to revive you.”

She smiled at him. “I couldn’t die… I have unfinished business.”

He frowned and gave a subtle shake of his head. “We’ll discuss your unfinished business later. A great deal has happened.” He walked away from her and stared out the windows.

“Are my trees okay?”

Her question caused a harsh bark of laughter or pain to burst from him. She wasn’t sure which.

“Your trees are fine. In fact, once the doctors declare you mentally competent, the new governor is ready to approve your land donation, although there may be some alterations to it.”

“Why?”

“Well, all your money is gone. So the funding you planned to give is no longer available.”

She frowned. “Are you sure?”

He returned to her side. “All your money is gone, so yes, I’m sure.”

“All three of my accounts are empty?” No way could Sheriff Cobbs have such hacking skills. So now she had to question if he’d even received the money she’d sent him.

“Three? You had more than the billion-dollar account?”

She relaxed and smiled at his question. “Yeah, I gave the lottery one away, but I should still have the monies for the land donation and my personal account.”

He relaxed for a moment but then frowned. “When did you do this?”

“After I was rescued. I decided if I didn’t get rid of my Lottery Curse, I wasn’t going to make it.”

Steve rubbed his temple. “You haven’t been near a computer since you were rescued.”

“No, my first rescue…from George. He was working for the Campinellis.”

Clearly, by Steve’s wide eyes and raised brow, he had yet to realize George was his problem.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Was she? Did she trust Sheriff Cobbs? Yes. But did she have any evidence other than his word, which Steve would never accept?

What the hell was she going to do now? It’s not like she could say “never mind”, and he’d drop the matter.

Then recalling an earlier comment, an idea came to mind. “I don’t know…it’s weird. I’m sure he worked for the Campinellis, but I don’t know how I know this. In fact, I can’t recall much of anything. I know the van rolled, and I was knocked out of it…and someone rescued me and took care of me…but I can’t remember details.”

Steve flipped open his phone. “I want an updated profile done on George. Search for any connection between him and the Campinellis.”

He hung up the phone and stared at her. “If you’re right, it would explain why nothing went our way for the last two weeks, but I hope you’re wrong.”

“I don’t think so. I can’t tell you why, but the part of my brain still working is very certain George worked for the mafia and had the van not rolled and someone saved me, I’d be dead now.”

“Do you remember anything about the person who saved you?”

“Not much. I remember liking the person.”

“Male or female?”

“I think male…although I’m not sure. I remember soft fingers on my forehead.”

“What else do you recall?”

“I was in a lot of pain, so I slept a lot.”

“About the person?”

“I’m certain I’d be dead now without their help, but I’ve no details.” She hated lying to him, but if she told him the truth, he’d focus on the sheriff rather than George, and George was his problem.

When the doctor arrived and ran her through a great deal of memory tests, he thankfully supported her lack of detail recollections. “Meg is lucky. All she appears to have lost is her most recent memories.”

“Is there any chance she’ll recall those later?”

He sighed. “Perhaps, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

Once the doctor left, Steve did as well, leaving her greatly disappointed. It’s not like she expected hugs, kisses, and declarations of undying love, but a caress on her cheek would have been welcomed.

Was Sheriff Cobbs right? Was his focus solely on his job? Did he only flirt to keep me obliging and obedient?

The idea hurt the only organ still working properly: her heart.

She closed her eyes, hoping to hold off the tears, but it didn’t do any good. They flowed down her cheeks all the same.

Meg woke to a familiar caress of her cheek. She looked up and smiled at Steve. He did still love her.

He retrieved his hand and turned away.

Or not…

“Are you up to checking on your other accounts? I need to know if they got it all. If they did, I’ll need to start filling out paperwork to get you covered by the government.”

“Help me sit up.”

“No can do. The doctor says you must remain horizontal for the next three weeks.”

“Then put the PC on my chest.”

“And possibly re-puncture your lung? No ma’am.”

“Then how am I supposed to do this?”

“I will either hold the laptop above your chest for you to type, or you can verbally lead me through it.

“We’ll try the first. I don’t like letting strangers know my passwords.”

His eyes narrowed at her words, but he remained silent as he lifted the computer and held it above her chest.

“You have to tilt it so I can see the keyboard,” she complained.

The keyboard tilted.

Within seconds of holding her hands up at an angle, they trembled and ached. Upon confirming the money for the trees was still there, she gave up. “I’m exhausted. I’ll check the other one later.”

She closed her eyes and feigned sleep to avoid further discussion with him. She sensed he continued to stare at her for several minutes, then the sense of his presence faded, and moments later, she heard the soft click of the door.

***

When Meg woke, he sat in the chair by her bed. “Morning.” His brow furrowed with worry.

“Morning,” she replied cautiously.

“There’s a Federal Internal Affairs agent outside who wishes to ask you a few questions. They might be of a personal nature, which are not meant to impugn your character. The only character being judged is mine, so please answer truthfully.” He then rose and walked outside.

A man in an ugly brown suit came in and smiled at her. “Miss...” He glanced down at the open file in his hands. “Williams… Are you any relation to Agent Williams?”

“I don’t think so. However, I may have subconsciously chosen his name because he was the policeman who got the FBI to provide me with a new identity.”

“Policeman?”

“Yes, the first time I met him, he was a policeman. Later, I learned he was FBI.”

“And how did you learn he was FBI?”

“He showed up in Iowa after the first attempt to murder me occurred. He said he’d been assigned the case, and I challenged him. Why would the Danville police send a man to Iowa to investigate an attempted murder outside of their jurisdiction? He explained he was FBI.”

“Did he tell you why he’d been undercover?”

“It seemed the large donation I had given the Danville Police caught your attention.”

“Anything else?”

“Not that I recall, but I seem to be weak on some of my details since I died.”

His head popped up. “Pardon?”

“I evidently had stopped breathing by the time I reached the hospital. The doctor says I may or may not get back those memories, but I should consider myself lucky because I could have been brain dead.”

He wrote a considerable amount on his pad, more so than she had told him. In fact, he wrote so long she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

“Miss Williams!”

She opened her eyes and stared at the annoyed man in the ugly brown suit. “Are you still here?”

“We haven’t completed the interview.”

“Okay. Can you speed it up? I’m really sleepy.”

He sat down and opened the file. “Have you and Agent Williams engaged in sexual intercourse?”

“What?” she yelped. “No!”

“Has he ever touched you?”

“Touched me how? Sexually? No.”

“Then he has never touched you in any manner?”

“I’m pretty sure he gripped my elbow and possibly placed his hand on the small of my back when leading me from cars and through doors.”

“Can you state the details around these incidents?”

“Sorry, I’ve just got vague memories.”

He thumped his pen in agitation. “Then how can you be sure he didn’t touch you sexually?”

“Seriously? Agent Williams is a hunk. You don’t think I’d remember if he hit on me? Trust me—any woman would take such a memory to her grave.”

“So he’s good in bed?”

“I’m assuming he would be, but I have no firsthand knowledge since he remained completely GI Agent with me.”

“But you can’t remember…” he challenged.

“I’m having trouble with details, but I seem to have general memories. For example, I can’t remember the details, but I am certain the FBI agent who drove my van, George, works for the Campinellis.”

“What proof do you have?” the agent demanded.

“I have no detailed memories.” God, this guy had some nerve challenging her memory when he couldn’t remember the simple fact her memories lacked precision.

“Did Steve tell you George was mafia?”

She sighed. “I have no idea. Are we done? Because I’m really tired.”

“No, we aren’t done.”

She closed her eyes and fell asleep. She faintly heard him yell her name but chose to ignore it.

The next thing she heard was Steve ordering him to leave. “What the hell is wrong with you, yelling at a person in her weakened condition?”

“She refused to answer my questions!”

“She’s been asleep the entire half-hour you’ve been in here?”

“No, she was awake at times.”

“And did she answer any questions while awake?”

“Not to my satisfaction, no.”

“Did you ask her the key question to your investigation?”

“And what do you think that might be?”

“Did you ask her if we had any form of sexual contact?”

The man huffed. “I did, but I’m not at liberty to divulge her response.”

“She’s a very honest, forthright woman, so I know her response. This charge is bullshit, and if the person who claimed it was George Cooper, then I’m pretty sure it was to get me pulled off the case so he could assassinate Miss Williams with ease.”

“So you’re the one who told her George worked for the Campinellis?”

“No,
she
told me George was my problem. Since she had no proof, I requested his profile be updated with a close eye for contacts to the Campinelli family.”

“That wasn’t your call to make,” the man yelled.

“The hell it wasn’t! I have the right to have any man or woman on my team investigated at any time.” Steve snorted in contempt. “For a guy paid to seek out bad agents, I find it odd you aren’t asking me if I found anything.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. He’s been wired nine thousand a week for the last year from a numbered account.”