Double Lucky (43 page)

Naturally Maria would be there. So would Lucky, Billy Melina, even Alex Woods.

Henry checked out the Keys online and discovered that there was a grand opening party planned. Tickets were expensive, but that was no problem.

Ah … this would be his opportunity to reconnect with Maria. And this time he'd be better prepared to take her away forever.

Nobody was coming between him and Maria again. The two of them were destined to be together.

And that was exactly the way it should be.

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Anthony was not happy. Over the last week he'd fielded three calls from Detective Franklin in Vegas.

He called up Renee to complain.

“There's nothing I can do,” Renee said, stoic as usual. She was experiencing her own problems regarding Detective Franklin. The woman was like a bulldog hanging on to a bone with her incessant questions. And Susie was on her case too.

“What
did
happen to Tasmin?” Susie kept on asking. “And why can't I say she left with Anthony?”

“Because you can't. If you do, it will make
me
out to be a liar.”

“So where
is
Tasmin?”

“Nobody knows.”

This answer did not satisfy Susie, who every so often continued to question her.

“Whaddya mean, nothin'?” Anthony demanded over the phone. “Why's she still callin' me? Askin' the same dumb questions.”

“Tasmin's ex-husband is kicking up a big stink about her being missing, apparently he has connections in the police department,” Renee explained. “I've been questioned three times, the detective has talked to Susie twice, and half the hotel staff have been interrogated.”

“Pay the bitch off,” Anthony growled. “Offer her fifty thousand in cash. She'll go for it.”

“No, she won't.”

“Give it a try, Renee. Money talks.”

“It'll look wrong if I even attempt to pay her off. She'll take it as a sign we have something to hide,” Renee said, impatient to get him off the phone.

“You think I give a shit?” Anthony responded. “Get the cunt off my fuckin' case, that's all I care about.”

Renee hung up the phone. She'd had it with Anthony Bonar. After Tasmin's brutal murder she was done.

There had to be a way to get him out of their life once and for all.

And then it occurred to her. There was.

*   *   *

Anthony had been on his plane on and off for the past ten days, flying back and forth between New York, Miami, and Mexico City, with a crucial twenty-four-hour business trip to Colombia thrown in. Anthony always felt like a peasant whenever he visited the ruling drug lords in Colombia. Those men lived like kings in their huge mansions three times the size of his, with an army of guards on call and dozens of servants. But he couldn't complain—he was not exactly suffering.

In New York he'd received a report that Carlita was not cheating on him. He was so pleased that he'd invested another two hundred thousand in her business. Then he'd spent a pleasant couple of days with his elegant Italian mistress visiting all his favorite New York restaurants and clubs. Carlita was a class act; he was definitely keeping her around.

Back in Miami, Emmanuelle was as demanding as ever. Her latest request was that she wanted him to take her on a vacation. “Please, honey,” she'd begged. “You never take me anywhere.”

“Where you wanna go?” he'd asked.

“Europe,” she'd replied, all excited at the prospect. “Paris, London, and Rome.”

One thing about Emmanuelle, she always went for the best.

“Tell you what,” he'd said. “You'll come with me to Vegas. There's a big hotel opening, it's gonna be quite a scene.”

“But sugar pie—”

“Vegas or nothin',” he'd said flatly. “Your choice.”

Shortly after he'd invited Emmanuelle, Francesca informed him that she expected to go with him to Vegas.

“You can't fly,” he'd said, determined to put his grandmother off. “The doc told you no traveling with your heart condition, ya gotta take it easy.”

“My heart is strong enough to witness the downfall of the Santangelo family,” Francesca had replied. “I'm coming with you to Vegas.”

Stubborn old woman. What could he do? He'd finally decided to take Francesca
and
Emmanuelle. Francesca was a woman of the world, she'd understand that a man had to have a mistress as well as a wife—it was the traditional Italian way. Although he suspected Francesca would have preferred Carlita to Emmanuelle.

Problems, always problems. But first he had to spend a couple of days in Mexico City attending to business.

*   *   *

After sleeping with the drug enforcement agent, Irma suffered a panic attack. She couldn't help wondering if Oliver Stanton had known who she was, and by sleeping with her was he attempting to garner information about her husband?

The situation forced her to rethink her plans. She sat at home and worried about what she'd done. And to make things worse, Luis was still refusing to come into the house, which she couldn't understand.

She finally instructed Marta to tell Luis to meet her in the bedroom to check out her houseplants.

“I keep on asking him,” she informed Marta. “It seems he doesn't understand me. And my orchids need special attention.”

Marta nodded, her face revealing nothing. “
Sí, señora
,” she said, wondering if Señora Bonar was aware that several members of the staff suspected that she and Luis might be having sex. If they were, it wasn't right. Marta knew Luis's family; she also knew his pregnant wife. But Marta was not one to gossip, and she couldn't say exactly what was going on behind closed doors, although Señora Bonar was giving her an awful lot of time off whenever Luis entered the house.

Ten minutes later the old gardener knocked on Irma's bedroom door.

When she saw who it was, she was angry. Luis not coming when she'd specifically requested him was most disrespectful.

Gritting her teeth, she showed the old gardener the bedroom plants and her precious orchids.

The grizzled old man spoke very little English. “
Orquidea
no need much water,” he informed her.

“Thank you,” she said, tight-lipped.

“
Gracias, señora. Orquídea buenas.
”

Later she went down to the kitchen, cornered Marta, and asked her why Luis hadn't come to tend to her plants when she'd specifically requested his presence. She realized she was treading on dangerous territory, but she was determined to find out anyway.

“Luis go home early,” Marta explained, busying herself at the sink.

“Why was that?”

“His wife, she expect baby soon,” Marta said, wiping her hands on her apron.

“His
wife?
” Irma said, barely able to conceal her surprise. “I wasn't aware that Luis was married.”

“
Sí, señora.
”

Now she was really upset. Luis was married with a pregnant wife and he hadn't told her. This was unbelievable.

And yet … she still yearned for his touch. She still had a burning desire to feel his naked body up against hers.

Several days later Anthony arrived home, insisting on the usual round of parties at the house. Irma endured more evenings of too much rich food, endless karaoke, and adoring sycophants.

After a few days he got bored as usual, and informed her he was leaving for Las Vegas on yet another business trip. She wasn't sorry to see him go.

*   *   *

A few days before Anthony was due to leave for the opening of the Keys, one of the guards from his house appeared at his office and badgered his assistant, telling her that he had to see Señor Bonar regarding a matter of great urgency.

His assistant asked what it was in reference to. The guard replied that it was of utmost importance that he speak to Señor Bonar personally.

“Send him in,” Anthony said, puffing on a large cigar.

The man entered his office and planted himself in front of his desk. Anthony did not invite him to sit.

“Whaddya want?” he snapped. “Make it quick.”

“I am Cesar,” the guard said. “I have worked for you two years, Señor Bonar. I come here to tell you something of a delicate nature.”

“Spit it out,” Anthony growled, leaning back in his leather chair.

“My circumstances are such that I need to buy a new car,” Cesar said, his greedy eyes darting around the office.

Was this son of a bitch
blackmailing
him? Information in return for a car. Anthony couldn't believe the stones on this guy. It was outrageous.

“What information you got that gets you a fuckin' car?” he snarled.

“Private information, Señor Bonar,” Cesar said, standing up ramrod straight. “Information you would not want to go any further.”

“I wouldn't, huh?” Anthony said, expelling a stream of acrid smoke in Cesar's direction.

“No,
señor.
”

“Okay, we'll do it this way. You tell me what's on your mind, an' if it's worth anything I'll give you cash. An' if it's bullshit, you get nothin'. That fair enough for you?”

“
Sí, señor.
”

“Okay, let's hear what you got.”

Cesar glanced toward the door. “It is sensitive, Señor Bonar.”

“Speak!”

“I regretfully tell you,
señor
, that a person who should be trustworthy is not,” Cesar said, clearing his throat. “This man is taking advantage of your wife.”

“What the fuck you sayin'?” Anthony said, sitting bolt upright.

“There is a man working on your estate,
señor
, who is doing bad things with your wife.”

“Whaddya mean, bad things?” Anthony said, a muscle twitching beneath his left eye. “Is he raping her? Takin' money from her? What the fuck d'you mean?”

“This man enters your house when you are not there. He stays many hours. He spends time in your bedroom with the
señora.
”

“Who is this person?” Anthony demanded, his eyes cold as steel.

“One of your gardeners,
señor
.” Cesar paused, experiencing a moment of deep satisfaction before continuing. “His name is Luis.”

“You sure about this?” Anthony said, staring him down.

“
Sí, señor.
”

“Absolutely fuckin'
sure
?”

“
Sí, señor
,” Cesar said, blinking rapidly several times.

Anthony unlocked his desk drawer, took out a wad of cash, and threw it at Cesar. “Take this and get the fuck outta my office. An' if you open your mouth to anyone 'bout this—anyone at all—I cut out your fuckin' tongue with a buzz saw. Get it?”

“
Sí, señor.
” Cesar said, backing out of the office.

The moment he left, Anthony began pacing. This couldn't be true, could it? This couldn't be possible that Irma, his
wife
, and a gardener on his estate were having sex. In
his
house. On
his
bed.

Some other man fucking his wife.

It was unthinkable.

And yet … this stupid guard had come to him with the information, and why would the man lie? Why would he put himself in jeopardy?

Anthony thought back to Acapulco and the change in Irma. She was insolent, withdrawn, and looks-wise she was glowing.

Yes! It was true! The bitch was getting fucked! And not by him.

After simmering for a while, Anthony summoned The Grill into his office.

“This is what I want you t'do,” he said, issuing instructions. “An' make sure ya take care of it immediately.”

*   *   *

Several hours after Anthony left the house, he called Irma from his office and informed her he was sending his car for her, and that she was to meet him in the city for lunch.

Lunch? In the city? She'd thought he was on his way to Vegas.

“I'm not sure…” she began.

“There's somebody I want you to meet,” he said.

“Who?”

“A business acquaintance. The car'll be there shortly.”

Irma was ready when the car arrived. She was also apprehensive that somehow or other Anthony might have found out about Oliver. Over the past two weeks she'd received several calls from her dinner date, none of which she'd returned.

What if Oliver called while she was with Anthony? What if she bumped into him in the city?

This was not an ideal situation. Her nerves were on edge, and for now her plans were on hold.

*   *   *

Sitting behind his ornate desk, Anthony put down his phone and stared off into space. Who would have thought that his wife would betray him? Carlita? Yes. Irma? No.

Soon he would know for sure. And once he did, Irma would be punished in a way that would hurt her more than she could possibly imagine.

Nobody cheated on Anthony Bonar and got away with it. Nobody.

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

Max came up with what she considered to be a brilliant idea. Once again she ran it by Lennie, who was so into his upcoming movie he would've said yes to anything.

“Uh … there's this boy,” she informed him. “And when I got carjacked he kind of helped me. So…” She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I was, uh, thinking I could return the favor by inviting him to the Keys opening.”

“What did Lucky say?” Lennie asked, barely looking up from his computer.

“She said yes.”

“Okay. Go ahead, invite him.”

Later she phoned Lucky in Vegas and had the same conversation. Lucky was so into the opening of her hotel she would've said yes to anything. Well—almost anything.