Franco's Fortune (Redemption Book 2) (6 page)

“Don’t do that.” She slipped her hand from his and
gathered her purse from the table. “While you pay the bill, I’ll
call Harris and tell him we’re ready.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shaking her head at his words and his teasing grin,
she pulled out her phone and punched in Harris’ number.

A short while later, Jo’s wrap slipped from her
shoulders as she and Franco stood just inside the restaurant
waiting for Harris. With a gentle touch, Franco adjusted her wrap.
His fingers slid over her nape in a soft caress that sent delicious
heat over her nerve endings to settle in a knot of desire low in
her belly. She stepped away from him and the enticement he
offered.

“I wonder what’s keeping Harris. He should have been
here by now,” she said. “He was only parked around the corner.”

“Probably got caught at a light.” Franco took a deep
breath. “It’s a nice night. After that meal, I could use a walk.
Why don’t we go down the street? He’ll see us.”

“Nope. We’re staying right here.”

“Don’t be a wuss. I thought you were tough.”

“Nice try. Insults don’t work with me. We don’t move
until we see the car. It’s awfully quiet out there.” Jo opened her
bag and slid out her gun, discreetly holding it at her side. “Stay
here.” She stepped outside and peeked from the canopy covering the
doorway. Elegant shops featuring beautiful clothes and upscale home
furnishings lined the trendy street, deserted now. As quaint as the
street was, she would have felt more secure if the restaurant was
on one of the city’s main thoroughfares.

A black Town Car slid down the street. Jo breathed a
sigh of relief and waited for Harris to pull up in front of the
restaurant. She signaled to Franco, gazing from behind the glass
doors, to stay where he was. Once she knew everything was safe, he
could come out.

Gun drawn as a precaution, she scanned the street as
she walked toward the car. But instead of Harris, two men, large,
brawny, their faces shaded by caps, jumped out of the vehicle. They
halted when they saw her and lifted their own guns.

“Get back in the car and drive away and no one gets
hurt,” she said in a steely voice.

“Your one gun can’t stop our two. How about you and
Callahan get into the car and we all drive away nice,” the larger
of the two guys growled.

“Not happening,” Jo said.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Franco said, coming up
behind her.

She had no more time to think as the first guy
rushed her. Adrenaline pumping, Jo kicked off her high heels. She
jumped and twisted, kicking the gun out of his hand, then slammed
her own gun against his head.

“What the—?” Bleeding, he grabbed for her.

“Leave her—” Franco’s words were cut short when thug
number two hit him on the head with the butt of his gun. He caught
Franco under the arms as he went down, preparing to push Franco
into the car.

The thug closest to Jo widened his eyes as her right
foot connected with his groin. When he doubled over, she whacked
him on the head again with her gun.

Franco’s thug let him drop to the ground and turned
his gun on Jo. Screams came from up the street, then the sounds of
running feet slapping the sidewalk. Apparently changing his mind,
Franco’s thug bolted for the car. Hers, still holding his crotch,
yanked open the back door and dove in. With the door still swinging
wide, the car careened down the street.

Franco had regained his feet but reeled slightly,
blood dripping from a cut over his eyebrow. Jo grabbed his arm,
steadying him. Their Town Car sped toward them. When the car came
to a screeching stop, Harris jumped out.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Someone put up construction
barriers that closed off the streets and I couldn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Jo said, interrupting him. “Later. Help
me get Franco into the car.”

A small group of bystanders had gathered nearby. “I
called 9-1-1,” a man said.

Harris looked up from settling Franco into the
backseat. “Thanks, but we can’t stick around. We need to get our
friend to the hospital.”

Jo grabbed her shoes, wrap and purse where she’d
dropped them on the sidewalk and slid in beside Franco. Harris
slammed the door shut, then got into the driver’s seat and sped
away.

“No hospital,” Franco said, rubbing his temple.
Blood came off on his fingers.

“Yes, hospital,” Jo said. “And don’t ever disobey my
orders again. I told you to stay inside.”

He reached out and touched her face. She felt his
warm blood on her skin.

“You were magnificent,” he said just before he lost
consciousness.

Jo settled him against her, cradling his head under
her chin.

“Hurry,” she said to Harris.

***

T
he sound of shattering
glass followed by the loud blare of the security alarm jerked Jo’s
attention from her laptop on the kitchen’s center island. As she
grabbed her gun from the counter and sprang to her feet, the stool
she’d been sitting on clattered onto the tile floor. She whirled
and scanned the kitchen. Everything intact. The digital clock on
the microwave said three a.m.

Gun in hand, she raced into the dining room,
adjacent to the kitchen, and slid to a halt. Shards of glass
sprinkled over the Oriental carpet. A large rock, the size of a
baseball, lay among the glass shards. The gaping hole in one of the
small multi-panes stared at her like a one-eyed monster.

She ran back into the kitchen, stood to one side of
the back door and peered out the window. After a quick perusal of
the small backyard, she flipped the latch, flung the door open and
hurried outside. Moonlight illuminated the flagstone patio with its
wrought iron chairs and table and the tiny garden beyond with its
brick path winding through rose bushes to a high wooden fence. The
elaborate iron gate to the alleyway was swinging open. Her sneakers
slapped the brick as she sprinted to the gate. She knew before she
got to the alleyway that whoever had thrown that rock was long
gone.

“Jo!”

She turned at Franco’s voice. Outlined in the dim
light from the kitchen, he stood in the doorway, clad only in
tapered boxers.

“Get back in the house,” she yelled, dashing toward
him. “Are you crazy?”

“Are you okay?” he asked, rushing out to meet
her.

“Don’t worry about me.” She grabbed his arm and
pulled him into the house, then slammed the door and locked it.

Breathing heavily, adrenaline rushing through her
veins, she scanned his nearly naked self. “You walked over glass in
your bare feet?”

“I’m fine. Are you okay? You’re the one who’s crazy
running out there like that. Whoever did this could still be
outside.”

“It’s my job to protect you. I’m not afraid and I
have my gun.”

The blaring alarm suddenly ceased. The silence was
almost eerie, their harsh breathing the only sounds in the room.
The alarm must have reset itself. “Did the security company
call?”

He nodded. “They’re sending the police.” He pointed
into the dining room. “Was that a rock I saw lying on the
carpet?”

“Yup. What is this, the Middle Ages? Who does
that?”

“Some very determined people,” he said quietly.

“You should be in bed.” Her gaze went to the
butterfly bandage above his right eyebrow. “You only got back from
the ER two hours ago.”

“I’m fine. What are you doing up at this hour?”

“It’s called round-the-clock protection. Harris
relieves me at five.”

“I don’t like it. I have the alarm now. There’s no
reason for you to stay up.”

“I don’t tell you how to do your job so don’t tell
me how to do mine. Now get dressed before the police get here.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, she
couldn’t help but notice how his bare chest looked like
marble—sculpted, muscled, and beautiful. His athletic legs were
long and perfectly formed, the muscles defined. “I mean it. Get
dressed. Now. And put some shoes on.”

His eyes turned to steel. Franco Callahan clearly
didn’t like taking orders from anyone. With his mouth set in a grim
line, he turned and headed out of the room.

<><><>

Detective Dave Morelli of the Philadelphia police
snapped his notebook closed and slipped it into the inside pocket
of his suit jacket, then stood. “We’ve got all we need. We’ll get
the note and the rock to the lab. Hopefully, they’ll be able to
pull off some prints.”

Wearing latex gloves, he unfurled the piece of paper
and looked down at it. “This is some serious business,” he said,
then read the note aloud again. “
This is your last warning. Give
us the money or the girlfriend dies.
” The detective slipped the
note into the plastic bag one of the uniformed cops handed him,
then pulled off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket.

“Thanks for everything, Detective.” Franco stood,
too, and the men shook hands.

Jo pushed up from the sectional and thrust out her
hand to the detective. He shook it, then nodded. “Glad Mr. Callahan
has protection. You’ll let us know if anything else happens?”

“Sure will, Detective,” she said. “I’ll fill in my
boss and the other bodyguard. And you’ll keep us informed if you
learn anything?”

“I will.” With a nod, Morelli headed toward the door
with the two uniformed officers. He and the cops slipped out the
door and Franco locked it after them, then reset the alarm.

He turned to Jo and rubbed a hand over his hair,
still mussed from sleep. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and with
dark stubble on his face and the small butterfly bandage, he was
the sexiest guy she’d ever known. She looked down at the floor. She
had to get a grip. The man could make her forget everything she’d
learned about control, about taking charge of a situation.

He moved closer until inches separated them. He
didn’t touch her. “It’s almost five. Harris will be here soon. Why
don’t you go up to bed, get some rest?”

Clearing her throat, she stepped back. “You’re the
one who needs rest. Remember getting cracked on the head? The pain,
the ER?”

“I’m too wound up to sleep. Do you want coffee, tea,
warm milk, anything?”

She shook her head. “Franco, you really need to
rest. And we need to call someone to fix the window. Then we get
that kitchen door changed today. The back of your house is too
exposed with that alleyway.”

He winced and touched his injured temple. “I’ve
agreed to change the door, but this time they didn’t use the door,
did they?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try it
again.”

Releasing a resigned sigh, he said, “I’ll call the
window people when I get to work. The window is a historic design
and there’s only one company in Philadelphia that can duplicate the
glass.”

“The doctor said you need to stay in bed for a day.
You’re not going anywhere.”

“I’ve just got a headache. I’ll be fine. I have a
company to run and the gun didn’t do any real damage. Simmer down,
Fortune.”

“You could have been killed last night.” The thought
shook her. She slid her gaze away, hiding her feelings from him,
and ran a hand over her denim-clad thigh. The feel of the rough
fabric calmed her. “You should have stayed in the restaurant like I
told you.”

“Jo, look at me.”

When she turned back to him, he framed her face
between his strong hands. “You’re right. I should have listened to
you. But I couldn’t let you face those thugs alone.” He held her
gaze. His lips quirked. “I know I’m a stubborn ass at times.”

She laughed, releasing the tension tightening every
one of her muscles. “Try all the time.”

His eyes gleamed with mischief. “Then you’ll have to
work harder to keep me in line. And I promise to fight you every
step of the way.”

He rubbed his thumbs over her cheekbones, then
stopped as if he realized what he was doing. Their eyes met and she
held her breath as he bent forward and brushed his lips gently over
hers. She tensed, holding herself rigid, but he continued to kiss
her, sweetly, with tenderness, until she began to melt around the
edges. With a low moan, she returned his kiss. Her resistance
dissolved like mist under a hot sun and she opened to him. Their
tongues danced for several charged minutes, then Franco pulled
away.

Her eyes snapped open.

His eyes, blue velvet, looked deeply into hers.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Dazed, she touched her lips, but no words would
come.

He gathered her to him, tucking her head under his
chin.

Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his
waist. She felt serene for the first time in a very long while. She
could stand on her own, always had. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to
allow herself to be comforted, if only for a little while. She
should be soothing Franco. He’d been hurt last night. He could have
been killed. Yet, he was the one comforting her. She snuggled
closer. The man had unexpected depths. The playboy she could
handle. This new Franco held more danger.

A heavy dose of reality intruded and she pulled
away. A glance at the wall clock told her it was five o’clock. The
world was waking up.

“You can’t go to work today,” she said. “Rest. We’ll
take care of the window and the new door.”

“I have to go to work. I’ve got a big meeting with
an important client. My staff’s put in a lot of work. I can’t let
them down.” He headed toward the foyer, then turned around,
frowning. He crossed the space between them.

“I had something I wanted to say.” He touched her
lips with his fingers. “But you distracted me.”

“What?” Anxiety and the heat of his touch sent
hot-cold shivers up her arms.

“That note made up my mind about something.” He took
one of her hands in his. “Those creeps made a direct threat against
you. It’s no longer just about me. They’ve got it in for you
too.”