The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set (155 page)

She looked up at the distant shoreline and could see nothing but smoke rising into the air above a hood of trees.
 
She looked down at Alex and everything within her rejected what she saw.
 
She found a towel at the rear of the boat and placed it behind his head to make him comfortable.
 
When she touched his cheek with the back of her hand and bent down to kiss him a final time on the lips, she noticed that her whole body was trembling with grief and rage.
 
She wanted to go back and kill them all for what they’d done to him, but it would be suicide if she did so.

She stepped back into the driver’s seat and sat there.
 
She felt weightless, hopeless, useless.
 
She looked out at the ocean as the boat rocked and swayed.
 
Water lapped against the side of it.
 
It was soothing, almost hypnotic.
 
She gave into it.
 
Time passed.
 
The sun moved across the sky.
 
She only came around when something nudged against the boat.
 
Pushed it.
 
She looked around her as something whipped about in the water, startling her into focus.
 
She looked down at the water and saw that it was boiling.
 
Dozens of sharks were teaming around the boat, probably drawn by Alex’s blood, which likely was leaking into the water.

She had to collect herself.
 
She needed to save herself.
 
He’d be furious with her if she didn’t do so.

Think.

The family she knew within the inlet could help her.
 
Contacts in the States could send her a new passport.
 
To leave here, she’d need to change her identity, but those matters could be worked out abroad.
 

When her passport came, so would supplies to make her look like her new photo.
 
She’d been in this situation before, but never quite like this.
 
Never in love.
 
She wanted to scream into the sun, but instinct kept her silent.
 
She couldn’t give away her location.
 
She’d be damned if they killed each of them.

She started the boat again and, with Alex at her back, she crept around the inlet, her heart turning to ice as she moved forward through the deep.
 
A feast of sharks slapped their tails against the boat, but she ignored them and kept her eyes on the horizon.
 
Help was ahead.
 
Small huts were behind the swaying palms.
 
She’d seek out her friends and then she’d seek out her enemies.

She’d have her revenge.

They’d pay for what they did.

*
 
*
 
*

In the month following the incident at The Four Seasons, Leana Redman remained in her Park Avenue penthouse, unwilling to leave until they caught the people responsible for killing Jean-George Laurent and for potentially trying to kill her.

People called, including her mother and half-brother, Michael, but in spite of the news coverage that had blanketed the city for so long as investigators tried to learn who the murderer was, there was not one call from her father.

She tried to tell herself that she wasn’t surprised or disappointed, but she was just lying to herself.
 
Her mother told her that he’d never change, which was the truth.
 
He was expecting her to call him, but she wouldn’t.
 
More than ever, she was beginning to care less and less about him.
 
She knew it was unhealthy for her to spend much more time wondering why he was the way he was.
 
He didn’t care for her.
 
As difficult as it was, she needed to accept that.

One morning after many late-night discussions with Mario, much of which involved the security he wanted to have in place for her when she did emerge, she decided she couldn’t stay like this forever.
 
At the very least, she owed it to Harold to pick herself up and move forward with her dreams.
 
Not following them was exactly what he didn’t want.
 
He had entrusted her with his money for a specific reason and that reason wasn’t just to succeed, but to take on her father and succeed.

For herself and for Harold, she needed to see it through.

On some level, the better part of her life always had been at risk, whether because of the drugs she nearly overdosed on in her youth or because she was saddled with her father’s enemies now as an adult.
 
She needed to pick herself up, go to the hotel and get back to work.
 
Three weeks ago they started to refurbish it.
 
She needed to be there and be part of it.
 
She needed to oversee the work that was being done and offer her input.
 
This was her baby and she had to attend to it.

And so she did.

After a shower and changing into a pair of jeans and a sweater, she went downstairs into the kitchen, where Mario was preparing himself breakfast.
 
It was snowing outside and he had a fire going in the sitting room just off the kitchen.
 
He looked over at her when she came in.

“Good morning,” he said.

She put her arms around him and kissed him.
 
“Making anything good?”

“The kitchen might need to be gutted, but the stove works.
 
Here.
 
I made you an omelet.”
 
He slid it onto a white plate as she sat at the granite bar and smiled at him.

“You made that omelet for yourself.”

“So what?
 
I’ll make another.
 
Juice?”

She nodded.

“Coffee?”

“If I can have the entire pot.”

“You can have whatever you want.
 
What’s on your agenda today?”

She leaned back as he poured her coffee into her favorite mug and felt a groundswell of relief and gratitude when she said, “Something different.”

He put the omelet in front of her.
 
He was playing it cool and she loved him for it.
 
“What’s that?”

She picked up her fork and dug in.
 
“I think I need to get out,” she said.
 
“One more day here and I’ll likely have mold on me.”
 
She pointed down at her omelet.
 
“This, by the way, is delicious.”

“It’s the cheese.”

“Whatever it is, it’s fantastic.”

He cracked two eggs and started beating them in a bowl.
 
“So, what’ll you do?
 
I’m doing my soup kitchen runs today.
 
Want to join me?
 
I could use a hand unloading the food.”

Ever since she’d known him, the one thing he’d never given up was helping those less fortunate than himself.
 
He’d taught her plenty about that.
 
There wasn’t a soup kitchen in New York that hadn’t benefitted because of his efforts.
 
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to work,” she said.

He sprinkled cheese into the bowl with some peppers and onions and she could sense that he was suppressing a smile.
 
“Work, huh?
 
You ready for that?”

“I’m ready,” she said.
 
“In fact, I think I’m beyond ready.
 
I’ve been pretty self-indulgent lately.
 
It’s time for that to end.”
 

Just hearing the words spoken aloud thrilled her as much as it unnerved her.
 
She was no fool.
 
She knew what she was facing.
 
She knew the expectations and the burden that would come her way when the press found out she was back on site and working to turn her hotel into something unforgettable.
 
She also knew the comparisons that would be made between her and her father, and her and Celina.
 
Was this Redman as talented as that Redman?
 
Did Leana have what her sister had?
 
What her father had?
 

She didn’t know.
 
But in spite of all the pitfalls and all the things that could go wrong over the next year, there was one thing she couldn’t deny, and that was the rush of excitement and adrenalin that shot through her senses now and made her feel as alive as the first time she met and fell in love with Mario.
 

She could do this.
 

She could feel Harold in her heart, Mario at her back and even Celina, on some ethereal level, cheering her on.
 

It was time for her to make a name for herself—and not just by writing a check.

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Books by Christopher Smith

on Kindle

Fifth Avenue (Book One in the Five Avenue Series)

Running of the Bulls (Book Two in the Fifth Avenue Series)

From Manhattan with Love (Novella Three in the Fifth Avenue Series)

Bullied: The Complete Series

Thank you for purchasing and reading “THE FIFTH AVENUE SERIES BOX SET.”
 
I hope you enjoyed it.
 
Look for PARK AVENUE, the four in the series, in 2012.

Please contact me at
ChristopherSmithBooks
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Thank you again.

Christopher