Page 13

C HAPTER 13

P ortia never returned to lunch. The rest of us finished eating in an awkward silence, until Gio declared it was time to clean up. I helped and then went to find Anthony when I couldn’t locate him inside any of the house’s limited square footage.

At the back of the house, a short chain-link fence outlined a modest backyard that edged up to a sweeping expanse of nothing. Beyond the patchy lawn and single shady tree was an open field of dirt and the same scrubby bushes we’d passed along the highway. It rolled out like a brown-and-green carpet, all the way to hills too far off to know if they might count as mountains.

Anthony sat in a plastic chair beneath the patio overhang; he was staring out into the abyss. I noted a few playthings in the yard, a tricycle fit for a toddler and a toy tractor, and wondered what situation would involve needing to stow a child at a safe house.

“Hey,” I said by way of greeting, and sat in the chair next to him. A small glass table with an empty ashtray and a potted cactus sat between us.

“Hey,” he said, sounding desolate. The air around him throbbed with pain.

“I’m sorry if federal protection was the wrong thing to suggest. I was only trying to help. I thought—”

“No, it was the right thing to suggest. I just don’t want her to do it.”

My heart twisted at the sorrow in his voice. He’d already lost his uncle, and now here he was facing down never seeing his lifelong friend again. One by one, the people he cared about were disappearing. I reached over the spiky, little cactus and placed my hand on his arm. “How are you doing with all this?”

He looked down at my hand, and where I thought he might shrug it off and quip about being fine, I was taken by pleasant surprise when he didn’t. The hard edge in his eyes melted away to a soft vulnerability. “Not great,” he said simply. “I feel like I failed.”

I aimed for a casual shrug. “I wouldn’t say you failed, necessarily. Things just didn’t go the way they were planned, but you’re likely still getting to the same ending, more or less.”

“Yeah, and the less part is I’m going to lose Portia too, if she goes through with this. Both her and Uncle Lou gone in one fell swoop.” He waved his hand like he was scooping up the air and throwing it aside.

I wasn’t sure there were words I could say to soothe that certain ache, but I tried anyway. “Anthony, if it weren’t for you, Portia might be a very different kind of gone at the hands of her husband already. The kind no one comes back from. So you’re saving her after all. It just doesn’t look the way you thought it would be.”

My argument seemed to resonate with him. He gave me a reluctant nod. “I guess you’re right. But I can’t say the same for Uncle Lou. It’s my fault he’s gone.”

That was, admittedly, a trickier topic to navigate. “Lou was an adult who made his own decisions. You didn’t coerce him into anything, Anthony. And like you told me: He cared about Portia too. Do you think he would want this to end any other way than with her safe?”

He looked sideways at me, and the tiniest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re good at this.”

“At what?”

“Pep talks.”

“Is that what this is?”

“Seems like it.”

“Huh. I was aiming more for comforting words for someone in need, but I guess that’s essentially the same thing.”

“Well, I appreciate it, whatever the intention.”

We both fell quiet and gazed out at the brittle yard. The landscape was rather beautiful in a parched, barren way.

“Tell me about your uncle,” I said. “What was he like? What’s your favorite memory of him?”

Anthony cast me a befuddled look. “Is this part of the pep talk?”

I shrugged. “Sure. I just have a hunch you haven’t gotten to talk to anyone about him in all this, and I’m here to listen. We’ve got nothing but time and desert views.” I spread my hands at the beige canvas before us.

“All right. Uncle Lou was . . .” Anthony trailed off, pausing like he wasn’t sure what to say. A sheen suddenly glossed his eyes, and I thought for a moment I’d made a mistake in asking. But then his lips twisted up into a sly smile and he took on the guise of someone in on a very good secret. “Clever. He was very, very clever. And loyal, obviously. And had an odd, dark sense of humor, but I guess that comes with the territory.” He looked down at his lap and quietly laughed. The sound made my heart sing. “For example, he asked me to pick up his car once, and I kept hearing something rattling around in the trunk. I pulled over to check and it was a fake skeleton with a Happy Halloween sign tied around its neck. I nearly had a heart attack.”

I gasped and threw a hand over my mouth to cover my smile. “He did not do that to you.”

“Oh, but he did,” he said, still laughing. “He told me I was too serious a lot. ‘Lighten up, kid. Life’s not that bad.’” He put on a husky voice with a thick New York accent.

“I agree with your uncle on this sentiment. When was the last time you took a vacation?”

He went quiet long enough to make me tsk in dismay.

“If you have to think about your answer this hard, it’s been way too long.”

“Does last night in that motel count?”

“Definitely not. I’m talking, toes in the sand, cocktail in a coconut, under a palm tree, turned off your phone, and probably got sunburned because you fell asleep—that type of vacation.”

He shot me a grin. “Is that your ideal vacation?”

“Minus the sunburn, yes.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It would be. Especially if I had someone there to rub sunscreen on my back to prevent the sunburn.” The words slipped out, and I realized it sounded like I was inviting him.

A vision of him lying beside me in a pair of board shorts, chest glistening with salt water or sweat or both, it didn’t matter, hit me like a truck. How we got from fond family memories to beachside fantasies, I wasn’t sure, but I had to blink several times and shake my head to find my way back.

Based on the look on his face, he may have been envisioning the same thing.

“Tell me more about Lou,” I said for distraction, before I needed to be hosed down from getting carried away imagining a full tropical fantasy.

He sat back with a soft smile and then launched into another story.

I listened to him talk for over an hour. The anecdotes ranged from funny to frightening, from sometimes sad to heartwarming. The light in his eyes grew brighter with each one. It was the most animated I’d ever seen him, and the warmth in my chest expanded at a startling rate. Clearly, he was very fond of his uncle, and I was growing fonder of him by the minute.

Right as he finished a story about an A-list actress, whose reputation they’d salvaged after an unfortunate incident with an assistant involving a thrown latte, I heard the rattling of aluminum cans coming from around the side of the house. I turned to see Gio approaching with a trash bag slung over his shoulder. He’d put on sunglasses and a camo-colored hat.

“Hey, Professor. Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

“No,” I said, and noticed he had one holstered at his hip.

“Do you want to learn?”

“Not particularly.”

He split a grin and dropped the trash bag on the ground. “Come on, I’ll show you. It might come in handy.” He bent over to dig in the trash bag and pulled out several empty beer cans.

“I appreciate the offer, but I generally strive to avoid situations with firearms.”

“Sure. We all do. But you never know. It’s best to be prepared. Stay here.” He trotted off toward the fence, which was a good thirty yards away. I watched, knowing where this was going, as he carefully balanced five beer cans on top of it, and I thought about how I couldn’t hit a single one of them with a cannon, let alone a handgun.

Gio came trotting back; there was a smile on his face. “Basic target practice.” He pulled the gun from his hip. “Now, your stance is more important than you think. This isn’t like the movies where you can do stuff one-handed and hanging out of a car.”

“I guess I missed the part where I agreed to this lesson,” I said flatly.

My sour mood did not deter him. He waved me over. “Come here. I’ll show you proper technique.”

I cast Anthony a look, and he responded with an encouraging shrug. “Badass, remember?”

I shyly blushed and stood from my chair. “If we must.”

“We must,” Gio said. “Now . . . feet like this, arms like this.” He demonstrated and aimed the gun at the cans when I walked over. “You want to be locked, but relaxed enough to absorb the kickback.” He pulled the trigger, and one of the cans leapt off the fence and split into a crumple of jagged aluminum.

I flinched at the deafening sound and listened to it flood out into the empty field in search of something to echo off.

“Just like that,” Gio said. “Your turn.” He held the gun in one hand and pivoted to me with his other arm open in a welcoming gesture.

“You’re the same as Anthony, assuming I can simply do things like you can. I work at a desk all day; I don’t climb walls and shoot things.”

“Never underestimate yourself. Come on.” He swung his arm around me and put the gun in my hand. Then he kicked my feet farther apart with his toe. “Little bend in the knees, shoulders square, hands like this. You got it! Now take a breath and—”

I mentally muttered the word badass as I pulled the trigger and automatically closed my eyes. I didn’t hear the plink of a beer can being obliterated—only the bang of the gun and its vibrations rattling every bone and nerve in my body.

“Not bad!” Gio encouraged. “You might have better luck if you keep your eyes open though. Try it again.”

I shook the sting from my arms and aimed again. The second shot skipped off the dirt past the fence.

“Better,” Gio said. “Try lowering your arms a little.” He reached over and gently bent my elbows and used his hand to aim the gun half a tick down. He was remarkably calm and confident, considering we were handling a deadly weapon. My heart was hammering. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

I took a breath and mentally ran through his list. Feet like this, arms like this, eyes open, breathe.

The third shot hit a can—not the one I was aiming for, but still—and I gasped in surprise.

“There you go!” Gio said, and clapped.

“Nice shot, Penny!” Anthony called from behind me.

I turned my head to see a small grin playing at his lips. It did feel like an accomplishment, though not one I was terribly proud of. I weakly smiled back at him.

We kept shooting, until Gio had to reload the gun several times, and a small graveyard of beer cans littered the fence line. I didn’t feel cool and powerful, a sexy gunslinger. I was trembling the whole time and hated every second of it. But I did feel more confident. If things ever went sideways and I needed to shoot something, I would at least know how to.

“Not bad,” Anthony said to me once the gun was safely out of my hands. His eyes softly crinkled at the corners. The day had moved into early evening. The soaring sky was a dusty shade of blue above us. Shadows ran long.

“Thank you, though I hope I never need to be even remotely adequate at that skill.”

“Too bad, Professor, because you’re already there,” Gio said as he gathered the trash bag. His eyes snagged on something at the corner of the house, and we all turned to see Portia, who had emerged from inside.

Anthony immediately stiffened at my side. Even from a distance, I could see the decisive look on her face. Something had shifted over the past few hours.

She casually approached with her hands in her pockets and scuffed her shoe at the dirt. “I’ve made a decision.”

“Portia, no—” Anthony started, but she stopped him with a raised hand.

“I want to, Tony. It’s the only way out. For all of us.”

“But what if it doesn’t work? What if they arrest you too?”

She nodded and swallowed, steeling herself. “That’s a risk, yes, but I’m willing to take it. Because what’s the alternative? We figure out how to get me to Sweden and I look over my shoulder for the rest of my life? And you do too?” Her voice strained with fear. She took a calming breath and came closer. “Look, this plan was always a moonshot. Getting away from Connor on our terms was a one-in-a-million chance. We tried, okay? But it’s time to stop. I don’t want to keep making it worse. I mean, look at you, all bruised and broken.” She turned to gesture at me. “And poor Penny was kidnapped. And Gio has been stuck in this house for days, playing Texas Hold’em for Monopoly money with me!” Gio shrugged, like it was no bother. She turned back to Anthony with a pleading look. “Please, Tony. It’s time to put an end to this.”

He looked at her with a sheen glossing his eyes. His throat bobbed with a thick swallow. I felt like I was intruding on a private moment. “But, Portia, I promised Jake I’d watch out for you.”

“I know you did, Tony. And you have. My whole life. For once, let me protect you. ”

Anthony held his face in his hands with a sigh. I thought he was going to flat-out refuse, and we’d be stuck as fugitives forever, but he didn’t. Not yet at least. “How would this even work? Do you have someone at the FBI to contact?”

My heart lifted. For the first time since getting knocked out in Lou’s back office, going home felt like a real possibility and not a distant hope.

Portia nodded. “Yes. The agent who came to the hotel that night in New York. Agent Ives. He gave me a card, and I kept it before Connor showed up and . . .” Her voice trailed off.

I noticed Anthony’s fist clench. Neither of them wanted to relive it.

“Okay,” he said. “So—hypothetically, if we’re even going to do this—we call Ives and tell him you’re ready to talk. We’d need to meet him somewhere so he can take you into protective custody, and we can’t do it here. I don’t want this place on anyone’s radar.”

“Well, I can’t go back home,” Portia said. “Everyone is looking for me there.”

“Everyone is looking for you everywhere, Portia,” Anthony said. “We need someplace off the grid.”

We all silently stared at one another, as if one of us might have a list of obscure but convenient locations for clandestine meetups. I was honestly a little surprised Anthony didn’t.

“What about the opposite?” Gio suggested. “Kind of a hiding-in-plain-sight situation.”

I thought back to what Gio had said about Portia getting recognized in the small town where she’d been hiding out. Perhaps a place with too many faces to keep track of was the way to go. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. A crowd could be helpful here. Good suggestion, Gio.”

“Thank you, Professor. And also, I assume we want this to happen quick, and this Fed is going to have to fly in if he’s in New York. If we’re in the middle of nowhere, how’s he going to get to us easily? And more important, how’s he going to get Portia out easily, assuming it all goes well?”

“Another solid point,” I said.

We all looked at Anthony, since he was the most likely to dissent.

“What do you think, Tony?” Portia eventually asked.

Anthony studied the desert view before looking at Portia. A silent conversation passed between them, and then he turned his gaze over to me. We had our own tête-à-tête, which managed to encompass everything from arguing over candlesticks to hiding in a closet, from escaping a basement to kissing in a roadside motel, from fleeing an attacker to standing here, staring at each other with our future—in many senses—hanging in the balance.

He looked back to Portia. “Are you sure you want to do this? It can’t be undone, and it might not even work the way we’re hoping. You could end up in prison.”

She reached out and squeezed his hand. Her eyes had glossed with moisture, and she nodded. “Nothing could be worse than the prison of being with Connor. Let me set us all free, whatever it takes.”

Anthony held her gaze for a long moment before letting out a big breath. “Okay.”

Portia sagged with an exhale, and I felt it in my bones.

Gio clapped his hands together with a grin.

“Why are you smiling?” Anthony asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? There’s only one place nearby that fits all our criteria.” He looked at us expectantly.

I knew the answer, but didn’t want to steal his thunder.

“It all ends in Vegas, baby.”

We discussed the rest of the plan while we had dinner. Anthony knew a guy—of course he did—who could get us a suite at the Venetian for free. Apparently, Lou had cleaned up a particularly messy weekend in Vegas on this guy’s behalf, so in return, he had a standing reservation at one of the glittering towers on the Strip. We counted the win because it saved us from leaving a paper trail with our names or any form of payment. Anthony also called Mr. Mitchell, the lawyer who’d been there the day of the estate sale. If things went south with Portia’s confession and they wanted to arrest her, we needed someone on standby to help.

Portia had kept the card from Agent Ives. She called him and told him she was ready to talk and she’d meet him tomorrow in that suite at the Venetian. He confirmed he’d be there by 5:00 p.m.

It felt remarkably simple, but federal agents apparently made quick accommodations when a witness was ready to talk.

Later that night, Portia and I split her bed and Anthony took the couch. It was the only option, seeing there was no way Anthony and Gio could share a bed unless they spooned all night, and the couch wasn’t exactly big enough for two people either.

I lay on my side, facing away from her, and thought about what was going to happen tomorrow. I didn’t have much part to play, other than passenger. Anthony wanted to stick around long enough to make sure Portia was safe and, hopefully, not under arrest, and then we were headed home. Gio was tagging along to Las Vegas as an extra escort. Even so, the thought of it had my nerves jumping.

“Penny,” Portia whispered in the dark. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” I said quietly. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one unable to sleep.

“I want to say thank you. For helping us come up with a plan. If you hadn’t said what you said, I don’t think I would have had the courage to stand up to my husband.”

I rolled over onto my back to face the ceiling. I didn’t think I’d said that much, but my words apparently resonated. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re right. I’ve spent so long afraid of him that he won’t see this coming.” She paused for a long moment. “And I don’t want you to think I’m a bad person. For not turning him in sooner. It’s just . . . I couldn’t.”

I blinked in the dark, unsure what to say. The situation was surely complicated, and seeing she feared for her life, I wasn’t about to blame her for keeping her mouth shut for her own safety. But still, a niggling curiosity, like an itch in need of scratching, squirmed inside my brain. Connor Slate was a kingpin of my industry, and here I was whispering secrets in the dark with his wife.

Temptation got the best of me. I sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.

“How long have you known?”

She rolled over to face me. “Years,” she said with an exhale, which sounded miles deep. And then a dam broke loose. “ I never did anything illegal, unless you count knowingly spending money that had been embezzled. But I couldn’t even find out if that was a crime, because Connor would know I asked someone for legal advice. Everyone is in his pocket. He’s been siphoning from his own company for years. You know how I found out? After one of those foundation events I was forced to attend, like the one where you and I met. I’d hosted a group of twenty for a private luncheon in the city, and the foundation’s credit card got declined when I went to pay.”

I could see the haunted look in her eyes. Surely, someone in her tax bracket would find a declined credit card distressing, but her face said the embarrassing inconvenience was only the tip of a very large iceberg. “Obviously, I was mortified and didn’t want to make a scene, so I used a personal card to pay for lunch. Knowing Connor would get an alert, since he monitors all my personal spending, I texted him a heads-up the corporate card got declined. He never responded. That night when I brought it up, he told me he must have forgotten to pay that bill and said not to worry about it.” She blinked a few times and held my gaze with a gritty stare. “Connor doesn’t forget anything, Penny. And we have accountants, who handle our money anyway. I knew something was off, and after some very careful digging, and because I honestly didn’t want to be embarrassed by having the card declined again, I discovered the foundation account used to pay that card’s bill was empty. All the money had been moved and redistributed into our personal accounts. And it wasn’t just the foundation—other corporate accounts I have access to had been skimmed.”

When she stopped talking, I noticed I’d stopped breathing. “What did you do?” I whispered.

“Nothing,” she said with a single shake of her head. “I couldn’t confront him about it because he would deny it and then punish me for even questioning him.” Her words were matter of fact, but I heard the tremor in them. The fear she worked so hard to mask and the sting of memory from times she’d crossed her husband’s lines. “So I pretended I didn’t know. The guilt ate me up inside, but I had to keep up appearances. I couldn’t stop spending money like normal because he would wonder why. But I wasn’t the only one who noticed something was off. The FBI started coming around, and when they cornered me that night in New York after that deal went bust, I was terrified, but part of me thought, ‘ Finally a way out.’ I honestly think I might have confessed everything if Connor hadn’t come home. What a difference five more minutes would have made.” She paused and took a deep breath. “And now here we are instead.”

Here we are, indeed, I thought. My curiosity over the what and how was satisfied. I partly wished I’d never asked. Anthony had told me Connor was committing large-scale fraud and left it at that. Portia hadn’t gone into too much more detail, but I knew a secret about one of the most powerful—and apparently dangerous—men in the world. A secret he was willing to kill over.

“How do you think he found out you were trying to leave?” I asked.

She sighed a weary breath. “I think he figured it out through Tyler, my bodyguard. When we told him the plan, he swore to me he’d help me finally find a way out. He’d always done as much as he could to protect me from Connor, but knew it was never enough. I think Connor got to him about the plan, and he refused to talk, so they killed him. Tony isn’t convinced, but I know he’d never betray me like that. I trusted him.”

I mulled her words and thought back to the conversation Anthony and I had had in the car. Portia and I were on the same page about Tyler’s loyalty, but I wondered if we’d ever know the truth.

I pulled the sheet up tighter around me. “I’m sorry he’s gone.”

“Thanks. Me too,” she said solemnly. She paused, and I listened to the sounds of the quiet house. Gio snored from the next room over. I imagined Anthony out on the couch, sleeping with a gun.

“I’m really sorry you got dragged into this, Penny,” Portia broke the silence. “But I’m glad—” She stopped short and took a breath. It sounded like she was trying to ward off tears. “I’m really glad Tony met you.” The sheets rustled as she moved. “He’s been trying to save me my whole life. I know this isn’t what we were planning, and I’m going to miss him terribly if this all goes well, but this is the only way to save us all.”

The sudden emotion in her voice caught me. “Are you scared?”

She blinked, and I saw the whites of her eyes shining. The look of determination on her face said she’d thought through all the consequences of her decision. “Yes and no. I mean, I’d rather not end up in prison, but assuming things go well, and I don’t end up there, I’m not scared. I’ve reinvented myself out of necessity before; I can do it again.” Her mouth twitched up at one corner. “I’m sad I wouldn’t get to see Tony anymore though. But I’m glad he has you now. Well, that’s awfully presumptuous of me; you’ve only just met. But still. I’m glad.” She shyly blushed and smoothed her hair.

I found it oddly satisfying to have her blessing. It was true I’d only just met Anthony, but it was also true Portia was one of the most important people—one of the only people—in his life. And like the rest of them, she was about to disappear, one way or another. Knowing she was happy for him before she went made me smile.

“I’m glad too.”

She wiped her eyes with an inelegant sniffle, which made her seem impossibly human. “If this works, just don’t let him come looking for me, okay? That will ruin everything.”

I quietly laughed. “I’ll do my best, but no promises. And I’m really sorry, Portia. That it has come to this.” I couldn’t imagine being in a situation so dire that going to prison or completely disappearing was plan A.

She softly shook her head, rustling her hair against her pillow. “I can’t change the decisions that got me here. All I can do is move forward. I want my freedom back, if I can have it. You know what freedom feels like to me?”

“What?”

“A sunny day at the beach. The wind in my hair, sand under my toes. Nothing but the water in front of me, endless. And no one watching me. When I can have a sunny day at the beach again, free and all to myself, I’ll know I’m okay.”

I softly smiled to myself and wondered if we’d ever cross paths on a beach someday. “That sounds nice.”

“It will be.” She adjusted her pillow with a sigh. “And I want you to know that no matter what happens tomorrow, everything will be all right. Good night, Penny.”

“Good night, Portia.” I clicked off the light and plunged us back into darkness. The soft sound of her voice carried both a resolve and an optimism that helped me close my eyes and fall asleep.