Franco's Fortune (Redemption Book 2) (13 page)

Lynn led them to the door. Sheehan followed, then
signaled to them to stand back as he opened the door. He looked
out, then with a nod that all was okay, stepped outside.

As they filed onto the porch, Lynn grabbed Franco’s
hand. “Franco,” she said in a low voice filled with longing.

He placed his hand over hers. “Take care, Lynn.”

Once they were in the car and driving away, Franco
turned to Jo. “Hopefully, the South Philly address is a good lead.
Otherwise, we wasted the morning.” He grimaced. “I didn’t want to
see Lynn again, but I feel badly about what happened to her.”

Pity for Lynn swept over Jo. That was one mixed-up
woman. Saddled with an abusive husband, she appeared to take lovers
with ease, yet the woman still carried a torch for Franco and
believed herself to be in love with him based on three weeks of
dating. Sounded like a soap opera. Jo wasn’t a soap opera fan.

“I’ll call Morelli and give him the South Philly
address,” she said. “He should be able to get a search warrant.
DiGiacomo is wanted for the assault on Lynn and parole
violation.”

After her call to the detective, she tucked her
phone back into her purse and turned to Franco. “Let’s go over what
we have so far.”

“We did this already.”

“We need to do it again now that there’s a good
chance the cops will pick up DiGiacomo. We need to make sure we
don’t miss anything.” She edged forward in her seat and held up her
hand. “First, someone ransacks your house.” She began counting off
on her fingers. “They appeared to be looking for something.”

Franco nodded.

“Then they blow up your car, but call you right
before and ask for the money. But from what Lynn said, Sal wouldn’t
want money or anything from you other than to beat you to a pulp.
Next, someone in a black Escalade drives by your house as you’re
coming out and takes shots at you. DiGiacomo has a black Escalade.
You get more threatening phone calls, then the attack outside the
restaurant, and later the rock thrown through your window. And they
threaten me. Did I forget anything?”

“The note in my pocket after Susan’s
booksigning.”

“Ah, yes.” She shook her head. “DiGiacomo’s asking
for money doesn’t add up. I’m missing something here.”

Struggling to make sense of everything, Jo noticed
Harris glancing into the rearview mirror, a worried look on his
face. “Anything wrong?” she asked.

“We’ve got company,” he said in a terse voice.

Jo and Franco looked out the back window. “Where?
Who?” Franco asked.

“A couple of cars back. A black Escalade. Been
following us the last two miles. I need to take evasive
action.”

***

“B
uckle up,” Harris said,
as Jo opened her jacket and slid her gun from her holster. “And
hold on tight.”

They were in the left lane of the three-lane
highway. Harris increased his speed. The car purred along barely
making a sound. When the car in front wouldn’t move out of his way,
Harris veered to the next lane, cutting off an SUV. Harris then
swung the sedan back to the left lane to the tune of the SUV’s
blasting horn.

Jo twisted to look out the rear window. The black
Escalade, three cars behind in the middle lane sped up also,
swinging to the right lane to pass slower moving vehicles, before
shifting back to the middle.

Harris increased his speed again. Jo leaned as far
as her seatbelt allowed and glimpsed the speedometer. Eighty,
climbing to eighty-five. The smooth ride of the car belied their
speed. She glanced at Franco to find him watching her. Rather than
look frightened, as she’d expected, he smiled.

“You’re enjoying this,” she said.

“I’ve gone faster. I owned a Ferrari before I
wrecked it.” His smile faded. “I don’t enjoy someone trying to kill
me though.”

“Sonofabitch,” Harris snarled. “Damn SOB is sticking
with me. And damn these slow-moving jackasses in front of me.”

Jo gripped the edge of her seat as the Town Car
swerved to the middle lane and back again.

“There’s an exit up ahead,” Harris yelled.

“You’ll never get over in time,” Jo said. “There are
too many cars in the other two lanes.”

“Have faith in me, darlin’.”

Harris gave it gas. The car shot ahead, darted to
the middle lane, then back to the left. The exit loomed ahead,
coming closer and closer. At the last second, in one swift
maneuver, Harris managed to steer the car over three lanes of
traffic to the exit. Horns blared behind him. The car fishtailed
down the exit lane. Harris fought to steady the large vehicle. It
finally stabilized and Jo exhaled a relieved breath.

They sailed through the toll booth with their
electronic pass. Harris looked into the rearview mirror. “We lost
the SOB.” He pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall and eased
the car into a spot. With the car idling, he turned to them.

Franco unbuckled his belt and leaned forward,
resting his arm on the back of Harris’ seat. “You’re a hell of a
driver, man. A real pro. Good job.”

Harris shrugged. “I’ve had some practice.”

“I think my heart’s stuck somewhere in my throat,”
Jo said.

“C’mon, Jo. Have I ever let you down?” Harris
asked.

She chuckled. “No, but there’s always a first time.”
She released her belt. “Sheesh. When I get home, I’m trading in my
Corvette for a nice, staid sedan.”

Franco stared at her. Jo suppressed a grin at the
shocked look on his face.

“You have a Corvette?”

She shrugged. “It’s my one indulgence.”

“You never fail to surprise me, Fortune.” His
devilish and sexy smile set her blood to boiling. “Sure that’s your
only indulgence?” he asked in a husky voice. “I suspect you’ve got
a few more.”

Ignoring him, she turned to Harris. “What do you
think that was all about back there? Were they trying to force us
off the road? Kill us? Scare us?”

“Could have been any one of those things.”

“What do we do now?”

“Our friends in the Escalade will get off at the
next exit and backtrack. It’s what I’d do. Unless they just wanted
to scare us. I’ll use the GPS to get us away from the highway and
through the back roads. When it looks safe, we’ll get on the
turnpike again.”

Harris fiddled with the GPS while Jo and Franco
settled back into their seats.

“You sure know how to piss people off, Callahan.
DiGiacomo is one angry dude,” Jo said.

“I’ve pissed off lots of people in my lifetime,
sweetheart, but most of them haven’t wanted to kill me. I’ve even
pissed you off a few times. Do you want to kill me?” His eyes
darkened and his voice deepened. “I’d rather have you want to kiss
me.”

She shot a look toward the front. “Don’t be a jerk.”
He laughed as she slid to the end of the seat.

Trying to distract herself, she pulled her cell
phone from her purse. “I’ll call Morelli again and tell him what
happened. Maybe he can contact the New Jersey State Police to be on
the lookout for the Escalade now that we have a bead on where it
is.”

By the time they reached Philadelphia, it was late
afternoon. Harris dropped them off at Franco’s with a promise to be
back later. They were scheduled to attend a black-tie gallery
opening. Despite Jo’s protests, Franco remained adamant about
attending the swanky affair.

Jo dropped her purse in the entryway and faced
Franco, her arms folded across her chest. “We were almost run off
the road today and you still want to go out tonight.”

Franco’s eyes softened. “Listen, I know you have a
job to do and I appreciate that. It’ll be okay. Morelli’s getting a
search warrant for the house in South Philly. They could have
DiGiacomo in custody tonight. I’ll have you with me inside the
gallery and Harris will be waiting outside. There will be tight
security at the gallery too, with all those expensive paintings and
sculptures. If I lock myself in here, then that scum DiGiacomo has
won without firing a shot.”

“If he kills you, he’s won big time. And what about
that booksigning? Someone there was working for DiGiacomo.”

“Maybe, but he didn’t hurt me, did he?”

“But—”

He stepped closer and put his finger to her mouth.
“No buts.” His voice thickened. “We’ve got something more important
to take care of. Something I’ve wanted to do all day.” He bent
toward her.

As if her body had a will of its own, she lifted her
head.

His lips came down on hers, tender and soft. She
curled her arms around his neck and pressed closer to his muscular
frame. He backed her up against the wall. His tongue demanded entry
as one hand curved around her nape.

She uttered tiny sounds of pleasure, parted her
lips, and surrendered to his demand, reveling in the feel of his
mouth, his hands, and the warmth of his taut body. She drank in his
scent of soap mingled with the muskiness of male arousal and met
every hot, wet, glide of his tongue.

Awareness and need coalesced into a ball of molten
heat in her stomach. Her heart banged against her chest like a
trapped bird. She felt like a wild creature, caged her whole life.
She wanted to fly away from painful memories, from hurt. She wanted
the freedom to give herself completely and unconditionally to
Franco.

His hardness pressed against her belly. Moaning, she
held his face between her hands as she deepened the kiss and lost
herself in his taste and heat. Her body melted into his. When he
finally pulled away, a small cry escaped her. Breathing heavily, he
traced his finger lovingly, almost reverently, over the mole on her
cheek. “I want you, Jo. So much. I know you want me too. Say it.
Say you want me.”

She opened her mouth to tell him what he wanted to
hear, what her heart wanted. The fear and shame she’d lived with
most of her life rose up to thicken her throat and cut off erher
words. Franco wouldn’t want her when he knew the truth.

“I can’t,” she said on a ragged breath. She grabbed
his hand and pressed his palm against her mouth, kissing him,
wanting to taste him one last time. She released his hand and
lowered her gaze.

He gently touched her chin, forcing her to meet his
eyes. “You can’t deny you want me. Trust me, Jo. I know someone
hurt you.” His eyes softened. “I won’t hurt you. Ever. Do you
believe that?”

She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. Through
misted eyes, she nodded.

“Okay, then.” He bent and kissed her softly, a
butterfly touch of his lips.

The sweetness of it nearly broke her heart.

As he straightened, his blue gaze bore into hers.
“I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

<><><>

Jo had never worn red before. Everyone always told
her redheads shouldn’t wear red. Everyone was wrong. Wide-eyed, she
stared at herself in the three-way mirror in her bedroom, not quite
believing she, Jo Fortune, was the vision in scarlet silk staring
back at her.

The evening gown with the thigh-high slit and
low-cut bodice hugged her every curve. She extended her leg, bared
by the slit, and turned her foot, admiring the silver stiletto
sandals. Mitzi had insisted the gown was perfect for her. She
hadn’t believed it. Until now.

Jo raised her hair off her nape, then let it fall to
swish around her shoulders. In the soft lamplight, her shoulders,
bare except for the thin straps of the dress, gleamed with a
pearlescent sheen. Jo had never been a vain person, and wasn’t
about to start now. But, as she pirouetted in front of the mirror,
pride surged through her. She looked good—sexy and elegant. She
liked the feeling.

Tonight’s gallery opening benefited a children’s
charity and promised to be one of the highlights of the
Philadelphia spring season. The event at Rittenhouse Square, one of
the city’s wealthiest neighborhoods, would draw the area’s
glitterati. And, thanks to Franco and the beautiful clothes,
tonight she’d be one of the beautiful ones.

Guilt hit her in the gut and roused the butterflies
that had settled there. Tonight wasn’t about her. Tonight was about
keeping Franco alive.

She and Harris would have to be extra vigilant. The
police had gotten a warrant to search the South Philly house where
Lynn had told them DiGiacomo’s mistress lived. They’d found an
elderly woman, the mistress’s grandmother, living there alone.
There was no sign DiGiacomo had ever been there.

Thanks to Lynn, DiGiacomo knew they were on to
him.

And he was still on the loose.

She would protect Franco with the help of the police
and the gallery owner’s security force. Besides the priceless art
and sculpture, the guests would also be heavily guarded, or rather,
the jewels the women would be wearing would be. Including those she
herself wore.

She touched the ruby pendant that perfectly
complemented the silk gown. The pendant and matching drop earrings
were on loan from an upscale Philadelphia jeweler. Harris and
Franco had stopped to pick them up yesterday on their way home from
Franco’s office. She gave her reflection an ironic smile. The rich,
who could afford to buy expensive jewels, had jewels loaned to
them. No one would trust plain Jo Fortune with these exquisite gems
if the Callahan name wasn’t attached.

“Jo? Harris is here. Are you ready?”

Franco’s voice outside her door started a fresh
round of flutters in her stomach. “Coming.” She grabbed the silver
clutch from the bed and dropped her lipstick in. Her phone and
Glock nestled in the satin lining.

As she took a deep, calming breath, she inhaled the
flowery scent of the expensive perfume Franco had given her a few
days ago. She liked the clean fragrance of jasmine with a hint of
mint. She was beginning to enjoy the rarified lifestyle Franco
lived too much. If she didn’t get away from this place of wealth
and privilege, she might not be the person she’d worked so hard to
become. The thought scared her to death.