Ride to Restoration (Ride Series Book 2) (20 page)

“
There
’
s more where that came from if I ever hear of it making it
to YouTube. Our eyes only, big boy. You got that?
”

“
I got it ... ah hem ... you can let go now, Vic ... toria.
I got it.
”

Boys. ... hell-o! I
’
m in a truck
full of juvenile delinquents. Lucky me!

Chapter
36

D
inner
was served late. Debra didn
’
t seem to mind. Such is the life of an Outfitter
’
s wife. Grilled salmon,
fried potatoes and green beans was our fare for the evening. The wine we shared
was a sparkling Moscato, followed by her famous Saskatoon berry pie topped with
a dollop of vanilla ice cream.
“
I can
’
t thank you both enough for riding through here on your way
home. Greg and I want you to know you
’
re welcome anytime, not just
hunting season.
”

“
Thanks, Debra. It
’
s good to know I still have
a few friends left. Your hospitality has been over the top this trip. Vic, I
’
m sure it
’
s because of you. Usually, I
’
m left to fend for myself
after a long day
’
s hunt, sitting around with a bunch of old farts, sipping
whisky, drinking beer and telling lies.
”

“
They weren
’
t all lies,
”
Greg
interjected, rising from the table.
“
What time are you heading
out in the morning? Debra will need to know to have breakfast ready.
”

Looking
at my not so early riser sitting beside me, my mind said seven, but her mind
meld purred eight.
“
Eight should be early enough.
”
Judging by Vic
’
s approving nod, Mr. Spock
’
s talents had struck again.

We
crashed. Sleep came quickly. My morning came quicker as I bolted from the bed
somewhere around 3 AM in a cold sweat, realizing I was supposed to call
Giovanni on Italy time. Six hours ahead or is it six hours behind? It
’
s too early to think, that
’
s for sure. I eased quietly
from the bed and crept out the door to keep my rumblings from disturbing Vic.
Rummaging through my bag, I found last weeks phone as well as his stored
number. I pressed send. On the fifth ring, Gio answered groggily,
“
Ciao.
”

“
Gio, D. Did I wake you? I
’
m sorry. What time is it in
Italy?
”

“
Cuze?
…
D ... that
you?
”

“
Yes, sir. I
’
ll call you back later if you
’
ll tell me a good time.
”

“
Good
now. Me sleep. Now not.
”

“
My bad. Six hour time difference or seven. I can
’
t remember. What time is it
there?
”

“
Phone
say five one five.
”

“
Where are you, pal? That
’
s eastern time.
”

“
Me
and Mile in Tampa, Candice, too.
”

“
What
’
s going on? Why are you not in Italy? How did you find
Major? Has something happened to Candi?
”
I hit him with rapid-fire question after question,
wondering if I was prepared for the answers that would follow.

“
You
speak, slow ... D. Mile, me OK, Candice not. We stay. You come; we go home. She
find dog, find you. How you say ... my advice? When you come? Candice not
happy; she sad. You come now.
”

“
Gio, it
’
s not that easy. Candi chose Joseph over me when she got on
the plane. Candi chose Joseph when she screwed his brains out sometime in the
last few days. Why would she now choose me?
”

“
She
protect you and lady friend lawyer, Vic-toria. She good girl. You see, she
explain. She no screw Joseph. You wrong. She not like him now. She like you.
”

“
I could protect us, I was protecting us. She blew it.
”

“
She
make right. You see, D. Joseph bad; you good. When you come; you see.
”

“
I want to talk to her. I can
’
t promise anything. I
’
ll call back at eight.
Answer your phone, OK?
”

“
OK,
D. You see. I wake her.
”

“
Not now, pal. At eight, Gio. Thanks.
”
I hung up without saying good-bye.
Shame on me. Too much to process this early in the morning. I can see
Candi taking the ledgers to claim the reward, especially if it appeased Joseph.
Maybe even to protect me? Still, why would she screw him on film? Who does that
today?
Open ended questions that deserved a damn good explanation. I wanted
to believe Gio. I so wanted to believe Candi.
Is there a method to her madness? Damn you, woo-hoo ... Damn you!

Walking
the streets for the next two and a half hours was not my best idea to date. It
was friggin
’
cold
and dark. My only saving grace was the cloudless starry sky that shined down on
me. Even though it looked somewhat criminal in nature, me strolling through
town in the wee morning hours, it did provide me the solitude to lay out a plan
of action in my head if I chose to invade Florida and mount a rescue operation
of sorts.
Rescue operation? You
’
re dreaming, D. How long has
it been since you played soldier? How many years have passed since you had at
your beck and call, the power of the Tactical Air Command and the Special Ops
team you fondly referred to as family? Where are those guys now? How many made
lifers through their service to our country? Who can I still count on to mount
an operation to assist me in my quest? You are so getting ahead of yourself.
First things first. Talk to Candi, hear her side and then decide. How can you
rescue someone who may not want to be rescued? You are such a ... a ... PUTZ!

Chapter
37

Tampa Bay

S
trolling through
my neighborhood in the early morning hours to clear my head of distractions,
waifs of sulphur emitting from the neighbor’s lawn sprinklers permeated the
heavy and humid air. Even growing up here, my stomach still churns, each time I
breathe in that horrendous odor. Come to think of it, I never experienced this
problem in Chattanooga. I liked living in Tennessee.
Regardless of what
happens, maybe I should go back. Life was simpler there and drama free. I’ve
taken a month’s leave of absence from work. So I’ve got some time to think
about it.
First things first, beginning tomorrow, turn in the ledgers to
the Family, unlock the encryption codes to prove their authenticity and collect
the reward, before splitting it with Joseph.
Will that satisfy him? Will he
continue to drag me back into his life?
Too many questions, compounded by
very few answers.
Oh well
… I sighed before being rattled back into
reality as my phone vibrated, then chirped twice, signaling incoming text
messages from Marcy, no less.

Text 1: We’re good to go after next
Thursday, Candice. I’ve got work covered. Booked a flight on Southwest,
Thursday late. See you Friday.

Text 2: Any word from D?

I replied to both:

That’s great. Wish you
would allow me to send the plane. Will be great to spend time with you girl.
We’re going to have fun. LOL. Sadly, there’s been nothing from D. Thanks for
asking.

The rest of the morning I filled with catching up on the
news. The instant diamond gifted millionaires continued to make headlines
across CNN, MSN and FOX. So much for being discreet. Most of D
’
s recipients were quiet for
the most part. It was only a select few that couldn
’
t keep their mouths shut,
relishing in their 30 seconds of fame. The afternoon was a different story.

Gio
hobbled into the kitchen with Mile in tow, plopping down on the bar stool next
to me.
“
We
go shopping, Candice, for party.
”

“
Not now, Gio. It can wait,
”
I countered, knowing I had nothing left in my arsenal of
excuses to delay this spree.

“
We go now!
”

I
relented. Snagging Mom
’
s keys to her X-5, I helped Gio into the front seat as Mile
climbed in the back.
“
I remember there
’
s a leather place up in New
Port Richey, but I don
’
t remember the name.
”

“
We go, we find. Let
’
s ride,
”
directed Gio, pointing his forefinger forward across the
dash.

I
laughed,
“
That
’
s it, Gio. The store, it
’
s called Let
’
s Ride.
”
His puzzled look was priceless. I didn
’
t attempt to explain,
pulling through our security gates and driving northwest towards Port Richey.
Conversing with Mile in Italian while en-route to the leather shop, I learned
she was ready to go home with or without Giovanni.

Gio,
sensing her unhappiness, more in her tone than her words, wormed his way into
our conversation before I could find out why.
“
She not want to see you hurt.
Mile miss D and you, how you say ... together?
”

Speaking
only Italian now,
“
I can
’
t fix us by myself, he has to want to as well. I
’
m sorry you were dragged in
the middle of this. It
’
s not your place to make it better. This is all on me. I
lied to him, not once, not twice, but three times. And he knows it. Why should
he care what happens to me?
”

“
He good man,
”
countered
Gio.
“
His
eyes speak so.
”

Oh
... his eyes, his brown bedroom eyes
.
“
I remember the first time D kissed me by the waterfalls. He
was gentle, yet powerful, selfless, but confident. He knew how far he was
willing to go with me ... I am sorry, you don
’
t need to hear all this.
”
After my confessional, I felt Mile
’
s hand patting my right
shoulder.

“
D, good for you,
”
Mile added, before lifting her hand off my shoulder,
hesitating just a second, before slapping Gio squarely on the cheek.
“
You be good.
”

A
litany of Italian curse words filled the SUV as Gio rubbed his face, smarting
from the sting of her open palm.
“
Mile ... she say I should be
good for her like D for you,
”
he
laughed as I pulled into the parking lot of Let
’
s Ride.

Timing
is everything, whew
!
“
Come
on guys, let
’
s go make me into a Pretty Woman slash biker babe or bitch,
for that matter,
”
I
mumbled the last words softly under my breath. A well-deserved moniker Joseph
assigned to me at the end of our tumultuous and troubled marriage, forever and
a day, ago.

An
hour later and twelve hundred dollars lighter, I had chaps, boots, a jacket, a
belt and a red thong. My plan was to wear my red silk Donna Karan Caftan Gown
to the Gala before changing into leathers for the party that followed. I wasn't
sure about the red thong. That was for D
’
s eyes only, on his bike and
with my toy, if and when, the stars aligned and we were together again. Mile,
not to be denied, found a pair of Italian red leather pants, size eight and a
matching vest while Gio came away with a patch for his jacket. Oh, and a
sizable decrease in the thickness of his wallet.
Treat her good, Gio,
I
thought,
or she will take you for all you
’
re dumb enough to give her
before she kicks your rear to the curb.

Just
for kicks and giggles, the three of us had dinner out at Byrne
’
s on the way home. I was
hoping to meet up with Lisa again to see if she remembered me. Sadly, she was
not working today.
Probably off somewhere laying her head in the lap of the
guy with the red Ferrari.
What do I care? I don
’
t, but then again, I do.
What idiot in their right mind, sincerely trying to get back together would
bring me to his local haunt and introduce me to his fave bimbo? I hate to admit
it, but we
’
re both playing the same
type of game as Gio and Mile. Only our stakes were much, much higher.

Once
we got home, having enough of being social, I said my goodnights to everyone,
turned on Sinatra, snuggled up to a pillow and fell asleep. It was not the
sound of the alarm that roused me from sleep, but Gio
’
s strong calloused hand
jostling my shoulder.

“
You get up. Candice, now! D, he call in dark. He call back,
say talk to you.
”
Pointing
to the time on the phone, 7:30,
“
D call 8:00.
”