Chapter Twenty-Two
B ecca’s younger brothers , John and James De Monte, were twins. They lived together in a residential condo. Like most bachelor pads, the place was messy. The sink was piled with dirty dishes and old laundry was strewn across a chair.
When the door opened and Becca and Rio stepped inside, before she’d even introduced them, she immediately began to gather the clothing and eye the dishes. He guessed as an older sister, it had become her custom to clean up after the boys , as she called them.
An enormous television screen, fronted by gaming controllers and scattered boxes of video games, had been placed on the living room carpet. Apparently they were avid gamers.
After their initial greeting and hugs, she gestured at Rio. “John, James, this is Rio. You won’t believe this, but he saved my life.”
The boys , actually men in their early twenties, gaped at him in surprise. They were dark-haired, brown-eyed, and slight. Both were in shirtsleeves and jeans.
“Saved your life?” John said to her. “What are you talking about?”
“Yeah, and where have you been?” James cut in. “You were supposed to be back from Mexico days ago.”
They shook Rio’s hand and he could see a resemblance to Becca in their hair and slender builds.
“Your sister,” Rio told them bluntly, “was kidnapped from the Mexican ambassador’s house by some nasty cartel guys. And she was caught in gunfire. Shot.”
Both identical faces swiveled to their sister. John burst out, “Are you okay?”
“Shot!” James said. “What—what happened? We didn’t know.”
“Does Dad know about this?” John asked, scowling.
They both looked her up and down, but since she wore a white oxford shirt and black slacks, they couldn’t see a wound.
Becca stuffed an armload of clothing into a laundry hamper and sent Rio a frown. “I’m fine,” she told them. “It’s just a graze on my leg. Rio has a melodramatic way of blurting things out.” She closed the hamper lid. “And yes, Dad knows.”
In clipped tones, Rio told them the rest of the story: the kidnapping, the lack of ransom demand, even about Uncle Tim moving contraband in the warehouse.
In unison, both sank onto a leather couch. Their faces revealed shock, and, to Rio’s practiced eye, their innocence. They were young, na?ve, and probably didn’t know what was happening right beneath their noses. He didn’t think they’d be much help.
“Have you two,” he asked, “seen anything different going on at your warehouse? Anything unusual at all?”
The boys exchanged glances. Rio noticed they did that a lot. It was beginning to annoy him.
James spoke first. “Seems like a lot of extra crates have been ordered by the shop foreman.”
John stroked his jaw. “You’re right. Crate orders have gone up.”
Rio tried not to jump on them. They weren’t stupid, but yeah, he’d nailed them from the outset: they were na?ve. “Did either of you think to find out why the shop suddenly needed more crates?”
“Not really.” James scratched his armpit. “That’s Becca’s job and she was still out of town.”
Rio fought the urge to bash their heads together. Maybe they could be useful in another way.
Cutting to the chase, he asked them, “Either of you proficient with firearms? Do you own guns?”
Once again, they glanced at each other. John said, “We played paint ball one time.”
Rio raised his chin and stared at the ceiling. Becca had told him that their mother had passed years ago. Now, as he watched her rinse her brother’s dishes at the sink, he understood that she’d become the caretaker of the family.
She was the important center of both the family and their business. It was increasingly apparent that the company was successful because of her. She was the linchpin.
No woman he’d ever been involved with before had such importance within her own world. The concept was outside his experience, and he needed a moment to process the alien notion.
And he was left with one thought: Becca was amazing.
“We’re digging for the truth now,” he told the boys. “So, don’t tip our hands. Go to work each day but say nothing to anyone else. Got that? Not a whisper.”
They both gave solemn nods.
Apparently neither would be of use in protecting Becca any more than their father. As he’d thought, his protective services were much needed. Still.
Becca needed a keeper.
****
R eturning to his city penthouse office, Harrison paced by the expansive window and studied the bustling traffic and people moving below. Concentrating hard, he barely saw them.
Rio Lang had become a problem.
It wasn’t unheard of, although unusual, for one of his own to turn from an asset into a liability. It happened. And he was philosophical about the matter. In his business, operators came and went. It was a difficult decision to make, because in terms of smarts, ingenuity, and just plain expertise, Rio Lang had been right at the top.
The man had gone off the reservation. He’d gone rogue. Harrison hadn’t heard from him in days and when he’d unexpectedly turned up at De Monte’s senate fundraising party, dragging Rebecca De Monte with him, it was obvious he would no longer follow Harrison’s orders. Now he knew too much. Clearly, a new element had come into play for Rio Lang, an ingredient as old as humanity itself.
The power of the pussy.
Too bad. Three days prior, Harrison had sent a new team to the Mexican valley rendezvous point, to the place where they were to receive Rebecca from Rio, and this time he’d chosen them more carefully. He made sure they looked more like professional operators than the ruffians he’d sent before.
Despite that, obviously Lang had been spooked, had run with Rebecca, and they’d lost themselves in the vast Mexican forests. The new team reported that they’d gotten away.
When the two later appeared at the fundraiser, Harrison knew exactly what had gone wrong. Lang had fallen under the woman’s spell.
Now, Harrison walked to a small wet bar and tossed a few ice cubes into a highball glass. Opening a crystal decanter, he poured himself a hefty serving of whisky. His doctor had told him to cut back on the alcohol. Way back. His doctor had also told him to cut out the cigars. The nagging hadn’t ended there. He was supposed to get exercise, eat right, lose weight.
He’d done none of it.
Hell, he wanted to enjoy life. Nobody lived forever. And neither would Rio Lang. This was just business.
It was time to take him out.