Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Lana swam head-on at the waves, ignoring the chill of the water. Usually, the Pacific was too cold for her. She preferred lying in the sun to braving the chilly currents. But today, every one of Max’s glances turned up her temperature to feverish levels. She needed to cool off.
And my god, he looked unbelievable in those swim shorts.
The poor woman in that boutique had barely survived the experience of seeing so much man at one time.
Max’s muscles weren’t bunched up and blocky, like some strong guys.
Instead, he was all swooping angles and long, steep curves, one muscle flowing into the next like some kind of Greek statue.
She liked the few pounds of fat he’d put onto his form in the last ten years. It softened the lines of him and made him that much more inviting, that much easier to wrap herself up in.
Max swam over to her and hooked his arms around her.
Their bodies pressed together, slippery and hot compared to the icy cold of the water.
He lifted her up, resting his hands underneath her to hold her weight.
She put her arms around his neck. They kissed lazily, not getting too worked up.
Like they had an endless stretch of time before them, and there was no rush at all.
Lana had a fleeting concern that someone would see them. Max had testified under oath just two weeks ago that they had no current relationship. But he hadn’t lied. This was new and unexpected, and…not even a relationship. Not yet. Just something they were both exploring.
And who would notice them out here, anyway? This spot wasn’t crowded, and most people looking for either Max Bennett or Lana Marchetti would check the courthouse or a conference room before they’d check the beach.
They splashed each other and wrestled in the water, Max alternating between tender kisses and aggressive play.
At one point, he tossed her over his shoulder and pretended he was carrying her out to sea.
Lana reached down to grab his ass cheek in those sexy little swim shorts, and Max retaliated by grabbing hers, letting his thumb graze a bit too close to the crotch of her bathing suit for public display.
But soon, she felt her skin tightening under the sun.
She’d put on sunblock that morning, but it would’ve washed off by now.
And despite the illusion that they had all the time in the world, the day was clearly passing.
The sun was already beginning the downward portion of its journey across the sky.
“We should probably head back in,” she said. “I can’t believe you’ve gone so long without touching your phone.”
“I can’t either. But you know what? I don’t actually care.” Then his nose wrinkled. “I guess I care a little. I probably should check my messages.”
“It’s okay. So should I.”
They waded hand-in-hand back to shore. When they reached their clothes, Lana took her cover-up out of the bag and put it on. She found their phones at the bottom of the pile, handing Max his. He unlocked the screen and started swiping his thumbs.
“Sylvie wrote. She’s got news about that burner phone. A possible lead.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Even though she wasn’t happy about the intrusion of reality into their fairytale afternoon. The reference to her stalker quashed her mood.
Lana pushed her hair back, squeezing out the excess water over the sand. Max put on his clothes. Lana picked up their shopping bag, ready to go. Then she noticed that her new scarf wasn’t here. It wasn’t in the bag, or in the sand.
“My scarf is gone.”
They both looked around, thinking that it might have somehow blown away. Yet Lana was sure she’d put it beneath their phones. She’d been worried about the wind because it was so lightweight.
The scarf wasn’t anywhere.
An eerie feeling was creeping over her, the knowledge that this was no accident. Someone had been here, going through their things. Someone had taken it.
But she was afraid to voice that suspicion aloud. She had no reason to think that anybody had been here. And she didn’t want to spoil this perfect day by making another reference, even tangentially, to her stalker.
Besides, even if someone had taken it, it had probably been some kid looking for something to sell.
But even as she had that thought, she knew it was ridiculous. Max had left his wallet here, too. But it hadn’t been touched.
“I’m sorry,” Max said. “Let’s go back to the store. I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Maybe another time.”
Even though she knew there very likely wouldn’t be another day with Max like this one. But she didn’t want to think about that, or the scarf, anymore.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him along the beach. “I’m salty. Let’s go back and have another shower.” She smiled suggestively, knowing that Max would be all too eager. “Then we can talk to Sylvie afterward.”
But as they walked back, she couldn’t help scanning every face on the street. Wondering if someone here could be him. Her stalker.
If he’d been following them, watching, this whole time.
Back at the Bennett Security building, they didn’t have time for a leisurely visit to Max’s five-piece master bath.
Instead, Sylvie pounced the minute they walked into the entrance. “Max! Where have you been? You’ve got to take a look at this.”
Sylvie slowed down, getting a better look at them. “Wait, where have you been?”
Max stuck his hands into the pockets of his swim trunks. The ones he’d brought from home, not his new tiny shorts. Lana guessed that those would’ve made a much bigger impression on the workroom.
“We were at the beach. I took the morning off.”
Lana could see many things passing through Sylvie’s mind. But the woman seemed to decide that no comment would be a wiser course, so she continued with her previous subject.
“I figured out who may have owned that burner phone.”
They followed Sylvie across the workroom to her computer. “As I mentioned to Lana earlier, I found out from the FBI office over in L.A. that our serial number was tied to a bunch of burner phones seized from a downtown warehouse.”
She leaned a hand on her desk, smiling with satisfaction. “And that warehouse belongs to the Silverlake Syndicate.”
Sylvie explained what else she’d found out.
The FBI seizure had been related to a drug bust. They’d found a cache of weapons, cocaine, and unmarked bills.
The burner phones were probably their supply to use as needed, since various people throughout the levels of the drug operation would need new phones on a regular basis as they tried to stay a step ahead of the authorities.
Lana knew far more about the Syndicate than she wanted to. She’d spent the last few months prosecuting several senior members, including Dominic Crane himself, the organization’s former leader.
“Dominic Crane is no longer the head of the Syndicate, right?” Max asked. “Lana, do you know who’s heading them up now?”
“That’s a complicated question without a clear answer.”
Previously, Dominic’s older brother Warren had led the criminal organization, but Warren was now in San Quentin serving a sentence for tax evasion.
Many within the Syndicate hadn’t approved of the choice of Dominic as his successor.
They saw Dominic Crane as weak because he wanted to limit the Syndicate’s activities to the slightly less-unsavory spectrum of the criminal underworld.
Crane didn’t like to engage in things like human trafficking, underage prostitution, or selling fentanyl.
A civil war had erupted within the Syndicate between those loyal to Crane and those who wanted a more brutal style of leader. Someone who had no qualms about exploiting every potential source of profit.
A few months ago, Crane had gotten caught up in a murder conspiracy, and there were still charges pending against him. His lawyer had opted to delay his trial, and Lana had already had enough to deal with.
While in jail, Crane had narrowly survived an assassination attempt by his former friends. Now that he was out on bail, Crane was stuck in his house wearing an ankle monitor.
“From what I’ve learned from talking to the L.A. gang unit,” Lana said, “the civil war within the Syndicate has been ongoing. Several different factions have been trying to take power, but no one has come out ahead yet.”
Sylvie folded her arms. “That’s pretty much what the Feds were telling me, too.
One of the particular factions was tied to this warehouse where the drug bust took place.
So even though the Feds have made some arrests, it’s nowhere near a death blow.
This thing with the burner phones, though, shows that Lana’s stalker is probably a member of the Syndicate, or someone low-level who works for them. They’re coming after her for revenge.”
“It could be one of Dominic Crane’s few remaining allies,” Max suggested, “trying to put pressure on her to drop the case against him.”
“But I haven’t heard a peep from Crane’s lawyer in months.”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” Max glared at Sylvie’s computer screen, which displayed the info about the FBI seizure. “He’s probably waiting until just the right moment. Exert pressure first, create fear. Spread chaos in the target’s mind. Then claim credit and make demands. It’s textbook.”
That made sense to Lana. Yet she had trouble imagining that Dominic Crane was behind this. The last she’d seen him, his pompous demeanor had been diminished. He’d seemed more like a monarch who’d been dethroned, stripped of all his titles and trappings.
Yet she could also imagine that a man like him, though not as ruthless as some, would stoop to new lows when faced with such humiliation and defeat. Maybe Crane was having second thoughts about his kinder, gentler methods for running the Syndicate.
This could be his first step toward making a play to regain his rightful place.
And what better way to prove his cruelty than to go after the West Oaks prosecutor who’d dared to charge him?
“Your point is well taken,” Lana said. “I’ll get Crane’s lawyer on the phone. I want to hear what he has to say.”
Max told her he didn’t like the idea. Which was no surprise. But Lana wasn’t asking for his permission.
She did, however, need his facilities to make the phone call. Either that, or she’d have to go upstairs to her makeshift office, and neither of them suggested that. His apartment was their private space, and Lana didn’t want to invite Crane inside, even through technology.
Max agreed to set her up in his glass-walled office above the main workroom.
Lana dashed upstairs for a quick shower and a change into more work-like attire. Then she got Crane’s lawyer, Aaron Sandford, on the phone. She couldn’t contact Crane directly because he had representation.
Sandford didn’t appreciate the interruption of his Sunday afternoon, but Lana was insistent. “I’ve discovered evidence that your client hired someone to stalk and harass me. So, if you don’t want me to start adding new charges, then you’d better get him on the phone to explain himself. Now.”
Within an hour, the massive screen in Max’s office showed a video feed of Dominic Crane’s living room.
He sat in a chair upholstered in expensive-looking fabric, legs crossed casually, while Sandford stood beside him wearing a golf polo and khakis.
Crane’s ankle monitor was just visible below his pant cuff.
“Always a pleasure to see you, Lana,” Crane said brightly, as if they were great friends. “What can I do for you?”
She sat against Max’s desk, trying to match Crane’s easy demeanor. Max lounged on his couch, off-camera, drumming his fingers against the jeans he’d changed into.
She laid out some of what she knew so far. How someone had been stalking and threatening her, though she kept the details vague. How the phone used to make the harassing calls had been tied to the Syndicate.
“You have no evidence of my client’s involvement in anything,” Sandford barked.
Crane acted like his lawyer hadn’t spoken. “And you think I’m behind it?”
“Your name came to mind.”
Crane glanced to the side, inclining his head. The man had no right to be so attractive. His features were classical, downright beautiful, like old medieval paintings Lana had seen in museums. Like Lucifer contemplating the Garden of Eden, perhaps.
“I’m sorry someone’s been bothering you.
But I don’t regret being on your mind. I never talk to anyone as pretty as you these days, being trapped in this house.
” His head tilted back the other way. “Though pretty isn’t the right word for you.
Stunning? Captivating? Maybe we should ask Max Bennett what he thinks, since no doubt he’s off camera scowling at me. ”
Lana held up a hand at Max, who was indeed scowling.
“Mr. Crane, you’re talking to me right now.
The only reason I’m here at Bennett Security, instead of at my own office, is that this stalker tried to run me off the road.
That’s an attempted murder charge to add to your Murder One, once we prove he was working under your orders. ”
Sandford was apoplectic. But once again, Crane seemed to be pretending his attorney didn’t exist. A wrinkle creased his otherwise flawless face.
“Why would I want to harm you? The first-degree murder charge is weak, and you know it. That’s why you’ve been more than happy to delay my trial, as have I, though for different reasons, obviously.
I don’t want to be out in the open while people are trying to kill me.
And you’ve already gotten guilty verdicts against two other individuals for the murder I’m charged with. ”
“Those are your accomplices. All of you are equally guilty.”
“But the jury won’t see it that way. I didn’t pull any triggers, and I didn’t issue any orders. I’m innocent. You must know that.”
She had to admit, Crane’s reasoning wasn’t too far off. Lana knew the weaknesses of her case against him.
But innocent? No way. Dominic Crane was far from innocent.
He was definitely guilty of other crimes, so she wasn’t eager to simply turn him loose and dismiss all charges. For now, Crane still had a motive to get rid of her, or to put pressure on her.
“But how do you explain the connection between my stalker and the Syndicate? You expect me to believe that’s a coincidence?”
“I can’t explain it. But I’m happy to look into it. As a favor to you. A personal favor.”
Lana heard Max grumbling. She didn’t look over.
“What do you want in exchange?” Because there had to be something.
Crane smiled like the wolf meeting Red Riding Hood. “Your promise that next time, you’ll come see me in person. I never have visitors. I’m lonely.”
Max’s eyes bugged. But he managed to keep himself seated, to Lana’s relief.
“That’s not going to happen. But if you provide me with useful information, I’ll entertain other suggestions. Mr. Sandford can let me know.”
Lana pressed a key on Max’s computer and cut off the call.