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Enzo shook his head in disbelief and stepped in front of him. He stuck his hand out to the guard who held Asa’s gun, wiggling his fingers for it to be handed over. Once firmly in his grip, Enzo placed it against Asa’s forehead.
“Tell me what you are expecting to get from your daughter, or I will pull this trigger. Your choice.”
Asa’s face paled. He sucked in a big gulp of air. “Okay! Okay!” He threw up his hands. “B…but how do I know you won’t kill me anyway?”
Enzo’s voice was emotionless. “You don’t. It’s a chance you’ll have to take.”
Asa’s eyes frantically darted around the room, searching for an escape route. When the futility of his situation finally hit, he told Enzo about the ledger. Thirty minutes of probing questions, and Enzo had everything he needed to know—the ledger would be his. If what Kline told him was true, some very influential politicians would soon be in his debt, and it wouldn’t cost him a dime.
“I could help you get the ledger. I mean, my buddies and I can take the risk. If we knew where Morgan was… I mean, you must have some idea. Portland isn’t exactly New York. Gotta be a reason you’re here. You tell us where she is, and we’ll get the ledger for you. All I want is the girl,” he added.
“The girl? Why would you want her? It’s always been about the ledger and money. Don’t pretend you care anything about your daughter.”
“If I’m taking all the heat and you’re getting the ledger, why I want her is my business.”
Enzo rubbed his chin. “And I’m supposed to believe you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart for no fee?”
“My heart’s got nothing to do with it. I’m just trying to stay alive.”
Enzo thought about it for a few minutes. He didn’t trust Asa Kline as far as he could spit. The man was buying time, hoping to get the ledger for himself. But the bikers taking all the risks was actually a good idea.
Earlier that morning, Enzo received a phone call from one of his informants with the FBI who had recently been transferred to Portland, Maine. He had information about Morgan Skylar but insisted Enzo meet him in person. Enzo was still pissed about making the trip. The informant had come across an expense advance request for a couple of agents who were traveling to Cliff View Harbor, Maine. They were meeting with Morgan Skylar, the two people who were traveling with Max and his son. The agents were to pick up a package at the local post office and interview potential witnesses. Now that Enzo knew about the ledger, it answered the package question, but not what they were doing in Maine or why the girl was traveling with Max and his son in the first place.
When Fatima called him about seeing Max’s doppelganger on the cover of a bestselling novel, Enzo figured she was up to something. She was a manipulative bitch, and he never knew what game she was playing. He only began the affair to get inside information about Max. It had been easier than he had anticipated.
His Uncle Julian had spent over twenty years trying to find Max’s child, and the idea that he could have been in the public eye for a good portion of that time was pure irony. Besides, no one was sure about the sex of Max’s child or if it was still alive. One look at that picture on the back cover of Sebastian Bartoli’s book, and Enzo knew without a doubt. He was a younger Max, and that fact screwed up all of Enzo’s plans for taking the company away from him. Sebastian would inherit Max’s controlling interest in the company. Now Enzo had two people to eliminate. Asa and his buddies were excellent scapegoats for the theft of the ledger and the murders of Max and his son. Enzo’s men would shadow the bikers to Cliff View Harbor. As soon as Max and Sebastian were dead, his men would retrieve the ledger, and the bikers would meet a tragic end.
“Okay, Mr. Kline. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
After Kline left, Enzo punched in a speed dial number on his cell phone.
“Have my plane ready to leave for New York within an hour. I don’t want to be anywhere near this place when this all goes down.”
Chapter Forty-One
Morgan lay awake in a lavish Victorian-styled bedroom decorated with dark-polished wood, taupe walls, and fabrics of satin and chiffon in colors of cream and moss green. The delicately embroidered quilted bedspread and piles of decorative pillows made her feel like a princess. Her beat-up backpack looked out of place lying in the corner. She didn’t dare set it on the furniture for fear of getting it dirty.
The afternoon and evening had gone well. Mrs. Fontana turned out to be a gracious, down-to-earth, and giving woman despite her wealth. If she hadn’t known the truth, Morgan would have thought Ms. Fontana had been a grandmother to Sebastian his whole life.
In the late afternoon, Morgan received a call from Agent Miguel Perez with the Portland office of the FBI. He was the local liaison agent for the Washington DC FBI office that was handling the Clark Wayne Kline case. After a call to her attorney for verification, she agreed to speak to the agent on speaker while Max, Bash, and Sam silently listened to the conversation.
The agent took the explanation that Linda Martin of Cliff View Harbor was a family friend at face value. If they had run a background check, it certainly would have revealed her identity as Gia Fontana. Agent Perez and his team should arrive at Ms. Martin’s address by 10 a.m. They would explain the release documents Morgan was to sign, then escort Ms. Martin to the post office to retrieve the ledger. The agent didn’t see a reason for Morgan or anyone else to accompany them for the retrieval. The call took less than ten minutes.
As soon as Morgan’s phone disconnected, everyone began speaking at once. Sam was upset with the casual attitude the agent displayed, leading him to believe the FBI didn’t perceive any threats. Max refused to let his mother be escorted anywhere without him and a security detail. Bash was concerned with the dismissive attitude the agent had toward Morgan and couldn’t believe no one openly voiced objections.
Sam explained that arguing with an FBI agent on an open and most likely recorded line was a bad idea. It might have jeopardized Morgan’s deal. They agreed to wait until the federal agents were present to voice their concerns. Once the agents arrived, they would be more likely to negotiate rather than waste a trip. No matter how many agents showed up, Sam and his team would keep everyone safe.
During the whole conversation, no one asked for Morgan’s opinion or even glanced her way. She suddenly felt irrelevant and wasn’t sure why she no longer mattered. Her experience with men was limited, but they all seemed to be competing to be the alpha. Well, she sure as heck wasn’t about to be their beta. The worst part—it hurt. Sam Barrett worked for Sebastian and Max. The last thing she wanted was to sound like a whiny female. It wasn’t her house or her family. She was the sole reason they were all forced to be involved with the FBI. She would only sound ungrateful if she spoke up. The reality was that without Pops, she had no family on her side.
After taking ten calming breaths to clear her mind, she asked herself what Pops would tell her to do. Things always felt better when she had a Popsism to fall back on. A few minutes later, Pops’ words came to her. You can’t let yourself be at other peoples’ whims, Morgan. If you feel you have lost control, find a way to take it back. Ultimately, you must look out for yourself because no one else will. You do you. Let them do them.”
Morgan would control what she could control. Herself. Thanks, Pops.
Chapter Forty-Two
Morgan was showered and dressed by 6 a.m. the following morning. She wasn’t sure what to wear to a meeting with the FBI but figured it didn’t matter anyway. Her choices had dwindled to unwashed jeans, a few dirty thermal tops, and one clean sweater she had picked up in Ashville. It would have to do.
When she walked into the kitchen, her stomach did an audible growl from the smell wafting through the air. Her face flushed with embarrassment when she noticed Mrs. Fontana look up from her magazine and smile.
