Franco's Fortune (Redemption Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

hadn’t
eaten since the sandwich she’d had several hours ago. Food could
wait. Her confrontation with Franco couldn’t.
    Twenty minutes and more miles of pacing later, she
heard a car pull up. Over the rumble of the engine, doors opened
and closed. Jo hurried to look out the door’s peephole, then
disengaged the security alarm. Heavy footsteps raced up the marble
steps, then the sound of a key turned in the lock.
    “See you tomorrow, Franco,” she heard Harris say as
the door swung open.
    Franco entered the foyer and shut the door behind
him.
    “Don’t forget to reset the alarm,” she said.
    He reset the alarm, dropped his briefcase on the
hall table, loosened his tie, then sauntered into the living room.
She followed. He turned. His gaze scanned her. Something hot and
dark lit his blue eyes, something that stoked an answering heat in
her.
    With an arrogant quirk of his eyebrow, he gave her a
slow, sizzling smile. “You look a little perturbed, Fortune. Not
enjoying your stay? Accommodations not to your liking?”
    She stalked toward him, not stopping until only
inches separated them. “You jerk.” She jabbed a finger into his
chest, suppressing a wince when her finger connected with hard
muscle. “How do you expect us to keep you safe if you can’t be
straight with us?”
    He grabbed her hand and held it before she could
poke him again. “What are you talking about?”
    “You don’t know?” she asked, jutting out her
chin.
    “Have no idea.” He still held onto her hand.
    She jerked free and stepped back. “You told us no
one had keys to your place. What about Marissa?”
    “Marissa?” He swiped a hand over his short hair. “I
left her a message the other day telling her I wouldn’t need her
for awhile. That’s why I didn’t tell you. Did she show up
here?”
    “She sure did, cleaning products in hand.”
    “I didn’t think she’d come. I didn’t want to take
any chance on her getting hurt while those thugs, or whoever, are
out there. Maybe she never got the message.” He narrowed his eyes.
“You didn’t hurt her, did you?”
    “I didn’t. But I scared the poor woman half to
death. And I took her key away.”
    “You had no right to take the key. I trust her. I’ll
make sure she doesn’t come back until this whole thing is
over.”
    “I guarantee she won’t come back. You lost your
rights when those thugs threatened you. Right now, my job is to
protect you and your job is to do what I say.”
    “No one tells me what to do.”
    “If you want to live, I’ll tell you what to do. And
you’ll listen. ’Fess up. Now. Who else has a key to your place? And
I hope you haven’t given anyone your security code.”
    “There are people who have keys, people I trust. You
don’t need to know who they are. They won’t come here until this
mess is over.”
    Franco’s cell phone rang. Frowning, he slipped the
phone from his pocket and punched the connection to start the call.
“Yeah?” he said roughly.
    His face hardened as he listened for several
seconds. “Who—” With a puzzled expression, he stared down at the
phone, then slid it back into his pocket.
    Her anger forgotten, Jo approached him. “It was him,
wasn’t it?”
    He raised his gaze to hers. Fear and anger flashed
in his eyes. “That sonofabitch.” He headed toward the small bar. “I
need a drink.”
    He grabbed two brandy snifters from the rack above
the bar, plunked the glasses onto the wooden surface, and reached
for a decanter filled with golden liquid. After pouring a shot into
each glass, Franco came from behind the bar and held out a glass to
Jo.
    Shaking her head, she put up a hand.
    “Take it. We both need a drink,” he said.
    “I don’t drink when I’m on duty.”
    He set her glass on the bar. Jo watched the liquid
swirl in the glass. Brandy always reminded her of her father.
Memories, as warm as brandy, curled through her. Her dad had loved
the sweet drink, and he’d loved her. Not so her stepfather.