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

He’d
enjoyed something much darker. A small shudder spilled over her
warm memories.
    Franco downed his drink in one swallow, then grabbed
her glass from the bar.
    Pushing aside her memories, good and bad, Jo caught
his gaze. “Sit. We need to talk.”
    With a visible effort, Franco relaxed his shoulders
and followed her to the sectional.
    They sat down, and Jo kept what she hoped was a safe
distance between them. Franco pulled his tie off, then threw it on
the small table in front of the sofa. Still holding his brandy, he
stared down at the liquid in his glass. Jo wished she could have
some of the warming drink to chase the chills that had crept up her
spine while she watched Franco’s face as he’d listened to the
call.
    “What did he say?” she asked quietly.
    He turned to her with expressionless eyes. “He knows
Harris is my bodyguard and he knows the Town Car is bulletproof.
Apparently, that angers him. He said no one will stop him from
getting to me, and when he does, I either give him what he wants
and he’ll let me die quickly or he’ll torture it out of me.”
    She shuddered. “And he wants money? Think, Franco.
What money could he want?”
    He knocked back his drink, set the empty glass on
the table, then turned to her. “If I knew what he wanted, don’t you
think I’d give it to him?” His features tightened and he looked
away. “Money. Mac.” He shook his head. “No, it couldn’t be.”
    “Mac? What are you talking about?”
    He looked at her. “It’s nothing.”
    “Franco, you have to tell me everything.”
    “There’s nothing to tell. I don’t know why I thought
of Mac. He’s dead so he couldn’t have anything to do with
this.”
    Leaning back, she closed her eyes, taking large,
even breaths, using the meditation technique one of her
mental-health counselors had taught her. After the trauma of her
childhood, then the Army and now the security firm, Jo had taught
herself to stay calm in any circumstance, to isolate her emotions.
The meditation worked its magic and soon blessed calm stole over
her. She opened her eyes to Franco watching her.
    “You okay?” he asked with a small smile. “I’m the
one he wants to kill, not you.”
    “And I’m the one charged with keeping you
alive.”
    His eyes softened and he reached for her, taking her
hand in his. “Jo, it’ll be okay.”
    She pulled away and scooted to the other end of the
sofa. “It’ll be okay so long as you listen to me and Harris,
Callahan.”
    “It’s Franco, remember?” He shot her a teasing grin
that must have made countless women melt at his feet. She wasn’t
those other women. But the warmth that swirled through her told her
she wasn’t so different after all.
    With a determined shove, she pushed up from her
seat. “Stay here. I left my tablet in the kitchen. I have
questions.”
    When she came back, Franco was lounging on the sofa,
looking like a man without a care in the world. He’d lost the look
of fear mixed with anger he’d had in his eyes when he’d hung up
from the call. She wondered if years of partying had taught him how
to mask his feelings, to put on the pretense of the international
playboy. Jo suspected she might like the real Franco if he ever
completely let down his guard. That frightened her almost as much
as the thought of him being murdered.
    Sinking down onto the cushions next to him, she
turned on her tablet, then faced him.
    “All business now, are we?” he said. “All right. Hit
me with your questions.”
    “I need to satisfy my curiosity first.” She scanned
the elegantly decorated modern room. “The police report says your
house was broken into two weeks ago. Sofa cushions ripped, tables
overturned, drawers pulled out and emptied, food taken out of the
refrigerator and thrown on the floor. Glasses and dishes broken.”
She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “And a death threat
written in black marker on the living room wall. Is that
right?”
    “Don’t forget the