In a Heartbeat - Elizabeth Adler [102]
It was those men Mario was afraid of. He had turned his house into a fortress, never left it without a couple of armed bodyguards. Until now, he almost never left it at all.
That was when life had lost its flavor, and when Alberto Ricci had come along with his offer. The deal had been Mario’s final chance to go legit. It would put him back in the real world as a real estate magnate. He saw himself becoming the socialite, like Ricci, maybe even with a classy blonde wife. Plus, it gave him the opportunity to get rid of Ed Vincent. That was the greatest bonus of all time, the one that he laughed himself sick over.
But of course Ricci had not put his offer in writing. It had all been done on a handshake, and with the proviso that Mario take care of his part of the deal first. So now Ricci was free and clear, and it was Mario who was in the hot seat.
Mario looked at his guards, who were pretending not to watch him as he stood on his palatial front portico. He wanted to kill Ricci. But he wanted Ed dead more. Only now he was forced to take care of his baby brother himself.
Lila Aramanov sat in Gus’s favorite chair in front of the 60-inch TV set, looking at her husband’s mug shot on the eleven o’clock news. Her blonde hair was dragged hastily back from her unmade-up face, and tears trickled slowly down her pale cheeks. Lila was destroyed. Her world had fallen apart.
The media were camped outside her door. There were TV camera crews with enormous trucks, and perky female reporters in red suits and short blonde hairdos, with the ever-present microphone ready to thrust under her nose should she even stick her head out the door. Which she did only when the pizza delivery truck arrived. The high school kid who delivered had loved every minute of his “fame.” He had posed for the cameras, telling them exactly what her order was, grinning like a soap star.
Gus had simply disappeared; hadn’t even said anything to her, just never came home. He’d left her to find out from the TV “breaking news” that she was married to a hit man, the suspect in the attempted murder of Ed Vincent, and the attacker of a woman and child in Santa Monica.
At first she couldn’t believe they were talking about her Gus. Her teddy bear. A guy who loved his children. But it was true, and the good life that had been hers was hers no longer. This house, the smart cars—everything would have to go.
She walked to the window, inched back the heavy silk drape. She could see a uniformed cop standing in her front yard, and knew there was another outside the front door, and yet another in the back. They were staking out her home, waiting for Gus to return. But Lila knew he never would. He had left her to face the music, alone.
She would kill Gus herself if she could only get her hands on the lying, evil bastard.
59
Santa Monica Airport was a well-trafficked little place, accommodating everything from single-engine Cessna Skylanes, like Ed’s, to Gulfstream jets carrying rock-and-roll stars and media executives. Plus the hundreds of small private planes whose owners flew short hops around the state, and the charter companies with their own fleets of aircraft.
Maybe it was being so near the ocean, but it had a jolly, holiday-style atmosphere about it, with people drinking martinis on the roof terrace of the restaurant, watching the beautiful little aircraft swoop in, red and green lights twinkling in the dusk, amid the subdued roar of powerful engines.
There was still something glamorous about jet flight, Mario de Soto thought, as his pilot landed the chartered Lear and taxied to a stop. The steps unfurled, the attendant opened the door, and the pilot emerged from the cockpit to bid farewell to his only passenger.
“Enjoy the golf, Mr. Farrar,” he said to Mario de Soto, who had chosen his father’s name as his alias.
His Vuitton suitcase and his golf bag were already waiting and he wheeled them himself to the rented