The apartment was small, every surface cluttered with cheap ornaments and tacky religious statues. It was apparent the girls had not entertained at home. A Mac computer stood in the middle of a table, next to a stack of what looked like seminude glamour photos. The only seating was a chair in front of the computer and a narrow bench by the window.

Chris took the bench. Yana sat in the chair. She was not dressed for work, more like for a stay-at-home day in baggy velour pants and a tightly fitted T-shirt featuring an Adam Levine image. He imagined she must be quite something when done up and ready to ply her wares.

"What I tell you?" she asked, nervously picking at a hangnail.

"I'd like to hear one more time what this john said he required from Nadia. Maybe you can repeat exactly what she told you."

Yana thought for a moment before licking her slightly puffy lips. "He say he want very beautiful girl to get this guy to go to her hotel room," she said, rubbing the tip of her nose. "He offer much money. No sex. Nadia said she could do it. Easy for her. No man ever resisted Nadia. She could get a man to do whatever she wanted."

"Until he killed her."

"Yob tvoyu mati!" Yana exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"Motherfucker," Chris said quietly.

Yana looked startled. "You speak Russian?" she said, her mismatched eyes widening.

Chris nodded.

"That is good," she said, before launching into a stream of Russian complaining about what a violent country America was, and how she couldn't wait to save enough money and head back to Ukraine before she got herself murdered like her friend.

Sure, Chris thought with a skeptical shake of his head. No violence in Ukraine. You'll be safe there.

He glanced at his watch and got to his feet.

Time to go.

Time to find out more about Pedro Albarado and what his game was.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR.

"You gotta try an' keep your feelin's out of this," Leon warned Denver as they set off to meet with Frankie and his lawyer.

"For God's sake," Denver said, irritated that Leon was telling her how to behave. "If there's one thing I am, it's professional."

"I know, I know," he said. "Just don't lose your cool."

"I have no intention of doing so," she said crossly. "And kindly stop lecturing me."

They met with Frankie and his attorney in an interrogation room at the jail.

Being in the presence of Frankie Romano reminded Denver of how much she couldn't stand him. There was something about Frankie that screamed "bad news." It came off him in waves. It always amazed her that he and Bobby had once been friends. They were so different, and yet at one time-along with M.J.-they'd been very close, almost like brothers.

How was that possible? Frankie Romano was a fast-talking piece-of-shit drug dealer who lured young girls to his apartment and then stood by while they almost overdosed. He was the lowest of the low. What could he and Bobby possibly have in common?

In spite of her feelings about Frankie, she endeavored to stay neutral as they listened to everything he had to say. He spoke fast, as usual-claiming to know plenty, then refusing to reveal any details until he got a guarantee of protection.

His attorney sat stiffly beside him saying nothing. Both Denver and Leon were well aware that Horace P. Bendon was being paid by Rafael-Alejandro Diego's business partner-and that Horace P. Bendon's loyalty would always be with the Diego family. The moment this meeting was over, Horace would report back to Rafael, and when the Diego camp heard that Frankie was willing to talk, his life would be in danger. The DA's office had already issued an order that Frankie be kept in a cell by himself, away from the general prison population.

If Frankie was bluffing and he didn't have the information he claimed to have, then things could get even worse for him, especially if he was put back into general. His best bet was if he came through with solid information; then he would be sequestered in a hotel with twenty-four-hour protection until they were able to indict Alejandro.

It was very complicated, and it all depended on what Frankie had to give them.

"We're gonna have to talk to the chief deputy DA," Leon said.

"Don't make me wait too long," Frankie answered, his left eye twitching. "Jail food is crap. An' oh yeah," he added, throwing a dirty look at his lawyer, "I'm firing this douche."

"Jeez!" Leon said in the car on their way back to the office. "He sure is one slippery piece of work."

"Told you," Denver said.

"You think he's gonna come up with anythin' concrete?"

"Who knows?"

"Didja get a look at the lawyer's face when he dumped him?"

"Classic," Denver said, lapsing into silence as her thoughts turned to Bobby. It would be so nice if she could discuss the Frankie deal with him. Right now it didn't seem possible, since they appeared to be on a break.

Was a break what she wanted?

As of now-yes.

Or no.

She wasn't sure.

As far as Frankie was concerned, she was torn. Was he bluffing about what information he had, and even more important, could he be trusted to deliver? Leon didn't seem to be so sure, and neither was she.

Only time would tell.

A family dinner was taking place at the Malibu house. Lucky excelled in the kitchen, making pasta and a delicious Bolognese sauce that had been Gino's favorite. She was trying to act as if nothing had taken place, and cooking for the family seemed to be the most normal activity she could think of. Not that she spent a lot of time in the kitchen, but when she did, it was major.

After everyone had helped themselves, she glanced around the table. Lennie was sitting next to Steven. Bobby and the two younger boys were chatting away. Everything was peaceful. She was thankful that the people closest to her were all assembled-everyone except Max.

Had she made a mistake not summoning her daughter home immediately?

Lennie was pissed that she hadn't commanded Max to get on the next plane. "She'll be here soon enough," Lucky had assured him.

This did not satisfy him. He wanted his daughter home, where he considered she'd be safe.

Lucky disagreed; she was convinced that Max was safer staying where she was.

What does safe mean anyway? she thought. Every day is full of risks. Every time you set foot outside, anything can happen.

Gino. On his morning walk.

Gone. Shot. Killed.

Fucking brutally murdered.

She tried not to think about it, but unfortunately, she couldn't stop herself.

Earlier she'd spoken to Chris, who was on his way to the airport in Chicago. After informing her that his contact at face recognition had been unable to come up with a match on the man in the Palm Springs video, he'd added the news that they'd been successful in identifying the Latin man who'd set Bobby up. Chris had a name and a location.

Was it the same man who'd shot Gino?

Was the man a paid assassin who'd been hired to do both jobs?

Lucky shuddered when she thought about what the son of a bitch could've done to Bobby. He'd had him in his power, drugged and helpless. Anything could've happened.

Instead he'd killed the girl.

She didn't get it. Why murder the call girl when Bobby had been the obvious target?

"I'll meet you at LAX," she'd informed Chris. "I'm coming with you."

"Not a good idea," he'd replied. "It's better that I find out if this is our man, or if he's simply the hired help. It's useless for you to waste your time."

"Shouldn't I be there when you talk to him?"

"No, Lucky. I'll keep you informed."

"You'd better."

"Don't worry, I will."

After dinner the boys started talking about going down to the beach and swimming.

"No way. It's too dark and creepy," Lucky pointed out. "Who knows what's waiting out there in the ocean."

"Ew, scary!" Gino Junior said, mocking her. "Big freakin' monsters!"

"Let 'em go," Lennie said, joining in. "If they drown or get eaten, it's no big loss."

"Thanks, Dad," Leo said with an indignant scowl. "Didn't know you loved us so much."

"I'll go with them," Bobby volunteered. "I wouldn't mind taking a swim."

"I thought you were going home," Lucky said.

"I was thinking I might stay over," Bobby responded. "If that's okay with you."

"You know it is," Lucky said, thinking that he and Denver must still be on the outs. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Before Denver, Bobby had sampled a slew of girlfriends. Since being with Denver, he'd seemed more centered. Denver was good for him. But trust was a big part of any relationship, and if his girlfriend didn't trust him ...

Bobby jumped up. "Move it, Steven. You're coming with us."

"You can count me out," Steven said, holding up his hand. "I don't even go in the ocean when it's bright sunlight, let alone at night."

"Lennie?" Bobby said.

"Gonna pass."

"Jeez!" Bobby exclaimed. "What a bunch of chickenshits." He turned to his brothers. "C'mon, kids, let's go."

"I'm no kid," Gino Junior complained. "I'm sixteen."

"You'll always be a kid to me," Bobby teased. "And we're goin' commando-no pants."

"Cool!" Leo chortled.

"Try not to get your little dick bitten off by a shark," Lennie joked. "The big ones come out at night, y'know, sniffing out a tasty piece of meat."

"Dad!" Leo groaned. "You're so lame."

Then they were off, running through the back of the house to the steps that led down to the beach.

"Maybe we should send one of the guards with them," Lucky suggested.

"Forget it," Lennie said. "Bobby'll watch out for them. Let 'em enjoy themselves. Nothing's going to happen."

Gino was enjoying himself when he went out for a walk, Lucky thought dourly. Look what happened to him.

"Okay," she said, wondering how soon she would hear from Chris.

She was ready for action.

Once again, she was ready to take revenge.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE.

Billy didn't call. Billy didn't text. Was Max disappointed?