Fidelity (Infidelity #5)(101)

“You were saying,” Vincent said to Lennox, “that asking for help is new?”

“It is. The situation was out of hand. It became even worse before… before—”

“Before Alton Fitzgerald died,” Vincent said. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you think my men helped you with that out-of-hand situation?”

I looked to Lennox and back to Vincent. Was this a trick?

“We asked,” I said. “Both of us.”

“And I told you it takes time. There’s a process. The first step is understanding the man. My men needed to know who he was.”

My pulse sped up. “Are you saying it wasn’t you?”

“Oren, I haven’t done that in many years.”

Lennox shook his head. “Sir, I came here to let you know that I’m willing to repay the debt.”

“After receiving your call, only days after the news of Fitzgerald’s death, I assumed as much. You see, Lennox, you were in Savannah when he died,” Vincent explained. “You’re family. I would never, Luca would never, our men would never, carry out a job and leave one of our own as a possible suspect.” He leaned forward. “It wasn’t on the news, but I’d imagine that the police… they questioned you? No?”

“They did,” Lennox said. “But I had an alibi.”

“You see, we wouldn’t have been able to guarantee that. You were with the girl?”

“I was. She’d been hurt. She fell earlier that day. The doctors wanted her to spend the night at the hospital. I stayed with her.”

Vincent’s round cheeks rose. “A good man.” He turned to me. “You raised a good man.”

“Thank you. I think Angelina gets most of the credit.” I still couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. “If not you… who?”

He shrugged. “I suspect the woman they have in jail? After all, the police wouldn’t make a mistake, would they?”

With the color returning to his cheeks, Lennox said, “I still asked. I’m in your debt.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t take payment for deeds uncommitted. You and I are even, Lennox. I only ask that you call me more. Get to know Luca again. Maybe bring your girlfriend to dinner? We’d like to meet her.” He turned to me. “There is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”

“Your men,” I volunteered. “Thank you for their time.”

“They brought me something,” he said, standing.

We waited as Vincent waddled over to his desk and came back with a Ziploc bag containing what appeared to be a burner phone.

I reached out, holding the corner of the bag. “What is this?”

“It’s a phone my men found as they escorted someone away from your property.”

The phone was small, black, a standard-issue flip phone. “Do they know who the man was?”

“A scum. A leech. The kind with no loyalty.”

“Did you see what was on here?” I asked. “Did you get any information?”

“A little from the phone. More from the man once my men helped him find his voice.”

“Who did he work for?” Lennox asked.

“A man who will never bother you or your girl again.” He turned to me. “I once heard him described as an abusive fuck.”

Dread connected the pieces of the puzzle. “Fitzgerald. You’re sure?”

“He had Alexandria followed. The man had been doing it for over six months. Have your people look. That phone is full of text messages. Cryptic at best. Luckily my men can be persuasive.”

“That’s how they knew where she was,” Lennox said. “My people figured that Fitzgerald had tracked her phone, but then discovered the phone’s locator was off. We’d scoured our own people, but everyone in our loop came up clean.”

Vincent nodded. “He’s no longer a problem, the man or the one who hired him.”

“How can I thank you?” Lennox asked.

“Dinner. Let us meet your new love.”

“Yes.”





I BALANCED THE shopping bags in one arm as I fumbled with the lock to our apartment with the other. It was hard to believe that Christmas was so close. The year was a blur. With trying to study and pull my grades up, after all we’d been through, I’d finally had a chance to shop.

It wasn’t only the studying; I’d been exhausted since Alton’s funeral. Not tired. I’d been tired before. This was bone-dissolving exhaustion, the kind that left me weak, the kind that sucked each and every bit of energy from my body. My OB/GYN said it was normal and everything was fine. On the positive side, I hadn’t had morning sickness and my appetite was more insatiable than ever.

As a matter of fact, as I turned the key, my thoughts weren’t on the Christmas presents I’d purchased or the maternity clothes I’d seen. It was on whatever Lana had simmering in our kitchen. I may have even daydreamed about it throughout the afternoon. Closing my eyes as I opened the door, I inhaled.

Spices and goodness were what I sought.

Instead, the faint scent of jasmine air freshener from the globe plugged into the wall was all I detected. I opened my eyes. The city’s lights sparkled through the windows and near the sofa a slender tree twinkled with white lights. Together they were the living room’s only illumination. Surprised and bewildered by the lack of aroma, I dropped the bags at the floor, kicked off my boots, and pushed my code into the security system.