Seduced by Sunday
Page 61

The delivery truck they’d followed up the road was now parked in front of the largest building. Meg called it a barn in her head, but it was probably where the grapes were brought to process.
Their vantage point wasn’t great, but she could still see the activity clearly enough. Listening in on the conversation, however, was moot.
There was some kind of heavy equipment brought to the truck, where one of many barrels was lifted from it and onto a lift of some sort. The three men involved in the transfer were careful with the barrel. It was obvious the thing was full.
“Since when does a winery bring in barrels of wine?”
Val said nothing, just stared.
The process went through several loads and then the cases started to come. Crates of wine were stacked up on the loader and transferred into the barn.
“Seen enough?” she asked.
Val’s jaw visibly tightened before a curt nod answered her.
They inched back until the barn was out of sight, and then they moved quickly down the hill, around the olive trees, and back toward the car.
Val was catching up, figuratively in any event. In an effort to show she understood how hard it must be for him to accept that his future brother-in-law duped him into believing he was something he was clearly not, Meg held on to Val’s hand.
He squeezed it.
And she squeezed back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I need to know where they are, Lou.” Back at the hotel, Val found himself cleaning up a mess.
“Mr. Picano said it was a short trip.”
“Where? Do we have any idea where?” Val already knew the answer, but he couldn’t help but ask anyway.
“It’s a private yacht. There’s no saying where they are. Could be a few miles off our shore . . . Cuba.”
Val’s head started to pound. “Our number one priority right now is Gabi. We need to find her.”
“Missing persons report . . . abduction?”
Yes . . . no! “Not yet. Let’s learn what we can without the authorities.”
“You got it, Boss. Anything else I can do?”
“No. Call, anytime.”
Val’s employee hung up and all that remained was worry.
Margaret moved behind him, fresh from her shower, and ran her hands over his shoulders. “We’ll find her.”
A knock on the door indicated room service with their meal.
Val excused himself with a squeeze of Margaret’s hand for a quick shower while she answered the door. They had both emerged from the vineyards looking like farmhands.
In any other circumstance, Val would have appreciated the adventure. The fact that he hadn’t thought of the day-to-day life on his island since he left was a strange relief. It wasn’t until Margaret had informed him of the true nature of Alliance that he understood the stakes at risk.
Only now, he was worried about something, someone, more precious.
Wearing silk pajama pants and a hotel bathrobe, Val joined Michael and Margaret for dinner in their suite.
Michael and Margaret were eating their salads and sipping one of the many bottles of wine they’d purchased during the day.
“Feel better?” Margaret asked him.
“Cleaner.”
She offered a half smile in understanding.
Michael poured a glass of something red for Val to drink. “We’re talking motive.”
Val hesitated when he lifted the glass. “How is it an actor, a hotelier, and the office manager of a matchmaking firm are talking motive?”
“Because we know the players,” Margaret told him.
“And when you figure out the motive, you have a chance at catching the bad guy.” Michael waved his fork in the air. “I’ve been in enough movies with the same general theme.”
“Movies.” Not real life, Val mused.
“Let’s not forget Judy,” Margaret said to Michael.
Michael’s expression sobered.
“What about Judy?” Val asked.
Margaret picked at her salad before pushing it aside and digging into her main course. “A few years past, Judy had a stalker.”
Not the answer Val had expected.
“Who eventually kidnapped her.”
Val’s fork hesitated over his food.
Michael and Margaret exchanged glances. All hints of smiles fled in an instant.
“I met Judy . . . that’s Rick’s wife, right?”
Margaret nodded. “She survived. But . . . well, that’s not important, what’s imperative is that we think of this logically. What does Picano have to gain by marrying your sister? What does he have to gain by passing off someone else’s wine as his? The man has money, but not enough income to account for every dollar he spends . . . why is that?” Margaret kept rattling. “Is he an American? Is he an Italian national? Could he need Gabi for citizenship? Does she have money he’s after? Was he the man behind the pictures? Does he want leverage against you?”
Val saw the pain behind Margaret’s eyes and realized she’d been in this position before.
Instead of making her relive her past, Val tried to answer the questions he could. “Alonzo is Italian. Marrying my sister could eventually pave his way to citizenship, but he’s never said a thing about wanting that. If anything, he liked that she was an American while he based himself here in Italy.”
“But if he doesn’t stay at the winery, where does he live when he’s here?” Michael asked.
Margaret sighed and picked up her fork again while she listened.
“I couldn’t tell you that,” Val said between bites.
“I’ll call Rick and Judy in the morning with an update,” Margaret said. “Maybe Rick can find out.”