“Why would he do that?” Enzo asked, confused. “Either he’s the world’s worst criminal or he doesn’t care if he’s found.”
“That’s exactly what we thought, too. What person wouldn’t care? Unless they were living on borrowed time.”
Enzo stared. “What do you mean?”
“We subpoenaed Barto’s medical records on a hunch and it panned out—the man is dying. He has stage-four pancreatic cancer.”
“Cancer?” Enzo repeated, feeling sick to his stomach for the boy he’d once known. Barto had been a boy of only three years old when he and Vincent had parted ways. It was before CoCo had been born. That would make Barto around thirty-seven if his math was correct. Way too young to die of cancer. He knew Vincent had died several years back and he’d wanted to attend the funeral but hadn’t worked up the courage. “Where is he now?”
“We had him at a run-down apartment complex but he’s gone now and worse, he’s left a body behind.”
Enzo felt the blood drain from his face. “A body?”
“A mercenary drifter who had a reputation for doing favors for people. My guess is that Barto hired him to scare your daughter, or worse, kill her. But either way, he’s not talking now. However, that means that Barto is done waiting. We’re going to need the location of your daughter. I think it’s time to put her in FBI custody for her own safety.”
Enzo didn’t know how to handle this new information. Had his pride and ambition started this wheel in motion so many years ago? And now that Barto was twisted and vengeful, how could he not shoulder the burden of that responsibility? “Maybe if I could talk to Barto, get him to see reason,” he said, knowing that the time for that conversation was likely lost. He should’ve done the right thing. He should’ve made things right before it’d come to this. His heart heavy, he said, “He was a good boy. I don’t understand how things could’ve changed so much.”
The agent, not interested in the past, shrugged. “Who’s to say? Mr. Abelli, I know you hired a private protection service but they’re out of their depth at this point. Barto is using whatever resources he has left for one purpose—to destroy your life, and that puts your daughter right in his sights. We’d feel more comfortable if your daughter was in custody so we can focus on finding Barto.”
He sighed. The agent was right. He couldn’t take chances anymore, particularly if Barto was determined to go down in a hail of gunfire.
Enzo nodded slowly, wrote down the address Rian had given him and slid it over to the agent. “She’s there. Go get my daughter before Barto finds her.”
The agent nodded and departed, leaving Enzo with a deeply saddened heart and a weight he could barely stand. He pulled his desk drawer open and pulled out an old, faded black-and-white picture of him in his younger days, standing with Vincent, two dashing young men with the future in their eyes and ambition in their hearts.
“Mi dispiace, Vincent.” I’m sorry, old friend.
Was there any way to make amends before it was too late? He didn’t know how but perhaps it was time he tried.
22
COCO AWOKE, EAGER to start the day—a feeling she’d never actually enjoyed before—and rolled over to awaken Rian with a passionate kiss that ended with a mischievous smile. God, he was gorgeous. Those sleepy eyes and stubborn mouth were enough to send her into orbit. There must be something magical about the Bradford Ranch because since arriving she’d been nothing but happy.
“What’s that for?” he asked, smiling, still half-asleep. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“I can’t wait to get up, get moving and start the day. Want coffee?” She started to hop out of bed but he caught her hand and pulled her back. “Oh! Rian!” she dissolved into a fit of giggles when he rubbed his stubble across her neck.
“What’s the rush?” he asked, his arm wrapped around her belly and holding her close. She could get used to this. He squinted at the morning sun streaming into the bedroom and sighed as if remembering there was work waiting for him. “There are some things I don’t miss about the country,” he admitted.