Wine, Tarts & Sex

“It’s not such a bad idea.” Roman had several, including a Canadian one like Janie and Matt.

“I’m not going to sleep a wink tonight,” Janie grumbled. “I don’t know how you can be so calm.”

Roman had meditated on a Japanese mountain for six months once. He knew how to block out the world. An asset in his business-maybe even a necessity. “I’ll stay awake tonight and watch over you and Matt. Will that help you sleep?”

“Maybe you could do something else for me to help me relax,” Janie murmured, gazing at Roman from under her lashes.

Roman grinned. “You got it, babe.”

Thirty-seven

Janie had been staring at the clock on the car dash so long, her eyes were hurting. “God, I’m seeing stars,” she groaned.

“Five more minutes,” Roman murmured, not looking up, his gaze trained on the screen of his laptop balanced on his knees. “It’s almost over, baby. Almost over,” he said under his breath, his fingers poised over the keys. “Get ready. Rudy should be calling soon. Four minutes, twenty seconds and counting.”

Amy was watching Matt at the lake, and Janie and Roman were parked outside Coffee Talk using their Wi-Fi connection, waiting for their two o’clock Wednesday deadline.

“Here we go! He’s early!” Roman rapped out. “Where the hell’s Rudy?”

Just then the phone in Janie’s hand rang, and she put it to her ear.

“Him?” Roman snapped.

“Yes.” Her heart was beating like a drum. Rudy had said, “Go,” and hung up.

“This is it, babe.” Roman’s voice was calm now, his fingers were flying over the keys, keeping time with the string of numbers dancing across his screen. “Come on, come on,” he whispered, as though urging on the person keying in the bank routing numbers on the other side of his computer screen. “Come on, asshole, I’m in a hurry. There, there-yes! A few more digits now, dude, and it’s hel-lo Switzerland,” he muttered, keystroking like a fiend. “Now… now… almost finally… finally… yes, it’s in!” he crowed, hitting the power button hard and snapping the lid shut on his laptop.

He didn’t want anyone to have even an extra nanosecond to pick up their trail.

“Buckle up.” His voice was all business. “We’ll pick up Matt and your luggage and head for the airport,” he added, tossing the laptop into the backseat.

“Is it over? Did it go through?” Janie clamored, dropping the phone. “Tell me this instant!”

“You’re a very rich woman, baby,” Roman said, pulling out onto Main Street. “You have fifty million in your Swiss bank account.”

“I didn’t even have a Swiss bank account before I met you.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he said with his usual restraint. Then he turned and gave her a playful smile. “Happy?”

“Have you ever lived in a trailer?”

“Close-an apartment in a bad part of town.”

“Then you’ll understand when I say I’m over the moon in every possible way! I adore you, absolutely, positively, forever and ever. And I’m taking you on a long vacation to Europe right this very minute!”

“We’ll see.”

She punched him hard. “Don’t you dare say that!”

“Okay, I can be away for a couple weeks anyway.”

“Puur-fect.” Janie had every confidence she could keep him interested longer than two weeks. “Two weeks is just perfect.”

Thirty-eight

Two other people were monitoring the wire transfer. Dan Wygren and Leo’s inside man at the bank. They both saw the routing number for the New York bank being keyed in and waited for the confirmation that the money had reached Janie’s account.

And waited.

And waited.

And… waited.

Herbie Austen murmured, “Crap,” real softly when he realized what had happened.

Dan Wygren sat openmouthed and ashen.

Herbie didn’t really care one way or another. He didn’t have a piece of this major blunder. He was just the pickup man.

Dan immediately went into survival mode. Not that he hadn’t made previous arrangements for fleeing the country. Working for Leo was not for the faint of heart. Picking up the phone, he rang Leo. “We’re good,” he said cryptically, offering the prearranged signal for a successful transfer. “I’m heading downtown to check on Herbie.” A few moments later, Dan opened the door of his wall safe and swept its contents into a duffel bag. Zipping the bag, he replaced the curio cabinet displaying his accounting diplomas that hid his safe and, walking past his assistant in the outer office, said, “I’ll be gone for the afternoon.”

An hour later Leo had begun pacing, the further confirmation he’d been expecting to receive from Dan not forthcoming. When he called his accountant’s office, Dan’s assistant could only tell him that Mr. Wygren was out for the afternoon.

A call to Dan’s personal cell phone number informed him that the number was no longer in operation.

At that point Leo began to panic.

He called Herbie at the bank, when he knew never to call Herbie at the bank. But fifty million dollars made one break the rules.

Herbie said curtly, “I’m sorry, he’s not here,” and hung up. Not that he didn’t understand why Leo had been so rash as to call. But that didn’t mean he wanted to risk his future.

After Herbie’s brusque dismissal, unable to breathe, Leo collapsed in a chair and struggled to draw air into his lungs. Christ almighty, was he dying? Was he having a heart attack? Gasping for air, he yelped for Ben.

“A shot-of-whiskey,” he panted when Ben appeared.

“Should I call a doctor? You look”-Ben didn’t want to say like you’re dying-“a little pale.”

“Whiskey,” Leo choked out.

Maybe this is the big one, Ben thought, as he walked to Leo’s wet bar. Maybe Leo Rolf was going to pack it in. Fortunately, he wasn’t required to make life-or-death decisions -only take orders. Sliding aside the frosted glass door that concealed the bar, Ben reached for Leo’s favorite single malt, poured half a glass, carried it back, and placed it in Leo’s shaking hand.

“Fifty million!” Leo muttered, trying to get the glass to his mouth without spilling it all over. Fucking fifty million, and he didn’t even know where it had gone.

Ben wasn’t sure he wanted to know anything about fifty million dollars that had damned near iced Leo, but in the end, curiosity overcame him. “Pardon me?” he said, trying to look caring and concerned.

Leo’s steely gaze locked on Ben. “Don’t you have something to do?” he growled.

Ben swiftly exited the office, knowing Leo was on the mend.

No one could deliver evil-eyed malevolence like Leo.

He was back in fighting form.

The banker on the island of Nauru had done a quick double take when the fifty million he was wiring seemed to flicker for a split second in midtransfer. But the visual flutter was gone before he could seriously question it. Some