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“I thought he is your best friend. Why won’t you talk to him?”
“Because he’ll try to take over like he always does. I usually take his advice without question, but this time, it doesn’t feel right. He’s not hearing me. We’ve been like brothers since kindergarten.”
“You need to fix this rift between you. I’m close to Beth, and I’d do anything for her, but you and Gray are truly family. That’s rare.” She stood up. “Just think about it. There is a balance you and Gray can reach. I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.” She surprised him when she tenderly rubbed his shoulder before she left.
He grabbed his backpack, pulled out a new burner phone, and entered Fontana’s number in messages.
Bash: Charlotte, North Carolina, tomorrow. Call this number when you arrive for a meeting location and time.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maximillian Fontana sat on the tarmac at Hartsfield-Jaxon Atlanta International Airport in a private jet leased under an assumed name, waiting for his pilot to be granted clearance for take-off to Charlotte, North Carolina. He had ditched his security team and taken every precaution to prevent his destination from being exposed. When he spoke with Sebastian Bartoli, he was shocked to learn that someone had sent a hit squad after him. That could only mean one thing: despite all his efforts to keep his meeting with Mr. Bartoli under wraps, someone close to him had leaked the information.
There was never any doubt that convincing Mr. Bartoli to talk to him was going to be a challenge, but with the added threat Mr. Bartoli perceived to his life, it would be almost impossible to gain his trust. That’s why he was stunned when Mr. Bartoli agreed to meet him in Charlotte. Of course, it could have been a misdirection, and he was on his way to Malaysia by now, but Max’s gut said otherwise.
Max flew to Atlanta last night from Manhattan on the pretense he had a meeting with an international investor who wanted to remain anonymous until a deal was signed. If Max’s deception had worked, his two bodyguards were still sitting in the lobby of an exclusive spa northeast of Atlanta. He was supposed to be at an all-day meeting and evening dinner with entertainment, so his guards shouldn’t expect to see him until late.
There were only three people who knew of his desire to meet with Bartoli about writing his biography. His VP of Legal and long-time friend Stephan Gallagher, his assistant Rohan Burman, and his wife Fatima. After speaking to Bartoli, he knew one of them had betrayed him. Although he had a good idea who it was, he needed proof. Now, he was completely on his own with no intention of going back to Atlanta. Let his security team figure it out. For the first time since his college days, he had no clear plan of what came next. Sebastian Bartoli didn’t know it yet, but he held all the cards.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bash received the call from Maximillian Fontana at 1 p.m. They maintained a crisp, business-like tone throughout their brief interaction. The meeting was to take place at a Mexican restaurant located in an outdoor shopping mall next to a community children’s park at 2 p.m. Bash and Morgan had already spent a couple of hours walking the area and checking out the places that would give them the most protection and alternative escape routes. The restaurant was very public, located in the center of the shopping area and directly in front of the park. It had a rear exit in the kitchen that led to an alley. That was where Bash and Morgan stashed their motorcycles behind a dumpster. It gave them a distinct advantage in reaching their transportation quickly because the parking lot was located at the far end of the outdoor mall. Bash paid a substantial fee to the manager for the privilege of using the back exit.
Morgan sat on a park bench immediately adjacent to the restaurant while Bash waited inside at a back table near the kitchen. The plan was for Morgan to text when she spotted Fontana and then meet Bash inside. If he was not alone, they would both leave out the back door. At five minutes till 2 p.m., Bash received her text. Fontana appeared to be alone. A few minutes later, Morgan took a seat beside him.
Bash caught sight of Fontana the minute he entered the restaurant. He was casually dressed in a black leather jacket, khaki wool slacks, a navy sweater, and wore aviator sunglasses. He stopped a couple of feet inside the door and carefully surveyed the large room. Bash wasn’t sure if he was looking for him or possible threats, maybe both. It only took a few seconds for their eyes to lock. Fontana did a quick nod of recognition and headed to the table in long, confident strides. Maximillian Fontana emanated power and class. Every eye in the room was drawn to him.
Bash stood as he watched Fontana approach, feeling a need to meet the man face to face. When he stopped on the far side of the table, he pulled his sunglasses off and slid them inside his soft leather jacket. The two men stared at each other for an uncomfortable length of time before Fontana extended his hand, which Bash accepted with a firm grip.
Maximilian Fontana was a handsome man with thick, wavy, dark brown hair streaked with gray. His smooth olive skin showed he carried his age well, which Bash had read was late fifties, but it was his deep green penetrating eyes that held Bash’s attention. There was a familiarity there, but he was sure they had never met.
“So, we finally meet. Max Fontana,” he said with a pleasant smile.
“Sebastian Bartoli. Please have a seat,” Bash said, surprised that Fontana had introduced himself using his nickname.
“Not to be ungrateful for this chance to meet you, but I would feel more comfortable if my back wasn’t to the door,” Fontana said. “Mind if we relocate outside?”
Bash and Morgan exchanged looks. She shrugged.
“I picked this place for a reason,” Bash said, feeling his spine tingling. Is this a setup? He struggled to keep his voice even. “If we don’t go far, I’ll consider it. Where do you suggest?”
“One of the benches in the park. We won’t be overheard, and it will be easier to keep an eye out for uninvited company.”
He felt Morgan tug on his arm and turned toward her. She cocked her head and pointed to herself. Bash realized he had forgotten to introduce her. Fontana remedied the situation by offering her his hand.
“Max Fontana.”
She gave him a confident shake. “Morgan Skylar. Nice to meet you.”
“Morgan is the unlucky woman who had the cabin next to mine when your well-armed friends showed up. We’ve become fast friends,” he said, winking at Morgan.
Fontana stood. “As I’ve explained, not my friends. May I?” Fontana asked, offering to pull out Morgan’s chair. She slid back in her seat as Bash observed, amazed at how easily the man had come in and taken over. He wanted to object but couldn’t think of a single reason not to agree. ‘You’re blowing up my getaway plan’ didn’t seem to be the appropriate excuse.
“Are you coming, Bash,” she smirked.
“Yeah.”
They found two benches that sat perpendicular to each other, putting their backs to the long side of a storage container store. In front of them was a set of jungle gyms. The Mexican restaurant was still within sight and easy to access.
