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Dalton waved him off. “We’re all sorry Dennis is dead. It is a tragedy, but we have to deal with reality. Just don’t say anything like that outside of these walls.”
“What Bianchi thing?” Jordana asked.
“What?” Rory said.
“You said the ‘Bianchi thing’. What are you talking about?”
Rory glanced at Dalton, and he gave his brother a small nod. No point in hiding it. She would find out sooner or later. After Rory filled her in, Jordana sat silent for a few minutes. “Well, that puts a new spin on things.”
Dalton had to laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.” He glanced at his sister. “Do you know who Lorenzo Bianchi is? The name seems familiar somehow, but I don’t think I’ve met him. Did Dad ever talk about him to you?”
She met Dalton’s gaze and licked her lips. “Um, no, Dad never mentioned him, and I’ve never met him.”
“But?” Dalton prodded.
“It’s got to be a popular name, right? I mean, there has to be more than one Lorenzo Bianchi, right?”
“Why? What do you know?” Rory demanded.
Jordana swallowed and her eyes darted around the room. She let out a long breath. “The only Lorenzo Bianchi I know of lives in Tuscany. He used to date a famous actress. That’s how I know him. He was all over the Internet when they were dating.”
“What aren’t you telling us?” Dalton asked. His sister was holding something back. Something big. His gut knotted.
“Lorenzo Bianchi is the first-born son of Danillo Bianchi, head of the Fabrizi crime family. He’s one of the biggest mobsters in Europe.”
* * *
After dropping her bombshell, Jordana left with Rory. Rory was going to sleep in her room tonight, for which Dalton was thankful. It had been a bitch of a day for everyone, and Rory might need a bit of help getting through.
Dalton lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. His body hurt a bit in places from the accident. Accident. Not an accident. From the intentional hit to push him off the road. But that was a good thing, right? Didn’t that mean he was correct and someone did loosen the screws that led to Moore’s accident? It had seemed like a good idea at the time to talk to the world about his suspicions, but now he was having serious doubts.
And then there was the will. He’d told his siblings there was no way it could be the same Lorenzo Bianchi since it was probably a popular name in Italy. Besides, he’d reasoned, when would their father have met Bianchi, the well-known mobster?
But deep in his heart, he knew it was all a lie. Lorenzo Bianchi was now fifty-one percent owner of Hughes Racing. He had no idea why his father wanted to screw his kids so badly but he knew—like fundamentally knew—that Connor Hughes had done this knowing full well what it would mean for his children.
Dalton spent the rest of the night trying to find a solution, a way for him and his siblings to get something out of the company before it all went to hell, but there was no way out. They were already in Hell. The most important thing they could do now was keep moving, and maybe they could find a way out on the other side.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Greer allowed herself to linger in bed a little longer. Normally, she was up at six. Today, it was already after seven, and she had no intention of getting out of bed until eight. Most of the drivers would be done with breakfast and at the track by that time. She wanted to eat her breakfast in peace before going to Red Bull Ring and informing Dalton Hughes she was there to investigate Dennis Moore’s death.
Her news would certainly lead to an argument. He did not want her there, but her job was to investigate before her company paid out on the claim. That’s how this business worked. However, the idea of facing Dalton made her heart pound and her stomach roll. What she did to him all those years ago had been so unfair. It had been harsh, and maybe even mean, but it was what she needed to do at the time.
Still, it must have hurt him. She hurt him, and he wasn’t going to just forgive her. In the end, she didn’t need his forgiveness. She just needed him to let her get on with her job and stay out of her way. Fat chance. Dalton wasn’t the type of guy to do either of those things. He had to be involved in everything.
She rolled over and faced the window. She’d wait a little longer. Just because she had to face him didn’t mean she had to do it first thing. If memory served, and the sudden stutter of her heart last night proved that it did serve, Dalton Hughes was not a morning person. She’d let him have his coffee and get to the track. Once he got settled and into the day, then she’d approach him.
Dalton had been royally pissed last night in the hallway. Enough anger had radiated off him to overheat an engine. A new will might do that to a person, never mind the day he’d already had. Her breath caught when she thought about how awful he must feel. Connor Hughes was not the nicest man. She and Dalton had had that in common—fathers who were assholes.
Sighing, she stretched and pushed up into a seated position. She missed racing. A lot. The thought of being at the track and not being able to get into a racecar was painful. It was a sort of punishment. She’d vowed to herself she would never race again after what her father had done. She hadn’t spoken to him in almost seven years. Being at the track brought it all back, the good and the bad.
The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could put it all back in its place she reminded herself. With that thought, she dragged herself out of bed and got into the shower.
Twenty minutes later, Greer rolled into the dining room and came to an abrupt halt. The room was full of drivers. Apparently, the practice sessions didn’t start as early as she thought. Shit. Picking her way through the crowd, she found a seat in the corner and ordered coffee from the waiter.
She went across the hallway into the room where a buffet had been set up and filled her plate. She had just sat back down and was all set to dig in when Gus walked up to her table.
“Hey, sunshine,” he greeted her.
