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Lapaglia pulled the phone away from Ben.
“—anywhere near them!”
Ben glared as the man listened to his sister’s voice on the other end of the line. A grin spread his thin lips across his darkened face. “Hello, Halliwell. Clever escape back in Torno, carina.” He chuckled, then his grin faded fast. “Careful, Tomlin,” Lapaglia warned with soft menace. “Sounds like you have come to care for the girl.”
The man’s expression of pure pissed-off matched his earlier one when he’d explained why he needed Ben to speak to Halli.
When Eva had brought him breakfast shortly after their first conversation, he’d worked on charming information from her and succeeded when she’d let it slip that the movie star was the man helping Halli. He had no clue how a guy like Trent Tomlin had become involved in this crazy situation, but would be eternally grateful for the help the man gave his sisters.
Rachel’s rescue made it at least three times Tomlin had bested Lapaglia in the past twenty-four hours. No wonder the Italian was pissed. Ben hoped to God
he got a chance to shake Tomlin’s hand when this was over.
“You have your proof, now we make our deal,” Lapaglia said. “We meet tonight. On the lake.”
Ben waited to hear details of this deal and the meeting, but was distracted when Nino and Eva entered the room. He tried to catch Eva’s eye, but beyond one glance, she coldly ignored him. So different from the woman who’d gently washed the blood away after Zucchi finished using him as a punching bag.
Nino said something in Italian and Lapaglia turned to him with a frown. He barked something into the phone, then held a hand over the mouth piece. The three of them conferred softly, their speech rapid and quite heated. Eva threw up her hands in the universal sign of frustration. Lapaglia began to raise the phone, but Nino spoke again.
Both Alrigo and Eva went still. Lapaglia’s face registered interest; Eva’s surprise. After a few more exchanges, Lapaglia cut a hand through the air and lifted Ben’s phone to speak in his heavily accented English once more.
“I have determined your offer is inadequate. If Halliwell wishes to see her brother alive again, I will not only require the video, but additionally, a sum of one million US dollars. Cash.”
Ben’s draw dropped in shock. A million dollars? “We don’t have that kind of money!” he protested.
Lapaglia ignored him, concentrating on the phone in his hand. After a moment, his grin made another appearance. “That is precisely what Benjamin just advised. But you, my friend, have sufficient funds to make the deal.”
Again Ben sat in amazement. He actually expected Trent Tomlin to pay a million dollars for a complete stranger? The man may have been nice so far, but nobody would be willing to help out that much.
So what then, with no one to pay? His parents were in prison. He had no rich friends, and no one besides his sisters would value his life that high. They certainly couldn’t hope to come up with the money. Lapaglia’s next words made him wonder if he’d read his mind.
“You may not believe Benjamin is worth more than a short video of questionable evidence, but I am positive Halliwell would agree with the value I have put on his head.”
A video? That’s what this was all about? Ben thought of Halli filming at the lake. She must’ve seen something other than swans after he and Rachel drove off without her. How many times more would he wish he could go back in time and change that monumental mistake?
Lapaglia grunted into the phone. “Then we have nothing more to discuss and I have no further use for him.”
Ben didn’t think it possible, but his muscles tensed even more when the man’s hand moved to rest on his weapon. He’d known Trent Tomlin wouldn’t agree to pay.
Eva moved forward. Ben noted her expression of protest with surprise. Lapaglia’s gaze narrowed on her and her step faltered, then stopped.
Into the phone, he said, “You screw with my business, I require compensation.” He turned to the window. “Do not play me for a fool. We both know you can get the money.”
Ben couldn’t see his face, but the undercurrent of steel in the man’s voice didn’t bode well for him. He wished to hell he could hear the other half of the conversation, but Lapaglia’s words made it clear Tomlin was stalling.
“I think not. You have twenty-four hours.” Quiet fell in the room. Lapaglia moved aside the curtain to look at the lake. He made a humming noise deep in his throat. “No. However…to prove I am a reasonable man, I will give you until five p.m. tomorrow before I call with additional instructions.”
He flipped the phone shut and pivoted toward Ben. “It appears all of you lucked out when the superstar showed up.”
Ben drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair he was tied to. “Yeah, there’s my silver lining.”
The phone rang in Lapaglia’s hand. He ignored Ben’s sarcasm and checked the display. With a chilling smile, he headed for the door, hand at his side. Just when Ben thought he’d let the call go, he answered. He narrowed his eyes after a moment.
“Si, I will have my men retreat, but…I have no further control over la Polizia. Furthermore, a word of warning…my connections are many. You do this alone. If you seek assistance, I will know, and then neither one of us will have use for your money.”
Another pause, and then the Italian chuckled. “You insist I will pay, but your brother committed suicide, remember? It is no fault of mine he was weak.”
He disconnected the call with a downward slap of the phone against his palm. As if snapping the phone shut flipped a switch, he began an angry tirade in Italian as Nino followed him from the room.
