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“I’ll manage if Fontana keeps his hands and feet in. Right or left?” Bash asked.
“My guts telling me left,” Morgan said.
“Well, mine’s telling me right,” Bash countered. “Left will take us back to the shopping mall.”
“Not if we’re behind it.”
“Fontana agrees with me.”
She shrugged and turned right. “Seats and trays back in the upright position. Turn off your cell phones and hold on to your patooties.”
Ten minutes later, they came out on a narrow road with a chain link fence on the opposite side. Beyond was the welcome sight of a highway. They stopped side by side and took their helmets off.
“It’s a service road. That’s 485 on the other side of the fence,” Bash said with relief. He turned to Max. “I guess your instincts were correct.”
“Your call. I just agreed. The entrance is up ahead.”
“We need to find directions to the storage place,” Bash said.
Morgan already had her phone out and was getting their current location. “Five miles. We take the second exit off 485 and turn right. It’s three miles on the left. Chesterfield Storage.”
“We’re right behind you.”
With the motorcycles safely stored away, everyone piled in a taxi to get to the closest car rental, avoiding the airport. With one quick phone call, Max’s assistant arranged to have a car reserved and prechecked in.
As they stood beside the midsized sedan, Morgan realized they didn’t really have a plan. “Now what?”
“I don’t know if my opinion matters, but I suggest we get out of the city as soon as possible,” Max offered.
Bash’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t going anywhere until we finish our conversation.”
Max held his hands up in a conciliatory manner. “I was referring to all of us. You’re right. You and I have unfinished business. It was merely a suggestion that driving to another town might be the best option. I’m sure the airport is being watched.”
“Did you recognize any of the guys in the black SUV?” Morgan asked Max.
“The driver looked a lot like Enzo’s right-hand man, Bart Spano. Enzo must be the one working with my wife.”
“How do you know?” Bash asked.
“I’ve suspected Fatima was having an affair for months. It didn’t bother me enough to approach her about it if she was discreet. As I said, our marriage is an arrangement. It never occurred to me until now that it might be Enzo. He considers himself a ladies’ man. Gets a kick out of pulling one over on his wife any chance he gets. My cousin Leone is basically a troll. That’s how I know. Enzo had to have given her the tracking devices to put on my phones, although I’m not sure of her motivation. She is wealthy in her own right due to a sizable trust fund from her father. We have an iron-tight prenup if she did need the money. I called her this morning so she knew which phone to tell Enzo to check.”
“Maybe she was blinded by love,” Morgan suggested.
“Doubtful. Fatima is too self-absorbed to fall in love. Could be the attention. She’s been a good companion. I thought we were at least friends. The betrayal stings.”
Bash cleared his throat. “We need to get moving.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The closest city in the opposite direction they figured anyone would expect was Winston-Salem. Max drove while Morgan searched for places to stay the night. They stopped at an old-fashioned diner with a sign promising homemade meals guaranteed to remind them of home. Max had to chuckle because his childhood meals had been prepared by a cordon bleu trained chef.
Once they were seated, their server, a round woman named Millie in a pink uniform, set three 24 oz. plastic glasses of an amber liquid with crushed ice in front of them. Max guessed it was tea.
“How you’uns doin’ this evenin’?” she said with a toothy grin.
“We’re just great,” Morgan said, all perky. “This sweet tea?” She held up her glass.
“Yes, ma’am. On the house, too. You don’t have to pay for a drink with your meal unless you want a soda. One of the perks of eatin’ here,” Millie said, pulling three water-stained menus from her apron and distributing them around the table.
