Franco's Fortune (Redemption Book 2) by Cara Marsi Page B

“You guys on your way?”
    “Well,” he drawled. “Not yet. Our man has decided he
needs a workout. I’m drivin’ him to the gym. I’ll get him home in a
few hours.”
    “Harris, for God’s sake, Franco was attacked last
night. He needs to rest, not go to the gym.”
    “I know, darlin’, but the man’s head is harder than
one of those cement pilings stuck in the Delaware. I’ll call you
when we’re on our way from the gym.” He chuckled. “What time should
Brewer pick you up tomorrow for your shopping excursion?” Brewer, a
security expert and ex-SEAL friend of Harris, would guard Jo and
Mitzi when they shopped.
    Jo wrinkled her nose. “How about ten?” She hated the
thought of a full day of shopping. And now that she’d been
threatened, she needed her own security when she left the house.
That sucked too. Brewer would drive Mitzi and her to the upscale
King of Prussia mall and stay with them.
    After ending the call, she hoisted herself onto one
of the high stools surrounding the center island. No sense starting
dinner yet. With a little time on her hands, she decided to make a
note of everything that had happened to Franco in the last few
weeks. He might not realize it, but he held the key to whoever was
threatening him. She had to force him to think, really think, about
who might want him dead.
    Two hours later, as the aroma of tomato and basil
from the sauce simmering on the stove wafted over the kitchen, Jo
inhaled the calming, homey scent while she filled a large pot with
water and placed it on the stove. She’d made a large salad, enough
for at least four. Hopefully she’d convince Harris to stay and eat
with them. She enjoyed the older man’s company, and his presence
would help diffuse the sexual tension that always heated the air
around Franco and her.
    She’d reached for the knob to ignite the burner
under the pot when the doorbell rang. Jo froze. Dread pumped
through her. Harris hadn’t called yet to say they were on the way,
and he and Franco would never ring the bell. Pulse racing, she
grabbed her gun from the counter and headed for the front door.
Damn historical society with their restrictions. Franco’s house
needed security cameras front and back.
    She approached the door cautiously and looked
through the peephole, then released an agitated breath. Lena and
Dan Callahan stood outside. What were Franco’s parents doing here?
She put the gun behind her in the waistband of her pants and
disengaged the security alarm, then opened the door. She glanced
quickly around. The street was deserted.
    “Lena and Dan, what a nice surprise.” Jo moved aside
to let them in. It wasn’t safe for any of them to stand outside for
too long.
    Lena, slender and sophisticated, greeted Jo with a
big smile. “Jo, how nice to see you again.”
    “You too,” Jo said, with another nervous glance
outside. “Come in.”
    Dan, his hair now completely gray, leaned on a cane
and nodded at her. While Lena helped Dan into the house, Jo bit
back her impatience, her attention glued to the street as she held
the door open. If anyone was out there…
    When the older couple was finally inside, Jo
hurriedly locked the door, then leaned against it. By the
frightened look on Lena’s face, Jo knew she’d noticed the gun when
Jo turned to close the door.
    “Go on into the living room,” Jo said. She needed to
get Franco’s parents’ thoughts away from the blatant reminder of
their son’s troubles. While they headed into the living room, Jo
reset the security alarm.
    Lena chewed her lip but said nothing as she took her
husband’s elbow and helped him into the other room.
    Pity stirred in Jo as she watched Dan’s shuffle. He
was far from the vibrant corporate mogul she’d first met five years
ago. The stroke had taken its toll, making Dan’s speech difficult
and his gait slow. But physical therapy helped, and Lena constantly
hovered like a mother hen. Dan’s mind was still sharp, though.
Franco sent him weekly