Chapter Thirty-seven

Elliott propped his feet up in front of the fire at Farallon Vineyards and watched Alex pour them cognac. His half brother. All these years and Elliott had never suspected. Unfuckingbelievable!

Elliott’s body seemed limp, drained. The agony of watching Aldo die had sapped all his energy, yet his brain was charged—full of life, full of questions. The initial shock of learning about Brody had worn off, and he actually liked having a twin, especially one as talented as Brody.

Alex was different.

They had known each other all their lives. No one had ever spoken of it, but there had been a rivalry between them. The vineyard had meant everything to their fathers, and the men had been determined to have their sons follow in their footsteps.

Unquestionably, Alex was the star. On his own, he’d taken a nothing vineyard and transformed it into the best-known boutique winery in the country. True, he’d had backing from two software moguls who had nothing else to do with their billions, but Alex deserved all the credit. Even with unlimited financing, many vintners had failed.

Elliott liked to think of himself as untried. A late bloomer. He’d been nothing more than an employee while his father had been alive. He’d struggled with Gian to implement the most basic innovations like conveyor belts. He’d ordered software to control yeast additives only after his father’s stroke had forced Gian to allow Elliott to assume a larger role in the business.

Alex handed him the brandy snifter with an inch of Le Paradis Cognac in it. He clinked his glass against Elliott’s. “Here’s to my father, last of the great riddlers.”

Elliott savored the expensive cognac, letting it linger on his tongue the way he would a fine cabernet, then slowly swallowing. A mellow glow warmed his throat and worked its way into his stomach, relaxing him.

“Your father was the best. No two ways about it,” Elliott said.

Alex slid into the suede chair across from Elliott. “Dad told me he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes scattered over Hawke’s Landing. Is it all right with you?”

“Of course. Should we arrange for a helicopter or a hot air balloon?”

“A hot air balloon.” Alex slapped his thigh and chuckled. “Perfect. I never would have thought of it.”

They sipped their cognac in silence, staring into the low-burning fire. Suddenly, Elliott was sorry for all the years they’d lost. They were brothers raised on the same land, loving the same man, but they hardly knew each other.

“I apologize for seeming standoffish. I’ve always been a little jealous of you,” Elliott confessed.

A flash of humor sparked in Alex’s eyes, temporarily making him appear less sad. “I envied you. Your name. Your looks. Your car. Your house.” His voice took on an edge that hadn’t been there. “Don’t you see? Gian manipulated the situation. He wanted it that way.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Sure as hell, my father didn’t have a clue. I think Gian was slightly off, if you don’t mind me saying so. He liked to play with the people around him. He never loved anyone but himself.”

Elliott asked the question that had been troubling him since he learned that his mother had been Aldo’s wife. “Do you think he loved Mother? At least in the beginning?”

Alex set his glass down, leaned forward and braced his forearms against his knees so he was looking directly into Elliott’s eyes. “Come on. You’re a guy. Haven’t you had dynamite sex with a woman you would never marry?”

“Of course, but I would never have sex with a friend’s wife and then desert her.”

“You know what Maria once told Dad? She thought Gian deliberately had the affair with Mother to break up the marriage.”

“What?” As much as Elliott loved and respected Maria, this sounded absurd.

“It’s not as out there as it sounds. Italian machismo being what it is, Gian knew Dad would divorce Mother if he found out. What Gian didn’t count on was her getting pregnant and falling hopelessly in love with him.”

“Why would he do that?” There had been little love lost between Elliott and his father, but he couldn’t imagine Gian deliberately breaking up a marriage.

Alex picked up his glass and swallowed a bit more cognac. “Gian had to be the king, the center of attention. He didn’t dare let you run the vineyard. You might do better than he had.”

There was a kernel of truth in this, Elliott admitted to himself. “He never let your father travel and represent the winery.”

“He didn’t want anyone to get the credit except himself.”

Even though it was a sacrilege, Elliott swilled the last of the cognac, instead of savoring it the way a connoisseur would. “You know Maria was in love with Aldo.”

“Yes,” Alex replied. “I knew. It seems to be our fate to love the wrong person.”

Elliott knew Alex was referring to himself, but he didn’t think he should ask what he meant. He tried to smoothly change the subject. “Maria’s home alone. The others have the night off. I should call and see if she’s okay.”

Walking over to the phone behind the bar Alex told him to use, Elliott’s thoughts turned to the future. “You’ll have to get financing somewhere else, if you still plan to buy Farallon.”

“I’ll worry about it later. After I’ve taken care of Dad.”

Alex’s melancholy tone depressed Elliott even more. After his own father’s death, all he could think about was Hawke’s Landing. Since when had things been more important than people?

He punched in the number and Uncle Tito answered. The vultures are circling, Elliott thought. “Is Maria there?”

“Yes, but she had a headache and went to bed. When are you coming home?”

Elliott hesitated. He and Brody had agreed Elliott should spend the night with Alex. Not only would it give them a chance to reestablish their relationship, but they could use the time to plan the funeral. Something in the back of Elliott’s mind warned him that something was wrong.

Good old Aunt Gina was as Machievellian as they came. Aldo’s death would give her an even bigger share of Hawke’s Landing. She was up to something.

“I’ll be there soon.”

Brody pulled up the drive and parked in front of the dark carriage house. Evidently Tori wasn’t home. He’d left the restaurant, cutting off the celebration and leaving them to finish their dessert and coffee.

Could life get any stranger?

He sure as hell hoped not. He’d been hit by one revelation after another until his life had not only been turned upside down but inside out as well.

Nothing was ever going to be the same.

He desperately wanted to discuss it with Tori, which was a first. He’d never felt the urge to talk anything over with another person. His whole life he’d been an insular man who kept his own counsel. When had it changed?

Once he would have fought the change, but now he welcomed it. He wasn’t necessarily a great believer in genetics, but circumstances lately had prompted him to reevaluate. Even though they had been raised apart, he and Elliott were alike in many ways. Alex wasn’t as closely related, but he was very much like Brody. That was the good news.

The bad news was Brody suspected he might be too much like Gian Hawke. From all he’d learned, the man was antisocial in the extreme. He’d isolated himself and died never having loved anyone.

Brody refused to allow that to happen to him.

“Where is she, boy?” he asked Piny as he got out of the car and Tori’s Labrador bounded up to greet him, tail beating the air.

Piny at his heels, he knocked on the door just in case. No one answered. Odd, he thought. Tori knew he was meeting the investigator. She was anxious to learn what the woman wanted.

Brody rushed toward the kitchen, but since it was late, he wasn’t surprised to see it was dark inside. He noticed a light in Lou’s suite upstairs. He charged up the back stairs to the private entrance and knocked.

“Hi,” he said when Lou came to the door in his robe. “I’m looking for Tori.”

“She isn’t with you?” Lou’s eyes widened. “I thought that’s where she was. She hasn’t come home from work.”

“I went by her office. She isn’t there.”

“Tori always calls. I hope she hasn’t had trouble with her car.”

Something inside Brody clenched like a tight fist. He didn’t want to alarm Lou, but Tori could be in trouble. “Let me drive around. I’ll keep you posted.”

Brody raced back to the Porsche and jumped in nearly catching Piny in the door. “Okay, boy. Hop in.”

The dog leaped in and Brody roared off. He drove back into St. Helena and swung by Tori’s office again in case she’d slipped out for a sandwich and had returned. The office was still dark.

Not quite sure where he was headed, Brody drove down Main Street. He tried to think like a woman, being totally illogical and throwing caution to the wind.

Rachel’s computer.

The little devil was sifting through Rachel’s computer files. Without him. He’d told her to wait for him, but had she ever listened?

Worrying about Tori, he shoved what he had learned at dinner to the back of his mind. What if Rachel found Tori checking her computer? All bets were off. No telling what Rachel might do.

The road to Hawke’s Landing was dark and lonely, the way it had been the night of the accident. Brody floored the gas, taking every curve at breakneck speed. This Porsche glided through every turn effortlessly.

As he drove up to the house, Brody noticed the Barzinis’ Bentley parked near the front door. Rather than run into them and have to waste time making small talk, Brody drove back to the road and found the service drive that led to the caverns.

“There’s her car,” he told Piny when his headlights flashed across the car concealed by the side of the road.

He drove the Porsche onto the soft shoulder and parked in front of Tori’s car. “Come on,” he said to Piny. “Let’s see what she’s up to.”

The Labrador at his side, Brody walked down the dark trail to the winery. No light was on in the reception area, he noticed through the glass, but there was a faint glow coming from a computer screen. He punched the security code into the keypad and the lock clicked open.

Something on the floor just inside the entrance caught his eye. A flashlight. Why would someone be using it instead of turning on the lights? Could Tori have dropped it? He shoved it in his back pocket and walked toward Rachel’s office. He turned on the lights as he went, listening for any sound. The only noise was the low trickle of water seeping through the limestone.

The door to Rachel’s office was open, but no one was inside. Piny dashed up to the office chair, his tail chopping the air like a machete. He sniffed the seat and whined, his tail going even faster.

“Was Tori here?” he asked.

Piny kept sniffing the chair and wagging his tail. Brody decided she’d gone up to the house, but it was late at night and he was too tired to make small talk with the Barzinis. He picked up the telephone, opting to call and ask for Tori. He’d tell her to meet him at the car.

He pressed nine for an outside line but didn’t get a dial tone. The phones were out, but not the electricity.

He hesitated. There might be a plausible explanation, but something didn’t feel right. Tori had to be in the house. He turned off the light.

“Come on, Piny. Hurry.”

The dog trotted out of the room, still wagging his tail. Brody stopped to open the door to Aldo’s office. It was dark, but Brody flicked on the lights, not certain what he expected to find. It was empty and lonely, a silent reminder of a man who’d spent most of his life here. He quickly turned off the light.

“You left your mark, Aldo,” he said as he closed the door. “It wasn’t on Hawke’s Landing as much as it was with two great guys—Alex and Elliott.”

Never one to feel sentimental, Brody surprised himself by swallowing and finding his throat seemed thick. He started to walk back toward the entrance, then realized Piny was trotting in the opposite direction toward the inner caverns.

“This way, boy. Come on.”

Piny stopped and cocked his head at Brody, ears up.

“Let’s find Tori.”

Hearing her name, the dog loped off in the opposite direction into the darkness. Brody bit back a curse, then stopped to think. Piny had a great nose. He’d found his way along the fire trails from his home to Hawke’s Landing to be with Tori.

He whistled as quietly as possible. “Come, boy.”

The dog emerged out of the darkness at the far end of the tunnel. He stopped waiting for Brody, tail still wagging. Apparently, Piny didn’t sense danger, but Brody remained cautious. Great nose aside, Piny was a big zero in the watchdog department.

He caught up to the dog and put his hand on the Labrador’s collar. “Run Silent” was the SEAL motto. If something was back in the caves, he had no intention of announcing their approach.

With the other hand, he pulled out the flashlight, flicked it on, but captured the beam of light in his hand so it glowed between his fingers. He had no idea where Piny was leading him, but he mentally brought up a map of the caverns from his previous visit.

Piny guided him deeper and deeper into the Byzantine labyrinth of caves and tunnels. Brody’s nose told him that they must be near the most remote storage area. The moist, dank smell became rife with mildew and the ceiling was lower here.

“Hold it,” he whispered.

Brody pulled on the dog’s collar to stop him, thinking he heard something. It was Piny’s tail thumping against the wall in the narrow stone passage. He picked up another sound.

He reached down and put his and on Piny’s tail. He strained to detect the noise again. Yes! It seemed to be a muffled rumble.

Machinery?

No. This part of the caverns was where the sparkling wines were left to age for years. Something else was making that sound. From his years of high risk missions, he judged the source of the noise to be some distance away.

Hand on Piny’s collar, he edged forward, recalling a turn in the tunnel somewhere near this point. He came to a curve in the wall and switched off the flashlight. He shoved it into his back pocket again, listening intently.

Muffled voices.

What would people be doing way back here in the dead of night? There might be a reasonable explanation, but he was damned if he could come up with one. What he detected was a male voice.

He inched forward, one hand on Piny’s rump to keep him from wagging his tail. Instead the dog shook his whole backside, obviously recognizing the voice or smelling Tori.

Rounding the corner, a dim shaft of light brightened the low-ceilinged tunnel enough to see into the cave where vintage wines were aged. Tori had her back to a tower of bottles, her face pinched and drawn. Gina Barzini stood nearby, a gun in her hand.

Son of a bitch.

Blinding fury seared through his body, and only his professional training kept him from charging into the room. At least one other person, the speaker, was in there with her. Stop, he told himself. Assess the situation.

“You won’t get away with killing us.”

Christ! Elliott was talking. Two people he cared about were about to die.

“Ha! You think you’re so smart.”

Lorenzo Barzini. Was he armed? Brody wondered. One gun or two? It made a huge difference in the way he tackled this.

“Kill them. Why are you wasting time?”

Another male voice. It took Brody a second to place it. Tito Barzini. Okay, it figured. The whole Barzini family was together.

“I need to angle the shot just right,” Lorenzo replied. “Why waste any more of our wine than necessary?”

Shit! There was his answer. Two guns. Lorenzo must also have a gun.

“Brody will never let you get away with killing us,” Tori said, her voice surprisingly calm. “He’ll track you down.”

Bless you, Tori, he thought—for having faith in me.

“Move over there by the half empty case,” Lorenzo ordered. “It’s a good place to die, bitch.”