Chapter 39

Mia

The hallways were covered with the kind of carpet that was laid in squares to be easily replaced. Mouse droppings and dead insects littered the path. Pieces of the suspended ceiling dangled while others were missing, exposing pipes, wires, and a vast network of thick spider webs. I tried to imagine what would be required to make the building livable space—my month timetable seemed suddenly out of reach.

“As I’m sure you read in the description, there are seventeen classrooms, five bathrooms…”

I tried to block out her constant chatter as we stepped into the front-office suite. There wasn’t any furniture. The built-in desks and bookcases were in tatters. Exposed wires led to where computers, televisions, and other technology had once been.

Within one of the bathrooms marked ‘boys,’ the realtor went on about the plumbing. According to her, it was in working order. However, before that could be verified, the city would need to turn on the water. Dante and I exchanged glances at the wall of urinals only inches above the ground. Down one hallway, Rennie opened classroom doors. They were all about the same size. Faded paper covered bulletin boards, and the outlines from where pictures once hung were visible. I was certain that more than once I saw something or many somethings scurry into the shadows.

Our shoes echoed throughout the cavernous gymnasium. Basketball backboards hung folded above, and lines could be seen through the debris on the wood floor.

“The school used this room as a lunchroom too. Let me show you the kitchen.”

Dante and I followed. The kitchen was bigger than I’d anticipated. While many of the appliances had been stripped away, the few that remained gave a good indication of what this room was capable of being again with the right amount of workmanship and money.

Lots of money.

“The building was constructed in 1978,” Rennie said, referring to her tablet. “It is fifty-two thousand square feet. The lot is nearly two acres. It was larger when the school was open, but the city sold off a parcel on the west boundary.”

“We read the specs,” Dante said.

“Yes,” she replied, somewhat flustered that he would interrupt her spiel. No doubt she’d been studying since she learned that there was interest in this old building. “And the asking price is $2.3 million.”

“That was the asking price,” I said. “Mr. Lombardi offered $1.5. If Mr. Barone and I approve of what we see today, we’ll pay $1.5. Cash.”

“I-I,” she stuttered. “I’m not able to speak on behalf of the seller.”

“The seller is the city,” Dante said, flashing his smile. “This project will obviously take money to renovate. No one is going to pay the asking price, or they would have done so years ago. Mr. Lombardi has taken time to negotiate.”

That wasn’t the full truth. Instead of negotiating, it could be better described as pulling strings. A friend of a friend—the way our businesses operated.

“I’ve seen enough,” I said, looking to Dante, silently praying to get away from the disgusting odor. “Shall we let Mr. Lombardi know our thoughts.”

Rennie walked us back to the front of the school, talking the entire way. “You’re right about the work needed. The structure is sound...”

Gulping the fresh air as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, I scanned in all directions, wondering where our soldiers were hiding. Everything was quiet, no one walking on the sidewalks and very few cars. Goose bumps scattered over my arms as I stepped closer to Dante and turned to Rennie. “Thank you. We have an appointment at the title company. Mr. Lombardi will be meeting us there.”

“So, do we have a deal?” she asked, hopeful.

Dante replied, “If Mr. Lombardi’s offer is still acceptable, yes.”

As soon as we were safely in the back seat, I ran my hands over my arms.

“You did great,” Dante said.

“She wasn’t hard to fool. Thankfully, Mr. Lombardi will be doing most of the talking during the closing.” My phone rang. I pulled it from my purse, happy to see Aléjandro’s number. “We’re on the way to the closing.”

“I was watching you go in and out of the school. If I haven’t told you today, you’re beautiful.”

Warmth filled my cheeks as I looked over to Dante, who was looking out the window, pretending he couldn’t hear. “It may take longer to renovate than we hoped.”

“Silas is already working with Hugo, the man who built our bookshelves.”

I grinned, knowing he didn’t say secret room.

“Once the building is ours, they’ll get working.”

“I’m warning you,” I said, “it smells.” I sniffed my shoulder and Dante’s. “I think we smell now too.”

My husband laughed. “This is why you shouldn’t be on the streets and why I shower so many times a day.”

“I’m glad it’s not for another reason,” I said, referencing his showering.

“Me too.”

“Where are you?” I turned in all directions.

“We’re a few cars behind you. Don’t try to find me.”

A sigh of relief loosened the knot in my chest. “I’m glad you’re close.”

“You can’t get rid of me.”

“I’m not trying.”

“Pass the phone to Dante.”

“Okay. Bye.” I handed the phone to my brother. “He wants to talk to you.”

Dante took my phone. “Dante here.”

I was wrong about Dante pretending not to hear. I couldn’t make out what Aléjandro was saying on the other end of the call. Instead, my imagination ran wild as Dante’s posture stiffened, and he lowered his voice.

When he finally handed me back the phone, the call was disconnected. “What was that about?”

My brother’s lips thinned as he pressed them together. “Precaution. Making sure our men are on the same page.” He began sending text messages.

I’d known him my entire life.

Dante might be damn good at lying to other people, but it didn’t work with me. He was being less than truthful.

After a few miles on the freeway, Giovanni pulled into a parking lot in front of a tall building. A quick look out the window reassured me that we were no longer in the middle of nowhere at an abandoned building. We were in the heart of San Diego. People were coming and going, and the parking lot was filled with cars.

Dante sent another text message.

It didn’t take a genius to realize the silent form of communication went to Giovanni in the front seat. He read from his phone, met Dante’s stare in the rearview mirror, and nodded.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice an octave higher.

Dante laid his hand on my thigh. “We’re staying in the car a minute while Giovanni checks something out.”

My palms grew clammy as the goose bumps returned. “Tell me.”