Free Loyalty by Ingrid Thoft

face?”
    Fina waved her hand. “It’s fine. No biggie.”
    He led her to a staircase, and she followed him down.
    The house was like Rand’s in that the lower level was actually on the same level as the backyard. She could see a tennis court and pool out back, and a small army of men moving earth in the hot sun. Fina trailed behind Mark as he gave her the tour: a small kitchen, home gym, changing room, hair salon, meditation room, and family room. He took a seat in one of the large recliners in the screening room and gestured for her to sit next to him.
    “Any word on Melanie?” he asked.
    “Nope, but things are heating up for Rand. The police have searched his house and boat.”
    “Pain in the ass cops. I’ve been asking around, but nothing’s come up.”
    “I’ve been asking around, too, and apparently I’ve pissed someone off.” Fina touched her hand to her scratched face. “I was jumped the other night and told to mind my own business.”
    “That’s what happened to your face,” Mark stated rather than asked. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
    “Nah, I’m fine, but any guesses who might be responsible?”
    Mark leaned back into the seat and put his arms on the armrests. He caressed the leather. “Italian leather. I had it flown in special from Milan.”
    “It’s beautiful.”
    Mark gestured toward Fina’s face. “Nobody comes to mind. Since we talked, I’ve put out some feelers, but I haven’t heard anything. If my poking around set this in motion . . .” Mark gripped the armrests.
    “I’m sure that’s not what happened. I’m just trying to cover all the bases.” Fina stood up and looked around the room. “Furnished basements bring back a lot of memories.”
    In high school, Fina, her brothers, and all their friends were a tribe of nomads moving from one rec room to another, drinking, getting high, and hooking up. They were like street peddlers: If a parent got wise to their activities, they just packed up and moved to the next location. Mark was often a part of these gatherings.
    “Don’t remind me. My kids better not do that.” Mark stood up.
    “Good luck with that,” Fina said, and followed him out of the room.
    He walked her out to her car and stood in the open door as she got in. “I’m going to talk to some more people,” he said. “Hopefully, I’ll be able to dig up some useful information.”
    “Thanks, Mark. I appreciate it.”
    Fina started her car. Before turning out of the driveway, she looked in her rearview mirror. Mark stood on the flagstone patio, his hands deep in his pockets, watching her leave.

    Fina got chicken nuggets at a drive-thru and sat in the parking lot eating her lunch. She called Haley and left a message on her voice mail. Dante’s claim about seeing her at the club was not good. Haley didn’t do particularly well around booze and bad people; her impulse control and decision-making skills were poor to nonexistent under the best of circumstances. Fina needed to get a handle on the situation, pronto.
    Milloy wasn’t picking up, either, nor was Cristian. She was dialing Rand when her phone beeped. Her phone company contact had tracked down the mystery number from Melanie’s kitchen, but it was going to cost her double. Did Fina still want it?
    “Yes, I want it. Goddamnit, Shirley. I hate it when you screw me like this.” Fina sucked on her diet soda.
    “Oh honey, it’s not me, it’s the marketplace.”
    “Fine. What’s the address?”
    The number was a business listing in Framingham for Zyxco, Inc. Fina popped the last nugget in her mouth, plugged the address into her GPS, and headed west.
    It only took her fifteen minutes to find the right street, but another ten to find the actual office park. The low-slung buildings made of brick and concrete hugged the swell of the small hills on which they sat. There were intermittent signs that gave little hint to the business conducted inside; Sharwin Associates, TBK United, American Metrics. The