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

side. Her
stiff muscles protested her movements. The high stool she sat on
didn’t offer much support. She’d be achy all day, but spending the
day doing criminal research held far more appeal than the torture
of trying on clothes and shoes. Still, dressing the part of
Franco’s girlfriend was her job. And she always did her job.
    Turning her attention back to the police reports,
she reread the most disturbing part. No one knew where DiGiacomo
was. She needed to call Logan, run some probables by him, get his
sense, but with the time difference and her morning appointments,
she’d have to wait. More time to clarify her thoughts then. She
refocused on her computer screen.
    One week after DiGiacomo’s release he’d beaten his
wife, Franco’s ex-lover, leaving her with a broken arm and a broken
nose. Then he’d disappeared, about the same time Franco’s house had
been ransacked. A warrant had been issued for his arrest on assault
and parole violation.
    Jo massaged her now-aching temples. After another
thorough read-through, she wrote an email to Detective Morelli
citing her suspicions and requesting a picture of DiGiacomo. None
of the reports contained his picture. She hit “send” then sent an
email to Logan and Harris telling them her findings, and that she’d
call Logan later. She rubbed her hands together. She had a lead, a
good one. They’d find DiGiacomo and Franco would be safe.
    <><><>
    Clothes, shoes, handbags, lingerie were strewn all
over the bed and on the desk and chairs in the large guest bedroom.
Sheesh. What was she going to do with all this stuff? The sight
made Jo dizzy. Franco had been more than generous, giving her his
credit card and free rein to buy whatever she’d wanted. Despite
that, she’d tried to hold back, to be frugal. But Mitzi would have
none of it. Acting like a fairy godmother on steroids, the older
woman and the personal shopper at Neiman Marcus had dragged Jo into
almost every department at the King of Prussia store.
    Brewer had dropped her off forty-five minutes ago.
Jo expected Franco back from work any minute.
    A ping on her phone alerted her to a message. She
grabbed her phone off the nightstand and looked down at the screen.
Yes! A message from Detective Morelli thanking her for the
information and promising to investigate the DiGiacomo lead
immediately. He’d included a picture of Salvatore DiGiacomo. She
narrowed her eyes at the screen. Her pulse spiked. This could be
their perp. She studied the mug shot of the intimidating guy with
the squiggly eyes and buzz cut. She wondered what his wife had seen
in him. She had no doubts what the woman had seen in Franco. Most
red-blooded women from eighteen to eighty would succumb to Franco’s
charms. Even me . Ignoring her wayward thoughts, she
forwarded the picture to Logan and Harris.
    A few minutes later, her phone rang. Harris. “Hey,
man, are you here?”
    “We’re outside.”
    Jo raced down the stairs and disengaged the security
alarm.
    The front door opened and Franco slipped in.
Although it was Saturday, Franco had put in a full day at work, and
then some. At her insistence, his full security force had been in
the building too. It was close to seven o’clock now. The
fun-at-all-costs playboy she’d seen at family gatherings was
nothing like the man she was coming to know.
    “How was your shopping trip?” he asked, his intense
gaze on her. Tension arced between them like an electrically
charged summer storm.
    “We got a lot of stuff.”
    “Let me see it.” He smiled that wicked smile of his
and leaned toward her until only a whisper separated them. He
brushed back strands of her hair from her face. “I missed you.”
    The huskiness of his voice and the desire that
gleamed from his eyes were almost her undoing. She swayed toward
him, wanting to melt into the security and peace of his arms. The
flash of triumph in his eyes shot her with a cold dose of reality
and she stepped back, folding her arms across her chest