Anthony then looked at what he'd left lying on the floor beside Denny. "Toss that on the grill. It’ll be a reminder to the crew what happens to anybody that steals from me," he said as he strode out the door and slammed it behind him.
If it was true that Van was gone, Anthony would use the time to learn more than the little he already knew about the man and his family. If there were weaknesses or vulnerabilities, Anthony wanted to know what they were now so they could be used against Chapman later. His anger at himself started to intensify, but he tamped it down. He'd already blown off enough steam. It was time to get to work.
The smell of fresh cut grass drifted through the air, and Anthony inhaled deeply as Denny's beating and death already became a distant memory. He didn't make a habit of working with his landscaping crews, but he wanted to use the time at Chapman's house to observe. Besides, he didn't consider riding the lawnmower work. If anything, he enjoyed the solitary chore as it gave him time to think.
An annoying fly now interrupted those thoughts. He swatted it away, and then quickly used the rubber band on his wrist to secure his long black hair off his shoulders. Returning both hands to the mower, he went back to mulling over the current situation.
Anthony had met Van once, and only as a formality to let him know who he would be dealing with. A lot of loan sharks tried to hide behind their front men. Not Anthony. He wanted people to see who would be coming after them if they didn't pay. Showing them the man behind the money had always been a useful tool. Until now. And he could almost see why Denny fell into a comfortable relationship with Van. After one brief face-to-face, Anthony knew Van was a typical car salesman. His expensive silk business suits and smooth talking had helped Van move up the corporate ladder and into the bed of a wealthy heiress. Anthony wasn't at all surprised that Van had been able to swindle Denny as well.
Anthony swung the mower around again and gripped the wheel tighter as his knuckles whitened, determined that he would get what was owed to him regardless of the cost. He was in the money business, not the mercy business, and Anthony had no intention of showing mercy to a slimeball like Chapman.
His thoughts were disrupted when he noticed a red convertible Corvette slowly creeping up the long drive. He couldn't tell from that distance who was behind the wheel; all he saw was blonde hair. He purposely steered his mower to the car's obvious destination. He watched the auto curl around the circular driveway, pass the ridiculously large front entry doors and come to a stop on the other side of the ugliest fountain Anthony had ever seen.
As he got closer, he saw a petite, curvy, fair-haired female get out of the car and approach one of his men who'd been weeding along the stone pavers. Anthony brought the mower to a halt, climbed off and walked toward them. The woman's back was to him, and he clenched his jaw when he recognized her body language. He'd mowed enough lawns as a kid on the other coast to know exactly what kind of broad his employee, Lester, was dealing with. She radiated an air of misplaced superiority. Another privileged princess. His jaw was still tightly clenched when Lester stood and laughed at something the woman said. As Lester looked past her, his smile faded when he saw Anthony's expression.
"Sorry, boss. Miss Christy here was just telling me something I found amusing," the man said with a worried smile and a Southern accent. Lester was an older man, a Vietnam veteran and alcoholic transient who'd found his way to Florida from Georgia. Anthony had given him a chance, and he’d proven to be a reliable employee. He showed up every morning, the stench of whatever he drank the night before almost dripping from his pores, but Lester showed up, on time, which is all Anthony was concerned about.
The blonde turned around to see who Lester was talking to and her smile faded. With her hands on her hips, her posture stiffened as she stared at Anthony, her lips thin and her expression unreadable. She slowly perused Anthony from head to toe and raised her chin up just enough for him to notice.
"You must be new." The disdain in her voice was as thick as molasses.
There it was. The attitude. The one he knew to expect. Yet her bright blue eyes caught Anthony off guard. He'd never once remembered seeing someone whose eyes rivaled the sky. Not even Alexander's. X's eyes reminded Anthony of ice. Hers, combined with her chin-length straight blonde hair and obvious haughty arrogance, brought back sour memories. Memories of the over privileged and spoiled wives and daughters that used to flaunt their bodies and their fortunes to a young and impressionable Anthony as he worked his first job in Miami on a landscaping crew.
"You live here?" he asked, without responding to her comment. He wouldn't let his eyes travel down her body. He was more than a foot taller than her and could tell without directly looking that she had full breasts that hadn't moved or jiggled when she turned around. Definitely implants. Her nipples were protruding from beneath the flimsy tank top she wore despite the heat. Her white shorts contrasted against her tan skin. Of course she has a nice tan, he mused. It's probably the only thing she does all day. Lie in the sun, lunch at the club and go to back-to-back appointments with masseuses, manicurists and cosmetic surgeons.
"Not anymore," she replied with a dismissive tone.
His hands balled into fists.
Turning her back to Anthony she returned to her convertible and grabbed what looked like a beach bag out of the passenger seat.
"It was nice to see you, Lester," she said as she walked past the man who'd returned to his kneeling position and was back to pulling weeds from a flowerbed that bordered the driveway. "And thanks for the heads-up!"
Pulling a key from the pocket of her shorts, she opened the front door and went inside, closing it behind her. Anthony heard the click of the deadbolt sliding into place. He returned his gaze to Lester who stood up again and nervously started wiping his hands on his jeans. He knew his boss would want an explanation. Before Anthony could ask, he answered him.
"She's the Chapmans’ daughter. Miss Christy doesn't live here anymore, but she likes to come to the house when she knows they won't be around."
Anthony looked hard at Lester, his eyes full of suspicion. "How did she know they weren't here?"