“Oh, you know. Charlie’s over, she just dropped off the kids and they’re in the backyard with your father working on the treehouse. I swear, he is never going to be done with that damn thing!”
He smiled but didn’t comment, happy to let his mother continue to vent. She didn’t really mean any of it; it was just her way of keeping him in the loop of all the family news. He resumed working on his report, responding and now and then with a well-placed ‘hmm’ or ‘uh huh’.
“Dominic, are you even listening?”
He winced when she used his full name, but was grateful she didn’t bust out the middle one. “Yes, ma’am. Nonna’s tearing up the nursing home with her new boy-toy who is just a shade younger than dirt, Charlie and Tommy are due in December, hopefully before Christmas, you’re hoping it’s another girl because one granddaughter isn’t enough, Jules isn’t speaking to Bea or Charlie because they don’t approve of her boyfriend that you haven’t met yet, Beatrice is almost done with her business degree and needs to find a good husband, and Dad is making you crazy and needs to find something to do since he’s retired besides work on the treehouse.” His answer was greeted with stony silence, but he wasn’t worried, he just kept typing on his report while his mother worked up to a response.
“You do that just to annoy me.” He could hear the pout in her voice.
“No, Ma. I’m just at work and very good at the quick recap.” Barring anything unforeseen, he’d be getting out on time today, which worked out well considering his evening plans.
“Speaking of quick recap, when are you gonna settle down and give me grandchildren? You got a smart-aleck response for that?”
“Control to 2435,” his radio chirped from its spot in his desk charger.
Saved, by the job! “Ma, I gotta go. I got a case coming in.” He grabbed his radio and responded, writing down the information on a free margin of his desk calendar. As much as Nahia was rapidly staking out space in his brain, she was definitely not yet up as a topic of conversation with his mom.
“You know that answer is only going to work for so long.”
Nico fought off the reaction to the look he knew he was getting from over seven hundred miles away. “I know, Ma. I do have to go. I love you.”
“Love you, too, sweetheart.”
Once he hung up the phone, he dropped his head as he collected himself. He knew his mother meant well, even if she had all the subtlety of an earth mover. All he had to do now was make it through his day, and he would be golden. And then his pager went off, and he knew he’d spoken too soon.
Nahia flipped through the pictures on her laptop. It was either that or braid her hair again, and she’d already done that twice. The pictures were from the ghost hunt with Nico, and it was all she could do to concentrate on lighting, time stamps, and matching up with the audio. A labor intensive process facilitated by a slow day and the antsy-ness born of knowing that she was going out with Nico tonight.
Grown. She was a grown woman, and yet being with him, even for a short period of time, she felt like a giddy schoolgirl. It was kind of embarrassing. And the fact she kept coming back to that kiss in her mind was doing nothing to help her get past her acute case of googly eyes.
Nico was so gentle, and for whatever reason, that confused her, but not in a bad way. She wasn’t necessarily into the rough stuff, but he actually seemed kind of hesitant and as awed by the thing between them as she was. The connection seemed to grow every time they were in each other’s proximity, a kind of tether or gravity that kept them in each other’s orbits. She’d never felt anything like it and seriously had no idea what to make of it.
Yet, she felt no impulse to fight against it, which was equally odd. Any time in the past when she’d felt any kind of growing affection or intimacy beyond her comfort level, she was out the door without a backward glance or an apology. Relationships, at least the long-term kind, weren’t in her makeup, and she wasn’t upset by that. Now she found herself reflecting and questioning its wisdom. The whole thing made her feel…off, but not in a bad way.
“He must be something else,” a voice behind her startled her back into reality.
Magdalena, Mags to her, Lena to her clients, was Nahia’s upstairs tenant, the clairvoyant and physical medium. She had a talent for seeing things that were hidden and ferreting out information by simply touching or holding an object. As a result, shaking hands really wasn’t an option.
Nahia dismissed the observation with a wave of her hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The tiny redhead in the too-tight jeans and the low cut pink t-shirt gave her a knowing look as she walked over to the counter and hopped up on it, dangling her legs. “Really? So that picture of dust and a small figure in the lower right corner of the frame is really so interesting you feel the need to stare at it for five minutes?”
Nahia raised her chin defiantly and flipped her braid back over her shoulder, even as she moved to enlarge that portion of the photograph. “Maybe it is. Maybe I do.”
Mags snorted and casually put her hands on the counter on either side of her. “Cop, huh?” She turned her eyes up the ceiling in what Nahia knew was her way of communing with her senses. Her frighteningly accurate senses. “Pretty, not local. Tall, well-mannered gentleman, Italian—”
“Okay, knock it off. I get it.” If she let her go on, Mags would soon be telling her his inseam and underwear preference.
With a self-satisfied grin, the pixie hopped off the counter and affected an innocent shrug. “I was curious.”
“This,” Nahia pointed to the spot where her friend had been sitting, “right here, is why we keep you upstairs and away from the civilized folk.”
“Eh,” Mags sniffed as she stepped over to the tapestry that hid the entrance to her upstairs domain and Nahia’s business office. “You’re just mad because I know how often he talks to his mom and how many sisters he has.”
“You know what?” In her growing annoyance, Nahia looked around frantically for something to throw at her friend, finally seizing on a heavy glass paper weight.
Mags’ eyes widened in fear before narrowing shrewdly. “Fine, be that way.” She stuck out her tongue and disappeared behind the vivid tapestry in a flouncy huff, only to stick her head out a moment later. “And be careful when you hunt. Whatever this is,” she inclined her head toward the laptop, “it’s not good. It wasn’t in life and it sure as hell isn’t in death.”
And with that ominous proclamation, her pixie friend vanished again, just in time for her 3:30 appointment. When her client stopped by the checkout counter, Nahia attempted to look engrossed by her pictures, flipping through them, adjusting light, and circling things to examine closely. Before the young woman could speak, Nahia pointed to the tapestry, “All-Knowing Pixie of Doom and Gloom is upstairs, first door on the right.”
As she listened to the footsteps recede up the stairwell, she did what any self-respecting woman would do with a potentially terminal case of nerves. She unwound her braid and brushed it out again.
Nico had a vendetta against the clock. Every time he looked up from the report he was writing, it was half an hour closer to when he had to get out the door if he was going to make the reservations. The second missing child had been gone longer than the first and had ended up on a city bus on the other side of town from where he’d started. Always a joy. Now he had to finish his seemingly endless notes and hope nothing important came up between now and the time he needed to leave.
Nigel wandered in the door across the room, loaded down with coffee, his laptop, and a backpack that looked like it might have been better to invest in a pack mule. The other man acknowledged him with a raise of his chin which Nico returned before ducking back down into his report.
It was another half an hour before he looked up again, this time because he had a tall blond man leaning against his desk with an expectant look on his face. “May I help you?”
Nigel’s grin was sly as he slid into the chai
r Nico normally reserved for distraught family members and witnesses. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me out the other night.”
Nico gave him a reproving look before he turned back to his computer screen. “If you’re gearing up to ask for another favor, you can keep it. Last time I did you a favor I was damn near scared to death. Nothing personal, but I’m sure I neither want, nor need, anything else from you. Though I appreciate you thinking of me.”
The blond man laughed and leaned back in the chair crossing his arms and legs. “Ha. Nah, nothing like that. Just curious as to how it went.”
Nico regarded him for a moment, attempting to assess his friend’s intentions. “You could ask Nahia.”
“I’m asking you.”
Turning back to his computer, Nico resumed typing. “It was scary as hell. Never dealt with anything like it. And that was after meeting Nye. Nice girl.”
“Just nice?”
Maybe it was the tone, or the slightly sharp stare of which he was on the business end, but Nico had things to do and the last thing he wanted to do was discuss his thoughts on Nahia with her best friend. “Look, having three younger sisters, I’ve been on both sides of this ‘if you hurt her, they won’t find your body’ discussion. I’m cool with that. It’s just dinner. She’s a nice girl and I wanted to take her out. Nothing more. Okay?” From Nigel’s widening smile, he knew he’d said too much. “Look—”
Nigel was up out of the chair and leaning against his side of the desk, a wicked grin on his face. “Dinner, huh? Do tell.”
Nico read over his last paragraph and made a couple adjustments before he submitted it. The moment he hit enter, he was up, grabbing his suit jacket, radio and gun. “I’ve said much more than I needed to already. You have a great night.”
“You too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Nigel called after him.
Right before the elevator doors closed to take him to his car in the basement, Nico muttered, “Like I’d tell you if I did.”
Nahia practically pounced on her phone when it rang on the counter. She bounded from the back with a handful of new pendula and a couple new boxes of tarot to restock her shelves, coming to a screeching halt by the counter, moving fast enough to completely muss her hair. “Wellington’s Magickal Apothecary!” She cringed at the sound of her own voice, all breathy and high-pitched, like she’d been caught in flagrante, or something.
“You okay?” the laughing voice on the other end of the phone asked.
She flipped her chest-length bangs out of her face, reminded again why she favored braids over just letting her hair run free. “No, I’m good. Sorry. Caught me in the back restocking.”
“Okay, you ready to go?” The door chime she heard in the background cut off abruptly.
She quickly hung up the pendula and stuck the decks of cards on a shelf. A quick once-over, hair down and reasonable, a thin cotton peasant shirt, and jeans, well, just jeans, she nodded. Good to go. “Yeah, ready whenever you are.”
“Come on out then.”
Nahia inched over to the front window to see Nico leaning casually against the side of a low-slung gunmetal grey Nissan coupe with tinted windows. Damn, he looked good with his rolled up sleeves, hands in his pockets with the tail of his tie hanging out of one. “Be right out.”
She hung up and ran through the store shutting down lights and checking locks. Last thing she did was stick her head behind her tapestry and holler up the stairs, “Mags, I’m out! It’s locked down here.”
“Be safe! Take a chance! Have fun!” her friend called back down to her.
Nahia was still smiling when she locked the door and stepped into the night. The nerves she felt in the daylight evaporated in the encroaching dusk. Night was her time, always had been, and with the darkness came the confidence to meet his appreciative smile with one of her own. “Nice ride. Department?”
Nico sighed as he held the door for her to slide into the passenger seat. “I just left headquarters, and didn’t have time to go home and change it out. I hope it’s okay.”
She waited until he was in the car with her to answer, taking her time to notice each little extra switch and unobtrusive change. Really, as undercover cars go, it was hard to tell any real difference. “Of course it is. I was just curious.”
He pulled smoothly into the traffic outside the building and turned left to head south, sparing her a sidelong glance at the light. “Nigel doesn’t let you ride in his?”
She raked her upper lip with her teeth trying to contain the instant giggle the memory produced. “See, we were young, it was his first police car. I was drunk, really, really drunk, and called him for a ride home from the bar. He was cool, put me in the front seat, and I promptly vomited. All over everything.”
He cringed as he turned eastbound on South Street into the cute old neighborhood with the rows of brick townhouses. “Oh no, no good at all.”
She nodded. “Yeah, so I haven’t been in a car with him since. The bad thing about having a friendship as old as ours is that the grudges are just as old.”
He nodded, a slightly wistful smile on his face. “I get that. I have friends from growing up that still live in the old neighborhood. When I go back to visit my family, it’s like I never left.” He pulled the car into a space not far from the patio dining area of Ianucci’s, a restaurant known citywide both for its phenomenal Italian food and its damn near unattainable reservation status.
She felt disturbingly flattered he’d gone to such effort on her behalf. “Pulling out all the stops, huh?”
Nico came around and opened the door for her like it was the most natural thing in the world for him. “Not quite. See, Mrs. Ianucci is my Nonna’s third cousin twice removed or something like that; they came over together after the war. She’s looked after me since I moved here. Her son Pete runs the place now.”
He also held the door into the restaurant for her, his hand on her back as he guided her inside igniting a wave of tingles that she only barely managed to suppress. “So where is your family?”
Nico waited to answer her until they were comfortably seated on the patio. It was beautiful under the deepening evening, with a breathtaking view of the Indy skyline, Sinatra and Dean Martin flowing softly from hidden nearby speakers. Perfect, and perfectly romantic…like a freight train. He wasn’t normally given to second thoughts, he was confident enough to trust himself most of the time, but suddenly looking around he realized he might have gone a bit overboard. “Is this okay?”
“Of course. It’s perfect.” She smiled, looking absolutely stunning in the candlelight. With her hair down and her flowing black shirt, she looked ethereal and he wanted nothing more than to touch her to see if she was real.
He held himself in check, especially in front of the waiter taking their drink orders, his a bourbon and hers a ‘porn star’ dirty martini. Damn, but she made him laugh. “Porn star?”
She nodded, a cute blush blossoming in her cheeks. “Yeah, I just didn’t want them to skimp on the olives.” Methodically unfolding her napkin and arranging her area, she looked up at him through hooded lashes, “So you don’t like to talk about your family?”
“What? No, not at all.” Hell, he’d been so distracted by her, he’d lost the train of the conversation. “Mom, Dad, Charlie, Bea, and Jules all still live in the neighborhood. It’s called Todt Hill, on the northeastern side of Staten Island. Nonna lives in a nursing home, excuse me, an assisted living community not far from there, with her latest conquest, Richard, and they’re all pretty well-adjusted and happy.”
Nahia blinked, looked stunned as he listed off the people in his life. The waiter brought their drinks and she took a decent sip before saying, “Sounds like a big bunch.”
“They are, and wild, too, once you add in all my nieces and nephews, varying aunts, uncles, cousins, and the rotating cast of characters that are my sisters’ boyfriends.” He’d never really given it any thought; it was just how it was. “Your family’s small, huh?”
“And you have my sympathies,” he said, toasting her after he sipped his drink. The burn of the bourbon down his throat settled him down, relaxed him. The conversation was flowing a lot easier than he thought it would, and he just added that to the growing list of things about her that fascinated him.
Her broad grin cut dimples into her cheeks. “Eh, he’s okay when he’s not trying to marry me off. He’s one babushka away from being a shadchan.”
“Yiddish? Really? I haven’t heard that word in a very long time.” And she continually surprised him, this time with a tone from home that warmed him more than the liquor. “What do you mean he’s trying to marry you off?”
The waiter came and took their orders and menus, leaving them alone in the surprisingly cozy and mostly deserted patio. Nahia ducked her head, running her fingers through her shiny black tresses. “Do you think it was an accident that he was suddenly unavailable to ghost hunt with me? He’s damn near professional in his matchmaking skills.”
Nico felt himself blanch at her statement. He thought about his friend, the guy who sat at the desk next to him, had invited him to be in his wedding, happy, jovial, and he kinda wanted to choke him. Not that he minded the results in any way, but he felt like he’d been played. “Damn.”
She waved off his perturbation with a graceful flick of her hand. “Ignore it. I always do.” The look she gave him, the candle light flickering in her dark eyes, made him feel like she could see every secret he had. And those she didn’t know yet, he was more than happy to confess to. “Why are you here?”
Dead and Disorderly (Behind the Blue Line Series Book 2) Page 5