“Researching who? Ritchie Trumbella?”
“Who's Ritchie Trumbella?”
“The guy lying in the morgue with about fifty bullet holes in him.”
Cassie's mind was flooded with the gruesome scene in the bar again. Would it ever go away? “That's right. That poor man.”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “That poor man is the reason three other civilians and a federal agent were killed tonight. Not to mention the countless number of other unsolved murders he's contributed to over the years. Most of those victims are most likely chilling at the bottom of a quarry somewhere.”
“There was a federal agent at Rory’s tonight?”
“He came in with Ritchie. Seems I wasn't the only one working a case against the crime boss.”
“I told you the truth. I never laid eyes on that man until tonight. I don't know anything about this Ritchie Trumbella.”
“You were awfully interested in him when he walked through the door. I saw you…watching him.”
“I was watching a lot of people. You even. It's just research. Actually, character sketches. He is…was quite an interesting character, don't you think?”
Jake blinked hard and shook his head.
“The way you behaved in the bar…you have some experience.”
“I'm not a prostitute,” she said quickly.
“No kidding. That much I figured out in about five seconds. But you knew all about the gun you saw. And the car. You described it all in perfect detail.”
“It's what I do for a living. Well, not actually what I do, but what I know. I've studied all about crime. I research different bits of criminal activity, and then I replay different situations in my mind to use in my books. When the gunfire broke out tonight, I acted on pure instinct. I don't know what happened or where it came from. I'm not usually like that.”
Jake's expression changed, becoming darker and more intense. “You pulled me to the floor before the gunfire broke out.”
“When you moved, I had a clear view out the window. I saw the car slow down just outside. That man, Ritchie, had his back turned. Everyone was talking, laughing, not paying any attention to what was happening outside.”
“And then?”
“It just felt strange to me. Like when you know something is going to happen but you have no way of really knowing for sure. I saw the car window being rolled down and the gleam of what I thought looked like a gun coming out of the window. Like I said, it was pure instinct. Call it an overactive imagination if you want. I've been accused of that all my life. For once, I didn't stop to think before acting.”
“Well, I have to say I'm glad.” Jake's eyes bore into her. “You saved my life tonight.”
Gratitude. It looked uncomfortable on his face. Jake Santos was probably used to being on the receiving end of thanks for getting someone out of a tight jam.
“You're welcome.”
He smacked his hands on his denim-clad thigh, giving her a razor sharp look as he stood. “But you had no business being at that bar tonight.”
“Hey, it's a free country. At least, it was the last time I voted. Rory's is a public place.”
“Rory’s is the pit of the universe. If you’d done enough research, you would have known enough not to go there at all, especially the way you're dressed.”
“What's with the Neanderthal attitude all of the sudden? Who saved your life? Or did you already forget?”
“I'm a trained police officer. I’m trained for situations like this.”
“And I was—”
“I know, doing research.”
Irritation rose up in Cassie. She was tired; her toes were cramped from being in foot-deforming heels all night. The last thing she needed was a lecture from some Lone Ranger cop. All she wanted now was to get back to her safe apartment in the nice section of town, peel off her dress and slip into her favorite flannels. She'd be doing just that if it didn't mean she'd have to give Jake his jacket back.
“The night could have easily ended different. Your body could be sitting in a freezer downtown with the rest of them.”
Jake's eyes more than his words struck Cassie hard this time. There was something that resembled fear there, as if her getting seriously injured or killed in that gunfire somehow shook him.
Warmth spread from the center of her chest outward just thinking about it. Men like Jake didn't see the best of the world. They were as rough around the edges as a man could be.
Cassie had always played it safe in her life. It was probably why she'd never married. Most likely why she hadn't allowed any of the dates she'd had in the last three years to go beyond a mere sweet kiss goodnight at the door. It was definitely why she didn't write romance novels. How could she write about something she'd never been any good at?
Thoughts of what she could experience with a man like Jake Santos made her heart race and caused little rivulets of sweat to trickle down the valley of her chest beneath her dress. She pictured him as a lover, holding her in those strong arms, turning her inside out with passion only a man like Jake could unearth.
“I'm fine. Really,” she said softly.
He nodded, his blue eyes locking with hers. When was the last time a man's gaze held such intensity for her? She couldn't remember.
“Are you up to looking at a few photos?”
She nodded and Jake tossed a few mug shots to the metal desk.
Her eyes grazed the small pictures and immediately zeroed in on one. Her heart pumped furiously. There he was staring up at her from a two-by-two snap shot. Pointing to the picture, Cassie said, “This is him. The gunman.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, it's him.” She'd never forget that face.
“What about the driver of the car?” Jake asked. “Do you remember what he looked like?”
Cassie thought about it a moment, and then shook her head. “It all happened too fast. My mind fixated on the gun and the face of the shooter…” She pointed to the picture Jake had just shown her. “Do you have him in custody yet?”
“No, but we're working on it. Between your description of the car and you IDing the gunman from a picture in our files, we shouldn't have any trouble nailing him.”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Angel Fagnelio. I was supposed to meet him at Rory's tonight, but he was a no-show. Now I know why. He'd been dealing with Ritchie, was going to cut me in on it. But the talk on the street is that Ritchie double-crossed him. We haven't figured out the whole story yet. We were lucky this time. You're very observant.”
“That's my job,” she said, feeling warmth fill her cheeks with his compliment.
“Anyway, now that you've given a positive ID we can put out an APB on Fagnelio and bring him in.”
“What if he finds out I identified him? What if he sends someone after me?”
“Your name isn't being released. As long as you stay put for a few days until we bring him in and get the rest of the information we need for the DA to bring him to trial, you won't have anything to worry about. We might even get lucky and gather enough information so you won't have to testify.”
“When can I go home?”
“Now, if you'd like. I'll drive you.”
Cassie shook her head. “That won't be necessary.”
She glanced at the big numbered clock on the far wall. It said three-thirty. Perfect dream time. “May I use your phone? The other officer at the scene took my purse with my cell phone in it.”
A quick ride to her apartment would have been wonderful. But Jake Santos was probably as eager to get back to his own life as she was to get home to hers.
“Dial 9 for an outside line. I’ll get your bag.” Jake pulled the phone on his desk closer to her before lumbering away toward the coffee machine. He hadn't finished his coffee, so Cassie assumed it was to give her a modicum of privacy.
As she punched in Maureen's telephone number from memory, a little devilish grin pulled at her tired cheeks. She waited three rings before someo
ne picked up.
“Hello?”
“Are you awake?” Cassie asked evenly, trying to keep what little dignity she had left by not out and out blasting Maureen in front of the entire precinct. “It's me.”
“Me, who?”
Cassie ground her teeth. “Cassie Lang, a.k.a. Cassie Alvarez, a.k.a. woman of the night? You know, the one sent out into bedlam—”
“Cassie. Okay, okay.”
There was mumbling in the background. Cassie recognized a man's voice and guessed that Maureen's boyfriend had spent the night. Interrupting a romantic interlude gave Cassie none of the satisfaction she'd craved earlier.
“Why are you calling at this unbelievable hour?”
“I'm at the police station.”
“Oh. My. God!” Maureen's voice was now crystal clear and she was fully awake. Let the guilt begin. “You got yourself arrested? You were only supposed to take notes.”
“Arrested? Are you insane? How about shot at and dragged across a glass-laden barroom in a dress that couldn't warm a cantaloupe.”
Maureen's high-pitched gasp distorted the connection. “Shot? Are you hurt? Are you okay?”
“I'm fine.” Cassie blew out a frustrated breath. She was too tired to lay on a guilt trip, no matter how much Maureen deserved it. Her energy was completely depleted and Maureen's sudden concern poured enough water on her flames to cool her down. “I'm just tired, and I want to go home.”
She looked up just as Jake was approaching. He'd offered to drive her home. If she didn’t take it, she’d have to wait for a cab. He had to go home, too.
“Are you okay, I mean, really?” Maureen said, cutting into her thoughts. “Adam and I will pick you up and bring you over here tonight. You probably don't want to be alone.”
“I'm fine. It’ll be dawn by the time you get here. I just didn't want you to hear about the shooting from someone else or read about it in the morning papers.”
It was a lie. Jake assured Cassie her name wouldn't be used in the papers. Even if Maureen remembered Rory's was one of the bars she'd suggested Cassie go to, she wasn't likely to put two and two together. But Cassie was no good at delivering guilt trips. She could murder all she wanted in her dreams and on paper, but in reality, she was a softy.
“I'll see you in a few days,” Cassie said before she hung up the phone. For a split second, she wished she hadn't refused Maureen's offer to stay at her apartment tonight. She really didn't like the idea of being alone.
As if he'd timed it that way, Jake sat down on the edge of his desk just as she placed the phone in the cradle. He handed Cassie her purse.
“All set?”
Cassie peered up at Jake, into slate blue eyes that seemed to burn with fire and ice at the same time. “Is that offer for a ride still good?”
* * *
The streets appeared colder and particularly lonely as his sports car ate up the pavement toward Cassie's apartment. Every once in a while, he’d glance at her as they passed under a glowing streetlamp.
She'd pulled her dark hair down from the upswept style she'd been wearing all night. Chocolate curls framed her face and covered her shoulders, blending into one with the color of his leather jacket. It made her look even more vulnerable than she had appeared earlier.
What they'd gone through tonight was enough to send most people over the edge. Or at least in search of a bottle of Jack Daniel's to help them forget. Instead, Jake’s mind wandered to elicit thoughts of a woman who was sweet enough to rival sugar cane. He wasn’t about to give in to his sweet tooth no matter how much of a shock to his system tonight had been.
“What you said at the bar, about not being married, is that true?” she asked.
As they passed under another streetlamp, the light illuminated her face and then left it dim. The image of her lips remained in his mind until the next streetlamp grew near.
“Yes, it's true.”
She nodded and looked out the window away from him. “Oh.”
A moment passed in silence.
“Why do you ask?”
“I thought maybe it was a line you used when you were undercover.”
She didn't elaborate further. Had she been thinking about him all this time? Wondering? Jake didn't know if he liked the implications of why. He knew he’d been doing a whole lot of thinking and wondering about Cassie Alvarez and how all those names rolled into one woman.
He drew in a deep breath of air, feeling a slight tremble in his hand as it gripped the steering wheel. He didn't want to know anything more about Cassie Alvarez, or any of her aliases, than he had to know. All his years on the force filled him with the gut instinct that he should just drop her on the curb, make sure she got into her apartment building and then drive away without looking back. After this case was wrapped up, he’d do exactly that.
“What about you?” he asked, going against his reasoning. “Ever been married?”
“Almost, once.”
He squashed the sudden protective feeling that swept through him. The birthdate on her driver’s license showed she was twenty-nine years old, a good six years younger than him. No matter how innocent Cassie appeared to be, she probably had relationships in her past just as he had. He just wished the image of her with another man didn't feel like a kick in the gut.
“Did you grow up here?”
A grin tugged at his lips as he stole a quick glance at her. “Still researching?”
She slouched a little in her seat and smiled sheepishly. “Some habits are hard to break. Call it small talk this time.”
“New Jersey. West Orange to be exact. Most of my family still lives there.”
“I grew up in Stamford. But I went to school in the city.”
“Really?”
She chuckled. “Why does that surprise you?”
“It doesn't.”
They rode in silence for a few blocks, past more streetlamps and lonely locked storefronts.
“Okay, maybe I'm a little surprised. I'm having trouble figuring out why an obviously intelligent and accomplished woman like you thought she could just walk into a place like Rory's alone and walk out unscathed,” he finally admitted. “I mean, did you even think about how dangerous a place like that is?”
“I certainly didn't expect to be in a war zone. I guess being on deadline makes you do…stupid things.”
He pushed his foot on the brake to stop for a red light. He thought he heard a soft sigh and wondered if he’d imagined it or if it was real.
“I guess maybe I've just become immune,” she said.
“Someone like me who sees this stuff every week, I don’t think I’d ever be immune to what happened tonight. So I find it hard to believe someone—”
“Like me?” she said, eyeing him with such intensity he hadn't noticed the light had turned green. “Forgive me, but beyond knowing my name and professional alias, you know very little about me.”
“I’m all ears.”
“We have one block to go before you reach my apartment building and not enough time to give it justice.”
A sudden sadness enveloped her, but she quickly brushed it aside.
Jake drove the last block in silence, fighting his strong desire to know something more about Cassie. He needed to stay detached.
He double-parked in front of her building and left the car running.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said, slipping out of his leather jacket. “I'd say I had a nice time, but given the events of the evening, and the fact that we weren't on a date, I don't think it's appropriate.”
“How about nice to have met you?”
She paused for a second with her hand on the door handle. A slow smile played on her full lips, but she didn’t answer. She just pushed the door open and climbed out.
“I'll call you,” he said as she stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Cassie swung around to look at him, the question written across her tired features.
“If I need more information for my report,” he
clarified.
This time she didn't smile as she nodded. Jake waited as she took the steps up to the front door, unlocked it and stepped inside. He made sure the door had locked behind her before pulling away from the curb.
It had been an endless night in a string of long nights. As he drove his car onto the boulevard, the streets were vacant. Jake usually welcomed heading home after a long shift. Especially after a night as eventful as tonight.
But this time, something pulled at him, making him want to turn back toward Cassie's, toward something he didn't want to face. It had been years since he’d felt that kind of pull. The department shrink had warned him he was treading on thin ice thinking he could handle the stresses of his job without it affecting him. But Jake wasn’t giving in. Not this time.
He said he'd call her if he had any questions. Part of him searched his mind for a reason to make that call. But the only thing Jake came up with was that he wanted to see Cassie again.
#
Chapter Three
That couldn't possibly be the door, Cassie groaned silently as she lifted her heavy head from the pillow. Her head was still hammering and her sense of time had shifted somewhat. But she could swear she'd just crawled into bed moments ago.
If this is Maureen…
Whoever felt the need to assault her door at—she focused on her brass wind up alarm clock on the nightstand—9:30 AM, was at it again. She dropped her feet to the carpet with all the heaviness fatigue had left her with, wondering how she could have managed to sleep a total of three hours and not feel like she'd slept at all.
When Jake had dropped her off at her apartment last night and she’d bolted her apartment door shut, Cassie had showered to scrub off all the makeup and stink from Rory's. After that, she sat in her living room with every light in her apartment on, just staring, afraid of what nightmares would assault her in her sleep. She finally forced herself to go to bed at 6:30 AM, reasoning that if she woke from a bad dream, at least she'd wake in the daylight.
The pounding on the door continued. Taking the time to throw a short floral cotton bathrobe over her nightshirt, Cassie glanced through the mini-blinds to the street three floors below. The night had been replaced with a glorious sunny morning. Jake's empty sports car sat double-parked outside the entrance where he'd dropped her off last night, as if he'd never left.
Material Witness Page 3