So he did, and when she kissed him back, his heart felt as if it was dancing.
“Something better,” he said. “A pay phone.”
* * *
An antique, was what he should have called the object of his search, but he was banking on the fact that cell phone coverage might be tricky in these mountains and that would mean there might still be old-fashioned landlines.
He was right.
Ariel spotted one half an hour later. The booth was outside a weather-beaten building he figured was a small-town version of a convenience store.
He pulled up beside the booth and hoped the relic would work.
It did. But it ate the coins he had and then waited patiently for more. Now what? All he had left in his wallet was a hundred dollar bill, and he had the feeling that asking the clerk in the store to break it was not the best idea. The last thing he wanted was to make himself memorable.
He had credit cards. They were a no-no, too. He suspected he’d made a mistake using them at the hospital and that little mall.
Ariel had been found with two things in her possession. His card.
And cash.
He hurried to the car and opened her door.
“That money you had with you when you had the accident… Do you still have it?”
She nodded. “I put it in the glove compartment after we left the hospital.”
Maybe the gods were listening. Matteo punched open the compartment, took out a couple of twenties and hurried into the store. A minute later, his pockets jingling, he went into the phone booth and lifted the receiver off the hook.
Caleb’s name and number was in the iPhone he’d ditched. Getting it from Information would take too long. He knew Luca’s numbers—cell, landline, office—by heart, and he punched in the numbers for his brother’s cellphone.
One ring. Two. Three. Matteo shoved his hand through his hair. “Come on,” he said, “Dammit, Luca…”
“Hello?”
“Luca.”
“Matteo? Where are you? The number that’s coming up on my caller ID…”
“I need Caleb’s phone number.”
“Don’t you have it?”
“I have it. I had it. I don’t have it now.”
“How come? Where’d you say you were? You sound… strange.”
“I don’t have time to explain. Just give me the number.”
“Matteo. Are you in trouble?” Luca’s tone sharpened. “What’s going on?”
“Dammit, man…” Matteo took a steadying breath. “I’ll explain another time. Right now—”
“Tell me where you are. What you need. I’ll be there right away.”
“I told you. What I need is to talk to Caleb. Give me his cell number. He’s a lawyer, I’m a lawyer. Means he probably carries the thing around as if it were part of him.”
“Jesus, Matteo…”
“Luca. I promise you, I’m fine, but I’m in—I’m in kind of a rush. I have to talk to Caleb. Okay?”
There was a blip of silence. Then a grudging, “Yes. Okay. Hold on a minute.”
It took less than that before Luca was rattling a number in his ear. Matteo repeated it twice.
“Good. Excellent. Thank you.”
“Listen, mio fratello, if you’re in some kind of hot water—”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’ll call you when I can. And Luca? If anybody asks where I am, you don’t know.”
“But I don’t know,” his twin said in bewilderment.
“Let’s keep it that way,” Matteo said, and ended the call.
* * *
He dialed Caleb. His half-brother picked up on the first ring.
“Caleb Wilde,” he said briskly.
“Caleb. It’s Matteo.”
Silence. Understandable. In the months since the Bellinis and the Wildes had discovered they shared the same father, they’d come to care for each other, but Matteo and Caleb had never spoken on the phone.
“Hi,” Caleb finally said. “What’s up?”
Good. No polite chitchat, no long-winded hellos. Caleb had gone straight to the point. If I can only do the same, Matteo thought, and cleared his throat.
“I have a, uh, a situation here.”
Caleb chuckled. “Don’t tell me. A lawyer calling a lawyer for advice. Will wonders never—”
“I’m not calling you as a lawyer.”
“Oh?”
“No. This isn’t a legal problem. I mean, it is, in some ways, but—”
“But it’s a problem.”
“Yes.”
“And?” Caleb said cautiously.
“And…”
Dammit. Ariel had stepped from the car. She came up to him, put her arm around his waist and leaned into him. He put his arm around her shoulders.
“Hang on, Caleb, okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Matteo muffled the phone against his jacket. “Go back to the car, honey.”
Ariel looked up at him. “I’m not cold standing here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Good. I mean, I’m glad you’re not, but…” He forced a smile and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Wait for me in the car, okay?”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Ariel. Please, go back to the car.”
“Are you talking about me?”
“Ariel…”
She whipped off the glasses and gave him a long, angry look.
“You’re going to say things about me you don’t want me to hear.”
What was the point denying it? “Yes,” he said bluntly, “I am. Now go back to the—”
She jammed the glasses back on her nose, turned on her heel, strode back to the car, climbed inside and slammed the door. He considered going after her, but there was no point in that, either. They’d end up having the same argument they had each time the subject of her memory came up.
“Caleb,” he said, bringing the phone to his ear. “Sorry about the interruption. As I was saying, I have a situation…”
“What kind of situation?”
Matteo rubbed his forehead. “It’s a little hard to explain.”
“Yeah. Well, give it your best shot.”
“I have a client,” Matteo said. “I had a client.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I told him I wasn’t representing him anymore.”
“Formally? Officially?”
“I returned his files to him. Is that official enough?”
“Okay. Continue.”
“He’d told me he was going to divorce his wife.”
“Before you ended your relationship with him?”
“Yes. He’d asked me to handle the divorce. He said his wife had all kinds of issues.”
“Issues?”
“Mental issues. Emotional issues.”
“Help me out here. You’re not a divorce attorney, are you?”
“No, I’m not, but he was concerned about this being a delicate situation. I thought it was a bad idea, but I finally agreed to have drinks with him.” Matteo paused. “With him and his wife.”
“To eyeball the wife.”
“Exactly.”
He heard the creak of leather. He’d been in Caleb’s home; he could picture him sitting in a big, comfortable leather chair in his book-lined study.
“Go on.”
“The meeting didn’t go the way I’d anticipated. I told him I wouldn’t represent him in his divorce.”
“Because?”
“Because his wife didn’t strike me as how he’d described her. Mentally ill. Delusional. You know.”
“In fact,” Caleb said evenly, “I don’t know. I still have no idea what this ‘situation’ you mentioned is.”
“Yeah.” Matteo rubbed his forehead again. “Well, see, about that…”
A truck roared by. A logging truck, big and fast and noisy.
“What the hell was that?” Caleb asked.
“Ah, it was a tr…”
&n
bsp; Deposit fifty cents for another…
“Matteo? Are you in a phone booth?”
Caleb sounded as if he were asking if he was on Mars.
“Yes,” Matteo said, as he dumped quarters into the slot.
“Why?”
“Because I ditched my cellphone.”
“Because?”“Because I’m on the run with my former client’s wife and I thought he might be tracking us.”
There was what Matteo figured might be called a pregnant pause before his half-brother spoke again.
“Give me the number of the phone you’re using.”
Matteo peered at the phone. “It’s 518-555-0203.”
“Hang up. I’ll call you back in three minutes.”
Another time, the specificity of the statement would have rated a laugh, but Caleb sounded dead serious, which was pretty much the way Matteo felt.
The phone went dead. He looked over at the car. At his watch. Two minutes fifty-six seconds. Just enough time to get to the car and signal Ariel to put the window down.
“It isn’t you,” she said in a wobbly voice. “It’s me. I hate not knowing anything.”
Matteo leaned in, clasped her face in his hand.
“All you need to know is this,” he said, and he bent his head to hers and kissed her.
He had kissed her before. To offer her comfort. To show her his passion. He had kissed her because she was beautiful and sweet.
This was different.
This kiss was about the two of them. One man, one woman, and a situation that had compressed weeks into days, days into hours. It was about not having the time to get to know each other, to pace their emotions, to ease into a relationship.
Most of all, the kiss was a question.
Did she feel what he felt?
She whispered his name against his mouth, and he had his answer.
The phone rang.
He drew back. Ariel touched her hand to his face. He kissed her fingers, ran to the booth and grabbed the phone.
“Took your time getting to the phone,” Caleb said.
Matteo nodded, as if the other man could see him.
“I had something important to do.”
Caleb laughed as if he’d read Matteo’s mind. “You’re in deep,” he said, “with the woman.”
“Her name is Ariel,” Matteo said. “And yes, if it’s any of your business, I am.”
“Whoa. Take it easy, dude. “
“Hell. I’m sorry. It’s just that—that she matters to me.”
“Yeah. I got that feeling.” Caleb paused. “Okay,” he said, his tone strictly business. “I’d hoped the place you’re at sold pre-paid phones, but it doesn’t.”
“What?”
“The store there. It doesn’t sell—”
“How do you know that?”
“Did you ever hear of Google?”
“Sure, but—”
“It’s not the only search engine in the world, Matteo. There are a couple that are far more sophisticated.”
“Like?”
Caleb chuckled. “Like, if I told you their names, I’d have to kill you.”
At this point, Matteo believed it.
“Bottom line, you can’t buy pre-paids until Speculator.”
“Caleb. Do me a favor. Start speaking English. Or try Italian. Just speak in a language I can understand.”
Another chuckle.
“Okay. In English. Do you have a map?”
“Uh, yeah. I have a map.”
“Are you looking at it?”
“No. It’s in the car.”
“Get it. And, by the way, that was a smart move. Dumping that cell phone.”
Matteo laughed. It seemed the only appropriate reaction.
“Go get that map.”
Matteo ran to the car, signaled for Ariel to put down the window. Reached in, grabbed the map from the console and, what the hell, dropped a fast kiss on her mouth before racing back to the booth.
“Okay. I’ve got the map.”
“I’m going to give you some coordinates. Find where they intersect.”
Caleb gave him the coordinates. Matteo followed them.
“Got it,” he said. “It’s a town called… Aha. Speculator.”
“That’s your destination. You’re only a few miles away. When you get there, park in the lot outside the post office. You’ll see a grocery store. Go in and buy a couple of pre-paid phones.”
“Because you’re sure the store sells them,” Matteo said, deadpan.
“Absolutely sure. Buy them, take them out to the car, and call Zach.”
“Zach?”
“Zach. Jaimie’s husband.”
“I know who you mean, but why Zach?”
“You’re on the run with a woman who needs protection. More than that, you’re involved with her. Am I right?”
Matteo hesitated. What the fuck. What was the point in denying it?
“Yes.”
“Well, Zach’s been there, done that. It’s how he and Jaimie got started. My expertise is… It’s not in that area. You have a pen and paper?”
“Uh, no.”
“How’s your memory?”
“It’s fine,” Matteo said in bewilderment.
“Good. I’m gonna give you Zach’s number. Memorize it. Before you call him, get yourself something to take notes with.”
“Will do.”
“Okay. Here’s the number.”
Caleb rattled it off. Repeated it. Asked Matteo to repeat it, three times. Then he paused.
“Last question. The guy after you… Who is he? What has he threatened to do? I’m assuming divorce is no longer the issue.”
Matteo’s hand tightened on the phone.
“He wants to silence her. Ariel. The divorce thing, wanting my advice on that, was only a ploy. What he really wanted was for me to help him put her away. I called him on it. The next day, he stormed into my office, angry as hell. Apparently, she’d run away.”
“Apparently?”
Matteo rubbed his hand over his forehead.
“Did I mention she has amnesia?”
“Am…?” Caleb snorted. “You sure you’re not writing a script for a soap?”
“Yeah,” Matteo said, with a little laugh, “don’t I wish.”
“So she has amnesia, but she remembered you and contacted you.”
“No. She was in an accident. She had my business card in her pocket. The hospital contacted me and I—”
“And you went to the hospital and got her the hell out of there and now you think the accident might not have been an accident at all, right?” Caleb didn’t wait for an answer. “You sure you haven’t spent any time in my former business, dude? What else? Has he made any threats directly to her or to you?”
“He phoned me. He said he’d take care of us both.” Matteo hesitated. “I know this all sounds melodramatic, but he means business. His family had some dark connections in Sicily. I don’t think he’d give a minute’s thought to killing us and, goddammit, I cannot, I will not let anything happen to her!”
“No,” Caleb said calmly, “of course you won’t. Does this guy have a name?”
“His name is Tony Pastore. Anthony Pastore. He’s—”
“Shit! I know who he is. He’s a racketeer. Mob connected. He’s skirted what should have been a couple of murder charges.”
“I didn’t know that, but I have to admit, I’m not surprised.”
“Okay,” Caleb said. “You get your ass to Speculator. Buy the pre-paids, call Zach. He’ll be waiting. Clear?”
“Clear,” Matteo said, and then he said, “Caleb? Thank you.”
He could almost see Caleb’s smile.
“Hey, that’s what family’s for, dude. To give each other a hand. Right?”
“Right,” Matteo said, the word coming out just a little thick and rough.
“Good luck.”
“Right,” Matteo said again, and ended the call.
CHAPTER TWELVE
&nb
sp; Speculator was a small, snow-covered village nestled within the mountains.
“Pretty,” Matteo said. “Kind of like a greeting card.”
“It’s beautiful!” Ariel looked at him, eyes bright. “There was a snowstorm once, when I visited my grandparents over Christmas, and my grandfather took me to buy a sled and we drove through a town that looked just like…” She caught her breath and stared at Matteo. “Oh,” she said shakily, “oh…”.
“Easy.”
“That’s the second time I thought of them,” she whispered.
“Anything else?”
She screwed up her face. A minute dragged by. Then she puffed out her breath. “Nothing else. Just that drive through the snow.”
“That’s a lot.”
“It isn’t anything! It’s—it’s just a disjointed piece of—of stuff.”
“It’s a start. The dance company. Your grandparents. A drive through the snow. Your memory’s coming back, and it’s happening faster and faster.”
“Not fast enough,” she said in a small voice.
He understood.
She wanted to remember everything. And he wanted that for her.
She had questions about the past.
By now, so did he.
He was absolutely certain Tony had fed him nothing but lies. There wasn’t anything wrong with Ariel that a little love and care couldn’t cure. She wasn’t mentally ill, or addicted to drugs. She was a woman any man would be proud to call his.
His jaw tightened.
And that was the downside of her memory returning.
The man who called her his was Tony Pastore, and how could that be?
“…next?”
He’d missed half of what she’d said. Focus, he told himself, dammit, focus! Or you won’t get her through this.
“Sorry. What did you say?”
“I said, what are we supposed to do next?”
“Find the post office,” he said briskly. “Caleb said there’s a store right next to it where we can buy phones.”
Seconds later, her voice rang out.
“There’s the post office.”
Matteo signaled and pulled into the parking lot. Yes. There was the post office, and the grocery market.
“Okay. Now we go inside the market, buy prepaid phones, and then I call Zach.” He turned off the engine and looked at Ariel. “Are you all right now?” he asked softly.
She nodded. “Yes.”
Passion: In Wilde Country: Book Two Page 15