He stopped when he saw the change in her. Her eyes narrowed. Her jaw twitched and she stepped closer to him. Her voice shook with pent-up anger. Her breathing was faster and shallow. “If anything happens to her, Nick Manelli, I swear you will pay. If I have to wring your neck with my bare hands, you’ll pay, and that goes for your precious Lou Taranto and that snake, Viper, as well!”
He felt the return of that grudging respect for her just before he felt the shock. “How do you know Viper?” She said nothing, and Nick saw her courage waver. He saw the fear behind it. He stared at her, shaking his head and wondering how he’d been so stupid. “It was no accident that you were in that alley that night. What were you doing there, Antonia?”
She met his gaze. She stood inches from him and tipped her head back to pummel him with her tear-glazed eyes. “I can’t let anything happen to her,” she said. Her voice was hoarse. “It would be my fault. God, I never stopped to think I would be putting her at risk. I can’t let anything happen. Not this time. I can’t stand by and do nothing, like before. I won’t. I’ll do anything—”
She was approaching panic; he could see it swirling in her ebony eyes. He gripped her shoulders again. “Antonia, I didn’t say—”
The tears spilled over and he choked. Antonia’s small fists came up to grip his lapels. “Don’t let them hurt her. For God’s sake, Nick don’t let that happen.”
He didn’t intend to slide his arms around her or to hold her tight against him. It wasn’t something he thought about doing. It was something he couldn’t help doing. He cradled her head against his chest and he rocked her slowly. Her shoulders quaked. She was stiff in his arms but she didn’t pull away. “I didn’t mean it to sound like a threat. I just wanted you to understand why I couldn’t let you call her. No one’s going to hurt your mother, Antonia.” He held her harder, his arms tightening almost against his will. A lump came into his throat, and he closed his eyes. “I swear to God, I won’t let anyone hurt her.”
She shook her head as much as his grip on her would allow. Her voice was muffled by the fabric of his shirt, and her breath warmed his skin right through it. “You have no control over what Taranto might do. No one does.”
She sounded so hopeless. It tore at his emotions—emotions he hadn’t known he could still feel. “Don’t be too sure about that.”
She sniffed, pulled herself away from his chest but not out of his arms. She blinked her eyes drier and frowned up at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I may not control Lou, but he can’t control me, either.” He saw her brows lift, the need in her eyes. Make me believe, she seemed to be begging him. Take this awful fear away. “There are things I can do,” he said softly. “Things Lou never has to know about. You can trust me on this, Antonia. No one will touch her.”
She stared up at him, her huge black eyes like bottomless pools. But a moment later they clouded, as if she’d only just remembered who was speaking to her. “Trust you?” She whispered. She looked at the floor and shook her head slowly. “Buena suerte.”
Reassurances leapt into his throat, but Nick swallowed them forcibly. To convince her she could trust him would be to destroy his cover. He didn’t answer, and when she gazed up again he couldn’t face her imploring eyes. He let his arms fall away from her and shrugged. “Fine, don’t trust me. You’d sleep better if you did, but that’s your problem. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what you were doing in that alley, in the middle of the night, in the pouring rain?”
“I was watching a contract killing,” she said softly. “Why didn’t you let your pal Viper shoot me? It would’ve solved all your problems. I saw him lift the gun. He never misses, or so I’ve heard. What was going through your head when you knocked the muzzle down? Any other thug would’ve just…” Her head came up slowly, her wide eyes narrowed, and her brows pushed at one another. “Why did you stop him from killing me?”
Nick didn’t like the look in her eyes. He wasn’t sure what was on her mind, but it had him squirming like a worm on a hook. He tried to keep the offensive. “How do you know Viper? No one knows his face.”
She acted as if she hadn’t heard him. She turned slowly, looking at the apartment as if she were seeing for the first time. “Why do you stay here, in this hidden apartment? Are you hiding from someone?”
Nick’s temper began to simmer. He didn’t like the way she was trying to take charge of the conversation. His jaw tight, he demanded, “When did you hear the dead man’s name?”
She shook her head slowly as her gaze fell on the phone. “Why do you bring the phone in here every time you want to use it?”
He turned and paced away from her, more uncomfortable than he could remember ever having been. He could barely believe it when she followed, her hand on his shoulder trying to turn him to face her.
“When do you drink the beer I saw in the fridge instead of that expensive whiskey downstairs? And when on earth do you pull on your high-tops and shoot a few hoops? In between dumping bodies and snuffing witnesses for Lou Taranto? Why do you talk like a thug and dress like a gangster when you’re with him and speak perfect English when you’re with me?”
Nick was stunned by her barrage of questions and the direction they were taking. He tried to force a scowl instead of showing the shock he felt. “You seem to have forgotten your position in the scheme of things, Antonia. I’m in charge. Your life is in the palm of my hand. You’d be on a slab in a morgue by now if I hadn’t dragged your cute little butt out of the trouble you stepped into. I ask the questions. You answer them. Is that clear?”
She stared up at him a moment longer. She raked her fingers through her hair and shook her head. “No. I’m crazy to think…Look, I’ve had all I can handle, okay? I’m going to bed.”
She turned and walked away. As soon as the door closed, Nick slammed his fist on the table hard enough to send the cup that sat there two inches from the surface. She was one giant pain in the backside, and if she was thinking along the lines he thought she was, she was going to be trouble. He no longer doubted that her presence in the alley had been no accident. That theory was out the window. She knew way too much.
“Yeah, way too much,” he muttered. She knew just how to look at him to make him forget about protecting his cover—to make his stomach tie itself into a knot while he broke his back to try to tell her what she wanted to hear. Her tears worked better on him than automatic weapons would. He paced the room and wondered if he should give in to the urge to kick the damn door in and make her tell him the truth.
He had to remind himself that her reasons for being in the alley were probably the least of his problems. She was beginning to see holes in his story. Holes no one else had seen. She looked at him just now as if she could see right inside his brain and read his mind. It was damn nerve-racking. It reminded him of—
He wasn’t prepared for the reality that hit him. It reminded him of the way Danny used to look at him whenever he tried dishing up a line of bull. Nick sucked air through his teeth at the sudden pain, like a yard-long saber, running him through. He saw his brother’s knowing expression. Danny always knew when Nick was lying, used to say he could see it in his eyes shining like a beacon. It drove Nick crazy. He’d been the best liar he knew. He’d had to be, or he’d have wound up in foster care somewhere with Danny somewhere else. He’d made up some of the biggest piles of crap ever, and people bought it; the wild excuses he invented for school officials whenever they wanted to see one of his parents, the line he’d fed the manager at the High Spot when he scammed his way into his first job.
He’d always been big, so it was easy to convince them he was older than he was. But the club owner wanted an experienced bouncer, not a rookie. By the time he was hired, Nick had convinced his new employers that he was the greatest bouncer in the city. Nick had gone home and tried to tell Danny his new job was at a convenience store, and Danny had seen right through it. Nick had been afraid his brother would try to make him quit, and he loved th
e job. Tossing guys twice his age out on their butts when they got out of hand was the most fun he’d ever had. He used to fantasize that his father would come in some night. He planned to put the bastard through the door without bothering to open it first.
He’d kept working in that dive for two years after he’d lost Danny, and the entire time he’d been in constant training. He told himself it was because he had to be tough to keep the job. Deep down, though, he knew he was bulking up so he’d be ready to take on the Cobras. At that time he’d still blamed the gang for Danny’s overdose.
Nick forced the mismatched memories from his mind. Why had he thought about his past so much lately—about Danny? Was it just having her here that brought the memories on? Was it because he felt, even from his first glimpse of her standing terrified at the edge of that alley, an irrational urge to protect her? Just the way he’d wanted to protect Danny.
He’d known his brother was in trouble, and he’d tried every way he knew to talk him back from the edge. Danny ignored Nick’s warnings and walked face first into the fire. He’d left Nick alone, just as their worthless father and mother had. Just as little Antonia would do if he gave her half a chance, he thought, even if it was likely to get her killed.
He wouldn’t let her do that.
He shook himself and plugged the telephone in to dial Joey. He was already late.
“Yeah, Joe’s Pizza, whaddya want?”
“Sausage and mushrooms to go,” Nick replied, to let Joey know that he, too, was alone and free to talk.
“Where’ve you been, Nick? On vacation?”
“Couldn’t be helped. You forget I have myself a new roommate?” Nick glanced up at the door and wondered if the little snoop was listening. “You have enough money for that game tonight?”
“Not unless I win the first few hands.”
“That’s what I figured,” Nick said. “Go down to the gym. I left a package in your locker.”
“Greenback? Thanks, Nick.”
“Thank Taranto. It’s what he gave me for handling that little problem the other night.”
Joey hesitated. “You—uh—think he might’ve marked the bills, Nick? If he connects us—”
“I did some banking today. The money’s clean.”
“Perfect. How’s your guest, by the way?”
“Just beautiful. What do you say I send her to your place for a while?”
Joey laughed. “Uh-uh, pal. You caught her, you keep her.”
“I was afraid you’d say that. Listen, I need you to call Harry for me. I never know when she has her ear pressed to the door.”
“Curious, huh?”
“A little too curious. She knows stuff she shouldn’t. She’s got a mother, and I’m uncomfortable with the lady’s security. I want you to have Harry assign a man to her, twenty-four hours. I want to be informed if one of Taranto’s guys gets within ten blocks of her.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Yeah. A background check on the lady herself. She’s holding back.”
“I’ll call Harry right now. Then I have to head over to the Century. I’ll see you after the game if there’s anything worth telling you.”
Nick hung up, unplugged the telephone and took it with him when he left. The tension coiled tight inside him hadn’t eased any, and he needed to work it off. If he didn’t, he thought he was likely to wring Antonia’s pretty neck for keeping so much from him. Even then a little voice whispered that wringing her neck wasn’t at all what he’d like to do to her.
He felt a pang of guilt on the way down. He had promised her a crack at the basement gym…and he would give her one. To have her with him now would defeat the purpose. She was the source of the tension he needed to get rid of.
Toni hadn’t heard his telephone conversation because she’d locked herself in the bathroom to pace and try to work through her sudden suspicion. It had seemed so obvious all at once. Nick didn’t just switch personalities arbitrarily. It had to be deliberate. He was like two men in one body, entirely different with Viper and Taranto than he was with her. She’d been confused by him before. How could he point a gun at her head one minute and buy her notebooks the next? She wasn’t confused anymore. She thought she knew the answer.
He wasn’t working for Lou Taranto at all. He was undercover, just as she was. He was probably some kind of cop.
Joy at her newfound theory bubbled in her chest, and she caught herself grinning. Wait a minute, she thought, pulling a mental emergency brake. Just why does this idea make me so damn happy?
Why shouldn’t it? It certainly would improve my odds of surviving this mess.
It would also ease the guilt she’d been feeling for allowing herself to be physically attracted to a man whose moral values were roughly equivalent to those of pond slime.
Am I saying that it is now perfectly all right to feel slightly attracted to him?
No way, she realized. She could easily be adding two and two and coming up with eighty-nine. She might only be seeing what she wanted to see and not what was truly there. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of relief that he’d made that promise about protecting her mother. If he was a cop, the offer made perfect sense.
And what if he’s just a great liar?
She had no idea how much time had passed, but she finally realized she was too wound up to sleep and that her stomach was too empty to relax anyway. When she emerged from the bathroom, Nick was nowhere in sight. She located the two cartons of Chinese food in the fridge and helped herself to a little bit of it. She no longer feared he’d try to poison her. Besides, he’d eaten from both cartons. She took her plate to the coffee table and wondered if he’d left the house or just the apartment. If she were going to find out who Nick Manelli really was, she would have to keep a close eye on him.
She retrieved the remote control and flicked the monitor on, getting comfortable on the sofa. She used the buttons to move from room to room, but didn’t see him in any of them. Then the gym filled the screen. A small choking sound came from her throat, and she dropped the remote when her fingers went limp.
She’d found him. He lay on a bench, knees bent, feet flat to the floor on either side. He wore only a pair of baggy yellow shorts with an elastic waist. His chest was bare except for the mat of kinky black hair and the beads of moisture clinging. He pressed a bar with several disks at each end. His face contorted as he pressed. Sweat made a sheen over his nose and forehead. He clenched his teeth, his lips pulling away from them each time he pushed the bar up, away from his body.
Toni stood slowly, her gaze magnetized by the image on the screen. His arms bulged with each repetition. His chest muscles expanded, his pectorals rippling with the effort. She dropped to her knees and felt around for the remote, found it and thumbed the volume control without looking. She heard him grunt now, with every repetition. He didn’t count, only emitted a guttural “ummf.” The sound seemed forced from him.
She’d known he was big. She’d felt the hardness of his body whenever she’d had physical contact with him. She’d felt the bulge of those muscles beneath his clothes when he’d held her close to him—but, dear God in heaven, she hadn’t imagined he looked like that. She could only imagine how he’d feel….
Her eyes rounded and Toni flicked the power button off and sat there, blinking at the now-dark screen. Her stomach had a tiny lead ball resting right in its center. God, her throat was dry. She couldn’t swallow.
She went to the kitchenette and opened a cupboard for a glass. She needed to drink something. When she glanced up, the rounded, amber-colored glass caught her gaze. It lay on its side, bottom facing out, on the top shelf—an extra bottle of that Jack Daniel’s Nick was always feeding to Lou Taranto. Toni pulled a kitchen chair closer and told herself it was only to help her sleep.
Chapter 5
Nick stretched his hour-long workout into two and then some. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed it until he got started. By the time he began to feel a little
of the tension slip away, he’d pretty much exhausted himself. He spent another hour in the pool trying to cool down and relax.
When he finally showered and went back upstairs, the apartment was silent. He opened the bedroom door and peeked in. Antonia was curled on his bed, breathing deeply. There was a glass with a bit of amber liquid in the bottom on the stand beside the bed. Frowning, Nick moved quietly across the room, picked the glass up and sniffed. Whiskey. The little Gypsy had been snooping again.
He looked down at her and wondered why she felt in need of a shot. Was she that wrought up over her mother? She stirred and sighed. The light from the living room spilled through the slightly opened door and shone on her hair, so it gleamed like a raven’s wing. For one wild instant, he had the insane urge to bend over her and kiss her lips—to taste the flavor of the whiskey on them and the flavor of her behind them. He shook himself and turned to leave the room. God knew what she’d think if she woke and found him standing over her.
It was tough to leave, though. He wasn’t sure why it gave him such a rush to look at her as she slept. It couldn’t have been that glorious hair all over the place, or that she hugged his pillow to her like a lover. It couldn’t be because, in this light, her skin was the color of cinnamon or that he could see the dampness and smell the soap from her recent shower.
He made himself take a step toward the door. She moaned softly in her sleep, and he stopped.
“Mmm,” she mumbled again. And then, in a whisper, “Nick.”
She could have hit him with a hammer and done less damage. She’d whispered his name in her sleep—and she’d said it as if…
He stepped closer and sat down gently on the edge of the bed. He smoothed the hair away from her face and looked at her. Her eyes opened slowly, and for an elastic moment she gazed up at him, a lazy smile curving her lips. Her hands came up to cover his, where it rested on her cheek. She blinked.
Reckless Angel Page 7