Her parents would have liked him. Automatically, she fingered the pendant she was never without. A small gold pencil with a diamond at the tip hung from a thin gold chain. A present from her mother upon Scout’s graduation from college.
“Pretty,” Nicco said. “Something tells me there’s a story behind it.”
“There is. My parents gave me a car when I graduated from college, not a new one, but better than the beater I’d been driving. Mama wanted to give me something personal as well.” Once more, Scout touched the pencil. “She had a jeweler make this. I’ve never taken it off.”
Thoughts of her parents, their love for her, the vow she’d made to expose the truth about their murders, intruded on her enjoyment of the moment, and she pushed her plate away.
“Not hungry?” he asked.
“I lost my appetite.”
Nicco studied her. “You’re biting the inside of your cheek because you want to say something and don’t know if you should.”
“There’s something you don’t know.”
“Now’s the time to tell me. Spill it.”
“There might be another reason someone wants me out of the way.”
He got it. “Your parents.”
“How did you know?”
“When Olivia asked me to keep an eye on you, I did a background check. Same as I’d do on anyone,” he said.
Her chin came up. “What did you come up with?”
“Your mother was writing another true-crime book, this one about union murders.” The topic of Georgette McAdams’s new book wasn’t common knowledge, but Nicco must have done some digging. “You’re finishing what she started.” His lips thinned to a hard line. “Whoever’s after you thinks she left you her notes, her research. They’re afraid you’re getting too close.”
“My mother had been receiving threats before she died. The carjacking was too convenient to be random.”
“If you’re right and you keep asking questions, you could be digging yourself the same grave.”
She flinched but held his gaze. “I have to do this.”
“You’re in way over your head. You’ve got to see that.” Urgency leaked through the words.
Her jaw set. “You have a job to do. So do I.” She folded her arms over her chest, hoping he took the hint that the matter was closed.
Nicco must have gotten the message for he turned his gaze to the embroidered plaque on the kitchen wall. Great moments often catch us unaware—beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one. “I like that.”
She followed his gaze. “Thanks. Olivia gave it to me when I moved in.”
“What’s a great moment in your life?”
She didn’t have to think about it. “When I saw my first byline. It was a small thing—like the plaque says—but it was everything to me.” She cocked her head. “What about you?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Holding my first niece in my arms. I’ve never felt such pure joy.”
“What about children of your own?” It was an extremely personal question, but she couldn’t keep the words back.
“Like I said—not in the future for me.”
Why not? The words trembled on her lips, but she bit them back. “You never know,” she said lightly.
“What about you? Do you want children?”
“A houseful. I always wanted brothers and sisters when I was growing up.” Regret wadded up in her throat as she realized that she may never achieve this dream. How could she have a family when she couldn’t trust men? “I love your big family.” She’d met the Santonnis, minus Nicco, at Olivia and Sal’s wedding and had been immediately charmed by them.
Only later had she learned that Nicco had been called back to Afghanistan to help teach the defusing of explosives to new members of his unit.
His smile was wry. “It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be. Always waiting for the bathroom comes to mind.”
“You wouldn’t trade them for the world.” A knot of longing bordering on envy lodged in her throat. The Santonni family was everything she’d dreamed. Once again, she was forced to acknowledge that she may never have that for herself.
“You’re right. We’re big, loud, and everybody talks over everyone else.”
“It’s wonderful.” Her sigh was wistful.
“That’s one way of describing it.”
“For me, family means love. ‘Eternity is where true love exists.’ That’s what my father had engraved on my mother’s wedding ring.” Her voice broke a little. “They were so much in love. Sometimes, when I’m missing them, I think of that and it makes it hurt a little less to know that they’re together.” Tears gathered in her eyes. She started to swipe at them when he took her hand in his.
“You don’t have to be ashamed of hurting. Pain is the price for loving.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not telling me that the pain will go away. When...it...happened, that’s what everyone said. ‘Don’t worry. The pain will go away in time.’ But it hasn’t. I don’t think it ever will.”
“The pain doesn’t go away because your love hasn’t gone away. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“No,” she said slowly. “I wouldn’t.”
* * *
Nicco hoped he hadn’t blundered. Pretty talk wasn’t his style, but he’d spoken from the heart and maybe he hadn’t done too badly.
It was obvious that Scout was still raw from her parents’ murders. Grief didn’t have a timetable. Look at him. He was still grieving over Ruth’s death, and that had been nearly three years ago.
Her voice was soft with the South lilting through it. Too soft to be talking about murder. Especially the murder of her parents, a murder that took place a scant year ago.
He was curious about Scout. For professional reasons only, he tried to convince himself. But he knew deep inside that the curiosity wasn’t just professional, and he found that he wanted to know her better. There were shadows in her eyes, hinting that she’d learned some things the hard way. Was it the obvious—the murder of her parents—or something more?
“Is there someone special in your life?”
She shook her head. “Not since my fiancé dumped me.”
“What happened?”
“Bradley Middleton showed up in my life shortly after my parents were killed, just when I needed a prince charming.”
“And?”
“He took me out, treated me like a princess. Within a couple of weeks, he asked me to marry him. I said yes. I can’t believe how stupid I was. I started planning a wedding and Bradley left for New York.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah. Just like that.”
“Has there been anyone since?”
“No. I’d rather stay home with a good book than be set up on a blind date. Or go to a singles’ event.”
“You and me both.”
“It’s better to be alone than to be with someone who isn’t right. My mother always told me not to settle. To hold out for my ‘one and only.’”
“Your fiancé was a jerk. He didn’t deserve you.”
“That’s what I told myself.” A mischievous smile turned up her lips. “Bradley’s the kind of man who lights up a room by leaving it.”
Nicco laughed deeply.
She directed a laser-sharp gaze at him. “What about you?”
“I stick to work.”
“Looks like we have that in common.”
They sat back and regarded each other.
“You’re not so bad, Santonni,” she said at last.
“Same goes, McAdams.”
The accord between them startled Nicco. The last thing he wanted was to fall for a reporter. With that self-administered reminder, he reined in the unwanted feelings Scout roused in hi
m and did what he did best: the job.
* * *
Scout had a network of CIs, just as the police had theirs. Confidential informants were a reporter’s bread and butter. The best CIs were clued in to what was hot on the street often before the cops were.
So when Bug called, saying he had information about Crane, she could hardly contain her excitement. Bug, aka Terrence Howard, had given her viable tips in the past. She’d asked him to keep his ear to the ground for any information about union bosses, especially Leonard Crane.
Not only was Bug plugged in to what went on in the shadier parts of the city, he was a veritable genius when it came to computers. Give him a lead and he’d ferret out any and everything there was to be found.
“When and where?” she asked.
He gave her a time and location.
“I’ll be there.”
She relayed the information to Nicco, who frowned when he heard the location. “No way. That area’s bad news.”
“It’s not the best,” she agreed. “But I didn’t have a choice.”
“Of course you did. You could have said no.”
“This is important. Bug may have stumbled across something big. He’s come through for me before.”
“Doesn’t mean he can’t be used to get to you.” Frustration edged Nicco’s words.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Maybe you’ve forgotten about the shots and the falling beams.”
“I haven’t forgotten anything. Including watching my parents being murdered.”
When she grabbed her purse, Nicco blocked her way. “I don’t like it. I can meet your CI for you.”
“He’s not going to talk to you.” Bug was skittish at best. He’d scurry away like a scared rabbit if he saw Nicco, big and tough and totally intimidating, arrive in her place.
“I smell a setup. If you weren’t so intent on getting the goods on Crane, you’d see it, too. Think. Why is this guy calling you now? When was the last time you heard from him?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“Don’t you get it? He wants to get you alone. Make you vulnerable.”
“You’ll be with me.” She was confident Nicco would keep her safe. He tried to stare a capitulation out of her—she recognized the tactic, having used it herself on reluctant interview subjects—but she wasn’t giving in.
“Doesn’t mean you don’t have to act smart. You’ve let this obsession blind you. Listen to your gut,” he said. “I learned that on the schoolyard. Nothing changed when I was deployed. Your gut feels things before your head can process them. What is your gut telling you right now?”
“It’s telling me I have to do this.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and threw back her shoulders, settling the matter. “I’m going. The question is, am I going alone?”
SIX
Even at 11:00 p.m., the streets weren’t empty. Nor were they quiet. But the noises were of a different type than those of the day. Furtive. Sly. Several men and a few women loitered in the doorways of buildings long since abandoned.
Those brave enough to dare to visit this sector of the city knew the wisdom of keeping gazes averted, hands in their pockets. Occasionally a curious look was directed at Scout and Nicco, but it was quickly redirected, as though whoever dared to commit the act of meeting a stranger’s gaze in this no-man’s land understood the folly of the breach of protocol.
An overturned car, windows smashed and tires stripped, slumped in the middle of the street, graffiti scrawled across the door. A single streetlight cast a weak yellow glow, a stalwart holdout in an area where every other light had either burnt out or been knocked out.
Night pressed in on her from all sides, causing Scout to tremble; she felt Nicco’s arm drop reassuringly across her shoulders. Though she told herself she could have handled the meeting on her own, she pressed closer to him, grateful for his presence. He carried himself with a quiet grace. He wasn’t quite as big as his brother, but he still topped six feet by a good three inches.
A quick movement at her side caused her to jump, heart in her throat. She swallowed thickly. “Bug.”
Bug, named for his oversize glasses, gave a little giggle. “McAdams. You came.” A frown dug its way between his brows as he took in Nicco’s presence. “You was s’pposed to come alone.”
“Get over it,” Nicco said. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Bug’s gaze darted from Nicco to Scout and back again. “Okay. I guess.”
Scout knew her part. “Did you bring what you said you would?”
Bug nodded. “Don’t I always deliver?” He had contacts all over the city. As he was fond of saying, what he didn’t know or couldn’t find out wasn’t worth knowing or finding.
She didn’t pay for information—no reputable reporter did—but she compensated Bug in other ways. His sister was in the shelter where Scout volunteered. Because of Bug’s lifestyle, he didn’t feel he could visit her there. Scout made sure the girl had the little extras that meant so much, like her favorite shampoo, new jeans, an occasional pair of the latest sneakers.
“Uh, Ms. McAdams, I ’ppreciate what you’ve done for Janeen.” Though Bug had thanked her over the course of their relationship, there was an urgency to his words that was new.
“I’m happy to help her.” The truth was, Scout would have helped the girl regardless of her arrangement with Bug, but she knew it was important to him that he give something in return.
“I know. Still...thanks.”
Tension in Bug’s voice alerted her that something was off, but she couldn’t identify what it was. Fear whispered through her.
Even in the dim light, she could make out the sweat on his palms, the jittery dance of his feet on the wet pavement. Why was he so nervous?
Scout looked at the drive in her hand. If Bug had come through, she’d be that much closer to proving that Crane was involved in the murders of four union bosses and that of her parents.
Nicco nudged her elbow. “Time to go.” Urgency scraped his voice, as though he, too, had picked up on Bug’s nerves.
“Okay.” She turned to say goodbye to Bug, but he’d already melted into the night.
Nicco nudged her forward. “C’mon. Something doesn’t feel right.” As though conjured up by his words, two shadows loomed before them. “Stay behind me,” he said in a low voice. “What’s up, guys?”
“We just want a word with the lady here,” the larger of the men said, wielding a broken beer bottle. “We got no beef with you, so you can get lost. No harm, no foul.”
Nicco broadened his stance. “Not gonna happen.”
“Too bad. Hate to mess up that pretty face of yours.” The last was said with a sneer.
Scout squinted to make out the men’s faces. “Who are you?”
“Us? You could say that we’re messengers. Someone wants you to mind your own business. You poked your nose where it don’t belong one too many times.”
The two men separated, the smaller one advancing toward Scout while Nicco took on the larger of the two. She knew her way around a fight. After her parents’ deaths, she’d made sure she could take care of herself. She didn’t wait for the attack but shot out her arm. The base of her palm torqued off a rigid arm for maximum power, and she drilled her hand into his nose.
Blood spurted and poured down his face, and he automatically put his hands up to staunch the flow. She pressed her advantage and gave a high kick to his thigh.
The hatred in his eyes promised retribution. When he moved in, she went to a crouch. “You think you’re gonna take me down, little girl?”
“I aim to try.”
His superior strength was in his favor, but she wasn’t without moves of her own.
When he drew back to punch her, she trapped his hand, rotated against the joint, then rolled over, bring
ing him with her to the ground.
The breath knocked out of him, he didn’t immediately get up. She took advantage of that and flipped to her feet. While her moves were first-rate, courtesy of her sensei, her opponent had the advantage of a longer reach and greater strength.
By this time, he had gotten to his feet as well. She kept a distance between her and the man who looked at her like she was prey to his hunter. The gleam in his eyes and curl of his lips told her that was exactly how he thought of her and that he was enjoying the fight.
Every fight scene she’d witnessed in action movies came back to her, and she fought the urge to taunt him with something ridiculous like “You want a piece of me? Bring it on.”
Though she was a small enough target as it was, she angled her body so that her silhouette provided even less mass and shifted her weight forward on the balls of her feet to give her next move greater momentum, then delivered an elbow directly to his gut, sending him to his knees. A final kick to his chest sent him sprawling to the ground once more. The surprise on his face would have been comical if she’d been in the mood to laugh. As it was, she was scrabbling for any advantage.
He let out a hoarse whuff, but he still had some fight in him. Rage flaring in his eyes, he snagged her ankle, yanked her to the ground alongside him. She did a face-plant on the filthy street. Her vision grayed, and she struggled against unconsciousness. She fought against it and, seeing the man’s gun holstered at his side, grabbed it and held it on him as she got to her feet.
“You fight like a little girl,” she said.
The glare the assailant sent her way was full of hatred, but she didn’t flinch under it. Instead, she lifted her chin and stared him down, all the while keeping the weapon trained on him.
In the meantime, Nicco was dealing with the other man. Nicco rammed his fist into his opponent’s jaw. The man staggered, lurched to the side but didn’t go down. Nicco moved to his left, hunkered over, then grabbed his man’s leg and ripped it off the ground. While the man floundered, Nicco propelled him sideways so that he toppled onto his buddy.
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