“Friend of yours, Harley?” asked Hannah, backing up to the kitchen sink.
“I’m working a case,” answered Dante.
Out of the corner of her eye Hannah’s head bobbed back and forth at the two of them. Harley raised an eyebrow. “Your case brought you here? To my house?”
Dante nodded his dark hair. Whatever gel he used in his hair now vanished. His dark locks fell forward emphasizing his bad boy look. He still wore his dark slacks, but the jacket and tie were gone, and shirt loosened at his throat. Whiplash panged her neck and she resisted smiling at last night’s memory. The suit. It had to be the suit. Maybe since she spent most of her undercover days with men in uniform, suits attracted her. No, she shook her head, at fifteen years of age she had a fixation for a sharp dresser.
A well-tailored suit did the same thing to her as lingerie on women did to men. She should know better after crashing and burning for a hot guy. Maybe her mouth watering was a knee jerk response because she knew exactly what Dante worked with underneath. To complete his professional attire, he carried a small black briefcase, probably containing a laptop.
“I need to see what is on your phone, Harley, but first I’m going to need you to lower your weapon.”
“You couldn’t knock?” Harley steadied her hand. “How the hell did you find out where I live?”
“I could have knocked but I don’t want my suspect to flee.”
Her heart raced with anger. “Suspect? What in the hell is going on?”
Clearing his throat, Dante raised his hands to show he was not armed or dangerous. “Harley, what I have to tell you, I don’t want you to take the wrong way.”
Harley put her free hand on her hip. “You break into my house and call me a suspect?”
“No.”
“You didn’t just break in my house?” She turned and glanced at Hannah, white as a sheet. “Hannah, go upstairs.”
“I’m not leaving you with this creep.”
“I’m not here to hurt you,” Dante said taking another step inside the kitchen, his dark eyes darted back and forth between them, “either one of you. I just need to see what’s on your phone.”
For the fourth time now, he wanted her phone starting from when they first met. This morning at his place he wanted to hold her phone, at the crime scene and now here he was again. Shame washed over her. He’d been playing her all along. “You sonofabitch.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“Harley, what’s going on?” Hannah asked shakily.
Dante turned his dark gaze to Hannah, his smile softened the mood in the kitchen. “I work for the FBI, Hannah.”
Hannah turned her gaze to Harley. “This is your FBI guy?”
The corners of Dante’s talented mouth turned upwards, “I’m your FBI guy?”
Now it sounded silly to put ownership to him. Harley resisted the feeling of a blush. She avoided his eye contact, rolling her eyes; she looked back at her niece. “Obviously not.”
“Well, how do you know my name?”
“I know all about you, Hannah.”
Harley turned her gun sideways at him and squared her shoulders. “Okay, I am officially creeped out.”
“I’m here because of the creeping,” he said with a chuckle. This was no laughing matter. “The creeping, is it? Don’t you kids call it photo-bombing now?”
Squeezing the grip of her weapon, Harley cleared her throat. “You’ve got two seconds before I shoot you.”
“Stand down, Harley. I told you last night I am here on business. I work for the Organized Crime Unit. Your niece and her friends took some pictures last night and posted them to social media. They blurred out the alleged suspects but when the pictures came over the wire it picked up a hit.”
“Since when is taking pictures something the FBI monitors?” Thanks to a few whistleblowers, the FBI working Homeland Security Act disengaged themselves from any activity. Her unit handled surveillance and did the hard work. If the agency did well, politicians took the credit.
“It’s not a crime. I need to see the picture so I can verify things. My suspect is in town. My department’s involvement caught a facial recognition scan when his face was posted to Face Book. I need to view the source.”
At that moment Harley’s phone dinged, indicating it was finished downloading. She lowered her gun back into the front pocket of her robe. All three of them looked at the mobile device sitting on the countertop. “Well, let’s just take a look.”
Hannah sat back on the stool while Dante hovered over Harley’s shoulder. She was all too aware of Dante’s closeness, his hard chest and abs against her back. His breath smelled of sugary doughnuts, most particularly the cherry filled ones- her favorite. Harley tossed a glance over her shoulder and realized he’d broken in to the box of pastries on the island. Rolling her eyes, Harley cleared her throat and tried to focus on the phone in her hand.
An image slowly came into focus. Harley recognized Hannah right off the bat. She stood behind a table with two men smiling at a camera off to their right. Hannah stood to the left and was holding up her two fingers in a peace sign. Harley recognized the crimson color of the oxford shirt on one of the boys. And at the table sat two men, one in a black suit, and the other in white. They were in what appeared a very intense conversation. The guy in black was none other than Christopher Alfaro. Dante seemed to recognize the other guy seated with Alfaro. He pressed his index finger over the picture of the man in the white suit.
“This is my guy.”
“What does this mean?” Harley asked, stepping forward, away from him. The heat from his body unnerved her with sexual distraction.
“It means Leonardo is here in town and your niece and her friends have captured them on film when they photo-bombed this meeting.”
Shaking her head Hannah stood, leaned forward on her hands and stared at the picture. “Those guys were all serious. We had to creep in it.”
Dante shook his head and let out a sigh. “Yes, but you posted it to FaceBook.”
“Mine didn’t post.”
“Someone did. They tagged you in the photograph. The global positioning of this phone is what brought me here to you.”
Harley turned around and found herself in a half embrace. Dante’s strong arm leaned against the counter framing her body. Given her experience working with the Government, Harley did not have a lot of faith in the FBI. When did they get so concerned they sent a man to investigate? “Is Hannah in trouble?”
“I can’t press charges against her for taking a picture.”
“You know what I mean.” Then before she said another word she ordered Hannah to go upstairs and get Javier. When she and Dante were alone in the room she was able to look Dante in the eye. “Is Hannah safe?”
“I don’t know.”
The honest answer unsettled her. “How dangerous is this guy?”
“Remember the kid on the street this morning?”
A wave of nausea washed over her. The walls of her mouth were watering. “Hannah said Javier’s brother is missing and did you notice the color of his shirt?”
“The police never got a name on the boy,” he took the phone and scrolled to the next picture. Harley leaned in to look. He set the phone back down on the counter. “My gut tells me he might be him.” Dante ran his large hands through his dark hair. “I need to get you guys some place safe.”
“I’m not going to argue with you.”
Chapter 3
Dante hadn’t expected an argument from Harley. A career around cops, she had to have some common sense. Her intelligence might just bite him in the ass. She caught on quickly to his scheme. The corners of her pouty pink lips flat lined, her eyes narrowed down her pert nose at him. For a moment pin pricks from the proverbial daggers she shot him poked his skin.
“Harley,” he said softly and reached for her hand. She recoiled, clutching her hand to the opening of her white robe. She’d obviously showered not too long ago. He picked up on her attire w
hen he walked through her doors, but now alone, his body had time to react and appreciate. He cleared his throat, remembering he needed to stay focused, even though he found watching droplets of water spiral down her curls into the material of her robe overtly arousing.
“Don’t bother explaining,” she rolled her eyes, “I understand the way this business works. I just don’t particularly like being lied to on top of being used.”
“I think we both used each other last night.”
Her dark eyes rolled back toward his and the daggers deepened. “Don’t go there with me, Dante. You came here because you were looking for this Leonardo guy and now you’ve got your link.”
The truth hit him in the gut. Dante cleared his throat, again. A sniffle escaped her nose and knowing he hurt her, Dante gave himself the asshole of the month award. “Harley, I still need to make sure you’re safe until I have the cuffs on Leonardo.”
“Sure, and then you can go.”
“Are you looking for a commitment now? You made yourself loud and clear.”
Harley inhaled deeply. A flash of red touched her cheeks. Those kissable pink lips of hers pressed together, biting her tongue from saying anything rash. “Seriously, Dante? At least, I was honest with you. I guess you got two for one last night, a good lay and your contact.”
Before trying to clear his name, Dante took a step back and listened at the arch for a double set of footsteps from both kids. He didn’t want to discuss what they did last night with prying ears. “Yes, I needed your phone, I had no idea I’d be so attracted to you when I found you. We clicked.”
Her upper lip curled in disgust. “Save it,” she scoffed, waving her hand in the air. “I need to get dressed before Javier gets down here.”
She whisked him off with a flick of her left hand, the ring finger void of the band he’d placed on it during their vows. Of course, he’d only seen the ring on her finger for a few hours but she already looked naked without it. He curled his hand together, thumbing the piece of gold around. Why did he still sport it? Left alone in the kitchen, Dante helped himself to another pastry, a cannoli this time. The tasty filling oozed against his hand that he eagerly licked up with his tongue.
Dante realized she’d left him alone in her kitchen. She may have thought he was an ass but at least she trusted him alone. Most of his team wouldn’t have done so in fear of him eating them out of house and home. Dante peered around inside Harley’s fridge. Tupperware bowls of various shaped pasta, a pan of lasagna covered in foil and a bowl filled with perfectly spherical meatballs. Parsley and cheese peeked in and out of the meat. His stomach grumbled. He wondered if she’d get ticked off if he threw a few in a pan. Closing the door, Dante decided against it. With the amount of food she had stored away she might have been saving for a banquet or something. He’d hate for cops to miss out. If they tasted as good as they smelled, the boys in blue were in for a treat.
Hard to believe she worked with cops, Harley came off way too trusting. She did, after all, leave her front door unlocked. These ladies had no idea of the slaughter he’d saved them from. Hannah and her friends captured Leonardo on film. The flipside meant Leonardo had Hannah and her friends on his film. He and Harley shared the same train of thought; the kid on the street fit in to this puzzle. Dante did not look forward to breaking the news to his brother or his family.
One of the hardest parts of law enforcement was telling a family their loved one was deceased. In this case, the loved one was brutally murdered. Even more important in this case was that the victim was connected to Harley. Seeing Harley at work today had tugged at some strings he wasn’t used to. He didn’t want her or her loved ones hurt.
Trying to get his mind off of any unwarranted feelings, Dante took the phone and sent the images to his cell and to his laptop. He needed to get the images to the brainiac of the team, Elliot Ash, so he could analyze the person Leonardo was shaking hands with in the photo. Leonardo didn’t make friends; he made business arrangements. Dante didn’t have family, at least not like the bond Harley had with her niece. He turned around and looked at the refrigerator. The door, covered with school art from the ages, told the story of two close people.
Bright rainbow colored magnets held up snap shot pictures of Harley and Hannah along with another couple on the door. A lot could be learned about an individual by looking at their fridge. Dante’s attention hovered over one picture. The older couple were probably her grandparents or parents, one could not be too sure. Everyone favored each other. Harley received her thick dark hair from her mother. Her almond shaped dark eyes belonged to her father. Even though he’d known Harley for less than twenty-four hours, he still recognized the false smile she gave the camera.
A blue-green beach filled the background of the photograph. Blue skies and a picnic table filled with food; cutlets, pastas, and breads. Because most fathers sat at the head, Dante found it safe to believe the salt and pepper haired man to be her father. Harley was seated next to her father. Beside her sat another man who had the same olive complexion and facial features. He must have been her brother. Another woman sat on the other side of her brother, and the two of them beamed with their arms around Harley. Harley’s face struck a chord with Dante. She’d thinned out since the picture but there was no mistaking the frown. She looked utterly miserable and he wanted to fix whatever bothered her. Dante’s eye twitched. He had the skills to fix any vehicle and sew up any man. He had no idea where to start with Harley. And he had no idea where this desire came from to remedy things for her.
The little Intel he’d gathered on Harley after she left this morning told him she had a much older brother and sister. Harley must have been one of those surprise babies for her older parents. The sister lived down south with her own children; her brother had just one. Harley, who’d be thirty-three this winter, remained single, until now. A crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Are you done gathering your information on my family?”
At the sound of her voice, filled with annoyance, Dante turned and exhaled deeply when he wanted to whistle. She’d changed out of her robe into a pair of shorts trendy for a seventeen year old, but he wasn’t going to complain. The dark short denim length gave him a view of her long shapely legs. His torso, bruised from her vice-like grip, witnessed the power behind them. The memory flooded his brain. Blood pulsated through his body. He wanted nothing more than to caress the smooth soft skin of her stems and throw them over his shoulders; but to stand back and look at them now, Dante had to recall the starting line-up for the Boston Red Sox, a tough feat considering he did not give a shit about them, but he needed to remain a shred of professionalism.
She wore a white tank top, one he was pretty sure was one he had on last night. “Did you steal my shirt?” Flattered she cared, the corners of his mouth tugged a smile.
“You think you’re the only guy I’ve slept with who wears A-shirts?”
Ouch, he thought. The little bubble of flatter fizzed. His brows raised together a new emotion, one he never experienced before. Who in the hell had she been sleeping with who left a shirt large enough to fit a six-foot-five frame? The lead detective today? He barely made Dante’s height. But they did have a weird interplay. Did something happen between them? Or was it one of the firemen who helped her up into the cherry picker bucket so she could take aerial pictures of the tire marks? Clearly uncomfortable with thoughts he didn’t know what to do with, Dante cleared his throat for the third time. Allergies perhaps?
He flattened his lips wiping away any trace of emotion and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, my bad. Husbands?”
“Why would I be at a bar whining about not being married?”
Dante shrugged, what did he know about women? The most he’d gotten to know about them was what they liked for breakfast and half the time he’d emotionally checked out. “I don’t know, maybe you were engaged or something and he left you.”
The way her eyes bore down on him he felt the sear of heat. “Do
I strike you as someone a man would leave?”
Actually, Harley Tomasello struck him as the type of woman who would eat her prey before leaving the bed. The thought frightened him and excited him at the same time. Chet warned him about pissing her off. He shook his head.
“Thank you.”
“So, did they come down yet?” Harley asked, nodding her head toward the other side of the arch toward the stairs. Upstairs, drawers moved opened and closed. Careful footsteps moved around on the carpet.
“No.”
Harley pulled herself onto the barstool furthest away from him, putting the blue tiled island between them. Oh, the things he could do to her here. He cleared his throat to get the thought out of his head. He needed to concentrate but she made it difficult. Her still wet hair, which hung loose, caused the front of her shirt to dampen. Perversion came so quickly when Harley came around. He needed to concentrate on this case. Dante reached into his briefcase for his laptop and set it on the countertop. Once on, he clicked on his email and downloaded the pictures. Elliott already sent him a police lineup with a replica of the local police station and it generated a line up along with pictures of other people fitting the mystery man. Dante scanned one of the pictures of the men at the table, Christopher Alfaro, a seasoned drug dealer from this area. Word on the street, Leonardo wanted to make bigger connections than his father and make himself a name.
The small printer from his brief case hummed and shot out two pieces of paper. Dante held the documents toward the light from the yellow curtained window over the sink. Harley didn’t strike him as the soft yellow type of girl, but the accents in the kitchen worked well. Royal blue dishes drip-dried in the double sink. The yellow softened her. He imagined her at the stove stirring a pot of sauce. His body stiffened. Even the thought of her cooking turned him on.
“Hannah,” Harley pushed away from the island and leaned toward the arched doorway to yell once again for her niece. “Hannah, you guys come down here.”
Mr. and Mrs. Rossi Page 4