Angela hesitated, as torn now as she’d been when she made the call. She hadn’t betrayed Jack’s confidences then. She couldn’t now. But holding back wrenched something deep and fundamental inside her.
She’d always told Tony everything. Well, almost everything. Every childish dream. Every girlhood crush. She’d shared the joys and disappointments in her life, and the dangerous excitement of his. He’d guided her, encouraged her, protected her...until she made it clear she didn’t want or need big brother’s protection any longer.
Unable to give him the explanation he demanded, Angela took refuge in a cowardly delaying tactic.
“Why don’t we go inside? Get out of the cold?”
The moment the door shut behind them, she realized her mistake. As a kid, Tony had spent as many weekends out at the shanty as she had. He knew exactly what the cabin offered in terms of sleeping accommodations. His gaze zeroed in on the armchair, still littered with Uncle Guido’s fishing gear and a collection of racing magazines, then whipped to the narrow bed. That, unfortunately, still carried the evidence of its recent occupancy.
His hands curled into fists. He turned to face Jack, who met his accusing stare head-on.
She didn’t need this, Angela thought. With everything else that had happened to her in the past twenty-four hours, she didn’t need the brother she loved coming to blows with the man she—Her racing thoughts stumbled to a halt. The man she what?
She’d have to figure out that one later. Right now, though, she’d better defuse the situation before Uncle Guido’s cabin went the way of the Chrysler.
“You taught me to take care of myself, Tony,” she said, planting herself firmly between the two men. “You also taught me to make my own decisions. Whatever happened or didn’t happen here last night is my business.”
He didn’t like it. She could see it in his face and in the way he rolled his shoulders back, like a bull terrier scenting a rat.
Jack didn’t like it, either. His jaw squaring, he edged Angela to one side and faced her brother.
“Whatever happened or didn’t happen here last night is my business, too. Do you have a problem with that, Paretti?”
“I might,” Tony drawled, in deliberate imitation of Jack’s accent. “I just might.”
The testosterone was so thick, it could have been cut with a knife. An apt metaphor, Angela thought in disgust.
“I give up!” she told the two men. “Go ahead, pound each other into the floor, if it’ll make you both feel better. Just don’t expect me to stand here and watch.”
She stomped to the front door. “And don’t expect me to dispense tea and Band-Aids when you two get through. I’m going for a walk!” .
The door banged shut behind her. In the ensuing silence, neither man moved.
As he faced Paretti, Jack fought to bring the primitive combativeness pulsing through his veins under control. He knew damn well his own bristling hostility stemmed as much from long, tense weeks with the investigation team as from the gut-twisting few moments he’d just experienced. He also knew that his next move could make a serious difference to where he and Angela went from here.
“I don’t know about dispensing tea,” he said, measuring each word with care, “but I found some coffee in the cupboard.”
For several long seconds, Paretti seemed poised to reject the offer of a temporary truce. His shoulders rolled once more, and his dark eyes cut like lasers across the still, unmoving air.
“Forget the coffee,” he growled at last. “Uncle Guido keeps a supply of Strega on hand for emergencies. I think this qualifies.”
Jack thought so, too.
He’d drunk enough of the fiery liqueur last night to refrain from downing it in a couple of large swallows, as Tony did. Even with his more cautious approach, however, the pale liquid burned a track down the back of his throat. When it engaged in mortal combat with the grits and greasy crab cakes Jack had eaten for breakfast, a light sweat broke out on his brow.
Pulling out a chair, Tony planted himself at the table. “All right, Merritt. I want to know what’s going on.”
Jack took the opposite chair. “I can’t tell you. Not everything.”
“Give me the shortened version, then,” he said sardonically. “One I can give my mother. You better know that I’m under orders not to return to Baltimore without Angela...or a damned convincing explanation of why she’s not with me.”
When Jack hesitated, Paretti leaned forward, all trace of mockery gone. His face was serious. Dead serious.
“Is someone after my sister?”
“It’s possible the shooting on the bridge was a random act of violence,” Jack said slowly. “Angela got a glimpse of the driver, enough to do a composite. It’s also possible that the car bomb was an attempt to eliminate her as a witness.”
“Possible, but not probable?”
“Possible enough that I wanted to get her to a safe place while the police checked it out.”
“This seclusion was your idea?”
“That’s right.”
As Tony weighed the reply, the lambent hostility slowly drained from his face. He poured himself another shot of potent liqueur. When he looked up again, his eyes held a speculative look.
“Just how long have you known my sister?”
“I met her yesterday, when she picked me up at the airport.”
“Yesterday, huh?”
His glance dropped. Pale gold liquid coated the sides of the water glass as he tipped it from side to side.
“It happens like that sometimes,” he murmured, half to himself.
From the look on Paretti’s face, Jack guessed it had happened to him, too. But apparently Angela’s brother wasn’t any more sure what to do about it than she was. With a little shake of his head, Tony returned to the urgent matter that had brought him to the cabin.
“All right. We agree that it’s possible Angela’s the target of these attacks. If she is, I’ll know soon enough. If she’s not, we’ll know who is.”
Jack jerked up straight. “How the hell will you know that?”
A small, tight smile flitted across Tony’s face. “One of our relatives, currently retired, still maintains a few useful contacts on the streets.”
“Uncle Guido?”
“You know about him, do you?”
Jack nodded, satisfaction spearing through him at the idea of the former counterfeiter using his network of accomplices and acquaintances to complement the efforts of the police.
“I know enough about Uncle Guido to want to meet him before I leave Washington.”
“I think we can arrange that,” Tony replied dryly. “Unless you also want to meet my mother, though, and real soon, you’d better tell me what you really think is going on.”
Jack drew in a slow breath. He’d laid everything out for Angela. He couldn’t do the same for her brother, not in specific detail.
“All I can tell you is that I’m involved in an investigation into possible fraud and corruption by a major pharmaceutical distributor. The corporation in question doesn’t know about the investigation, or how much we’ve uncovered about their activities. But they’re nervous. Very nervous.”
“Even more nervous, now that you’re about to testify before a congressional subcommittee looking into medical reform legislation,” Tony guessed shrewdly.
“Possibly.”
He hooked a brow. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To testify?”
“That’s the reason the senator gave for his ‘invitation.’”
“What other reason could he have for hauling you up to D.C.?”
“I’ve been asking myself that, too.”
It took only a few seconds for Tony to grasp the implications of Jack’s neutral response, and even less time to reject it.
“If you think Henry Claiborne’s somehow involved in this fraud and corruption you talked about, you’re wrong. Flat wrong. I don’t believe it. You could produce a mountain of evidence, and I still wouldn
’t believe it. Neither would my sister.”
“So she informed me.”
Paretti leaned forward, his face carved in hard, unyielding angles. “In case you haven’t noticed, Merritt, Angela doesn’t do anything by halves. Those she loves, she loves wholly and unconditionally. I don’t know what’s happening or not happening between the two of you, but I’ll tell you this. She’ll never forgive you if you drag the senator’s name into the dirt.”
“Senator Claiborne’s cooperating in the investigation,” Jack replied evenly, but Tony’s warning was still echoing in his mind when Angela returned a little while later.
The cold wind had whipped flags of color into her cheeks and tossed her hair all over her head. In her grabbag ensemble of green sweatshirt, navy-and-tan football jacket, black skirt and gray athletic socks, she looked like a garage-sale junkie.
She stopped just inside the door, eyeing the dusty green bottle on the table with a lift of one brow.
“What is this, a change in tactics? Instead of beating each other into the ground, you’re going to see who can drink who under the table?”
Tony shoved back his chair. “The way I see it, I have two choices. I either bring you back to Baltimore with me, or I fortify myself with enough Strega to explain to Mom why I didn’t.”
“Then you’d better take the bottle with you,” she retorted.
Crossing to her side, Tony curled a knuckle under her chin and tilted her face to his.
“I don’t like this,” he said quietly. “I don’t like leaving you here, and I don’t like leaving with so many unanswered questions.”
She curled her hand over his. “I know, Tony. But I have to stay until those questions get answered. I owe the senator that much. We both do.”
“Yeah.” He brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Be careful, brat.”
“I will.”
Pulling his sunglasses out of his pocket, he tossed a curt order over his shoulder. “Walk outside with me, Merritt. I’ve got a few last words of advice for you that my sister doesn’t need to hear.”
Half-amused, wholly embarrassed, Angela didn’t even try to protest. Folding her arms, she leaned. against the door frame and watched the two men walk to the bright red Corvette. Tony’s mirrored glasses and upturned collar hid most of his expression from Angela. But there was no way she could miss the glint of sunlight on blue steel as he pulled a small snub-nosed revolver from his pocket and passed it to Jack.
Nor did she miss Jack’s cool confidence as he thumbed open the cylinder, examined its contents and snapped it back into place. After pocketing the weapon, he exchanged a few short sentences with Tony. A few moments later, the red Corvette headed down the narrow dirt track.
Feeling disconcerted and off balance after her brother’s unexpected visit, Angela accompanied Jack back into the cabin. While he locked the door and unloaded an assortment of bottles and weapons from his pockets, she decided she’d better get busy, as well.
Her most pressing task was to remove all evidence of the bed’s double occupancy before other visitors arrived—her mother, for instance. Despite Tony’s assurances that he’d do his best, Angela knew dam well that even he couldn’t keep Maria Paretti from descending on the cabin if she decided to provide personal protection for her chick.
Tugging one of the blankets from the narrow shelf, she hooked an edge under her chin and stretched to catch its corners. Of their own volition, her eyes lingered on the bed. She couldn’t quite believe that she and Jack had shared that small space last night. Or that she’d slept through the entire experience. The next time, though... Her pulse skittering wildly, she clutched the half-folded blanket to her chest.
The next time, she’d promised herself, she’d be awake.
The next time, Jack had said, would be for real.
“Need some help?”
Angela jumped half out of her sneakers. She’d been so absorbed in contemplating that shimmering, ephemeral next time that she hadn’t even heard his approach. Her cheeks warming, she turned and handed him the ends of the blanket.
“Yes, thanks. I thought I’d better straighten up. Just in case...”
“Just in case more of your family members arrive?” he asked, his eyes gleaming as he matched his corners to the ones in her hand. “Or in case they jump to more conclusions about last night?”
“Both,” she admitted, her face heating even more.
Turning away, she executed a somewhat sloppy fold and fumbled for the corners of the second blanket. This was ridiculous. Why in the world should this simple, shared task send shivers coursing through her? Why should she blush like a schoolgirl at the thought of these rough wool blankets wrapped around her and Jack last night?
Nothing had happened! Nothing, dam it.
The next time, though...
She had no business thinking about a next time, she told herself sternly. Not until this business with the senator was resolved. Not until she’d won Jack’s support for his proposed legislation. And certainly not until the police discovered who was behind these attacks.
It was stupid...dangerous...crazy...to dwell on the way her mouth had molded his in those breathless moments before Tony’s arrival. Or the way Jack’s body had hardened against hers. Or how much she wanted the next time to be right here, and right now.
They had only a few hours, she reminded herself. Just a few more hours, according to Jack’s estimate, until this special agent arrived or they left to go meet him. Angela wasn’t about to let this crazy, swirling need inside her push her into something she wasn’t quite ready for.
“You do this,” she said gruffly, thrusting the blanket into Jack’s hands. “I’ll pick up the rest of our things.” Breathing deeply to drag some air into her lungs, she scooped up the discarded sweater she’d tossed over the back of the big, cluttered armchair. With a quick roll, she tucked the black sweater into her purse. Since she’d have to wear the tunic when she returned to civilization, it received better treatment.
Smoothing a hand down its length to erase the wrinkles, she felt a bulge in one of the pockets. Frowning, she reached inside and closed her fingers around a wad of tissue. Something sharp sliced into her skin.
Her palm stinging, she withdrew her hand to find a piece of glass embedded deep in the heel of her hand. Before she could dig it out, blood welled around the small wound and ran down her wrist.
“Great,” she muttered, dropping the jacket to dab at the blood with the wadded tissue.
At her muted exclamation, Jack tossed the blanket down and strode to her side.
“What happened?”
“I forgot about the sliver of glass I dug out of your suit collar yesterday. The thing was in my pocket. Now it’s in my hand.”
“Here, let me.”
He took her hand and turned it palm up to the light streaming in through the windows. His touch gentle, he blotted the seeping blood.
“Looks like it’s in pretty deep. Come into the bathroom. We’ll wash the blood away and do an FOE.”
“What’s an FOE?” she asked suspiciously.
“Foreign Object Extraction,” he translated, holding her hand under a slow trickle of cold water. “Relax. I used to be a navy corpsman, remember? I’ve pulled all kinds of foreign bodies out of sailors and marines, some they wanted to get rid of, some they didn’t.”
“Oh, that’s comforting.”
Grinning, he bent to examine the embedded sliver. Angela’s shoulders brushed his as she angled to give him more room at the tiny sink.
“Hmmm.”
“Hmmm? That’s the best you can do? Just hmmm?”
“You don’t happen to have any tweezers in your purse, do you?”
“No. Everything else but,” she admitted, flinching a little at his gentle, exploratory squeeze. “Try the medicine cabinet. Uncle Guido laid in a store of emergency supplies after one of my cousins’ kids caught his brother on the end of a fishhook.”
Jack’s search of the mirrored cabinet above t
he sink turned up a half-used tube of antiseptic cream, a rusted tin of Band-Aids and an eyedropper, but no tweezers. Setting the cream and Band-Aids on the edge of the sink, he closed the mirror and tilted Angela’s hand to the light above it.
“I’ll have to dig it out. Hold still.”
She held still. He bent closer, steadying her hand with his as his fingers got a tentative grip on the slippery protruding edge. She breathed a sigh of relief as it came out cleanly. Jack dropped the glass onto the sink’s rim and folded a washcloth over the fresh welling of blood.
“Sit down. The bleeding should slow in a minute or two, then we’ll bandage you up.”
While Angela lowered the toilet lid and sat sideways on the only seat in the tiny bathroom, Jack twisted off the cap on the tube of antiseptic, then popped open the tin box and extracted some Band-Aids.
“Let’s see how you’re doing,” he said a few moments later.
She was doing fine...until he hunkered down on one heel beside her. Suddenly, the minuscule bathroom shrank to even smaller dimensions. He nudged her knees aside with his hips, and Angela found herself wedged between the solid, rough-planed pine wall and Jack’s equally solid frame.
She scooted over as far as she could to make room for him. Too late, she saw that the movement had parted the side slit in her skirt all the way up her thigh. Her bare thigh. She wiggled and reached across her lap with the opposite hand to draw her skirt closed.
“Hold still,” he commanded again.
Right. Uh-huh. She was supposed to hold still, with his warm breath washing her hand and her thigh? With his body caging hers? With her heart pounding out this slow, unsteady rhythm?
She slumped against the wall, repeating the litany she’d chanted just moments ago in the other room. This was stupid. Dangerous. Crazy! She shouldn’t ache to curl the fingers of her free hand in Jack’s dark hair. She shouldn’t want to slide off the john and into the vee between his legs.
She shouldn’t, but she did. More than she could ever remember wanting anything before.
The 14th... And Forever Page 12