The Redemption of Rico D'Angelo

by Michelle Douglas

  Her lips looked soft in the filtered light of the streetlights. He dragged his attention back to the road.

  ‘What I was sighing about is that this is the equivalent of my Saturday night and I’m probably going to be tucked up in bed by eleven p.m. I’m only twenty-five. How tragic is that?’

  He immediately pulled over and racked his brain for somewhere to take her. She deserved it after putting up with his family tonight. And she had defended him. He couldn’t forget that.

  ‘So I’d be correct in assuming a late night wouldn’t be unwelcome?’

  Even in the dim light of the car’s interior he could see the way her eyes lit up.

  She shook her head abruptly. ‘You have to work tomorrow.’

  He worked every day. Weekends made no difference to him. ‘I bet you’ve barely been out since you broke up with your jerk of an ex.’

  In the dark night she shivered. His hands clenched.

  ‘Are you up for an adventure?’ he asked.

  ‘I...’

  ‘The truth.’

  She lifted her hands and then let them drop. ‘I’d love an adventure.’

  * * *

  Rico had to bite back a laugh when Neen bounced up from the blackjack table, her grin set to split her face. ‘I won! Again.’ She clapped her hands and laughed. ‘Oh, Rico, thank you. This is the best fun.’

  She had colour in her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than he’d ever seen them.

  ‘I’ve lived my whole life in Hobart, but this is the first time I’ve been to the casino and the first time I’ve ever gambled.’

  The Wrest Point casino, with its plush interior and harbour views, was a Hobart landmark.

  ‘C’mon, I’ll teach you how to play craps.’

  Neen had as much fun at the craps table and then the roulette wheel as she’d had at blackjack. Watching her laugh and seeing the sparkle return to her eyes unclenched something in Rico’s chest. Neen laughed and he found it suddenly easy to grin. This sure beat sitting at home burning from his mother’s recriminations.

  He pushed that thought aside and concentrated on keeping Neen in an endless supply of chips, enjoying himself by proxy, holding his breath at each turn of the card or roll of the dice, her exhilaration when she won spinning through his blood.

  ‘Drink?’ he asked, long after Saturday had become Sunday and she’d finally finished the lemonade she’d been sitting on for over an hour.

  ‘I’d love one.’

  He led her to a vacant table with a magnificent view over the water and ordered her a glass of champagne. He threw caution to the wind and ordered a beer for himself. One drink wouldn’t hurt.

  One drink could lead to two, and—

  He cut the thought off. One drink wouldn’t lead to anything. He was no longer seventeen. He had a tight grip on himself now. He thought back to the way he’d just lost himself in Neen’s pleasure, her fun, and gritted his teeth.

  ‘Look,’ she said, sliding the cup of chips across to him. ‘We have more than we started with.’

  She was right. He pushed them back. ‘You won them.’

  ‘But you bought them in the first place. Don’t argue with me, Rico. I don’t care about the money, but...’

  His beer halted halfway to his mouth. ‘But?’

  ‘This—’ she gestured around ‘—is precisely what I needed. I...’ She turned shining eyes to him. ‘Thank you.’

  She tilted her glass towards him before taking a sip. His gut clenched as she swallowed, her eyes half closing in appreciation. The bubbles left a shine on her lips, and heat circled his groin in a slow, sensual dance.

  She glanced up, stilled at whatever she saw in his face, and then her blue eyes turned dark and smoky. Her lips parted and—

  They both snapped away.

  Rico ran a finger around his collar. ‘I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself. I’ve enjoyed myself too.’

  Which was true. He hadn’t cared if he’d emptied his pockets to ensure she’d had fun. And she had. He suspected her enjoyment had come from the novelty of the evening—of learning the rules of the games and the exhilaration of trying her hand at them. His enjoyment, though, had been completely wrapped up in her. Her simple delight had touched something inside him that had remained dormant for a very long time.

  He clenched a hand. It would have been better for his peace of mind if it had remained undisturbed. But when he glanced at her, at those shining eyes, he couldn’t regret it.

  He cleared his throat. ‘I know this is probably easy for me to say...’

  She dragged her gaze back from the harbour, with all of its twinkling lights and the myriad luxury yachts moored nearby. ‘Yes?’

  He leaned towards her and the soft scent of musk tickled his nostrils. Very slowly he breathed it in and tried to control the clamouring of his blood. ‘I don’t think you should let Chris turn you into a hermit.’

  She glanced down into her glass. ‘I know. I just...’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled almost apologetically.

  Heck, she didn’t have anything to apologise for.

  ‘After I took out the restraining order, all the harassment stopped and I thought it was over and done with. To have it start up again has thrown me into a spin. I don’t know why, but it seems more sinister now, somehow.’ She glanced around the room, her shoulders edging up towards her ears as if she expected Chris to suddenly appear.

  If he did, Rico would—

  He dragged a hand through his hair. Violence wasn’t the answer. That knowledge didn’t stop him from wanting to tear the unknown man limb from limb. Ten years ago he’d have hunted him out and done exactly that. And he’d have relished it.

  He’d relish it now too. And the realisation made him want to close his eyes.

  That said, no woman should have to live with this kind of fear. Rico slammed his beer to the table. ‘If I ever get my hands on that low-life, I will wring his neck!’

  She gave a short laugh. ‘In fairness, I can’t lay all the blame for my reclusiveness at Chris’s feet. Losing my grandfather has...’ She bit her lip and glanced back out of the window for a moment before turning back to him. ‘He knew about my dream to open a café. He encouraged it and told me I could achieve anything I wanted.’ She smiled, but it quickly faded. ‘We were close, and I miss him. I haven’t much felt like going out and having fun.’

  His heart ached for her. ‘I’m sorry, Neen.’

  ‘He’d been sick for a while.’ She shrugged and managed a smile that speared straight through him. ‘We had the chance to say all the things we wanted to and I’m grateful for that.’

  ‘It doesn’t mean you miss him any less.’

  ‘No.’ She stared down into her drink for a moment and then straightened. ‘He’d be appalled if he knew how small I was letting my life become. It occurred to me tonight that I’m still going to miss him regardless of anything else I do. So I may as well do good, positive things rather than sit around feeling sorry for myself.’

  He admired her strength, her spunk. ‘This is the same grandfather who left you the legacy that’s being contested?’

  A shadow chased itself across her face and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

  ‘That’s all in the lap of the courts now. There’s nothing I can do but wait and see how it plays out.’

  He shook his head. ‘You can’t catch a break right now, can you? That jerk of an ex, losing your grandfather and now this issue with the will.’ He scowled. No doubt by some avaricious long-lost relation who hadn’t even known the poor man but who was more than happy to turn up at the hint of money.

  Neen suddenly laughed. ‘I do, however—as you’ve pointed out on numerous occasions—have an interesting job.’

  It wasn’t her dream café, though. ‘Ar
e you enjoying it?’ It was suddenly supremely important that she was. If she wasn’t, he’d find a way to fix that. Somehow.

  ‘Yes, I really am.’

  A weight lifted from him.

  She pursed her lips and leaned back, a devilish light in her eyes. ‘Speaking of jobs... A doctor, Rico? Really?’

  He tried to smile but found he couldn’t. ‘You can’t imagine me in a white coat with a stethoscope hanging about my neck?’

  She shook her head. ‘I can see you in a white chef’s smock with a spatula in your hand.’

  He flinched. She hadn’t said it to punish him, but that didn’t stop him from reacting.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—’

  ‘Not your fault.’ He didn’t want her feeling bad on his account. She had enough to deal with. ‘As far as my mother’s concerned, a chef is a synonym for dogsbody.’

  Her brow crinkled. ‘But she’s a cook, and nobody could ever call her a dogsbody.’

  ‘It took her a long time to get where she is, to own her own restaurant. She really did put herself last to give us all a good education.’ He scraped a hand down his face. ‘She fought my brothers when they wanted to become chefs too.’

  ‘So all her hopes rested on you?’

  ‘My grades were good. And if it was what I’d wanted...’

  ‘But it wasn’t.’

  The understanding in her eyes was almost his undoing.

  She hesitated, and then leaned across and touched his hand. ‘Rico, believe me, I understand the urge to please a parent. But don’t you think it’s more important to be true to yourself? I get the impression that once your mother sees you’re happy she’ll reconcile herself to the disappointment.’

  If it were only his mother’s disappointment he had to deal with. But it wasn’t. He would never be able to make amends for Louis’s death. His best friend had died at the age of seventeen and Rico was responsible. He was the one who’d bought the drugs with money stolen from his mother’s purse. He was the one who’d offered them to Louis.

  His stomach churned and acid burned his throat. He could never give Louis back to his family. All he could do was make amends the only way he knew how—do all he could to protect vulnerable youth, to prevent them from making the same mistakes he and Louis had.

  He glanced at the lovely woman across from him and knew he wouldn’t darken her evening with such an ugly story. But the longer he gazed at her, the greater the abyss inside him grew.

  He wanted her. He wanted her in every fierce way a man could want a woman. But he couldn’t have her. Even if she was as black of heart as him, he couldn’t have her. He’d stolen his best friend’s life. He had no right to one of his own.

  * * *

  Neen and Travis were cleaning up the kitchen when the doorbell tinkled.

  Neen didn’t look up from where she was scrubbing down the stovetop. One of the boys would see to the customer.

  ‘Travis.’ Jason appeared in the doorway. ‘Can you come out here for a moment?’

  Travis moved with a speed she’d rarely seen in such a burly teenager. Her mouth dried. Had his troubles at home followed him here? She burst into the café behind him and then ground to a halt, her heart racing. No, not Travis’s troubles but her own.

  Chris.

  He stood in the middle of the room. Both Travis and Jason barred her way.

  ‘Please, Neen, I need to speak to you.’

  Her skin filmed with ice. Her need for love had put her in the most awful danger...and she didn’t know when it would end. Surreptitiously she beckoned to Joey and he raced to her side. She put an arm about his shoulders as comprehension dawned on Chris’s face.

  ‘I would never hurt a child! And I would never hurt you!’

  She couldn’t help noting, though, how his hands fisted. ‘You’re breaking the terms of the restraining order, Chris.’ Her voice wasn’t strong but she managed to keep it steady. ‘Please leave before I call the police.’

  ‘Look, you need to know—’

  He broke off as Travis stepped forward and flexed one large hand. ‘The lady asked you to leave.’

  Menace threaded Travis’s voice and she barely recognised her mild-mannered short-order cook.

  With an oath, Chris turned and stormed out. Travis locked the door behind him and turned the sign to ‘Closed’.

  Neen stared at him and Jason. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Rico.’

  One word, but there was a wealth of meaning behind it. In the end all she could do was shrug. ‘Thank you.’

  * * *

  Rico stiffened, his knuckles turning white around the phone. Chris had shown up at the café? ‘Don’t let her leave till I’m there.’

  ‘Right.’

  He hung up at Travis’s assurance, grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and bolted for the door.

  ‘Rico, where are you going?’ Lisle wailed after him. ‘You have a late appointment with that MP!’

  ‘Give him my apologies,’ Rico said, shooting out through the door.

  Travis let him into the café five minutes later. ‘That was quick.’

  ‘I was already out the door when your call came through.’

  Neen marched into the room, her hair gleaming in the single light that remained lit above the counter area. ‘Travis, do you know where—’

  She pulled up short when she saw him. ‘Rico.’

  And then a smile trembled on her lips, and for a moment he thought he might actually lose his footing. ‘It’s nice to see you.’

  He shouldn’t have avoided this place for the last week. Neen might bring all his latent, undesirable bad-boy tendencies to the surface—but that was his problem, not hers. A friend would—

  He scraped a hand across his jaw. History had already proved what kind of friend he was. Neen didn’t need that either.

  ‘I’m heading off now,’ Travis said. ‘Ready, Joey?’

  It was only then that Rico saw Joey, sitting at a table in the half-light.

  He ran across to Neen and threw his arms around her middle. ‘Bye-bye, Neen.’

  ‘Catch ya, tiger.’ She ruffled his hair, then handed him a paper bag that he held carefully against his chest.

  When she walked past him to let the boys out and lock the door behind them her scent rose up around him. He pulled it into his lungs—a mixture of cranberry and coconut and something floral. Just breathing it in eased the tightness in his chest.

  She turned from the door. A deep silence descended. He swallowed. ‘Is everything okay there?’ He nodded after Travis and Joey.

  She shrugged. ‘Joey sometimes comes here after school to wait for Travis. He’s a sweet little kid.’

  He pursed his lips. ‘And yet I notice you didn’t answer my question.’

  She seized a cloth and gave the counter a vigorous wipe down. ‘I’m learning that if I ask no questions...’

  Now what? Did he need to look into Travis and Joey’s situation and—?

  A touch on his arm brought him back. Her lips beckoned, a dusky rose, tempting in the half-light.

  ‘Rico, you do know that Travis turns eighteen soon?’

  ‘So?’

  She shrugged. ‘I think he has everything under control.’

  He hoped rather than believed that to be true.

  ‘How long would it take you to assess the boys’ situation, decide whether some kind of intervention was necessary and then do the relevant paperwork before sending it through to the proper department?’

  Not as long as she evidently expected, but he took her point all the same. Besides, that wasn’t the reason he was here. He tried to think of the best way to frame his question, but she beat him to it.

  ‘So Travis rang and told you tha
t Chris showed up, huh?’

  He eyed her warily. ‘Are you cross with him? Or me?’

  ‘Of course not! How could you think that? You’re both looking out for me and I appreciate it.’

  Her words, though, belied the way her shoulders squinched up and the way her mouth turned down. The sparkle in her eyes had been quenched and he wanted to smash something. He drew her into his arms instead, and pressed her head to his shoulder. For a moment she leaned into him, and it was a sweet, heart-achingly genuine moment. But all too brief.

  She glanced up, pushed her hair behind her ears and backed away. ‘I appreciate the fact that you and the boys have my back, Rico. It’s just... I hate the fact there’s a need for it.’

  Behind her frustration he sensed helplessness. It made his hands clench. ‘Have you called the police?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘We’re calling them now.’ He pulled his mobile from his pocket. ‘Chris has broken the terms of his restraining order and we’re throwing everything we have at him. And if I ever get my hands on the slimy bast—’

  ‘Rico!’ Her hands shot to her hips and she glared at him. ‘No bad language in my café. No exceptions!’

  He glared back. ‘Whose café?’

  She lifted her chin. He immediately raised both hands. ‘Right—your café. No swearing. Got it.’

  He shook his head and bit back a grin. She was falling for the café. She was falling for the boys. Just as he’d hoped she would.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AFTER THEY HAD FINISHED filing a report with the police, Rico insisted on following Neen home in his car. He wanted to see her go inside. He wanted to know she’d shot the deadbolt behind her. He needed to know she was safe.

  He’d thought she’d argue. She didn’t. Maybe the expression on his face told her argument would be useless. Maybe she knew he was going to do it regardless of what she said. His hands clenched around the steering wheel. Or maybe this incident had scared her more than she wanted to admit.

  When they reached her street he scanned the darkness for anything suspicious, anything amiss, but cloud cover hid the moon and the stars and even Mount Wellington. Rico parked and strode down the driveway to Neen’s carport. He’d made her promise to stay in her car until he was there to open the door for her.