Reckless (10 page)

He ran the errands necessary that afternoon,
taking the money Taranto had given him to three different banks to
exchange it for clean bills. It wouldn't surprise him if Lou had
somehow marked the bills and was keeping track of them, so he had
to treat the money the way he would if he were as dirty as it was.
As dirty as he was pretending to be. He then went to a small gym
and left the clean money in an envelope in one of the lockers.

He told himself he shouldn't be thinking
about Toni all alone and restless in his apartment. He shouldn't
allow her to haunt his thoughts the way she was. He shouldn't keep
catching phantom traces of her scent on every wayward breeze. He
shouldn't unconsciously rub his fingertips together, remembering
the feel of her hair. He certainly shouldn't keep imagining how it
would feel to hold her against him with nothing between his skin
and hers.

Nick blinked fast, shocked at the path of his
thoughts. He and Toni had come to a tentative truce, if he'd read
her right this morning. He couldn't revert to total animosity
between them by coming on like a caveman again. He'd get a lot more
cooperation from her if he could keep things friendly between them,
but not too friendly.

By the time he returned to the hulking
mansion, it was dusk. The sky beyond the house was only a shade
lighter than the house itself. The place looked haunted. Big and
dark and ugly. It wasn't a home—not anybody's home, but least of
all his. It was just a cover. Something the government set him up
with to help convince Taranto he was a productive criminal. The
truth was, Nick didn't have a home. A small apartment in Brooklyn
served as a base when he wasn't undercover. He wasn't sure he
wanted a home. It would be too damn empty.

He picked up the white paper bag with the
cartons of Chinese food inside and hurried up the two flights to
the apartment. When he went in, Antonia was on the couch with her
legs curled beneath her. She was bent over a notebook, her pencil
flying over a page. She was so engrossed, she didn't even hear him.
He quietly set the food down and went back through the door to pick
up the landline telephone he'd left in the study. He carried it
inside and closed the door, and still she didn't look up.

His curiosity got the best of him, and he
walked up behind her and glanced over her shoulder, frowning when
he saw line upon line of Spanish. So she didn't want him reading
what she wrote? Interesting.

“Productive afternoon?”

She looked up fast and slammed the notebook
closed. Her eyes had a spark in them that he hadn't seen before. It
was like the effect of certain amphetamines. He had the feeling as
she looked at him that she wasn't really seeing him, but was
instead still at least partially immersed in whatever she'd been
writing. “I didn't mean to interrupt. You look...driven.”

“It's going pretty well,” she told him. Her
gaze fell to the telephone tucked under his arm, and the zealous
gleam left her eyes entirely. “I've heard of portable phones, but
isn't that a bit much?” Her attempt at humor was lame, at best. It
didn't fool him for a second. He set the phone down, cursing
himself for bringing it in now when he should have waited until she
was distracted in another room. It was cruel to let her see it when
he couldn't let her use it

He grabbed up the bag and took it to the
kitchen. “I brought food. You like Chinese?”

“It's fine.” Her voice sounded dead.

Nick sighed hard. He walked to the couch and
sat close beside her. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She looked everywhere but at
him.

He cupped her chin and pulled her head around
so he could see her eyes. His thumb traced her jawline of its own
will. “You might as well say it, Antonia. Your face is too
expressive.”

She pulled her face from his grasp. “You have
the telephone,” she said slowly. “It would be so easy to let me
call her.” She got to her feet, restless.

Her sister again. He'd actually thought he'd
won that argument. “I would if I could. I'm not doing this just to
be cruel, you know.” He stood, as well.

“You could let me call if you wanted to. Just
plug the damn thing in—stand beside me with your gun to my head.
Blow my brains out if I say one wrong word. I just want to let her
know I'm okay—”

He gripped her shoulders, silencing her
tirade. “Use your head, will you? If your family doesn't act
worried, it will be obvious to Taranto that you're still
alive.”

“Taranto doesn't know who or where my sister
is. He doesn’t even know my name,” she whispered. “How can he watch
her if he doesn't know who I am? Unless...you're going to tell
him.”

He released her and threw his hands in the
air. “Of course I'm not—dammit, I thought we were past this stage.
I'm not going to tell him anything about you, but that won't stop
him from finding out. And when he does, you can bet he'll watch
your sister. If she acts suspicious, he'll do more than just watch
her. It would be just like Lou to assume she knew where you were
and try to make her tell him, and if that happens—”

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 anger. Her breathing was fast 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 too!”

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, you being 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’m not used to having anyone in my
life that could suffer from my recklessness. 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—”

“Stop.” She was approaching panic; he could
see it swirling in her ebony eyes. “Toni, I didn't say—”

The tears spilled over and he choked. She
gripped his shirt in her fists. “Don't let them hurt my sister,
Nick. For God's sake, 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 sister.” 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,
Toni. 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. “Good
luck.”

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 it
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? Why not just use it out there, or use your cell like
everyone else in the twenty-first century?”

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?”

“How the hell do you know I had whiskey
downstairs? Did you–”

“Smelled it on your breath. I’m observant.
And I’m not done. When 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 like a normal human 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 my hands. You'd be on a slab in a morgue right now if I
hadn't dragged your cute ass 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 took her notebook, turned and walked
away. As soon as the bedroom 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 ass, and if she was
thinking along the lines he thought she was, she was going to be
trouble. Her presence in that alley had been no accident. He was
sure of that now. That theory was out the window. She knew 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 had 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 once the two of them had been on their own, 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 people 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 the 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.