Reckless (5 page)

He released a short breath and shook his
head. “You mentioned your sister. How long before she realizes
you're missing?”

She eyed him and she felt her defiance oozing
from every pore in her. The day she'd breathe a word about
Josephine to this bastard would never come.

“I don't want to silence her, Antonia. I only
need to—” He broke off there, released her arms and looked at the
floor. “Hell, I don't suppose I'd tell, either, if I were you.” He
reached for one of the salad bowls and pushed it toward her. “I'm
not going to poison you, Antonia. Eat your salad.”

With an angry swipe of her hand, she knocked
the bowl to the floor. Cherry tomatoes, lettuce, slivers of onion
and cucumber chunks littered the place like confetti. His face
turned murderous. He grabbed for her again, but she was faster. She
ran into the bedroom and slammed the door as she had before. He
came after her this time. He threw the door open so roughly that
she was knocked away from it. He stalked toward her, rage marking
his every movement. Grabbing her by one arm, he jerked her toward
him until her chest was pressed to his. He held that arm so tight
his fingers burrowed into her flesh and she winced. His other hand
went to the back of her head, and he twisted a handful of her hair
around his fist. He yanked once, pulling her head back. She felt
tears of pain and fear burning her eyes.

Then his mouth descended. He was brutal,
making sure he hurt her, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She
twisted away, but another tug at her hair forced her compliance.
His tongue invaded her mouth, attacking, plundering. Her lips were
ground between his teeth and her own.

When he finally lifted his head away, she
knew there were tears pouring down her face. She tried to check
them and found she couldn't.

“Have I made my point?” He let his hand fall
from her hair but still held her upper arm, forcing her to face
him.

She met his triumphant gaze with tear-blurred
eyes. “You made your point. You’re bigger than I am, therefore,
you’re in charge. What you say is law and I’m at your mercy. Is
that the point you wanted to make?” She rushed on before he could
say another word, angrier than she had ever been in her life—with
one exception. “Now, I'll make mine. If you close your eyes in my
presence, I'll slit your throat. If you lose track of your gun,
I'll use it to blow your head off. If you forget to lock the
bathroom door while you're bathing, you might find a toaster
landing in the water beside you—plugged in. And if there
is
any poison floating around this hole, you can bet
you'll
be
the one who ends up ingesting it. Have
I
made
my
point?”

She doubted her words had much impact, since
she blurted them with angry tears streaking her face. He released
her arm, shook his head in exasperation and turned toward the door.
“Get some sleep,” he muttered. “I'll spend the night on the couch.”
He turned and left her standing there, feeling as if she really
could carry out those ridiculous threats she'd hurled at him. She
felt as if she could happily wring his neck with her bare hands, if
she could get them around it.

And the truth was yes. Her half-sister Joey
would
know she was missing. She would know almost instantly.
She might even have known it before it happened.

Nick went to the table and attempted to eat,
but the little witch had ruined his appetite. She was being about
as uncooperative as was humanly possible and she was only hurting
herself. His little show of aggression had scared her into
submission—for a moment. His lips thinned and his stomach twisted
when he recalled the sight of twin rivers of tears burning down her
face. He'd scared her, all right. He'd terrified her, acted like a
crazed maniac, made her fear and despise him. He had no doubt she'd
meant what she'd said. She might very well try to slit his throat
in his sleep, if he gave her the chance. And he wouldn’t freaking
blame her.

He sawed off a piece of steak and speared it
with his fork. “Good, let her hate me. That's just the way I want
it.” He lifted the fork to his lips, paused, then threw it down in
disgust. Surging to his feet, he took two steps toward the bedroom
door, then stopped himself. What am I going to do, go back in there
and apologize? he asked himself. Tell her I'm not the bastard she
thinks I am?
You have me all wrong, lady. I'm a nice slime
bag
. Right.

He
could
just tell her the truth.

Nick shook his head the minute that notion
popped in. No way. He was already beginning to wonder if her
appearance earlier had been an accident. That alley wasn't in what
he'd call a good neighborhood. So what was she doing there? How had
she known Vinnie's name? She sure as hell hadn't heard it from him,
and he knew she hadn't been close enough to see the man's face. He
couldn't have mentioned the name. It was too well-known, had been
plastered all over the papers since Vinnie had been busted on a
trumped-up charge. The D.A. had put a scare into Vinnie, leaned on
him until he'd agreed to testify against Lou Taranto. Then at the
last minute, Vinnie the songbird had changed his tune. There wasn't
a person in the city who couldn't guess why. Lou had got to Vinnie
while he was inside. Lou scared Vinnie a little more than the D.A.
did. Vinnie recanted. The D.A.'s bluff was called. He'd never had a
stand-up case against Vinnie to begin with, so he'd turned him
loose. Then Lou sent his top hitter to repay Vinnie for his
loyalty. By the time Nick got to the alley to witness the hit,
Vinnie was already dead.

Nick remembered the fear in Antonia's face
when she'd seen Viper level his gun at her. That had been his first
glimpse of her, standing in the rain, trembling with fear and
revulsion. No wonder she didn't want to eat. If he could guarantee
the food was safe, she probably wouldn't be able to eat it.

Two hours later the light flashed near the
door. Nick flicked on the big-screen monitor, reminding himself to
hide the remote control when he was finished. The screen lit,
giving him a view of the front gate and the pizza truck parked
beyond it. Carl stood beside the truck, pressing the button
there.

Antonia was asleep. Nick had peered in a few
moments ago. He depressed the button on the speaker and spoke
softly. “Yeah?”

“Pizza delivery, Mr. Manelli.”

“Extra anchovies, kid?”

“Sausage and mushrooms, just like you
ordered.”

He'd given the right answer. Carl was alone.
Nick used another button to open the gate and watched the monitor
as the truck lumbered through and stopped near the front door. Nick
used the remote to switch the view on the screen to that of the
foyer as Carl came inside.

When Nick let him into the apartment a few
moments later, Carl tossed the pizza box on a table and glared at
him. “I knew you wanted him bad, Nick, but not this bad. How could
you do it? How could you pop an innocent like that? She was
just...” He swallowed hard and looked toward the ceiling. “She was
such a little thing.” He closed his eyes, cleared his throat. “The
suits are gonna have a ball with this one, Nick.”

“Then you were there.”

“Vacant room over the bar. I saw the whole
thing go down.” His gaze was accusing. “I never thought you had it
in you—”

Nick pressed a finger to his lips and Carl
instantly went silent. He glanced around as if he expected to see
Fat Lou emerge from the shadows with an Uzi. Nick walked to the
bedroom door, opened it slightly and looked through. Antonia lay on
his bed with the covers pulled protectively up to her chin. Her
hair spilled over his pillow, completely hiding it from view. Her
thick black lashes touched her cheeks. He stood back and allowed
Carl to peer through the crack in the door. Carl did, then he
pulled back in shock, and Nick closed the door again, urging his
friend away from it.

“What did you
do
?”

Nick sat down on the couch, stretching his
legs out fully and tipping his head back. “The only thing I
could
do. You didn't really think I'd shoot an innocent
bystander, did you?”

“What was I supposed to think when I saw it
with my own eyes?”

Nick shrugged. “She
was
convincing,
wasn't she?”

“What, you just told her to fake it and she
did?”

Nick didn't want to relive the tense moment.
“I told her I'd kill her if she didn't.”

“And she just came here with you? How much
did you have to tell her?”

Nick's head came up. “I didn't tell her
anything, Carl. She already knows too much. She saw Viper.”

Joey paled visibly. “I was afraid of that.
It's as good as her death warrant, you know that, Nick.”

“Exactly. I brought her here because I had no
choice. If
I
didn't have one, how the hell could I give her
one?”

“You kidnapped her.”

Nick winced at the term. “I'm trying real
hard to think of it as protective custody.”

Carl shook his head, got up and went to the
refrigerator. He took out two beers, tossed one to Nick and popped
the top on his own. “Man, I'm relieved. I thought you finally went
over the edge.” He took a long drink from the can. “So do you think
Lou trusts you, or was it a test?”

“No way to tell, although if anyone
identifies Viper to the local cops in the near future, you can bet
my body won't be found for months.”

“You know how many people that bastard's
killed, Nick?”

Nick nodded slowly. “I know. I want him put
away as badly as you do. Now that I've been at the actual scene of
a hit, I can give sworn testimony and take Viper out of commission
for good. Maybe.” He hadn’t seen the actual hit, though, dammit.
“But we have to let him have his head a while longer if we want to
take Taranto out, too.” Nick sat a little straighter. “How's your
part in the drama coming along?”

“I'm still just one of Taranto’s low-level
gophers, running errands for the big boys. I did wrangle an
invitation to a poker game tomorrow night at the Century. Word is
there's something big coming up. I hope I can find out what.”

Nick frowned at the news. The Century was Lou
Taranto's nightclub—a place where most of the patrons were mob
players and prostitutes. Private rooms were commonly set aside for
invitation-only poker games. Every employee in the club was
drop-dead loyal to the Taranto family. “I don't like it, Carl.
You'd have no backup. What if something goes wrong?”

“What do you think I am, a rookie? I've been
at this as long as you have. You know damn well the bureau's got
guys watching Lou's place twenty-four hours a day, snapping cameras
and taking down names. An extra plain-brown wrapper parked out
front won't raise any eyebrows. Lou's so used to having them
around, he sends out sandwiches sometimes. They don't worry him
any. I had Harry assign somebody in case I get into trouble. All
they know is that if they see someone stand in the left front
window and flick a lighter three times before lighting his smoke,
they raid the place and bust everyone inside, me included, for
gambling.”

“But the surveillance guys won't know there's
a Fed inside,” Nick said.

“They don't need to know. That's the
deal.”

Nick shook his head. “I still don't like it.”
He saw the determination in his friend's face and sighed. “At least
you'll have a way out.”

“Right. Now, what are we gonna do about the
girl?”

It was just like Carl to change the subject
rather than risk an argument. “I'm keeping her here,” Nick told
him.

“Not a smart move, my friend.”

“Smarter than letting her go. The second she
was spotted, Viper would kill her.”

Carl sighed. “You're right on that count. If
he knew she was alive, a whole army couldn't protect her from that
bastard. But, God, Nick, how long can you keep her here?”