Night Huntress 02.5 - Happily Never After (3 page)

"Hello, Isabella."

Isa
had been so caught up in her
thoughts,
she hadn't even heard the store's door open. Yet there Chance was, standing behind her with a faint smile on his face. Under the harsh fluorescent lighting, his hair looked to be deep brown instead of the darker shade it had seemed last night, and his skin was surprisingly pale. The eyes she hadn't been able to guess a color on before turned out to be an intriguing mix of gray and blue.
Like the ocean,
she thought.
Right before a storm.

She was staring. With a shake of her head,
Isa
brought herself back to the present.

"Jim, do you mind if I show my friend the new stock in the back?" she asked, flashing a smile at the clerk.

"Sure thing," he responded with a lazy wave. She bought in bulk and she always paid on time. Jim would pretty much let her do anything.

Isa
walked toward the back, glad that Chance followed without argument. When they were away from any prying eyes,
Isa
started right in.

"Whatever my grandmother hired you for, I'm telling you the job's off. If she owes you any money for your time, I'll pay it. Just tell her you didn't find anything or that everything's okay. She doesn't need this kind of stress at her age."

Chance regarded her with open curiosity. "You think I'm someone she
hired?
You mean your grandmother hasn't told you anything about me?"

"No,"
Isa
said, impatient. "But whoever you are, you don't want to be mixed up in this. Trust me, pal. It goes way over what any pay scale can cover."

He continued to stare at her like she was speaking a foreign language.
Isa
tapped her foot. Maybe Tall, Dark and Dumb had been an accurate way to describe him after all.

"Has your grandmother ever mentioned the name 'Bones' to you before?" Chance asked in a very careful voice.

"Who?"

Chance inhaled. From her scent—and the thoroughly blank look on her face—she was telling the truth. She had no idea he was a vampire. Odds were
,
if her grandmother hadn't told her about Bones,
Isa
had no idea that vampires even existed.

This would make things more complicated.

"The only name that matters here is Robert
Bertini
,"
Isa
went on. "You already seem to know what he's involved in, so I shouldn't have to spell out how hazardous it would be to your health if you continue to mess around with him."

Chance laughed. "You'd be amazed at all the things my health can handle, darling. Your little Robbery doesn't scare me, and as I told you last night, I'm here to help you. It's not a matter of money, so you can keep your bank account as it is. It's a matter of honor."

"Honor?"
Isa
couldn't stifle her snort. She had enough to handle without anyone meddling in this.
"Right.
Do me a favor. Go away before you make things worse."

It would be so much easier if she knew what he was,
Chance mused. Still, it wasn't his place to enlighten. Not yet, anyway. Maybe there was a reason for Greta's secrecy. Perhaps Isabella was one of those humans who couldn't handle the knowledge. She didn't strike Chance that way, but then again, this was only his second time talking to her.

Chance smiled. "Thanks for the wine recommendation," he said, and walked away.

Isa
watched him
go,
gripped with the uneasy feeling that she hadn't seen the last of him.

* * *

At nine o'clock sharp,
Isa's
premonition was confirmed when a familiar dark-haired man slid into table twelve at her restaurant. She almost groaned out loud in frustration. Talk about not taking a hint!

Chance even had the nerve to wink at her as he took his seat. What was it with men lately? Didn't the phrase "
No
means
no
" translate to them anymore?

She didn't even wait for the waitress to approach his table before she marched over.

"Whatever you want, we're out of it,"
Isa
announced crisply.

Chance pushed his menu aside with a lazy grin.
"Doesn't matter.
I'm only here for you, darling."

Isa
clenched her fists. She may not be able to throw Robert out on his ass—yet—but that didn't mean every male around could ignore her wishes in favor of their own!

"Get out, and by the way—calling a woman 'darling' when you don't even know her is sexist and demeaning. Got that,
sugar lips?
"

She stressed the endearment as a taunt, but it didn't have that effect. A light appeared in Chance's eyes. If
Isa
didn't know better, she would swear they seemed to be turning green.

"Sugar lips
…
 
mmm
. I confess I'd like to find out."

The way he was looking at her mouth made
Isa
want to wipe it, but not in disgust. To see if it had suddenly turned into dessert, since that was the only way she could justify the intensity of Chance's stare. For someone who said he wasn't here for food, Chance looked very, very hungry.

"You have to leave.
Now."

Isa
said it with none of the internal tremble that had taken up inside her. The last thing she needed was another complication in her life, and a stubborn, sexy-as-hell private eye would definitely complicate things.

Then again, so would Robert's two goons Ritchie and Paul, and they just swaggered in the door.

"Oh, hell, it's Smelly and Bowling Ball,"
Isa
muttered.

Chance began to laugh. "Is that what you call them?
How appropriate."

She gave him a fraught look. "Are you
trying
to get killed? Leave!
Before they see you!"

But it was too late. Paul glanced their way
…
 
and
stopped so abruptly, one of her waiters crashed right into him. Spaghetti
alla
nona
decorated the front of him, but he didn't even seem to notice.

"You!"
Paul exclaimed in a voice much higher than usual.

Chance inclined his head. "I see you're wearing your favorite meal. Now if you can only bash into someone carrying meatballs, your ensemble would be complete."

Isa's
eyes closed.
Good God, he was a dead man.

Ritchie, oddly enough, didn't fly into his usual hair-trigger temper.

"You can't be here," he almost squeaked. "We—"

"You what?"
Chance interrupted. "Shot me? Put me in a trunk, drove me to an old warehouse, wrapped me in plastic, and buried me around the back?" Chance let his words sink in, and then he smiled, perfectly cordial.
"How preposterous.
If that's what you did, then I wouldn't be sitting here, would I?"

Everyone in the restaurant had stopped eating to watch this exchange.
Isa
was torn between the ingrained urge to keep her business running smoothly—and the new, unhinged desire she had to bash plates over Paul's, Ritchie's, and even Chance's head.

Her business sense won.
Isa
laughed like a joke had been told and then approached Paul and Ritchie with a fake, warm smile.

"Let's get you guys to your favorite table. Lauren, bring something to help clean Paul up. And Ritchie, you look like you could use a drink."

She politely dragged them across the room under her effusive hostess pretense. Both of them went like they were dazed while still staring at Chance.
Isa
didn't know what he'd meant by his bizarre little imagining of what Ritchie had been about to say, but damn it, this was her restaurant! Not some criminal macho showboating ring.

Paul stiffened. "Uh
…
 
we
gotta go,
Isa
," he said.
"Gotta check something out."

"You think Kevlar?" Ritchie whispered with a glance in Chance's direction.

"Must've been," Paul muttered.

Isa
didn't care what they were babbling about as long as they didn't cause any more disruption.

"Don't worry about him, he's on his way out," she said low.

Paul looked at Chance and grunted.
"Uh huh.
We thought that last night, too."

What?

Ritchie grabbed Paul's arm. "Come on, let's roll. Boss needs to hear about this."

With a last look at Chance—and the mess on his Armani shirt—Paul left with Ritchie in tow. Chance gave them a cheery wave that made
Isa
want to smack him again. Thankfully, it was obvious Robert's two thugs had pressing business elsewhere.

Chance stood, stretched, and brushed his hand across
Isa's
cheek.

"Some things we need to talk about, but not here. I'll see you later, darling."

"No you won't, nut muffin!" she replied as low and fiercely as she could.

He laughed at that, giving her a lingering glance.

"Yes, I will."

Chapter 3

Robert came in right after closing. All the patrons were gone and it was just her, a few servers, and her head chef Frank tidying things up.

"
Isa
," he said, without acknowledging any of her staff.
"Brought you your wedding dress."

Frank and the others left the main room, used to Robert's rudeness by now. Paul obediently approached
Isa
holding a garment bag.
Isa
stared at it for a moment before taking it. Even holding the dress in her hands filled her with panic.
Frazier better call again soon,
she found herself thinking,
because I can't fake this much longer.

"Um
…
 
thanks
." She couldn't manage to say anything more enthusiastic.

"It was my mother's, God rest her soul," Robert replied, crossing himself. "My sister made an appointment for you to get it fitted. She'll call you tomorrow with the date and time."

No consultation, no consideration for her schedule.
Isa
hadn't even participated in the decision of where or when her wedding was going to take place. Robert's sister had showed up at
Isa's
restaurant a week ago and told her what church to be at on what date. It was a good thing
Isa
had no intention of actually marrying Robert, or she would have been pissed about how someone else was planning her wedding.

"The boys tell me that dark-haired
mook's
been
hangin
' around you again," Robert went on. "They warned him to stay away last night, but they said he was back again tonight. I don't like that,
Isa
. It's disrespectful to me."

She had to tread carefully. Chance might be asking for trouble, but
Isa
didn't want to serve him up a big plate of it.

"He's just a customer, Robert. I wouldn't even remember him, except Paul and Ritchie made such a stink when they saw him earlier."

Robert gave her a hard stare, but
Isa
schooled her face to show only innocence. If Catholic nuns couldn't make her admit to cheating on a test in high school, then Robert had no chance of breaking her with his gaze.

Finally he shrugged. "Good. Then you won't mind if the boys keep this troublemaker from bothering you in the future."

"If I see him again, I'll tell him not to come back myself,"
Isa
said with complete honesty.

Robert moved closer. It took all of
Isa's
willpower not to flinch when he touched her face.

"Still… maybe you should come home with me. This guy could be a real whack job. I don't want anything happening to you."

Isa
hardly knew Chance, but already she surmised that out of the two of them, the true whack job was the man in front of her.

"That's okay, Robert. I'll be fine. If I see him again, I—I'll call you so you can deal with him."

A complete lie.
She'd chase Chance away herself, true, but she'd never turn him over to Robert.

Robert trailed his fingers down her arm. "Maybe that's not the only reason I want you to stay with me," he said in a husky voice.

Oh, shit
.
Isa
steeled herself to stay where she was, instead of running away screaming, "
hell
no!" like she wanted to.

"I told you before, Robert—I'm an old-fashioned Catholic girl. That's one of the things you like about me, remember? Well, in my family, we don't have sex until our wedding night."

Another bunch of bullshit.
Isa
hadn't been a virgin since nineteen, and while she hadn't racked up the notches on her bedpost, she'd had a few lovers in her time. None since she moved back to Philly three years ago, however, which is why Robert didn't know about them and believed her claims of chastity. And while she couldn't speak for her grandparents,
Isa
was pretty sure her parents hadn't abstained from premarital sex either.