Reckless (8 page)

Nick forced a smile for his guests, but it
felt stiff. All he seemed able to think about was that Antonia was
only two floors above them. Having Viper this close to her chilled
him right to the marrow. He splashed Johnny Walker into three
ice-filled glasses, despite the early hour, and handed them each
one.

Lou took his and held it up. “To new
associates.”

Nick clinked his glass to Lou's, and tried
not to show his relief. He was pretty sure he was the “new
associate” Lou was referring to, and that meant his cover was still
intact.

Viper didn't raise his glass. He apparently
wasn't thrilled with new associates in the least. He was cautious.
More so than Lou. Nick looked at him and felt the same bristle of
aversion he'd felt from their first encounter. Trying to avoid
becoming this man's enemy was essential if he was going to get the
evidence he needed to put Lou away and take down his organization.
It was also the toughest thing he'd ever done. The guy was a
snake.

“You get Vinnie dumped okay?” Nick asked,
trying to sound friendly, but not weak.

“Yeah, sure. No problems.” Viper took a slug
of the whiskey and smacked his lips.

Lou shifted from one foot to the other,
watching them both, his eyes missing nothing. The guy was
sharp.

“Somethin' wrong, Lou?” Nick asked. “You look
uneasy.”

“The girl. Where'd you dump her?”

“She's in the bay.” Nick tried not to show
his reaction to the question. Did they know something? “Weighed her
down real good. She won't turn up for months. Maybe never.”

Lou nodded, looking fractionally easier. “Who
was she?”

Nick shrugged as if it didn't matter.

“Dammit, Nicky, didn't she have any ID on
her? Didn't you check?”

Nick took a long pull from his glass. The
less Lou knew about Antonia, the better. “Didn't think it was
important. She saw us, she had to go. There was no time to check
her out before I hit her, and after I just wanted to get her the
hell outta my trunk before I got stopped or something.” He
shrugged. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Dead's dead, Lou.”

Lou grunted and didn't say anything. Nick
felt a cold finger of unease trace the curve of his spine. Finally
Lou sipped his whiskey and sat down, his substantial weight noisily
crushing the leather cushions. “Viper tells me Vinnie went down
easy. You agree?”

“Viper didn't wait for me. It was a done deal
by the time I got there.”

“But you're sure it was Vinnie? You took a
look at his face before it was...altered?”

“Sure did, Lou. No mistake. Vinnie the
songbird in the flesh.”

“He won't be singing anymore,” Viper put in.
He laughed aloud, and Lou did, as well. Nick forced himself to join
in.

“What about the body?” Lou drained his glass,
got up with an effort and refilled it from the thousand-dollar
bottle without asking. He was speaking to Nick.

“Lou, I couldn't watch the dumping. I had to
get the girl the hell outta there. Some nosy shit had already
called the cops.”

“You don't need to send witnesses on my jobs,
Lou,” Viper snapped. “You know I always come through. Vinnie's
feedin' fishes.”

Lou nodded, still standing. “Let's hope he's
a lesson to the next rat who thinks of squeaking to the D.A.” Nick
raised his glass and nodded hard. He downed the rest of the whiskey
in a slug that burned a path down the center of his chest.

Lou cleared his throat. “Things'll be hot in
the city for a while—as soon as they miss Vinnie.”

“They knew what they were doing when they
sprung him, Lou. They didn't care. He wouldn't give the testimony
he promised, so they just didn't care. And they call us the
criminals.” It was the longest speech Viper had ever made in Nick's
presence. The worst part was, he was right.

“Sure, but no one's gonna admit that,” Lou
said. “It’d be political suicide. Besides, it gives 'em a great
excuse to hassle me. When did you know 'em to pass one up?” Lou
shook his head, frowning. “At least it's what I expected. I don't
like surprises. That's why I'm worried about that girl. She was a
surprise.”

“Too bad Nick was in such a hurry to off the
bitch,” Viper said slowly. “I could'a made her tell me her life
story.” He licked his lips. “She was a looker, Lou. We could'a kep'
her awhile—like we did with that uppity hooker who tried to put the
squeeze on you. ‘Member her? But Nick, he’s got a hair trigger,
this guy.”

Nick's jaw clenched tight, and he felt a
muscle work near the corner of his mouth. He turned slowly and
glared at the slime standing across from him.

Viper met the scorching gaze with one of his
own. Lou was quick to step between them. “I don't think Nicky likes
you findin' fault with his work.” His tone made the simple
statement a reprimand. He glanced at Nick. “It's okay, Nicky. I
think you done good. Hell, Viper said she was off and running when
you popped her. If she'd have got away, all hell would'a broke
loose.”

“Funny, though,” Viper said, slow and
confident, his snake's eyes never leaving Nick's face. “I drove by
there this morning and I didn't see no blood.”

“You saying she didn't bleed, Viper? Or are
you saying something else?” Nick took a step closer to the little
weasel, his temper approaching the boiling point

“I'm saying I'd feel better if I’d’a had a
look at her before you took off. How do I know she's dead? She saw
my face.” Viper stepped closer as well, and Lou's pudgy body was
wedged between them.

“Maybe you'd like a trip to the bottom of the
bay yourself, pal. Maybe you'd feel better if you saw her up close
and personal.” Nick leaned over Lou, his voice level but tight.

“Enough, already.” Lou's command cut the
tension between them and Nick backed off. “I got enough trouble
without you two going at it like a couple of punk kids.” He nailed
Viper to the spot with his gaze. “Nicky says he killed her. That's
good enough for me. I don't want to hear you talk him down
again.”

“You're crazy, Lou. He's not even one of
us—”

“But he will be.” That statement earned
stares of disbelief from Viper and Nick. Lou turned and encircled
Nick's shoulders with one beefy arm. “Next commission meeting is
this weekend, Nicky. When it's over, you'll be a made
man—officially.”

Viper downed his whiskey and slammed his
glass on the bar. “You really think that’s a good idea, Lou? Nick
isn't proven.”

“He took the broad out.” Lou slapped Nick's
shoulder repeatedly. “For me, he did this. He acted from loyalty,
and loyalty to Lou Taranto doesn't go unrewarded. You should know
that.” His arm tightened, and he grinned until his fat face
puckered. “What do you say, Nicky?”

“I'm honored, Lou. I—I wasn't expecting
this.”

Lou reached into a pocket and extracted an
envelope that appeared stuffed to the bursting point. He pressed it
into Nick's hand. “A little thank you, for the girl, Nicky. You
done good.”

Nick accepted the money, thanked Lou, but his
thanks were waved away. “I need a favor,” Lou told him. “Like I
said, things'll be hot in the city. The Century won't be practical,
and we need this meeting. This place—” he waved an expressive arm
to indicate the entire room “—this place would be perfect.”

Nick swallowed and tried to appear bowled
over with joy that the leaders of several organized crime families
would be meeting here. The idea shook him. These guys were sharp.
But he had no choice. You didn't thumb your nose at an offer like
this. It was an honor. To refuse would be taken as a personal
insult, and Viper was already suspicious of him.

“My place is yours, Lou.”

“Good, then. Saturday night. And don't worry
about the vote. I'll speak to the others. They’ll fall in line.” He
gave Nick one last slap on the back, put his glass down on the bar
and turned toward the door without another word.

Viper glared at Nick. “Don't get too cocky,
Manelli. The vote isn't over yet, and if I have anything to say
about it, you'll come out on the short end.”

“Lucky for me you don't have anything to say
about it, then, isn't it, Viper?”

Toni’s stomach convulsed when she heard Viper
talking about how he could've “made her talk.” Thank God Nick had
been there.

She brought that thought to a grinding halt.
Nick was no hero. He was only the lesser of two evils. He'd taken
part in a murder. No, she corrected herself. He'd arrived in the
alley after the fact, if she could believe what she'd just heard.
Still, he was about to be inducted into the mob.

She watched him after the crime boss and his
favorite henchman had gone. Nick turned in a slow circle, pushing
one hand through his hair and rumpling its slick perfection. He
looked stunned and more than a little bit worried. He ought to be,
she thought. If those two found out what he'd done—that he'd lied
to them and hadn't killed her at all—he'd be a dead man.

He really
had
taken a risk in not
letting Viper shoot her that night—or letting him take her alive
and do far worse. There was no way she could deny it. Nick had
saved her life. According to the slimy Viper, he'd saved her from
more than just death—a lot more.

But why?

He moved as if deep in thought, picking up
glasses, replacing the whiskey bottle, wiping the bar with a soft
cloth. Toni was sure of just one thing. She wouldn't leave here
now—not even if he left the doors wide open and offered her a ride
to the bus station. The bosses of at least three major crime
families would be meeting under this very roof. She had this
wonderful setup to watch them and listen in. To turn her back on a
research opportunity like this would be nothing short of pure
cowardice. She couldn't let fear chase her away from this. She'd
leave here somehow, soon, but
after
that meeting. She ought
to be able to survive four more days here. Nick obviously wasn't
planning to kill her. He wouldn't have risked his life to keep her
alive, only to kill her later. She'd be fine as long as he never
guessed who she really was.

She glanced at the screen, stiffening when
she saw only an empty room. Shit, he must be on his way back.
Quickly, she shut the TV off, jumped up onto the chair and replaced
the remote in its unoriginal hiding place. The she placed the chair
exactly as it had been before and ran into the bedroom to finish
unpacking so she'd appear busy when he returned.

She pulled the last armful of things from the
bag and stuffed them into an already crowded drawer. That done, she
bent to pick up the bag, surprised to find there was still weight
in the bottom. She bent and pulled out the last items in the bag:
two brand-new spiral notebooks and her own copy of
On Being a
Writer.
She'd left the book on her nightstand beside her
bed.

Did he know? My God, had he been inside her
office? The office door was always locked, but there were copies of
every book she'd ever written in there—and in the safe behind the
framed painting of her first cover, there was enough evidence to
put Lou Taranto behind bars for the rest of his life. If Nick had
found it, he would kill her. There was no chance he'd do otherwise.
She should have turned it over to federal authorities, she moaned
inwardly. She'd known that was the right thing to do, and she'd
come perilously close to handing it to a cop she’d later learned
was on Taranto's payroll. She'd been terrified to make the same
mistake again.

Did Nick know now that she was Toni Rio? He
must. Bringing the book and the notebooks were his way of telling
her the game was over. She held the books in hands clenched tight
and white knuckled.

“I found it in your bedroom.” She jumped as
if jolted and spun to face him.

Toni stood motionless, unable to utter a
word, waiting.

“Look, the truth is, you might be here for
more than a few days,” he went on. “I figured if you could get
something out of this enforced vacation—spend some time writing, if
that's what you want to do with your life—it might be easier on
you.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again,
still unsure.

He shrugged. “You've got to start sometime,
Antonia, or you'll never know whether you're any good.”

She thought he must have felt the air
currents stirring when she sighed in relief. He'd bought the
notebooks so she could try her hand at writing.

Pretty nice thing for a morally bankrupt
criminal to do.

He's probably still trying to confuse me, she
reminded herself.

“I could've sworn you just smiled,” he said
slowly. “Did I finally do something right?” As he spoke, he turned
toward the dresser, snagged his tie loose and tossed it. He looked
tired—drained. His gaze met hers in the mirror, and his lips curved
slightly in response to her alleged smile. She caught just a trace
of the whiskey's aroma clinging to him.