Chapter 4
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.
“I suppose, if I had to be abducted and held against my will by a two-bit hood, I could've done worse than you.”
“Don't heap such extravagant compliments on me, lady. You'll swell my head.”
She smirked at him, her relief that he hadn't discovered her secret making her feel easy for once in his presence.
“Before I forget again,” he continued, facing her. “Who is Katrina?”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “K-Katrina...who?”
“Damned if I know. You had a message on your machine last night—a woman. She said something about wanting to know what Katrina was up to.”
There were only two possibilities that came to mind. Her agent or her sister. She swallowed hard, wishing she could hear the rest of the message. “Katrina is, um, an old friend. I've known her since I was a little girl.” That much was true. Before Katrina had developed into an ex-KGB super-sleuth, she'd been the imaginary friend of a four-year-old. Later she'd been a fictional big sister Toni used to threaten bullies. Way back before she’d learned that her father’s wandering libido had provided her with several real sisters. She’d learned about Joey only two years ago, looked her up and they’d formed a real connection. According to Joey, her mother had alluded to the likelihood that there were others, but they had no clue how to find them.
As a child, Toni used to blame Katrina for her own offenses. “She's a rather adventuresome lady,” she said at length. She glanced up to see if Nick believed her. He seemed to be accepting what she said. “Did the caller say who—”
“It was your sister. She called you Toni. It fits you.”
The air left her lungs. Toni sank slowly to the edge of the bed, her eyes on the floor. She'd hoped Joey wouldn't miss her right away. She lived upstate, four hours from the city Toni called home. Hell, she wondered how close she might be to Joey right now. They’d definitely driven upstate, and quite a long ways. At least an hour.
“Did she...did she sound worried?''
His gaze slid away from hers. “A little. For what it's worth, I took enough of your stuff to make it look like you'd gone away for a few days. If she checks, she'll think—”
“She’ll know.” Toni closed her eyes slowly and tried to remind herself that Joey Bradshaw was not exactly a fragile flower who needed protecting from difficult topics. In fact, if Joey knew where her half sister was right now, she'd probably hop on her Harley, drive here, kick the door in, grab Nick Manelli by the scruff of his neck and give him a swift kick in the cojones.
“You're that close?” Nick's voice made it sound as if she'd just claimed the impossible.
Toni opened her eyes slowly. “She's my sister.” She shrugged. “Besides, she...knows things.”
He scowled and shook his head. She had the distinct impression that he did not believe her. She could have kicked herself for the overwhelming urge to convince him, and still she found herself doing just that. “Maybe we're closer than most, but that's because we need each other. My parents died young and so did hers–”
“Wait, I thought you were sisters.”
“Half.” She was telling him too much. She paused and drew a shaky breath. “I’ve only known about her for a couple of years, but in that time she’s become my best friend.” She sought Nick's face and found it with an expression of sadness, his gaze still focused on her. He was listening—raptly.
He pulled his gaze away and tried to sound casual. “What kinds of things do you do together?”
His voice had come out minutely tighter than before, and Toni wondered why. “Everything we have time to do when we visit each other.”
“She doesn’t live in the city then?” he asked.
She bit her lip, didn’t answer.
“I’m not trying to get information on her, Toni. I saw the photo on the phone stand in your apartment. You look...close.”
“We are. She's been great to me, and I don't want to cause her all this worry.”
“She won’t worry much. There’s no sign anything bad’s happened to you.”
“Of course she will. For God's sake, wouldn't your brother worry if you dropped off the face of the earth without a word?'' He sent her a sharp look and she quickly added, “I mean, if you had a brother. Or a sister. Do you?”
His eyes narrowed, but then he looked away. “Not only would he not worry, he wouldn't know. My brother is dead.”
“I’m sorry.” She thought of that photo, that little boy, and her heart broke. “What about...your parents? Where are they, Nick?”
Nick’s voice was devoid of emotion, his expression shuttered, but he answered her question. “Our mother walked out when I was thirteen, and I haven't seen her since.”
Toni swallowed hard, the image of the woman in the photograph reappearing in her mind. How could she have walked out on her own sons? “Again, I'm sorry.”
“I'm not.” He released the top buttons of his shirt and stalked into the living room. Toni followed.
“Then your father raised you alone?” She shouldn't be so curious about his background. She certainly didn't care. But he'd lost his father and brother—she'd lost her parents. The only difference was, he pretended not to care.
He walked to the little speaker doc that sat on the bookcase, tapped the touch screen on the tiny iPod in its cradle. In a moment Ray Charles' voice sang, “Georgia... Georgia....” and Nick sank into a chair. He leaned back, hands behind his head, legs stretched in front of him, and closed his eyes. “Last I knew, my old man was doing eight to fifteen in Attica. He went up when I was still a kid.”
“Then he could be out by now, couldn't he?” Toni felt her stomach turn over. Had his father gone to prison before his mother had abandoned him or just after? She couldn't help seeing the sweet, dark-haired little boy in the photo, with his front tooth missing, and feeling the incredible hurt he must've felt then.
Nick shrugged. “I never bothered to find out.”
“What was he—”
Nick's head came up. “That's enough, Antonia. I'm not up to telling you my life story, and I can't imagine why you'd want to hear it.” Again he tipped his head back and folded his arms behind it.
Toni took a seat on the sofa and studied him. The tension in his body seemed to be ebbing. He'd been wound up and nervous from his encounter with Taranto when he'd first come in. Now the mellow piano and the soothing voice coming from the Bose system seemed to be calming him.
“You like the blues,” she said, unconsciously keeping her voice low, out of respect for the music. “I never would have guessed.”
“Relaxes me.”
She shifted, feeling anything but relaxed. “Was it whoever was here before that got you all tensed up, or talking about your parents?”
He didn't move. “You don't know when to quit, do you? Okay, I'll bite. How'd you know someone was here???
?
“It was a guess. I saw the red light come on, by the panel.”
His head moved enough to nod. “Sharp lady.”
“Are you going to tell me who it was?”
“What do you think?”
Antonia sighed and got to her feet. He'd given away all he was going to. Her stomach protested softly, and she realized it must be nearly noon. “Am I allowed to help myself to some lunch?”
He nodded. “Can you cook?”
“It is not one of my more highly developed skills. I was thinking along the lines of a sandwich or some cottage cheese.” She walked to the refrigerator and scanned its contents. “Or some yogurt,” she said, spying the row of containers.
“Help yourself.”
Toni hesitated, then shrugged. “You want one?”
“Why not?”
She picked peaches and cream for her, strawberry banana for him, located two spoons and carried them back to the sofa. She held the plastic cup out to him, and he took it. Their fingers touched and for a moment that seemed eternal, Toni didn't take her hand away. When she did, she felt flustered and not sure what to say.
Something had passed between them. Some unspoken agreement or understanding. He wouldn't hurt her. She'd be safe as long as she was with him. He'd been saying so all along, but she was sure of it now. She didn't quite hate him anymore. She was beginning to see that there were reasons he'd become what he had—strong emotions that had shaped him into the man he was. If he was bitter, it was no wonder. He was alone in the world. And she knew what that felt like.
He seemed content to relax there with the music filling the room. Toni was eager to write down some of the interesting discoveries she'd made here and begin to fit them into her plot and Katrina Chekov's world. She hesitated, though. The fact remained that she was Toni Rio and her book would ruin Lou Taranto. If Nick found out, all bets were off.
She finished her yogurt. “You speak any Spanish, Nick?”
“Not a word,” he said, taking his last bite. She couldn't seem to take her eyes from him as he licked the pink cream from his lips. “Although I can tell when you're swearing at me.” He got up at long last, carried the cup to the kitchen sink and rinsed it. “I have to go out again. I might be a while.”
Toni sighed loudly.
“Don't tell me you'll miss me.” He was mocking, but not cruelly. It was almost a friendly sort of teasing.
“In your dreams, I might,” she replied in the same tone. She took her cup to the sink as he had, rinsed it, then turned, leaning her back on the drain board. “I don't like being locked up here alone. There's not a window in the place, not a soul to talk to—”
“There's music,” he said. “There are all those books.” He pointed at the shelf. “Besides, you can use the time to do some writing. If you get sick of that, there's a TV in the bedroom—”
“What's wrong with this one?” Toni couldn't resist asking.
“Not working right now,” he replied without missing a beat.
Toni chewed the inside of her lip. “If I spend every day sitting in this apartment, I'll gain twenty pounds inside a week. I run every day, for God's sake. I can't vegetate for God knows how long just because it's convenient for you.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the fridge. “Piling it on a bit, aren't you? It's only been one day.”
She smirked at him. “I thought you'd understand. You obviously work out—”
His brows shot up. “Not much slips by you, does it?” His amusement stirred her anger, but not for long. “How about a deal?”
Her curiosity rose up on its hind legs. “What kind of deal?”
“I have a basement gym. You behave yourself while I'm gone, and I'll take you down there.”
“When?” She sounded too eager, but she couldn't take it back now. She truly was beginning to feel like a caged animal.
“As soon as I can. But right now I have to go.” Toni sighed in resignation, while he perused her face.
He stepped closer, looked down at her, smiling slightly. “I wouldn't be averse to a kiss goodbye, if you're interested.”
“Since when do you ask permission?” She tried to make her answer sting, but her eyes went to his full lips the minute he asked the question.
He shrugged. “Is that a yes?”
“Only if you'd like to kiss my knuckles, Manelli.”
He nodded, his face splitting in a broad grin. “Atta girl. For a minute there I was afraid you might be losing your spunk.” He tousled her hair playfully as he spoke, then his hand stilled, buried in her curls. He took it away slowly so the long tendrils slipped between his fingers. Toni pushed off from the sink, ducked under his arm and moved quickly to the bedroom where she'd left the notebooks.
She picked them up. “I'll take your advice and do some writing, then. See you later.” She closed the bedroom door.
A moment later she heard him leave and she relaxed again. She'd have to be careful or she'd wind up liking the man. She'd have to keep reminding herself that no matter what kind of horrible childhood he'd had, it was no excuse for what he did now. Lots of people had lousy family lives and still managed to grow up and become productive citizens.
She was surprised that she was able to put him out of her mind and concentrate on writing. The words flowed from her at a remarkable rate. Time slipped by without her being aware of it. Pages filled, one after another. She wrote in Spanish so he wouldn't be able to read it and guess what she was doing.
Nick couldn't explain why he'd told her the things he had. He talked to no one about his family. He didn't even allow himself to think about them. None of it mattered; it was in the past and that's where it should remain. It had no bearing on his life today. With one exception. Danny's death was at the core of his need to end Lou Taranto's reign as king of the underworld. The man had been getting rich on other people's suffering for too long. It would end. Nick would be the one to end it.
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 t
he 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 bodie
s 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.
He'd kept working in that dive for two years after he'd lost Danny, and the entire time he'd been in training. He told himself it was because he had to be tough to keep the job. Deep down, though, he knew he was bulking up so he'd be ready to take on Lou Taranto and his thugs.
It was only later he’d realized the best way to do that was to go into law enforcement.
Nick forced the mismatched memories from his mind. Why had he thought about his past so much lately—about Danny? Was it just having her here that brought the memories on? Was it because he felt, even from his first glimpse of her standing terrified at the edge of that alley, an irrational urge to protect her? Just the way he'd wanted to protect Danny.
He'd known his brother was in trouble, and he'd tried every way he knew to talk him back from the edge. Danny ignored Nick's warnings and walked face first into the fire. He'd left Nick alone, just as their worthless father and mother had. Just as little Antonia would do if he gave her half a chance, he thought, even if it was likely to get her killed.
He wouldn't let her do that.
He shook himself and plugged the telephone in to call Carl. He was already late.
“Yeah, Carlito's Pizza, whaddya want?”
“Sausage and mushrooms to go,” Nick replied, to let Carl know that he, too, was alone and free to talk.
“Where've you been, Nick? On vacation?”
“Couldn't be helped. You forget I have myself a new roommate?” Nick glanced up at the bedroom door and wondered if the little snoop was listening. “You have enough money for that card game tonight?”
“Not unless I win the first few hands.”
“That's what I figured,” Nick said. “Go down to the gym. I left a package in your locker.”
“Greenbacks? Thanks, Nick.”
“Thank Taranto. It's what he gave me for handling that little problem the other night.”
Carl hesitated. “You—uh—think he might've marked the bills, Nick? If he connects us—”
“I did some banking today. The money's clean.”
“Perfect. How's your guest, by the way?”
“Just beautiful. What do you say I send her to your place for a while?''
Carl laughed. “Uh-uh, pal. You caught her, you keep her.”
“I was afraid you'd say that. Listen, I need you to call Harry for me. I never know when she has her ear pressed to the door.”
“Curious, huh?”
“A little too curious. She knows stuff she shouldn't. She's got a sister, and I'm uncomfortable with her security. I want you to have Harry assign a man to try to figure out who she is and where she is, and make sure she’s all right. I want to know if one of Taranto's guys gets within ten blocks of her.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Yeah. A background check on the lady herself. She's holding back.”
“I'll call Harry right now. Then I have to head over to the Century. I'll see you after the game if there's anything worth telling you.”
Nick hung up, unplugged the telephone and took it with him when he left. The tension coiled tight inside him hadn't eased any, and he needed to work it off. If he didn't, he thought he was likely to wring Antonia's pretty neck for keeping so much from him. A little voice whispered that wringing her neck wasn't at all what he'd like to do to her.
He felt a pang of guilt on the way down. He had promised her a crack at the basement gym...and he would give her one. To have her with him now would defeat the purpose. She was the source of the tension he needed to get rid of.
Toni hadn't heard his telephone conversation because she'd locked herself in the bathroom to pace and try to work through her new theory. It seemed so obvious all at once. Nick didn't just switch personalities arbitrarily. It had to be deliberate. He was like two men in one body, entirely different with Viper and Taranto than he was with her. She'd been confused by him before. How could he point a gun at her head one minute and buy her notebooks the next? She wasn't confused anymore. She thought she knew the answer.
He wasn't working for Lou Taranto at all. He was undercover, just like she was. He was probably some kind of cop. FBI. DEA. Something.
Joy at her newfound theory bubbled in her chest, and she caught herself grinning. Wait a minute, she thought, pulling a mental emergency brake. Just why does this idea make me so damn happy?
Why shouldn't it? It certainly would improve my odds of surviving this mess.
It would also ease the guilt she'd been feeling for allowing herself to be physically attracted to a man whose moral values were roughly equivalent to those of pond slime.
Am I saying that it’s now okay to feel slightly attracted to him?
No way, she realized. She could eas
ily be adding two and two and coming up with eighty-nine. She might only be seeing what she wanted to see and not what was truly there. Still, she couldn't help but feel a hint of relief that he'd made that promise about protecting her sister. If he was a cop, the offer made perfect sense.
And what if he's just a great liar?
She had no idea how much time had passed, but she finally realized she was too wound up to sleep and that her stomach was too empty to relax anyway. When she emerged from the bathroom, Nick was nowhere in sight. She located the Chinese food in the fridge and helped herself to a little bit of it. She no longer feared he'd try to poison her. Besides, he'd eaten from both cartons. She took her plate to the coffee table and wondered if he'd left the house or just the apartment. If she was going to find out who Nick Manelli really was, she would have to keep a close eye on him.
Retrieving the remote control and flicking the TV on, she got comfortable on the sofa. She used the buttons to move from room to room, but didn't see him in any of them. Then the basement gym filled the screen. She choked on her peanut chicken and dropped the remote when her fingers went limp.
She'd found him. He lay on a bench, knees bent, feet flat to the floor on either side. He wore a pair of baggy yellow shorts with an elastic waist and nothing else. His chest was bare and magnificent. He pressed a bar with several disks at each end. His face contorted as he pressed. Sweat made a sheen over his nose and forehead. He clenched his teeth, his lips pulling away from them each time he pushed the bar up, away from his body.
Toni stood slowly, her gaze magnetized by the image on the screen. His arms bulged with each rep. His chest muscles expanded, his pectorals rippling with the effort. She dropped to her knees and felt around for the remote, found it and thumbed the volume control without looking. He grunted with every rep. He didn't count, just emitted a guttural “ummf.” The sound seemed forced from him.
She'd known he was big. She'd felt the hardness of his body whenever she'd had physical contact with him. She'd felt the bulge of those muscles under his clothes when he'd held her close to him—but, dear God in heaven, she hadn't imagined he looked like that. She could only imagine how he'd feel....
Toni flicked the power button off and sat there, blinking at the now-dark screen. Her stomach had a tiny lead ball resting right in its center. God, her throat was dry. She couldn't swallow.
She went to the kitchenette and opened a cupboard for a glass. She needed to drink something. When she glanced up, the rounded, amber-colored bottle caught her gaze. It lay on its side, bottom facing out, on the top shelf. A plain old bottle of Jack Daniel's, not that expensive stuff he’d been feeding to Lou Taranto. Toni pulled a kitchen chair closer and told herself it was only to help her sleep.