“Damn that Tobias woman!” Joni said. “Why she has to have her party on the same night I have mine, I never will know, but I certainly understand about the dancing. The two of you are made to dance together!”
As they descended the stairs toward the portico, Roberto pointed out, “We’re becoming quite the well-known couple.”
“Wait until your trial,” Brandi advised, “when we tell everyone I followed you around under court order.”
“I wonder how many people will believe that?”
“All of them,” she said crisply. “I’ll make sure of it.”
The dinner hadn’t softened her ire quite as much as he’d hoped.
“I see you didn’t tell Howard that we were leaving their lovely dinner to first go visit the Fosseras,” she said.
“Sometimes I show a regrettable tendency toward lying.”
“I suspected that.”
“But not to you, my Brandi.” Leaning close, he whispered in her ear, “Never to you.”
He was delighted to note she hesitated before roundly saying, “And I’ve got a bridge I want to sell you.”
Against all logic, she wanted to believe him.
When they pulled up to the Knights of Columbus hall, Brandi’s mouth dropped. “Come on! The Fosseras can’t afford a nice place for their parties?”
“They can.” Roberto watched as Newby carefully parked the limo in a way that guaranteed them a quick getaway . . . if they should need one. “But their nice places are for their wives.”
“You mean it’s a guy party?”
“Not at all. But I don’t believe we’ll meet any wives here tonight.”
“They’re partying with prostitutes? And we’re going in?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t expose you to prostitutes.” He helped her out of the car. “They’re with their mistresses.”
20
The big room had been professionally decorated and the food professionally catered. The band that played could have performed in the best nightclub in the city. But the Fosseras had still held their party at a Knights of Columbus hall rife with cigar smoke and the faint scent of gym clothes.
Roberto counted the number of Fosseras over by the bar—twenty-two—and paid particular attention to the number of exits, including the windows. He noted the clump of females standing together near the dance floor, laughing shrilly and drinking everything from tequila shots to frozen drinks decorated with colorful little umbrellas.
“Oh. My.” Brandi sounded amazed and impressed. “I didn’t know about the contest.” She handed her coat to the check girl.
“What contest?” Roberto smiled at the girl with special warmth, hoping that if he and Brandi had to make a hasty exit she’d remember which garments were theirs.
“The one where the woman dressed most like a slut wins. Yipes! Are any of these girls over twenty?”
Mossimo walked toward them, smiling, hand outstretched.
Brandi lowered her voice. “I assume the loser of the contest has to sleep with him.”
“It’s whispered on the streets that his wife sends him into the arms of his mistress with a sigh of relief,” Roberto said quietly.
“I’ll bet.” When Mossimo reached them, she dimpled and said, “Hello, Mr. Fossera, how good to meet you again.”
“Hey! It’s the lawyer,” Mossimo said. “Whiskey, right?”
“What?” she asked in confusion.
“Your name’s Whiskey, right?”
“My name is Southern Comfort,” she corrected him smoothly.
She was smart-mouthing Mossimo Fossera, a man with no sense of humor and a damned touchy dignity. Roberto wanted to spank her.
Instead he chuckled indulgently. “Southern Comfort is also what she’s been drinking.” He patted her butt. “Run along and talk to the other girls, honey, and when I’m done here I promise to take you home and give you what you deserve.”
“I’m so much more at ease with you, darling.” Brandi gazed at him with wide-eyed and bogus adulation.
“As you wish.” Roberto caught her fingers in his and kissed them. “She adores me and wants to be at my side always,” he said—in Italian.
“I can see that.” Mossimo watched her with a critical gaze and he, too, spoke in Italian. “But women need to seek their own kind, heh?”
“Well!” Brandi flounced with pretended indignation. “If you’re going to be rude and speak Italian all night, I’m going to get a drink.”
“Remember the special qualities of champagne,” Roberto said.
Giving him a look that promised retribution, she headed off toward the knot of scantily clad women.
“She’s quite the little firebrand,” Mossimo said. “If you ever want someone to tame her—”
“I like wildcats.”
“Your grandfather was the same way, but it’s not good for a man to be under a woman’s thumb.”
“Ah, but you don’t know what Brandi can do with her thumb.” Roberto grinned. “Thank you for the invitation to visit you tonight, Mossimo. I especially appreciate the firm suggestion that I show up.”
“Hey, I like to see my friends when I like to see my friends.” Mossimo threw his arm over Roberto’s shoulders and led him toward the men by the bar. “So . . . have you thought about the proposition I made you?”
“To steal the Romanov Blaze?”
“Sh!” Mossimo glanced at the caterers. “Don’t be careless.”
“Speak into the microphone, heh?” Roberto touched the flower in his lapel.
“Yeah. Speak into the microphone.” Mossimo laughed weakly.
The Fossera men stood with drinks in their hands, watching Mossimo, watching Roberto, quiet, menacing . . . waiting.
“Ricky, man, good to see you again.” Roberto shook hands with him. “Danny. Greg.” His gaze swept the group. “But where’s Fico?”
“He’s around somewhere,” Ricky said.
“Gone out for a smoke,” Greg said.
“I hope I get to see him.” How interesting that he had chosen to absent himself now. “But these guys I don’t know.” Roberto indicated the younger men, twenty to twenty-five, standing against the wall.
They were sullen; one even turned his back as they walked up.
“They’re boys. They’re not important.” With a gesture, Mossimo ordered them to leave. “Go dance with your girlfriends.”
Roberto watched as they drifted away, muttering at being dismissed so lightly. No wonder Mossimo was losing his grip on his family and the business. Trouble brewed among the testosterone-driven youths.
Brandi had stepped into the girlfriends’ conversation and now chatted animatedly, but he saw the glazed amazement in her eyes as the young men slouched over and, without a word, took the girls by the hands and led them onto the dance floor.
The older women still stood with Brandi; they were Mossimo’s mistress, Greg’s mistress, Ricky’s mistress, Fico’s mistress. Brandi couldn’t have anything in common with them, and he feared that if he left her alone for long she’d try to rally the women to a revolt—and that would make the shit hit the fan.
They needed to get out of here, so he got right to the heart of the matter. “Mossimo, you said it yourself. To steal the Romanov Blaze from the museum is a huge challenge.”
The men moved into a circle around him, protecting him from eavesdroppers—for all the good it would do them.
Speak into the microphone.
“Are you frightened?” Greg taunted.
“Of course. Only a stupid man faces death without fear.” But Roberto didn’t show fear now. He showed nothing but a polite interest in the proposition.
“Maybe you can’t do it,” Mossimo said.
Roberto dismissed that with a flick of his fingers. “Can your guys get me in?”
“They can get you in.”
“Then I can steal the diamond. I have a plan already. I just don’t know why I should do it for you.”
Before he could say an
other word, he found himself slammed up against the wall, Mossimo’s forearm at his throat and Mossimo’s gun pointed at his head.
So. Mossimo couldn’t steal a jewel to save his ass, but he was still good with the strong-arm.
“Don’t even think of betraying me.” He shoved the cold pistol against Roberto’s cheek. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill your grandfather. I’ll kill that pretty lawyer of yours, and damn it, I’ll go to Italy to kill that whore of a mother of yours.”
Roberto recoiled, ready to strike back.
But when he’d walked in here, he’d tacitly agreed to the deal and tacitly agreed that Mossimo was his boss. He couldn’t balk now. Not because this worthless asshole called his mother names. Not because he’d threatened Brandi or Nonno. In this operation, timing was everything.
Mossimo held him against the wall for one more moment, cutting off his air, letting him feel the threat, before stepping away and holstering the gun.
Roberto sucked in air, trying to clear his spinning head. Across the room, he saw Brandi stalking toward them, and shook his head. No.
She stopped.
No. Don’t try to help me. You’ll make everything worse.
She inclined her head, but as she walked back to the crowd of wide-eyed women, she made it clear she left him with greatest reluctance.
When Roberto could speak, he said hoarsely, “You misunderstand me, Mossimo. While you’re known for many things, you’re not known for your generosity. What can you offer me that will make this worth my while? And don’t tell me prestige—I can’t take that to the bank.”
Slowly Mossimo’s scowl cleared. Greed . . . he understood greed. “You’re a famous jewel thief. To work with you is an honor. Of course I know this. What do you want to do this job for me?”
“Tonight I dined at the home of Howard and Joni Patterson, and Joni was wearing a ruby on a chain around her neck. It was easily four point three carats and the color of fresh blood.”
“I know of it.” Mossimo bowed his head as if in shame. “But I can’t get it. Their security is too good.”
“Usually.” Roberto examined his fingernails.
“What do you mean?” Mossimo asked alertly.
“Somehow, tonight their security in certain parts of their house was disabled,” Roberto told him.
“Somehow, eh?” Mossimo began to smile. “Hey, you! Ricky! Get our friend Roberto some wine.”
“Water.” Roberto rubbed his bruised throat.
“Water.” Mossimo pushed a chair under Roberto’s ass, and they sat down for a low-voiced conversation.
When Roberto stood up again, the game was set. The bargain was made.
“It’s a good deal,” Mossimo said. “You bring the diamond to the Stuffed Dog, and I’ll give you the Patterson ruby.”
“Good.” Roberto tapped Mossimo’s belly. “Remember who has done you this favor, Mossimo, and give me and my nonno the respect and peace we deserve.”
“Of course.” Mossimo embraced Roberto, kissed both his cheeks. “This is a one-shot deal, profitable for both of us, and it’s something to do with your time while you await trial, yes?”
Roberto nodded and noted how easily Mossimo gave him the kiss of betrayal. Judas would have been proud.
As Roberto strode across the floor, he crooked a finger at Brandi.
To his surprise, she obeyed him immediately and hurried to join him.
Taking his arm, she followed him to the hatcheck. “Congratulations, you discovered the one way guaranteed to make me respond to your every command. I’d do anything to get away from those women.”
Roberto chuckled, took their coats when the girl handed them over, and gave her a hearty tip. “Awful, was it?”
“Awful hardly begins to cut it.” Brandi let him wrap her scarf around her neck. “Did you know you can discuss a Brazilian wax for twenty whole minutes?”
“God, no. I don’t even want to think about it for one minute.” He shrugged into his coat and took her arm. Together they went out the door.
They hadn’t taken two steps when the scent of tobacco hit him. He stopped.
She kept walking. “Yes, as a subject of interest waxing is right between acrylic nails and acid peels. . . .” She peered back at him. “What’s wrong?”
Fico stepped out of the shadows, a cigarette tucked between two fingers. “Roberto, good to see you. And you.” He nodded at Brandi. “It’s cold out for a skinny thing like you.”
“Brandi.” Roberto jerked his thumb toward the limo.
“Sadly, I’m getting used to this.” Brandi marched away.
The two men watched her go, and when Newby had opened the door and helped her inside, Fico said, “So, my man, did you listen to Mossimo’s offer?”
“I did.” What did Fico have on his mind?
“You know you don’t have to do it.”
Interesting. “But I do. I am very fond of my grandfather.”
Fico stepped closer. “I can protect your grandfather.”
“That’s a spectacular promise, considering Mossimo’s reputation.”
“Mossimo has my greatest respect, always.”
No answer, yet all the answer Roberto needed. “And for my fee, Mossimo has promised me a jewel.”
“A dead man can’t collect payment.”
“So he plans to kill me after I get the diamond?” Roberto already knew it, but that Fico told him was confirmation of all he suspected. Fico wanted to take Mossimo’s place. He’d do what he must to prevent the robbery.
“I’m telling you that you would be better off leaving this job alone.”
This was tricky. Trickier than Roberto had imagined, because he had to do the job. “But Fico, knowing Mossimo plans to kill me adds excitement.”
Fico threw his cigarette into the dirt and gravel. “Do what you like, then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“No, I won’t say you didn’t warn me. In fact, I never saw you here tonight. It’s a shame we missed each other.” Roberto stripped off his glove and offered his hand.
Fico looked at Roberto’s outstretched hand, then grasped Roberto’s arm at the elbow. Roberto reciprocated, and the two men shook hard, once.
Against all evidence, Roberto liked Fico. The man wanted power, but not for the joy of inflicting pain. Fico was all about profit.
Taking a chance, Roberto leaned close. “Trust me. Fico, trust me.”
Fico scrutinized Roberto’s expression. “What would that gain me?”
“Exactly what you want, Fico. Trust me.”
“Only a fool trusts anyone but himself.”
“Then be a fool.”
Fico considered Roberto for one more minute. “I will think.”
“Do that.”
They broke apart. Roberto headed for the car and hoped his instincts hadn’t steered him wrong.
21
The cold wind swept into the car with Roberto, chilling Brandi more than the last hour—and that was saying something. When Mossimo had slammed Roberto against the wall and pointed that pistol at his head, she’d tried to scream. But one of the bimbos, one who looked about sixteen, had slapped her hand across Brandi’s mouth and said, “No. You’ll get him killed for sure!”
Brandi itched to get out of that Knights of Columbus hall, and she couldn’t leave. Of course, she could have run out the door—but for some inexplicable reason, it never occurred to her to abandon Roberto.
What had her life come to that she was responsible for a jewel thief who went looking for trouble?
So as Roberto slid close and the car smoothly drove off, she snapped, “You’re some kind of superhero black belt. Couldn’t you have knocked Mossimo ass over teakettle?”
Roberto stared at her as if he regretted knowing her name. Sighing hugely, he said, “It’s at times like this when I realize why the Fosseras keep their silly bimbos. Smart women are a pain.”
“I thought so. You could have kicked his butt! Why didn’t you?” She wrapped her hands around h
is wrist, felt the girth, the muscles, the tendons in her grasp.
“Did you happen to notice the number of sports jackets in that place? And the number of holster bulges underneath those sports jackets?”
“I know.” But for some reason, his words didn’t ring right with her. This powerful man had allowed a fat old bully to shove him around. He’d gone in there knowing Mossimo would probably do it, and he had submitted without a qualm.
Somehow, it felt as if she didn’t know all the facts.
Well. She didn’t. Roberto didn’t confide in her, and she should be glad. This way, when she got put on the stand and asked about the crime, she could truthfully say she knew nothing.
She subsided against the seat. “What happened after he took his gun out of your face?”
“I saw you coming across the floor to rescue me and almost had a heart attack. Are you crazy?” Roberto’s usually smooth tone grew harsh. “Do you know what those men are capable of?”
His aggressive display startled her. Alarmed her. Sort of . . . thrilled her. “I can guess. So why were we there?”
“If you ever see me in trouble again, don’t you dare try to rescue me.”
“You think I’m going to stand by and let someone shoot you?” Her voice rose, too.
Newby glanced in the rearview mirror. He must have heard them through the glass.
“What good will it do if you get shot, too?”
“At least I won’t have to live my whole life knowing I’m a coward!”
“Damn, woman.” Roberto caught her in his arms as if he couldn’t bear to be separated from her any longer. “You scare the hell out of me. Don’t you know the world is full of sharks, swindlers, and sons of bitches?”
“Yes, I’ve had one remanded into my custody!”
He kissed her.
She’d been waiting for this ever since she’d left him on Sunday evening. Every minute she’d been with him, breathing his scent, hearing his voice, watching him watch her, she’d wanted to taste him again. Now she reveled in his heat, in her arousal, in the motion of the car that carried her toward someplace where satisfaction waited.