Chapter 5
Nick stretched his hour-long workout into two and then some. He hadn't realized just how much he needed it until he got started. By the time he began to feel a little of the tension slip away, he'd pretty much exhausted himself. He spent another hour in the pool trying to cool down and relax.
When he finally showered and went back upstairs, the apartment was silent. He opened the bedroom door and peeked in. Antonia was curled on his bed, breathing deeply. There was a glass with a bit of amber liquid in the bottom on the stand beside the bed. Frowning, Nick moved quietly across the room, picked the glass up and sniffed. Whiskey. She’d been snooping again.
He looked down at her and wondered why she felt in need of a shot. Was she that wrought up over her sister? She stirred and sighed. The light from the living room spilled through the slightly open bedroom door and landed on her hair, so it gleamed like a raven's wing. For one wild second, he had the insane urge to bend over her and kiss her lips—to taste the flavor of the whiskey on them and the flavor of her behind them. He shook himself and turned to leave the room. God knew what she'd think if she woke and found him standing over her.
It was tough to leave, though. He wasn't sure why it gave him such a rush to look at her as she slept. It couldn't have been that glorious hair all over the place, or that she hugged his pillow to her like a lover. It couldn't be because in this light, her skin was the color of cinnamon or that he could see the dampness and smell the soap from her recent shower.
He made himself take a step toward the door. She moaned softly in her sleep, and he stopped.
“Mmm,'' she murmured again. And then, in a whisper, “Nick.”
She could have hit him with a hammer and done less damage. She'd whispered his name in her sleep—and she'd said it as if...
He stepped closer and sat down gently on the edge of the bed. He smoothed the hair away from her face and looked at her. Her eyes opened slowly, and for an elastic moment she gazed up at him, a lazy smile curving her lips. Her hand came up to cover his, where it rested on her cheek. She blinked.
Her eyes flew wide. She yanked the covers to her chin and moved as far from him as possible. “What do you want?”
Nick shrugged innocently. “You called me, Antonia. I thought something was wrong.” He watched her face, making no move to get off the bed. “Was it a dream?”
Her eyes were huge and darker than midnight as she searched her memory. “No!” She shook her head fast, so her hair flew. “I mean, not a dream. A—a nightmare.”
He frowned. “That's funny. You were smiling when I came in. Looked as if you were about to start purring.” He tried to sound genuinely concerned. “What was this... nightmare about?''
She shook her head once more. “I don't know. I really don't remember.” She said it quickly, not even bothering to try.
“That's the thing about dreams. They're so vivid and then they're gone.” He touched her chin with the tip of his forefinger. “The real thing, Antonia, you'd never forget.”
He got up, chuckling, and strolled out of the room. He could feel the daggers she was shooting at his back before he closed the door. As soon as he finished grinning, he asked himself why it gave him such an absurdly huge sense of satisfaction to know that he wasn't the only one having impure thoughts. It certainly wouldn't make things any easier. He couldn't just hop into bed with her and go on about his business.
Why the hell not?
The question stopped him cold. Why not? He'd done it before. What was so different about her?
Dumb question. Everything about Toni was different. So damn small, she seemed fragile as crystal, and so damn intrepid she was always on the brink of disaster. She was a giant in a tiny body. She was a sorceress, dancing through his mind but always just out of reach. Her eyes were black quicksand. A man could get lost in those eyes and never find his way out.
He paced for a while, then reclined on the couch knowing he'd never close his eyes. How could he, when he knew she was just in the next room, as wide-awake and restless as he was? He shook his head, trying not to think about a sure cure for both of them.
It was a relief when Carl showed up later. Nick reached for the remote, checked to be sure his friend was alone and let him in. The smaller man was flushed right down to the bald spot in the middle of his head, came in pacing, and talking too fast and too loud. Nick had to keep reminding him to keep his voice down.
“Okay, Nick, okay. But this is hot. It's going down tomorrow night and I'm in. I can't let it go. Not this time.”
Nick took his friend's arm and urged him into the kitchen, as far from the bedroom as possible. “Slow down, Carl. What is happening tomorrow night?”
“Heroin. A big shipment of it, coming in from I don’t fucking know where, but it’ll be arriving at Taranto's warehouse sometime after nine p.m. Four guys have to be there to unload and I'm one of 'em.”
Nick schooled his face into an emotionless mask. It had been heroin that had killed Danny. Heroin important and distributed by Lou Taranto. “So?”
“Come on, Nick, you know what I'm saying. That stuff will hit the streets in a matter of days, if not hours. Lou has a crew waiting to split it up for distribution, and we both know they'll be selling it in no time. I can't let that go.” He shook his head and ran one hand over it, front to back. “We have to look the other way all the time when we're under. I can't do it this time.”
“It's your tip, Carl. Call it. We'll play it your way.”
Carl looked at Nick for a long moment, his blue eyes thoughtful. “If we let the stuff get inside the warehouse, we might as well forget it. The place is like Fort Knox. A lot of cops would go down in a raid.”
“So what do you want to do?” Nick thought he already knew the answer, and he knew he wasn't going to like it. Allowing Fat Lou's poison to hit the streets was unacceptable...but so was losing his best friend. His only friend.
“I'm dropping an anonymous tip to the local cops,” Carl said. “Gonna let ‘em know when the truck is due in and what it's hauling. They'll be there waiting.”
Nick expelled his breath in a rush. “They'll be there, all right, and they'll be loaded for bear. There's no way you can tip them that there's a Federal agent with the suspects. You'll probably end up getting your head blown off.”
“Forewarned and all that, pal. I knew the risks when I signed on. Besides, better I buy it than some kid who ought to know better. Some kid like Danny.” He paused to let that sink in. “I figure this way I give the cops a pretty fair chance, with only four guys and the driver shooting back at them.”
“Five guys and the driver,” Nick said softly. “I’m gonna be there with you.”
Toni leaned closer to the door. She had to strain to make out what they were saying because they spoke so softly. They must be in the kitchen. She recognized Carl's voice, but so far, hadn't understood half of what they'd said. She opened the door a crack, better to hear them and hoped they wouldn’t notice as she knelt low and peeked through.
“Oh, that's brilliant, Nick. You come along, that way we can both get shot full of holes.”
Nick's eyes looked like Toni had never seen them. Possessed or something. “How long's it been, Carl? Huh?” He was almost whispering. “What, twelve years now? You remember when you lost Gina and crawled into a bottle headfirst? It took some doing, but I snapped you out of it.”
Carl sniffed. “Smashed every damn bottle I had and wouldn't let me out of your sight for a week.”
“Even further back than that,” Nick went on, and his voice was gritty. “The night Danny OD'ed. I lost it. I wanted blood and I was ready to get it with my bare hands. If you'd let me go out that night, I'd never have come back alive. You remember? You had to sit on me to keep me from going after Taranto alone. You ended up with a black eye by morning—”
“The way I remember it, you weren't too pretty the next day, either.”
“Hell, I had twenty pounds on you even then, Salducci.”
> “Yeah, but I had ten years on you, you muscle-bound punk.”
Toni opened the door a fraction of an inch further. Nick put one hand on Carl's arm. “You stuck by me, Carl. You're the only one who did. It's gonna hit the fan tomorrow night, and I'm damn well gonna be there to tell you when to duck.”
“More like I'm gonna be there to carry your oversize ass home when it's over.” Carl stepped more clearly into Toni's range of vision. He was at least four inches shorter than Nick and sported some excess flesh that wouldn't dare attach itself to Nick's body. His face was shadowed with beard, and his black hair grew in a horseshoe pattern around a bald center. When he looked at Nick again, she saw the resignation in his face.
“So the cops get a truckload of smack, we get shot at, and Lou gets fucked,” Carl said. “Sounds good. You think you can manage to get in on this? I mean, you can't just show up—”
Nick held up a hand. “If I work this right, it'll be Lou's idea to send me along.” He slapped Carl's back. “Get yourself a vest and wear it.”
“I'll just borrow one from you. That way I'll be covered clear to my knees.”
Toni closed the door soundlessly when they returned to the living room. She crept back to bed in case Nick should check. She'd heard only a minute's worth of their conversation, but it was enough. More than enough. Nick had lost his brother to drugs and he’d wanted to kill Lou Taranto for that. He couldn't possibly be working for the biggest heroin supplier in the state. It just wasn't possible. He had to be one of the good guys.
She'd heard enough to know that there was a tight bond between the two men, and more than she wanted to know about what was going on tomorrow night. They were going to walk into a situation that could get them both killed.
She spent the remainder of the night awake, turning their words over and over in her mind.
In the morning, when she rose and showered and dressed, it wouldn't leave her alone. The image of bullets flying toward Nick—toward both of them—haunted her constantly.
He wasn't there when she walked into the living room. Did the man ever sleep? She dragged herself into the kitchen for some coffee, following the rich aroma that had reached her the second she'd opened the bedroom door. It smelled great, but the way her stomach was churning, she wondered if she could even handle a single cup. She filled a heavy stoneware mug despite her doubts and held it with both hands as she paced the room.
She shouldn't be wondering where Nick had gone this morning. She shouldn't worry that he was already embroiled in a film noir-style gunfight.
Yeah, she shouldn't be worried but she was. She took the remote and checked the mansion, but she'd already known she wouldn't find him. A sense of emptiness pervaded the place with his absence.
God, what if he'd already gone on this suicide mission of his?
No. She'd heard them say that whatever was happening would happen tonight.
But would he return before all of that? Was he somewhere right now, preparing for it? Would he go directly to that hell of crisscrossing bullets?
She stood still, closed her eyes and took a bracing gulp of hot coffee, then grimaced. She hadn't put cream or sugar in it.
“Enough, already.” She moved purposefully to the counter and spooned sugar into her mug, then stirred. To keep from imagining all sorts of melodramatic nonsense she could do nothing about, she decided to distract herself by writing.
An hour later the coffee was stone-cold and her mind was nowhere near Katrina Chekov's world. Her efforts ended when she tore a sheet from the notebook, crumpled it into a tight ball and threw it across the room. The pencil followed, as soon as she'd snapped it in half. The entire notebook sailed through the air a moment later to join its companions in a corner. Toni got to her feet and paced the room. The confinement made her claustrophobic. The knowledge that the door was sealed and that the only person who knew how to open it might get himself killed before he came back here to let her out had her chewing her nails. Sitting here doing nothing, while he might be out there getting shot at, had her crazy.
She stopped pacing when her agitated gait took her right up to the door. Her gaze fixed on the numbered panel beside it, and a new thought made itself heard above all the others.
The panel had ten numbered squares. She was fairly certain it took three to open the door. But which three? Did it matter? She'd have to hit on it eventually. She began with 1-1-1.
Nick had phoned Lou at the crack of dawn and arranged to meet with him at a truck stop off the highway. Always on time, Lou was waiting in a booth near the back of the place when Nick arrived.
He stood, clapped a hand to Nick's shoulder and waved him to the padded bench seat. Lou let his gaze sweep the place when they were both sitting, and Nick followed suit. There was a long counter facing the doors, and a line of stools with deep red upholstered seats. An old-fashioned cash register sat on one end of the counter, and a man who looked as if he ought to be in a boxing ring moved back and forth behind it. Booths like the one they were in lined the other three walls. The open floor was a maze of stackable shelving, all of it cluttered with snack foods, magazines and toiletries. The air was thick with the smell of hot grease.
“Nice place you picked, Nicky.” Lou couldn't keep the worry from his voice. “What's wrong? Why'd you call so early?”
Nick sighed and tried to look tormented. He glanced at the waitress, whose parents had done a disservice by not getting her braces when she was young. She hurried toward them, pulling a pad from her apron pocket and a pen from her nest of brown hair. “Coffee,” Nick told her. “You want some breakfast, Lou? It's on me.”
Lou shook his head once. “I'm on a tight schedule.”
“Just coffee, then,” Nick told the girl. “Bring the pot.”
She nodded, replaced the pad and was back in less than a minute with a bubble-shaped carafe. She turned over both their cups, filled them and disappeared again, seeming to sense that the two men did not want to be bothered.
Lou sipped. “Just cause I’m backing you to be made, Nick, that doesn’t mean I’m at your beck and call. I came this time, but you need to know––”
“I know. It won’t happen again, Lou.”
Nodding once, Lou waited. Nick cleared his throat. “I've been thinking about what Vi—” He broke off, glancing around the place with feigned nervousness. “What our friend had to say the other day.”
“He said a lot of things.”
“About the vote,” Nick clarified. “I'm afraid he might've been right. I'm not proven.”
“You took the broad out, Nicky. That's proof enough for me.”
“You only have one vote.”
Nick watched Lou's expression gradually go grim. Finally the fat man nodded, causing his flabby jowls to sway slightly. “Truth is, Nicky, the other bosses aren't sure about you yet. It might not go the way I wanted it to. But I'll keep backing you. Sooner or later—”
“I don't want it sooner or later, I want it now!” Nick made a show of forcing his temper back down. “Look, can't you set me up with something, give me some kind of assignment that would show my loyalty?”
Lou frowned and squeezed his chin in one hand. “There's nothing big enough going on—”
“Then it's hopeless.” Nick leaned back hard and stared into his coffee cup.
Lou released his chin and drummed his fingers on the table. “There is a shipment coming in tonight. Not a big enough deal to earn you much clout—then again, it can't hurt.”
Nick brought his head up fast. “I'll take anything you can give me, Lou. I want this so bad I can taste it.”
He tried not to grin as Lou began to tell him about the shipment that would arrive by truck at his warehouse that night, and he whistled as he drove back to the mansion a little while later. This thing was going smoother than he'd hoped.
Toni was all the way up to the possible combinations beginning with 3 before she realized she'd made a big mistake. 3-1-1 had no effect on the security system. When she
tried 3-1-2, a bell started ringing—a high-pitched jangling that refused to stop stabbed at her ears and pierced her brain. The red lights beside the numbered panel flashed at her like scolding eyes.
She jumped back, barely suppressing a yelp when the door flew open and Nick's broad frame filled her vision. His face taut with anger, he stepped inside, slammed the door and rapidly punched a series of numbers on the panel. The alarm died at once, leaving a leaden silence in its place.
“What kind of asinine stunt was that?” He didn't raise his voice, but each clipped word made his displeasure perfectly clear.
She was so relieved to see him back in one piece that his ill humor didn't faze her. She turned her back to him so he wouldn't see it in her face, still trying to convince herself that her gnawing worry had been for her own sake, not his. If something happened to Nick, she'd be imprisoned here indefinitely. She hadn't truly cared that he might get shot—or killed. She wouldn't let herself care. She didn’t even know who the real Nick Manelli was.
“Well?”
She pressed her fingertips to her temples and closed her eyes. “I...had to try.”
“Why, for God's sake? Toni, you’re safe here. You wouldn't be out there. I thought you understood that.”
She turned to face him, feeling a bristle of anger that chased away her limp relief. “You can't expect me to sit here, docile as a lamb, while life-and-death decisions are being made for me by a man I'm not even sure I can trust!”
His brows came together. “Not sure you can trust? Isn't that a major change in attitude? I thought you had me pegged as a rung or two below Satan.”
She averted her gaze and shrugged.
“As for sitting here, docile as a lamb, that's the last thing I expect from you, lady. ‘Docile’ is not an adjective I'd use to describe you. But you are here and you are going to stay so you might as well resign yourself to the fact. This place is buttoned up tighter than a spinster's corset. You're here until I say otherwise.”
To Toni's ears it was a challenge. “Is that so? Well, I guess that's right. I'm here and I've got nothing but time on my hands. If I can't find a way out of this hole, then my name isn't Toni Ri––” She stopped herself just before she blurted “Rio.”
Nick's eyes narrowed and he studied her face. His gaze swept the room, falling on the crumpled paper and abused notebook in the corner. She shook her head and spun away to pace to the kitchen. He drew a long breath and let it out slowly. “Confinement’s making you crazy, huh?”
She turned, then dropped her gaze before his, because he seemed to see so much. It was making her a lot more crazy since she'd overheard that conversation last night.
“Sit down, Toni.”
She didn't argue. She was too tired. She went to the sofa and curled on one end with her legs tucked beneath her. Imagining him caught in the cross fire, cops firing at him from one side, criminals from the other, had taken a lot of energy. The relief left her weak. Nick sat down close to her. She felt his lingering gaze but didn't return it. She braced her elbow on the cushioned arm and rested her forehead in her upturned palm.
“I need you to promise not to mess with the security system again, Toni. I can't have the alarm going off every time I leave the house.”
“I don't believe this,” she murmured. “My life's turned inside out, my sister probably thinks I’m dead, and you're worried about your precious security system?”
He dropped his gaze and seemed to consider his next words carefully before speaking. Finally he looked at her again. “For all I know, the house could be wired. Do you know what that means?”
Toni's curiosity rose to the surface like a shark at the scent of blood. It swallowed her frustration in one bite, her anger in the next. “Wired by whom? The police?”
He looked away. “Maybe.”
“No,” she said softly. “It's Taranto, isn't it? You think Taranto might be listening in.” She knew she was right because the slight flicker in his eyes gave him away.
“The point is, those alarms would seem curious to anyone who might be eavesdropping. What if it was Taranto? If he finds out you're here...”
He didn't finish. He didn't have to. Toni was well aware what her fate would be if Taranto discovered her. That Nick thought Taranto would trust him so little—that was interesting to her.
“Why don't you just sweep the house?” She asked the question only to prolong the conversation. She'd hoped he'd say something that would confirm her suspicion that he was not what he pretended.
He watched her as he spoke. “The house is too big to sweep daily. I'd miss some nook or cranny.”
Unconsciously chewing her thumbnail, Toni looked up suddenly. “That's why you stay in this apartment. It's small, easy to sweep, and no one knows it's here so it's unlikely they'd bug it anyway.” She paused, looking around the room with new understanding. “The phone must be secure, too. Probably has a bug signal, doesn't it? What if someone tries to trace a call? Does it bounce off relays and give them some sham number in Brooklyn or something?”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You seem to know a lot about this stuff, Toni. You want to tell me why that is?''
She'd allowed herself to get caught up in her own excitement and had run off at the mouth, she realized grimly. She tried to look nonchalant and shrugged. If he was a cop, she must be making him hellishly uncomfortable. If not, she might very well have put herself at risk. “I read a lot of thrillers.”
His jaw was tight, and his brown eyes probed hers like surgical instruments. “Then you ought to be able to see why it would be a big mistake to mess with the panel again. That alarm going off when I'm not even in the house is as good as a flare going up on a dark night. The wrong people notice it, it will be as bad for you as it will be for me.” His tone was calmly dictatorial—as if he expected no disagreement on her part. As if he would not tolerate any disagreement.
He had a way of putting things so they made perfect sense, even in this crazy situation. She found herself feeling guilty for setting off the alarm. “I'll promise not to try it again if you'll stop disappearing without a word. I was wor— I was scared when I got up this morning and you were gone. What was I supposed to do? I wasn't even sure you'd be back. I couldn't just sit in front of the television and wait for a news report to tell me your body had been found in a swamp somewhere—”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He shook his head, puzzled. Then understanding crept over his face. “You were listening last night.”
“Not long enough,” she shot back. She was tired of playing games with him. “I didn't hear a word to explain why two seemingly sane men would deliberately put themselves into the middle of a shooting match.”
He caught her chin and tilted it up so he could stare down into her eyes. She hoped to God he couldn't see what caused the intense burning behind them. “Don't tell me you were worried about me.”
She jerked her chin free, angry because she had been, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. “Dream on, Manelli.”
“I will if you will, del Rio.”
He referred to her dream last night, of course. She could have slapped him for that remark. She couldn't help it if her subconscious mind was unstable enough to conjure images of him, of them...
She shook her head and pretended she didn't know what he was talking about. “I just don't care to be left in the cell when the jailer checks out.” She glanced at him again, sensing a chance to get a clue to the truth from him. “Why would you risk your life for Lou Taranto? Don't you realize he is personally responsible for seventy percent of the heroin in the city?” She shook her head. “I would think that when you lost your own brother to that garbage you'd—”
“You are a good listener, aren't you?” He kept a tight hold on his anger, but she could see it there. It flashed in those deep brown eyes. “My brother is none of your business.” His gaze wavered. He looked at his hands. “He's dead and buried. He has nothing to do with me or what I choose
to do with my life.”
The raw agony in his voice was like a whip lashing her heart. It also gave the lie away. His brother had everything to do with his life. She couldn't stop her hand from going to his arm. “That was hitting below the belt. I'm sorry.” He didn't look at her. “Nick?”
“Go change,” he told her. “I'll take you down to the gym for an hour.”
All day Nick tried to shake the feeling of impending doom. The damn woman was hiding something from him; he was sure of it. She knew about bugs and sweeping for them. She knew about phone taps and bug signals. Worse than that, he was sure she suspected his goodfella routine was a sham. She wouldn't let it drop. She was like a dog with a three-day-old bone. She had to keep gnawing at it.
And the ways she had of getting at him! When she looked at him with those giant, dark-jewel eyes, he wanted to tell her everything. When she'd mentioned his brother, he nearly had. To let her think he could work for Danny's killer was too much—but he had to do it.
He'd left her alone in the gym for over an hour. When he'd finally interrupted, she was doing transverse sit-ups on an incline bench. For a moment he just watched her. Her face was red. Her hair was damp and sticking to her face. The T-shirt she wore had wet spots beneath her breasts and between them, and in the middle of her back.
He felt bad for having kept her cooped up the way he had and he tried to make up for it. He took her swimming, then served her lunch in the formal dining room, warning her first they'd have to remain quiet. He took her on a tour of the entire mansion and found himself enjoying it, although neither of them could speak above a whisper.
The day passed quickly, and they were back in the hidden apartment now. She was soaking in a hot bath to ease her muscles after the workout she'd inflicted on herself. While she was occupied, Nick plugged in the phone and dialed his supervisor’s number. He needed to know what the background check on Toni had turned up. He was told that Harry was “unavailable.” He could be reached later tonight, but then Nick would be unavailable. He'd have to wait until tomorrow.
Toni emerged from her bath with all that wild black hair, still damp, pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a pair of baggy gray sweats and a matching pullover with Yosemite Sam on the front. How was it possible, he heard himself wonder, for a woman to look so alluring with Yosemite Sam on her chest?
“What's the matter? Do I have something caught between my teeth?”
Nick shook himself. “What?”
“You were staring,” she told him. She moved through the living room, into the kitchen, and yanked open the refrigerator. She took out a can of cola, popped the top and took a long drink. Nick watched her throat move as she swallowed. He had to force his gaze away from her.
When he glanced up again, she was the one staring. Her eyes were focused on a point just beyond him, and her face was slightly pale. He turned to see what had caught her attention. The bulletproof vest he'd dug out was slung over the back of the couch. She looked at it as if she thought it might come to life and bite her.
“You're really going to do this, aren't you?”
“I don't have a choice, Toni, and if it's all the same to you, I'd just as soon not spend the next hour and a half talking about it”
She blinked fast and averted her face. “You could get yourself killed—”
“Only if you pray real hard.”
Her head snapped around, her eyes hard as coal chips. “I wouldn't pray for that. You don’t really think I could, do you?”
“I was kidding. Lighten up, will you?” He stepped closer to her. “Look, I'd rather think about something else until it's time to go.”
Her eyes got all smoky and dark as they latched onto his.
He pointed to the box on the coffee table. “I was referring to that. Of course, if you'd rather—”
“A jigsaw puzzle?” Toni frowned and went to the table, picking up the colorful box and shaking it so the pieces rattled. “You're ready to walk into a shooting gallery disguised as a duck, and you want to put a jigsaw puzzle together?”
“It's a ritual.” Nick shrugged. He took the box from her and dumped the pieces in a chaotic mound on the carpet. “Helps me focus.”
He didn't mention that it would also—he hoped—help him keep his mind away from the thought that had been recurring all day: that if he was going to die tonight, and if he'd been given a last request, it would have been to spend several hours in bed with Antonia. Visions of her small, firm body, unclothed and crushed against his, crept into his mind unbidden. Whenever he touched her or caught the barest hint of her scent, he had to restrain himself from taking her into his arms and kissing her breath away. When had this obsession with her taken over? He was about to go into battle, for God's sake—yet all he could think about was how it would feel to love every inch of the ebony-eyed beauty.
He sat cross-legged on the floor and began sorting the outside pieces, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand.