Isa stopped next to her vehicle. Instead of letting her arm go, Chance held on and faced her.
She met his eyes—and quickly looked away. “No luck on, ahem, speaking with Robert?”
“No. He’s meeting with several guests who flew in this morning. They’re staying at his house and they have their own entourage of guards as well, so it’s not an opportune time.”
“Probably the Salucci brothers,” Isa murmured. “They’re another lovely criminal family vying for that oh-so-coveted ‘made man’ status. They’re rivals of Robert’s, too, if what I’ve overheard about them is true. I don’t know why they’d stay with him. They don’t like each other.”
“Probably because to refuse is to admit fear, and then that gives Robert the upper hand. Don’t worry. I listened in on them and they’ll be gone tomorrow. That means tomorrow night, I’ll have my talk with Robert.”
Isa shivered. “So many things could go wrong…”
“They won’t,” Chance said.
She gave him a jaded look. “Sure, you managed to get me to perch on your lap like a kid visiting Santa, but doing that and getting a mobster to spill his secrets is worlds apart. Not to mention that you’re the one with the greatest threat of repercussions if you failed. Robert might make things unpleasant for me or Frazier if you can’t pull off your hocus-pocus routine, but he’ll kill you. You know that, right? Really, I don’t understand why you’re doing this to begin with.”
“I told you it was a matter of honor,” Chance replied.
A sharp bark of laughter escaped Isa. “Honor. Who knew anyone still cared about that nowadays?”
Chance didn’t reply. Yes, it was true honor was an undervalued commodity according to modern human standards, but in the vampire community, it still had strong merit. Bones had asked him for a favor and Chance had promised to grant it. That meant whatever the risks, he’d take them.
Of course, since he’d spent time with Isa, he knew he’d take those same risks regardless of his sire. He felt drawn to her in ways he hadn’t felt for anyone in a long time. In order to see where it led, there were a lot worse dangers Chance would take on than a spoiled-brat mobster.
“I wanted to thank you,” Isa said at last, meeting his eyes squarely. “Guess I never have gotten around to doing that. You’re taking a huge risk, and whatever your reasons, I really appreciate it.”
He smiled. “You’re more than welcome, Isabella.”
Chance heard her heart begin to thump with an irregular, advanced rhythm. Her gaze flicked to his lips—and stayed there.
His hand was still on her arm. There was less than a foot between them. Isa shivered, but it wasn’t cold out. No, the luxuriant new scent drifting from her said she was feeling anything but cold at the moment.
Chance’s hand tightened on her arm as he moved closer. Now there wasn’t a foot between them, but mere inches. Her pulse sped up even more as he leaned down.
Right before his mouth brushed hers, however, Isa turned her head. Chance didn’t follow the movement, but let his lips caress her cheek instead. So soft and warm. It was all he could do to keep his tongue from flicking out and tasting her.
Isa gave a shaky laugh. “I must be really tired. Here I am, engaged to Robert Mini-Mob Bertini, and yet about to make out with a virtual stranger in a public place. For my next idiotic trick, maybe I’ll call Robert and dare him to kill Frazier.”
Chance’s fingers played with the skin on her arm. “Is being in a public place your only objection? Because that can be remedied.”
Another sweet wave of scent came off her even as she backed away.
“I-I have to go,” Isa stammered, not answering his question. “You’ll call me after you speak with Robert, right?”
Chance made no move to stop her. He just stared at her as she got into her car and shut the door a little too hard.
“I’ll speak to you as soon as I’m done with him, yes.”
“All right.” Isa paused, looked like she was about to say something else, then put the car in gear. Chance heard her mutter under her breath, “I must be crazy,” right as she pulled away.
He smiled to himself. No, darling, you’re not crazy. You’re just fighting your emotions—something I learned long ago will always win in the end.
Chapter 5
Isa dreamed her restaurant had turned into a breakfast diner. Frank was whipping up bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, and assorted omelets while coffee brewed from multiple pots. The smell of freshly baked bread permeated the air as Isa hurried from table to table, making sure every customer had what they needed, rotating the order of the tables for the wait staff, and checking food supplies. Meanwhile, she was so hungry. All the sights and smells from the kitchen teased her, making her stomach knot with need. Still, she didn’t stop. The responsibilities of the restaurant came first. Once the breakfast rush was over, she’d have Frank fix her a large plate, but until then, there was work to do.
“Isabella.”
She turned to see who’d called her name, but all the faces in the diner seemed to blur out of focus.
“Isabella, wake up.”
Her eyes snapped open. She was in her house. In her bed, and there was no breakfast diner, no rush of hungry customers to attend to, and no staff to oversee.
So why was it that she could still smell bacon, bread, and coffee?
“Am I going to have to come in there and wake you?” a voice she now recognized asked.
Isa stiffened, pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t still dreaming. No, she definitely felt that, and yes, once again, Chance was in her home.
Her gaze went to the window. Had he gotten in through there again? Or did he go through the front door this time, because maybe he was an expert lock-picker as well? More importantly, why wasn’t she angry? Why was she getting out of bed, smoothing her hand over her sleep-tousled hair, and wondering if she should put on something more appealing than her long cotton pajamas with their constellation pattern?
She heard a clatter of pans. “I know you’re awake. Come on out, your breakfast is getting cold.”
“Nothing comes before the bladder,” Isa muttered under her breath, surprised when she heard him laugh a moment later. He couldn’t have heard her…could he?
She walked into the kitchen five minutes later, too proud to change out of her pajamas, but conceding to brush her teeth and run a wet towel over her face. As far as her hair—well. It was hopeless, as it always was in the morning.
Chance was in the middle of her kitchen, looking far better than what was in the array of pans on her stove. He had on a light blue shirt that complimented his pale skin and deep brown hair, plus a pair of darker blue, loose-fitting jeans. His feet were bare, and Isa found herself momentarily fascinated by them. They seemed at once so completely masculine and yet so…cute.
She stopped staring at his feet to sit on one of the stools across from her counter.
“You’re a regular repeat offender with the breaking and entering, aren’t you?” she asked flippantly.
Chance grinned. “You skipped dinner last night. One would think since you owned a restaurant, you’d get around to eating, but apparently not.”
She had skipped dinner last night, but how did he know that?
“Aren’t you supposed to be spying on Robert, not me? Or better yet, breaking into his home, not mine?”
He heaped generous portions of bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns onto a plate before sliding it across to her.
“Robert’s later tonight. You’re hungry now. I’m just going down the line of priorities, darling.”
“I told you not to call me that,” Isa replied automatically, though she didn’t mean it now. Truth be told, she rather liked the caressing way he said “darling.”
And the look in his eyes when he said it was even better.
Oh, shit. She was so in trouble. Last night after almost kissing him, Isa had berated herself for hours about the stupidity of getting involved with some pseudo-magician w
hacko—albeit a smolderingly sexy one—when she still had to find her brother and get out of marrying a career criminal. Yet here she was now, getting all starry-eyed over something as benign as Chance’s feet, for crying out loud.
That was it. She was getting a vibrator. Clearly she was in need of sexual healing, and right now a battery-operated device had the least amount of complications.
The timer on her oven went off. Chance turned around with a graceful spin and then lifted out a pan of wonderful-smelling bread. Isa’s mouth watered even though she’d just taken a bite of food.
“You’d make a great chef,” she said once she’d swallowed. “Ever think of leaving the honor-bound, criminal-interrogating hypnotist society to try your hand at that?”
Chance sliced her a steaming piece of bread, an odd smile on his face. “I can never leave the society I’m part of, Isabella. Once you become a member, you stay that way forever.”
“Then I hope they have a hell of a retirement plan,” she quipped.
That made Chance grin, highlighting the dimple on his chin. “The best there is, I assure you.”
He took the stool next to Isa, but didn’t bother getting himself a plate. Isa gestured with her fork at all the food spread out in front of her.
“Are you going to eat anything?”
His lips were parted, so Isa could see his tongue flick out to caress the tops of his teeth.
“Later.”
There was something in the purr of that single word that made Isa suddenly lose her appetite. Her appetite for food, to be more specific. Another appetite reared its long-neglected head and began screeching to be satisfied.
Chance reached out, gently brushing her hair back from her face. His hand was cool against her cheek, like silk made into flesh. Isa drew in a breath, noting with curious detachment that it was uneven. Funny, the more she stared into Chance’s eyes, the more she became convinced they were turning green.
“Back away, Chance. We need to keep things professional between us.”
She made herself say it, because even if it wasn’t true, it made sense to utter those words. Chance was practically a stranger, and a peculiar one at that. So what if she was drawn to him in ways she’d never felt before? So what if he fascinated her with his unusual mix of courtliness and utter disregard for the law? Getting Frazier back safely was her top priority, period. That meant canoodling with a local crime boss who thought she was going to marry him, not making out with an out-of-town hypnotist who might get killed with his next act.
Chance leaned closer, so that the breath from his words fell directly on her lips.
“You don’t want to.”
Boy, was he right about that. Keep things professional? Hardly. All Isa wanted to do now was press her mouth against his and rake her tongue inside until she couldn’t taste anything but him.
Chance’s nostrils flared. He closed his eyes and took in a deep, slow breath.
Isa closed her eyes as well. If she tilted her head even the slightest way in either direction, his lips would brush hers. Chance was that close to her. Yet she couldn’t do it, and she instinctively knew it was what he was waiting for.
“Why are you fighting this so hard?” he whispered.
The question startled Isa into opening her eyes and sitting back, putting a safer distance between them. She ran a trembling hand through the same part of her hair Chance had smoothed away moments before.
“Because I want it too much.”
Her honesty surprised her more than his question had. Chance took in another deep breath, his eyes still closed, and then he leaned back as well. Now there were a few feet of distance between them. Isa couldn’t help but feel disappointed, even though it was her own fault.
Chance opened his eyes. They didn’t look green-tinged anymore, and somehow that made Isa realize how serious he was.
“After I get back from speaking with Robert, you and I need to talk. I’ve lived too long not to recognize what a rare thing this is between us, but there are certain things about me you need to know before we go further.”
“Are you married?” Isa asked at once, dread in her belly.
A soft snort escaped him. “No.”
“A CIA agent? Illegal alien in search of a green card? Wanted criminal?”
“Nothing like that. Stop guessing, trust me, you wouldn’t pick it at random, and as I said, I’ll tell you later. After I’ve discovered what’s going on with your brother.”
Frazier’s predicament did come first. Wasn’t that why she’d stopped him earlier, when it looked like he’d been nanoseconds from kissing her? So why was she feeling, oh, bereft now?
“I have a feeling I won’t like whatever it is you’re going to tell me.”
Chance gave her such a penetrating look, Isa wondered if mind reading was also part of his skills. It seemed like he was seeing into her fears and weighing them against whatever it was he intended to tell her.
“Either way, you will hear it. And then you’ll decide what you want to happen between us.”
If she was braver, she would have insisted on hearing it now. But Isa didn’t think she could take her uncertainty over Frazier, her fears that her grandmother would be the next person Robert used against her, and whatever tidbit Chance would reveal about himself all at the same time. At least let her have closure on one of those things, then she’d handle the bad news Chance threw her way, because Isa doubted he had something as mundane as unpaid parking tickets to tell her about.
“You’re going to Robert’s tonight?” was all she said.
Chance nodded. “And afterward, I’ll come see you with what I’ve discovered…and to talk.”
That clenching in her stomach returned, but Isa forced herself to ignore it.
“Then I guess you’d better get prepared. You have a big day ahead of you.”
He slid off the stool, moving like his body was somehow absent of bones and made entirely of coiling muscles instead.
“I’ll see you later.”
Isa hoped so. She also hoped Frazier was with him. In fact, she couldn’t remember when she’d hoped so hard for things she wasn’t taking care of herself. Leaning on another person. It was so unlike her, yet it was what she was doing now.
“I’m counting on that.”
Chapter 6
Chance watched the men below him. The Salucci brothers seemed to be pretending to be Joe Pesci in Casino. All bada-boom, bada-bings, and just looking for ways to get insulted. Robert, surprisingly enough, conducted himself with more finesse, though he also seemed to be doing a bad acting job. Any moment now, Chance was sure Robert would lower his voice to a scratchy whisper and make the Salucci brothers an offer they couldn’t refuse.
Chance had been around enough genuinely frightening people to know all this bluster and showboating for the camouflage it was. When someone was truly deadly, human or otherwise, he or she didn’t waste time trying to convince people about it. No, he or she just killed everyone around them who had a dissenting opinion. That’s why you’ll always be a bridesmaid and never a bride, Chance thought while looking at Robert. You think if you kill a few people, bribe a few cops, dress in Armani suits and have a cookie-cutter Italian wife, the real mafia will welcome you into their fold. But you’re wrong. They can smell a poser almost as well as I can smell my next dinner.
Still, at least this grandiose dick-measuring contest between the Salucci brothers and Robert afforded Chance an easier way of grabbing him. Robert had even picked the Penn station docks along the Delaware River at midnight for their powwow. The clichés were so thick, Chance was almost choking on them.
“You’re makin’ a mistake,” the older Salucci brother told Robert before he turned with a dramatic swirl of his trench coat. He stalked off, his younger brother and bodyguard in tow. They got into the black Bentley that had been running the entire time, and the driver peeled off with a squeal of tires.
“Finally,” Chance muttered. He gave Paul’s jugular a caressing glan
ce. Paul had eaten about a dozen doughnuts before this meeting, Chance knew, because the heavy smell of fried sugary goodness wafted up to him even from his light pole perch. Chance licked his lips. Mmm, dinner and dessert, all at the same time.
Chance dropped down from the tall broken streetlight. It never ceased to amaze him how some humans could be so oblivious to their environment—especially ones who prided themselves on being cunning. If Robert, Paul, or Ritchie had even once looked up, they would have noted that the south street light was significantly taller than the ones around it. They might not have been able to see what—or who—was perched on it in the darkness, but they could have realized that something was there.
Instead, they just gaped at him when he appeared behind them with nothing more than a faint rush of wind to announce him.
“Nice night, isn’t it?” Chance remarked.
Robert was the first to recover. His hand slid inside his jacket and he pulled out his gun.
“Yeah, it is. Paul, Ritchie? You gonna stand there, or are you gonna pull your pieces and maybe point them at this asshole?”
Chance watched with amusement as they scrambled to obey, replacing their formerly amazed expressions with tough ones.
“You just don’t fucking learn,” Paul breathed. “We do, though. Ritchie, pat down this joker and make sure he’s not hiding any more bulletproof vests. Or wires.”
Chance spread his arms out obligingly as Ritchie came closer. The other man was wary, no doubt remembering how Chance easily had dodged his attempts to pummel him before. Don’t worry, Chance thought coolly as Ritchie gave him several quick, thorough pats. If I wanted you dead, your blood would already be warming my stomach.
“He’s clean,” Ritchie announced.
Chance wrinkled his nose with mild distaste. “Can’t say the same about you. Really, man, soap is nothing to fear.”
Weddings From Hell Page 11
