Oh perfect.
Sal leaned against the railing. At least it was a pleasant night and the salt air was refreshing. He needed to keep that in mind. There were worse things in this world than being on a yacht with pretty girls and expensive booze.
Like his ex-lover coming to a family party with her new lover.
There was a man standing next to Reign. It wasn’t that he was even touching her, but he had a possessive air and occasionally leaned in close to say something—much closer than anyone would normally dare if there wasn’t a sexual relationship. Sal understood body language and in particular understood Reign.
Whoever the man was, they were definitely sleeping together.
Apparently this night wasn’t going to improve. She would never allow that much of an intrusion in her personal space if they weren’t intimate.
“I need to go change.” Carmen said it with a hint of challenge in her voice. “I put my clothes in the stateroom. Care to come … help me?”
Sal tried to switch his focus, but it wasn’t easy.
It was ridiculous that he was affronted over Reign showing up with this guy. He was going to guess it was Nick Fattelli, the man who’d shot the hit man in her bedroom, and he looked the part. Tall, muscular, well dressed, confident in how he moved, and the asshole had definitely some connections or Sal’s mother wouldn’t have invited him in the first place.…
Bastard.
“Hey?”
Sal finally swept his unfocused gaze to Carmen. She’d already untied the top of her suit and though maybe everyone couldn’t see it, he sure had a nice view of those enhanced tits. They were very tanned too, as if she sunbathed with her top off often. Nice and round and within reach—38D if he was a judge.
“Sure,” he said recklessly, because he was hurt. Whether it was warranted or not, he was disillusioned, and there was a reason “on the rebound” was a catchphrase. Seeing Reign with someone else sliced like a knife. “I’d love to help.”
“Show me the way?”
Right. Stateroom. Sure. Like it was complicated, and if she’d left her clothes there she knew just where it was, but fine. He knew an invitation when he heard one.
Below deck there were actually three small staterooms—his parents had quite a lot of money, and this was a very nice boat—and a galley, right now bustling with staff getting out the canapés for the guests. Sal led her to the one he used if they were out for longer than just a day and held the door for her. His mother had excellent taste, and it was furnished with mahogany to match the built-in bed. The bedspread was masculine with blue and yellow stripes, and there were several nautical pictures of old sailing vessels on the walls.
“I’ve always wanted to do it with you.” Carmen ran her hand over his shirt and dropped her top completely. “But you never would. We’ve known each other for how many years? I did everything to catch your attention.”
“Do it.” Yeah, that was romantic.
“When I met you, you were still in high school. In some states that’s statutory rape,” Sal said dryly, “especially if the male is seven years older.”
“I’m not sixteen now.” Her brows arched and she pressed against him, her arms coming around his neck. “I wasn’t a virgin even then. I know what I’m doing. Kiss me.”
He did. She tasted like the cosmopolitan, and her bare back was warm and smooth, her breasts pressed against his chest.… And he felt … nothing.
She didn’t have silky ebony hair and a sultry smile and green eyes.
Goddamnit, he needed to get over it, but he obviously wasn’t since he was kissing another woman, a beautiful sexy young coed, and still thinking about Reign.
This was all wrong. Not fair to her, or for that matter, to him.
Stop it now.
Gently, he disengaged himself. “Carmen, you know what, I still can’t do this. You are a gorgeous girl and I’m tempted, trust me, but I’d be using you and I don’t do that to women. I like you. We’re friends. I think we’d better leave it right there for now. I’m involved with someone else and while this wouldn’t precisely be cheating, it feels like it to me.”
He felt guilty for the anger and disappointment in her eyes, but knew it was nothing compared to how he’d feel if he had meaningless sex with her. Not that he was a saint or anything—hell no, he was going to law school so he could help out family and friends when they needed a little legal assistance and advice because their world was his world too—but he did have his own moral code.
“Do your parents realize it’s Reign Grazi?” Carmen snatched her top back off the floor of the stateroom, her voice tinged with a hint of venom. “Because I’d bet they wouldn’t be happy about it.”
Yes, Carmen was definitely smarter than he’d thought previous to this moment. Obviously she’d seen his expression when he’d spotted Reign and her date.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.…
“They don’t have to be happy,” he said quietly. “I’m a grown man and get to make my own decisions.”
That smacked of an open admission, but then again, he’d never been the one to want to keep the affair quiet in the first place.
“Affair.” He despised that word. “Involvement,” “relationship”—both were much better. However, he understood Reign was a little older than him, and she had a son to consider, and so he’d honored her request they keep it low on the radar.
Carmen said in a voice far too jaded for someone her age, “If you think that’s true, you’re just fooling yourself, Sal,” as she hooked her bathing suit top between her breasts.
“You could be right,” he responded. “I wonder about that myself all the time.”
* * *
Reign should have asked more questions.
An evening sail and drinks on the yacht of a friend?
That had sounded harmless, and she’d been persuaded to come along, only since Vince was still on Long Island, and truthfully, she didn’t go out enough.
The pertinent information omitted, though, had been that it was Sal’s family party. To say her former lover’s mother was able to be gracious under pressure was an understatement, because Reign had seen the unguarded look on the woman’s face when she realized just who Nick had brought along. But Mrs. Ariano had recovered fairly quickly and at least greeted her with cool cordiality.
In his defense, Nick was probably unaware of the tension between their families, though with him it was always hard to tell. Reign gave him a sidelong glance and guessed that maybe he knew it now, if he didn’t before. When Sal approached—and she’d known he would sooner or later the moment she realized he was also on board—with his good-looking face set, his sailing clothes a casual navy shirt that suited his blond hair and khaki shorts, Nick looked more bland that usual.
If he’d invited her just to flaunt their relationship to Sal, she’d strangle him.
“Sal,” she said neutrally.
“Reign. You look amazing, as always.” He took both her hands and kissed her. On the cheek, but it was still nice and conjured images of the nights they’d spent together.… And when his hands touched her shoulders and he squeezed a little, it evoked memories that were probably better left behind.
No.
Somehow, as he matured, Salvatore had managed to keep a modicum of idealism that she found charming, and he was very nice in bed—very nice—but their problem was he claimed he loved her.
Deal-breaker.
It wasn’t that there was no trust left in her. Sure there was. She trusted her parents. She trusted her sister, and of course she trusted her son. Otherwise, she was somewhat cautious thanks to her ex-husband.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Having a good time?” Sal wasn’t quite as good as Nick in hiding his feelings. Though she’d always been sure he’d make an excellent lawyer, since he was smart and articulate, he wasn’t exactly transparent, but close.
One of the things she really liked about him—she’d always known where she stoo
d.
Why did life have to be so difficult?
“Fattelli.” Nick offered his hand. A boat cruised by and he had to raise his voice a little to be heard over the engine.
“Nice to meet you.” Sal took his hand and they shook, but if Reign had to call it, it was more like two generals weighing the strength of their opposing armies than a friendly meeting.
If she was the prize, they could just get over it. “To sum it up, Sal and I are old friends,” Reign said after taking a sip of champagne. “But our fathers are not.”
“I guess that explains the hint of hostility in the air.” Nick was drinking scotch and the double meaning didn’t escape any of them.
“If I had known who was hosting the party, I’d have declined.” Reign turned her face to the breeze coming off the ocean. The city looked gorgeous in the distance, and light danced off the waves. It felt lovely on deck: cool and light. She could feel both men watching her hair ripple across her shoulders. “I’d appreciate it, Sal, if you’d tell your mother that. I didn’t come to make her uncomfortable.”
“We shouldn’t inherit the sins of our fathers.”
It was Nick who said, “Oh, but we do. Figuratively and literally.”
An interesting comment. She didn’t know enough about his background. Reign studied the planes and shadows of Nick’s face in the starlight. “I think that maybe you speak from experience.”
“No comment.” He turned. “I wouldn’t mind another drink. Can I get either of you anything?”
Sal said with only the slightest sardonic undertone, “I’ll take a martini straight up with a twist.”
“We have similar tastes obviously.” Nick turned to her. “Johnnie Black?”
“Thank you.”
Both of them watched him walk away, not speaking, and then Sal leaned against the rail, his body taut. “This is really awkward. I feel like I should apologize, but then again, I am not sure for what.”
“We are in the same boat.”
They both laughed then, and it was spontaneous and felt good. He’d always had a very engaging grin. “I suppose we are. Literally.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” The other boat had turned and cruised by again, someone on the deck raising his glass at them. She gave a halfhearted wave back.
“I still love you,” Sal said.
Oh shit. She didn’t need this conversation, but she’d seen him when he’d realized she was there. He’d been stricken, exposed, his reaction naked on his face.
And if only Sal didn’t have an emotional commitment to their relationship she couldn’t handle, everything might be different.
The drink could not come soon enough. “If you didn’t we’d be together.”
He caught her arm, his fingers tightening. “Reign, what the fuck is wrong with you? I love you. Explain how I am supposed to apologize for that?”
“I don’t want you to apologize and I can’t really explain it. I just need to walk away.”
“If you think that helps,” he said bitterly, looking impossibly handsome as he stood there. “Think again.”
“What about the beautiful blonde all over you?”
He looked away. “You might notice I’m here with you instead.”
Inwardly, she winced. For him. For them both. “If you think this is easy for me, think again. I … I can’t…”
“Commit. I know.” He finished the sentence for her, his smile bleak. “You know when I first saw you here, I thought—”
There was a small sound like a pop and his entire body jerked.
The bullet caught him in the shoulder. Sal looked more surprised than anything, his hand going to the small hole that appeared in his shirt like he was trying to figure out what happened. Then the second shot got him in the abdomen, making him stumble backward.
What the hell?
Just as astounded, Reign stood there in shock for one horrifying moment until she was knocked flat, her glass flying out of her hand, the wind leaving her lungs, and she felt like a little kid who lost it on the swing set at recess. Nick was the one to push her down apparently since he said fiercely in her ear, “I apologize for spilling your drink but I think we have something a little complicated going on here. Don’t—and I mean it—move.”
Then he got up and left her.
Chapter
NINE
All fucking hell had broken loose. Somewhere a woman was screaming, and the deck cleared like magic as well-dressed guests scattered.
The first thing Nick did was the logical reaction. He tried to figure out where the gunfire was coming from. He crawled along the deck, hoping Reign obeyed—for once—and peered out over the water. It made no sense to fire on a boat where you could be easily apprehended, so it must have come from a second craft.
Bingo.
The small boat was heading across the harbor fast, directly away from them. He would have opened fire back, but it was too far gone by now for any accuracy and he just wasn’t sure. Yes, he’d killed a few men in his life, but never unless he was sure.
Random drive-by boating attack? He doubted it. They’d been after Reign.
He stood, his Glock hanging at his side, and walked back, only to find Reign hadn’t exactly followed his directions and was on her knees next to Ariano. “Give me your shirt,” she said with impressive calm considering the tears streaming down her face. “Right now, Fattelli, and if you hesitate one second, I’ll just kill you and take it off of you.”
She sounded pretty sincere.
“Let’s not get bloodthirsty. The shirt is yours.” He dropped his jacket and did just what she asked, unbuttoning and handing over the object she requested. By now people were timidly emerging from different places, because gunfire was like flushing quail with this elegant crowd, which, he thought as he watched people peer around corners, was ironic.
It wasn’t like he’d never been in this position before. He bent over Ariano, who was going into shock, and he didn’t need to be a physician to see that. “The shoulder is nothing,” he said like a surgeon doing triage, but he’d seen more than his share of wounded men. “That belly shot might have hit vitals. Let’s get this boat turned around. I think the party is over now anyway.”
“You were the one invited.” Reign knelt there with her dark hair in a shining curtain, blood pooling around her knees. “The boat. Good idea. Make it happen. His mother won’t really want to talk to me, especially now if this is my fault. Besides, I’m staying with him. Go.”
Interesting that she also realized she was the target. Or maybe not that interesting, since a man was shot in her home only a few days ago.
Nick went. He tried to keep a low profile along the deck in case he was wrong about the retreating boat, racing, shirtless, finding his hostess after a few inquiries, letting her know it was her son that had been shot.
They were back at the port with impressive speed, and luckily, between Reign’s efforts and a doctor on board who was one of the guests, there was an ambulance waiting when they docked and Ariano seemed to be holding his own. Awake and lucid, he almost seemed more concerned with Reign’s distress than his injuries. Bloody and weak, he was strapped to a gurney, and Nick had to give credit to the response time of the nearest hospital.
Those swirling red lights did nothing to improve the situation, and Reign truly did look stricken.
“I’ll be fine,” Ariano promised, holding her hand, though it was a little hard to believe considering he was covered in blood and pale as a ghost. “Stop crying. You never cry.”
The victim’s mother rushed up in her expensive black cocktail dress, but the EMT ignored her and asked Reign, “Are you his wife? You’re awfully pale. If you’d care to ride along—”
Reign shook her head, standing up. “We are just very good friends.”
It was true, her pallor nearly matched his.
Ariano actually joked. “She won’t say yes.”
When the gurney was loaded into the ambulance and Reign turned to Nick
, he said evenly before she could speak, “I know. We’re going to the hospital. I’ll drive you there and stay as long as you need me.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was hushed.
“Like I’d leave you alone, especially after this particular evening.” Nick took her arm, steering her back toward where he’d parked his car in a bevy of expensive vehicles on the pier. “Come on. He’s going to be in surgery for a while; you do know that, right? Did you eat anything at all?”
Reign shook her head again. How she managed to look beautiful with smudged mascara, he didn’t know, but somehow she pulled it off. “There’s no way I could eat now, I—”
“Yes, there is. It’s a mistake to forget that a human being must eat and sleep to stay strong. We’re going to stop somewhere and talk about this, and then we’ll go to the hospital and find out how he’s doing, okay? The bottom line here is there’s nothing you can do for him until he’s out of recovery. If you can argue that point, go ahead and give it a try.”
“There’s blood on the hem of my dress.”
“No one will notice. I’ll pick someplace dark.” He pressed a button on his keychain. “If this is going to be a long night, you’re not going through it on no fuel. Stop arguing with me.”
The first hint of humor surfaced. “Does it work for anyone? Arguing with you?”
“Nope.” He opened her door. “Or at least not in their favor. Get in.”
She slid into the car and settled into the seat. Typically Reign, she rallied enough to lift her head and say, “I’m letting you get away with ordering me around.”
“Yeah, let’s talk about your independence later.”
“Here we go, arguing again.”
He actually admired her firm determination to take care of herself, but the situation, especially after the events of this evening, had him worried. Nick hated being in the dark—the convoluted way he’d been approached to take the hit on her had given him pause at the time, and now he was more confused than ever over what exactly was happening. He got in the driver’s seat and started the car, trying to make sure he didn’t look uneasy, but he was.
Playing with Fire Page 8
