“Nice to know. You just fall into bed with every guy you meet? Because I bet most of them ask.”
That ticked her off. “Of course I don’t. Stop being an asshole.”
“Ah, see, now we’re on the same page.” He didn’t think that at all, but anger was better than her pensive expression when she’d left her father. He got it in spades, because to tell the truth, he’d rather have visited his father in prison than get the news he was dead, but he doubted it was easy.
She glared at him, and he had to admit that accusatory flare in her eyes was arousing.
Reign didn’t do anything halfway. “Is that what you think?”
A dog ran across the road, and he swerved and wondered what the hell a dog was doing loose in this neighborhood. “Could we skip this argument?” he suggested. “I like you and I think you like me back.… We’re all on the same page.”
“Until you just suggested I was a slut.”
“Lord, Reign, you know I did no such thing.”
She was quiet for a few minutes, looking out over the sun setting across the Hudson River. Then she sighed. “You know the very worst part about sleeping with a guy?”
Nick had to choke down a laugh, but he was relieved her tone had calmed. “I can say with some authority that, no, I don’t. Never slept with one. In case you haven’t noticed, I like women.”
She had the grace to grin. “Okay, maybe I phrased it wrong, but the trouble comes from the immediate sense of possession. Why is it not possible for a man to feel you are special and therefore different? I’d love to know what the fuck the problem is. You all do your best to get us into bed, and then you’re outraged when we agree. Oh, you like it at the time, but once the blood returns to your brain, you start wondering if it wasn’t such a big deal.”
“Was it?”
The river was quiet except for a water authority boat cruising by and one lone tanker.
“Yes,” she replied, staring out the window. “It was a big deal, Nicky. But I’m going to tell you here and now, I don’t deal well with issues of trust. Not on either side. I need to trust you, and you need to trust me, or it just doesn’t work.”
She looked … vulnerable. Very beautiful with her slender neck and remote profile and sleek dark hair, but also like someone he wanted to protect. It was taking him out of his comfort zone, and maybe he was not reacting in the right way, but surely he was allowed to have feelings as well.
It took him a minute but he admitted, “It was kind of a big deal for me too.”
Chapter
SIXTEEN
She’d been right about the pasta.
As delicious as she remembered.
Driving back from dinner, he passed a taxi with easy expertise. Negotiating traffic in New York was definitely an acquired skill and took some fortitude.
“That was a nice dinner.”
Reign agreed.
“I’m sorry we had the misunderstanding.”
It was said in an emotionless tone, but she was starting to realize that Nick used that fairly ordinary tone often to disguise any semblance of deeper feeling, and maybe it was just as well. She was far too involved already with such an enigmatic man.
In her opinion, that he was approached to kill her and that was a catalyst to their relationship was not just a misunderstanding, but the conciliatory attempt was noted. She had the sense that he did not apologize easily.
To lighten the mood, she recounted her story of visiting the hospital. “At first, when the nurse told me his doctor was interested in Sal, I just thought it was kind of funny. Not because he isn’t good-looking and smart, but because the nurse was having so much fun with it. Then I saw them together.… I think it is possible.”
“Less competition for me.”
“Hmm, he was never competition and don’t flatter yourself either, because Sal and I split long before you—”
“We’re being followed.”
The terse interruption stopped her mid-sentence. “What?”
“Oh yeah.” Nick switched lanes and glanced back in the rearview mirror. “Son of a bitch,” he swore softly. “And he’s good too. I can usually spot a tail pretty easily.”
Reign had to admit her stomach tightened. “So what are you going to do?”
“If you weren’t with me, I’d lead him somewhere isolated and if he had the guts to follow once he realized what I was doing, and I think this one might, we’d have ourselves a little conversation. But you are with me, so I think instead I am going to go visit a friend of mine.”
“Who?”
“He might be able to help me out with this small problem, and luckily, he doesn’t live too far away.”
Obviously “who” was not going to be offered up and she didn’t ask again. “All right. Can I do something?”
“Sit tight and hold on. I’d try and lose this guy, but you know, it would be much more satisfying to have him stick with me.”
She put her hand on the side of the door as he whipped around a curve. “I’m just going to trust you.”
Reign already had in many ways.
“Stay low, got it?”
“I’m not all that new to this game, Fattelli.”
“A game like this?” The car accelerated and so did her pulse.
“Being followed? No, but don’t sell me short. I meant I’ve tried to stay off the radar my entire life.”
“Fuck.” His gaze was fastened on the traffic but kept swiftly changing to the rearview mirror. “Sell you short? That I would never do. I’m going to press a number on my phone. Could you please tell the person who answers we are on our way? Just say my name.”
She did it. The person who picked up was not full of surprise, and she hadn’t heard an Irish accent that thick in quite some time. He asked one quick question once she identified herself as being with Nick Fattelli.
“Make and model of the car behind you?”
Nick said to her, “Black Buick and it’s pretty new. Tell him we’ll be at his place in ten minutes.”
She did and signed off. Lights flashed by. “Who was that?”
“Pat.”
“Pat who?”
“We aren’t going to go into details.” Nick didn’t precisely run a light but he first slowed and then sped through it as if at the last minute he decided he had time, and murmured, “If they find us at his place, we are going to know a few things.”
* * *
Patrick Stevens was not Italian, but hey, no one was perfect. He was a thickset older man that might remind a person of someone who could dig ditches or toss trash into a truck, but he was the single quickest mind when it came to surveillance that Nick had ever met, and absolutely ruthless. He answered the door to his brownstone wearing jeans so faded they were almost white and a Jets jersey.
“What do we have?”
“Not quite sure. Catch the tail as it swings by?”
“Done.” Pat stared at Reign as Nick practically dragged her inside. Well, she was worth staring at, especially in a little red number that resembled a cocktail dress but was a bit skimpy on the skirt length. His friend said, “I think I can guess why. I’d follow her too.”
“Someone has tried to kill her twice.”
“Now that would be a damn shame. I am usually partial to blondes but a little variety never hurt anyone.”
Nick said smoothly, “I couldn’t agree more. Run the plate when the car comes by, okay? He was behind us, but he’ll circle back around the block, I promise you.”
“You’re the expert on that. Sure. But we should hurry.”
Reign, Nick had to admit, looked a little flabbergasted by the interior of Pat’s house. It really consisted of walls of televisions and monitors and audio equipment. If she had a clue as to the arsenal in the basement, even coming from her background, she might faint.
Well, no, maybe not. Reign would never faint. She didn’t even comment on the mess in the living room, which consisted of dirty plates, empty beer cans, and stacks of DVDs. Pat ha
d some reclusive habits.
“Not a lot of Bentleys in this neighborhood, so he’ll spot yours.…” Pat studied a wall of screens and pointed. “Okay, this your guy? He’s driving a little slow past your vehicle now.”
Sure enough, that same black car.…
“Fuck yes, that’s him.”
“I’ll photograph the plate.” Pat pushed a button. “Done. If someone far … I mean, sneezes on this street, I know about it.”
“How fast can you run it?”
“About a minute. I’m linked into the state database.”
“Do they know that?”
“You know better than to ask questions like that, Fattelli.” The screen flashed. “Here’s the registration. Rental. Must be pros. How good were they?”
“I noticed them.” Nick didn’t like it. At all.
“Yeah, but you’re good too, Fattelli. Give me a scale so I can place them.” Pat swiveled his chair and picked up a glass of iced tea. “Like how soon would the average person have noticed?”
“Maybe never,” he admitted, a little cold inside. Reign stood next to him and he slipped an arm around her waist. “That good. What the hell is up?”
“I’m going to guess from the make of the car and the skill of the driver, there’s some money behind it.” Pat hit a few more keys. “I might be able to get the names but I doubt they are real enough to mean anything.”
It wasn’t like anything Nick hadn’t already guessed. So his beautiful evening had just turned to shit.…
“Can you check my car?”
“For a signal? Sure.”
Reign leaned her head on Nick’s shoulder. It was hardly a characteristic gesture, and he tightened his hold protectively.
“Okay,” Pat said in triumph, grinning. “We do have a passenger. Your fancy British import has a device attached somewhere. I don’t touch foreign cars so you’ll have to find it yourself.”
And he’d thought it was Reign’s phone. Nick did a regroup. That was a serious mistake on his part.
“They tagged my car with a GPS? By the way, I’m not sure the Brits pass as imports.”
Pat looked pained. “Looks like it’s about the GPS, and we went our separate ways a couple of centuries ago. Can you ever remember I’m Irish? My mother was an O’Brien from Northern Ireland. It’s Saturday-night entertainment to us to blow up highbrow Brit cars like yours.”
Following Pat’s train of thought wasn’t particularly simple. Nick said, “Fine, I won’t make you touch a British car if you hold a grudge.”
“Oh yeah, a Sicilian wouldn’t know about that. Have you ever heard of a vendetta? I kind of think you people invented that.”
“Heard of it once or twice, now that you mention it. Thanks, by the way.”
“Rear bumper would be my guess, or the inside of one of the tire wells. If you’d like to just leave the lady here, I’ll take care of her—”
“Helpful. And no, she stays with me. I don’t want to lose her to all that Irish charm.”
“There is a true danger there.” Pat grinned and took Reign’s hand, kissed it, and said in an exaggerated brogue, “It’s been a pleasure, lassie.”
“Nice to meet you, Pat.”
“Watch it.” Nick turned in the doorway. “I’m going to toss it when I find it, so they might come looking for us here.”
Pat shrugged. “Biggest mistake they ever made if that is how it goes.”
Once they were back outside, Nick slipped out a small flashlight he always carried from his pocket and opened the passenger door for Reign. “Get in while I try to solve our little problem.”
He found it fairly easily on the left-hand tire well, the tiny light making it not that difficult if a person was at all suspicious, and God knew he was suspicious as hell now. He slid into the driver’s seat and took great pleasure in tossing the device out the window when they pulled away.
“Hopefully it will get stuck in the tire of a police cruiser and lead them to the nearest precinct.” Nick was still wary, driving slowly, since it was getting late and it was a quiet neighborhood. He didn’t think they’d risk anything where there could be witnesses. It was hard to tell, but if they were waiting to make a move, hopefully they’d think they were still inside the house, relying on the tracking device.
Once they turned randomly onto a different street, he breathed a little easier. “You know, before this little incident, I was kind of thinking this might be Ariano’s problem instead of yours.”
Reign turned to stare at him. “Sal? Why?”
He shrugged. “Think about it. You were involved with him before me. It makes sense that if a man was in your bedroom, Ariano would be the one there. Let’s also keep in mind that he was the one shot twice on his parents’ yacht.”
Nick took three more turns in rapid succession and then turned on his own GPS to get them back to the street they needed.
No comment on that theory. At least not at first. Finally, as they pulled out into traffic she said, “I suppose it is possible. His father has enemies, but I think everyone I know does anyway. I can’t think why anyone else would want to hurt someone like Sal.”
“He’s going to be a lawyer, for Christ’s sake, Reign. If someone is responsible for putting me away, I am going to hate his guts.”
“He isn’t a lawyer quite yet though, and it isn’t like he’s going to be a prosecutor or anything. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it, if he chose that path, but he won’t.” Her tone was dry. “But my point is, I don’t see it as a viable theory. Sal is at school every day with a predictable schedule. Look at your friend Pat. He could find out when Sal’s classes were, and where, with no trouble. Two seconds max.”
“I’m not sure I would classify Pat as a friend. Let’s leave it as interesting and useful acquaintance, can we?”
But maybe she was right. He consciously loosened his jaw.
He just didn’t want the target to be her. These people, whoever they were, seemed to be trying fairly hard to pull this off.
Over his dead body.
Reign reached over and lightly touched his knee and echoed that thought. “I’m just wondering, could it be you they are after?”
Chapter
SEVENTEEN
The hotel was downtown in the middle of a chic neighborhood, the towering structure studded with lights, and the doorman was probably dressed more impeccably than most of the guests as he came to open the car door for Reign. “Checking in?”
She stepped out, assaulted by the city, a mixture of exhaust and the noise of the traffic, and of course, the almost overwhelming array of fashionable buildings.
The hotel in particular was an icon in the history of New York, and even America in general.
Nick nodded and discreetly handed him a bill. “If you’ll take care of the car please. No porter necessary. We have no luggage.”
“No problem, sir.” The man looked absolutely bland and accepted the keys to the Bentley.
As Nick took Reign’s arm, she murmured, “Uhm, that whole no-luggage thing is kind of a problem.” Then she added, “Nice choice. I’ve never stayed here. Have you?”
He escorted her into the brilliantly lit lobby without answering the question. It was the epitome of understated good taste, with scattered seating areas and plants with glossy perfect leaves. The paintings on the walls and the sculptures were undoubtedly museum quality.
If money had a smell, this was the scent in the air.
“If you’re worried about what you’ll wear to bed, the answer is nothing, so it all seems good to me on the luggage issue.” Nick glanced around and then urged her toward the very discreet desk to check in.
“Very funny.”
“Oh, I’m dead serious about that. But I need some time to think in a place where I’m not worried we’ll be found.”
“I get that. But I at least need a toothbrush.”
“I’m pretty sure you can get anything you want here just by asking.”
“What if they can trace
your credit card?” Reign looked outwardly composed but he could tell she was at least a bit shaken.
He said ironically, “You think I don’t have that covered?”
“Oh.”
Pat wasn’t the only one interested in how she looked in her red dress, he noticed as he gave the front desk his information—not any of it attached to the name Fattelli. Luckily, they were able to get a suite on a high floor, and while the evening hadn’t exactly worked out as he’d thought it would, the ending would hopefully be just as enjoyable as the beginning had been.
He’d very much liked sitting across from Reign at the table at the restaurant, watching the light play off the planes of her face, shadowing her eyes, but it seemed like each time they went anywhere disaster lurked, and now she’d brought up a pretty valid point.
On the whole, he probably had more enemies than she did.
Blaming it on her famous family name didn’t work either.
He was starting to think she could be right. Maybe he was the target.
It might make sense. He was the first one shot at in her bedroom. At the time, he’d thought maybe it was because taking the male out of the equation first was advisable, but now he wondered. He’d also been standing next to her before Ariano took his place, and from the water, the visibility might have been a little dicey. Maybe they had thought the tall man with her was him.
Tonight, it was definitely his car that was tagged, which was why they were at a hotel instead of his apartment.
It was entirely possible that he’d been sucked in because someone wanted him there. The whole offer to kill Reign might have been just to position him into place so he could be removed from the picture.
He was starting to think it was the way the game was slated to be played, but he had not been given the opportunity to suit up.
They took the elevator to the eleventh floor and the hallway was quiet and cool. He took the key card, swiped the door, and let Reign inside. “Let me order up some champagne and a couple of glasses.”
“Mind telling me what we’re celebrating?” She turned around and put her hands on her hips.
There was no doubt she looked gorgeous when irritated.
Playing with Fire Page 14
