“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” she asked.
“Did what?” he whispered, lifting one hand to cradle her cheek. His eyes held hers and Annie swallowed hard, trying to keep her thoughts on the problem at hand and not on Sal’s closeness.
“Ruined…my date with…with…” She blinked slowly, trying to break the thread that seemed to be drawing her closer and closer to him. She’d always been emotional, but she’d never been irrational. She needed to take a deep breath, but somehow she couldn’t find the strength, the pressure on her chest was so great. Finally, blessedly, her breath came, jostling through her rib cage. “My date with…”
“David,” Sal supplied helpfully, and she nodded.
“Yes. D-David.” Sal slowly slid his thumb across her bottom lip and Annie sucked in her breath. He was much too experienced not to recognize her response to him. Her quick intake of breath, the sudden expansion of her pupils, the simultaneous tightening of her body. Her full lips parted softly.
“Sal?” she whispered, her voice soft and raspy as she tried to make some sense of what was happening to her—to him—to them.
Sal held her in a tender embrace, his large hands gently cradling her face. Annie tried to retreat, but found her legs wouldn’t move. Her heart slammed into her rib cage as she helplessly watched his lips slowly descend toward her.
Annie opened her mouth to protest. Sal’s lips possessively claimed hers until her breath mingled with his. Reason fled as sensation after sensation stormed through her, awakening her slumbering senses.
Instinctively she slid her hands up his arms, feeling the taut strength of his muscles. She wrapped her arms around his neck, arching her body toward his, warming to his heat and seeking more. A wordless cry of desire echoed through her mind as Sal slid his hand down to her narrow waist, hauling her unsuspecting body close until she pressed against him from shoulder to knee.
Sal felt her soft, feminine curves mold gently to his masculine hardness. His mouth worked hers gently, seeking, exploring. A soft whimper escaped her parted lips as Sal’s tongue gently tapped at the seam of her mouth. Shivers of delighted awareness chased each other up and down her spine. His body was like a lightning rod of heat, drawing her close.
A voice of protest echoed dully in the back of Annie’s foggy brain, but she ignored it. She knew she shouldn’t be kissing Sal—not like this. He was a friend. Just a friend. But Annie knew that somehow, someway, this kiss, the emotions that swept over her, were not the feelings evoked by just a friend. In one split second, Sal had changed from being her best friend, to something much, much more.
Sal slid his hand from her cheek to caress her neck. He pulled her closer, wanting to melt into her warmth and softness. Annie angled her head, following the movements of Sal’s lips. Desire coiled inside her like a ribbon, causing her body to ache with forgotten need.
“Salvatore!” Mrs. Altero called from across the street, waving her hand. “There you are. Thank God. I’ve been looking all over for you.” She hurried across the street, her plump body swaying from side to side.
Sal drew back and groaned softly. Of all the times for Mrs. Altero to chase him down. His eyes met Annie’s and she stared at him in stupefied silence. Her mind was a muddled mess and Annie couldn’t seem to untangle all the thoughts and emotions racing through her.
“Annie?” he whispered, his voice so reverent it made her legs weak.
Blinking slowly, she stepped back until her legs were pressed against the black wrought-iron railing of the steps. Her breaths were quick and short, her pulse zipping frantically through her veins.
Sal looked at her in confusion, just as stunned as she at the impact of their kiss. Sal had dated a lot of women, kissed a lot of women, but none had affected him as much as Annie’s kiss.
He cocked his head and looked at her, seeing her through new eyes. She was no longer the widow of his partner, or just a good friend. She was a beautiful, desirable woman.
Annie continued to stare at Sal, confused and perplexed, knowing she wanted nothing more at the moment than to walk back into his arms and feel the warmth and comfort of his embrace—not only as a friend but as a lover. Annie sighed as a wave of guilt and confusion engulfed her. How, she wondered, had this happened?
“Salvatore! Salvatore!” Mrs. Altero hurried across the street, puffing hard. She placed a hand to her chest and took a deep breath. “Thank God.” Mrs. Altero paused and inhaled deeply again. “We’ve been looking all over for you. And you, too, Annie,” the older woman added.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make dinner tonight,” Sal said sheepishly, his eyes never leaving Annie’s. “But Annie and I—”
“No, no, no, that’s not why I was looking for you.” Mrs. Altero paused to take another deep breath. “Salvatore. It was awful. The store—the deli— Someone broke in tonight.”
Chapter Four
“What!” Sal and Annie caroled in unison.
“What do you mean, someone broke into the deli?” Sal’s voice was deadly quiet. Momentarily bewildered, Annie stared blankly at Mrs. Altero. This was ridiculous. It had to be a mistake. Who would want to break into her little deli? For what? She never kept more than fifty dollars in cash.
“It was awful, Salvatore,” Mrs. Altero wailed, wringing her plump hands together. “They broke the glass windows—and we couldn’t find you, or Annie—and—” Annie had heard enough. She bolted down the stairs, nearly trampling Mrs. Altero in the rush. Sal grabbed her arm and hung on.
“Wait, Annie,” Sal ordered, reining her in close to him. He didn’t want her going off without him, at least not until he heard the rest of this.
“But the deli,” she protested, struggling to get free.
“Let’s hear what happened first.” He dropped his arm around her shoulders, holding her in place, and Annie had no choice but to wait.
“Mrs. Altero, take a deep breath and tell me exactly what happened,” Sal ordered.
Doing as she was told, Mrs. Altero attempted to compose herself. “Salvatore, my granddaughter and I were going down to Letza’s for Italian ice. When we passed the deli I noticed something funny. The lights were on.” She turned to Annie. “I know you’re never open on Saturday nights, so we crossed the street, and that’s when I noticed—” Mrs. Altero stopped and clutched her chest. “It was awful. The window was shattered. There was glass everywhere. I was going to go in—”
“You didn’t, did you?” Sal interrupted, his voice low and commanding. Mrs. Altero shook her head.
“No, Salvatore, I remember what you always told us. I didn’t go in. No, sir.” She shook her gray head. “I came home and called the police station just like you instructed, and then I called the board-up company. I tried to find you, but…”
He patted her shoulder and smiled. “You did fine, Mrs. Altero. Just fine. Thank you.”
“Sal, please, I want to see what happened.” Annie’s voice shook and she turned to Sal with stricken eyes. This had to be a bad dream. Who would want to break into her store? For what?
“Come on, Annie.” He led her down the stairs and around the corner to the deli. Annie’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open.
“Oh, Sal.” Her hand flew to her mouth as tears filled her eyes. The plate-glass window that fronted the store was boarded up; glass still littered the sidewalk. The front door had a large gaping hole in it.
“God,” Sal whispered, tightening his arm around Annie’s shoulders. He looked down at her. “Hey, are you all right?”
Annie raised her eyes to his and his heart constricted. “Sal, who would do something like this?” she whispered in fear, trembling uncontrollably.
He shook his head and drew her closer to him. “I don’t know, honey, but I sure as hell am going to find out. Do you have your keys? I want to go in and take a look around.”
Blinking away tears, Annie searched through her evening bag and handed Sal the keys. She clutched the back of his suit jacket as he opened the door.
&n
bsp; “Oh, my God!” Annie’s hand flew to her mouth. The store had been ransacked, not a shelf or a counter had been left untouched. While she catered to the neighborhood’s needs, stocking special Italian items such as imported olive oils and tomatoes, she also carried a little bit of everything from soap to soup to laundry detergent.
Her eyes traveled slowly around the room. Every single display case and rack had been overturned. Boxes had been ripped open and dumped all over the wooden floor, cans and bottles had been smashed against the walls and left to drip sticky messes. The glass deli case had been shattered and emptied. Broken glass was spilled all over everything, spoiling all of her imported cheeses and meats. The old-fashioned cash register that sat on the waist-high counter was open and empty. The entire deli was a disaster.
“My God!” Annie whimpered, clutching Sal’s arm. “They’ve ruined me.”
“I want to call the station.” Sal stripped off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. “Don’t touch anything, Annie,” he ordered as she wandered around helplessly, sidestepping broken glass and puddles.
Numb, she walked up and down the aisles, trying to understand what had happened, and why. Who could do this, but more important, why? There was a large all-night market not two blocks away. Surely they had much more to offer than a small, neighborhood deli.
The deli had been her haven, her security, the one thing she had left after Tony died. Knowing someone had done this deliberately caused a shiver of terror to wash over her. She’d never felt so violated before.
Annie wandered around helplessly, nearly stumbling over a picture that had been hanging on the wall behind the counter. Without thinking, she bent over and picked it up. It was a picture of her, Tony and Sal that had been taken shortly before Tony died. The glass was shattered, the frame bent.
Unexpected tears filled her eyes and she clutched the photo to her heart. She felt so alone. And so frightened. How could someone do this to her?
“Annie?” Sal’s voice was gentle as he pried the picture loose from her arms and set it on the counter. “I talked to the station. They’ve already been here to dust for prints. Their guess is it was an amateur, judging from the entry. But we’ll need you to take an inventory and fill out a report as to what’s missing. Do you think you can do that?” He dropped his hands to her shoulders and looked at her intently. Her face was white as a sheet, her eyes glistening with tears.
“Sal, why?” She raised stricken eyes to his. He didn’t know who had done this, or why. But he sure as hell was going to find out. He’d only seen her look like this once, and he’d vowed then she would never look that sad, that alone, that vulnerable again. Swearing softly, he hauled her into his arms.
Great racking sobs shook Annie’s body, and she held on to Sal tightly. Stroking her hair, Sal let her cry until her tears subsided.
Sniffling, Annie drew back and took the handkerchief Sal offered, giving him a tremulous smile. What would she have done without him tonight? Or for the past two years? He was her knight in shining armor. Her eyes filled again and a soft cry escaped her. Sal quietly gathered her into his arms again. She was so grateful he was here by her side. She slid her arms around his waist and buried her face in his shirt.
“Annie?” He kept his arms around her, holding her close, enjoying the warmth and comfort of her. “Do you think you’re up to taking inventory? I’ll help.”
Nodding, Annie blinked away her tears, lifting her tearstained face to his. Looking into his eyes, she was vividly reminded of the kiss they’d shared just moments ago. His mouth had been so soft, so sweet, his arms so comforting. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She had been trying so hard not to need him, but until this moment, she’d never realized just how much she really did need him. Annie pulled out of his arms.
“I’ll have to go home and change. I can’t take inventory until I clean this place up.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what’s here or what’s missing.” She glanced around again and shivered suddenly.
“Come on,” Sal said, draping an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she murmured, knowing she wanted nothing more than for Sal to stay with her, the closer the better. At least until this sudden attack of fear subsided.
“I know I don’t have to,” Sal said gently, brushing her hair off her face. “But I want to. Don’t worry, we’ll have this place cleaned up in time for you to open in the morning. Let’s go get you changed and I’ll call my mother and aunt and tell them what happened.” Sal led her out the door. They walked back to Annie’s house, and for the first time since she’d lived in the neighborhood, for the first time in her life, Annie realized she was frightened.
“What’s wrong?” Sal asked as she inched closer to him, clutching his jacket as they walked.
“I’m scared,” she whispered, scanning the darkened street. “I never thought I’d ever say that. I’ve lived in this neighborhood my whole life, walked up and down these streets on hundreds of nights without ever being afraid, but now—” She glanced up at him. “I never thought I’d be scared,” she whispered, “but I am.”
He tightened his arm around her as she hurried up the stairs of her house and opened the door. Slamming it shut soundly behind her, Annie took a deep breath when she realized her home was safe and sound. It was an old brownstone that she’d lovingly restored after her husband’s death. Tonight it seemed even more warm and welcoming. Tonight it seemed—safe.
“I know how you feel,” Sal said quietly, his eyes pinning hers. “But I’m here, Annie. You don’t have to be afraid of anything, ever.”
His words were reassuring. But she knew Sal wouldn’t always be there for her. The thought brought a round of sadness. She thought that was what she wanted—not to be a burden to him anymore, to let him go and to lead her own life and let him lead his. But now, the prospect of not having Sal around anymore terrified her, not just because of the burglary, but for reasons far more personal. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and she couldn’t help remembering the touch and taste of Sal’s mouth on hers. She suddenly felt like crying again.
“I’d better go change,” she said hesitantly, glancing up the long oak stairway that led to her bedroom.
“Want me to come upstairs?” Sal asked, sensing her fear.
“I feel like a baby,” she confessed, trying to smile as he took her hand and led her up the stairs. “It’s just…I feel so…spooked,” she said, unable to find a better word to describe what she was feeling.
“I know, honey. But you’ll get over it, I promise.” Sal waited right outside Annie’s bedroom door while she changed, using the hall phone to call his mom and aunt to let them know what had happened.
His mother and his aunt worked for Annie part-time, and he knew if he didn’t tell them, someone from the neighborhood would, and he didn’t want them to worry. Everyone knew everything about everybody in the neighborhood. Word of the burglary would spread fast, and hopefully someone would remember something—anything—that would give him a clue as to who had done this. He surely hoped so. He couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone as badly as he wanted the people responsible for doing this to Annie.
Once changed, Annie let Sal take her back to the deli where they set about cleaning up the place. After stripping off his suit jacket, Sal rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
“I’ll start in this aisle,” Sal instructed. “You start on the next. That way we can see each other.” He smiled as Annie hesitantly let go of his hand. Despite the heat, Annie had thrown on a pair of old faded jeans and a short-sleeved sweater. She was cold, so cold, and she couldn’t stop shivering.
“Sal,” she asked after a few moments. “Why would anyone want to rob the deli? I mean, what could they possibly want?”
It was a question he’d been asking himself since they’d walked in. It didn’t make sense. From the quick appraisal he had done, he really couldn’t see anything missing. The place was wrecked, but whoever was responsib
le didn’t seem to have been interested in anything other than the cash.
“I don’t know, Annie. I just don’t know.”
“Sal, look at this.” Annie handed Sal two empty candy wrappers she’d found on the floor. “What do you make of this?”
He frowned. “A hungry burglar?” he quipped, examining the wrappers carefully. Everything indicated this was the work of amateurs. Stupid amateurs, if they’d stopped to sample the merchandise. He sifted through the debris, looking for a plastic bag to put the evidence in.
A loud rapping on the door caused Annie to scream. She bolted straight into Sal’s arms.
“Easy, Annie,” he soothed, tightening his arms around her trembling body. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “It’s only my mother and Auntie Florina.” Embarrassed, Annie pulled out of his embrace.
Sal crossed the room with Annie right on his heels. He pulled open the door and grabbed both ladies up in a bear hug. “Ma! Auntie Florina!”
Rosina and Florina were twins. Everything about them was identical, from their neatly tucked silver buns to their somber black dresses, dark cotton stockings and low-heeled, sensible shoes. Each clutched a double-handled black pocketbook as if it contained her entire life savings. The only difference between the two was Florina’s glasses—and her tongue. Florina was three minutes older and three times more vocal than her rather shy, demure twin.
“Who could do this, Salvatore?” his mother asked, surveying the deli with wide, frightened eyes.
“Punks!” Florina raged, shaking a fist in the air. “Annie, I brought you something.” Florina stepped over the debris, patting Annie’s hand reassuringly.
“You take this,” she ordered, handing Annie a baseball bat. “Anyone come into the store, you bop ’em with this. That will teach them.”
“No, Auntie Florina,” Sal admonished, banishing a smile and gingerly taking the weapon from her and leaning it against the wall. “That’s a good way for Annie to get hurt. Let us handle it.”
Italian Knights Page 5
