Dangerous Disguise

by Marie Ferrarella

  Her heart whispered something to her she was afraid to hear. Afraid because she knew it wouldn’t turn out to be true.

  She made him care. Really, really care. And that had never happened before. Had he been in his right mind, he would have been scared to death. But that was all for later. Right now, he wanted to enjoy the moment, to savor it because he instinctively knew it couldn’t possibly be like this again.

  Finally her voice returned to her and, with it, some semblance of normal breathing. “Did you say something before?”

  Self-preservation had him erasing the moment from his mind. Almost. He glided the back of his hand along her cheek. “When?”

  He was doing it to her again. Making her want him. Making her feel like some schoolgirl with her first crush. “Just now,” she said with effort. “Just before you, um—”

  They’d just made love like two wild, abandoned souls and now she sounded like some shy virgin who’d just been deflowered. Something wrapped itself around his heart and he knew he was powerless against it.

  He tried to be flippant and didn’t quite pull it off. “Maybe ‘thank you.’ I’m not sure,” he added. “I was a little out of my head.” Lying beside her, he pulled her to him, content not to move for the moment. “Did I mention that you were magnificent?”

  He could feel her smiling against his chest. Could feel the warmth that generated within his soul.

  “No.”

  “I should have. You were.” He kissed the top of her head and smiled to himself. The darkness had abated as his eyes had grown accustomed to it. He could make things out now. Thing like the door. “You realize we didn’t make it five feet into the apartment?”

  “That much?” Unable to help herself, she began to draw patterns on his chest with her fingertip. He had a light smattering of hair, just enough to tantalize her.

  “Don’t do that,” he warned quietly.

  She didn’t understand. “Why not?”

  “Because then I might do this.” Rising up on one elbow, he leaned over her. The kiss that followed had her throbbing all over again.

  “I’ll take my chances,” she said breathlessly, kissing him back and starting the dance all over again.

  Chapter 11

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

  Jared looked up in surprise as Max snarled the words in his ear, loud enough only for him to hear. The other man had whispered despite the fact that the kitchen was deserted. The rest of the kitchen staff was taking their morning break.

  “Making Hungarian goulash,” Jared answered automatically. He looked back at the dish he was preparing. It was new on the menu and, per request, he’d made a sample for Maren to taste.

  Max moved his considerable bulk in front of Jared, forcing him to stop and look at him. “Don’t get smart with me, pretty boy. I mean the other thing.”

  “Other thing?” Jared wiped his hands on his apron and gave Max his full attention. Mentally bracing himself. “What ‘other thing’?”

  Not a handsome man to begin with, Max was a shade removed from ugly when he scowled.

  “You know what I’m talking about. Cozying up to Maren.” His eyes were dark, piercing and malevolent, like those of an ogre protecting his territory. “That’s not going to get you anywhere. I’m head chef here and I’m planning on staying that way.”

  Jared sighed. The man was putting his own spin on events, seeing him as a threat. That wasn’t the way to go about an investigation.

  “I’m not after your job, Max,” he told the head chef patiently. “This isn’t All About Eve.”

  Though a good fifteen years older, Max obviously hadn’t a clue what he was talking about.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s an old movie, Max. I caught it on one of those classic channels the other night. Newbie wheedles her way into a star’s entourage. Quietly goes about weaving her way into a place of power. Winds up stabbing her mentor in the back and taking over her role.”

  Max’s expression indicated that was exactly what he thought the new assistant chef was doing. Jared slipped an arm around the man’s wide shoulders, trying to subtly convey a note of friendship.

  “First of all, I’m not a newbie. I know my way around a kitchen, have for a very long time.” The kitchen in question was his uncle’s but there was no point in mentioning that. “Second, you’re not my mentor, although I’m more than willing to learn from you. And third, I’m happy doing what I’m doing.”

  The sneer was still there. “By doing the manager?” Max asked.

  Jared removed his arm from the man’s shoulders. Something dark stirred inside of him, an anger that he rarely encountered. A steely look came into Jared’s eyes as he turned to face Max. The affable aura he’d maintained since he’d first arrived on the job vanished like vapor. “You’ve got to the count of five to apologize for that.”

  Clearly uncertain, Max tried to maintain his position. “And if I don’t?”

  Silence met Max’s question and then Jared said in a low, controlled voice that had made more than one perp’s blood run cold, “Trust me, you don’t want an answer to that question.”

  Max had fifty pounds on Jared, but self-preservation made the man realize that while the poundage he was carrying around was just weight, what Jared had on him was solid muscle.

  Amid glares, Max backed off. “Okay, I’m sorry I insulted you.”

  “Not me, Maren,” Jared told him evenly. But to a casual passer-by, there was no mistaking the threat behind the words.

  With a huff Max held his hands up, as if physically pushing away both Jared and the words that had gone between them. “Okay, okay. I just got mad, okay?” the man exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to insult her. I like Maren. She’s a decent person.” Unable to curb himself, he added, “You, I’m not so sure about yet.” Uneasy, he took another step back, his hands still raised. “But hey, all I know from is cooking.”

  Turning tail, Max quickly went to join the others who were clustered outside. He didn’t even stop to take his jacket. It was only after the man had disappeared that the smattering of applause came from behind him.

  Jared turned to see that Joe had been watching the latter part of the exchange from the alcove that led to the ground-level pantry.

  “Nice display of chivalry,” the man commented, coming forward. “Maren would have appreciated it if she’d heard you.”

  Maren wouldn’t have appreciated the nature of the exchange in the first place, Jared thought.

  “Maren would have put him in his place herself if she’d heard. I was just acting on her behalf,” Jared said, wondering what was going on in the accountant’s mind. Did Joe suspect that he was sleeping with his daughter?

  The two men looked at one another for a long moment and Jared had the impression that he was being sized up—really sized up. Far more intently than he had been the other night at Joe’s house. Was the man seeing him as a potential match for Maren? Or was there something else on Joe’s mind?

  Just when he’d made up his mind to absolve both the accountant and Maren of having any connections to this money laundering case he was trying to break, nagging doubts crept in again, setting everything on its ear.

  That was why he was good at his job, he supposed. He never ruled anything out a hundred percent until he was absolutely convinced he was making the right decision.

  Joe’s expression softened. “Good to know Maren’s got someone looking out for her.” Joe paused a moment, as if weighing what he was going to say next. “She’s not the easiest woman to get to know,” he admitted, though there was a fond albeit sad note in his voice. “I’m surprised she’s as well adjusted as she is, considering what she’s had to put up with.”

  There was just the two of them in the kitchen. Otherwise he would have never said what he said next. “You mean, about her baby dying?”

  Mild surprise registered on Joe’s face. Jared had the impression that nothing ever completely rattled the older man. But this, h
e had a hunch, had come close in its time.

  “She told you about that?”

  Jared nodded. “Yeah.”

  The mild surprise gave way to a look that was somewhat pleased. Jared wasn’t certain just how to interpret that. “She must trust you more than I thought. No one else knows about Melissa except me.”

  His tone left things unsaid. That Maren hadn’t been the only one who had taken the baby’s death hard. After all, the baby had been his grandchild in every way except blood.

  The fact that he’d been allowed into this small, intimate circle made Jared feel that much more guilty about the lies he was telling these people, necessary or not. People didn’t suffer liars well, even if it was for a noble end.

  It had been three days since he’d made love with Maren. Three days in which they’d politely acknowledged one another when their paths crossed at the restaurant, but she had for the most part kept away from him. Part of that, he knew, was caused by the fact that the manager at the other restaurant had suddenly quit, leaving the people over there in a lurch. Rather than stepping in himself, Shepherd had asked her to oversee things there as well as here.

  In a way, Jared took the forced separation as a respite. He needed time to pull himself together, time to process what had happened and to be able to weave it into the framework he was operating in. He couldn’t neutralize the effects of the event when part of his brain was continually preoccupied with thoughts of her. With fantasizing about making love with her again.

  He knew that it would be to his advantage to pretend to be involved with Maren. It could deepen his cover, make him more a part of the restaurant’s inner circle. But by the same token, the deception he was forced to weave would leave that much more of a scar on Maren once she knew who he really was and what he was really doing here.

  But “Jared Stevens” would press his advantage with Maren, he told himself. That was the persona he’d created—a Romeo.

  Not completely unlike himself, Jared thought ruefully.

  “She needs someone like you, Jared,” Joe said to him. “To make her forget about the past and live again. Twenty-seven is much too young to think that there’s nothing more to life than working.” Joe paused again, as if deciding whether or not to intrude further. “Why don’t you give her a call tonight?” he suggested with a broad smile.

  Jared decided to take it as a sign to move in that direction. For the good of the case. “Maybe I will.”

  Joe nodded, pleased. “Just don’t let her know I said so,” he added with a wink as he walked back into his office.

  The person he needed to nail down was Warren Shepherd, Jared thought that evening as he slipped into the empty office Maren shared with her father. Not an easy thing. The man moved from one restaurant to the other without any set pattern or predictability.

  A tail had been out on him, and Weissman, the policeman assigned to the job, had seen Shepherd meeting with the Mafia lieutenant, Gaspare Rosetti, at the other restaurant. The meeting wasn’t very much to go on, falling under the heading of circumstantial evidence. After all, the two had been friends since the early days of their boyhood. During the meeting, Weissman said that no amount of money had even crossed hands because Shepherd had refused to allow the other man to pay for his meal. At the end of the meal, the two had embraced and then Rosetti had gone his own way.

  It wasn’t a crime to embrace. Unless money had been slipped from one pocket to the other, Jared had suddenly thought. When he’d suggested it to Weissman, the latter had admitted that he hadn’t paid that close attention to the exchange of affectionate respect. So it was a possibility. A little sleight of hand and who knew how much “richer” Shepherd’s establishment was? Temporarily.

  If money had crossed hands, at the very least there might be an influx of investor funds showing up on books to coincide with that. But to ascertain that, he needed to get a look at Joe’s computer.

  The accountant had left to go to the other branch shortly after their exchange over Max’s less than chivalrous comments. Maren was already there. Added to that, Shepherd never showed up at this time of day. Opportunity was quietly knocking, Jared told himself. For a very short period of time.

  He had fifteen minutes to get in and out when the others went on their respective evening breaks.

  Jared never hesitated.

  Rather than turn on Joe’s computer, he decided that maybe he might be able to find something on Maren’s. The two new stoves and mashed potato machine that had just arrived yesterday had to have invoices from somewhere. He wanted to match up the prices to the information that was ultimately on Joe’s spreadsheets. Besides, at Maren’s desk he’d be facing the door, not having his back to it. No one could sneak up on him from behind.

  The moment he turned on Maren’s computer, his conscience began to give him trouble. He did his best to ignore it. Conscience was a luxury he couldn’t afford right now. Finding her password was a matter of allowing the department’s new electronic gadget to do its work.

  Five seconds later, he was in.

  Detaching the hand-held apparatus from the USB connection, he dumped it and its connector into its small black carrying case and went to work.

  Less than a minute later, he froze.

  He heard Maren’s voice coming from down the hall. She was talking to April. The other woman’s voice was impossible to miss. Maren was asking her how she felt. The salad girl had taken a couple days off when an infection had set in on her finger. But she was better now, she told Maren.

  He could testify to that. The small, plucky blonde was hitting on him again.

  As coolly as a career solider finding himself under enemy fire, Jared quickly closed down Maren’s computer.

  The soft, telltale hum peculiar to that computer had just that second died away and he was about to rise from the desk when Maren opened the door. He quickly began rifling through things. With his toe, he moved the small black case out if sight behind her trash basket.

  Maren stopped dead, staring at him. He was the last person she’d expected to find in here, especially in the dark.

  She flipped on the light switch. The fluorescent bulbs overhead came to life, casting light everywhere. It didn’t help to illuminate her. Slowly she closed the door behind her, wondering if she should leave it open. But no, Jared wasn’t dangerous. She would stake her life on that. “What are you doing here?”

  His expression was the soul of innocence as he guilelessly explained, “Looking for a piece of paper to leave you a note.”

  “A note?” She dropped her purse on her desk and looked at him. “Why didn’t you just call me on my cell?” She knew he had the number since he’d used it to keep himself from turning into an ice pop.

  “Note writing’s a lost art, don’t you think?” Putting down the pen he’d just snatched up on her entrance, he leaned over to kiss her. Maren pulled back. He looked at her for a moment, unable to read what was going on in her mind. “Part of the note was going to be about that.”

  Starting to say something, she stopped and cocked her head. He’s managed to catch her off guard. Again. “About what?”

  “About avoiding me.” When he moved into her space, he was gratified that she didn’t immediately back away. That came after a second’s thought. But it did come. He shook his head. “I thought we had a breakthrough the other night.”

  She was desperately trying to separate herself from the events of the other night. To put distance between herself and the feelings that kept threatening to jump up at her like some jack-in-the-box whose lid was poorly secured.

  “We slept together. That’s not a breakthrough.”

  “It is in some books and I’d hardly call what we did sleeping.” The wicked grin abated and softened. “Joe likes me.”

  Maren waved that off. She placed her hand on the monitor as she talked. It felt mildly warm, the way it did when it was in the process of being turned on. Was it malfunctioning?

  “Joe likes everyone.” And then sh
e paused as his words replayed themselves in her head. “Why, did he say something to you?”

  He was doing his best to distract her. But telling himself he was just playing a part no longer carried any weight. He knew he was getting hopelessly tangled up in the woman he was lying to. “He thought I might be good for you, get you to forget about work for a while.”

  Maren sighed, weary on all fronts. These last few days had been hard on her, juggling two positions and one set of emotions that had gone amuck. “I’ve got twice as much work to forget about now.”

  He lent her a sympathetic ear. “No luck finding a new manager for the other branch?”

  She shook her head. But the matter was far more complicated that just finding a replacement for the idiot who had abruptly left.

  “The whole structure over there needs to be revamped.” For a second she hesitated, as if telling tales out of school. But then, she’d never really felt any allegiance to the man who had hired both Papa Joe and her. As far as she was concerned, in both cases he’d gotten far more than he was paying for. She often thought the man took advantage of Joe.

  “Shepherd put in someone from his family there, a nephew who thought the place could run itself. It couldn’t. Added to that, the nephew was skimming off the top. There’s a cash flow problem now.”

  “Where is this nephew now?” he asked casually.

  “Nobody knows. He’s just disappeared with the money, we assume. Shepherd’s fit to be tied. I’ve never seen him this upset before.”

  Jared could well imagine. If his nephew was skimming from the top somehow, there was no doubt that the man’s disappearance could be traced to a sudden fondness for sleeping with fish. No wonder Shepherd was nervous, especially if he’d brought the man in to begin with.

  “He says Rineholdt is lining up another investor to help out,” she said.

  “Ah, the mysterious Rineholdt.” He was seriously beginning to think Rineholdt was an alias for Rosetti. It made sense. “Any chance of ever meeting him?”