Reckless Angel

by Maggie Shayne

  “No way to tell, although if anyone identifies Viper to the local cops in the near future, you can bet my body won’t be found for months.”

  “You know how many people that bastard’s killed, Nick?”

  Nick nodded slowly. “I know. I want him put away as badly as you do. Now that I’ve been at the actual scene of a hit, I can give sworn testimony and take Viper out of commission. But we have to let him have his head a while longer if we want to take Taranto out, too.” Nick sat a little straighter. “How’s your part in the drama coming along?”

  “I’m still just a flunky, running errands for the big boys. I did wrangle an invitation to a poker game tomorrow night at the Century. Word is there’s something big coming up. I hope I can find out what.”

  Nick frowned at the news. The Century was Lou Taranto’s nightclub—a place where most of the patrons were mob players and prostitutes. Private rooms were commonly set aside for invitation-only poker games. Every employee in the club was drop-dead loyal to the Taranto family. “I don’t like it, Joey. You’d have no backup. What if something goes wrong?”

  “What do you think I am, a rookie? I’ve been at this as long as you have. You know damn well the bureau’s got guys watching Lou’s place twenty-four hours a day, snapping cameras and taking down names. An extra plain-brown wrapper parked out front won’t raise any eyebrows. Lou’s so used to having them around he sends out sandwiches sometimes. They don’t worry him any. I had Harry assign somebody. All they know is that if they see somebody stand in the window and light a cigarette, they raid the place. Bust everyone inside, me included, on a gambling charge.”

  “But the surveillance guys won’t know there’s a Fed inside,” Nick said.

  “They don’t need to know, Nick. That’s the drill.”

  Nick shook his head. “I still don’t like it.” He saw the determination in his friend’s face and sighed. “At least you’ll have a way out.”

  “Right. Now, what are we gonna do about the girl?”

  It was just like Joey to change the subject rather than risk an argument. “I’m keeping her here,” Nick told him.

  “Not a smart move, my friend.”

  “Smarter than letting her go. The second she was spotted, Viper would kill her.”

  Joey sighed. “You’re right on that count. If he knew she was alive, a whole army couldn’t protect her from that bastard. But, God, Nick, how long can you keep her here?”

  “As long as I have to.” Nick frowned at a small noise from the bedroom. He met Joey’s glance, his eyes conveying the message. Was she up and listening? They’d kept their voices low, and Nick wasn’t concerned about his cover. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to buy some insurance. His voice only slightly louder, he added, “I just hope she’s not foolish enough to try and escape. She’d be digging her own grave.”

  Toni didn’t close her eyes after that. She couldn’t believe she’d managed to fall asleep in the first place, knowing he was just in the next room. All she had to do was think of him to feel his mouth possessing hers again—the way he’d thrust his tongue halfway down her throat. He’d enjoyed showing off his physical power over her. The truth was, she was glad he’d done it. There had been odd moments when she’d actually found herself thinking he was attractive, admiring his size and the hardness of his body. Of course, she hadn’t allowed such thoughts to linger. For all she knew, he was a killer. She knew she wouldn’t be bothered by the idea that the man was anything but repulsive from here on in. He couldn’t have done anything to turn her off more.

  She pushed all of this analysis aside and tried to guess who had been speaking to him just now. She’d been roused from sleep by a man’s deep laughter and she’d quickly pressed her ear to the door. She’d heard Joey’s question, “What are we going to do about the girl?”

  And the answer: “I’m keeping her here.”

  Nick. Joey had called her captor Nick. Then she heard both men remark on her abbreviated life expectancy should she be discovered by Viper. Was Nick telling the truth, then, when he said he’d brought her here to keep her alive? More likely to keep himself alive, she thought glumly. He would be a marked man if Viper ever learned of his little deception. Neither of them mentioned killing her. She supposed she could take that as a good sign. And the bit at the end about digging her own grave had obviously been tacked on for her benefit.

  A few minutes later there had been absolute silence. Either Nick had left her alone or he was asleep. She was too afraid to open the door to find out which was the case, so she went back to the bed, where she still lay, wide awake, in the morning.

  She knew she was a wreck when Nick flung the door open. Her eyes were sore and felt puffy. Her head ached from lack of sleep and nervous tension. All things considered, she’d had better mornings.

  He stepped into the bedroom with a flash of straight white teeth in that tanned face and a tray of food in his hands. Toni sat up, clutched the robe tighter and watched him warily. His eyes scanned her face, and his smile vanished.

  “You didn’t sleep?”

  “Did you really think I would?” She injected all the venom she could into the words.

  Instead of getting angry, he only frowned harder and put the tray down on the bedside stand. When he sat on the edge of the bed, she intended to slide right out the other side, but he gripped her wrist, his hand capturing hers with the speed of a cobra striking. “You look awful.”

  “Sorry. Being kidnapped has that effect on me.”

  “More like no sleep and nothing to eat.”

  “Who’s to blame for that?”

  “Look, I’m trying to be friendly,” he snapped. “Why don’t you lighten up? I brought you breakfast in bed. How bad can I be?”

  “I’ve already told you, I won’t eat anything you bring me.” She said it louder than she needed to, but the aromas coming from the tray were too cruel to bear.

  “Use your head, Antonia. I could think of a hundred more practical methods of killing you than poison.”

  “That makes you an expert, doesn’t it?” She averted her face to avoid the tempting scents. “Take it away.”

  “Maybe you think it’s something other than poison. Is that it?” He caught her face in his hands and turned her until she faced him. “You think I dropped a tranquilizer in there? Think I want to knock you out and have my way with you?” She felt her cheeks blazing and tried to pull free of him, but he held her still and smiled.

  “You are a bastard,” she said slowly, enunciating each syllable.

  “You may be right.” He let go of her face. “But at least I’ve figured out a way you can eat.” He pulled the tray of food nearer the edge of the stand. She couldn’t resist looking. The brown sausage links and fluffy yellow eggs pummeled her senses. Her stomach rumbled and he laughed. “What would you say to a brief truce? Just long enough to eat breakfast?”

  She glanced at him, her eyes narrow with distrust. He took a sausage and brought it to his lips, his eyes fastened to hers. He took a bite from the end. She couldn’t look away as he chewed, swallowed, licked his lips. He held the same piece of sausage to her lips. “Eat, Antonia. You’re hungry and you know it.”

  Ignoring her pride, she parted her lips and let him push the sausage between them. She took a bite. He smiled and she realized she was staring at him instead of the food. He was so different this morning, speaking softly and using good grammar rather than that horrible speech he’d used last night. His face was relaxed, not hard and scowling. His hair wasn’t wet or slicked back as it had been, but dry and thick and wavy, with a shine to it that rivaled a mink. He wore a faded pair of jeans and an ordinary T-shirt—clothes that accentuated the well-developed muscles underneath.

  He took another bite of the sausage and held the last tiny piece in his fingers. He pushed it into her mouth, and when she took it, her lips closed around his fingertips. A jolt shot through her at the sensuality of the contact, and she didn’t miss the dark intensity in his eyes.


  He looked away quickly, scooped eggs onto a slice of toast, folded it and took a bite. He handed it to her this time. He didn’t try to feed her from his hands again.

  Toni was famished, and more grateful to him than she cared to admit for thinking of a way to show her the food was safe. She shouldn’t be. It was his fault she had to be suspicious of everything he said or did. She ate everything on the tray, always careful that he tasted first. She even made him sip her coffee after she’d spooned sugar into it. He grimaced but he sipped. He drank his own black and sugarless, she noted.

  “This is much better,” he said, relaxing now and sipping his coffee. “I think we got off on the wrong foot last night, Antonia. This will work out better if you think of yourself as my guest. I promise I won’t keep you here a day longer than necessary.”

  She was shocked at his easy, almost friendly tone. “It isn’t that simple. There’s my mo—” She stopped herself.

  “Your mother,” he finished. He drew a breath and released it slowly. “I wish I could do something about it, but I can’t.”

  “She’ll be so worried.” Antonia saw the compassion in his face and pressed him. “Couldn’t I send her a note—tell her I’ve gone away—”

  He shook his head. “She’ll have you back alive. It’s the best I can do. Sorry.”

  “Not the best you can do, only the best you will do, you lousy—”

  “Nick,” he told her. “It’s Nick Manelli. Save yourself the effort of thinking up all those lovely nicknames, okay?”

  He drained his cup, stood and left the room. When he returned he carried a large green plastic trash bag. “I brought you some things to make your stay a little more bearable.” He dropped the bag in the center of the floor. “If I’ve forgotten anything, let me know and I’ll do my best to get it for you.” He stepped back into the living room and closed the door.

  Curious, Toni got up and looked inside the bag. She drew back in shock. Her own clothes lay in neatly folded stacks. Her purse rested on top. Gaping and gulping air as her rage mounted, she flung open the door and charged him.

  “You arrogant bastard! You broke into my apartment last night! You—”

  He held up one hand, flat palmed. “Ah-ah-ah, I did not break in. I had a key. It was in your purse along with the address. If you recall, you dropped it last night when I, uh, shot you. The least I could do was get some of your things for you. It was no trouble. You don’t need to thank me.”

  “Thank you! Thank you? I—”

  “You’re welcome, Antonia. I knew you’d appreciate it. Of course, I am beginning to think I shouldn’t have bothered bringing a robe. You couldn’t possibly look better in it than you do in mine.” His gaze moved heatedly down her body.

  In her fury, Toni hadn’t tightened the cord. The robe hung loose to her waist, and the inner swell of her breasts had caught his gaze. She tugged the cord tight and moved toward him. “You are the lowest, most vile, son of a—” She’d lifted her hand in preparation as she spoke, but he grabbed it in midswing.

  One ruthless tug, and she was flat against him. “Since I’ve already demonstrated what happens when you lose that hot little temper of yours, I can only conclude you want more of it.”

  Her eyes focused on his lips, and her anger began to turn to fear. “Thanks for reminding me what scum you are, Manelli. For a second there I thought you might have some crumb of decency.”

  “Never think that, Gypsy, because I don’t. Push me too far, and you’ll find that out.” His eyes blazed down into hers, and Toni waited, trying not to let the moisture spring into her eyes.

  Chapter 3

  The tears were his undoing. She didn’t let any spill over; she was too proud to do that a second time. He saw them all the same. They formed glistening pools that made her black eyes into rare and exotic gems. Something inside him came alive, and Nick dropped his arms and turned away, shoving one hand through his hair.

  “I am doing my level best to make this easy on you, lady, but if you want it rough, make no mistake, I can make it rough.” His voice was unnaturally gritty. He didn’t care. He only knew he had to get away from her right now. He blocked her view of the panel with his body as he punched the numbers in. He went through the door without looking back once and he closed it hard behind him.

  He just stood for a second on the other side. What the hell had just happened in there?

  He went back over the confrontation in his mind, trying to pinpoint the moment when the tide had turned. He’d been ready to kiss her cruelly, just to show her that she shouldn’t be trying to slap a guy his size every time she got her dander up. He’d almost done it. But when he’d had her there, crushed against him, and he’d looked down to see her storm-tossed eyes, something had slammed into him. He’d felt her heart thudding inside her and had been suddenly, acutely aware of his own, pounding right back. He’d heard her short, choppy breaths, and his own caught in his throat. Her scent wafted up, enveloping him until he was aware of nothing else—only her. If he hadn’t stepped away from her at the moment he had, he knew damn well what would have happened and he was not one bit happy about it. He would have kissed her—and not the way he’d kissed her last night.

  In his soul, he knew he’d have slipped his arms around her until he could cradle her head in his hands. He could imagine the feel of all those silken, raven curls tangling around his fingers. He’d have tasted her lips first, drawing them between his own like he might a succulent cherry. He wouldn’t have bruised them this time. He’d have worshipped them. He’d have—

  Nick groaned and forced her golden skin and wild black mane from his mind. She must’ve lied about being Puerto Rican. She truly was a Gypsy. An elusive Gypsy enchantress capable of casting powerful spells over men. At least, over him. What was he supposed to do with her for the rest of the time he had to keep her here?

  He shouldn’t be having this problem. He’d worked in close proximity to some gorgeous women in the past. He’d never had a problem. He’d always been perfectly able to take them or leave them. Never had he felt so close to losing it—as though he’d been shoved off a cliff and was scrambling for a branch to keep from falling.

  “Chemistry,” he mumbled. “Major chemistry.” He turned from the bookcase door and stalked down to the second floor and the master bedroom. Since she’d cycloned into his life, he’d had to use the bedroom often. Before, he’d only done so often enough to make it appear lived-in. He’d have to force himself to keep her out of his thoughts for the rest of the morning. Lou Taranto and Viper would be here to see him, and he’d damn well better be on his toes.

  If sending him to witness the hit had been a test of Nick’s loyalty, he’d soon find out whether he’d passed. If he’d been sent because Lou trusted him, he’d learn that, too. He grimaced as the third possibility entered his mind. If Viper or Lou had any idea that Antonia was still breathing, Nick would be a dead man in the next few minutes.

  Joey knows she’s in the apartment upstairs, he thought grimly. If anything happens, he’ll come for her.

  Still, his own particular preference was that nothing happen. He peeled his shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly as he moved into the adjoining bathroom for a shower. Despite his decision to keep her out of his thoughts, he recalled his late-night visit to her apartment as he stood beneath the pounding spray. He hadn’t learned a lot. He’d had to get in and get out as quickly as possible and do it without being seen. His reasons for taking her things had been twofold. He wanted her to have everything she needed and he couldn’t afford to be seen buying women’s clothing and toiletries in a store. That was the first reason. The second was her mother. While it was necessary that the woman act worried about her daughter’s disappearance, Nick had to give the poor woman something to cling to. With enough of Antonia’s belongings missing, she could believe her daughter had simply gone away for a few days. The sickening worry could be put off for a little longer. It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do.


  The apartment was nice, but not exactly spic and span. There had been a day-old newspaper spread on the counter that separated living room and kitchen. A stained coffee cup sat there, as well as a cereal bowl with the spoon still inside. A couple of blouses and a slip were slung over the back of the brocade sofa. Antonia wouldn’t win any housekeeping awards, he thought.

  Nick moved quickly to the bedroom to get the clothes she’d need. He found the bed made, but haphazardly. The comforter was neat, but the sheets underneath showed bumps and bulges. He took an empty suitcase from her closet but didn’t bother packing it. It was faster to drop the clothes into the trash bag he’d brought along. Taking the suitcase was just to make her impromptu vacation a little more believable. He took the book she’d been reading, too.

  He moved into the bathroom, where she’d left a damp towel slung crookedly on a rack and a pair of silk stockings hanging over the shower-curtain rod. He took her toothbrush and everything else she might conceivably need. As he left he noted a door he hadn’t seen before, probably another bedroom. It wouldn’t hurt to check, though. He tried the knob, but it didn’t give. He frowned. Why keep a spare bedroom locked? He would have pursued the matter, but the sound of the telephone split the silence like an ax splitting a melon. It bleeped again, and Antonia’s voice filled the apartment, so low and sexy it was as if she were in the room.

  “…can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

  Nick listened. Maybe he’d learn something about Antonia after all. A woman’s voice came clearly.

  “Antonia, my dear, sweet girl, if you do not call me the minute you get in I am coming over there. I loved reading about Katrina’s latest. Can’t wait to see what that vixen will be up to next.” There was a long pause. “I love you, honey. I’m worried, it isn’t like you to stay out so late.” The woman sighed. “Call me.” The line went silent, and Nick continued to stare at the machine.