Her eyes flew wide. She yanked the covers to her chin and moved as far from him as possible. “What do you want?”
Nick shrugged innocently. “You called me, Antonia. I thought something was wrong.” He watched her face, making no move to get off the bed. “Was it a dream?”
Her eyes were huge and darker than midnight as she searched her memory. Deep color flooded her face. “No!” She shook her head fast, so her hair flew. “I mean, not a dream. A—a nightmare.”
He frowned. “That’s funny. You were smiling when I came in. Looked as if you were about to start purring.” He tried to sound genuinely concerned. “What was this…nightmare about?”
She shook her head once more. “I don’t know. I really don’t remember.” She said it quickly, not even bothering to try.
“That’s the thing about dreams. They’re so vivid and then they’re gone.” He touched her chin with the tip of his forefinger. “The real thing, Antonia, you’d never forget.”
He got up, chuckling, and strolled out of the room. He could feel the daggers she was shooting at his back before he closed the door. As soon as he finished grinning, he asked himself why it gave him such an absurdly huge sense of satisfaction to know that he wasn’t the only one having impure thoughts. It certainly wouldn’t make things any easier. He couldn’t just hop into bed with her and go on about his business.
Why the hell not?
The question stopped him cold. Why not? He’d done it before. What was so different about her?
Dumb question. Everything about Antonia was different. So damn small, she seemed fragile as crystal, and so damn intrepid she was always on the brink of disaster. She was a giant in a tiny body. She was a Gypsy sorceress, dancing through his mind but always just out of reach. Her eyes were black quicksand. A man could disappear in those eyes and never find his way out.
He paced for a while, then reclined on the couch knowing full well he’d never close his eyes. How could he, when he knew she was just in the next room, as wide-awake and restless as he was? He shook his head, trying not to think about a sure cure for both of them.
It was a relief when Joey showed up later. Nick reached for the remote, checked to be sure Joey was alone and let him in. The smaller man was flushed right down to the bald spot in the middle of his head. Nick had to keep reminding him to keep his voice down.
“Okay, Nick, okay. But this is hot. It’s going down tomorrow night and I’m in. I can’t let it go. Not this time.”
Nick took his friend’s arm and urged him into the kitchen, as far from the bedroom as possible. “Now slow down. What is happening tomorrow night?”
“Cocaine. A big shipment of it, coming into Taranto’s warehouse sometime after 9:00 p.m. Four guys have to be there to unload and I’m one of ‘em.”
Nick schooled his face into an emotionless mask. It had been cocaine that had killed Danny, cocaine imported by Lou Taranto. “So?”
“Come on, Nick, you know what I’m saying. That stuff will hit the streets in a matter of days, if not hours. Lou has a crew waiting to cut it up, and we both know they’ll be selling it by the gram in no time. I can’t let that go.” He shook his head and ran one hand over it, front to back. “We have to look the other way all the time when we’re under. I can’t do it this time.”
“It’s your tip, Joey. Call it. We’ll play it your way.”
Joey looked at Nick for a long moment, his blue eyes thoughtful. “If we let the stuff get inside the warehouse, we might as well forget it. The place is like Fort Knox. A lot of cops would go down in a raid.”
Nick nodded. “True enough. So what do you want to do?” Nick thought he already knew the answer, and he knew he wasn’t going to like it. Allowing Fat Lou’s poison to hit the streets was unacceptable…but so was losing his best friend. His only friend.
“I’m dropping an anonymous tip to the local cops. Letting them know when the truck is due in and what it’s hauling. They’ll probably be there waiting.”
Nick expelled his breath in a rush. “They’ll be there, all right, they’ll be loaded for bear. There’s no way you can tip them that there’s a Fed with the suspects. You’ll probably end up getting your head blown off.”
“Forewarned and all that crap, pal. I knew the risks when I signed on. Besides, better I buy it than some kid who ought to know better than to try that garbage but doesn’t. Some kid like Danny.” He paused to let that sink in. “I figure this way I give the cops a pretty fair chance, with only four guys and the driver shooting back at them.”
“Five guys and the driver,” Nick said softly.
Toni leaned closer to the door. She had to strain to make out what they were saying because they spoke so softly. They must be in the kitchen. She recognized Joey’s voice, but so far, hadn’t understood half of what they’d said. She opened the door a crack.
“Oh, that’s brilliant, Nick. You come along, that way we can both get shot full of holes.”
Nick’s eyes looked like Toni had never seen them. Possessed or something. “How long’s it been, Joseph? Hmm?” He was almost whispering. “What, twenty years now? You remember when you lost Gina and crawled into a bottle headfirst? It took some doing, but I snapped you out of it.”
Joey sniffed. “Smashed every damn bottle I had and wouldn’t let me out of your sight for a week.”
“Even further back than that,” Nick went on, and his voice was gritty. “The night Danny OD’ed. I lost it. I wanted blood and I was ready to get it with my bare hands. If you’d let me go that night, I’d never have come back alive. You remember? You had to sit on me to keep me from going after the Cobras alone. You ended up with a black eye by morning—”
“Hold on, Nick. The way I remember it, you weren’t too pretty the next day, either.”
“Hell, I had twenty pounds on you even then, Salducci.”
“Yeah, but I had ten years on you, you muscle-bound punk.”
Toni edged nearer and peered through the door. Nick moved and put one hand on Joey’s arm. “You stuck by me, Joey. You’re the only one who did. It’s gonna hit the fan tomorrow night, and I’m damn well gonna be there to tell you when to duck.”
“More like I’m gonna be there to carry your oversize butt home when it’s over.” Joey stepped more clearly into Toni’s range of vision. He was at least four inches shorter than Nick and sported some excess flesh that wouldn’t dare attach itself to Nick’s body. His face was shadowed with beard, and his black hair grew in a horseshoe pattern around a bald center. When he looked at Nick again, she saw the resignation in his face.
“You think you can manage it? I mean, you can’t just show up—”
Nick held up a hand. “If I work this right, it’ll be Lou’s idea to send me along.” He slapped Joey’s back. “Get yourself a vest, GI Joe.”
“I’ll just borrow one from you. That way I’ll be covered clear to my knees.”
Toni closed the door soundlessly when they returned to the living room. She crept back to bed in case Nick should check. She’d heard only a minute’s worth of their conversation, but it was enough. More than enough. Nick had lost a brother to drugs. He couldn’t possibly be working for the biggest importer of narcotics in the state. It just wasn’t possible. He had to be one of the good guys.
She’d heard enough to know that there was a tight bond between the two men, and more than she wanted to know about what was going on tomorrow night. They were going to walk into a situation that could get them both killed.
She spent the remainder of the night awake, turning their words over and over in her mind.
In the morning, when she rose and showered and dressed, it wouldn’t leave her alone. The image of bullets flying toward Nick—toward both of them—haunted her constantly.
He wasn’t there when she walked into the living room. Did the man ever sleep? She dragged herself into the kitchen for some coffee, following the rich aroma that had reached her the second she’d opened the bedroom door. It smelled great, b
ut the way her stomach was churning, she wondered if she could even handle a single cup. She filled a heavy stoneware mug despite her doubts and held it with both hands as she paced the room.
She shouldn’t be wondering where Nick had gone this morning. She shouldn’t worry that he was already embroiled in a late-late-show-style gunfight. She swallowed. She shouldn’t be worried but she was. She took the remote and checked the mansion, but she’d already known she wouldn’t find him. She felt the sense of emptiness that pervaded the place with his absence.
God, what if he’d already gone on this suicide mission of his?
No. She’d heard them say that whatever was happening would happen tonight.
But would he return before all of that? Was he somewhere right now, preparing for it? Would he go directly to that hell of crisscrossing bullets?
She stood still, closed her eyes and took a bracing gulp of hot coffee, then grimaced. She hadn’t put sugar in it.
“Enough, already.” She moved purposefully to the counter and spooned sugar into her mug, then stirred. She vowed to keep from imagining all sorts of melodramatic nonsense and decided to distract herself by writing.
An hour later the coffee was stone-cold and her mind was nowhere near Katrina Chekov’s world. Her efforts ended when she tore a sheet from the notebook, crumpled it into a tight ball and threw it across the room. The pencil followed, as soon as she’d snapped it in half. The entire notebook sailed through the air a moment later to join its companions in a corner. Toni got to her feet and paced the room. The confinement made her claustrophobic. The knowledge that the door was sealed and that the only person who knew how to open it might get himself killed before he came back here to let her out had her chewing her nails. Sitting here doing nothing, while he might be out there getting shot at, had her crazy.
She stopped pacing when her agitated gait took her right up to the door. Her gaze fixed on the numbered panel beside it, and a new thought made itself heard above all the others.
The panel had ten numbered squares. She was fairly certain it took three to open the door. But which three? Did it matter? She’d have to hit on it eventually.
She began with 1-1-1.
Nick had phoned Lou at the crack of dawn and arranged to meet with him at a truck stop off I-95. Always on time, Lou was waiting in a booth near the back of the place when Nick arrived.
He stood, clapped a hand to Nick’s shoulder and waved him to the padded bench seat. Lou let his gaze sweep the place when they were both sitting, and Nick followed suit. There was a long counter facing the doors, and a line of stools with deep red upholstered seats. An old-fashioned cash register sat on one end of the counter, and a man who looked as if he ought to be in a boxing ring moved back and forth behind it. Booths like the one they were in lined the other three walls. The open floor was a maze of stackable shelving, all of it cluttered with snack foods, magazines and toiletries. The air was thick with the smell of hot grease.
“Nice place you picked, Nicky.” Lou couldn’t keep the worry from his voice. “What’s wrong? Why’d you call so early?”
Nick sighed and tried to look tormented. He glanced at the waitress, whose parents had done a disservice by not getting her braces when she was young. She hurried toward them, pulling a pad from her apron pocket and a pen from her nest of limp brown hair. “Coffee,” Nick told her. “You want some breakfast, Lou? It’s on me.”
Lou shook his head once. “I’m on a tight schedule.”
“Just coffee, then,” Nick told the girl. “Bring the pot.”
She nodded, replaced the pad and was back in less than a minute with a bubble-shaped carafe. She turned over both their cups, filled them and disappeared again, seeming to sense that the two men did not want to be bothered.
Lou sipped and waited. Nick cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about what Vi—” He broke off, glancing around the place with feigned nervousness. “What our friend had to say the other day.”
“He said a lot of things. He talks too much, that one.”
“About the vote,” Nick clarified. “I’m afraid he might’ve been right. I’m not proven.”
“You took the broad out, Nicky. That’s proof enough for me.”
“You only have one vote.”
Nick watched Lou’s expression gradually go grim. Finally the fat man nodded, causing his flabby jowls to sway slightly. “Truth is, Nicky, they aren’t sure about you yet. It might not go the way I wanted it to. But I’ll keep backing you. Sooner or later—”
“I don’t want it sooner or later, I want it now!” Nick made a show of forcing his temper back down. “Look, can’t you set me up with something, give me some kind of assignment that would show my loyalty?”
Lou frowned and squeezed his chin in one hand. “There’s nothing big enough going on—”
“Then it’s hopeless.” Nick leaned back hard and stared into his coffee cup.
Lou released his chin and drummed his fingers on the table. “There is a shipment coming in tonight. It isn’t a big enough deal to earn you much clout—then again, it can’t hurt.”
Nick brought his head up fast. “I’ll take anything you can give me, Lou. I want this so bad I can taste it.”
He tried not to grin as Lou began to tell him about the cocaine that would arrive by truck at his warehouse that night.
He whistled as he drove back to the mansion good old Uncle Sam had provided for him. This thing was going smoother than he’d hoped.
Toni was all the way up to the possible combinations beginning with 3 before she realized she’d made a big mistake. 3-1-1 had no effect on the security system. When she tried 3-1-2, a bell started ringing—a high-pitched jangling that refused to stop stabbed at her ears and pierced her brain. The red lights beside the numbered panel flashed at her like scolding eyes.
She jumped back, barely suppressing a yelp when the door flew open and Nick’s broad frame filled her vision. His face taut with anger, he stepped inside, slammed the door and rapidly punched a series of numbers on the panel. The alarm died at once, leaving a leaden silence in its place.
“What kind of asinine stunt was that?” He didn’t raise his voice, but each clipped word made his displeasure perfectly clear.
She was so relieved to see him back in one piece that his ill humor didn’t faze her. She turned her back to him so he wouldn’t see it in her face. She still attempted to convince herself that her gnawing worry had been for her own sake, not his. If something happened to Nick, she’d be imprisoned here indefinitely. She hadn’t truly cared that he might get shot—or killed. She wouldn’t allow herself to care. She was not yet sure who the true Nick Manelli was.
“Well?”
She pressed her fingertips to her temples and closed her eyes. “I…had to try.”
“Why, for God’s sake? Antonia, you are safe here. You wouldn’t be out there. I thought you understood that.”
She turned to face him, feeling a bristle of anger that chased away her limp relief. “You can’t expect me to sit here, docile as a lamb, while life-and-death decisions are being made for me by a man I’m not even sure I can trust!”
His brows came together. “Not sure you can trust me? Isn’t that a major change in attitude? I thought you had me pegged as the next Hitler.”
She averted her gaze and shrugged.
“As for sitting here, docile as a lamb, that’s the last thing I expect from you, lady. ‘Docile’ is not an adjective I’d use to describe you. But you are here and you are going to stay so you might as well resign yourself to the fact. This place is buttoned up tighter than a spinster’s corset. You’re here until I say otherwise.”
To Toni’s ears it was a challenge. “Is that so? Well, I guess that’s right. I’m here and I’ve got nothing but time on my hands. If I can’t find a way out of this hole, then my name isn’t Toni—” She stopped herself just before she blurted “Rio.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed and he studied her face. His gaze swept the ro
om, falling on the crumpled paper and abused notebook in the corner. She shook her head and spun away to pace to the kitchen. He drew a long breath and let it out slowly. “Confinement is making you a little crazy, hmm?”
She turned, then dropped her gaze before his because he seemed to see so much. It was making her a lot more crazy since she’d overheard that conversation last night.
“Sit down…Toni.”
She didn’t argue. She was too tired. She went to the sofa and curled on one end with her legs tucked beneath her. Imagining him caught in the cross fire, cops firing at him from one side, criminals from the other, had taken a lot of energy. The relief left her weak. Nick sat down close to her. She felt his lingering gaze but didn’t return it. She braced her elbow on the cushioned arm and rested her forehead in her upturned palm.
“I need you to promise not to mess with the security system again, Toni. I can’t have the alarm going off every time I leave the house.”
“I don’t believe this,” she murmured. “My life’s turned inside out, my mother is being made to think I’m dead, and you’re worried about your precious security system.” She glanced sideways at him.
He pursed his lips, dropped his gaze and seemed to consider his next words carefully before speaking. Finally he looked at her again. “For all I know, the house could be wired. Do you know what that means?”
Toni’s curiosity rose to the surface like a shark at the scent of blood. It swallowed her frustration in one bite, her anger in the next. “Wired by whom? The police?”
He looked away. “Maybe.”
“No,” she said softly. She turned to face him fully. “It’s Taranto, isn’t it? You think Taranto might be listening in.” She knew she was right because the slight flicker in his eyes gave him away.
“The point is, those alarms would seem curious to anyone who might be eavesdropping. What if it was Taranto? If he finds out you’re here…”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Toni was well aware what her fate would be if Taranto discovered her. That Nick thought Taranto would trust him so little—that was interesting to her.
Reckless Angel Page 8
