He nodded, hating the pain in her voice but understanding it all too well. “He’d have taken your life, Toni. It wouldn’t have been the first. It certainly wouldn’t have been the last. God only knows how many lives you might’ve saved by taking his. I know that doesn’t make it right. But it’s something to remember.”
“Does it help?” She lifted her head and gazed up into his eyes.
“Not really. Nothing helps but time.” He let his fingers run through her hair. “You can bet he wouldn’t have wasted a single second feeling guilty if he’d been the one to pull the trigger first.” Again that lump lodged in his throat, making his voice sound strained. “I know I’d have never got over it.”
He met her eyes again, felt that jolt of elusive knowledge that disappeared as soon as he returned his gaze to the highway. He held her as they crossed the George Washington Bridge. He paid the toll and took them into New Jersey, still heading east. An hour later he pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a low-rate motel. He drove the car around to the rear, where it wouldn’t be visible from the street.
Toni collapsed into the nearest armchair with an exaggerated sigh. Nick finished speaking to Harry and hung the phone up, looking worried but better than he had before.
“How is he?” Toni asked.
“Which one?” Nick shook his head. “Joey’s conscious and stable, but I’m sure your mother told you that.”
She nodded. Her own relief at hearing her mother’s voice on the other end had left her limp. “She says he’s the world’s most uncooperative patient.”
“They want to keep him a few days. They still haven’t ruled out brain damage, but they think it’s unlikely. I always knew that guy had a hard head.”
She smiled. “And what about Harry?”
“The bullet only grazed him. He was wearing a seat belt, or the crash probably would’ve killed him. A tree kept him from going all the way down. He’s okay.”
“I’m glad.” She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “So, what now?”
“Your evidence is being analyzed. Warrants will be issued before the night is out. Taranto, Viper and a few others will be picked up. Until they are, we have orders to stay put. They’ll kill us without a second thought if they see us.”
Her head came up. “What about Mom, Joey? Aren’t they in danger, too?”
Nick shook his head. “They’re safe. There are enough cops guarding Joey to fill this motel. Harry is still on top of things. He says your mother has made herself a fixture at the hospital and he thinks that’s for the best. She’ll be well guarded, Toni.”
She felt a weight lift slowly from her mind. “Do you realize what this means?”
She saw him frown. “What?”
“It means we can relax.” She shook her head. “One uninterrupted night of blessed normalcy. No one shooting at us, no secret midnight meetings with Joey, no spying on you with that monitor and thinking you’re a slug.”
He lifted his brows. “You thought I was a slug?” He placed a hand dramatically over his heart. She laughed with him at that. He came to stand over her. “What would you consider normal, Gypsy?”
She looked up at him, feeling absurdly close to him now. “A large pizza with everything.” She broke eye contact to gaze around the room. “We have a VCR. What about some movies? And something to drink.” She glanced down her powdery clothes. “I think I’ll begin with a shower.” She frowned. “Do we have any clothes?”
“Leave it to me, Toni. Take your time in the shower.” She tilted her head to one side, but he didn’t explain his remark.
Shrugging, she moved into the bathroom and adjusted the water. She found thin white towels on the racks. Not exactly the height of luxury, but they would do.
As she stood under the spray, Toni tried to figure out exactly when she’d reached the decision not to write any more Katrina Chekov thrillers. She wasn’t sure. Now that she’d spent a few days living the life Katrina lived, she wasn’t so impressed with it. She supposed she’d been living vicariously through Katrina for some time now. This had been different, though. This had been real. Instead of creating courageous deeds for a fictional heroine, Toni had lived through her own. It wasn’t romantic or exciting. It was terrifying. She hoped she never had to go through anything like it again, even in her imagination.
The appeal of her long-ago dream of a big house, a big dog and a handful of small children was suddenly alive again. It was time, she realized. Maybe she’d needed to come to grips with her father’s death before she could think about living a real life. Maybe she’d needed to see that she didn’t have to be Wonder Woman to be happy. Maybe she’d only needed to find a man she wouldn’t mind sharing that huge Victorian house with.
In her mind’s eye, she saw Nick, and a little lead weight lowered itself onto her heart. He’d never feel for her the way she felt for him. He’d never settle for that dull sort of life she imagined. Something inside her told her she wouldn’t want it anyway with anyone else.
She loved him.
The realization came to her from somewhere deep inside, where it had been for some time. It bubbled up to the surface and danced there, refusing to be ignored any longer. She loved Nick Manelli.
What on earth was she going to do about it? Should she tell him? No, she couldn’t do that. It might scare him to the other side of the world. What if she could make him love her, too? Was it possible to do that? Could she do it?
A knock on the bathroom door jarred her. She twisted the shower knobs until the water stopped, yanked a towel off the rack and wrapped it around herself. “Come in.”
Nick opened the door. The smile died on his lips when he looked at her. She didn’t know why; she looked like a drowned rat with her hair still dripping wet, hanging over one shoulder, and rivulets of water running down her legs to make a small puddle at her feet. His eyes darkened, though, as his gaze traveled down her body, and there was no mistaking the desire she saw there.
He licked his lips, brought his gaze level with hers again. “I—uh—here.” He held a black T-shirt out to her. “I found it in the video store across the street.”
She took it from him, and when her fingers touched his she trembled. “Thanks.” She held it by its shoulders, so it unfolded. Charlie Chaplin was depicted on the front, leaning on his ever-present walking stick. The shirt was large enough so it would come to midthigh on her. Just right for a nightshirt.
He nodded and backed out of the room, closing the door.
Toni hugged the shirt to her for a long moment, biting her lips. He wanted her. She could see it in his eyes. She remembered the time she’d spent with him beneath those pines in the storm this morning. The way he’d shuddered at her touch. The way he’d held her, touched her. He’d been cold afterward, but while they’d been together he’d been completely open with her—physically, at least.
If she couldn’t reach out to him on an emotional level, at least she knew she could on a physical one. She’d have a last resort, if all else failed. She dropped the towel, pulled on her shirt and pulled her hair out of the collar. She opened the door.
“Your turn,” she told him.
She noticed how he forced his eyes to stay level with hers this time. “Okay, but you have to promise not to eat the pizza without me when it gets here.”
She shrugged. “If I were you, I’d make it a fast shower. I am starved.” She saw the pile of tapes on the bed then. “You got some movies! Let me guess. Schwarzenegger, Stallone, and—”
“Not even close, lady.” He moved past her into the bathroom, and in a moment she heard the shower running.
She picked up the tapes and looked at the titles. They were comedies, all of them. Martin and Lewis, Abbott and Costello, Danny Kaye. “How did you know?” she called several minutes later.
“Know what?”
“That I love classic comedy? You’ve got all my favorites here.”
The water flow stopped. “Those are my favorites. I didn’t kn
ow what you liked, although I had Miss Marple in mind. You snoops tend to stick together.”
She smiled, dropped the tape in her hand, and moved to stand near the bathroom door. “Don’t bother getting dressed,” she told him. “I want to take a look at your leg. Did you pick up any bandages on your excursion?”
The door opened, and Nick stood there in his shorts, rubbing his hair vigorously with a towel. “On the dresser.” A knock at the door brought his head up. He motioned Toni to stand where she was, ducked back into the bathroom and emerged again with his gun in one hand and his wallet in the other.
He stood to one side of the door, opened it slightly and relaxed. He took a twenty from his wallet and slipped it through. “Keep the change. Leave the pizza.” A moment later he opened the door wider, glanced quickly left and right and picked the square box up.
“Is it necessary to be that cautious?”
“Better safe than sorry.” He crossed to set the gun on the nightstand, wincing when he moved his left arm to lower the pizza box.
She marched past him, picking up the bandages he’d bought and shoving gently at his chest so he sat on the bed. “You are in sorry shape. Sit still.” She looked at the wound, satisfied that it was progressing, if slowly. She began to bandage it. Nick pawed the tapes as she worked.
“What do you want to watch first?” he asked.
She replied without looking up, “Abbott and Costello. ‘Who’s on first?’”
“I dunno,” he answered, not missing a beat.
She looked at him, caught the glint in his eye. Together they chorused, “Third base.” She laughed aloud, taped the bandage in place and reached for the cassette.
Nick pulled a triangle of cheesy pizza from the box as she slipped the tape into the machine. He handed it to her when she came back, then took one for himself. He surprised her by producing a pair of cold Cokes. For the next two hours, they laughed themselves sore, over jokes they’d both heard countless times before. They seemed fresh somehow when she heard them with Nick.
While the tape was rewinding, Nick choked back his laughter, eyed her seriously and said, “What is the name of the guy on first base?”
“Who,” Toni answered.
“The guy on first. What’s his name?”
“No. Who’s on first.”
“I dunno!” Nick yelled.
“Third base…” Toni broke down into gales of laughter that had tears brimming in her eyes. “If you ever get sick of cloak-and-dagger work, Nick, you have a brilliant future in comedy.” She got her laughter under control with an effort and studied his face. “Will you, do you think? Give it up, I mean?”
He folded his arms behind his head and leaned back against the headboard. “I haven’t thought about it.”
“You must have,” she countered. She sat on the opposite side of the bed, legs tucked under her, facing him. “You said once you’d waited your whole life to bring Taranto down. You must have known your life wouldn’t be over when that happened. What will you do with the rest of it?”
He looked at the ceiling, apparently considering what she’d said. “Law enforcement is my only area of expertise. What else could I do?”
“Law enforcement is a very broad term. It encompasses a lot more than just being a deep-cover federal agent with his life on the line every single day.” She shook her head. “Do you want to keep doing that?”
He sighed hard. “It gets to you after a while. The stress—the nerves.”
“It must.” She studied him for a long moment. “Try this. Close your eyes and think of your ideal life. The one you’d have if you could just snap your fingers and it would be real.” She was surprised when he complied, his eyes closing instantly. “Okay, now tell me what you’d be doing.”
His eyes opened again. “Andy Griffith,” he told her. “I’d be sheriff in some speck-on-the-map town. I’d stop at a three-table diner for a cup of the world’s best coffee and a homemade doughnut every morning. And every night—” He broke off suddenly and averted his eyes.
“What, Nick?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Pipe dreams.”
She felt like stomping her feet or breaking something. Why wouldn’t he open up? How could she get to him?
When he looked at her again, his emotions were well hidden. “How about another movie?”
She shook her head, opened her mouth and closed it again.
“What?” he asked, suddenly concerned. “What is it, Toni?”
God, she hated feeling this helpless. How did you get someone to see that it was okay to let go of past heartaches? That history didn’t necessarily have to repeat itself. That just because everyone in his life had walked out on him, it didn’t mean she would, as well.
That was it. That must be it; it didn’t take a psychologist to see what was going on with him.
His forefinger hooked beneath her chin and lifted it. “Tell me,” he said softly.
“Hold me,” she whispered. She moved closer to him and sighed softly when his arms came around her. “Was I terrible?”
His arms loosened, he stared down into her eyes. “Were you what?”
“Terrible…this morning. I haven’t had a lot of practice. There was a boy in college, and then two years ago, there was a man—but it didn’t last. I thought it was wonderful, but what do I know? Was it that bad for you—”
“Whoa, wait a minute, lady. Where is all of this coming from?”
She pulled away from him, turned her back to him. Nick got to his feet and looked at her. “You’ve barely touched me since. I figured I must have been lousy.”
He smiled broadly. “I didn’t mean for you to think—Hell, if you want the truth, you shook me.” He caught her face between his palms and tipped it up. “Are you listening? Unlike you, I’ve been with a lot of others.”
She had to blink fast to hide the pain that remark brought.
“But it was never that intense before. It was never that good, Toni. You hear me?”
She felt her eyes widen. “Is that true?”
“Swear to God.” He smiled a little. “Wasn’t it for you?”
“Yes—you know it was, but I thought that was because…” She stopped and caught her breath. It had been that intense for her because she’d been in love with him. She hadn’t been aware of it yet, but she had been. Could that possibly be his reason for feeling as he had? Could there be a chance? Maybe he did have strong feelings for her. Maybe he just didn’t realize it yet. Maybe she’d just have to make him realize it.
“Because what?” He frowned down at her.
Toni rose from the bed, her hands on his shoulders, a tiny smile playing with her lips. She turned slowly, pushing him until the backs of his legs touched the mattress. She slid her hands to his broad chest and shoved him hard. All of a sudden, she’d recalled his words to her as he’d left the car before, when he’d believed he was about to be killed. It meant something with you. The question was, what? He fell back onto the bed, but clasped her wrists so she went down with him, landing on his chest.
“You could have said something sooner,” she scolded. “All day I’ve been thinking how rotten I must have been.”
“Oh yeah? And what are you thinking now?” She saw the desire flash to life in his eyes. A smile was her only answer.
Chapter 12
Something about that half smile and the sparkle in her liquid eyes scared the hell out of Nick. He couldn’t have said exactly what. A moment later he no longer cared. She settled her tiny body more comfortably upon his and nuzzled his neck with her warm lips…and tiny flicks of her tongue.
A tremor quaked within him. It began at the core of his being and radiated outward until it enveloped his entire body and soul. The silken black curls tickling his skin were a potent, sensual torture, and he caught her head in his palms. He brought her face to his until she hovered just beyond reach of his lips. Her hair made satin curtains around his face. Its touch against his cheek thrilled him. Its scent, surro
unding him, was an aphrodisiac.
Her mouth, so close to his, parted. He could see her small white teeth, feel her short, heated breaths. Her lips at that moment were two swollen, ripe plums whose nourishment he required if he were to survive. He craved those lips and he reached for them with his own. He captured them, suckled them, held them captive until he hungered for more. He starved for the sweetness beyond, and his tongue swept inside her, tracing her moistness, absorbing her drugging nectar.
She allowed him to taste her honeyed mouth for some time before her tongue forced his out and followed it. He felt its pointy tip run a path along the roof of his mouth, over his teeth, inside his lips. It tangled with his own tongue even as their bodies were beginning to tangle.
Her thighs straddled his, her knees bent so her calves ran back under his. He felt the soft center of her pressed tight to his throbbing hardness. He could stand no more torture. He had to have her—now.
Nick reached down her back, over her hips, until his fingers touched the edge of the oversize T-shirt she wore. He lifted it, letting his hands run over the bare skin of her back, a forefinger tracing the curve of her spine. When the garment bunched around her shoulders, she lifted her body slightly, allowing him to pull it over her head. She would have returned her body flush to his, but he caught her shoulders and held her away. His gaze moved over her full, round breasts, lingering on their melon-colored centers. Her nipples went erect beneath his hot gaze. He moved his hands from her shoulders to cup them. He pinched the hard little tips between thumb and forefinger, watching her face. Her eyes closed in obvious pleasure. He pinched slightly harder. She threw her head back, arching like a cat.
She drove him beyond gentleness. He gripped her shoulders fast and jerked her forward until her breasts dangled within reach. He caught one with his lips and sucked it hard, tugging and using his teeth on its stiff crest until small whimpering sounds came from deep inside her throat. With a shivering inhale, she pulled back, met his gaze, her own glazed with passion. She lowered her lips to his chest, scraping her teeth over his flesh, over his sensitive male nipple until he shuddered in response.
Reckless Angel Page 17
