Lucy looked at her, wagging her tail.
“She’s never ridden in anything but the car.”
“Maybe this isn’t going to work.”
“Of course it will.” Bella crawled up into the back. “She just needs to see that it’s okay. Come on, Lucy.”
Lucy jumped up in a semi-graceful leap.
“That’s my girl.” Bella grinned as she bent down to give the puppy a kiss and pet her side. “Now lie down.”
Lucy did as she was asked.
“Stay down just like that. I don’t want you getting hurt.” She moved to the edge.
“Need a hand?”
“If you’re willing to give one.”
He reached up, grabbing her around her waist as Bella settled her hands on his shoulders. Lifting her, he set her on the ground.
She smiled at him, standing inches away, giving him a close-up of her flawless skin and a solid whiff of her perfume. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Clenching his jaw, he watched her walk to the passenger side. This was such a bad idea. Now that it was too late to change his mind, he could count a million reasons why he should have stayed inside. He didn’t do stuff like this—take nights off and walk on beaches with women and their dogs. They would keep their evening short—a quick stroll, Lucy would chase a couple of birds, and then they could go. The next time his mother gave him crap about being a bitter ex-cop with no life, he’d be able to tell her he’d been in the company of a gorgeous woman not once but three times. He slid his sunglasses in place and hurried to the driver’s seat, buckling up. “So, am I heading any place special or should we go to the main beach?”
“Lucy and I have the perfect spot. It’s pretty quiet. I’ll give you directions.” She looked back at the puppy lying where she’d been told to stay.
“She’ll be fine.”
“I know.”
He backed up and came to the set of lights leading out of the development.
“You’ll want to take a right.”
He waited for a lull in the traffic and they were off.
“It doesn’t take long—just ten or fifteen minutes, and it’s totally worth it.”
He made a sound in his throat as the wind blew through the open windows, sending her intoxicating scent his way. Bad idea, he reminded himself as she chatted away, telling him to turn here, then there.
“This is it.” She pointed out his window, grinning. “Paradise.”
There was barely anyone on the beach as he took a free spot among the parking spaces. He stared out at the horizon, captivated by the sparkle of the sun on the water and the waves crashing to the sand.
“Perfect,” she said and got out, walking to the back.
Reed locked up and put down the tailgate.
“Come on, Lucy,” Bella encouraged the dog.
Lucy didn’t need any more convincing. She was out of the back and in the sand before Reed could turn around.
Bella laughed. “And she’s off chasing her gulls.”
He watched Lucy run like an awkward moose, just as Bella had described. “She really goes after them.”
“It’s her favorite thing. She sleeps like the dead after.”
“Has she ever caught one?”
Bella’s eyes filled with horror as they met his. “Of course not. I wouldn’t let her do it if I thought she actually had a chance.”
He returned his attention to Lucy. “That’s a lot of activity for such a big animal.”
“She’s not so big.”
He looked at Bella as if she were crazy. “Just another Chihuahua.”
She grinned as she pulled off her sandals and stepped into the sand. “She looks like any other dog to me.”
He followed her lead, holding his shoes in one hand. It had been years since he and his cousin had done this very thing. Now Kurt was gone.
They kept a slow pace, strolling in silence as the breeze plastered their clothes to their bodies and the constant sound of waves hypnotized, lulling Reed into relaxing by degrees.
“Thanks for coming with me tonight. It’s nice having company.”
He looked at her, staring at the fading light playing off her eyes. “The water smells better than a bunch of sweaty guys.”
“Your gym.” Her brow creased ever so slightly as she held his gaze. “What do you do for fun?”
“Work and box.”
“Sounds…like a good time.”
“I like it.”
“Do you smile?”
He frowned. “Huh?”
“I was wondering if you ever smile—or laugh. I haven’t seen you do either since we met.”
He sent her an exaggerated grin.
She laughed.
He smiled for real this time, finding her laughter infectious.
“You do smile. I wasn’t sure if you had some sort of facial paralysis we hadn’t discussed yet.”
He grinned.
“You should do that more often.” She hooked her arm through his.
He almost missed a step as the warmth of her skin met his, surprised by her casual gesture. He wasn’t used to people being so touchy-feely. “I do it plenty.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
How was it possible she smelled even better now that they stood so close? It had to be her hair. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
She stopped abruptly. “Are you seeing anyone?”
He studied her, not sure that he liked where this was going. “No. You interested?”
She shook her head. “You’re not really my type.”
He tried to ignore the direct hit to his ego. “You’re not mine either.”
Another smile warmed her face. “I think we could be great friends, and I like projects—love them, actually.”
His frown returned. “And that means…”
“It means I like you. And I love that you don’t seem to have any interest in getting into my pants.”
Years of concealing any and all facial expressions kept his eyes from popping wide. “Wow.” He ran his hand through his hair, speechless once again. “Okay.”
She laughed. “I’m a big fan of honesty—putting it right out there.”
He chuckled as he settled his sunglasses on top of his head. “Clearly.”
They started walking again.
“There’s something about you that feels…safe.”
He raised his brow, taken aback. He’d been called many things, but this was a first. “Safe?”
She nodded. “Safe. It’s a good thing, but you’re pretty serious. We need to lighten you up. You need to play more.”
“I play plenty. I box.”
She scoffed, “Beating someone’s face in can’t lead you down the road to happiness.”
Her side brushed his with every step. He imagined he should ease away, break their connection, but he liked the way she felt, that she trusted him. “There’s more to boxing than beating someone’s face in.”
She looked at him as if she wasn’t so sure.
“I’ll have to show you—” He glanced over his shoulder when he realized they hadn’t seen Lucy for a while and laughed as the dog lay on her back in the sand with her front paws in the air. “What is she doing?”
“Sunbathing.”
He laughed again, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anything like that.” His eyes met Bella’s as she stared at him. “What?”
“You have a great laugh.”
To his surprise, he was having a great time. It shocked him further that he liked Bella as much as she seemed to like him. Being here with her was exactly what he’d needed. “How long do you want to stay?”
“The sun sets soon. It’s the best part.”
The sand wasn’t bothering him much, and he couldn’t remember the last time his shoulders felt so loose. “I don’t have a blanket.”
“We can sit on our shoes.” She tossed hers down. “We can plunk ourselves right here.”
Lucy rolled to her side, stood, and ran their w
ay.
He shrugged, dropping his flip-flops to the ground. “I guess this is as good a place as any.”
“It’ll be spectacular.” She took his hand, pulling him down next to her. “You won’t regret it.”
“We’ll have to remember a blanket next time.”
She smiled. “You want to come back?”
He stared ahead, petting Lucy when she curled up next to him, breathing in Bella with each inhalation. “I could see myself doing this again.”
She gave his shoulder a bump. “Good. You can be my beach buddy.”
He nodded, liking the idea. “Yeah, sure.”
“Great.”
“Great.” He crossed his ankles in the sand, his foot brushing Bella’s as they settled in to enjoy the show. It had been too damn long since he watched a sunset.
Chapter Five
Reed glanced at the time on his dashboard clock while he sat in his truck, hoping to catch a glimpse of the next man on Joey’s long list. He’d gotten up early on his only day off, fully intending to eliminate a few more names before the day was over. If he could get a good look at three or four potential Nicoli Caparelli candidates—especially on a weekday, when most people worked—he would consider his endeavor a success. He had a Tim Wolcott to check out in Simi Valley, another in Thousand Oaks. Then he had to drive his ass all the way up to Bakersfield to see if he could set eyes on one of their Vincent Pescoe possibilities. But he needed this guy to cooperate first.
It was tempting to move things along, knock on the door, and pretend he was at the wrong address, but that wouldn’t play as well on a Tuesday morning as it had on Sunday afternoon. His party-sized bag of Fritos and shocked surprise that he’d somehow ended up at the wrong place for his buddy’s poker game did the job forty-eight hours ago, but it wouldn’t serve him well now. People tended to be more guarded Monday through Friday, and he wasn’t taking any risks.
Today he was prepared to spend plenty of time sitting behind the wheel, chasing down dead ends. Patience was always a virtue in this line of work. Surveillance was a constant waiting game, and he missed it. He and Joey had spent hours—sometimes days—parked along the busy streets of Brooklyn, hoping for their big break. More often than not, they didn’t get jack shit, but sometimes they hit pay dirt. It was all about the big score, the unexpected link in the chain that brought about the next clue.
Stifling a yawn, he rolled down his window as the late-morning sunshine beat through the glass, baking his left side. He fiddled through the radio stations, looking for sports talk instead of the music he was currently listening to, and stopped abruptly, powering off the unit, when a cab pulled into Vincent Pescoe’s driveway. “Here we go. Here we go,” he muttered, waiting to see what happened next.
Moments later, a tall man with a solid frame and salt-and-pepper hair stepped outside, locking the door behind him.
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered, yanking up the surveillance camera he’d borrowed from the office. He adjusted the lens and zoomed in to snap several shots. The guy definitely fit the bill. Olive complexion, right age and build—certainly a possible first-generation Italian American. He grabbed up the last picture the media had captured of Nicoli Caparelli twenty-seven years ago, before he vanished into WITSEC, trying to compare the image to the man getting into the back of the cab, but it was impossible to tell if this was who he and Joey were looking for.
Reed waited until the lime-green vehicle drove up the street and pulled into the steady flow of traffic before he followed. It wouldn’t be hard to keep his eye on such a vividly painted car, but if this Vincent Pescoe had spent nearly thirty years hiding, he would be well-versed in spotting a tail.
He gunned it through one stoplight, trailed at a distance through another, then drove on even when the cab turned into the plaza adjacent to North Medical Center. He was forced to go through one more intersection before he could turn around and pull into the gas station across the street from the large hospital complex where he’d watched Vincent get out. Parking in the first available space, he went into the convenience store for good measure, grabbing a small bag of salted nuts and a bottled water, then went back out, sitting for over an hour before the familiar cab pulled up in front of one of the buildings and Vincent settled himself inside.
He followed the vehicle the two short blocks back to Darby Avenue, watched Vincent get out, then drove on, heading toward the 405 and Palisades instead of northwest to Simi Valley. This lead was promising. They might actually have something here. He wanted to call Joey right then and there, but he needed to be sure—or surer than he was right now.
Pushing the speed limit, he made it home ten minutes faster than the GPS’s original estimated time frame. Instead of heading upstairs to his desk, he sat at the counter on a rickety barstool he’d picked up at a discount store and made himself as comfortable as he could while he imported the images into his laptop. Waiting impatient seconds, he found the best shot of the bunch and leaned closer, scrutinizing the man’s face.
When he still wasn’t certain, he typed Nicoli Caparelli into Google Images and glanced at the dozen surveillance photos the FBI had captured back in his mafia days. In two of the pictures, Nicoli stood next to Patrizio Caparelli, Nicoli’s father and boss of the Caparelli crime family. In almost every other shot, he walked next to his brother, Alfeo Caparelli, current Caparelli Godfather and inmate at Lewisburg Penitentiary…for the next one hundred six days.
He took one of the full-on shots, courtesy of the Feds, and dragged it next to the photo he’d snapped this morning. The familiar rush of excitement started flowing through his veins when he compared Vincent Pescoe’s and Nicoli Caparelli’s noses, mouths, and jawlines. “There you are, you bastard.” He yanked up his phone and dialed Joey’s number, listening to his heart thunder as he composed an email while waiting for his partner to answer.
“Yeah.”
“We’ve got him.”
“What?”
“We’ve got him.”
“Are you sure?”
He hit send on the email. “Take a look for yourself.”
Seconds passed in tense silence. “Holy fuck. Holy fuck!” Joey’s incredulous laugh filled Reed’s ear. “We’ve got him.”
Reed felt himself smile before it disappeared. “I’ll go up this weekend and make sure—get a close-up, walk by him or something. Get actual eyes on him instead of a lens.”
“This is him, Reed.”
He stared at the pictures again. “You know I want to be one hundred percent certain. I was parked a good twenty-five, thirty yards from his place.”
“You get your positive ID, buddy.”
He stood and paced, unable to be still. “If this really is Nicoli, what the hell’s next?”
“I haven’t gotten that far. He’s a gold mine of information—the key to bringing down the Caparellis once and for all. We all know the Feds never put the squeeze on him the way they could have—should have.”
“I guess that’s where we come in.” And he was more than willing to do his part. Decades ago, the FBI made a deal with the devil—Nicoli’s testimony against his brother for the brutal slayings of a Caparelli mob man, his pregnant wife, and their toddler. Nicoli spilled the beans in court, then walked away scot-free even though he’d played just as big a part in the same murders Alfeo got locked away for. And that’s all Nicoli had shared: details about a gruesome winter night in the late 1980s—the tip of the iceberg for one of the most powerful crime families ever to exist. Now they just had to figure out how they were going to use the knowledge Nicoli aka Vincent Pescoe had to their advantage.
“Unreal. Unreal, man.” Joey laughed again. “This is so big, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. Think on it for the afternoon, and I’ll do the same. We’ll come up with something.”
“We always do. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Good work, buddy.”
“Thanks.” He hung up and closed his laptop, ready to go upstairs and pou
nd on a punching bag. Some of his best ideas came to him when he imagined he was ramming his fists into Alfeo Caparelli’s face.
Chapter Six
Bella got out of her car in the pouring rain as lightening flashed in the distance and thunder boomed seconds later. Her umbrella kept her dry for the most part as she raced around to Lucy’s side in the gusting winds, but she was eager to get inside on such a miserable night. “Go to the house, Luce. I’ll be right there.”
Lucy wasted no time following Bella’s directions and ran to the door.
“Good girl,” she called, starting Lucy’s way but stopping when she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She frowned, realizing it was Reed stepping from his front door with no protection from the downpour. Within moments, his gray Nike T-shirt was plastered to his tough build and his jeans dotted from the huge drops falling from the sky. “What are you doing out here?”
“Getting soaked.”
She quickened her pace on the sidewalk connecting their driveways and offered him shelter from Mother Nature’s wrath, caught off guard by the devastating combination of Reed’s vivid blue eyes and long eyelashes gone spiky from the rain. “Tell me you’re not going out in this.” She raised her voice, competing with the pounding water on the umbrella’s fabric canopy. “I could barely see the cars in front of me on my drive home, and there’s still a little daylight left.”
“I need to get to the barber.” He swiped his hand through his light brown hair, darker now that it was wet.
She tore her gaze away from the hypnotizing effect of his baby blues and studied his neat modern Caesar cut. “You look fine to me.”
He shook his head. “I’m getting shaggy. And I won’t have another chance for a cleanup until Saturday. Waiting four more days is too long. I’m leaving for Seattle in the morning.”
“More business meetings?”
“Bingo. And I’ve heard rumors of a hostile takeover while we’re there, so that should be interesting.”
“Maybe you’ll see a little action—stuffy CEOs losing their tempers and crawling over the tables to get at each other.” She wiggled her eyebrows, imagining sexy, intense Reed taking control of the situation.
Deceiving Bella: Book Eleven In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series Page 5
