by Bonnie Dee
“Go on,” she said, hoping she sounded inviting rather than outraged. “Tell me what he did and why these people are after him. He’s my brother. I have a right to know.”
“I don’t think I should go into the details. Maybe later. The important point is that because of what Elliot did, some very unpleasant people are angry with me. People with money and reach and power. People who can bribe officers of the law and who aren’t above using someone like a waitress in a small town to get what they want.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. Warning you.” That grim flicker of a smile again. “Don’t try to deal with the Espositos. If they find out about your connection with Elliot, they might use you as bait to lure him back. Get it?”
The food arrived. Ames waited until the waitress left again to speak.
“I don’t want to get involved with you people any more than I have to. I just want to find out where Elliot is. You know where he’s gone, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “I have no clue. I wish I did.”
“Why do you wish that? What do you want from him?”
“I’d rather not say. You don’t need to know, honey.”
Honey? He had the nerve to call her by an endearment?
“Yes, I do need to know, sweetie pie.”
Her effort to get him mad didn’t work. He only grinned.
“When you say you’d rather not tell me what you want from Elliot—does that mean you’re maybe, umm.” She had to stop, then tried again. “You’d kill him?”
“I’d be tempted, but no. I promise I’m no assassin, just a museum curator with really unfortunate relatives. I worked hard to escape their world but like Pacino said, just when you think you’re out, they pull you back in.” His easy smile vanished, and he looked…sad.
Maybe it was stupid to believe he wasn’t a killer, but for some reason—shared amusement maybe—as they talked, she relaxed a little. Not enough to get into a car with him. She’d been fluctuating between outrage and fear, and she’d gratefully take a break from the extreme emotions. She picked up the fork and poked at the pie.
He didn’t have any qualms and dug into the fish and rice. Between mouthfuls, he said, “Like I said, I’m not telling you all the details. You’re safer being ignorant if the Espositos should find and question you.”
She wondered if she should push more or act as if she believed him. But nerves won out, again, and she got pushy when she got scared. “So I should believe that my brother, an accountant, is involved with criminals? And not you, a man who’s been connected to the mob his whole life?”
“Yeah.”
She waited in vain for him to explain. He calmly ate the salmon, going through the food rapidly but neatly. Good manners for an animal.
“Why are you poking around the house? What are you looking for?” She remembered the shovel Sam held when she’d first encountered him at the house. Not Sam, dammit. She had to remember he was Nick.
And now she thought of the dirt on his hands and jeans—and oh no. The dirt floor in the basement. For a horrible moment, she wondered if he was digging holes to find or, worse, plant Elliot’s corpse. She thought back on their conversations. No. She didn’t believe he’d killed Elliot but perhaps he believed someone else might have.
Ames abandoned any attempts to manipulate him and begged for the truth. “You kept asking about his habits and places Elliot liked. Please, tell me you’re not looking for his body.”
He raised his brows and stopped eating. “No. Not him. I’m looking for some things he took from the Espositos. Like I said, he worked for them. Didn’t he tell you about what he did for a living at all?”
She shook her head. ”Not really. He mentioned accounting for some firm, but he was vague about it.”
Sam/Nick withheld information, but she believed him when he said he didn’t know where Elliot was. Why in God’s name did she feel like she could trust him? She felt like a rubber ball, bouncing up—yes, she believed him, and down—no, he was just a lying scumbag. Maybe the strong attraction she’d felt for him made a neutral response impossible. Because even if it had been a lie, yesterday’s immediate sense of connection still existed inside her.
She heaved a sigh. “What did Elliot take?”
He hesitated, then said, “Evidence.”
“Maybe he was going to the police?”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t think that was his intention.” He really did sound sorry. Boing, her emotions bounced back into trust again.
He put down his fork and rubbed his face briskly, as if trying to wake himself up. “It’s not just evidence about shady accounting that vanished. A hell of a lot of cash is gone too.”
He pushed away the food half eaten. Maybe he wasn’t so calm after all. “That’s part of the reason the Espositos are so determined. They don’t want the news to get out. Elliot makes them look bad. Anyone who knows anything will be in a lot of trouble.”
His voice turned gruff with anger—at Elliot or her? She flinched away.
“I’m not threatening you, just telling you how it is. Dammit, will you please believe I don’t mean you harm?”
She gave a nod, unwilling to trust her voice.
“You know pretty much everything now, so do me a favor and tell me the truth, after you did your search for my name did you talk to anyone about me?”
She didn’t owe him. She wanted him to tell her more of his secrets—any of his secrets. “Why’d you tell me you’re a museum curator?”
“I am. I’m not lying, Ames. I promise. I help run a small museum on the Upper East Side devoted to New York history.” He started to reach for his back pocket, then shook his head. “Past tense. I jettisoned that job and that part of my life. Ha. I was going to give you a business card, but they’re all gone. I had to leave behind even the damn business cards.” He sounded bitter.
“If you left that old life, then how’d you get involved with my brother? And what are curators doing going clubbing with people like Sandra Marvin?”
He’d been eyeing her uneaten pie but looked up sharply at her words. “Sandra’s an old friend from before I changed my life. How’d you know about her?”
“She was in the photo and I tracked it back to her Facebook page.”
“Christ,” he whispered. “What did you do? Did you contact her?”
She nodded.
“Oh, shit.”
He stood up, pulled out his wallet and threw a couple of twenties on the table. “Come on.”
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that Sandra Marvin is Bert Esposito’s girlfriend. If she knows where I am, so does he.”
“Bert Esposito.” He’d said that name before.
“A really, really bad guy.” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go. Now.”
Chapter Seven
Ames was glad she hadn’t eaten much. As it was, the peach pie curdled in her stomach. Mobsters. Mafia. Wise guys. Goombas. Hit men. She felt as if she’d wandered onto the set of a crime thriller. While it was exciting to watch such dramas from the safety of an armchair, she wasn’t prepared to plunge into one.
“I’m going to call the FBI and tell them everything. You say my brother’s mixed up with criminals; I’m going straight to the authorities and get help.” She tried to keep her voice calm, but it quavered on the last two words.
“Even if Elliot might end up in prison due to your ‘helping’ him?”
“Better in prison than dead. If he knows stuff about these criminals, he can plea bargain or something. He can maybe make amends for what he’s done.”
“I don’t know if he’d feel the same way. And the FBI might not be the saviors you want them to be. Besides, Ames, he wouldn’t be safe in prison either.” Nick’s hand came down on her arm and he drew her gently but firmly up from her seat. “We should go now. We can talk more in the car.”
As she let him lead her from the restaurant, Ames questioned her sanity. Now that he knew she knew his
true identity, this guy might be driving her somewhere to…to whack her. But instinct told her this wasn’t true. She believed his story about Elliot having burned his fingers, messing with stuff he shouldn’t have gone near. It was such an Elliot thing to do. He’d been getting into scrapes since middle school, for no particular reason she could tell. It wasn’t as if their family had been broken or dysfunctional. Elliot had simply always had a wild streak.
“I’m going to drop you off at your apartment, and then I suggest you stay as far away from me as possible,” Nick said as he opened the car door and practically shoved her inside. “If a stranger comes to see you, don’t let him in.”
“Duh. Ya think?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not stupid enough to believe I can handle this on my own. Like I said, I’m going to call the FBI.”
He didn’t say anything until he’d slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Right now, if I can find what Elliot stole and return it to Bert, we could come out of this okay. Getting the FBI involved isn’t our best move, trust me.”
Our best move, he’d said. That was interesting. “Really? You think Bert and his friends are going to forgive somebody who stole from them? Why should I believe they’ll just walk away?”
Nick glowered at the road before them. “You don’t understand everything that’s involved here.”
“Then why don’t you tell me the rest,” she exploded. “Ignorance isn’t going to keep me any safer. I have a right to know exactly what Elliot did.”
His jaw tightened, and how sick was it that the play of muscles sent a little wave of heat through her?
“Fine. I guess you’re in it now,” he muttered at last. “I met your brother in college through some mutual friends. To be honest, I didn’t like the guy much at first, but…” He paused, and Ames could almost see memories flickering across his expressive eyes. “We ended up bonding over some beers and we were practically roommates for a while, in the same suite. Elliot could be a real asshole, but he could be a good friend too.” He flicked a glance at her.
Elliot had been her best friend and worst enemy at various times in their life. “He’s never boring,” she offered.
Nick smiled. “No, that he’s not. You know what a thrill seeker he is. When he learned I was related to one of the ‘families’, Elliot wanted me to introduce him to people. He loved to gamble, had an on-campus bookie business for a while, and he was eager to kick it up to the next level.”
The more Nick spoke, the more Ames believed he really did know her brother. She shook her head at Elliot’s stupidity. “So you introduced him to the Espositos.”
“No. In fact, I told him he was an idiot. I’d worked to escape those connections. After what happened to my father, I wasn’t about to get a guy I liked sucked into the life. But after college Elliot used my name, introduced himself, and got the Espositos to hire him.”
Ames stared at the trees rushing past the window. That sounded just like something her brother would do. “Ah jeez. Elliot,” she murmured.
“We’d stopped hanging out around that time,” Nick continued. “I didn’t want any part of what he was getting into. I was concentrating on my own career, a nice normal job working at a museum, doing research, paying back school loans. Elliot was just a memory from my college days, until he called me out of the blue last month. And then he sent a text message…” He shook his head.
“What did he do?” Ames didn’t want to hear the answer. She’d already figured it out. “Did he embezzle from them? Siphon off money to an account in the Caymans or something? Isn’t it all electronic transfers now?”
“Something like that. They still like cold hard cash. I think he skimmed money from a couple of betting operations. He took cash and, more importantly, information to use as leverage to keep himself safe if he ever needed to plea bargain. I think he took small amounts and was having trouble laundering it, so he just let it pile up. When he ran, he stopped in at my place first. And someone was watching him.”
“Your place?”
“I had a spot where I hid stuff. My—” He shut up and stared out the window as he passed an SUV with Rhode Island plates. His expression went cold as he intently studied the passengers of the car, and his hand went into his pocket. Wait, was he carrying a gun?
He remained silent even after he obviously relaxed and dropped back into the slower lane.
She tapped his leg. “Go on. You were about to say something about a hiding place.”
“Oh, right. Just that my father got me into the habit of hiding important…stuff for easy access.”
Important “stuff” in her world included passports, car titles, but maybe with his background, he meant valuables like drugs and unregistered handguns—that sort of fun stuff.
He said, “Dad didn’t have safe-deposit boxes in banks, and we never trusted anyone. He believed in keeping ready cash and other things in case he needed to run. I hadn’t used my secret spot for years, but Elliot knew where I used to keep valuables in my apartment. He came to my place for advice about how to break off with the Espositos, and while I was distracted, he lifted my extra key. He came back when I wasn’t home and hid part of his stash in the false back of a bookcase. Some of the money and a coded ledger page tracking payoffs.”
“Why would he go to the trouble of hiding those things in your apartment rather than some spot of his own? It doesn’t make sense.”
“He left just enough to drag my ass into the fire, to get the Espositos to focus on me instead of him.” He glanced away from the road to scowl at her—angry because she was related to Elliot, or because he didn’t think she’d believe him?
She ignored his dark look and circled a hand to get him to keep talking.
He wiggled his shoulders as if he tried to get comfortable, then leaned forward over the wheel again. So much nervous energy flowed through Nick, he didn’t seem able to relax.
“Someone broke into my house, presumably because they’d been tracking Elliot, and found the evidence, which makes me think maybe Elliot somehow secretly tipped him off where to look. Anyway, I had no clue about any of this until I got a warning or something from Elliot, a text message. I went looking for your brother and found this guy at his apartment instead.”
“Did you know the man?”
He shot her a scowl. “No. I told you, I haven’t been in that world for years. The guy knew me though. Bert had given him my name, maybe my description, who knows. It didn’t end well. I think he must have been hired help because Bert didn’t mention him later on, after the guy, um, disappeared.”
A chill ran through her at the word “disappeared”. Could Nick have killed the man? She wanted to ask what had happened, but instead said, “So you came looking for Elliot in Wisconsin?”
“There’s still over four mill in cash missing, some in small denominations. That much money is sort of tough to cart around everywhere. Not impossible, but not simple.”
She gasped. He sounded so casual. Four million might not be a lot to him, but she suspected it was more than she’d earn in her lifetime.
He went on. “No one came knocking at my door after that first guy, but Bert Esposito let me know that if I could track down the money and evidence, I’d have a better chance at survival. That was a few weeks ago.”
“Survival? They’d kill you?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Elliot’s in trouble. I’m in trouble, and now, dammit, so are you. I told Bert to give me some time, and he agreed. But after that I dropped my name and life. I saw what Cesar did to my dad and if I didn’t succeed… They’ll be after me. I probably have hours to find the rest of that ledger or whatever it is, and the money. Delivering Elliot to them would be a bonus, but that’s not going to happen.” His teeth worried his bottom lip. “Bert’s probably using his own guys on this job. A contractor may show up too.”
“Contractor?”
“Hired killer.” He sounded as casual as he had when talking about the four million bucks. “I hope Be
rt or someone from New York comes west, which they will after your little chat with Sandy. I can talk to someone from the outfit—if I find them before they find me.”
All of a sudden, Ames was very glad she’d hardly eaten anything at the restaurant. “Pull over.”
He glanced at her. “Huh?”
“Pull over now!” She clapped a hand to her mouth and urged her roiling stomach to hold on to its contents just a little longer.
Nick swerved to the berm, tires catching on loose gravel so the car fishtailed a little. Ames was out of her door and crouched over before the vehicle completely stopped. As she retched, she stared at a clump of clover and wondered if she’d see one with four leaves. She could use the luck right about now.
She glanced at Nick’s legs as they approached. He hovered near her. She wished he wouldn’t stand there watching.
Her queasiness subsided, but fear and horror remained lodged in her gut like a rock.
“You okay?” he asked.
She glared up at him and started to rise, but then her foot slipped on the gravel, and she nearly tumbled down the slope into the ditch. Nick grabbed her arm and hauled her up and around the front of the car to solid ground.
Ames pulled away. “Of course I’m not okay. You tell me my brother’s mixed up with mobsters and a hit man is coming to Arnesdale, and you think I could possibly be okay?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring this to your doorstep, but I had to try to find Elliot or what he hid—if it’s even in Arnesdale.”
“My brother’s a lot of things—careless, impetuous, lazy and likely to take the easiest way—but he’s not a bad man. He’s not a criminal.” Ames was shouting into Nick’s face, slamming her hands into his chest hard enough to knock him backward, step by step with each denial. Even as she refuted what he’d told her, she had the sinking feeling Elliot was exactly that—a criminal. Worse, so much worse, he might even be dead.
Fantastic. Now tears stung her eyes. The possibility that Elliot had been killed had lingered in her mind for weeks, but she couldn’t consider that yet. Not on top of Mom and Dad. No one should have to lose their entire family within the space of a year. Now, it seemed he wasn’t dead but on the run and likely to be killed sooner rather than later.
