The Redemption of Rico D'Angelo

by Michelle Douglas

  ‘It’s just that I’m pretty certain I did lock the screen door.’ It was an action that had become second nature.

  ‘How certain?’

  ‘Ninety per cent.’

  A second passed. Rico’s hands clenched. ‘You think someone picked the lock?’

  Her mouth dried. ‘I’m probably being paranoid, that’s all.’ She pressed her hands together and prayed that was all it was. ‘About a week after Chris and I broke up I came home after work one night to find my entire apartment open—front door, back door and every single window. He must’ve still had a key. That was the first time I moved. The second time was after I woke one morning to find the house I’d rented splattered with red paint. I don’t want to run like that again.’

  She would not be turned into a fugitive.

  Rico’s right hand formed a hard, tight fist. She stared at it for a moment before glancing back out at the water.

  ‘I have deadbolts on all the doors and windows, but not the screen door. Normally I don’t leave the doors open, but it was so lovely and sunny today, and I...’ For heaven’s sake—it had been the middle of the day and broad daylight!

  ‘You should be able to leave your front door open without fear of reprisals.’

  He spoke fiercely and a lump lodged in her throat. She closed her eyes, counted to three and then shoved her shoulders back before turning to face him.

  ‘I have been distracted today, though. I was offered the job.’ She flashed him a smile that was meant to reassure him, but it didn’t seem to do the trick. ‘And I have a dinner this evening that I’m really stressing about. I need it to go well.’ If it didn’t... Her gut clenched. ‘It’s why I banished Monty to the courtyard. I just needed thirty minutes to get the dinner preparations sorted. I was trying to work quickly and I was focused on chopping and quietening the dumb dog.’

  ‘And after the slashing of the tyres you were understandably jumpy.’

  He didn’t make reference to her over-the-top reaction. He didn’t have to. It hung in the silence between them. But for several terrified seconds this afternoon she’d thought she’d have to fight for her life. Her mouth dried all over again at the memory. She hadn’t realised how spooked she’d become.

  She clenched her hands. She would not allow Chris to do this to her. She might not be able to control his actions, but she could control her own. She had no intention of letting her guard down again, but she’d allowed her life to shrink. That had to stop.

  There was just one last thing...

  ‘The incidents had become fewer and fewer. I thought perhaps Chris had finally given up. And, honestly, it’s illegal for him to come within twenty metres of me. The moment he does I can throw the book at him, and I doubt very much he’d risk that. However, as he obviously hasn’t given up would you prefer it if I stood down as your café manager?’

  He halted and planted his hands on his hips. ‘Why would I do that?’

  She didn’t say anything, just let him come to the same conclusion she had.

  He frowned. ‘You think he might start targeting your place of work?’

  ‘I don’t pretend to know what goes through his mind. It’s a possibility, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m not letting some sociopathic freak of a bully determine who I will or won’t employ!’

  Just for a moment she glimpsed something in him beyond the self-possessed, preoccupied executive. Something dark and dangerous that should have had her backing away but actually had her wanting to edge closer.

  ‘I know you’re the right person for this job.’

  She stared at him, at the fire in his eyes, and the weight of his expectation slammed down on her shoulders, making them sag.

  ‘But for heaven’s sake, Neen, what possessed you to go out with a jerk like that in the first place?’

  She hugged her arms about her waist and started walking blindly up the beach again. She’d been searching for love. She’d ached for it. That was why she’d fallen for Chris. He’d focused all his attention on her in a way nobody in her life had before—except for Grandad—and she’d lapped it up like a starving woman. Like the stupid, weak woman that she was.

  It was only later that his possessiveness and jealousy had come to light. Or at least that she’d recognised them for what they were. If she hadn’t been so needy she might have realised sooner and she could have ended the relationship then. But she hadn’t, and now she was paying the price.

  ‘I made a mistake,’ she said when she was sure of her voice. ‘Haven’t you ever made a mistake?’

  She glanced up, but his face had frozen into a dark mask.

  He gave one hard nod and a curt, ‘Yes,’ and then swung on his heel and set off back the way they’d come.

  She glanced around—Monty was still splashing in the water beside them—and then dashed to catch up with Rico. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make that about you.’

  He blinked and the mask disappeared. ‘I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s hit me what a high price innocent mistakes can carry. It hardly seems fair.’

  She took in the knotted tie, the polished shoes, and wondered what mistakes lurked in his past.

  ‘Take the youth I work with. Most of them are paying for other people’s mistakes. It’s not their fault they were born to teenage mothers or have parents who’ve turned to alcohol or drugs.’

  ‘And you want to make a difference?’

  His eyes flashed. ‘I will make a difference!’

  For some reason his words chilled her. Or perhaps it was the tone in which they were uttered.

  ‘Have you ever taken self-defence classes, Neen?’

  It wasn’t a question designed to dispel the chill that gripped her. She chafed her arms. ‘No.’

  ‘Why on earth not?’ He reached out and pulled her to a stop. He dropped his hand again almost immediately. ‘Surely that’s one of the sensible precautions you can take?’

  She turned away from him and stared out across the water and up at Mount Wellington, which towered over the city of Hobart, dominating it.

  ‘Neen?’

  She finally turned back. ‘I kept hoping I wouldn’t need to, that the threat wouldn’t become physical.’ She scanned the beach and the park beyond. ‘Besides, I suspect he’s watching me, following me. I haven’t wanted to give him any ideas.’

  * * *

  Rico stared down at Neen and his heart clenched. She seemed suddenly small and fragile. His hands fisted at the thought of anyone hurting her—at the thought of any man hurting a woman.

  Knowing how to protect herself against a physical assault was vital, even if it wasn’t a fact she wanted to face. He didn’t know if her ex—this Chris—would actually resort to violence, but it would be better for her to be prepared.

  Besides, knowing she could physically handle herself would empower her.

  He straightened and readied himself for an argument. ‘Self-defence classes have just become a mandatory requirement for the position you were offered this morning, Neen. It’s one of the things I came around to discuss with you.’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘Ooh, Rico D’Angelo, that’s a big, fat lie.’

  For a moment he thought she might even laugh. He’d like to see her laugh. He frowned and dragged his attention back to the matter at hand. ‘It was an oversight of mine that I forgot to mention it when I interviewed you. The fact is you’ll be working with disadvantaged youths. Some of those kids have been brought up by the scruffs of their necks.’

  ‘And violence is a language they know?’

  ‘Fluently.’

  He had no intention of staffing the café with anyone who had that kind of a question mark hanging over them, but... He stared at Neen and his blood ran cold. ‘I don’t think we’ll run into those kinds of problems, but you will be
dealing with teenagers.’

  ‘And teenagers can be hormonal and unpredictable?’

  He let out a breath when he realised she wasn’t going to put up a fight. ‘So can some of their parents and friends. It’s the world they’ve grown up in.’

  ‘Which you’re trying to change?’

  He read the scepticism in her eyes. He should be immune to such scepticism—he fought it every working day of his life—but for some reason hers burned and chafed him. He rolled his shoulders and tried to dismiss it.

  ‘The café budget will cover the cost of your self-defence classes.’ She looked as if she was about to argue and he held up a hand. ‘I insist. I’ll be the one choosing the trainer, and I’ll be receiving reports on your progress too.’

  She blinked.

  He’d make sure he chose the best. He couldn’t believe this hadn’t occurred to him before. If he could get more funding for future initiatives of the same nature, he’d make it an essential requirement for all his managers.

  ‘I’ll wait to receive the details from you, then.’

  She turned to survey Monty and he couldn’t help noticing how the sun picked out the lighter strands in her chestnut hair. ‘I can’t believe how much energy that dog has.’

  Monty still frolicked in the waves—chasing them as they receded, snapping at them and leaping over them as they rolled in. The dog’s utter physical joy in being alive struck him.

  He shook himself. What was he thinking? He was too busy these days for swimming and beachcombing. He set his jaw. And he didn’t regret it. Not one bit.

  He swung back to Neen. ‘In the meantime...’

  She raised an eyebrow.

  He’d make sure her class started asap—next week if he could arrange it—but... ‘It won’t hurt for you to have a couple of pointers now. Remember, if someone does attack you, your primary goal is to disable them long enough to get away. You don’t want to stick around and fight someone who’s bigger and more experienced than you are.’

  ‘Right.’

  He set her square on to him. ‘If your attacker comes at you from the front, like this—’ he made as if to grab her shoulders ‘—I want you to knock his arms away like this, then grab a fistful of his shirt and knee him in the groin as hard as you can.’

  She eyed him doubtfully. ‘As hard as I can?’

  ‘Believe me, any jerk who tries to grab you deserves everything you can throw at him.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And scream. Scream your head off as hard and as long as you can.’

  Nine times out of ten fear of discovery would have an assailant hightailing it for the hills. ‘Now turn around.’

  She did.

  ‘If an attacker grabs you from behind, like this—’ he seized her around the shoulders, pulling her hard back against him and pinning her arms to her sides ‘—I want you to—’

  He broke off as a growling, snarling dog hurtled towards them. Monty had been transformed from boisterous goof to frightening assassin in a blink, and Rico watched in frozen fascination.

  Neen, however, was caught by no such abstraction. Before he had the wit to push her behind him she’d reefed out of his hold and boomed, ‘No!’ at Monty, holding one hand straight out in front of her like a traffic cop.

  The dog skidded to a halt, kicking up sand.

  ‘Down!’ she commanded in a hard, loud voice, making a demanding downward motion with her hand.

  Monty whined and pawed at the sand.

  ‘Down!’ She repeated the hand signal.

  Monty lowered himself to the ground, resting his nose on his front paws, but his eyes remained glued to Neen.

  ‘Dogs work on a system of hierarchy,’ she told him in a much softer, more modulated voice.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ His heart-rate started to slow.

  ‘I need Monty to know that you’re higher in the food chain than he is, so he learns to treat you with respect.’

  He swallowed. ‘Happy to help out in any way I can.’

  ‘Shake my hand.’

  He did.

  ‘Now keep hold of it and bend down so I can kiss your cheek.’

  He did as she bade and her scent hit him hard—a mixture of strawberries and oakwood...and dog. Cool lips touched his cheek and something in his chest lurched. Suddenly every bad-boy impulse he’d spent the last ten years repressing roared into ear-splitting life.

  And then she moved away, although she kept hold of his hand. It gave him a chance to drag a steadying breath into his lungs. It was the beach. It had to be. All this sun and sand. It had been a long time since he’d stopped to enjoy either. And being here felt like a holiday.

  ‘Monty.’ She kept her voice soft and clicked her fingers. The dog immediately rose to nuzzle her hand. ‘Put your hand down to him, Rico, so he can smell it, remember it...and apologise.’

  Rico did as she said, not the least afraid Monty would bite him now. Neen’s confidence had filtered into him, and he knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who would put anyone at risk. Monty promptly licked Rico’s hand.

  ‘Good dog,’ Neen said, finally releasing Rico and giving Monty a lusty scratch all the way down his back.

  The dog groaned and arched against her. Rico didn’t blame him one little bit.

  ‘How come you know so much about dogs?’ he asked, in an attempt to take his mind off the curve of her hips in those jeans that she wore. The sun. The beach.

  ‘I grew up with them.’

  ‘But you don’t like them.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  He watched as she pulled a tennis ball from her pocket. ‘Okay, Monty, let’s really wear you out.’ And she threw it.

  Rico shook his head. ‘My teenagers aren’t going to know what’s hit them.’

  * * *

  Neen returned home from the beach with Monty early the next morning to find workmen waiting by her front door. Her palms turned clammy. She scanned the complex and its surrounds, but nothing looked out of place.

  Except for the workmen. Her hand tightened about Monty’s lead as she approached them.

  ‘Are you Ms Cuthbert?’ one of them asked. At her nod he said, ‘We’ve been booked to fit new screen doors, as well as security systems to each of the five apartments here.’

  She straightened. ‘Who hired you?’

  He glanced at his clipboard. ‘The real-estate agency responsible for these properties.’ He named the company.

  ‘May I see?’

  He handed the order form across to her. As he’d said, the agency’s name appeared in the requisite box, but she didn’t doubt for a single moment that Rico was behind this somehow. Exactly how escaped her, but she was starting to see he was the kind of man who got things done.

  ‘I’m Unit Three.’ She handed back the order form. ‘Shouldn’t you start at Unit One?’

  ‘The tenant in Unit One is away, and the real-estate agent isn’t available to open the place up to us until tomorrow. According to my records Unit Two is currently vacant so, again, we have to wait on the agent.’

  Audra’s apartment. Or at least it had been.

  ‘If you have any enquiries I’ve been told to direct you to the real-estate agency. Do you mind if we start work now? It should only take us an hour...two at tops.’

  ‘Not at all.’ She had no intention of looking such a gift horse in the mouth. She unlocked her front door and gestured inside. ‘Be my guest.’

  She sat in the courtyard with a pot of tea while Monty dozed in the patchy spring sunlight. On impulse she pulled out her phone and punched in the number Rico had given her.

  ‘D’Angelo,’ a voice barked without preamble, and for some reason she found herself having to fight back a smile.

  ‘Hello, Rico, it’s Neen here.’


  ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  It was a long time since anyone had made her feel so cared for.

  Her hand tightened about the phone. Wanting to be looked after, taken care of, loved, was what had got her into this trouble in the first place.

  ‘I...um...I just wanted to thank you. I don’t know how you managed it at such short notice, but the security company is here already.’

  He didn’t say anything and her scalp started to prickle with self-consciousness.

  ‘Rico?’ The self-consciousness turned into something more sinister. If this was one of Chris’s tricks... ‘I...if you didn’t organise for a new screen door and security system for me, you’d better let me know right now.’

  She’d have to ring the agency to check this was all aboveboard.

  Which was what she should’ve done in the first place! What on earth had prompted her to ring Rico? Because he’d made her feel cared for? Her throat burned. Hadn’t she learned her lesson?

  ‘The real-estate agent in charge of your block of units owes me a favour. I decided to call it in.’

  She sagged.

  ‘I’m afraid it’ll mean a slight increase in your rent.’

  She didn’t mind that in the least. ‘Well...’ She swallowed. ‘It was kind of you. I just...I wanted to thank you.’

  ‘I’m just protecting my investment. Did you get a chance to read through the contract?’

  She sensed his efforts to distance himself and it made her frown. Not that she’d expected yesterday’s confidences to have made them bosom buddies or anything, but she’d developed friendships with all her other employers. She didn’t know why Rico should be any different.

  But he was.

  She recalled the dark fire in his eyes, the way his hands had clenched yesterday when he’d said he would make a difference. She suppressed a shiver.

  ‘I did read over the contract. I made an amendment.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘I’m not signing a two-year contract, Rico. I thought I’d made that clear. I changed it to twelve months.’

  He didn’t say anything.