Taking Care of the Target

by Cindi Madsen

  She knew there were several types of lawyers, but no interest sparked when she thought about it. She pulled the heavy Accounting Information Systems textbook onto her lap. “Ever since I was young, my dad always talked about how important it was to get an education and set yourself up in a good career field. He was an accountant—good with numbers, not so much people. I’ve thought about following in his footsteps, and I’m not the best with people either, so—”

  “Are you kidding me? People love you. When you…” Vince’s mouth hung open for a moment, almost like he forgot what he was going to say. “I’ve only seen glimpses of you waitressing, but your customers’ eyes light up when you talk to them.”

  He’d come in a few times for dinner or dessert just before closing, so she supposed he had seen her in action. She did like how many different types she got to talk to in a day. She could do without the complainers or the snappers, but for the most part, she served happy, interesting people, and without that, she’d probably never push herself to interact with others.

  “The truth is, I don’t mind waitressing most days,” she said. “But I need a career, preferably in a field with more room for advancement.” She ran her hand over the blue accounting book, trying to get excited about digging into its contents. “What about you? You said you were looking into another position. Did you find a new job?”

  “I’ve been doing some security work on the side, and I’m looking into transitioning into it fulltime. But sometimes I think it’d be fun to start my own restaurant. Build a place from scratch and make a go of it.”

  “Well, one, that means I was kind of right about the bodyguard thing, and two, if you start your own restaurant, I’d totally come work for you.” She lowered her eyebrows. “Unless you think that’d get weird?”

  Now she was getting ahead of herself again, already working at his hypothetical restaurant.

  “I’m onboard with being able to boss you around.” He tugged the book out of her hands, tossed it aside, and pulled her onto his lap. “Kiss me. Now.”

  She hovered her mouth over his, pulling back when he tried to close the distance. “To be clear, I’m doing this because I want to, not because you told me to.”

  He reached up and twisted a strand of her hair around his finger. “I’m not really picky as to the reasons.”

  She closed the mere inches of space between them, sighing when their lips made contact. Maybe tonight will be the night. I’ll make a nice dinner, open a bottle of wine…

  Vince moved his lips to where her jaw met her neck and sucked lightly on her skin. She dug her fingernails into his arm, holding on as the world began to spin. His arousal twitched against her, growing harder by the second, and passion sparked and took hold.

  Maybe we’ll just skip dinner.

  He gripped her butt and hauled her tighter against him, groaning into her ear when she rocked her hips. The delicious friction made her shudder against him, and their lips met again in a fevered kiss.

  He stroked her tongue with his, and she sunk farther into his lap, enjoying the deep guttural sound he made in the back of his throat and the way it vibrated through her.

  But then his fingers wrapped around her hips, holding her in place as his breath sawed in and out of his mouth. She looked down at him, he looked up at her, and she didn’t know what just happened, because they’d been in the middle of something and evidently he was trying to put it on pause.

  He reached up and traced her bottom lip with his thumb, groaning again when she nipped at it. “Baby, I think…” He closed his eyes and let out a harsh exhale and an even harsher curse. When he opened them, he kept his gaze off her. “Did you wanna go out for dinner?”

  She almost said, No, I want to stay in. But his reaction had her second-guessing herself. “I planned on making dinner tonight.”

  “Want help?” Still not looking at her.

  She tried to shift into cooking mode, but her racing pulse didn’t quite get the memo. “Okay.” Slowly she climbed off him, trying not to read too much into it—obviously he was affected. The evidence was still there, tempting her to take her boldness a step farther.

  But she chickened out and moved into the kitchen.

  “I’ll be right back,” Vince said, and then he disappeared down the hall.

  ***

  Vince splashed cold water on his face—not that it helped much. It wasn’t like water could erase the memory of Cassie on top of him.

  Over the past week and a half, he’d crossed several ethical lines. Besides the few shifts he’d put in at Rossi’s while Cassie was at work so he wouldn’t go crazy, they’d spent most every spare moment together. Watching movies, kissing, cuddling, talking about everything and nothing, with a few necessary lies sprinkled in. More kissing. More almost crossing the line into taking things farther.

  Tonight he’d gotten lost in her for long enough to almost slip and ignore his last shaky ethical line in the sand about sex. She had today off, and he’d barely managed to wait until five to come over so he could forget who he was for a while. It was addictive.

  She was addictive.

  He stared at himself in the mirror, wondering how long he could face the guy in the reflection if he discarded his pathetic attempt at keeping things semi-honorable and just had sex with her before he lost the chance forever.

  What was one more line? Might as well go big or go home, right?

  Or maybe I should just tell her I can’t see her anymore. Watch her from a distance a little while longer, and then give in and tell Carlo I’ll be his number two so I’m still the first to know if anyone brings her up.

  He leaned his hands on the side of the sink and let his forehead fall against the medicine cabinet mirror, going back and forth, weighing the pros and cons. He tried to tell himself he could handle watching from afar, even if it’d be torturous to see but not hear her happy voice or the funny ways she put things… To look but not touch.

  What it really came down to was that he didn’t want to let her go yet.

  It’d hurt her, too, and if even a hint of sadness crept into her features, he’d instinctively want to do whatever it took to make it go away.

  Shit, shit, shit. One more splash of cold water and then he wiped his face on her towel, catching a whiff of coconut which did not help his current situation. He finished pulling himself together and headed back into the living room.

  Cassie was turned away, stretched as tall as she could go as she reached for a can on the top shelf of one of her kitchen cupboards. Her shirt lifted, exposing a sexy strip of skin. She’s certainly not going to make it easy to do the right thing.

  He was about to step in, but then she managed to get hold of it. She tossed the can of crushed tomatoes in the air, bumped it on her forearm and caught it, then spun to the can opener. She dumped it in a saucepan that, from the smell of it, had sautéing onion and garlic, and then grabbed a small spice container from another cupboard. She tossed it end over end, caught it behind her back, and then popped the red lid up with her thumb.

  “Wow. Dinner and a show.”

  She startled, the spice container hitting the oven and then landing on the floor, sending tiny green leaves out in a circle.

  Vince reached down and picked it up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No worries. Just toss it over—I didn’t actually get any basil in the pan.”

  He threw it, and she snatched it out of the air.

  “And I thought your cooking magic just came from ingredients,” he said.

  With a laugh, she stirred whatever heavenly sauce she had in the skillet. Another pot sat on the back burner, bubbling, but he couldn’t see inside of it. “When we first started tossing, I dropped everything, and our cans wouldn’t open right because the lids were all dented.”

  “We?”

  “My dad and me. After eating Mac and Cheese or Ramen noodles every night for years, I finally told him it was time for both of us to learn to cook. Right around that time, I�
��d…” She glanced down, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “I failed P.E. Like, it was me and all of the overweight kids lagging behind, dropping balls, and hanging on the bar with our arms shaking instead of being able to do pull-ups.

  “Part of it was because I needed glasses and just didn’t realize it.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “But mostly my coordination was crap and sports weren’t really my thing.”

  He’d seen her balance trays most servers didn’t dare take on. Not to mention the can tossing—he wondered if he could bump it up on his forearm and catch it like that.

  “While my dad and I cooked, we tossed cans around until I could catch them, flip them, and make food out of them.” A proud smile curved her lips. “Think I’ve got a career as a cook-slash-juggler?”

  Vince moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, thinking that she fit perfectly against him. “I’m not sure how well juggling chefs get paid, but I think you might consider culinary school. You obviously like to cook, and you’re good at it.”

  She spun around, her eyebrows all scrunched up, and he thought he’d said something wrong. Was telling a woman she could cook sexist these days? He’d say the same thing to a dude who could cook like that. He’d just do it without the hugging part.

  “Why didn’t I ever think of that? Every time I think about college I always picture myself ending up at a desk, even though it never really appealed to me. I guess I figured the right career path would magically jump out at me when the time was right. But culinary school…I’m totally looking into that.”

  Cassie tipped onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “You’re a genius.”

  “No one’s ever accused me of that before.”

  She made a cute little squeal noise and turned back to her sauce. “Salt,” she said, pointing at the shaker next to him. Figuring there’d be a mess if he hurled it too hard, he executed more of a soft lob. She easily caught it and added several shakes to the sauce. “Definitely more fun with two jugglers in the kitchen.”

  After a few minutes of stirring the simmering mixture, she lifted out a spoonful, blew on it, and sipped. Then she extended it to him. “Does it need more…something?”

  Vince tasted the red sauce—Rossi’s specialized in Italian dishes, and Cassie’s was still the best marinara he’d ever had. “It’s perfect.”

  She pressed her lips together, clearly deep in thought, and then her eyes widened. “Needs just a hint of fennel. Then it’ll be extra perfect.” The cupboard door opened a bit rough—he’d have to bring in a screwdriver and tighten the hinges—and she searched through all the plastic and glass containers.

  “Someday I’m going to have a fancy spice rack that’s super organiz—there it is.” She took out the fennel, flashed him a smile, and flipped the bottle end over end before adding a few shakes to the sauce.

  And he realized that sometime during the past week, she’d turned him into one of those sappy fools who’d do anything for their girl.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The hairs on the back of Cassie’s neck rose as she walked down the sidewalk, the instinctual, unmistakable feeling of being watched setting off alarms. A quick, subtle glance revealed a silver sedan a few cars back. Hadn’t it been parked in front of her apartment complex when she’d come out?

  Maybe I’m just being paranoid.

  Of course, the last time I thought that I got shot at. She cut across the block, detouring from her usual route—she was meeting Tom at the Deli, but it was only a couple of shops down from McCarthy’s, so the walk was the same, just about five minutes longer.

  She glanced behind her and let out a relieved breath when the car didn’t follow. One more block down; she checked over her shoulder.

  The same silver car turned the corner.

  Forgoing all attempts to be covert or play it cool, she jogged toward the busier street up ahead, her heartbeat rising to match the rapid thump of her footsteps. Aren’t you supposed to run in zig-zags if people shoot at you?

  Not that it would’ve worked the last time she’d been shot at.

  Holy shit, am I really going to be shot at again? Abandoning all worry of looking like a crazy person, Cassie sprinted full out. She made a sharp right and nearly plowed into a family of four.

  Cassie apologized profusely and then peeked around the corner of the building, keeping her body as covered as possible by the sturdy brick wall.

  The silver car was gone.

  She rolled flat against the wall, working to get her heart rate back to normal. Her hand trembled as she ran it halfway through her hair and rested it on the top of her head. I think I’m going crazy.

  She honestly didn’t know if the car just happened to be going her way, or if someone was watching her. It’s completely irrational to think someone would follow me, right?

  After being shot at, her trust in the general public was a bit shaky, and yes, it could be affecting her judgment. But her instincts screamed that something wasn’t right. Hadn’t been quite right since her accident, if she were being honest.

  If I would’ve taken Vince up on his offer to come get me, he’d know if that car was following me. Then again, if he’d picked me up, we’d be in his Jeep and the car probably wouldn’t follow us.

  Besides, Vince had only made the offer because he wanted to loom in the corner while she talked to Tom, and the last thing she needed was for him to start a fight with a cop over nothing.

  Her thoughts turned to Vince, the way they tended to do a lot these days, and she couldn’t help replaying last night. First he’d acted jealous and possessive, then there was the amazing make out session he’d abruptly stopped with no explanation, but then everything was fun and normal again as they’d cooked and ate dinner. Yet when he went to kiss her goodbye, it was uncharacteristically quick.

  He was still holding back, and she couldn’t figure out why.

  Maybe he just needs time. Hopefully he’ll eventually realize he can let me all the way in and we can move past…whatever we need to move past.

  Cassie cast one last glance around and then pushed into the deli. While it was a bit cool outside, the heat pumping through the deli seemed extreme. She shed her coat and draped it over an arm. Tom wasn’t there yet, and she checked the time on her phone. Thanks to running like a lunatic for part of her walk, she was a few minutes early.

  The sound of the opening door made her turn. Tom walked in wearing his police uniform. For some reason she hadn’t expected the uniform, which made it seem so official. But he was probably just on lunch break, while she hadn’t even started her workday.

  He surprised her by pulling her into a hug. “It’s good to see you,” he said.

  “Yeah, you too.”

  Definitely a good thing Vince isn’t here. Maybe he’d be fine, but that scary gleam that entered his eye when she mentioned this meeting told a different story. She’d like to say she was above his jealousy turning her on a little, but she’d be lying.

  Another thing she’d never experienced with any other guy.

  She pulled back, realizing that in thinking about Vince she’d been the one to extend the hug too long.

  “You look great,” he said, shooting her a wide grin. “As usual.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tom pulled out a seat for her at one of the nearby tables. The menus sat in the middle, and she lifted one and scanned the sandwiches, going back and forth between a couple of options. She’d just decided on the club when she lowered her menu and noticed the very distinct Jeep parked at the curb.

  She slapped the menu down on the table. Okay, I take back liking the possessiveness. He’s clearly trying to give me a panic attack.

  “Everything okay?” Tom asked.

  She propped her mouth into a smile, hoping that having to force it didn’t make her look like a crazy person. “Yeah. Totally. I’m just hungry and can’t wait to eat.”

  After she ordered her sandwich at the deli counter—and while Tom was distracted ordering his�
��she peered through the glass storefront of the deli, into Vince’s tinted window, trying to relay that he should not, under any circumstances, come inside.

  But since she couldn’t see his face, she had no idea if he got the message.

  ***

  Fucking cop.

  He was going to get Cassie in trouble—or worse. Vince probably should’ve hung back. Been discreet. Instead he’d parked right in front of the deli window, so that if anyone else was watching Cassie, they’d have to get out of their car to do it, and then he could intercept them.

  A silver Ford Taurus had driven by and slowed in front of McCarthy’s. Vince didn’t like it, but right now his hatred was mostly aimed at the cop, who was clearly there for more than checking up on Cassie’s medical condition.

  Cassie had seen the Jeep, too, so he was going to come off looking like a jealous boyfriend. Honestly, he felt like one. That hug lasted way too long, and if the pig put his hands on her one more time… He gritted his teeth, hating this out of control, helpless anger.

  She’s turning me into a lunatic. But if any of Carlo’s guys saw her with a cop, Carlo would give the order to take her out. I should’ve come up with a good reason to keep her from meeting with him, no matter what it took.

  He’d tried, but he’d had his hands full with smothering the urge to carry her into her bedroom and rip off her clothes.

  Don’t think about that, either. Just sit here and stare at the pig who’s going to get her killed.

  Vince looked up the guy this morning, found out his old man was a retired cop, and recognized the picture. He’d been in the back of the senior Duffy’s squad car before. Twice, actually. Once for stealing a couple of forties from a convenience store. He wouldn’t have gotten caught if Bobby didn’t also have to grab one, only to drop the bottle two steps from the exit. The cop took them down to the station and gave them a stern lecture he’d barely listened to, and then Carlo had picked them up.