by Cindi Madsen
Yesterday Cassie asked if he’d met a lot of lawyers. The answer was only one—Carlo’s balding lawyer who had come to the police station after ride number two. Vince had hotwired a car and taken a joyride, mostly because he wanted to drive a Mustang. He’d only been borrowing it and fully intended to return it, only he got a little too drunk and ended up staying all night at the party, where the police had spotted the “stolen” car.
That offense earned him more than a lecture from the senior Officer Duffy. In the end, he received a fine and several hours of community service. Being under eighteen had helped. Being Carlo Rossi’s nephew and having him pull strings had helped even more.
When Cassie first mentioned law school, for a brief moment he thought he could spin that career to his advantage. Convince the guys it’d be good to have her in their corner, and then he wouldn’t have to let her go.
That bubble of hope popped when she declared she could never defend criminals. Which of course he would’ve realized if he’d been thinking about it logically instead of selfishly. He even liked that about her. It was part of what made her different from other women he’d been with, but it was also what made him so wrong for her.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it.
Cassie: WTH are you doing?
He grinned. Even with abbreviations, she went for the less-vulgar, sweeter version.
Vince: Just enjoying the view, sweetheart
Cassie: This is straight up crazy. I can’t focus with you there. Go away.
Vince: I will as soon as I see you safely to work. Unless he puts his hands on you. Then you’ll see me a little sooner
Through the window, he saw her glance down at her phone and shake her head. Surveillance just got more interesting. Another car would’ve been more discreet when it came to Cassie noticing, but if any of Carlo’s boys passed by, they’d recognize his Jeep and move on. So like it or not, she got his stalker personality.
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment and then lifted his phone and thumbed another text.
Vince: You look hot by the way
He stared at his screen, nearly giving up on a reply when it chimed.
Cassie: You and I are in a fight.
Vince: This all could’ve been avoided if you’d just canceled
Cassie: FIGHT!!!!
“Ah, shit.” Vince leaned back in his seat. He still wasn’t moving. The pig gestured with his arms, his sandwich in one hand, and Vince wished he could hear what he was saying. What could possibly be so important that it was worth getting her put back on the mafia hit list? Of course, she didn’t know that was a risk.
Possibly the pig didn’t either. From the looks of things, he was just interested in Cassie.
She’s probably going to be pretty pissed I didn’t leave. If she had any idea how much he was holding back the urge to march in there, tell that fucking cop she belonged to him before throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her out, she’d congratulate him on his restraint.
***
Cassie thought about bringing up the drive-by. She supposed she should’ve thought of calling Tom that night, but everything had happened so quickly.
It’s probably not his department anyway.
“So,” she said, trying to ignore Vince’s hulking presence. Crazy how she could sense him so strongly even though she couldn’t see him. “I’ve enjoyed catching up, but when you called, I got the feeling there was something you weren’t saying. About my accident?”
Tom shuttered his eyes, a quick change from how open they’d been only a moment ago. “Nothing big. Just follow-up questions about your memories. Like, do you remember anything right before the accident? Possibly why you were in such a hurry that you didn’t see a huge truck? Has anything come back at all?”
He’d gone into interrogation mode, his serious cop face on.
“No, but I got this creepy vibe when I went to the area where I was hit.” She shuddered as the sense of wrongness that had her fleeing the area as soon as possible hit her again. “No memories of the accident or any of my time here in Jersey have come back to me. I think they’re gone for good.” She wiped her fingers on her napkin and folded her arms across the table. “What’s this about, Tom?”
“Like I said, just a bit of follow-up. You should see the paperwork I have to fill out.” The smile he pulled out was plastic. “If you remember anything—anything at all—will you do me a favor and call?”
“Sure,” she said, bothered by his sudden dodgy-ness. Why wouldn’t he just give it to her straight? Men and their irritating need to hold back.
She glanced at Vince’s Jeep. He could use a little holding back in other areas—namely, the showing-up-to-my-lunch-meeting one.
Tom pushed the brown paper his sandwich had come in to the side and leaned in, his features soft again. “To be honest, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you…”
Cassie’s spine stiffened. Oh no. This better not be going where she thought it was. She’d assured Vince that Tom was simply a nice cop who’d helped her out and had become a friend. Vince’s skepticism had been so clear, and now it looked like he was right.
And of course he was watching it all through the freaking window. Heaven help me. And Tom—he might need help, too. And Vince when he gets arrested. Better just go ahead and help us all, and as soon as possible would be great.
Tom covered her hand with his and jerking it away seemed too rude, so she simply stared at it, a car wreck waiting to happen. “I care about you, Cassie.”
“Yeah, I’m so glad we’re friends, because you helped me through a really rough time.” She hoped he’d take the hint. Back off. Slow the Holy Shit Train right down.
“I wanna take you out.”
A glint of light caught her eye—Vince’s Jeep door swinging open. Her blood pressure shot into the danger zone, and she slid her hand away and folded it in her lap. “I’ve, uh, been dating someone. It hasn’t been very long, but it’s getting pretty serious.”
Seriously crazy with a cherry on top.
Vince leaned against his Jeep, folding his massive arms across his chest, and she could feel his steady stare against her tightening skin.
Tom sighed. “Guess I should’ve made my move earlier.”
Cassie simply smiled at that. The truth was, she probably would’ve dated him and been perfectly happy. But now she couldn’t imagine anyone but Vince. Even though the simultaneous urge to hit him with something right then was strong, and she didn’t think she’d ever been so mad at anyone before.
“Well, if he gives you any trouble, you call me. I could even do a background check if you want. Make sure he really is a good guy.”
A nervous laugh spilled from her lips. “Oh, that’s okay. Anyway, I should probably get to work,” she said, jumping to her feet, despite still having an hour to kill.
Or a boyfriend to kill. Either one.
Before she could sidestep it, Tom gave her another hug. “You call me if you ever need anything. I mean it.”
“I will,” she said. After all, a friendly officer of the law might come in handy. “And if there’s any change with my memories, I’ll definitely let you know. Thanks again.”
She grabbed her purse and coat and practically ran to get to the door first. Luckily Tom was taking his time because she doubted she’d make a very sturdy line of defense.
She strode over to Vince, her anger growing stronger and hotter by the second. “In the Jeep. Now.” She rounded the hood and climbed into the passenger seat, relieved when Vince climbed inside and closed the door.
“What the hell was that?” she asked, throwing up her arms.
“Would you believe I’m just that concerned with your safety?”
“He’s a cop, Vince. I think that makes me pretty safe.”
“Well, I don’t. I think…” He clenched his jaw and glanced at the ceiling, as if he’d find patience there. Then he blew out his breath and turned his multicolored brown eyes on h
er. The concern in them took the edge off her annoyance. “I can’t just sit back, Cassie. The security work I’ve been doing has made me cautious, and I needed to see for myself that you were safe. I’ve always tried to keep people at a distance, but you broke through, and now I’m a mess.”
She blinked at him, warmth working its way through her chest. Did he just confess to caring? To being as crazy about her as she was about him? How’d she get so lucky for this amazing guy to show up at the perfect time in her life? Her very own protector, and now they’d tiptoed into something more.
“If you even knew how badly I wanted to go in there and make sure he knew you were mine…” His eyes locked onto hers, the dark, possessive edge to them making her breath lodge in her throat. “But I refrained. One more second to that hug and I would have lost my shit, but I—”
Cassie stretched over the console and crushed her lips to his. She pulled back enough to study his rugged features and ran her hand down the side of his face. “I so shouldn’t be rewarding this behavior.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning in so that his breath mixed with hers. “I totally learned my lesson.”
***
Jim lifted his ringing phone. He’d switched cars and sat on the street a few blocks down from Rossi’s, waiting and waiting for something, when nothing seemed to be the only thing he got.
He’d hoped it’d be Mancini, calling to say he had a solid lead for them to follow, but the number was unfamiliar. “McVee.”
“It’s Officer Duffy.”
Yesterday during endless hours of surveillance, he pulled up Cassandra Dalton’s accident report again. He didn’t know why he couldn’t quite let it go, even when the facts pointed to her being a dead end. When he found Officer Tom Duffy’s name on the reports, he put in a call to his precinct. “You talk to her?”
“We met for lunch.”
Getting information out of him was like yanking teeth—actually, all that took was pliers and strength, so he’d rather go with that. Between his mentioning that he’d personally escorted Cassandra from the hospital and getting defensive when Jim asked about her and her condition, he suspected Officer Duffy had grown fond of Miss Dalton. “So?”
“Tell me what this is about, and I’ll fill you in.”
Jim sighed. “Like I told you, it’s classified.”
“You feds love tossing that around, don’t you? Makes you feel big and powerful and more qualified than those of us who are out beating the streets all day long. If you just shared information, maybe we’d be able to help each other.”
“Look, I’m happy to go question the girl myself if you refuse to cooperate. I thought you’d be less invasive.”
“Just leave her alone.” The growl in Officer Duffy’s voice was more satisfactory than scary; the cop did like the waitress. “Her condition hasn’t changed. She has no memory of the accident or what happened before it, but she told me she’d call me if she remembered anything. If that happens, you better let me know what the hell is going on. If she’s in danger—”
“It’s just procedure.” Jim hesitated, going back and forth and deciding a little reassurance never hurt anyone. Especially if he might need favors from said anyone again. “She’s not in danger.”
After all, if Carlo Rossi was after her, she’d be dead already.
Chapter Eighteen
During the hour Cassie spent with Vince before work, she went back and forth on whether to tell him about the car that might or might not have been following her. Obviously he took her safety to the extreme, slightly jealous level, and she didn’t want to make him any more of “a mess,” as he’d put it.
But if she didn’t say anything, she’d be a mess. Sharing is caring, even if it’s paranoia, right?
“I need to tell you something,” she said, turning to face him just short of the entrance to McCarthy’s. Vince’s posture stiffened, and she put her hand on his biceps and brushed her thumb over the curve to try to convey a calmness she didn’t exactly feel. “It’s probably nothing, but when I walked to the deli today, I thought that maybe someone might be following me.”
“Did you get a good look at the driver? What was the make and model of the car? Did you see a gun?”
“No. I don’t know, it was silver with four doors. And I didn’t see a gun. I think the windows were up, but I didn’t stop for a look.”
“Was it a silver Ford Taurus?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. And like I said, I don’t know if it was following me for sure. It’s probably just me being paranoid after what happened the night you and I met, but it turned after I did, and I ran, but then it was gone, so it’s probably nothing.” She bit at her thumbnail. “Don’t freak out or anything, ‘kay?”
Every line of his body went rigid, the muscles under her hand turning rock solid.
“It looks like you’re freaking out,” she said.
“This is me not freaking out. If I were freaking out, I’d haul you back to the Jeep and refuse to let you go to work. Now that I think about it, that’s a good idea.”
He reached for her, and she put a hand to his chest to hold him back. “You promised you were going to work on the possessive thing and trusting my judgment. Remember?”
“Yeah, that was when we were making out in my Jeep, and I was trying to keep us out of a fight. I never actually agreed.”
Her mouth dropped open. After kissing him, she thought they had a productive conversation about how she understood why he might be overly cautious, but for things to work, they’d need to trust each other’s judgment and each other in general. “I guess you just delayed the fight till now, then.”
“From now on, I’m taking you to and from work.” He nodded to himself, and she wondered if he’d even heard her last sentence.
“That’s just silly. You can’t put your entire life on hold to be my bodyguard.”
“Sure I can.”
“We just talked about this.” She exhaled a frustrated breath, wishing she could go back and un-mention the car. “Let’s think about this rationally. Why would anyone be after me? It makes no sense. Look, I’ll just drive my car for a little while until I stop seeing everyone as a threat. It’ll be fine.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist, drew her to him, and pressed his lips to hers. “I’ll pick you up tonight. Don’t leave without me, okay?”
She curled her hand into his shirt. “Don’t do anything crazy.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. Then he kissed her again, taking a moment to linger and drag his tongue across her lower lip. “And don’t worry. As soon as I eliminate the threat, we’ll have long discussions about boundaries and trust and whatever you want. Now, have a good day at work. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Then he was off, and all she could do was go into McCarthy’s and hope that “eliminate” was security code for “calmly look into.”
***
A couple of phone calls confirmed Sal’s whereabouts; it hadn’t been him following Cassie this morning, because no one could be in two places at once. Vince highly doubted Sal would cross Carlo again and hire a third-party to do it, but he couldn’t be sure.
When Cassie had stormed out of the deli and demanded him into the Jeep, eyes afire, he’d known better than to tell her she looked sexy as hell pissed off, even though it was true. He’d been sure she was about to solve his dilemma by dumping him on his ass. After all, to her, he was a guy she’d only met not quite two weeks ago.
The dread that’d immediately risen up made it clear being apart wouldn’t solve his conflicted feelings about being with her. It’d only send him over the edge that much faster. Under usual circumstances, he wouldn’t have followed her, and he would have “trusted her judgment,” but once he’d seen her with the cop, the possessiveness wasn’t an act.
Watching him put his hand on Cassie’s, making it clear he wanted more than friendship, had sent toxic jealousy burning through Vince’s gut, and he’d been out of his Jeep before he could rei
gn himself in. He’d been a hair away from charging in there and knocking the pig out, his entire body buzzing with the desire to do just that.
Maybe I am just like my dad, Carlo, and his thugs. Anger and the desire to use his fists certainly came faster than it should, which made him the wrong guy for Cassie.
But the self-analysis would have to wait until he found whoever was following her and make sure they stopped.
Because that was one job he was perfectly suited for.
He made a pass around the block, checking every silver four-door—and there were a lot, although none were manned—and looking for the Taurus he’d noticed earlier. When he came up empty, he parked a few blocks from McCarthy’s so he could watch the street and the ones that fed into it, and got out his phone to check in with Carlo.
“Yeah?” Carlo answered, and then, “You did not just fucking throw a glass at my head.”
A muffled shattering noise came through, followed by an angry scream from Allegra—Vince assumed anyway. When she screeched, “Is that her?” it confirmed it.
“There’s no one else, angel. You keep me as busy as three women would with all of your personalities.”
More crashing came over the line, and Carlo swore. “Just a minute, Vince.”
Ah, the always fun “are you cheating on me?” fight. Vince and Bobby witnessed a few firsthand when they lived in the house. About once a year, Allegra decided Carlo was cheating on her, usually because one of his capo’s wives or her other friends found out they were being cheated on, and/or he’d been working late nights. Not that Vince made it a priority to know who any of the men slept with, but anyone could see Carlo adored Allegra. She was his second wife, and while he’d cheated on the first with Allegra, as far as Vince knew, he was faithful to her. Despite the fact that she was, well, kind of psychotic.
She’d resented the hell out of having to take care of Vince and Bobby, even though they were mostly grown already. Motherly just wasn’t in her skill set.
Vince watched the street, focused on the passing cars and people, until Carlo came back on the line. “Women. I tell you, you’re lucky you’ve never been in love. Everything’s calm one day and then you’re walking into a shitstorm because you glanced at someone in a low-cut dress during dinner.”
