Taking Care of the Target

by Cindi Madsen

  “No, and she hasn’t gotten a call from Rossi’s about the waitress position, either, so it looks like having her work there as a mole is a bust.”

  Mancini’s shoulders deflated, and Jim fought the urge to let defeat take his down, too. “Don’t worry, kid. Little things lead to big things. We just gotta step up our game.”

  On the outside he tried to convey the we’ll-get-them vibe, but inside he was starting to think they’d never catch a break.

  A lot of threads led to Cassandra Dalton—too many to be a coincidence. With Mancini made, Jim would have to find a time when she wasn’t with Vince DaMarco. Maybe he’d swing by that restaurant where she worked, see how much she knew about her boyfriend. If she was clueless, he’d shed a little light on the situation. That should motivate her to help, but if she ended up being in on it, he’d find a way to exploit that, too.

  No more being scared to make a move for fear of spooking Carlo Rossi and his boys. It was time to take things to the next level. Create a little chaos, let the sharks circle, and as soon as they got a drop of evidence, attack with everything they had.

  Chapter Twenty

  Even though he highly doubted he’d see anyone he knew in this neighborhood, Vince still did a quick sweep of the restaurant as the hostess led him and Cassie to a table.

  Her sexy black dress clung to her curves, and her strappy heels made her several inches taller, adding extra definition to her amazing legs. He helped her into a chair and angled his seat so he could see the entrance like the paranoid lunatic he was becoming. That was what happened when you suspected the “private investigator” wasn’t completely honest. That guy reeked of cop. Fresh cop, but still.

  Some cops went the P.I. route, but usually after years of being on the force. His story about a classmate trying to find Cassie didn’t make sense, either. Yes, she’d moved and had a new phone, but surely they’d have her email address. Even if they didn’t, what college kid would shell out money to find a girl who suddenly stopped going to class? Unless it was some dude who was madly in love with her, which he had no problem buying, but Vince figured he would’ve stopped by the restaurant to find her, and he would’ve definitely noticed that. Same thing if she had a close girlfriend.

  The guy’s story didn’t add up. The question was, had he been watching Cassie to get to him, or just trying to get to Cassie? And why?

  I shouldn’t have questioned him in front of her. What would I have done if the guy said Carlo sent him? But his uncle would never send a pig, even a former one. Vince had been too focused on finding out who he was to think things through.

  Something’s not right.

  “Hey? Where’d you go?” Cassie asked, waving a hand in front of him.

  “That’s my line,” he said before remembering it wasn’t anymore, because last time it triggered a déjà vu sensation from her.

  “And zoning out is usually my thing.”

  He reached across the table and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. The thin straps of her dress looked like they’d snap with a quick tug, and he desperately wanted to try it, even as he reminded himself he shouldn’t. The bright pink necklace matched the inside of her glasses and her attention-grabbing shade of lipstick. “Well, I’m back now, and holy shit is my date hot.”

  A blush crept across her cheeks. “The glasses don’t ruin the effect?” She pushed them up her nose. “Do you think I’d look better with contacts? Then the glasses wouldn’t get in the way, say, when we were kissing, either.”

  No more watching her slide her glasses up her nose? He liked it when they were slightly crooked after he kissed her, too. He’d seen her without them, of course, like when she took them off to clean the lenses with her shirt, so he knew it was a win-win. He also knew enough about women to tread lightly.

  “I think you’re sexy with and without them.” Would she find the hot librarian comparison a compliment, or would she be offended? When in doubt, avoid. “And I’m a good enough kisser to work around them,” he joked. “But whatever makes you happy.”

  “I know tons of people have contacts, and—in theory—I’d get used to them, but it really icks me out thinking of sticking my finger in my eye and having this object floating around in there.”

  “Then keep the glasses. Like I said, hot.”

  A waiter came and took their food order. Once he left, Cassie leaned in, testing the straps of her dress. “So, since I had a bit of a crap day at work, I started thinking more about your suggestion, and I looked into culinary schools. Get this, if I went to the Culinary Institute of America, I could say I graduated from the CIA. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

  He grinned and then quickly glanced around. Yeah, as long as no one he knew thought the CIA was getting involved, it was cool. “Can CIA people date guys like me? I doubt it.”

  She laughed, her eyes sparkling. “It’s a four year program, but at least I’d be working toward a career I like instead of just spinning my wheels. The CIA is in New York, though. As are most of the other culinary schools.” Her smile faded. “New York’s over an hour away. It’d be a long commute from here, even with Amtrack, so…”

  The way she looked at him made it clear she was factoring him into her decision. The best possible thing for her was to get far, far away from here. “Are there other locations?”

  “California or Texas.”

  “Those places are nice and warm. I bet the cost of living is less than New York. At least in Texas. Probably less crime, too.”

  She nodded, her disappointment clear. “But I’d miss fall. And crime-free cities are a fairy tale.” She fiddled with the linen napkin on the table. “I-I get that New York would be expensive, and it’s a bit of a drive, but…”

  When it came to getting away from the mess with his uncle, her moving was the perfect solution. Out of sight, out of mind. He should not, under any circumstances, think about how it meant she’d be far away from him, where he could never check on her.

  He thought about that moment in the Jeep when she said, “I see you. The real you. Even if you don’t.”

  She’d slayed him all over again, slicing his chest right open. He was afraid she did and didn’t all at the same time. He wanted to be who she saw, but he just wasn’t, and he didn’t know how to break it to her. Especially when she’d seen at least some of the evidence and, by some amazing miracle, hadn’t run.

  The waiter chose that moment to bring their food, dragging out the elephant in the room to the point it was standing on the table between them. Once they were alone again, he reclaimed her hand.

  “I think we should go,” he said. “California or Texas. When can we leave?”

  “You’re not serious,” she said.

  Hell, am I? A life somewhere else with Cassie called to him. Maybe if he could find a way to leave after Carlo got wrapped up in business as usual and forgot about her. She could go get set up, and he’d follow her a couple of months later. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing it. A little house. Coming home every day to her, listening as she filled him in on how her “CIA” training was going, watching her juggle ingredients in the kitchen as she tested out the new dishes and techniques she’d learned…

  Eventually they could start up their own restaurant. He’d do the management, she’d cook.

  But what would happen to Bobby next time he landed himself in trouble? Vince didn’t even know where his little brother was right now, which always worried him. Part of him wanted to say Bobby’d had enough chances, but it didn’t change the fact that he was partially to blame for getting him into that lifestyle, or that his screw-ups could get him killed if Vince wasn’t there to intervene.

  Even without him in the equation, he doubted Carlo would wish him well and let him leave without a fight.

  Every way he tried to spin it, being with him put her in more danger.

  Vince lifted his eyes to Cassie’s. “I want to be. But…I have a brother. I’m not sure I could leave him behind. Honestly, I only hear from him when
he’s in trouble, which he gets himself into frequently, and if I wasn’t here to help him, I worry about what would happen.”

  She nodded, her dangly silver earrings catching the light. “So maybe just New York? Really this is just the dream stage of talking, where the idea’s shiny and new, before reality steps in and tells me I can’t get in… or afford tuition even if I did.”

  “You’re going.” He squeezed her hand. “Cassie, promise me you’ll make it happen. Please don’t let me hold you back.” She opened her mouth and then closed it, like she was looking for an excuse. “Promise.”

  “I promise I’ll try,” she said. “That’s the best I can do.” The fierce look she added made him think she was telling him that if she accepted him for him, he had to accept her for her.

  As soon as he broke things off, she’d be more motivated. Maybe even go for the farther location. It’d be best for her in the end.

  “Vince…” She slipped her fingers between his. “I don’t know how to say this without it coming across as too much, and I don’t want to freak you out. But I’m enjoying…” With her free hand, she motioned between them. “Whatever this is. I feel like you’re the only person I even know. I’m so used to being alone, and it’s nice to not be. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

  The words stung, each one a dart to the chest that radiated guilt. Because while she knew him better than anyone in a lot of ways, she didn’t really know him at all.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Allegra was suffocating Carlo, and after three days of never leaving the house so he could prove he only had eyes for her, he escaped to Rossi’s. Most restaurants weren’t equipped with offices this large, which made him all the more grateful for it when he needed space. His great-grandfather bought the older brick building when he first settled in New Jersey, and it’d worked very well for the family business—both the legitimate restaurant side and the less legal, higher paying side.

  Carlo had just leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to enjoy the blessed silence when the knock on his door jerked him upright. Che palle, what is it now?

  Sal poked his head inside. Oh, good. The gnat.

  He strolled on in, sat in the chair across from Carlo, and propped his feet on his desk.

  Carlo stared at the boots until Sal got the message and removed them. “What do you want?”

  “I was just wondering where Vince was? Sal could’ve taken care of Cassie in a day.”

  “Why don’t you do your job and let me worry about Vince? And Cassie for that matter.” He’d put Sal on all the shitty jobs for a week after his last stunt, but instead of complaining the entire time, he’d brought in twenty percent more money. So while he needed to be reminded of his place once in a while, Carlo couldn’t deny he got things done.

  “Sure thing, Boss.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “It’s just I got to thinking…”

  Carlo gripped the arms of his chair, already regretting this. He was about to tell him to get the hell out and not bug him again when Sal said, “Did you ever notice the way Vince looked at Cassie?”

  Carlo narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Sal held up his hands. “It might be nothing. I mean, I asked her out, too, and we all agreed she was a pretty girl. But I think Vince has a thing for her. He’s insisted on staying out of the business, and then suddenly Cassie’s involved and he’s volunteering? Now he’s spending all this time with her. Aren’t you worried he might get his allegiances mixed up?”

  The suggestion dug under Carlo’s skin, leaving it itchy and irritated. “Vince doesn’t want her to suffer. A sentiment I share,” he said, although now he was trying to remember how Vince acted around her. He’d seen them talk now and then—normal considering they’d worked together—and she’d laughed and smiled, but she was a friendly girl, like that with everyone. It was why his customers liked her so much, too. “That’s also my nephew you’re talking about, so you’re walking a fine line. You think I don’t know my own flesh and blood?”

  “Just thought I should mention it in case you didn’t know, that’s all.” Sal stood and wrapped his hands around the back of the chair he’d vacated. “He’s never killed anyone before, either. Notice he always steps away before it happens? I just don’t think he has it in him.”

  “I’m pretty sure he would’ve killed you if I hadn’t pulled him off.”

  Sal’s hand went to his neck, and anger flickered through his eyes. This was about revenge. Vince had tried to squish the gnat, so he’d decided to come buzzing.

  Carlo pulled the remote out of his desk, eyeing the flat screen he’d installed last year. “Like I told you boys, Cassie’s to be left alone. Vince is on it, and the last thing we need right now is to draw extra attention to ourselves. It does me no good to get arrested for conspiracy to commit murder to avoid a murder rap, does it? You think I got to where I am by making bad calls?”

  “No, Boss.”

  Carlo leveled Sal with his hard stare. “You fucking remember that next time you come in here and kick your dirty shoes up on my desk like you own the place.”

  Sal scurried out of the office, and Carlo slammed his fist down on his desk, making the remote jump. All he wanted was ten damn minutes to himself. Now he had to sit and second-guess the one guy he knew he could rely on.

  He dug into his desk, took out a cigar, and lit it, giving the health code the middle finger.

  He leaned back and held in the smoke before slowly blowing it out. Angelo gave him the restaurant reports last night, and while they’d been messy as shit, Rossi’s hadn’t taken in what it usually did since Vince cut back his hours.

  So if he got his way and Vince took his rightful spot at his side, he’d need to hire a competent manager. He made enough through the other side of the business that it didn’t matter much, but the better the restaurant did, the easier it was to not have to hide the fact that he had money.

  He didn’t like to hide it.

  After a few more puffs of his cigar, he returned to the Vince question. I swear I talked to that girl more than Vince did. I’m the one who hired her, too. He’d conducted an impromptu interview when she dropped off her application because there was just something about her. The bashful smile, the way she took the jokes he made in stride and quipped back, even if it was at half-volume. Despite what Allegra refused to fully believe, he’d never stepped out on their marriage. Cassie was pretty and as sweet as they came, but her waitressing experience was why he made a snap judgment and hired her on the spot.

  Come to think of it, Vince was all put out when he told him he hired someone himself. Later his nephew admitted she was the best waitress they had. That hardly translated into him being interested in her, though.

  Women flocked to Vince, but he’d never been the settling down type, another thing that made him perfect for this biz. He wouldn’t have to deal with glasses being thrown at his head when he noticed another woman, as if looking were the same as touching.

  Carlo shook his head and returned to the point. Am I fishing for a reason to not look closer at Vince? Or to not kill Cassie?

  Honestly, he was relieved when Vince assured him she didn’t remember anything. Most people he killed had it coming. Once in a while, people were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he had to take care of it, regardless of his personal feelings.

  If Sal had basically accused him of being soft in that area, what were the other men thinking? Kindness looked like weakness.

  Carlo debated for a moment and then took out his burner phone and called Vince.

  “Hey,” he said when Vince answered—nice and quick, which was a good sign. “What’s the name of the restaurant where the girl works?”

  The silence took more time than he liked.

  “Sorry, I got distracted. She works at a seafood and steak place downtown.”

  Carlo tapped the ashes off the end of his cigar. Purposely vague? Or distracted? “What’s the name?” he aske
d again, holding back his anger to avoid raising suspicion.

  Damn gnat, making me bait my own nephew.

  “Uh, McCormick’s.” A rustling noise came over the line. “Look, I’m hands deep in the Jeep’s engine right now. Is there something you need, or can we talk later?”

  “Just wanted that information.”

  “But everything’s on hold till after her doctor’s appointment, right?”

  Carlo tapped a finger against the edge of his desk. “Did you make a decision about my offer?”

  “No. But honestly, I miss running the restaurant. I feel at home there.”

  Carlo clenched his jaw. Most guys would jump at the opportunity. He got that Vince’s dad died right in front of him, but that was the world they lived in. He’d been patient, waiting for him to come around, but he was sick of being patient.

  The clanging of metal against metal made Carlo pull the phone from his ear. Vince swore and the phone clattered, then the line went dead. He didn’t doubt that his nephew was working on the Jeep. But Vince seemed a little too concerned about his wanting that restaurant name and that the plan was still to wait.

  Or maybe he was reading too much into it. But he didn’t get to where he was by being stupid.

  Now he was trying to remember the last time Vince had a female hanging around. One usually showed up here and there. At the restaurant. At family gatherings. Nothing that ever lasted long, just casual semi-relationships. But he couldn’t recall there being anyone since Cassie started at Rossi’s.

  Swearing under his breath, Carlo rested his cigar on the ashtray and turned to his computer. When he typed in “McCormick’s,” he found a link about spices and a restaurant called McCormick and Schmick’s Seafood and Steak, but they only had locations in Atlantic City and Bridgewater, New Jersey. No Trenton.

  He did a search for restaurants in Trenton, getting more and more pissed as he scanned through the results without seeing it. Finally, he picked up the burner phone and called Sal.