Disorderly Conduct (The Anna Albertini Files Book 1)

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “Didn’t think so.” He sighed, and a light of what might be admiration glimmered in his eyes. “You were a tough little thing, even way back when. For now, get off my case, and we’ll call it even. Deal?”

  “Why?” I whispered.

  His jaw clenched. “Because people are ending up dead, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” For the first time, I caught a glimpse of the angry and vulnerable boy he’d been at sixteen. “You’re the only good thing I’ve ever done in my life. You have to stay safe.”

  The sweetness behind the plea caught me hard and fast. “I can help you. Whatever you’ve done, I can help you find a way out.” It was my turn to save him. “Tell me everything, and I’ll go to bat for you.” Maybe he wasn’t really guilty. Maybe he was just an accomplice who could get immunity. Or at least a reduced sentence. “Please.”

  He was around the car before I could blink, towering over me. “I don’t want your help. Got it?”

  I looked up, way up into his face, reminded once again of his size. An energy cascaded from him, angry and tense. Oddly sexy. “No.” I’d do my job within the law, but if there was a way to help him, I’d find it. “Tell me your side of the story.”

  “My side?” His left eyebrow rose. “There’s nothing I can say that makes my life all right for you to fix, so stop. You honestly have no idea what you’ve walked into.” His jaw clenched hard enough I could see it.

  “Really?” I countered, poking him in the chest. “My boss was just shot right in front of me. I think I have a clue.”

  “You don’t.” In a shift of muscle, he plucked me right off the ground to sit on the hood of my car.

  The air sliced all funny in my chest, and I gaped at him. “What are you doing?”

  He leaned in; his hands planted on either side of my hips. “Showing you that you’re totally out of your depth. You’re in the middle of nowhere with a guy out on felony bond after having left a club business where fifteen guys would provide an alibi if I needed one.” His head jerked slightly toward the car. “Do you even have a gun in there?”

  “Always.” I probably should’ve been scared, because every word he’d said was true. But I wasn’t. Oh, my entire central nervous system misfired like a supernova, but none of that was fear. Maybe a dollop of caution with a whole boatload of curiosity. “You won’t hurt me.”

  His nostrils flared and he straightened. “Damn it.” This close, his eyes were a myriad of different blue hues. “I won’t hurt you, but I can’t keep you from being hurt. What we do—this is too big to protect anyone as nosy as you are from. Just trust me.”

  I couldn’t answer him, because I was going to try and save him if possible. First, I needed facts. “Tell me the whole story.”

  “No.” He looked me over, head to toe, his gaze penetrating.

  I tried not to squirm and looked back, knowing I was totally losing this staring contest.

  Then he shocked me by running both hands through my hair and messing it up more. His touch was slightly rough with a whole lot of heat.

  “What are you doing?” I swatted his hands away.

  He leaned back and studied me again before twisting the neckline of my T-shirt. His calloused fingers brushed the bare skin of my chest, and I couldn’t help a shiver. The caress danced down my skin with a wave of heat.

  I slapped him again. “What the hell?”

  “The guys don’t know who you are, but if they ever do, I’d rather they think we were out here fuckin’ and not talking’,” he muttered, checking over the rest of me.

  Heat blazed into my cheeks. “Oh, for goodness sakes.” The idea of sex with Aiden was one I’d had over the years. That was imaginary Aiden and not this real-life devil. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure I could handle him. I glanced down at my twisted shirt. “Happy now?”

  He stepped back and looked me over, his mouth pursing. “No.”

  Then, against all possibilities, he moved back in, his rough palm skimming along my jaw. I started to argue, and his mouth covered mine.

  Shock blasted through me followed by a wave of heat. His thumb pressed against my jaw, and I opened my mouth. He swept in, kissing me, pushing me so I had to struggle to keep from falling back onto the hood. Every kiss I’d ever had, even in law school, pooled into memories of a girl kissing a boy.

  This moment was all man kissing woman.

  I groaned low, kissing him back, arousal zinging through me faster than I would’ve ever thought possible. He went even deeper, and I completely lost myself in him.

  Then he released me.

  I gasped for air, my mind fuzzing, my body wide awake and ready to go.

  He ran a thumb over my still tingling and no doubt swollen bottom lip. “Now I’m happy,” he murmured, his eyes an unfathomable blue and his expression unreadable. “You can drive me back now.”

  Chapter 12

  In Silverville, for my family, the first Sunday of every month meant a barbecue. I usually caught a ride over the pass from Timber City to Silverville with one of my sisters, but Donna had gone over early to help Grandma Fiona cook polenta, and Tessa was coming late after a dinner shift she’d covered for a sick co-worker. So I drove alone, my thoughts still jumbled after my impromptu meeting with Aiden the day before.

  I’d spent Saturday night and all of Sunday trying to ignore the fact that he’d given me the best kiss of my life while just trying to make a point. Or trying to make it look like we’d been kissing.

  Had he felt a thing?

  Why did I even care about that? First of all, he hadn’t even asked to kiss me. He’d just done it. That wasn’t okay, no matter how good it had felt. And second, I wasn’t looking to date Aiden Devlin, regardless of my silly fantasies through the years. I was, however, going to help him as much as I could within the law. Whether he liked it or not.

  My parents lived in a sprawling log home fronting a river usually full of trout. Acres of fields and then trees spread in every direction, giving them about twenty acres of solitude, which was good because often our family barbecues numbered at least fifty people.

  Home to me meant fragrant food, lots of voices, and a smattering of English, Italian, and Gaelic often rattled about together. I guess chaos felt right.

  I found a spot to park to the side of the long driveway and made my way to the house, finding Pauley sitting on one of the large rocks creating a wall of flowers below the front yard. He twirled a white daisy in his hand, while the sound of people out back carried over the house. “Hi,” I said, balancing the fruit salad I’d managed to put together before leaving home.

  He looked up, his dark eyes focusing from behind his thick glasses. His hair was smoothed back. “I heard you got shot again.”

  I shook my head and perched precariously on the adjacent rock. A Koi pond wandered from the other side, and the fish sparkled bright orange in the sun, no doubt happy to be out of hibernation. “Not really. The second bullet just nicked my ankle.”

  He tapped on the rock with his free hand. Three times. Two times. Three times. Two times. Three times.

  I let him tap.

  He looked toward the pine trees. “Maybe you should find an occupation where you do not get shot.” It was his way of expressing affection—logic and reason.

  “It’s an idea,” I agreed. “I appreciate you worrying about me.”

  His gaze turned to the fish. “You seem to get in danger statistically more than most people, and now your job adds possibilities. Maybe you should be a stay-at-home mom.”

  I grinned. He’d gone through the safest scenarios to find a better alternative for me. “I’m not married, and I don’t have kids.”

  He jerked his head. “True. You could get married and have kids. It would please your Grandma Fiona greatly. This country is a somewhat safe place to have healthy pregnancies and births.” He frowned and rocked back and forth for a while. “Though there is still danger, and you would have to drive them places. Car accidents happen frequently.”

  �
�True.” I set the bowl on my lap and relaxed, letting the sun warm me.

  “Artists usually are safe,” he mused. “Though I have seen you draw, and you will not make any money.”

  I nodded. “Starving to death doesn’t appeal to me.”

  He twirled the daisy again. “Gardener?”

  “I don’t really like dirt,” I said, closing my eyes.

  He was quiet for a moment.

  “I like to cook,” I said.

  “You always use too much salt. You should not be a cook,” he said.

  Amusement and love took me. “Once. At the family picnic in the park two summers ago, I may have used too much salt in the potato dish.”

  Two taps. Three taps. Two taps. “Twenty-seven times through the years,” he said, his focus moving to the trees. “I can list them all for you.”

  And he could. I snorted. It was too bad I couldn’t use his statistical brilliance to help me with my cases—at least not at the moment. Maybe someday I’d have enough information to know what to ask, perhaps as soon as the next day, once I got my hands on the DEA files. “No, thanks. I’ll take your word for it.”

  “People usually do,” he mused. He smoothed down his ironed jeans. “You should stop avoiding going inside now.”

  I started. “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  I bit my lip. “Why would I avoid going inside?” Even as I said the words, I wanted to wince at the stupidity of them.

  He sighed. “You got shot. There are grandmothers inside. It’s that simple.”

  Yeah, it was. Not that being fussed over by grandmothers was a bad thing. But when it came with lots of other attention, sometimes it was too much. “Is that why you’re out here?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I’m out here because I am me.”

  I smiled again. Yeah. That nailed it. People gave small towns a hard time, but truth be told, we’ve always accepted everyone. If someone’s uncle only ate purple food, you tossed in some purple food coloring for your mashed potatoes at the picnic. If a person saw ghosts, you let them have their moment. If kids had trouble concentrating, you figured out how to help them, even if the answer was unconventional. Even before diagnoses such as autism became the norm, we treated our ‘eccentric’ folks just like everyone else. “Did Aunt Jenny bake you red potatoes again?” Pauley had gone through a red only eating phase about three years ago, but he was back to eating all colors now, and Jenny couldn’t seem to let go of the red phase.

  “Jenny is on a date, busy, seeing a dirt-bag asshole of a wife cheater from Bozeman,” Pauley said, his features still pale in profile.

  I jumped. “Where in the world did you hear that?”

  “Your dad,” Pauley said.

  I smacked my head. My dad was one of the greatest guys in the world, but he really had no filter. None. Why hadn’t I heard that Aunt Jenny was dating someone from Montana? When had this started? “Well, I should get in there.” And find some answers.

  Pauley smirked. “Yes. Also, Nick Basanelli was invited tonight.”

  My stomach dropped. “What? Why?”

  “Well, we have a lawyer in the family, so that’s not it.” Pauley blinked. “Though your mother has no grandchildren.”

  Oh, man. I sighed and turned for the deep steps leading up to the door. “I’ll save a seat for you by the river swing.”

  “You always do.”

  After too many hugs and kisses to count, and a quick greeting to Nick, I helped set out food before heading for the small barrel table by the river. It fit three people, and Pauley had already somehow gotten a plate and sat. I joined him, followed by my sister Tessa. It was very often the three of us at the table. I thought of it as Pauley’s table, away from too much commotion.

  Yet, no one had ever tried to take my place. Maybe it was my table, too. How often did the family oddball know they were the oddball? Hmmm. “Am I weird?”

  “Yes,” Pauley said, separating his corn and salad with a knife.

  I chuckled and dug into my macaroni salad. It was Nana O’Shea’s recipe, and she still thought her several tablespoons of sweet pickle juice was a secret, so we let her have that one.

  “Man, he’s hot,” Tessa said over her glass of tea.

  I didn’t need to look, but I did anyway. Nick stood over by the barbecue talking with my dad. He was just as spectacular out of his suit, wearing dark jeans and a black golf shirt with a logo from a Palm Desert course. It stretched nicely across his chest, and the hand holding a beer bottle looked strong. Masculine. “You’d make a nice couple,” I said, ignoring the stress that would put on me since I worked for the guy.

  She coughed. “I was talking about you. Geez. Can you see me with a guy like that?”

  I paused and turned to stare at her. “Yes.” Tess was smart and kind and wild. Truly beautiful with red-blonde hair and green eyes. “Why not?”

  She shrugged and took a bite of her burger. “He’s a lawyer.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So am I. It’s not that hard.” Then I sighed. Tess had a hang-up because she hadn’t gone to college, and I just didn’t get it. “You’re really smart.”

  “I know.” She set the burger down.

  But she didn’t. Not really. It was weird to be in the position of trying to encourage my older sister. She’d always been my protector, just as fierce as Donna. “Tess. If you’re having a hang-up about college, go get a degree. If not, then don’t confuse education with intelligence. Some of the dumbest people I know are lawyers.”

  “Like you,” Pauley snorted.

  I shared a smile with Tessa. A joke from Pauley, a real joke, was a rare and special treat. “I’ll think about it,” Tessa said. “Though I’m not sure I want to spend four years learning about business. I might want to just start one.”

  “Really?” I chewed thoughtfully. “That’s awesome. What kind of business?”

  “I’ll let you know when I decide,” she said.

  I nodded. “Fair enough. For now, make sure you have tomorrow afternoon off. I got us spa appointments—on me.”

  She frowned. “On you?”

  “Yeah. Part of a case.” I filled her in on what I could, and her eyes glimmered with the excitement of going undercover. Kind of, anyway. I had just finished when a shadow crossed our table, and I looked up to see Nick. I swallowed and introduced him to Tessa and Pauley.

  He finished shaking hands with Tessa. “I have to get going but thought you could walk me out. Have a couple of thoughts about our cases.”

  Our cases. I liked the sound of that way too much and had to remind myself that one of the cases was about Aiden, who’d just kissed me the day before. Really well.

  “Sure.” I stood and took my paper plate over to the garbage. My legs were a little tingly. There were a zillion good-looking guys in the world, but this one was smack dab in the middle of mine. And I didn’t know a thing about him—not really. “Good idea.”

  You’d think leaving a family barbecue, one held every Sunday, would be easy and quick to do. You’d be wrong. It took nearly twenty minutes for Nick to make it from my table, across the lawn, and finally through the house, saying goodbyes and coming up with plans. Finally, we stepped outside and walked toward the Koi pond.

  “It was nice of your family to invite me,” he said.

  “I work for you and you’re single,” I said easily, dodging over the rocks.

  He chuckled. “Yeah. That’s what I figured. Silverville really never changes.”

  No. It didn’t. I turned and shielded my eyes from the sun with one hand. “You wanted to talk about the Devlin case?”

  “First thing tomorrow,” Nick said, the sun behind him creating a fit outline of his muscled body. “We’ll set up a war-room and go over the information I received from the county police about Scot Peterson as well as Aiden Devlin, since I believe the cases are related. I’ve also called in a couple of favors with the DEA for any of their surveillance on Devlin and the Lordes.”

  The net was de
finitely tightening around Aiden. Considering Scot had been killed, was Aiden in danger as well? Was it possible the cases weren’t somehow connected? “I’ll be in at eight,” I murmured.

  Nick paused and ran a hand through his dark hair, ruffling the thick mass. “I requested your harassment casefile regarding Jareth Davey from the Silverville police force.”

  I paused. My current casefile? “Why?”

  Even with the sun behind him, his eyes glowed a low amber. “I told you I’d find Jareth Davey for you. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me about the cards he sends to you.”

  My stomach cramped, and I lifted my chin. “I haven’t asked you to find Jareth Davey. I don’t want to know where he is.” His location didn’t make one bit of a difference in my life, so long as he didn’t live in Idaho. “Why do you even care?”

  For the first time, something flickered in Nick Basanelli’s eyes. Something uncertain. “I want to help.”

  I didn’t need help. “How did you even discover that there is a current investigation?”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

  Good point. Silverville. No secrets. “I don’t care about the cards.” I couldn’t prove that each anniversary and Christmas card came from Jareth Davey, and since he’d never made a move, I wasn’t going to spend my life letting him scare me. That was his plan, and he wouldn’t win. I passed each card on to the small police department in Silverville, and they fingerprinted them, with no luck. Then I ignored them, breathing easier from June until December because there would be no cards. “Drop this, Nick.”

  “He still contacts you. You need to know where he is,” Nick said quietly.

  “Why?” My voice rose just enough to give me caution. There was no reason Nick wanted to get involved with this. If he wanted to manipulate or control me with the promise of finding Jareth, he was dead wrong. “We can’t prove the cards are from him, and even so, that barely rises to harassment.”

  “Maybe not,” Nick said. “But the cards prove he hasn’t forgotten about you.”

  I thought about the well-kept Lady Smith & Wesson nine-millimeter handgun secured in my glovebox, even now. “That’s good. I haven’t forgotten about him, either.” Then I forced a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work.” With a polite nod, I turned to head back to my family, my heart beating way too fast for me to keep the smile on my face.