Next to Die (18 page)

Penny’s eyes were luminous with compassion. “Oh, Joe. I’m sure your reasons weren’t selfish. Remember how you helped out the vet who came back from Iraq paralyzed? That’s the kind of man you are. You weren’t thinking about yourself.”

Her faith in him lessened the weight on his chest. “Ah, that was nothing,” he said, dismissing it.

“Have you talked to anyone else about this?” she asked, sounding concerned. “A psychiatrist?”

“Are you saying I’m crazy?” he retorted, bristling slightly.

“No. No, I just thought the Navy supplied mandatory counseling, that’s all.”

“They do,” he admitted. “But the fastest way to sink your career is to tell the Navy shrinks too much.”

“I see,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “Then I’m the only one you’ve talked to?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, feeling self-conscious.

She shook her head. “Listen to me, Joe. No one in the world would blame you for what went wrong,” she told him. “You need to forgive yourself.”

He nodded in agreement. “I’m starting to,” he replied.

“Good,” she said.

He considered her gentle, caring countenance for a thoughtful moment. Her sister had to have been telling him a lie, probably just to lure him over, or for her own selfish reasons. “How long’s it been since you’ve been with a guy?” he worked up the courage to ask.

He watched in fascination as a pink tide rose from her neck to her cheeks and made her eyes water. “That long?” he marveled when she remained mute.

“What did Ophelia tell you?” she demanded with sudden suspicion.

“Ophelia?” he repeated, shaking his head like she had nothing do with this. “I’ve been your neighbor for a long time,” he explained, “and tonight was the first time I ever saw a guy come over.”

“Oh.” She bought the lie. Her blush subsided. “It’s been a while,” she admitted, sticking a puzzle piece where it didn’t belong and pulling it out again. “I was engaged once.”

“What happened?” he asked, curious to know what kind of fool had let her go.

She moved the piece to another spot and got lucky. “First my father died,” she admitted, looking somber. “Ophelia was in college. She was on the verge of dropping out. She got sucked into a partying crowd and developed a habit. I guess I focused so much of my energies on rescuing her that Brad—my fiancé—became disgusted and walked out.”

“Well, fuck him,” said Joe. “What were you supposed to do? Turn your back on your sister?”

She sent him a look that was half astonishment, half gratitude.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’m a bad influence.”

She waved a hand, dismissing his language as inconsequential.

“You know—” He cut himself short.

“What?” she prompted when he hesitated.

“You’re an amazing woman.” There, it was out. “I’m surprised some guy hasn’t snatched you up.”

“Well, I’ve been busy,” she explained. “After Brad left, I went back to school and got a master’s in physical therapy, but first I had to join the Navy so they’d pay for it.”

He nodded his understanding. “Then you’re a career woman.”

She shrugged. “Not really,” she admitted sheepishly. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’ve always just wanted to get married and have children.”

Which was why she was not for him, he reminded himself. “So let me introduce you to some friends of mine.” Maybe if she was taken, it’d be easier to be a friend and not be tempted.

She concealed her thoughts behind the downward sweep of her lashes. “Sure, why not?” she said lightly. She picked up two more pieces and tried to work them into the puzzle.

The silence that fell over them felt suddenly sticky.

“Maybe I’ve overstepped my bounds,” he suggested, seeking a reason for it.

“No, that’s okay,” she assured him, but her smile was forced. “I’m just sensitive about my old-maid status.”

A vision of her naked and lying in his bed offered an immediate solution, but he bit his tongue against suggesting it. That was not the direction he wanted to head with Penny. Her views on casual sex were probably far different than his.

“I think I better go,” he said, tossing down his drink and standing up.

The disappointment in her eyes caught him off guard. He realized with sudden alarm that she was lonely and needy enough to compromise her standards.

“Thanks for having me,” he said, retreating to the kitchen with his cup. “I’ll let myself out.”

“Joe?” she called as he headed for the foyer.

“Yeah.” He hesitated at the top of the hall.

“You’re not a selfish person,” she reiterated, harking back to his self-doubts.

“You sure about that?” he drawled, raking her figure with a look she couldn’t mistake for anything but sexual interest. At the widening of her eyes, he offered her a mocking smile and let himself out.

Though Eric was stunned by the force of the car crash, his instincts told him to get out of the incapacitated vehicle, but he could not remember why.

Get out. Get out.

Through his shattered windshield, he saw spumes of steam escape the sides of his crumpled hood, rising like ghostly spires toward the tree branches. The lonely pine forest was lit by the headlights of a car idling in the breakdown lane behind him.

The driver of that car was his foe—he knew that much. As he scuttled across the seat toward the passenger door, Eric fumbled in the glove box for the loaded gun. It gleamed wickedly in his trembling hand. He pushed the groaning door open with his feet.

Panting with fear, disoriented, he rose from his battered vehicle on knees that quaked. Blood coursed warmly from his nose to his lips. He squinted at the car behind him. Unable to see the driver through the corona cast by the headlights, he raised a hand to block the streaming beams.

Suddenly, a powerful arm looped about his neck. Fingers clamped down over his, taking control of the gun. Eric struggled to free himself, but his attacker overpowered him, raising the 9mm pistol upward so that the barrel gouged Eric’s ear.

“What did you tell the Price girl?” growled a familiar voice.

Eric fought to place the voice. Oddly, though he couldn’t remember much, he knew that the man would kill him.

“Answer me!” snarled the voice as the barrel prodded him.

The Price girl, the Price girl.

A vision of Penelope Price formed in Eric’s mind. What had he said to her the other day?

“Tell me or I’ll blow your fucking head off,” growled his assailant.

Memories crystallized. Ah, yes, his nemesis was Buzz Ritter, the one who’d arranged to buy the ricin, then killed his partner, Danny Price, because he considered him a liability.

“I . . . I . . . I . . .” Terrified, Eric could not control his stammer any more than he could stop the cold sweat from filming his limbs.

“Talk, you stupid fuck.” The grip about his neck tightened. “What did you tell her?”

Eric clawed at the stricture tightening around his neck, but it was thickly powerful, squeezing like a boa constrictor. “I just, just, just . . .”
told her why
. But he couldn’t get the words out.

His attacker growled in frustration. “Why can’t you talk like everyone else? You want me to ask the girl myself—huh? Do I need to question her in person?”

“No! No, no, no, no!”

“Just forget it. You’re wasting my time.”

A thick gloved finger slid over Eric’s, putting pressure on the trigger.

With a whimper of acceptance, Eric closed his eyes.
I’m coming, Sonja.
A searing roar incinerated his last thought.

Chapter Eleven

If Lia’d had the money, she would have bought seventy-three bottles of beer to dump on Vinny’s doorstep, but she didn’t. She had something even better to offer to compensate him—and then some—for having to replace his taillight.

Angling her rearview mirror, she glanced at her reflection. She’d made certain that the package was irresistible. He wouldn’t turn it down.

Her hair was a cloud of copper ringlets. She wore a metallic gold sweater with a plunging neckline; stonewashed jeans with strategic holes patched by lace; golden, high-heeled ankle boots—she’d had to grab those out of a box in the trunk of her car; and beneath it all, the sexiest cream-colored satin-and-lace undergarments she owned.

He’d have to be gay to say no.

She glanced again at the Post-it note stuck to the center of her steering wheel. Number 1005 Shore Drive was along this strip of roadway somewhere. She hadn’t realized yesterday that Vinny lived right on the oceanfront, north of the boardwalk. How cool was that?

A stiff November breeze rocked her car as she slowed before a row of beach houses. Granted, they were townhouses, but they were big and freshly painted in tones of peach, aqua, and pale yellow. She sought Vinny’s Honda parked in the carport beneath the lofty first floor, but the sports car wasn’t there.

Where else would he be on a Saturday morning?

Braced for disappointment, she parked along the curb, buttoned up her cream-colored jacket with the faux-fur collar, and approached the steps to 1005.

She punched the doorbell and waited, tingling with anticipation. Yes, she had a wild streak, but it wasn’t her style to go chasing after a man, especially not a
younger
man. Although she wasn’t exactly chasing him with a relationship in mind. This was all about sex.

A soft thud inside was all the warning she got before the door swung open. Lia regarded the pretty young black woman in mute surprise. She ought to have expected it, but she hadn’t.

“Sorry,” she muttered, turning to leave. “I think I have the wrong address.”

“Who are you looking for?” the girl inquired, not unkindly.

“Er . . .” Lia turned around and caught sight of a barrel-chested black man coming down the stairs. Relief washed over her. “I thought Vinny DeInnocentis lived here.”

“He does,” said the woman, smiling at Lia’s confusion. “I think he’s still out running on the beach, but why don’t you come in and wait for him? He shouldn’t be long.”

“Thank you.” She stepped gratefully into the warm, marble-tiled foyer.

“I’m Natalie,” the woman introduced herself. “Call me Nate. And this is Teddy.”

The muscular black man smiled, revealing the whitest teeth Lia’d ever seen. “Pleased to meet you,” he rumbled in a bass voice.

“Teddy and Vinny work together,” Nate explained.

“Oh,” said Lia. “I’m . . .”
Just some girl up the street that wants to sleep with Vinny and kick him to the curb.
“I’m Lia,” she said, clasping her frigid hands together.

“Come into the kitchen, Lia. We have plenty of coffee and toast,” Nate invited.

Lia took her jacket off and draped it over the back of the dinette chair. The kitchen was light and bright, with a breathtaking view of the Atlantic Ocean. Today it looked tumultuous, with white-capped waves under a watery sun smothered by scudding clouds.

“Wow, this place is great,” Lia confessed, casting an envious eye around the generous kitchen. “Do you own it or . . .”

“No, we all rent it together,” said Nate, putting a familiar hand on Teddy’s broad back. “Pour Lia a coffee, will you, baby?” she requested.

“Sure. How do you take your coffee, ma’am? Cream and sugar?”

Ma’am?
She’d never been called that before. “Uh, yes, please,” Lia answered, humbled by the couple’s hospitality and their obvious attachment.

As she gazed out the window, sipping her coffee, she wondered what kind of nut would run outside on a day like today. As if conjured by the question, a hooded figure bounded up the concrete steps that brought him to the first-story balcony. Vinny was back, cheeks ruddy with cold, hands lost inside the sleeves of his sweatshirt. She got to study him a second before he knew that she was there.

His watering eyes seemed especially bright in his wind-chapped face, a face that did justice to both his Italian and Irish ancestors. But then he chucked a wad of spit over the balcony, reminding her that he was flesh and blood and barely out of his teens.

In the next instant, he was slipping through the door. Catching sight of her, he drew up short, his chest rising and falling in the aftermath of his run. “Well, well,” he murmured, looking pleased. “Look who found me.”

“Tag,” she said, toasting him with her coffee mug. “You’re it.” She was pleased to sound utterly nonchalant.

“I’m it,” he repeated. He seemed to give the phrase some serious consideration. “I’m
it
,” he said again, putting stress on the second word. “Yeah, I like the sound of that. I’m
it
.”

Lia rolled her eyes. God, he was cocky. “In your dreams,” she muttered, aware that Teddy and Nate were witnessing their childish exchange.

“Obviously, I got somethin’ you want,” Vinny pointed out as he unzipped his sweatshirt. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have bothered looking for me.”

She scarcely heard what he was saying. Beneath that baggy sweatshirt, he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt of Under Armour. The newfangled material supposedly locked warmth in when it was cold and heat out when it was hot. It stuck to his torso like second skin, delineating every muscle in his shoulders, arms, and abs and making her head spin. Her blood heated at the thought that his body might soon become her playground.