Reckless (13 page)

Toni was all the way up to the possible
combinations beginning with 3 before she realized she'd made a big
mistake. 3-1-1 had no effect on the security system. When she tried
3-1-2, a bell started ringing—a high-pitched jangling that refused
to stop stabbed at her ears and pierced her brain. The red lights
beside the numbered panel flashed at her like scolding eyes.

She jumped back, barely suppressing a yelp
when the door flew open and Nick's broad frame filled her vision.
His face taut with anger, he stepped inside, slammed the door and
rapidly punched a series of numbers on the panel. The alarm died at
once, leaving a leaden silence in its place.

“What kind of asinine stunt was that?” He
didn't raise his voice, but each clipped word made his displeasure
perfectly clear.

She was so relieved to see him back in one
piece that his ill humor didn't faze her. She turned her back to
him so he wouldn't see it in her face, still trying to convince
herself that her gnawing worry had been for her own sake, not his.
If something happened to Nick, she'd be imprisoned here
indefinitely. She hadn't truly cared that he might get shot—or
killed. She wouldn't let herself care. She didn’t even know who the
real Nick Manelli was.

“Well?”

She pressed her fingertips to her temples and
closed her eyes. “I...had to try.”

“Why, for God's sake? Toni, you’re safe here.
You wouldn't be out there. I thought you understood that.”

She turned to face him, feeling a bristle of
anger that chased away her limp relief. “You can't expect me to sit
here, docile as a lamb, while life-and-death decisions are being
made for me by a man I'm not even sure I can trust!”

His brows came together. “
Not sure
you
can trust? Isn't that a major change in attitude? I thought you had
me pegged as a rung or two below Satan.”

She averted her gaze and shrugged.

“As for sitting here, docile as a lamb,
that's the last thing I expect from you, lady. ‘Docile’ is not an
adjective I'd use to describe you. But you are here and you are
going to stay so you might as well resign yourself to the fact.
This place is buttoned up tighter than a spinster's corset. You're
here until I say otherwise.”

To Toni's ears it was a challenge. “Is that
so? Well, I guess that's right. I'm here and I've got nothing but
time on my hands. If I can't find a way out of this hole, then my
name isn't Toni Ri––” She stopped herself just before she blurted
“Rio.”

Nick's eyes narrowed and he studied her face.
His gaze swept the room, falling on the crumpled paper and abused
notebook in the corner. She shook her head and spun away to pace to
the kitchen. He drew a long breath and let it out slowly.
“Confinement’s making you crazy, huh?”

She turned, then dropped her gaze before his,
because he seemed to see so much. It was making her a lot more
crazy since she'd overheard that conversation last night.

“Sit down, Toni.”

She didn't argue. She was too tired. She went
to the sofa and curled on one end with her legs tucked beneath her.
Imagining him caught in the cross fire, cops firing at him from one
side, criminals from the other, had taken a lot of energy. The
relief left her weak. Nick sat down close to her. She felt his
lingering gaze but didn't return it. She braced her elbow on the
cushioned arm and rested her forehead in her upturned palm.

“I need you to promise not to mess with the
security system again, Toni. I can't have the alarm going off every
time I leave the house.”

“I don't believe this,” she murmured. “My
life's turned inside out, my sister probably thinks I’m dead, and
you're worried about your precious security system?”

He dropped his gaze and seemed to consider
his next words carefully before speaking. Finally he looked at her
again. “For all I know, the house could be wired. Do you know what
that means?”

Toni's curiosity rose to the surface like a
shark at the scent of blood. It swallowed her frustration in one
bite, her anger in the next. “Wired by whom? The police?”

He looked away. “Maybe.”

“No,” she said softly. “It's Taranto, isn't
it? You think Taranto might be listening in.” She knew she was
right because the slight flicker in his eyes gave him away.

“The point is, those alarms would seem
curious to
anyone
who might be eavesdropping. What if it was
Taranto? If he finds out you're here...”

He didn't finish. He didn't have to. Toni was
well aware what her fate would be if Taranto discovered her. That
Nick thought Taranto would trust him so little—that was interesting
to her.

“Why don't you just sweep the house?” She
asked the question only to prolong the conversation. She'd hoped
he'd say something that would confirm her suspicion that he was not
what he pretended.

He watched her as he spoke. “The house is too
big to sweep daily. I'd miss some nook or cranny.”

Unconsciously chewing her thumbnail, Toni
looked up suddenly. “
That's
why you stay in this apartment.
It's small, easy to sweep, and no one knows it's here so it's
unlikely they'd bug it anyway.” She paused, looking around the room
with new understanding. “The phone must be secure, too. Probably
has a bug signal, doesn't it? What if someone tries to trace a
call? Does it bounce off relays and give them some sham number in
Brooklyn or something?”

He stared at her for a long moment. “You seem
to know a lot about this stuff, Toni. You want to tell me why that
is?''

She'd allowed herself to get caught up in her
own excitement and had run off at the mouth, she realized grimly.
She tried to look nonchalant and shrugged. If he was a cop, she
must be making him hellishly uncomfortable. If not, she might very
well have put herself at risk. “I read a lot of thrillers.”

His jaw was tight, and his brown eyes probed
hers like surgical instruments. “Then you ought to be able to see
why it would be a big mistake to mess with the panel again. That
alarm going off when I'm not even in the house is as good as a
flare going up on a dark night. The wrong people notice it, it will
be as bad for you as it will be for me.” His tone was calmly
dictatorial—as if he expected no disagreement on her part. As if he
would not tolerate any disagreement.

He had a way of putting things so they made
perfect sense, even in this crazy situation. She found herself
feeling guilty for setting off the alarm. “I'll promise not to try
it again if you'll stop disappearing without a word. I was wor— I
was scared when I got up this morning and you were gone. What was I
supposed to do? I wasn't even sure you'd be back. I couldn't just
sit in front of the television and wait for a news report to tell
me your body had been found in a swamp somewhere—”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He
shook his head, puzzled. Then understanding crept over his face.
“You were listening last night.”

“Not long enough,” she shot back. She was
tired of playing games with him. “I didn't hear a word to explain
why two seemingly sane men would deliberately put themselves into
the middle of a shooting match.”

He caught her chin and tilted it up so he
could stare down into her eyes. She hoped to God he couldn't see
what caused the intense burning behind them. “Don't tell me you
were worried about me.”

She jerked her chin free, angry because she
had been, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. “Dream on,
Manelli.”

“I will if you will, del Rio.”

He referred to her dream last night, of
course. She could have slapped him for that remark. She couldn't
help it if her subconscious mind was unstable enough to conjure
images of him, of them...

She shook her head and pretended she didn't
know what he was talking about. “I just don't care to be left in
the cell when the jailer checks out.” She glanced at him again,
sensing a chance to get a clue to the truth from him. “Why would
you risk your life for Lou Taranto? Don't you realize he is
personally responsible for seventy percent of the heroin in the
city?” She shook her head. “I would think that when you lost your
own brother to that garbage you'd—”

“You
are
a good listener, aren't you?”
He kept a tight hold on his anger, but she could see it there. It
flashed in those deep brown eyes. “My brother is none of your
business.” His gaze wavered. He looked at his hands. “He's dead and
buried. He has nothing to do with me or what I choose to do with my
life.”

The raw agony in his voice was like a whip
lashing her heart. It also gave the lie away. His brother had
everything to do with his life. She couldn't stop her hand from
going to his arm. “That was hitting below the belt. I'm sorry.” He
didn't look at her. “Nick?”

“Go change,” he told her. “I'll take you down
to the gym for an hour.”

All day Nick tried to shake the feeling of
impending doom. The damn woman was hiding something from him; he
was sure of it. She knew about bugs and sweeping for them. She knew
about phone taps and bug signals. Worse than that, he was sure she
suspected his
goodfella
routine was a sham. She wouldn't let
it drop. She was like a dog with a three-day-old bone. She had to
keep gnawing at it.

And the ways she had of getting at him! When
she looked at him with those giant, dark-jewel eyes, he wanted to
tell her everything. When she'd mentioned his brother, he nearly
had. To let her think he could work for Danny's killer was too
much—but he had to do it.

He'd left her alone in the gym for over an
hour. When he'd finally interrupted, she was doing transverse
sit-ups on an incline bench. For a moment he just watched her. Her
face was red. Her hair was damp and sticking to her face. The
T-shirt she wore had wet spots beneath her breasts and between
them, and in the middle of her back.

He felt bad for having kept her cooped up the
way he had and he tried to make up for it. He took her swimming,
then served her lunch in the formal dining room, warning her first
they'd have to remain quiet. He took her on a tour of the entire
mansion and found himself enjoying it, although neither of them
could speak above a whisper.

The day passed quickly, and they were back in
the hidden apartment now. She was soaking in a hot bath to ease her
muscles after the workout she'd inflicted on herself. While she was
occupied, Nick plugged in the phone and dialed his supervisor’s
number. He needed to know what the background check on Toni had
turned up. He was told that Harry was “unavailable.” He could be
reached later tonight, but then Nick would be unavailable. He'd
have to wait until tomorrow.

Toni emerged from her bath with all that wild
black hair, still damp, pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a pair
of baggy gray sweats and a matching pullover with Yosemite Sam on
the front. How was it possible, he heard himself wonder, for a
woman to look so alluring with Yosemite Sam on her chest?

“What's the matter? Do I have something
caught between my teeth?”

Nick shook himself. “What?”

“You were staring,” she told him. She moved
through the living room, into the kitchen, and yanked open the
refrigerator. She took out a can of cola, popped the top and took a
long drink. Nick watched her throat move as she swallowed. He had
to force his gaze away from her.

When he glanced up again, she was the one
staring. Her eyes were focused on a point just beyond him, and her
face was slightly pale. He turned to see what had caught her
attention. The bulletproof vest he'd dug out was slung over the
back of the couch. She looked at it as if she thought it might come
to life and bite her.

“You're really going to do this, aren't
you?”

“I don't have a choice, Toni, and if it's all
the same to you, I'd just as soon not spend the next hour and a
half talking about it”

She blinked fast and averted her face. “You
could get yourself killed—”

“Only if you pray real hard.”

Her head snapped around, her eyes hard as
coal chips. “I wouldn't pray for that. You don’t really think I
could, do you?”

“I was kidding. Lighten up, will you?” He
stepped closer to her. “Look, I'd rather think about something else
until it's time to go.”

Her eyes got all smoky and dark as they
latched onto his.

He pointed to the box on the coffee table. “I
was referring to that. Of course, if you'd rather—”

“A jigsaw puzzle?” Toni frowned and went to
the table, picking up the colorful box and shaking it so the pieces
rattled. “You're ready to walk into a shooting gallery disguised as
a duck, and you want to put a jigsaw puzzle together?”

“It's a ritual.” Nick shrugged. He took the
box from her and dumped the pieces in a chaotic mound on the
carpet. “Helps me focus.”