The Heart of A Killer (8 page)

But that wasn’t what he’d come home for.

In fact, it had been a stupid move to go inside her house, to allow himself to even think he could get close to her again. He’d crossed the line and pushed the limits and become that almost-eighteen-year-old boy again, totally crazy over the sweet innocent girl he loved but knew he shouldn’t have.

Now he was thirty years old and he still couldn’t have her.

The rumble of a motorcycle turning down the street caught his attention. He walked toward the driver’s side of his car as Gabe pulled to a stop and cut the engine on his Harley.

“Reminiscing about the good old days?” Gabe asked.

“More or less. What are you doing here?”

“Taking a ride. Thought I might find you here.” Gabe looked up at the house, then slanted a glance back at Dante. “Though I kind of figured you’d be smooth enough to get inside.”

“I was inside.”

Gabe arched a brow. “Done already?”

Dante laughed. “Asshole. Listen, someone left roses and a note on the front porch for her.”

Gabe grinned. “Secret admirer?”

“No. The note said, ‘Did you like the gift I left you in the alley?’”

Gabe’s demeanor changed in an instant, harsh anger slashing across his face. “Son of a bitch. The killer is stalking her?”

“I don’t know. Her CSU team took the flowers and note in for Forensics to go over, and they dusted the place for prints.”

“Any sign of forced entry? Was he in her house?”

Dante shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Shit. What the fuck is going on, man?”

“I don’t know. We need to get everyone together to talk about it, though, figure this whole thing out.”

They both went silent then. Dante thought about George, about why he’d gotten mixed up in all this.

“You find a place to stay yet?” Gabe finally asked.

“No.”

“How long you plan on hanging out here?”

Dante cocked his head to the side. “I wasn’t going to stay long, but now that this thing happened with George I might have to change my mind about that. Why?”

“Because if you’re staying a few days or a week you can put up with a hotel. If it’s going to be a long visit, I could maybe help you out. If you’re looking to stay permanently—”

“I’m not staying permanently.”

“So which of the other two is it?”

“I hate hotels.” Which wasn’t an answer to Gabe’s question, but Dante didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know how long he was going to be here. It had been an impulse to come in the first place. He wouldn’t have, if not for Ellen asking him. And then George was killed. And now he’d seen Anna…

Gabe nodded. “Yeah, I hate hotels, too. Follow me. I have some friends that just built some condos. Some aren’t sold yet and I can hook you up.”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Dante climbed into his car and followed Gabe. The one thing he’d always loved about St. Louis was that it didn’t matter what your destination was. Nothing was very far away. You could get from the city to the country in a matter of fifteen minutes, minus rush-hour traffic.

The condos were nice. Things sure had changed around here. Progress. Old shit got torn up, and new stuff got built. That’s the way it had always been, and so Dante expected it always would be. Just because he had a vision in his head of what his hometown had looked like when he’d left didn’t mean time would stand still.

Buildings changed. People changed. Everything and everyone grew.

He followed Gabe to the parking lot of the main office. Gabe got off his bike and Dante got out of his car. “Just wait here. I’ll go talk to management and see what’s available.”

“Sure.”

These were pretty high-class condos. Gabe, in his worn jeans and sleeveless shirt and with his neck and arms covered with tattoos, didn’t seem the type to even know the management. But Dante knew all about labeling people. And assumptions.

Never assume anything.

Gabe was out a few minutes later with a grin on his face. “Building D. We’ll head west down the main road and turn right.”

Dante followed him to the building and pulled up in front of one of many cookie-cutter-type condos.

“Grab your stuff. I’ve got the key.”

Dante pulled his bag from the trunk of his rental car and followed Gabe to the door on the main level, just off the entrance. Gabe slipped the key in the lock and blissful air-conditioning greeted them.

“It’s furnished,” Dante said as he walked in. “Someone live here?”

“No. They keep it available for visiting corporate clients.”

“Uh-huh.” Dante laid his bag on the floor and checked out the spacious kitchen, oversize living room and two bedrooms. Everything he might need was here, from pots and pans to flat-screen TV and even a game console. The beds were freshly made and the place had a new smell.

He walked back out to the living area. Gabe was on the couch, the television was on and he was playing a game.

“Make yourself at home.”

Gabe grinned. “I am.”

“So where do you live?”

“Right across the walk from here.”

“Convenient.”

He took a seat next to Gabe and picked up the other remote, started punching buttons. It was a war game. Piece of cake.

“What exactly do you do now, Gabe?”

He lifted a shoulder. “This and that.”

Which was the same answer Dante had given Anna—totally vague. “Which means what, exactly? That you’re a fry cook at the local burger joint, or that you’re an ax murderer?”

Gabe leaned to his left, punched a few buttons and knocked out Dante’s player on the game. “No, I prefer guns. You don’t have to get as close to the victim that way.”

Dante laughed. “Funny. But these condos are upscale, so you must be doing something.”

“Yeah, I’m doing something. Mostly freelance.”

Gabe killed Dante’s last player. Dante cursed. “Freelance sounds like illegal. What are you into?”

“You sound like Anna, always asking questions.”

“I’m not a cop, though. And you’re working for the Bertuccis now?”

Gabe started the next game. “Yeah. Paolo Bertucci. He runs the mob here in the city.”

“Your boss?”

“Yeah.”

Not the line of work Dante expected Gabe to get into. “For how long?”

“About two years.”

“Good work I guess.”

“It pays the bills.”

Working with the mob could be lucrative business. It could also get someone killed. “What do you do for Paolo Bertucci?”

Gabe was focused on the game, his fingers flying on the controller. Dante was trying to keep up, but Gabe was kicking his ass.

“Jack-of-all-trades. Anything from running errands to enforcer duty.”

“You like the job?”

“Like I said…it pays the bills.”

Working for the mob also meant you kept your mouth shut, and Gabe wasn’t stupid. Still…

“You think Bertucci’s connections in drugs had anything to do with George’s death?”

Gabe paused the game, shifted his gaze to Dante. “I don’t know. He moves drugs in this city. Doesn’t mean he’s directly involved. He leaves that to the peons.”

“Like you?”

Gabe laughed. “I’m not a drug dealer, man.”

Which meant Gabe was higher up on the Bertucci food chain than just a peon.

They used to be as tight as brothers. Real brothers, not the foster brothers they had been. There had been no secrets between them. They’d known everything about each other, had spent many nights up in their room in the Clemons house where they’d been fostered sharing all the shit they’d been through as kids. It had bonded them because their hells of abuse and shitty childhoods had been so similar.

And now they were strangers circling each other, neither of them willing to divulge their secrets.

Dante leaned back on the sofa and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Not much like the old days, is it?”

“Guess not.”

“You into something big?” Dante knew he had no right to ask, especially since he hadn’t told Gabe shit about himself.

“Just stuff I don’t want to talk about. With you, particularly, since I don’t know where the hell you’ve been the past twelve years.”

“You’ve been here the whole time?”

“No. Left right after…right after the thing went down with Anna. I had to get the hell out. That whole scene freaked me out.”

Damn. Gabe had skipped town the same time he had. “I didn’t know you’d left, too.”

Gabe slanted him a look. “I didn’t know about you, either, until after I came back. Where’d you go?”

“Dallas first. Big city, easy to get lost in. Figured I should get out of here, give Anna some space. I thought if I wasn’t around that whole mess would just disappear. Guess you must have had the same thought. How long did you stay gone?”

“I’ve been back here two years. I guess we all need to come home eventually, huh?”

Dante smiled at that. “Ellen asked me to come back for her and George’s anniversary.”

“Man, that shit sucks for her.”

“It does.” He didn’t even want to think about it. “Anyway, I agreed to come back because I figured it was time anyway.”

Gabe nodded. “So we both left right after the attack.”

“Looks like it. Roman and Jeff never left, though?”

“No, they both stayed.”

“Nothing is like I expected it to be,” he said.

“Why? Because you didn’t get a big welcome-home party?”

He shot Gabe a look. “No. I don’t know what I expected. Sure as hell didn’t expect to find out Anna was a detective. And, Roman, too. That’s a shocker. And you—look at you. All tatted up and gone biker. A real badass now.”

Gabe laughed and stretched his legs out in front of him, then popped his black shit-kicker boots up on the table. “The one thing I found out when I came back? The world around here didn’t stop turning just because I left.”

It sure as hell didn’t. Didn’t make Dante feel any better, but he’d done what he’d been asked to do, and he’d done it for Anna’s sake. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do.

It
had
been the right thing to do.

But at the time he’d thought Gabe would be around to watch over her. The others had been younger, not as well equipped to be her protectors.

“I didn’t know you were leaving,” Dante said. “I might have stuck around otherwise.”

“I didn’t know you had left, either. Sorry, man.”

Dante shrugged. “Not your responsibility. Anna managed okay, though. She had her dad to take care of her. How’s she seemed the past couple years since you’ve been back?”

Gabe grinned. “Feisty. Driven. She’s out to get the bad guys in a big way.”

In the short time he’d seen her at the crime scene, he could see that about her.

“Which means what, exactly? That the two of you meet up more often than not?”

“You might say that.” Gabe chuckled.

Curious, Dante leaned forward. “Something else going on with you and Anna I should know about?”

“Like what?”

He didn’t want to ask. But he needed to know. “You have something going on with her?”

Gabe frowned. “Why would you think that?”

“You showed up at her house this morning.”

Gabe let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “You dumbass. It’s not like that. I look out for her.”

“Maybe you’re not the right person to be doing that, considering what kind of business you’re in.”

“Yeah, and you think you’re better equipped to do it, mystery man?”

“Hell, I don’t know.” Dante stood and walked to the window, raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m talking out my ass, Gabe. I’m tired. I’ve been up all night.” He turned to face his onetime best friend and brother. “It’s good to see you. I’m glad you’re here. And thanks for giving me this place to stay.”

Gabe stood. “Get some sleep. I’ll check in with you later.”

He held out his hand. Dante clasped his arm and pulled him in for a tight hug.

He never got close to people, hadn’t since he’d left here. Gabe and the others had been the only people he’d truly counted on. They were the only ones he’d ever told his secrets to. He trusted them with everything without question.

Or he had at one time.

Like Gabe had said—everything had changed in twelve years.

“It’s good to have you home again,” Gabe said.

“It’s good to be home.”

He was surprised to discover he actually meant it.

Anna was armpit deep in the thing she hated most—paperwork—when Dante strolled into the squad room and made a beeline for her desk.

She frowned. “Who let you in?”

“Some guy named McClaren.”

“Remind me to withhold his donuts.”

“Funny.”

He made himself at home by sliding into the chair next to her desk, extending his long, lean legs out in front of him. He wore a dark gray T-shirt that stretched tight across a very well-developed chest, his muscled biceps peeking out from the hem of the short sleeves.

And just like before, the stupid sex chemicals in her body roared to life. God, now that he’d grown up he was devastating, which she would have already been well aware of if he hadn’t left her twelve years ago.

She refused to be attracted to him. She intended to stay angry. His reappearance had brought unpleasant things, just like the last time she’d seen him.

He might even be considered a suspect. She wasn’t about to be attracted to a suspect.

She turned her attention on him, determined to remain cool and aloof.

“Something you want?”

He gave her a half-lidded look that made her squirm in her chair, so she chose to ignore him and concentrated on her paperwork instead.

“I take it you’re busy?”

“Master of the obvious, aren’t you?” she replied while not really studying the file in front of her.

“Want me to help?”

She lifted her gaze to his. “You a cop?”

He smiled at her. She’d always loved his smile. He’d made promises to her with that smile. Promises he hadn’t kept.

“Not a cop, no.”

“Then you should leave and let me be one.”

“I thought I’d hang out with you awhile and we could catch up. Maybe we could go grab something to eat.”

“I’m on duty, Dante.”

“You’re doing paperwork, Anna. Unless your captain thinks it’s a bad idea for me to be here and throws me out.”