Fugitive Heart

chapter Thirteen


The engine and headlights were cut when the vehicle reached the drive. It coasted to a stop. The two men who climbed out of the black SUV were lumpy figures in the darkness. One was about the size of a refrigerator. The other was shorter, skinnier and wore some kind of nylon windbreaker that made quiet shushing sounds when he moved, which Nick could hear even from yards away. The men were no sooner out of the vehicle than they each reached under their jackets. Nick didn’t need to see the guns. The efficient drawing motion said it all.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. He was not equipped to play cat-and-mouse games with professional criminals.

Nick cut a glance at Ames. Her eyes were wide, alert but not terrified. That was good. The last thing he needed was for her to panic, especially since he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. Playing it by ear was an understatement. But he wanted her to feel confident in his ability to handle this.

He leaned close to whisper to her. “Look, I don’t know who they are. Maybe Bert sent them ahead to check things out. You stay put, and I’ll go talk to them.”

She seized his arm. “No way! Those guys look like… Damn, they look plain scary. If your friend’s not with them, maybe they’re not his people.”

Exactly what he’d been thinking, but Nick didn’t know what else to do. One way or another, this situation was going to come to a head. He might as well come out of hiding, show he wasn’t afraid and was willing to do everything he could to set things right.

“Ames. Please, trust me, and please stay put.”

She clutched his arm hard enough to hurt for a moment longer, then reluctantly released him. “Okay, but I have nine-one-one on speed dial. If anything starts to happen, I’m calling.”

Nick doubted there’d be time. If something went down here, it might very well be him, with a bullet in his head, hitting the ground.

He grasped the back of Ames’s head, leaned in and gave her a hard kiss; then he scrambled up from the ground. Keeping her safe had become more than a desire. It was a driving need wedged deep, unmovable.

He wanted to put some distance between the car and Ames, so he made his way through the woods, then approached the men just beyond the curve of the long driveway. He shouted, hands raised, “Hey. I’m here.”

His heart raced as the men turned to face him. Looking down the barrels of a couple of Berettas could do that.

The big guy got into the SUV and started it. The shorter one jogged toward Nick, gun raised.

“I’ve got the package,” Nick said, hoping that would convince the skinny guy to aim the gun away from him. It didn’t.

“Nick Rossi?” The skinny guy stopped more than an arm’s length away. The other guy had driven the sixty feet and got out again in an almost lazy manner. His gun dangled from his big hand as he joined his partner.

“Yes. You’re with Bert?” Nick said again. “I’ll only deal with him. We have an agreement.” He prayed Bert thought the same thing.

The big guy scowled, then went around the side of the vehicle and turned on the headlights so they shone in Nick’s face. “Stay there,” he commanded.

His partner approached Nick. As he patted him down, all Nick could think was what a stupid choice a windbreaker was for a person who was supposed to be silent and deadly. The slippery noise the nylon material made suddenly seemed incredibly hilarious. Nick was on the verge of bursting out laughing, his anxiety exhibiting as inconvenient hilarity.

He swallowed the impulse and held perfectly still as the man with the pitted face and thin moustache frisked him, then announced to his partner, “He’s clean.”

Nick had left the gun with Ames, even though she’d made it clear she didn’t want to use it. He was going to let them pat him down, and there was no point in getting it taken away from him.

“Where’s Bert?” he asked, increasingly certain these two had nothing to do with his one-time pal.

“Don’t know. We’re here for Mr. Esposito.” The big guy stressed the word “mister” as if Bert hadn’t earned the right to the title. The man’s tone suggested Bert wasn’t part of the senior Esposito’s inner circle. Nick’s stomach churned. If Bert had no authority to deal with Nick, then all bets were off.

“What does Mr. Esposito want?” Nick played for time as he pictured Cesar, the head of the clan. He hadn’t seen the guy in the flesh for years, but his photo had been featured in a news story when he’d been arraigned for a racketeering charge, which was later dropped. Cesar Esposito was a very average-looking man. No expensive clothes or gold chains. In fact, in the photo taken as he was ushered into the courthouse, he looked more like a gardener than a crime boss.

“You,” Windbreaker answered. “And Elliot Jensen.”

“I don’t have any idea where Jensen is. Like I told Bert”—and he’d tried to tell the other guy he’d encountered at Elliot’s house. Nick swallowed, and went on—“I’m not Elliot Jensen’s accomplice, just collateral damage. His trail led Bert to me, and Bert gave me the go-ahead to track Elliot and recover what he took. I’m trying to do that.”

Nick felt like he was throwing stones into a pond that refused to ripple. These guys stared at him blank-faced, as if they couldn’t care less about his story. They had a job to do. He was it.

Refrigerator waved his pistol. “Get in the car. You can explain all this to Mr. Esposito back in New York.”

“You’re not hearing me. I have some of the stuff—the accounting information and part of the money. I found it, but I’ve hidden it. I’ve got to have some kind of leverage. Besides, I’m negotiating with Bert on this issue.”

“In this matter, Bert Esposito is irrelevant,” Windbreaker said. “Give us the packet—all of it—and maybe Mr. Esposito will be lenient.”

The Fridge screwed up his face as if he smelled something off. “He still has to come with us. Him and the packet both.”

Windbreaker rolled his eyes. “Yeah, of course.”

They all froze as, from around the bend came the sound of an approaching car. Then the crunch of gravel and the growl of the engine abruptly went silent.

He wondered if it was possible Ames had ignored his warning to stay put. Yeah, he just bet she’d heard the car and run toward it for help. And who drove that car?

Speaking of Mr. Irrelevant, here comes Bert.

“Who’s that?” demanded Windbreaker.

Nick shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Did you call the police?”

He considered lying but decided not to bother. These guys seemed to be getting nervous, and keeping them calm was a priority. “Nope.”

The big guy went to the car and turned off the headlights. The gray light of dawn hadn’t changed or brightened much and probably wouldn’t. It was going to be a cloudy day.

“Why’d you do that? I can’t see a goddamn thing. No goddamn streetlights,” Windbreaker grumbled.

Nick felt a wave of sympathetic agreement.

The other guy told him to shut up. He looked at Nick and tucked the gun away. “We don’t want a situation. You got that, Rossi? Whoever this is, we’re going to act normal. We’re going fishing or something, understand?”

“Sure.” Nick couldn’t help smiling at the thought of these two holding fishing poles. The Refrigerator grabbed Nick’s arm and hauled him to stand in front of them.

“I got a hand on the gun. Whoever this is better not be too interested, understand? We don’t want to clean up a big mess, but I will if I have to.”

Nick wished he’d stop ending sentences with “understand?” He nodded.

Three figures walked over the hill as if they were taking a morning stroll. One was a bald guy who probably played high school football twenty years ago, a familiar face. Another was Bert, well-dressed and darkly handsome as ever, although he did seem a little fatter than the last time Nick had seen him. The third person was Ames. Nick’s heart stuttered in fear. He might be glad to see the first two but not Ames. She was not part of this.

He called, “Good morning, Ms.”—and just in time remembered her last name was the same as Elliot’s—“Peterkins.”

She walked next to Bert, and there was at least two feet between them. The football player was on Bert’s other side. No one held a weapon on Ames. He twisted to face the Refrigerator and in a low voice said, “Before we do any more talking, just let the woman go, okay? You want to keep this whole thing quiet, and that means keeping out the locals. This is a small town, and she’s well known, so if anything happens to her, there’ll be big trouble.”

The Fridge paid no attention to him. He tucked his gun away but looked at Bert and muttered, “What the f*ck?”

Windbreaker stepped away from their little group. He held the Glock behind his back. Nick was thoroughly sick of guns.

“Bert!” Windbreaker waved with his free hand. “Glad to see you. Didn’t know you were around these parts.”

All friends here.

Windbreaker stood in front of Nick but wasn’t so tall that Nick couldn’t see Bert wave back, a big smile on his bland, smooth face. Nick had seen that cold shark’s smile before and knew Bert was furious.

Odd that the clashes between Bert and his old man hadn’t settled down by now. They had a lot of typical dad-and-son issues—with the bonus of extra menace. Then Nick remembered Bert wasn’t the hothead of the pair, and so the end of teenage years wouldn’t have resolved power struggles.

And here he and Ames stood, literally in the middle.

The other group of three came to an abrupt halt next to the big SUV. Bert’s man, a guy with a shaved head and mashed nose—Nick couldn’t recall if his name was Ducky or Duffy —stared over at them. There was enough light to see that he and Windbreaker immediately began a stare-down. Nick could tell the rivalry was nothing new.

“Yo, Phil.” He nodded in the general direction of Phil the Fridge’s hidden gun. Bert slipped his hand into his jacket pocket sending a clear message of I got one too.

Bert continued. “So, Phil, Les—what the hell you two doing here? Didn’t my father tell you I was on it?” His voice was calm, interested rather than angry.

“Hey, what do we know?” Les, aka Windbreaker, gave a nylon-whispering shrug. “Mr. Esposito is kinda worried about this situation. He didn’t like what was going on with people trying to push him around, and the missing material is—”

Nick interrupted. “Thanks for stopping by, Miss Peters, but I guess you can go on and finish your walk. Nice morning for it.”

“I thought you said she was Peterkins.”

Nick ignored Phil. He looked into her pale face, willing her to turn and just walk away. The situation hadn’t gotten to that sizzling point of no return. No one here would shoot her without at least shouting some kind of warning. He was almost sure of it.

He spoke in a loud, deliberately aggressive voice. “Listen, you guys don’t need her. I found what you want. It’s inside. So how about we let her go on and finish her stroll.”

Phil said, “She can stick around until we’re done. I’ll leave Les to watch her.”

Les growled. “Who the hell gets to decide that one?”

“She’s not going anywhere.” Bert’s smile stretched wider, showing those too-white teeth, this time aimed at Nick. “You forget, I saw Ms. Jensen’s face on Facebook.”

Oh, shit.

Nick had to keep his cool. He returned Bert’s smile with warmth added. “Can’t blame me for trying. She has no idea what’s going on, and I accidentally dragged her into this idiocy.”

“Idiocy, yeah,” Bert agreed.

The linebacker behind him shifted his weight, crossed his arms. Good. Still no gun at Ames’s back.

“Wait a f*cking moment here. You called her Ms. Jensen. Like Elliot Jensen?” Phil started toward the SUV like he was going after Ames.

Nick tensed. Bert grabbed Ames’s arm and pulled her back so she stood next to the big bald Ducky—or Duffy—who didn’t so much as glance at her. The bald guy was still eyeball-to-eyeball with Les.

Bert rested his hand on her shoulder in a cozy, possessive manner that made Nick’s head spin. “She’s helping me with my inquiries. Mine. I don’t know what my father told you, but I’m in charge here. Why don’t you give him a call, Phil?”

Phil retreated and ran his free hand over his dark, greasy head. “Too early there. We can wait.”

“No. We can’t.” Bert lost the smile. “I’m sick of him poking his nose into business I said I’d take care of.”

“Thing is, we work for him. Understand?” Phil shifted from foot to foot, his black running shoes crunching on the gravel.

Les sniffed and spat, then continued to stare at Bert’s bald enforcer.

Nick couldn’t stand the growing tension. “You guys are working for the same result. You want to get the stuff back to the original owner. I can give you at least some of it.” He raised his eyebrows and looked at Ames, hoping Bert would understand the point of his vague talk. She doesn’t know anything.

Bert pulled his hand from his jacket pocket, and Nick could see Phil’s shoulders relax a little.

Les was still on high alert, staring at Bert’s guy as if he was the only dangerous thing in the landscape.

“Okay. Let’s get moving and find out what you have.” Bert rubbed his hands together as if anticipating some kind of treat. “Les, you and Duffy stay out here with Miss Jensen.”

Duffy, not Ducky, unfolded his arms.

One goon from each side, Nick thought. That should keep her safe. Especially since grouchy Les seemed to be more interested in Duffy than in harassing Ames.

He walked over to her and studied her face. “You okay?” he asked. He wanted to touch her, make her smile, kiss her. But just approaching her was already asking for trouble.

The dark circles under her eyes pissed him off. These damned Espositos didn’t belong in her little town—and he’d led them straight to her house.

“Rossi, what the f*ck you doing?” Phil called.

Asking for trouble was the answer. He trudged back toward Phil and Les. Bert walked next to him, too close. “Your friend Jensen turned out to be a real smooth character,” Bert said quietly.

“I know.”

“Had me fooled and made me look really bad. I don’t like that. Not with my father on my ass all the time. I don’t want to give Pop any excuse and Jensen just handed him a great reason to give me a load of shit.”

“Yeah. Elliot’s turned out to be a pain in the ass for me too.”

“Where exactly is the stuff we came for?” Phil gestured to the house with his gun, and Ames gave a small cry of alarm. She must not have noticed the gun before. Nick turned back. He wished he could yell at her, This is why you should have stayed hidden.

“We’re fine. No problem,” Nick called to her instead. Then he walked into the house and away from her, one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

He didn’t trust Les. He didn’t know Duffy well, and he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to Ames.

“She better be safe,” he said as they banged though the front door into the cold, dark house.

“Sure, sure,” Bert said, uninterested.

Nick led them to the kitchen table, where he’d stacked the cash in neat piles. “How much money did you say was missing?” he asked Bert. His old friend cut a quick glance at Phil and didn’t answer.

Phil leaned down and started pawing through the cash. “Where’s the flash drive? The notebook?”

“You let Ms. Jensen go, and I’ll tell you where it is.”

“You’ll tell me,” Bert gently corrected.

“I’ll tell you both.”

“You might not think you have a dog in this fight, Nick, but you’re wrong.”

Nick understood his point, and Bert was right. He was in danger if Les and Phil got custody of him. He raised both hands as if Bert had pulled a gun. “Okay. I appreciate the fact that you’re less…less likely to take extreme measures. But you and your dad have been squabbling for years, and I’ve seen what happens to people who pick sides. I’m not doing that. I’ll help you both. But you have to let her go and—”

And that moment, a shot rang out.





Ames should have listened to Nick and stayed hidden like a rabbit tracked by dogs. He’d watched her as they’d talked, and she knew he was worried about her. He had enough to worry about. She did too, now.

But she’d seen the guys in the SUV and hated the way they’d stalked toward Nick.

When the other car had come around the corner, she thought perhaps, if she warned them, they would take that into consideration. She couldn’t hide when there was trouble. After a long, painful moment of consideration, she didn’t take the gun. She didn’t like weapons and didn’t want to look as if she was an aggressor. A helpful neighbor, that’s all.

She’d gone up to the car window and waited until the driver, a big hulk of a man with a nose that looked crooked and flat, lowered the window. The man next to the driver gave her a pleasant, warm smile.

The hulk looked more dangerous, so she’d talked to him. “Hi, I’m so glad you’re here. I’m a little afraid. Some really scary guys”—who look kind of like you—“are up ahead on this road.”

“Hello, Ms. Jensen,” the smaller one had called to her.

That had been a bad moment, but he’d only gotten out of the car, shaken her hand, introduced himself as Bert and politely asked her if she had a gun before asking Duffy to do a quick search. “Just to make sure,” he’d said almost apologetically.

She didn’t trust that cold-eyed Bert, but he’d actually seemed grateful as she dropped the neighbor thing and told him that she and Nick had found what he was looking for. “We’ll go find out,” he said. “All of us.”

It had seemed like things were going all right until she was left behind with the skinny one called Les and big, bald Duffy.

Once everyone else had gone into the house, those two had walked right up to each other—and unfortunately, she stood between them.

“I kind of have to use the bathroom,” she told them. No lie. “Do you think we could just go inside for a minute or two?”

They ignored her. The ugly look on Les’s face was chilling. What could happen to a man to make him wear an expression like that? At least he was staring at Duffy and not her.

“How’s the bitch?” Les asked.

“Jesus, you really are a pig.”

“I guess you’re still living in the dark, aren’t you, a*shole? You’ll find out.”

Duffy sucked in an audible breath.

For a moment, Ames thought they were talking about her. Then she realized these two had history—one that involved a woman. Les’s ex, maybe? Or maybe Duffy’s sister? His mother? A dog?

Usually, she’d be sort of interested in the tension. Speculation about a situation might keep the Back Porch and Arnesdale buzzing for months, and though Ames tried not to care, she could get sucked into the drama as easily as anyone else.

At the moment, and after another glance at Les, she decided she was glad these two left her out of the conversation.

She tried to slide out from between the two glaring men. “I think I’ll just go to—”

Les seized her arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Duffy grabbed her other arm, almost as hard. He sneered at Les. “You know that’s your problem, a*shole. You never treat women with respect.”

Les’s grip tightened. He pulled her hard so she had to move toward him, but Duffy didn’t move an inch.

“Um, you guys? You’re hurting me?”

They paid no attention to her. A shriek formed in her throat, but she swallowed it when she realized they might hear her in the house. That wasn’t going to help matters. She tried to tug her arm out of Duffy’s grip.

Les scared her more, but at least he was closer to her size. Putting her body into the motion, she gave a sharp yank away from Les, then yelped as pain radiated through her shoulder.

Les stumbled forward, bouncing into her, and then both of them collided with Duffy.

The two hoods let go of her so fast she stumbled and fell. Then the men were on each other, yelling, punching and kicking.

Duffy pulled out his gun. Les grabbed his wrist. Ames rolled and scrambled away from them on her hands and knees. The gravel bit into her skin, but she didn’t want to stand and make herself a bigger target.

Duffy’s gun popped with a sharp report that made her jump. She felt rather than heard herself scream. A few seconds later, shouts came from the house. Nick appeared on the porch. But the shouts seemed to echo back from the road. A lot of voices.

She looked up the road and there were Jake, Gopher, Dennis Phillips, all running around the curve, some on the road, some cutting over the field toward her, toward the house. Marty, in her uniform, trotted along with the rest.

“Watch out, they have guns!” Ames shouted to Jake and the others, but then noticed several of the people rounding the curve in the road had guns or rifles too.

Nick leaped off the porch and sprinted toward her.

Les lay on his back, clutching his leg and screaming. Duffy got to his feet unsteadily. He still held the gun.

Gopher aimed a shotgun. “Drop it, scumbag.” Before Duffy could move, Gopher’s gun boomed.

“Sonofabitch!” Duffy screamed. The pistol flew out of his hand as he stumbled backward and fell.

Ames’s head spun and her stomach lurched. Nobody is supposed to die. But Duffy was still cursing loud enough to be heard over Les’s whimpering.

“It’s only eight-shot,” Gopher called. “I been dove hunting.”

Before Ames could react to any of this, decide whether she should run or stay put or get the hell out of Gopher’s way before he filled her with buckshot, Nick plowed into her. His arms went around her, and he literally swept her off her feet and into a crushing hug.

“You okay?”

“Yes. No. You’re killing me,” she wheezed. “Let go.”

He put her back on her feet and loosened his hold but still held her tight, and she liked that—a lot—despite the ache in her shoulder from being used in a tug-of-war between the two fighting idiots.

“What happened in the house?” she asked.

“Bert got what he came for. He and Phil were fighting over who’d take possession of it when the yelling and shooting started. Bert’s a smart guy. He didn’t stick around to have a shootout with local law enforcement. He took off out back.”

“Good. Maybe Bobby Brown will catch him then.”

Nick looked confused. “The rapper?”

“No, the deputy. I saw him running along with Jake toward the back of the house.”

Before Ames could add any more, another pair of arms seized her. Marty, smelling of fry grease and cinnamon buns, hugged her from behind. “Are you all right? Oh my God, Ames, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me what was going on. We tell each other everything!”

Trust Marty to immediately move from friendly caring to a why’d-you-leave-me-out-of-the-loop? complaint.

Marty ended the sandwich hug and stood back. “Jake told us everything, and we believed him ’cause that scary guy—not this guy.” She spared a glance at Nick. “Another, different one—had just left the diner. So Gopher and me and some of the other early risers who were already there for breakfast all came to check on you.”

“With guns. In the dark. You could’ve all been shot.”

“Well, Bobby sure couldn’t handle it alone. He’s just one man, and these are professional criminals, Jake says. Jeez, Ames, don’t be ungrateful.”

“I’m not. Thank you.” She reached out to take Marty’s hand, and suddenly Nick was letting her go and jogging toward the house.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“Around back to check on the deputy and Jake. They might need my help.”

Gopher and Dennis had the two goons facedown in the gravel and were trussing their hands behind their back with rope. Ames fleetingly wondered how they’d managed to come so prepared, but then she trotted past them and caught up with Nick at the corner of the house.

She ran after him and grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare. You’re going to walk right into a gunfight and get yourself killed. Let Bobby handle it. He’s really not that bad at his job, and he’s got Jake for backup. You stay with me. I’m serious.”

For a moment, Nick resisted her grip, no doubt determined to do the macho-male thing and assume no one could handle anything without him. But then he stopped trying to pull away from her. “I can’t believe this. All these townspeople popping up out of nowhere. It’s crazy.”

“It’s Arnesdale. Everybody’s always up in your business, but sometimes that turns out to be a really good thing.”

All of a sudden, Ames’s legs buckled. The adrenaline she’d been operating on seemed to evaporate from her system, leaving her weak and jittery. I could have been killed. Nick could have been killed. Any one of the gang from the diner could have been killed. Killed! As in “shot through the heart”, and not in a song-lyric kind of way.

Nick caught her as she slipped toward the ground. “Whoa! Are you all right? Were you hit?” He started patting her all over, searching for a hidden wound.

“Just noodle legs. Let me catch my breath and I’ll be all right.” She clung to his solid strength and breathed him in. “It was kinda scary,” she admitted, glancing toward the two criminals who’d held her captive. “Even if they did seem more dopey than lethal.”

“Trust me. Both those guys could be plenty lethal. It’s their job, and they’d shoot somebody with no more qualms than if they were running any other errand for their bosses.”

“Speaking of… I wonder if those guys got away.”

As if in answer to her thought, another gunshot rang out, making Ames jump and grab on to Nick even tighter. “Oh God.” She pictured Jake or Bobby sprawled on the ground—still and bleeding.

A moment later, Jake rounded the corner, pale and retching. He wiped his sleeve across his face. Ames and Nick broke apart and hurried toward him.

“What happened?”

“They were digging around in the woods. Bobby shot one guy, but the other one ran off. Bobby went after him.”

“Which guy got shot?” Nick asked, and Ames remembered that he’d once been buddies with Bert Esposito.

“He’s dead.” Jake continued to scrub at his cheek with his jacket sleeve, smearing red down his jaw. “His head exploded. Right on me. I’ve never seen anybody die before, except my grandpa, but that was, you know, in a hospital bed.”

Ames put an arm around him, and Nick helped Jake stagger over to the front porch and lowered him down. “I’ll get you some water.” He disappeared into the house, while Ames urged Jake to put his head between his knees and breathe.

“What’s going on?” Marty joined them. “Did Bobby get the bastards?”

“One of them,” Ames answered. She looked over to Gopher and Dennis, who were driving their trussed-up prisoners toward the vehicles. Citizen’s arrest. She had to suppress a giddy laugh at the crazy sight of the locals herding the thugs along like cattle. There was nothing funny about any of this, she reminded herself.

Nick returned with several bottles of water, which he passed around. Ames hadn’t even thought about being thirsty, but she gulped the bottle down until the cheap plastic crumpled. Immediately, she started to feel better.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel, and Officer Bobby emerged from the darkness. His face was as pale as Jake’s, but his hands were steady as he holstered his gun.

“Gopher and Dennis took the other guys to your squad car,” Marty announced.

“Good.” Bobby nodded. He turned to Nick. “One of the perps got away. You want to come and identify the other? If you can.” Bobby pulled in a deep breath but recovered fast. “And then I’m going to have some questions for both you and Ames.”

The wail of an approaching siren and red lights flashing through the trees heralded the arrival of an ambulance and another squad car.

Then things got pretty official fast, even if the Back Porch patrons stayed and milled around. Yellow crime tape was strung around the yard, the other two cops in town walked around taking notes, and the EMTs carted off the dead body of Mobster Number One, which meant Bert was still at large.

Ames and Nick were ushered into the backseat of one of the other squad cars. Ames felt completely disoriented and fragmented, not to mention exhausted. So much had happened in so little time. This morning was surreal, and she thought about the customers who’d be stopping by the Back Porch expecting their breakfasts and finding no one there to serve them.

As they waited alone in the back of the cop car, she inched closer to Nick and rested her head on his chest. He mumbled something.

“What?”

“Clusterf*ck,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Ames.”

“No, no. You kept your promise. I’m fine.”

“Most of Arnesdale did that, not me.” He stroked her hair back from her face. “And thank God for Arnesdale. If Elliot came back here, he’d be safer here than anywhere else. I can’t imagine the Espositos will come back here in any big fat hurry.” He chuckled. “I wish you could have seen Bert’s face when he looked out the window and saw the crowd of people coming over the hill.”

She sighed and snuggled in closer, soothed by the thump of his heartbeat, slow and steady. The danger had passed for now, but… “Will he keep coming after you?”

Nick absently twirled one of her curls around his thumb. “He got what he came for—most of it, anyway. I told him we don’t know a thing about Elliot, and he believes me.”

“Why do you think he believes you?”

His hand on her hair stilled. “I know him. He believes me.”

“But what about his father? He seems to be the really dangerous one.”

“Bert will fix it with Cesar.”

Was he lying to make her feel safe again? She twisted so she could look into his face, and he smiled down at her. The warmth shining in his brown eyes made her feel more secure than any assurances about the Espositos backing off.

She wanted more, so much more from him—but not enough to ignore this moment, safe and in his arms after the fear of the morning, when she’d thought they might both be killed. These seconds wrapped in his arms felt like a gift.





At the station, Bobby and Ted guided Ames and Nick into separate interrogation rooms. Actually, one was the interrogation room; the other was a break room for the staff. Ames watched the coffeemaker dripping in the corner, and answered Ted’s questions to the best of her ability. She’d never meant to expose Elliot, but here she was anyway, and all she could do was tell the truth about her brother.

“So, all you know is what this guy Nick told you? This story about Elliot stealing money and records? How do you know Nick isn’t part of it?”

Ames shook her head. “I just do, but, uh, I don’t think I should really be talking to you without a lawyer.”

Ted snorted. “Come on, Ames. This is me here. Just tell me the truth, and everything will be fine.”

“Nevertheless.” Ames folded her arms and sat back in the metal chair. Time to clam up. She hoped Nick was doing the same. She’d watched enough TV shows to know that even if a person didn’t have anything to hide, whatever they said during questioning could come back to bite them in the ass later in court.

“Fine. Whatever,” Ted said. “Want some coffee?”

“No, thanks. My stomach’s too jumpy.” Again, Ames felt as if she was in a dream, switching from talk of criminal activities to mundane chitchat. “Honestly, Ted, I’m exhausted and kind of overwhelmed. Can I go home now? You guys can question me later. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” Besides, I don’t even have a lawyer.

“Sure, Ames.”

“And Nick. You’ll let him go too.”

“I don’t know. Bobby might want to hang on to him awhile longer.”

She sat up straight. “What? Why?”

“Because Sam Allen or Nick Ross or whatever his name is seems to have a lot to do with why these guys were in town. We can’t just turn him loose without a lot more questioning.”

“He’s not going to skip town. Nick’s not like that.” Even as she said it, Ames could hear how naïve she sounded. She didn’t really know Nick, despite everything they’d done together and the fact that he could make her body glow. The old Ames would be appalled by her words.

She had been cautious all of her life, dreaming about her house and never taking the steps to move into it. She’d worried about Elliot but hadn’t gone east to look for him.

Trusting Nick, believing him, went against her prudent nature. What was more, the time to act on her usual, reasonable doubts had come and gone, and she’d ignored it. And she realized that once she’d informed him that she’d uncovered his real name, he’d stopped lying.

She knew his name and knew him in all the ways that counted.

“Let me talk to Bobby,” she said. “I’ll vouch for Nick—at least what he’s been doing for the last day or two.” She ignored the interested twitch of Ted’s eyebrows. Something else for the Arnesdale gossip mill—although after the moment she’d seen all those people coming down that driveway, she couldn’t despise her hometown. “If you’re not going to bring charges—and I don’t see how you can, because he hasn’t done anything—then let him go home with me.”

Ted looked at her sharply. “To your house, Ames? Jeez, he’s only been in town a few weeks.”

“So?” She felt like a petulant teen being asked to explain her behavior to her parents. She squared her shoulders and remembered her age. “It’s not really your business,” she said less belligerently.

“Just don’t want to see you get hurt. You don’t know anything about this guy, and he seems to be in bed with some really bad guys.”

“Just like my brother,” Ames responded dryly, then remembered that anything she said might be used against Elliot, and she zipped her lips again.

Ted shook his head. “All right. I’ll go talk to Bobby and see where he’s at. You sit tight.”

He left her alone in the break room. She looked longingly at the coffeepot. The rich coffee aroma almost quelled the stench of old popcorn, and she wished she’d accepted a cup. She was shivering, probably from nerves, and could use a warm brew.

Ames slumped in her chair again and drummed her nervous fingers on the plastic tabletop. What now? For the past few hours, she hadn’t thought beyond getting Nick free of his obligation to the Espositos. Now she had to worry about being drawn into a court case. Maybe Nick would be asked to take a stand against the crime family and end up relocated in witness protection. Would Ames be forced to tell everything she’d learned about her brother? Could she bring herself to betray him? It was far too much to think about right now, when all she wanted was to lie down and snatch a few hours of oblivion.

And Nick? What about Nick? Is our fling over just as quickly as it started? Will he go back to New York? What happens next? She wondered if she’d go after him if he went back east and almost smiled when she realized that, yeah, she might.





“I can’t tell you anything without speaking to a lawyer first,” Nick repeated for what felt like the fortieth time.

They’d let him stew for at least an hour before coming in to talk to him. He’d worried about what they’d do to Ames but then decided she was one of their own. They’d treat her well, at least for the moment. That helped. Instead of growing more agitated with fear, he’d taken the opportunity to grab a quick nap.

Now Bobby Brown, the deputy, not the rapper, stared him down with pigheaded stubbornness. Likely this was the biggest case he’d had in his career as a law enforcement officer. Traffic tickets and public loitering were more his domain. “Cooperate and you’ll get off lighter. Just give me a simple statement.”

“I request a lawyer, please.”

“You’re not under arrest.”

Nick was fairly certain that was only because Brown hadn’t found something he could throw at Nick.

He waited.

Bobby crossed his arms. “Like I said, you don’t need a lawyer.”

Nick gritted his teeth and shifted in his chair. Despite the nap, he was bone-tired and so anxious to see Ames he could hardly think straight. Police involvement was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. Thanks a lot, Jake.

“Look, Officer Brown, I’m not trying to be uncooperative, but it’s been a helluva night. I’m sure it’s been for you too, having to shoot that guy.”

“Who you identified as not being Roberto Esposito. You might as well tell me everything. I’ve already heard most of it from Jake anyway.”

“What did he say?”

Yeah, like Brown was going to volunteer that information. But then the cop surprised him with a grunt. “He had a lot to say. The most interesting thing he told me was that you, Elliot and Ames Jensen are up to your armpits in organized-crime nonsense.”

“She’s not.” Nick’s answer was automatic, though he was stupid to volunteer a single word. It just happened that way when it came to Ames. His response was knee-jerk: protect her. Keep her safe.

He closed his eyes and thought about those last few moments in the house after the gun had gone off outside.

Nick had panicked. He’d swept all the money into the garbage bag and shoved it at Bert. “Go on, leave,” Nick had said. He’d given them fast directions around the woods back to the main road.

“I’m not going without the flash drive,” Bert had said. Phil had raised his gun, pointing it at Nick to show he meant business too.

“Fine, goddamn it.” Nick had told them where to find the rock in the woods where he’d hidden the flash drive. Anything to get them on their way so he could go help Ames.

Bert had paused to look out the window, the garbage bag of money slung over his shoulder. He backed away from the front of the house. “I’ll be in touch.”

“No.” Nick halted his frantic dash to the front door. “We’re done, you and I, Bert. I don’t want to hear from you again.” But his old friend was already out the back door.

And Nick had given up his only leverage with the Espositos in his hurry to get to Ames.

Bobby Brown was talking to him. “Wake up, Rossi. Why don’t you tell me what you know? I dug up your name, so I know you’ve got a past with these guys. Give me something to work with, and I’ll decide who I need to keep my eye on.”

Nick fought the urge to tell him anything, just to get the hell out of this room. He needed to hold Ames. But he wouldn’t say anything until he knew for sure Bobby Brown couldn’t be bought.

Esposito money had paid for more than one officer of the law over the years. His father’s fate nagged at him. They’d trusted Agent Kennedy, and he turned right around and told the Espositos all about Rossi’s approach to the FBI.

Kennedy’s boss, Giordano, probably was a straight arrow. He’d gone after Kennedy after the attack on Nick’s father. Giordano had a hard-on for the Espositos once it became clear that someone in his group had been turned. Giordano had come to see Nick a couple of times over the years, and he’d closed the door in the agent’s face. Nick’s father had survived the attack, but just barely, and their lives had been trashed.

No more trusting law enforcement.

But Nick had to admit this small town seemed different.

All those people showing up at once—that just didn’t happen, in his experience. It would be hard to sweep corruption and bad business under the rug in Arnesdale. But he couldn’t count on that, could he? Not when it came to Ames. He swallowed most of his worry and leaned forward so his hands rested on the table. He looked into Bobby Brown’s flat gray eyes.

“Listen. I’m with you on this because I want all the garbage with the Espositos over and done with. I want to get my life back. I will talk, but only to Tom Giordano of the FBI. And by the way? I’ll tell Agent Giordano the same thing I’m telling you now. Ames doesn’t know a damned thing more than Jake.”

“The FBI?” Bobby’s brows furrowed. “I’ve already alerted the state police for help. I’m not sure we need to involve the feds yet.”

“What else can you go with? I bet those two guys in the hospital aren’t going to talk to you, and what do you have on them? Let me guess. Their story is that the gunshot wound was an accident. Idiot number one was cleaning his gun when it went off and hit idiot two?” He didn’t think Les and Duffy were actually idiots, but he wasn’t going to give so much as their names to Brown.

Brown frowned and looked away.

Nick figured he’d gotten it right but tried, “Are you going to attempt to get them on something like carrying a gun without a permit?”

Brown made a disgusted noise. “The laws are looser here than in New York. They told me that too. They know their gun laws.”

“Here’s something I know about the Espositos, and you are not going to like it.” Nick drew in a long breath, wondering if exhaustion and the desire to get the hell out of the station were making him too chatty. He released the sigh. The information wouldn’t hurt Ames, and that was what mattered. “Sometime in the next hour or so, the best lawyers in the state are going to show up in Arnesdale, and they’re going to get those two out of here. If you try to stop them, then your friend with the shotgun. What’s his name—”

Bobby Brown scratched his chin. “Gopher.”

Ames’s boss who made the great fried chicken? Probably. So Nick would have to try protect him too. After years of keeping only his own butt and job safe, he was back to trying to protect people he cared about. Somehow it didn’t bother him as much as he once would have guessed.

He went on, “If you or your friend Gopher press charges, Gopher is going to end up getting a civil case slapped on him that’ll clean him out. He put an injured man in restraints, if I remember what happened correctly.”

The whole morning had felt like a dream. A nightmare, actually. Ames alone with two killers, and he’d walked away from her only to hear that gun going off. Jesus, he’d aged a thousand years during those seconds. He rubbed his eyes and got back to the matter at hand. “Those high-priced lawyers will have Gopher’s tooth fillings before they’re done. The two guys in the hospital will leave town as soon as humanly possible, and they will punish anyone who tries to stop them.”

“You’re talking from experience?” Bobby Brown leaned forward in his chair. “They’ve done that for you, have they?”

No. They did it to me and my family.

“Have you found Bert Esposito yet?” Nick asked.

Brown didn’t answer for a moment, then surprised Nick by talking again. “I think he took off from a small airport, ninety miles south of here. A friend in the state police is checking on that.”

Nick only said, “I’ll talk to the feds but, like I said, only to Agent Tom Giordano.”

He didn’t have a lot he could give them, but if anyone could squeeze something useful from Nick’s description of the book and flash drive, it would be Giordano.

The agent was a humorless workaholic but Nick was fairly sure he was an honest jerk. As certain as Nick could be—he trusted only a couple of people in the world.

Brown reached for a mug of coffee and drank, watching Nick over the rim. Nick gazed at the swirling script on the mug spelling out World’s Best Uncle. He amused himself for a few seconds, imagining Bobby Brown’s relatives presenting him with the gift.

Brown tapped his fingers on the side of the cup and nodded. “All right. Where are you going to be staying? At your house?”

Nick wasn’t going to volunteer anything he didn’t have to. “You have my cell phone number. I won’t leave the town limits, so it’ll be easy to find me.”

Brown drained the coffee and stood. “You’re right. I got nothing to keep you here. And nothing on Les Delgado and Danny Duflin.”

Nick raised his brows. “You got their names that fast?”

“Both have been arrested before. Never convicted, though, so they’re allowed guns.” Bobby Brown frowned again and put down the mug firmly. “Okay. I’ll call your Agent Giordano. They probably already know I’m interested because of the Internet search I did.” He muttered something about goddamn feds.

“Giordano’s in the New York office,” Nick said and flashed back on all the hours he’d spent in Federal Plaza. But more time there would be worth it, to keep Ames safe—and maybe get the Espositos to leave him be. Even after the last few weeks of misery he wouldn’t mind if Elliot got off scot-free. The jerk might have messed up Nick’s life, but he’d given him something—Ames.

Brown led him to the front of the police station, which also operated as the village hall. They found a couple of uniformed cops, a janitor…and Ames. His heart soared like in some greeting card or love poem, and the strength of his emotion made him finally understand what all the fuss was about when people declared their love. He feasted on the sight of Ames—deceptively soft and vulnerable looking with her wide eyes shadowed from the long night and her hair tangled in a frizz of curls. But he knew she wasn’t really that soft, nor was she weak. The woman had a will of iron and the bite of a tigress. She was a survivor, and she would protect her own. Astonishingly, she apparently viewed Nick as someone worth calling “hers”.

A small, gray-haired woman with eyebrows plucked into surprised arches sat behind the desk at the front entrance of the jail. She smiled at him and looked ready to talk, the way so many people in this town did, simply chatting up random strangers.

Nick needed Ames alone, where he could hold her, so he grabbed her and pulled her past the nosy receptionist into the fresh evening air. He drew in a lungful and felt as if he could breathe for the first time in days. He wanted to haul Ames up against him and kiss her until the whole world went away, but Brown and the others might be watching them from the ornate brick municipal building. He didn’t give a rat’s ass who saw, but this was Ames’s town and she might care.

She looked up and down the sidewalk and crossed her arms against a cool breeze. “What’re you going to do now?”

“I promised I’d stay in town. Deputy Brown is going to contact me soon.”

“You call him Deputy Brown?”

“He seems to want to keep our relationship formal.”

Finally she looked at him, her brow puckered with concern. “Poor Nick. Was the questioning awful?”

“Nope. Not even close.”

“Did Bobby tell you anything new? Like maybe something about Elliot?” She sounded so hopeful he wished he could say something optimistic, but was too tired to put a spin on it.

“Not a word. I’m sorry. The Esposito guys in the hospital aren’t talking.” He took a step toward her, unable to resist getting close to that trim little body. “So. Your place is walking distance from here.”

“That way.” She nodded toward the east then looked at him with questioning eyes. “Want to join me for breakfast?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Food was the last thing on his mind, but he wasn’t going to let Ames out of his sight. Besides, her invitation seemed to be about more than breakfast.

They strolled along the sidewalk, past several storefronts, behind the windows of which Nick could feel curious eyes watching them. Then they turned onto a side street and left the “shopping district” behind. Leafy branches shaded their path. Big old houses with wide front porches sprawled on generous green lawns.

“Nice neighborhood,” he said.

“Mine’s just an apartment. Maizie Jones converted her house to several apartments and, boy, you should’ve heard the neighbors call to arms at the zoning meeting. But Maizie had sway with the board, so her request made it through.”

Nick smiled at the small-town politics, actually not so different from city wards, where those with connections got what they wanted.

“And here we are.” Ames turned up the pathway to another Craftsman. Plants hung from the eaves of the porch and the upper windows regarded them like sleepy eyes. She trotted up the stairs, which had been added to one side—no wonder the neighbors had complained—and reached under a flowerpot for the door key.

“Left my purse at your house,” she explained as she unlocked. “Although I suppose locking at all is pointless when the key’s so easy to find.”

“I thought people in the Midwest didn’t lock up at all.”

“Not so much, but I figured under the circumstances…” She smiled and pushed the sticking door open with a shove of her shoulder. He’d picked her up here, but hadn’t come in. He could imagine what her apartment would look like—warm colors, inviting furniture, lots of throw pillows, a safe nest to roost in.

The door opened right into the living room, no hallway or foyer. Clearly some walls had been taken out to turn what had once been bedrooms into a living room and kitchenette. The awkwardly laid-out space had a homey vibe that reflected its owner, from the yellowish hue of the walls to the cotton curtains at the windows. The furniture appeared squashy and comfortable, and the area rug that marked the living area was worn bare in spots. Bookshelves and end tables overflowed with stuff. It was clear Ames was a bit of a packrat and needed more space. Like a house in the country.

“Let’s see. I hope I have coffee…and cereal. And milk to put on the cereal.” Ames headed into the kitchen and peered hopefully into the fridge. “Unfortunately, I was going to go shopping after our lunch out. Was that only yesterday? How do you feel about stale Pop-Tarts?”

Nick followed her into the kitchen and closed the door on the nearly empty fridge. “I’m not really hungry. Are you?”

Ames slumped against the appliance. She seemed pale; her eyes looked enormous. She appeared cute and vulnerable, and he wanted to kiss away the shadows under her eyes. “No. More like exhausted but kind of wired too. I feel like I’m buzzing like a power line.”

“Adrenaline. Takes a while to work it out of your system.”

She tipped her head back to look up at him. God, she was a tiny thing. Before he met her, he’d never known he had a protective streak. Or a mile-wide yen for feisty females. A slow smile showed the dimple in her cheek, and suddenly the yen to protect her turned into something even more primitive.

“Got any ideas about ways to unwind?” She squinted and wrinkled her nose. “Aw, geez. You must think I’m some kind of nympho. Trust me, I’m not usually like this, but around you…”

He smiled and slid his hands around her waist. “Me too. Guess it’s just chemistry.”

“Or heightened emotions from being in a life-or-death situation.”

“Like last night. But I think we should experiment. You know, find out if we still enjoy ourselves. Because I really, really”—he kissed his way along her jaw with each really—“really enjoyed you.” She made a breathy sound deep in her throat. He stroked the sweet curve of her hip. “Yeah. I remember you said something about long, slow lovemaking. I’d like that more than breakfast.” He bent and plucked at her soft lips with little nibbling kisses that quickly bloomed into something fuller and deeper.

“Mm.” Ames pulled away but not far. “I’d kill for a shower. We can clean up and work on your experiments at the same time.”

“Sounds perfect.” He followed her to the bedroom, where they both shed their clothes unselfconsciously. He managed to keep his hands off her, though his eyes were glued to her rear as they raced to the bathroom. Ames got the water running, and they wedged into the small space.

The pressure was poor and the water only lukewarm, so it wasn’t so much a sexy shower as a chance to quickly wash away the sweat and tension of the past twenty-four hours. Even so, he traced the shape of her curves with a soapy cloth, and she nearly purred as he scrubbed shampoo into her scalp. Turned out fast showers could be sexy too. After they’d washed clean, Nick held Ames close while the water drummed against them. When it switched from lukewarm to cold, he shut off the tap, warmed her chilling skin against his, laughing as they toweled dry in record speed.

Only after they’d tumbled into her squeaky bed did things begin to heat up. Their moist bodies pressed together, making steam beneath the covers. Nick threaded his fingers through her damp curls and cradled the back of Ames’s skull. He looked into her eyes, so big and blue and open and honest, and felt the harder bits of himself chipping away, leaving him exposed and vulnerable to her.

Sadness turned down the corners of her sweet mouth.

He kissed those corners and the place where the dimple usually showed. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m never going to see my brother again, am I?”

Not if he knows what’s best for him. “I don’t think so.”

“What about you?” Her eyes moved as if trying to read his mind with her gaze. “Am I going to see more of you, or are you planning to head back to New York?”

“Well…” Logic told him this town was no place for him. He fit in about as well as a fish in a birdcage. New York was pretty much out of the question too, since he wanted to stay away from the Esposito family, but he needed to live in a city with a museum. “I have some personal things to clear up there, but I have a house in Arnesdale now, so of course I’m coming back.”

“Hm. Can’t think of any other reason to return?” A glimmer of a smile curved her mouth again.

He slid a hand all the way down her spine and cupped her bottom. “Not really,” he teased.

Ames reached between them to take his cock in her fist; then, instead of stroking it, she gave an almost painful squeeze. “No reason at all other than owning some property?”

Yeah. He was going to get so very lucky. His cock swelled but so did something deep in his chest. His sassy, chatty Ames was back, and he wanted all of her.

“No. But hey, I have an idea. Maybe you could do something for me. Could I hire you as my interior designer? You go in and fix up the house exactly as you envisioned it. I’m sure I’d love whatever you do to it.”

Ames didn’t answer, although her grip on his cock loosened.

“I’m serious on that last part, Ames. Will you?”

When she remained silent, he grew worried that she might have taken his joking seriously. “You know I’ll be coming back for you, right? I was just kidding before.”

“Good. Because I want to spend time with you too,” she said softly. “And I know Arnesdale isn’t exactly your kind of place. Maybe in the long run you won’t be able to stay here, but for as long as you can—”

He stopped her words with a kiss. He didn’t want to think about the future, possibly facing a court case, trying to find a new job. All he wanted right now was to be in the moment with Ames.

When he pulled away, she whispered, “And yes, I’d be happy to fix up your house, if you trust my judgment. You could come back to gingham or a goose motif, you know.”

“I’ve seen your apartment. I think I’ll be in good hands. Anyway,” he added, “it’s really your house. It always was.”