Dead and Disorderly (Behind the Blue Line Series Book 2) (6 page)

Nico had a vendetta against the clock. Every time he looked up from the report he was writing, it was half an hour closer to when he had to get out the door if he was going to make the reservations. The second missing child had been gone longer than the first and had ended up on a city bus on the other side of town from where he’d started. Always a joy. Now he had to finish his seemingly endless notes and hope nothing important came up between now and the time he needed to leave.

Nigel wandered in the door across the room, loaded down with coffee, his laptop, and a backpack that looked like it might have been better to invest in a pack mule. The other man acknowledged him with a raise of his chin which Nico returned before ducking back down into his report.

It was another half an hour before he looked up again, this time because he had a tall blond man leaning against his desk with an expectant look on his face. “May I help you?”

Nigel’s grin was sly as he slid into the chair Nico normally reserved for distraught family members and witnesses. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me out the other night.”

Nico gave him a reproving look before he turned back to his computer screen. “If you’re gearing up to ask for another favor, you can keep it. Last time I did you a favor I was damn near scared to death. Nothing personal, but I’m sure I neither want, nor need, anything else from you. Though I appreciate you thinking of me.”

The blond man laughed and leaned back in the chair crossing his arms and legs. “Ha. Nah, nothing like that. Just curious as to how it went.”

Nico regarded him for a moment, attempting to assess his friend’s intentions. “You could ask Nahia.”

“I’m asking you.”

Turning back to his computer, Nico resumed typing. “It was scary as hell. Never dealt with anything like it. And that was after meeting Nye. Nice girl.”

“Just nice?”

Maybe it was the tone, or the slightly sharp stare of which he was on the business end, but Nico had things to do and the last thing he wanted to do was discuss his thoughts on Nahia with her best friend. “Look, having three younger sisters, I’ve been on both sides of this ‘if you hurt her, they won’t find your body’ discussion. I’m cool with that. It’s just dinner. She’s a nice girl and I wanted to take her out. Nothing more. Okay?” From Nigel’s widening smile, he knew he’d said too much. “Look—”

Nigel was up out of the chair and leaning against his side of the desk, a wicked grin on his face. “Dinner, huh? Do tell.”

Nico read over his last paragraph and made a couple adjustments before he submitted it. The moment he hit enter, he was up, grabbing his suit jacket, radio and gun. “I’ve said much more than I needed to already. You have a great night.”

“You too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Nigel called after him.

Right before the elevator doors closed to take him to his car in the basement, Nico muttered, “Like I’d tell you if I did.”

Nahia practically pounced on her phone when it rang on the counter. She bounded from the back with a handful of new pendula and a couple new boxes of tarot to restock her shelves, coming to a screeching halt by the counter, moving fast enough to completely muss her hair. “Wellington’s Magickal Apothecary!” She cringed at the sound of her own voice, all breathy and high-pitched, like she’d been caught
in flagrante
, or something.

“You okay?” the laughing voice on the other end of the phone asked.

She flipped her chest-length bangs out of her face, reminded again why she favored braids over just letting her hair run free. “No, I’m good. Sorry. Caught me in the back restocking.”

“Okay, you ready to go?” The door chime she heard in the background cut off abruptly.

She quickly hung up the pendula and stuck the decks of cards on a shelf. A quick once-over, hair down and reasonable, a thin cotton peasant shirt, and jeans, well, just jeans, she nodded. Good to go. “Yeah, ready whenever you are.”

“Come on out then.”

Nahia inched over to the front window to see Nico leaning casually against the side of a low-slung gunmetal grey Nissan coupe with tinted windows. Damn, he looked good with his rolled up sleeves, hands in his pockets with the tail of his tie hanging out of one. “Be right out.”

She hung up and ran through the store shutting down lights and checking locks. Last thing she did was stick her head behind her tapestry and holler up the stairs, “Mags, I’m out! It’s locked down here.”

“Be safe! Take a chance! Have fun!” her friend called back down to her.

Nahia was still smiling when she locked the door and stepped into the night. The nerves she felt in the daylight evaporated in the encroaching dusk. Night was her time, always had been, and with the darkness came the confidence to meet his appreciative smile with one of her own. “Nice ride. Department?”

Nico sighed as he held the door for her to slide into the passenger seat. “I just left headquarters, and didn’t have time to go home and change it out. I hope it’s okay.”

She waited until he was in the car with her to answer, taking her time to notice each little extra switch and unobtrusive change. Really, as undercover cars go, it was hard to tell any real difference. “Of course it is. I was just curious.”

He pulled smoothly into the traffic outside the building and turned left to head south, sparing her a sidelong glance at the light. “Nigel doesn’t let you ride in his?”

She raked her upper lip with her teeth trying to contain the instant giggle the memory produced. “See, we were young, it was his first police car. I was drunk, really, really drunk, and called him for a ride home from the bar. He was cool, put me in the front seat, and I promptly vomited. All over everything.”

He cringed as he turned eastbound on South Street into the cute old neighborhood with the rows of brick townhouses. “Oh no, no good at all.”

She nodded. “Yeah, so I haven’t been in a car with him since. The bad thing about having a friendship as old as ours is that the grudges are just as old.”

He nodded, a slightly wistful smile on his face. “I get that. I have friends from growing up that still live in the old neighborhood. When I go back to visit my family, it’s like I never left.” He pulled the car into a space not far from the patio dining area of Ianucci’s, a restaurant known citywide both for its phenomenal Italian food and its damn near unattainable reservation status.

She felt disturbingly flattered he’d gone to such effort on her behalf. “Pulling out all the stops, huh?”

Nico came around and opened the door for her like it was the most natural thing in the world for him. “Not quite. See, Mrs. Ianucci is my Nonna’s third cousin twice removed or something like that; they came over together after the war. She’s looked after me since I moved here. Her son Pete runs the place now.”

He also held the door into the restaurant for her, his hand on her back as he guided her inside igniting a wave of tingles that she only barely managed to suppress. “So where is your family?”

Nico waited to answer her until they were comfortably seated on the patio. It was beautiful under the deepening evening, with a breathtaking view of the Indy skyline, Sinatra and Dean Martin flowing softly from hidden nearby speakers. Perfect, and perfectly romantic…like a freight train. He wasn’t normally given to second thoughts, he was confident enough to trust himself most of the time, but suddenly looking around he realized he might have gone a bit overboard. “Is this okay?”

“Of course. It’s perfect.” She smiled, looking absolutely stunning in the candlelight. With her hair down and her flowing black shirt, she looked ethereal and he wanted nothing more than to touch her to see if she was real.

He held himself in check, especially in front of the waiter taking their drink orders, his a bourbon and hers a ‘porn star’ dirty martini. Damn, but she made him laugh. “Porn star?”

She nodded, a cute blush blossoming in her cheeks. “Yeah, I just didn’t want them to skimp on the olives.” Methodically unfolding her napkin and arranging her area, she looked up at him through hooded lashes, “So you don’t like to talk about your family?”

“What? No, not at all.” Hell, he’d been so distracted by her, he’d lost the train of the conversation. “Mom, Dad, Charlie, Bea, and Jules all still live in the neighborhood. It’s called Todt Hill, on the northeastern side of Staten Island. Nonna lives in a nursing home, excuse me, an assisted living community not far from there, with her latest conquest, Richard, and they’re all pretty well-adjusted and happy.”

Nahia blinked, looked stunned as he listed off the people in his life. The waiter brought their drinks and she took a decent sip before saying, “Sounds like a big bunch.”

“They are, and wild, too, once you add in all my nieces and nephews, varying aunts, uncles, cousins, and the rotating cast of characters that are my sisters’ boyfriends.”  He’d never really given it any thought; it was just how it was. “Your family’s small, huh?”

She shrugged, toying with the little green sword in her martini glass that skewered her olives. “Yeah, pretty much. Just me and my parents here, with everybody else living everywhere. No siblings, but I’ve always had Nigel. We grew up next door to each other.”

“And you have my sympathies,” he said, toasting her after he sipped his drink. The burn of the bourbon down his throat settled him down, relaxed him. The conversation was flowing a lot easier than he thought it would, and he just added that to the growing list of things about her that fascinated him.

Her broad grin cut dimples into her cheeks. “Eh, he’s okay when he’s not trying to marry me off. He’s one babushka away from being a
shadchan
.”

“Yiddish? Really? I haven’t heard that word in a very long time.” And she continually surprised him, this time with a tone from home that warmed him more than the liquor. “What do you mean he’s trying to marry you off?”

The waiter came and took their orders and menus, leaving them alone in the surprisingly cozy and mostly deserted patio. Nahia ducked her head, running her fingers through her shiny black tresses. “Do you think it was an accident that he was suddenly unavailable to ghost hunt with me? He’s damn near professional in his matchmaking skills.”

Nico felt himself blanch at her statement. He thought about his friend, the guy who sat at the desk next to him, had invited him to be in his wedding, happy, jovial, and he kinda wanted to choke him. Not that he minded the results in any way, but he felt like he’d been played. “Damn.”