Playing with Fire (17 page)

She moved aside, relinquishing the phone. Nick gave her a sidelong look and then took it, settling in the seat. “Mr. Grazi. It’s an honor.”

“I do know your name. Chicago, right?”

Nick nodded. “I thought you might recognize it. I’m taking good care of her, but … we have an interesting situation. On two different occasions there have been shootings in her vicinity and I can’t tell you that she wasn’t supposed to be the target. If you have thoughts, I’d love to hear any or all of them.”

Swiftly, Nick related how he’d been approached, and then he described both shootings in an oblique way that only implied what was going on, but her father got it fast enough.

He frowned. “I have enemies, but I also have friends. I can’t see how striking back at me through my little girl would gain anyone anything but a load of trouble.”

“What about her ex-husband? She says no.”

“I agree. If Ray was going to swing that way, he would have done something years ago, and besides, he knows better. He’d never be seen again. We’ve had that conversation and I promise you, he knows I mean it.”

It was Nick’s turn to rub his jaw. “I was kind of hoping you could point me in the right direction.”

“Oh, I’ll ask the people who would know, believe me.”

Nick said evenly, “She’s staying with me for now.”

“I appreciate it.” Her father’s voice was grim. “Take good care of her.”

“No problem, sir. I’ve been doing my best.”

Nick got up and handed her the phone again. Reign sat back down and said, “I got the design offer I wanted. My own line with my name on it for a prestigious retailer.”

“Baby, congratulations.”

“Thanks.… I’m pretty happy.”

“Yeah, well stay happy. Let Fattelli handle this situation, agreed?”

It was hard not to be surprised. Her father was shrewd about people. In fact, he’d told her many times that it was fine to like a stranger, but you were a fool to ever trust one. “I’m pretty self-sufficient,” she said slowly. “Always have been, remember?”

“That only works if you know the enemy.” Her father’s knuckles were white, he was holding the receiver so tightly. “Listen to me. I’ve heard about him. He’s good at what he does, but … there’s a code, right? That means something right there. That he bothered to come see me is impressive, and that you let him means even more to me. We all make mistakes, but you are a smart girl and always have been. What have I always told you? Use your gut. If he seems on the level, then his particular talents are to your advantage.”

Her thoughts exactly, though it had taken her considerably longer to come to that conclusion than this short conversation.

“I’ll take that advice under consideration.” She gently placed the receiver back in the cradle. Every single time she left she felt like crying and this time was no different. She lifted her chin and fought the emotion.

The fences, the towers … God. She couldn’t wait to get away, and somehow that felt traitorous.

Reign glanced over at Nick in the car as they pulled away. “So?”

“So?” His expression was neutral. “I thought you were taking me out to dinner. I believe you insisted.”

He didn’t want to talk about it. Fine, she really didn’t either.

He did look very nice in a crisp white shirt and tailored slacks, and she’d chosen something crimson and slinky. “Le Château. We have reservations.”

“Sounds fabulous. How many strings did you have to pull for that one?”

“A few. I hope you like French food.”

“If I’m having dinner with you, a fast food hamburger would be fine. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Reign had to admit she didn’t really expect the question. “Tell you? About what?”

“The clothing-line deal.” His gaze was focused on the traffic, but she got the impression he was very much paying attention to her reaction. He was affronted on some level too. Hurt? It was hard to tell. Was it even possible to hurt a man like him?

Nick was like that. She’d already figured out that what you saw was not what you got.

And Sal had called
her
guarded?

“I was going to tell you over a glass of fine French wine and an appetizer that probably included escargot or Brie or something.”

His wide shoulders relaxed a fraction.

“But,” she said quietly, “I don’t see my father that often and he has always encouraged me in my career. I told Maria first. She’s not just my sister but my best friend. Then I needed to tell him next. He worries about us.”

“And he’s inside, so he can’t take care of you.”

“Something like that, I suppose.”

“I get it.” His expression said he did.

“Did your father ever do time?” She had to admit she was curious about his family. It had started to get dark, the sky deepening to purple above the city.

“No.”

This was Nick. He said nothing else, which didn’t surprise her. The masculine symmetry of his features was highlighted by the growing dusk and streetlights. His wavy hair brushed his collar.

It was the first—very startling—moment that Reign realized she might fall in love with him.

That wasn’t her. She didn’t fall in love. Sal didn’t count. Who wouldn’t fall in love with an idealistic man who was not only beautiful outside but also beautiful inside? Had she realized before their affair started that he was going to be so involved, she never would have allowed it.

It wasn’t like Ray either. It had taken a while to admit it to herself, but his easy charm was superficial. He’d wanted to get her into bed, and he’d wanted to have a connection to her family. She’d just been too young and inexperienced to realize her ex-husband was shallow and self-centered, and just because someone said they loved you didn’t mean it was the truth. In a way, she was grateful to him, though that sounded ridiculous, but the man had truly made her grow up very fast, and she was a better mother for it.

Nick was hardly idealistic and didn’t pretend to be.

Quite the opposite.

A hard realist with instincts that made a barracuda look cuddly, and a rock-hard approach to life that didn’t give an inch of space if he didn’t want to let it go.

She’d met men like him before—or had she? Of his ilk, maybe, but no one quite
like
him.

“My father liked you.” She said the words to him, but looked straight out the windshield instead of
at
him.

“You sound surprised.” Nick looked amused, expertly guiding the car into a different lane. “That’s not exactly flattering.”

“He doesn’t like everyone,” Reign informed him. “As a matter of fact, you should plaster a medal on your chest he even chose to talk to you.”

“Any man courting another man’s daughter has to face that firing squad.”

She finally turned her head and considered him from the passenger seat. “For someone who is living in this day and age, you choose some interesting language. Does anyone court anymore? I think we’ve done a bit beyond that.”

*   *   *

She had a point, but Reign needed to understand he’d grown up with pretty old-fashioned beliefs. His mother would never be anything but pure Sicilian, and his father would skin him alive if he ever treated a woman with less than the utmost respect—God rest his soul.

An interesting standard, true, but a standard nonetheless.

Honor was always a non-negotiable facet to every personality. Nick thought it was probably as varied as the human species. He said, “We’ve slept together but that is entirely different from me courting you.”

“Now we are really slipping back into the dark ages. You don’t need to court me.”

“Nice to know. You just fall into bed with every guy you meet? Because I bet most of them ask.”

That ticked her off. “Of course I don’t. Stop being an asshole.”

“Ah, see, now we’re on the same page.” He didn’t think that at all, but anger was better than her pensive expression when she’d left her father. He got it in spades, because to tell the truth, he’d rather have visited his father in prison than get the news he was dead, but he doubted it was easy.

She glared at him, and he had to admit that accusatory flare in her eyes was arousing.

Reign didn’t do anything halfway. “
Is
that what you think?”

A dog ran across the road, and he swerved and wondered what the hell a dog was doing loose in this neighborhood. “Could we skip this argument?” he suggested. “I like you and I think you like me back.… We’re all on the same page.”

“Until you just suggested I was a slut.”

“Lord, Reign, you know I did no such thing.”

She was quiet for a few minutes, looking out over the sun setting across the Hudson River. Then she sighed. “You know the very worst part about sleeping with a guy?”

Nick had to choke down a laugh, but he was relieved her tone had calmed. “I can say with some authority that, no, I don’t. Never slept with one. In case you haven’t noticed, I like women.”

She had the grace to grin. “Okay, maybe I phrased it wrong, but the trouble comes from the immediate sense of possession. Why is it not possible for a man to feel you are special and therefore different? I’d love to know what the fuck the problem is. You all do your best to get us into bed, and then you’re outraged when we agree. Oh, you like it at the time, but once the blood returns to your brain, you start wondering if it wasn’t such a big deal.”

“Was it?”

The river was quiet except for a water authority boat cruising by and one lone tanker.

“Yes,” she replied, staring out the window. “It was a big deal, Nicky. But I’m going to tell you here and now, I don’t deal well with issues of trust. Not on either side. I need to trust you, and you need to trust me, or it just doesn’t work.”

She looked … vulnerable. Very beautiful with her slender neck and remote profile and sleek dark hair, but also like someone he wanted to protect. It was taking him out of his comfort zone, and maybe he was not reacting in the right way, but surely he was allowed to have feelings as well.

It took him a minute but he admitted, “It was kind of a big deal for me too.”

Chapter

S
IXTEEN

She’d been right about the pasta.

As delicious as she remembered.

Driving back from dinner, he passed a taxi with easy expertise. Negotiating traffic in New York was definitely an acquired skill and took some fortitude.

“That was a nice dinner.”

Reign agreed.

“I’m sorry we had the misunderstanding.”

It was said in an emotionless tone, but she was starting to realize that Nick used that fairly ordinary tone often to disguise any semblance of deeper feeling, and maybe it was just as well. She was far too involved already with such an enigmatic man.

In her opinion, that he was approached to kill her and that was a catalyst to their relationship was not just a misunderstanding, but the conciliatory attempt was noted. She had the sense that he did not apologize easily.

To lighten the mood, she recounted her story of visiting the hospital. “At first, when the nurse told me his doctor was interested in Sal, I just thought it was kind of funny. Not because he isn’t good-looking and smart, but because the nurse was having so much fun with it. Then I saw them together.… I think it is possible.”

“Less competition for me.”

“Hmm, he was never competition and don’t flatter yourself either, because Sal and I split long before you—”

“We’re being followed.”

The terse interruption stopped her mid-sentence. “What?”

“Oh yeah.” Nick switched lanes and glanced back in the rearview mirror. “Son of a bitch,” he swore softly. “And he’s good too. I can usually spot a tail pretty easily.”

Reign had to admit her stomach tightened. “So what are you going to do?”

“If you weren’t with me, I’d lead him somewhere isolated and if he had the guts to follow once he realized what I was doing, and I think this one might, we’d have ourselves a little conversation. But you
are
with me, so I think instead I am going to go visit a friend of mine.”

“Who?”

“He might be able to help me out with this small problem, and luckily, he doesn’t live too far away.”

Obviously “who” was not going to be offered up and she didn’t ask again. “All right. Can I do something?”

“Sit tight and hold on. I’d try and lose this guy, but you know, it would be much more satisfying to have him stick with me.”

She put her hand on the side of the door as he whipped around a curve. “I’m just going to trust you.”

Reign already had in many ways.

“Stay low, got it?”

“I’m not all that new to this game, Fattelli.”

“A game like this?” The car accelerated and so did her pulse.

“Being followed? No, but don’t sell me short. I meant I’ve tried to stay off the radar my entire life.”

“Fuck.” His gaze was fastened on the traffic but kept swiftly changing to the rearview mirror. “Sell you short? That I would never do. I’m going to press a number on my phone. Could you please tell the person who answers we are on our way? Just say my name.”

She did it. The person who picked up was not full of surprise, and she hadn’t heard an Irish accent that thick in quite some time. He asked one quick question once she identified herself as being with Nick Fattelli.

“Make and model of the car behind you?”

Nick said to her, “Black Buick and it’s pretty new. Tell him we’ll be at his place in ten minutes.”

She did and signed off. Lights flashed by. “Who was that?”

“Pat.”

“Pat who?”

“We aren’t going to go into details.” Nick didn’t precisely run a light but he first slowed and then sped through it as if at the last minute he decided he had time, and murmured, “If they find us at his place, we are going to know a few things.”

*   *   *

Patrick Stevens was not Italian, but hey, no one was perfect. He was a thickset older man that might remind a person of someone who could dig ditches or toss trash into a truck, but he was the single quickest mind when it came to surveillance that Nick had ever met, and absolutely ruthless. He answered the door to his brownstone wearing jeans so faded they were almost white and a Jets jersey.