Playing with Fire (7 page)

“What makes you think I know?”

“I’m going to give you some advice.” Nick smiled but he didn’t mean it, and the man across from him understood that. “I’m pretty uninterested in playing games.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Oh God, no. If I was threatening you, you wouldn’t have to ask.” He raised his brows in inquiry. “So? The hit on Ms. Grazi?”

“Her father has a lot of friends in high circles. That usually means a lot of enemies.”

“You in bed with him?”

“Her father?” Denton spread his hands. “We’ve some common business interests. It would be of no benefit to me to see his daughter out of the picture. As far as I know, she doesn’t participate in any of his ventures, except very indirectly.”

“How so? I sniffed around a little and I found no evidence she participated at all.”

“I believe she’s designed some pieces for a few boutiques he owns.”

Ah, used for money laundering, no doubt
. Assessing his sincerity, Nick inclined his head and stood. “The man I killed … any idea who he belongs to? The police can’t ID him.”

“None, but I’ll ask a few questions if you’d like. He certainly took a shot at the wrong man. I wonder if he had any idea who you are.”

“Oh, we’d met before. He knew. I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a call if you hear anything.”

Denton’s face had an amused expression. “I’d ask why you are so interested but I’ve met the lovely Reign. I assume you were in her bedroom for a reason. Is that why you didn’t take the hit?”

Nick said mildly, “See, that’s what I find so puzzling. How did you know I was approached in the first place?”

He heard Denton give a low laugh as he walked out the door.

It was almost impossible to park downtown on a Monday morning, so Nick had taken a cab, and now he hailed another one, wondering what to do next. Denton was a safe enough option. He gave the word “discreet” a whole new meaning, which was why he was so successful that he spent a great deal of time at his house in the Hamptons and vacationed in exotic places like Fiji and New Zealand. However, if Nick asked too many questions, especially in the wrong places, it would draw attention to the issue.

So how to handle it?

In his chosen profession, he was somewhat of a detective, which sounded incongruous given the purpose, but still held true. If he had a target, he needed to know—without anyone getting suspicious—everything he could about the subject. And he didn’t have the advantage of a badge and people being obligated to talk to him either, so his methods were backhanded at times, but he usually got the job done.

*   *   *

The church was gray stone, the cemetery encircled by an iron fence that had rust spots. There was lichen on some of the headstones and many of the names were barely legible. Even in the city it still seemed peaceful. Nick paid the driver and walked up the steps swiftly, instinctively doing the holy cross once he entered the vestibule. He even took the time to kneel in front of the altar before he backtracked to his brother’s office.

The door was open and he knocked lightly on the doorframe. “Busy?”

John was reading some document, but his gaze snapped up and his instant smile was genuine and nice to see. “Nick. Come on in.”

There was no doubt they were brothers. Same dark wavy hair, same blue eyes, but John wore a white collar and dispensed counseling and salvation, and Nick dispensed something quite different.

“Glad you’re alone.” Nick took a chair, which creaked ominously under his weight, and eyed the cluttered desk. “
Looks
like you’re busy.”

“Always.”

“Don’t give me the ‘work of God is never done’ speech or I’m out of here.”

“We both know I don’t bother to state the obvious, and your redemption is pretty dubious anyway. I haven’t seen you in three months.” There was reproof in John’s voice. “I’ve left several messages and sent texts.”

“Father, I have a confession, I’ve been busy. I’ve e-mailed about your financial portfolio.”

“Funny.” The papers were set aside. John’s brows rose. “Doing?”

“The usual. Drugs, sex, rock and roll.”

“Yeah, I don’t believe the drugs, except you do like expensive bourbon. We both know you can’t sing, but the sex part I’ll buy.” His brother voice was dry. “A truthful answer isn’t necessary. Just a general overview is fine.”

“I’ve been good. I visited Italy for a month. I just got back recently.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere. Mom was fine. She’s glad to be back in Sicily. I gained five pounds.”

John laughed. “I’ll bet. I always do.” Then he sobered. “The visit? Necessity or vacation?”

That was about as direct a question Nick ever received about what he did for a living. “A bit of both,” he answered evasively. “The world can be an unfriendly place now and then. Why is it the smell of being in a church makes me feel ten years old?”

“Come here more often and it might bring you into the present. I’m surprised the walls aren’t bleeding. I sense your visit has a purpose.”

He actually went to mass every single Sunday, but he wasn’t about to reveal that bit of information. John was intuitive and would want to know why he didn’t come to
this
church, and Nick didn’t have a straightforward answer. He wasn’t uncomfortable with his brother’s vocation, he just didn’t quite understand it.

“This has nothing to do with religion. You’re intelligent. I want to pick your brain a little.”

“Intelligent? What a compliment. I should hope I am, but we do come from the same parents, so maybe I am just fooling myself.”

Nick couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, you win that round. Let me rephrase. There are not a lot of people I feel I can discuss matters with confidentially, but you are one of them. Besides, your specialty is to give advice and I think I might need some.”

“So you are visiting the priest, not the brother?”

“I am visiting both, as it happens. People tend to think just because we bend the law now and then we aren’t family-oriented people, and that is the worst misconception on this planet. I trust you. I’d trust you with my life.”

“Let’s hope that isn’t an issue, but I’d protect you as well.” John leaned back in his chair. “What is it?”

How to answer that one? Nick took a minute. “How important is the truth if it frightens or hurts someone?”

“Is this pertinent or a just philosophical debate?” John’s blue eyes were very direct.

“Pertinent.” Nick thought about Reign. He said slowly, “I know someone in danger. I like this person, but explaining the situation might destroy our relationship.”

“Relationship” might have been stretching it a little. One hot morning of wild sex was
not
a relationship.

“You seem to care about ‘this person.’”

He did. Inexplicably. After one encounter? Usually with his lovers he was pretty detached. On purpose, but still detached. Nick muttered, “I don’t want her hurt.”

His brother, the priest, sat for a moment and seemed to reflect. “Her? So, a woman? What kind of danger is she in?”

“The bad kind.”

John frowned, picking up a pen and rolling it in his long fingers. “Is it because of you?”

“Actually, no.”

“That’s a surprise, given what you do. Okay, so what exactly are you asking me?”

Nick ran his hand through his hair. “You know, I’m not sure. I’m having a small moral crisis. That’s all. I know something she doesn’t and I’m trying to decide if I should tell her or not.”

“At the risk of sounding like a priest, can I mention that it is about time for the moral crisis?”

“No.” The word came out as a growl.

“I think I’d like to meet this woman that has you, of all people, rattled.”

No. His brother was a priest and Nick was … certainly not one. He was fairly sure Reign would find that amusing.

“I think
I
came here for advice, which I am not getting by the way.”

“How will she handle it?”

When Nick thought back on the other night, he was able to say honestly, “She’ll deal. That’s how she operates. Straightforward and, though ‘accepting’ isn’t the right word, she lives in this real world. Our world, to be specific.”

“Our world? Mob wife?”

“Mob ex-wife. I don’t sleep with married women, remember?”

“I’ve always admired that about you despite a few other flaws I have to overlook.” John’s smile was more of a boyish grin but he sobered quickly. “Nick, here is what I have to say. If you lose her through honesty, so be it. If you lose her because you said nothing, that will be very hard to live with, won’t it?”

Nick rubbed his forehead. “You know, I had a feeling you were going to preach something exactly like that.”

John slightly lifted his shoulders, his smile serene. “And when you walked through the door, I think you already knew the answer.”

Chapter

S
IX

He walked into the restaurant and heads turned.

Reign noted it as she sat at the table, smoothing the moisture on the side of her drink glass.

If she had to call it, the men recognized a dominant male when they saw one, and the women were just noticing a drop-dead gorgeous guy. Nick Fattelli leaned over to say something to the hostess and then focused his gaze in Reign’s direction when the woman pointed.

The place was expensive. Men who threw their money around didn’t do anything for her, but it wasn’t a bad sign either that he’d picked somewhere nice. She wore a form-fitting sapphire dress and had picked lipstick just a little darker than her usual shade for contrast. His appreciative look told her the time she’d put into the decision was worth it.

“Hi, beautiful.” Nick sat down and flashed white teeth in that killer smile that had initially caught her attention.

He looked irritatingly refreshed and healthy, and she felt a little mowed over by her day in comparison. “Hi back.”

It was like he went on full alert to her mood. “Did something happen?”

“No.” She picked up her drink and took a sip. A little something
had
happened, but he wouldn’t be interested in the nuances of her career. “All quiet on the Reign Supreme front. I’ve been staying with my sister until they replace the floor and closet doors and update my security system.”

“Good.” He had a slightly skeptical look on his face, but he seemed to accept she wasn’t ready to talk about it.

He ordered a martini, not dirty but straight up with a twist of lemon, and when the waitress left, he told Reign, “I rarely drink gin, but the bartender doesn’t know that. Hope it’s top-shelf.”

If the bartender had the slightest clue as to who he was serving, he’d take special care, of that she had no doubt. “I would think it would be impossible to ruin.”

“It’s the quality of the alcohol. Just like a beautiful woman. If she’s physically attractive but spoiled, selfish, or even worse, unintelligent, no thanks. I like that dress, by the way.”

“Thank you.” She took a sip of her drink.

His gaze dropped deliberately to her cleavage. “No, thank
you
. Am I leering? I’m trying not to, but I’m pretty sure the effort is wasted.”

It was odd how he could make her laugh, considering what she knew about him after checking with a few people who would have the information. He was freelance, not part of a particular family organization, but had a reputation for getting the job done swiftly and without any messy loose ends. Considering she’d seen him in action, she believed it. He was expensive, but thorough and professional. That faint accent she couldn’t place must be a hint of Sicilian from his childhood, because he hadn’t moved to the US until he was five, and he’d spent his childhood in Chicago.

Maybe they needed to get the conversation out of the way.

“Investment banker was a slight exaggeration, wasn’t it?” she said, deliberately setting her drink down. “You have an office, I understand that, but I get the impression that isn’t your primary occupation, which you know is what I’ve thought all along. It sounds to me like you inherited the family business.”

His father, according to her source, had been one of the best, and Nick was reputedly even better.

Faster, smarter, and more deadly.

Why the hell she found him so fascinating, she wasn’t sure, but maybe now she belonged to a rare and elite group of people in the world who could say a hit man saved their life.

The arrival of his drink negated her answer to that loaded question. Instead, after he took a drink, he said neutrally, “Top-shelf. Bombay Sapphire. Perfect.” He set the glistening glass down. “The food here is supposed to be phenomenal. You’re pretty fit—let’s not forget I’ve seen every inch of you—so let me guess, fish or chicken?”

“We aren’t going to talk about it?”

He regarded her over his glass, the crystal liquid glistening in the low lighting. “Reign, I think you ought to ask yourself how deep this conversation needs to go.”

He had a point. She’d slept with him just once. Maybe she was making it too complicated too quickly.

Back off
.

“Wrong. I’m a steak girl.” Reign picked up her menu. “But I do skip the potatoes usually. I love them, but we all have to make choices in this life. I refuse to give up pasta. I know it is cliché among every Italian woman, but you should taste my lasagna.”

Easy transition.

“Is that an invitation to dinner at your place soon? If so, I’m
in
.”

He meant it, but in a sexual way. When he’d called, she’d known this evening was about seduction. It just figured, Reign thought in resignation, that the first man she’d been attracted to since Salvatore was also not right for her. In an entirely different way, of course, but definitely not a good choice.

There was quiet music playing in the background, something classical that she liked. Vivaldi’s
The Four Seasons
. It sounded like it. The sophisticated atmosphere supported it.

The waitress returned—she seemed more attentive than normal, and Reign suspected it had a lot more to do with Nick than just good customer service. Young, brunette, and pretty, she took their order. Without asking, Nick ordered Reign a filet mignon with red wine sauce, medium rare, with a Caesar salad, and for himself a seared duck breast with risotto and roasted asparagus.