Sexy Ms. Takes

There was nothing in the trash, nothing in the shower but soap and shampoo. The towels might have helped to strangle someone, but they were awfully thick, besides, the only person she could get close to was the detective.

Finally, though, she had to leave the safety of the small room to face the reality out there. She opened the door and walked right smack into the detective. She yelped and he grabbed her by the shoulders. With her heart thudding like a bass drum, she looked into the man’s dark eyes, but he seemed as surprised as she was.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“What in hell are you doing?”

He licked his bottom lip, then glanced quickly to the toilet.

She felt herself blush and she looked away, her gaze landing on his chest. He let go of her shoulders and she realized just how tightly he’d held her. He was stronger than she’d imagined, which was a good thing. Now if he was half as capable.

He rushed inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him, making her blush deepen. If this were a play, he would clearly be her hero, but in real life, heroes were in short supply. She walked away from the door, rubbing her arm. It wasn’t sore, not really.

To her amazement, her stomach grumbled, and she looked at her watch. No wonder, it was after two. The auditions were still going on, and she had no doubt some other ingenue had caught the director’s eye. It had been too good to be true, anyway. As if to mock her, a wave of nausea hit hard and she pressed a hand to her belly.

Trying to take her mind off of the play, she wandered around the sparse room, wrinkling her nose at the layer of dust lining the baseboards. Thank goodness the bathroom had been clean because the rest of the place needed a good vacuuming and.

On the floor next to the couch was a dirty plate topped by a crumpled paper napkin. Her repugnance was cut short as she noticed a silver handle peeking out. A knife? Please, God. She hurried over and used the toe of her shoe to move the napkin. It was a fork. Better than nothing. She could keep it tucked in her waistband. She bent to pick it up.

“At least the towels are clean.”

Bella straightened and spun to face Detective Greco, and then quickly moved away from the fork. The sudden movement reminded her of the nasty bump she’d suffered in the cab. She didn’t think there was any real damage to her ribs, but it hurt.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Again.”

“I—” She forgot her snippy retort as it hit her how improbably handsome he was. Black hair, cut rather short on the sides, but longish on top. Thick black eyebrows that totally worked over dark brown eyes. His jaw, already peppered with a five o’clock shadow that didn’t hide his cleft chin, was square and strong. Her gaze moved down past a broad chest to narrow hips. His dark suit had been cut well, and his taste in ties wasn’t horrible, although wardrobe would have picked out something in red.

“Uh, ma’am?”

That brought her right back to snippy. “Just how old do you think I am?”

It was his turn to be startled. “I meant no offense.”

“I’m twenty-five. I’m not married. I’m not anything but trapped here with insane mobsters and…you.” Her voice cracked. “That guy, Sal…you seem to know him. Are we going to—” She cleared her throat. “I don’t want you sugar-coating anything.”

His lips curved in a sad smile. “Look, if I’d known you were in the back—”

“We had that discussion. I don’t accept your apology. Aside from losing my audition, I’m probably going to be killed in this stupid basement. With you. I don’t even know you.”

His jaw flexed. “What’s your name?”

“Bella.”

“Bella?”

She looked at him. “What’s wrong with Bella?”

“What’s your last name?”

She didn’t want to tell him. But she supposed he’d need it to notify her next of kin. “Lacarie. Why?”

“Listen to me, Bella Lacarie.” He took her hands in his then met her gaze, his dark eyes serious. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you, understand? I’m sorry about your audition, and for getting you involved in this mess. I’d change things if I could, but I can’t. What I can do is protect you here and now. You have my word, on my mother’s life, that you’re safe, and you’ll continue to be safe. Are we clear?”

Bella felt the knot in her stomach tighten, but not from fear. She stepped out of his grasp, paced to the other side of the room and thought about his promise. She wanted to believe him. She did believe that he meant what he said. Still, she’d grab the fork as soon as his back was turned.

3

JOHN STUDIED HER REACTION. He needed her to trust him. She was clever, he could already tell that, but he needed her to be quick, too. Terrified people often made bad choices at the worst times. Knowing Sal, he was terrified, too, and he made bonehead choices in the best of circumstances.

Bella folded her arms across her chest and continued staring at him. A little pink came to her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Finally, she nodded. Once.

Good. One problem solved. Bigger issues remained. Like how he was going to get them out of this.

“None of this makes sense,” she said. “Why would the Mafia want to make a deal with a detective? Why didn’t they just kill you when you went to get in your car? Or when we were in the garage?” She looked at the door. “Was that…?”

John followed her gaze, listened, but he didn’t hear anything.

When he turned back she was staring at him again, waiting for his answer. “Just because they’re Italian, it doesn’t mean they’re Mafia.”

“You’re right. The kidnapping and the guns mean they’re the Mafia.”

“Good point, but not accurate. Sal’s a wannabe. He watched The Sopranos when he should have been going to school.”

“Which reminds me. Who’s Nonna and how do you know she lives here?”

He shrugged. “She’s part of the neighborhood. Everybody knows everybody.”

“What about Vince?”

John hesitated. He owed her the truth. “He isn’t part of the neighborhood, and I don’t know what he’s doing here. My gut tells me he doesn’t want us dead, but I’m not certain.”

“Okay. Thanks for being honest.” With a calm he wasn’t buying, Bella headed toward the couch. “Even if they’re not officially in the Mafia, they still have to deal with me. If they buy you off, I’m a witness. I was kidnapped at gunpoint. I leave here, go right to the cops and report it.” She sat on the ugly couch, almost lost on the cushions.

He hadn’t realized how tiny she was, probably because she was tall. But she was slender, small-boned. “I told you, they’re not going to hurt you.”

She sighed, looking miserable. “And you were doing so great in the honesty department.”

“I’m not trying to placate you. As long as we’re here, we’ll be okay. If they’d taken us to some deserted warehouse, I’d be sweating it.” A half-truth was better than scaring her out of her mind. He was still sweating it, all right, only because he didn’t remember who the hell Vince was. This had something to do with Sal, and as much as John wanted to kick the kid’s ass right now, deep down he knew Sal wouldn’t hurt Nonna. And he wouldn’t be stupid enough to pull anything in her basement. As far as Vince was concerned, he didn’t strike John as part of one of the local crews. Smarter than Sal, but then, who wasn’t?

He glanced over at Bella again, who was nervously licking her lips. “They leave any water for us?” he asked, glancing around the room.

“I didn’t see any,” she said quickly, stiffening.

He frowned at her odd reaction. Of course she was tense, but there was something else. Maybe not. Maybe he was just jumpy, considering she was his responsibility and anything that happened to her would be on his head.

Even with her strained smile, she was really pretty. “Maybe you could ask them for some?”

“Sure.” Fair enough request, but no, something was off with her. He left the couch and at the door, yelled for Sal. He didn’t get a response, but the steel was so thick he wasn’t surprised. His fist alone wasn’t going to be enough. He needed something to hit it with, something that would carry.