Sexy Ms. Takes

“Here,” Bella said.

He turned to see she’d apparently come to the same conclusion and had taken off one of her high heels. It wasn’t quite a stiletto, which was a pity. That could’ve done some damage to Sal’s thick skull. Yet it wasn’t her shoe that had snagged his attention. She crossed her leg to remove her other shoe, and the view was real nice. So was watching her walk to him in her bare feet.

“Thanks.” He took the offered heel. “I break it and I owe you a pair.”

“Damn right.” Their eyes met, then he saw her throat convulse. “As soon as the stores open tomorrow.”

“On New Year’s Day?”

Fear lurked in her eyes, but she lifted her chin. “The day after, then.”

“Day after tomorrow. Check.” He smiled and touched her cheek.

She didn’t flinch, only blinked and nodded. Poor kid. She was handling this better than he had any right to expect.

He turned back to the door. “Sal,” he yelled again, and then used the heel to give the door a couple of hard whacks.

Within a minute, he heard someone thundering down the stairs. “Jesus, Johnny.” It was Sal. “Can’t you just shut the fuck up?”

“We need water, Sal.”

“Use the damn tap.”

“Come on. Don’t make the lady drink that crap.” John heard more movement on the other side, then Vince’s deep murmuring.

“Hey, Vince, that you?” John glanced at Bella and winked. She was a bundle of nerves and probably wouldn’t eat, but he wanted her to have the option. He also needed her to calm down. “How about some food, maybe a bottle of vino, huh?”

Sal cursed loudly.

“Yeah, okay. We can do that,” Vince said after a pause. “Hold on.”

“Are you serious?” Bella said as soon as they heard the men leave and returned to the couch. “You can eat at a time like this?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. More importantly, if they’d planned to kill us soon, they sure wouldn’t worry about feeding us.”

Her perfectly arched brows rose. “Ah.” For the first time, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Good to know.”

“Not that I think they plan on killing us at all,” he said quickly. “You have to believe that. Oh, here.” He handed her back her shoe.

She sighed. “I was looking forward to getting a new pair.”

“Consider it done.”

“Be careful of making promises you can’t keep, Detective,” she said grimly, and bent to slip on both shoes.

His gaze followed the perfect curve of her calves and he wondered if she did some dancing as well as acting. He almost asked, but then thought better of reminding her that he’d totally screwed up her important audition.

Another few minutes and someone was back at the door. It was Vince, not Sal. Good. Except he was more careful than Sal might have been, making John and Bella wait in the bathroom while he hastily set down a box and a couple of bottles of Chianti just inside the room before again bolting the door.

John ran to the door. “Vince, wait.” Dammit, there was something familiar about the guy. Where the hell had he seen him before?

“Patience, il mio amico, no one has to get hurt. Capice?”

John glanced at Bella, her hands tightly clasped. “Just tell me where Nonna is.”

“Playin’ bingo.” The man paused. “She made cookies. They’re in the box. Now shut up, Johnny. Last warning,” he said, his voice trailing as he’d begun to climb the stairs.

It wasn’t the accent that was familiar. It was. Shit, he couldn’t remember.

“Admirable that you’re worried about Nonna,” Bella said, coming closer. “But jeez, we’re not exactly sitting pretty here.”

“Yeah, I’m worried about her, but if she knows we’re down here that tells me something, too.”

“She won’t let them kill us?” Bella said hopefully.

John smiled. “Something along those lines.” He peeked in the box. There were amaretti cookies, a loaf of bread, some cheese, two glasses, a knife. Plastic. Interesting that Vince had brought two bottles of wine, though. Probably figured if they got him drunk, he wouldn’t be so apt to kill them both. “Her cookies, that’s another matter. I wouldn’t touch them. Those suckers could take you down in minutes.”

Bella’s lips parted in surprise, and then she smiled. That made a knot deep in his chest unwind. “Are you sure you don’t just want them all to yourself?”

“Sadly, no. They really are terrible. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a great cook, even at her age, but a lousy baker.”

He filled a glass with wine, handed it to her and then took the other glass and bottle with him to the couch, hoping she’d follow. A few glasses of the Chianti might just keep her smiling. He hoped so. Not only would it mean she was relaxing, but it was nice. Her face changed with it. She must be good on the stage. A chameleon.

He waited until she sat down, got comfortable and took a sip, or rather a gulp. “You need to know, Sal’s got his problems, but he’s not a killer.”

“He shot you.”

John paused before he poured a small amount into his glass. “He didn’t intend to kill me.”

Bella shook her head, and he knew she didn’t believe him. Why should she? But he’d be damned if he’d tell her the entire humiliating truth. In fact, before she could question him further, he went for the distraction. “Lacarie. That’s what, northern Italian?”

“Yep.”

“That’s it? No story, no family history?”

“My family isn’t like that. My folks are third generation, and they assimilated long ago.”

“They named you Bella. You could have been called something boring like Jessica or Tiffany.”

Her stare turned icy. “My first name is Jessica. I use my middle name because of my job.”

John cleared his throat. “Jessica’s nice. Bella’s better.”

She took the bottle from his hand and refilled her glass.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like not to be steeped in the culture,” he said. “Around here, it’s everything, and has been since the early 1900s.”

“My father is an attorney, Mother volunteers and my sister, Andrea, is a stay-at-home mom. They belong to the country club and they donate to conservative causes. They’re as Italian as their new Mercedes.”