Hide and Seek

“Nothing at all. I guess I’d better get to work before Ian has my ass for getting a late start.”

She continued to look at him with that perceptive gaze—the woman could see too deeply; he’d have to be careful. As much as the assignment to investigate Jennie sucked, he didn’t want to blow it. With any luck, he had the opportunity to prove her innocence, and he hoped to hell that she was innocent.

He didn’t care about her past, who she was. But if she was a mole, if she was passing information back to her family, then they both had a serious problem. Because in spite of everything they’d told him, and everything he knew, it didn’t stop him from wanting her.

2

“SO DO YOU KNOW anything new about the puttana?” Bruno Castone stuffed his face with his favorite rigatoni and sausage, then chewed slowly, intently. He looked over expectantly at his nephew, Tony, who winced—just slightly—at Bruno’s use of the slur in reference to his sister. It didn’t escape Bruno’s notice.

“What? You have a problem with my language? She’s not your sister anymore, she gave that up when she ran to the feds, turned against us.”

“She might’ve been pinched. We don’t know she went willingly, Uncle.”

“There’s no other way to go. She could have come to me, come to us, but instead I ended up a guest of the state thanks to her. She took seven years of my life.” He cleared his palate with a glass of Chianti, and set his fork down on the table a little too hard, repeating his question. “So, do we know? Did you find her?”

“Not exactly, though we have a plan. They’ve got her hidden somewhere, deep. We’ve leaked some information to see if we can flush her out.”

Bruno’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of information? How come you didn’t clear this with me, first?”

Tony shook his head, his tone reassuring. “Misinformation, I should’ve said, Uncle. Don’t worry so much. I thought that if we ‘accidentally’ leaked that we were getting information from inside their program—from someone who was only pretending to be a witness—they might lead us to her. We have our inside guy whisper in a few ears, and he’ll see what they do with the information. If they think she’s been reporting back to us all this time, they’ll contact her and, bingo, we find her.”

Bruno was silent for a long moment, then smiled widely, satisfied by the news and the pasta. “You’re a smart guy, Tony. I always said that’s what we need nowadays, guys who have smarts, more than your father and I had. We had to live by wits and fists. You stay on this, and tell me the second anything changes. Paul G. is on my ass, and I don’t need one more problem.”

“Paul making any moves on us?”

“He’s always hemming me in, questioning my every decision, especially since I got out. It’s been six years, and he still keeps on me about every little thing.”

“Because he never okayed the…hit.”

Bruno frowned; his nephew never could talk about the hit on his father and his brother. For a while Bruno had considered taking Tony out, as well, as an added precaution. He was glad he hadn’t. Over the years the kid had proven to be an asset, apparently preferring to stay alive over revenge. Smart, like he said.

“Paul’s the big boss. I just don’t need any more heat from him if any of this goes south. It’s your neck on this one.”

“You got it.”

As Tony turned to leave, Bruno almost stopped him again. Something in his gut bugged him. Maybe it was that small sign of doubt that Tony still was sympathetic to his snitch sister’s plight. Or maybe he was imagining things. They were in a touchy business. For now, he’d trust Tony. He picked up his fork, stabbing the pasta ferociously, imagining what he planned to say to his niece before he killed her.

JENNIE HATED THIS. She wasn’t the type to fuss over what she was wearing, but she’d just spent an hour and a half trying on every pair of jeans she owned and nothing felt right. This date with Nathan was driving her nuts. She never should have agreed to it. Too late now. He would be here in twenty minutes, and she had no idea what they were doing, or what to wear. She went through her closet one more time.

It was late October, Halloween was only a few days away. The evenings were cool but the colors were still warm; the foliage was close to its peak, reds, yellows and oranges creating the colorful burst before the grays and whites of winter blanketed the city.

This was always one of her favorite times, even more so than Christmas or Fourth of July. She loved the sweetness of the cusp of the seasons, the bounty of the harvest, the crisp smell of the air. When she was a child, she’d play in huge piles of leaves that she and her brothers would rake next to a hill that sloped down the western side of their home, and when it was big enough, they’d run and jump from the top, landing in a cushion of musty-smelling leaves, delighted. That seemed like another lifetime. Had she really ever had those experiences, or had she just dreamed them?

Shaking off the memories, swallowing the knot in her throat, she grabbed a wool skirt the color of ripe apricots and tugged a white chenille, V-neck sweater over her head. There. She wasn’t going to change again, or even look in the mirror, for that matter. She was comfortable, and she’d go with that.

No sooner had she applied her lipstick than the bell rang. She was annoyed at how nervous she was. Her pulse picked up as she approached the door.

Well, maybe she had a right to a few nerves. She was a confident woman, but it wasn’t every day that some younger, handsome man was showing up at her door. A man who looked at her with such wicked intentions that she felt like a girl again. She took a deep breath. This was stupid. It was only Nathan, for God’s sake.

When she opened the door, her nerves plus a thousand screaming hormones went on alert causing her to go mute. Decked out in dark-gray wool pants and a blue silk shirt, polished from head to toe, Nathan was flat-out gorgeous.

“Maddon’.” She lifted her hands to her lips, unsure if she had whispered the familiar Italian epithet or thought it. But, no, she had spoken. Words tumbled from her lips, and they weren’t the ideal words she would have chosen, but the brain-mouth connection had obviously broken down completely.

“You’re all dressed up. You look amazing. I’m way underdressed. I thought we said we’d do something casual.”

“This is casual, and you look amazing, too.” He took a step forward, his gaze moving over her so intently she forgot to step back and suddenly they were closer than they’d ever been. She wondered if they’d make it out of the apartment.

“Let me just change this sweater.”

She started to turn, feeling like an idiot for needing to escape. Then suddenly she found her hand captured by Nathan’s. The next thing she knew, he’d tugged her back against him, so they stood fully flush against each other, her back to his front. She thought she’d stopped breathing, except that she was surrounded by his scent, and he smelled fabulous.

His cheek brushed her hair, and his mouth was by her ear. “You don’t need to change. You’re beautiful.” His lips graced her earlobe and she thought her knees were going to buckle. “You’re perfect, Jen.”

Although she could hardly think, the one thought that surfaced was that she wished it had been her real name that fell from Nathan’s sexy lips. Maria, not Jen.

She pulled away, simultaneously aching and panicked at the thought. She could never afford to think that way. Jen was her real name. There was no other. Why was her mind torturing her this way, tonight of all nights? She felt oversensitized as if every nerve ending were exposed. She didn’t understand why he had such a strong effect on her. It wasn’t as if she were some quivering virgin. It wasn’t as if he were the first man to touch her, or look at her that way. Yet he felt like the first one—suddenly she couldn’t remember any of the others—and that set off danger signals deep inside. She laughed nervously, pushing her hand through her hair.

“You move fast, I’ll give you that.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking abashed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. You do look perfect. I wanted you to know I meant it. You always look great. Tonight you’re glowing.”

He smiled and was transformed from charming to devastating. Was this really Nathan from the office, whom she’d resisted for so long?

He wanted her to believe that he thought she was beautiful? Hell, she felt like the cherry on top of a sundae when Nathan looked at her. Ripe, delicious and as if he was about to pop her into his mouth, whole.

Heat traveled up into her face at the image, and she tried to think of something to say.

“You may want a coat, though. We’ll be on the water, and the air could be chilly.”

“Okay. I’ll just be a minute, then.” She excused herself so that she could get a coat, though she was feeling so warm she wasn’t sure she’d really need it. For the first time in years, she said a short prayer as put on her coat, asking that she could get through this evening without making an idiot of herself any more than she probably already had.

She walked back into the hall, stopping short, startled to find Nathan wasn’t there. She heard movement in the other room, what sounded like a drawer opening and shutting, and headed in that direction—what was he up to?

She found him rearranging some flower vases by the window over her desk, and studied him for a moment before querying.

“What are you doing?” Her tone was sharper than she intended. She didn’t say anything else, waiting for his response. He turned, smiling in an embarrassed manner at being caught—caught at what, though?

“Sorry, Jen. I noticed you had these on the table in the hallway. They don’t get enough light there, so I just moved them near the window. The blossoms will last longer that way.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t quite sure what else to say, flustered by her first, defensive instinct at anyone touching her things, rummaging around her apartment. It was only Nathan. Still, she thought she’d heard a drawer opening. It must have been him moving the flowers.

She was so rattled, she couldn’t be sure what she was hearing. She’d lived a careful life, protecting her privacy for so long, that she didn’t know if she could ever trust anyone completely. That well-worn reasoning, however, didn’t stop her from feeling ridiculous.

“Are you ready? We have reservations for seven.”

She nodded, turning to the door first, though every gut instinct she had told her to wait until he walked out in front of her—why was she being so antsy? She tried to shake it off again, brightening her voice. She was going out with a handsome, younger man for a night on the town. She was just nervous about it, and that was all. She needed to relax.

“On the water? Where are we going?”