Hide & Seek

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?”

“I chartered a private dinner boat—we’ll have a four-hour cruise around the Bay. Dinner is provided, we just have to sit back and get to know each other a little better, I hope.”

“Ian must be paying you better than the rest of us.”

He just laughed, and didn’t elaborate. She was touched that Nathan was going all out to impress her—he was really pulling out the stops. Whatever he hoped could come of this probably wasn’t going to happen.

It was the probably that bothered her—making room for doubt—not so long ago it would have been definitely.

He knew how to get under her skin, though it wasn’t an entirely uncomfortable feeling. He stopped on the sidewalk halfway to the car, turning her to him, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders.

“Listen, we’re just going to have a nice time. No expectations, so relax. I just wanted to do something special for you.”

“You do things all the time, the flowers, now this…”

“I do it because I want to, not because I’m trying to pressure you. There is no pressure, okay?”

She felt the knot in her chest loosen a little, and she smiled up at him; his irises were dark in the dusky light of the evening. He stepped a little closer, and she swallowed, feeling her breath come a little faster. Her tongue darted out to moisten dried lips, and he groaned a little.

“I know it’s more traditional for the kiss to happen at the end of the date. Let’s just get that particular pressure out of the way now, you think?”

She found herself nodding, not entirely of her own volition, though she didn’t have much time to think about it. His mouth met hers. It was a gentle first kiss, an introduction, a question and a promise of what might come later. It startled her to realize, when he pulled back, that she wanted more.

Much more.

Damn.

He smiled and took her hand, though she could see the pulse at the base of his throat beating faster than before. Smiling in spite of herself, she followed him quietly to the car.

“SO YOU HAVEFOURSISTERS?”

Nathan lifted his glass of Chardonnay as if inspecting the color, looking over the top of the crystal at Jennie’s features, warmed by the candle lantern on the table between them and relaxed by a good dinner and several glasses of wine. How did she get even more lovely every time he looked at her? The little voice in the back of his head had been sending warnings every ten seconds that he was walking on thin ice pursuing this woman whom he was also investigating. He took another sip from his glass, washing them away.

She was very likely innocent—he’d never seen a single thing in the time he’d worked with the HotWires indicating Jennie was a mole. On top of that, Ian Chandler and E. J. Beaumont were no one’s fools. Unless they knew, the voice chided. Was he being naive? He wrenched his mind back to her question.

“I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.” He set his glass down, unable to take his eyes off her. “Yes, four. Mary, Kathryn, Shelly and Gwen, in that order. I’m the only boy, and the youngest.”

She laughed then, her face lighting up. “You poor guy. They must have had such fun with you. Did you find yourself being the victim of dress-up parties at a young age? You must have been like a little doll to them.”

He shook his head, grinning. “I learned early on how to defend myself from all that. Dad helped. Said he wouldn’t have his only son growing up girlie. Of course, he made sure his daughters could hold their own, so he wasn’t a complete sexist.”

“So you’re the baby. Your parents kept trying for a son?”

“No, they were just really Catholic. No birth control and the like. Mom actually had a few miscarriages in between each of us, which accounts for the intervals in our ages, but I was her last, at forty-two. When I get on her nerves, she tells me they played with the idea of naming me, ‘Enough.’”

As he laughed with her at the joke, he studied her carefully, as well. The family life he’d grown up in shouldn’t be completely unfamiliar to her—or to Maria Castone, anyway. She’d also been raised in a Catholic Boston family that adhered to traditional values, when it came to religion and reproductive traditions, in any case. It was a subtle form of fishing, a way to find out what was going on under the surface. She didn’t bite, however.

She didn’t even blink, showing no sign of connecting with what he was saying. She was very good at keeping it all hidden, then again, she’d had lots of practice. The warning voice started humming again, and he shut it off.

“You don’t often see large families like that anymore.”

“People can’t afford them, not that we could, either. It was a stretch a lot of the time, but there was plenty of love to make up for what we didn’t have.”

“That’s nice.”

“How about you? Sisters or brothers?”

He thought he saw something flicker briefly in her eyes but then it disappeared—whatever it was, it was sad.

“No, I was adopted. An only child of older parents. They’ve passed on now.”

“So you’re all alone?”

When she shrugged, he saw the tightening of her facial muscles, the way she averted her gaze. Whatever the truth was about why she was here, and what she was up to, she wasn’t thrilled with this topic of conversation. The pain of the secrets she carried inside, no matter what they were, created a flicker of hope that she wasn’t the criminal they were making her out to be.

If she had been separated from her family for all this time, completely cut off through the protection program, he couldn’t help aching for her.

He didn’t know if he could live the way Jennie had had to live. He wished he could say something, tell her he sympathized. He couldn’t. Not yet anyhow.

Her tone was neutral, though, when she replied. Practiced, like a speech she’d delivered many times before. “No, I’m only alone when I want to be. Family is not the only way to fill your life.”

“That’s true, I suppose.”

“You know, I never did ask, but what did you do before you came to the HotWires unit? I know you have psychology and criminology degrees, right? How’d you end up working in a tech unit? Why aren’t you out there doing all that profiler work we see on TV shows?”

He paused, unsure whether he should go along with her blatant change of the subject, taking the focus off of herself. But this was a date, not an interrogation. He frowned, hating how business was interfering with what should have purely been pleasure. He shoved thoughts about the investigation aside and went along with her.

“Well, you know I grew up in Boston, and that I’m Irish.” He added the last with a smile and an affected brogue he’d picked up from his grandfather, who had been determined to give up neither his native language nor his accent even though he’d lived in America twice as long as he’d lived in Ireland. Grandad used to joke that the accent got him laid twice as often as his American friends without one, and Nathan could confirm that he’d used it in college with similar results.

“I went to college there, no need to move out of the house and spend more money when you have some of the best schools in the country outside your back door. Not to mention the best ballpark in the world.”

Jennie arched an eyebrow, but she had a sparkle in her eye that charmed him. “You love Boston?”

Was the sparkle because she’d grown up in their beloved city, as well?

“With all my heart. Miss it, so I try to get back often enough. Have you ever been?” He asked the question with a slight sinking feeling—so much for leaving the investigation behind. And the question dulled the sparkle she’d had.

“No, can’t say that I have. It sounds like a lovely place, though.”

“You should visit sometime.”

“Maybe I will.”

Nathan blew out a breath at the sudden formality of their exchange, like two strangers on the street. Her defenses were firmly raised—she didn’t give anything away, unless you looked closely and saw how her eyes changed.

“Anyway, I only ended up with a dual major because I had no idea where I was going. My Dad and Grandad were lawyers, so I felt pressured to go in some kind of similar direction. My real love, though, was psychology, how people react and behave, and why. It ends up the two were pretty complementary, especially when Kevin Mitnick came on the scene, and the whole social-psychological side of hacking became popular. It was always around, as you know—he made it a real phenomenon. I bumped into it at just the right time to write my thesis on it, and the rest was history.”

“And you just ended up here?”

“Eventually. Took a few detours first.”

He was tired of talking about his life when he had this wonderful woman sitting just a few feet away. He wanted to know more about her, and not as an investigator. This night was fleeting, and he didn’t know if there would be another. As the boat turned, starting its slow trajectory back toward shore, the waiter reappeared, delivering espresso and mouthwatering slices of tiramisu. Jennie sat back in her chair as she eyed the dessert.

“I’m so stuffed. This was delicious. It’s amazing how the saltwater air will stimulate your appetite.”

He knew she was talking about the confection on the table in front of them, yet Nathan felt her words stir a different kind of hunger, tightening every muscle in his body with desire. His appetite was definitely stimulated. Down, boy, he commanded himself, striving for control.

Thankfully, Jennie didn’t seem to be aware.

“It’s such a beautiful night to be out on the water. Thanks for thinking of this.”

Abandoning her dessert, she stood, and walked to the rail, looking out over the water. Nathan took his plate and a spoon, joining her. Maybe if his hands and mouth were otherwise occupied, he’d be able to keep them to himself.

He rested against the rail, gazing out over the calm waters of the Bay, dark now as the moon set low in the sky. Looking down he grabbed a chunk of cake with the fork, and lifted it to Jennie’s lips. She drew back slightly, shaking her head, but he smiled and wordlessly urged her to indulge. He could barely keep his hand steady as she leaned in and formed her amazing mouth in an O around the end of the fork, slipping the cake into her mouth in such an unconsciously sensual move that he nearly dropped the utensil over the rail.