Ace Is Wild (24 page)

“Take that back booth,” he said, bending close so his breath brushed over her ear and the nape of her neck. She shivered and bypassed the sign that said, SEAT YOURSELF, walking obediently to the booth he’d indicated and sliding into the side against the wall.

Daniel hesitated, then sat beside her.

Vivi scooted as far into the corner as she could, trying to ignore the way their thighs brushed, and their arms brushed and the large, solid feel of him beside her, smelling faintly of dry rot. Even that made her hot because she remembered how he’d come to smell like dry rot, which made her laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he wanted to know.

“Mrs. Hickman chasing you with a frying pan,” she said.

He laughed, met her eyes, and laughed with her, and she fell just a little more for him. Worse, she could imagine having an actual relationship with Daniel now that he’d begun to loosen up some, one that could even last a lifetime if he ever came to trust her. Except she hoped he never trusted her completely. She was keeping a pretty big secret, and when he found out it wasn’t going to be pretty, and if she didn’t tell him now . . . “Daniel,” she said, taking advantage of the friendly moment, going with instinct. “I need to tell you—”

“About them?”

Vivi looked where he was looking and saw two cops come into the restaurant. Two more came in about a minute behind, and they weren’t the last. Before she knew it, the place was half full of uniforms, and the discomfort she’d felt when they walked in made perfect sense.

“Why are you shaking?” Daniel asked.

“Why don’t you care that the place is full of cops?”

“They’re all looking at you.”

Which didn’t make her feel any better. “What if they have our descriptions?”

“If they had your description you’d be under arrest by now,” Daniel said, not liking the way several pairs of cops’ eyes were plastered on Vivi with enough heat to set her on fire. Odd though that he was the one who was burning, not liking the way they stared at her, even though it kept their eyes off him, which was good as his was the more recognizable face—to cops at least. “The trick is not to draw attention to yourself.” He took two of the plastic-coated menus from behind the condiments on their table, opened one, and handed it to her so it hid her face.

“Why don’t we just leave?” she whispered from behind her menu.

“It would definitely get their attention if we walked out because half the Boston P.D. is in here,” he said. And now that they couldn’t see Vivi’s face—or body—anymore, they weren’t drawing as much attention. Daniel received an assessing stare or two, but he thought he saw envy rather than curiosity on those faces.

The waitress showed up, early fifties, frowsy blonde hair and a pink uniform with a white apron. Her name tag read JUNE, her eyes were on Daniel, and she wasn’t blinking.

Vivi cleared her throat, she and June exchanged glances, and June said, “What’ll it be?”

“Is there anything that’s not fried?” Vivi wanted to know.

“Sure.” The waitress leaned over Daniel, took her sweet time reading a menu she probably had memorized, then pointed to something Vivi couldn’t see. “This . . . no. Maybe—no. I guess everything is fried.” And she straightened reluctantly, fixed Daniel with her adoring stare, pencil poised over her order pad.

“Bring us two cheeseburgers,” Daniel said.

“Fries?”

“With hers. Onion rings with mine. Iced tea for both of us.”

“Well.” Vivi tucked her menu away. “Don’t I feel all helpless and feminine. The rest of the customers rub off on you or something? Men on a power trip,” she explained in answer to the puzzled look he sent her.

“They’re not all on power trips.”

“They are when you have a record,” she muttered crankily.

“You only have one arrest on your record.”

“Right, and it’s a nonviolent crime, but that doesn’t stop some of your coworkers from checking me for weapons any time they want.”

Daniel knew exactly what she was saying. There were men on the force who thought a badge put them above the law they were sworn to uphold—a license to be complete assholes whenever the mood struck them. And the mood would strike any straight male who laid eyes on Vivi.

He felt a surge of hard, brittle anger, but there was a facet of territoriality that he didn’t fight because it surprised him and he wanted to examine it. He didn’t like what he found, and when Vivi reached over and put her hand on his, he felt another surge of emotion he really didn’t like. Because it wasn’t hard.

“Daniel.”

He looked up and realized the waitress was there with their drinks and food. She dropped everything off, then went back to her position by the serving window between the kitchen and the counter, staring at Daniel with a little smile on her face.

He didn’t really mind, until the cop sitting at the counter started to send him dirty looks. He hunched his shoulders and dropped his head over his meal, and when he risked another glance the waitress was taking food out of the window and heading off to serve it. The cop was still there, still looking at him, only this time his eyes were narrowed and he looked . . .

“Oh, my God,” Vivi moaned, “this is amazing.” She took another bite, eyes closed, looking like she’d just had really good sex.

“It’s the grease,” Daniel said, picking up his burger and concentrating on eating with every fiber of his being. The waitress came over to refill their glasses. He looked up, and jumping Vivi wasn’t the only thing he had to worry about. It wasn’t even top of the list. The dawning recognition in the cop’s eyes was much more worrisome.

Daniel took a twenty out of his wallet, dropped it on the table, and got to his feet.

“What?” Vivi said, her mouth still full of cheeseburger.

“Time to go.”

“I thought leaving would draw too much attention.”

The officer glanced at Vivi’s face when she spoke, did a double take, then turned his back and started talking furiously into the little radio at his shoulder.

“Too late,” Daniel said.

Vivi folded the paper lining of the little plastic basket her burger had been served in, making it to go. She hesitated, then did the same with Daniel’s, heading for the door behind him.

The cop stepped in front of Daniel. “Don’t I know you?” he said.

“Nope,” Daniel said, “never seen you before.”

The cop turned to Vivi. “And you?”

“You’re asking me that in front of your girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” the waitress said from the other side of the counter. Her hands were on her hips and her expression was set to pissed off.

“Now, June,” the cop said. His tone was condescending, even before he added, “this is official police business.”

Daniel reached for Vivi, got a handful of onion rings, and wrapped his fingers around her wrist instead. He pulled her out the door, making it around the corner to the parking lot just as another police cruiser pulled up. Out popped Officer Cranston, who hurried inside.

“At a precinct on the other side of town, huh?”

“Just get in,” Daniel said, starting the car and putting it in gear almost before she got the door shut. They pulled out of the lot, but not before they heard the unmistakable sound of a police siren winding up behind them.

Chapter 16

DANIEL MADE A COUPLE OF QUICK TURNS AND
pulled the car over to the curb, just as Vivi was about to make the same suggestion—strongly.

“I don’t need you to tell me to ditch the car,” he said.

And she didn’t need him to tell her he was still skeptical about her abilities—although he seemed to be developing a sixth sense of his own.

He exited the car and went around to the trunk while Vivi wrestled with a lapful of food and argued with her still-growling stomach. As if she had a choice. She dumped the burgers while Daniel was busy removing his personal effects from the trunk. He took off on foot, not bothering to see if she was behind him. And why should he? she asked herself, trotting a little to keep up with him. She’d shoehorned herself into his life and resisted all efforts on his part to push her back out. And now he’d quit trying.

Somehow, acknowledging her part in this whole fiasco didn’t mitigate the fact that he’d gone from trying to get rid of her to taking her for granted. And sure, maybe that represented the normal arc of most male-female relationships, but wasn’t there supposed to some good stuff in between? Of course, the in-between stuff usually consisted of conversation, sex, and some level of commitment. And sure they had all those things. But their conversations consisted entirely of who was trying to kill them, their only commitment was to stay alive long enough to walk away from each other, and they’d done everything but let the hit men catch them to avoid having sex. But they thought about it a lot.

At least she did, Vivi allowed, especially now, when she was walking behind him. The man was muscle from head to toe, and most of it was flexing, especially his butt. He had a really nice butt. And she had a really big problem.

She stuck her hands in her pockets and made a concerted effort not to think about Daniel’s butt and how much she wanted to grab it. Not actually that difficult when she remembered Officer Cranston and his eagerness to get his handcuffs on her. And not in a good way.

Their surroundings were improving gradually as Daniel cut between buildings and kept to back alleys and yards. The day was bright and sunny and they were dressed for it, Vivi in shorts and a loose tank, Daniel in jeans and a T-shirt. Vivi felt like she looked right at home. Daniel stood out like a sore thumb, and it wasn’t just the fact that he was toting a duffel bag. Daniel carried himself with authority, and that just naturally attracted attention.

“You need to look like you fit in around here,” she said, hurrying to catch up with him.

Daniel looked down at his jeans and T-shirt.

“It’s not your wardrobe. And it’s not your luggage.”

“The rest of it is nonnegotiable.”

Vivi rolled her eyes. Even his vocabulary marked him as a lawyer. “Try to slouch,” she suggested. “Mess up your hair and stop making eye contact with everyone we pass. Jeez, did you forget everything from when you were a field agent?”

“I always had a cover story. People tend to believe what they’re told.”

“When they don’t have a story they have to draw their own conclusions from what they see. And what they see when they look at you is a lawyer.”

Daniel shrugged.

“If Cranston stops to ask questions, it won’t take him any time at all to run across someone who remembers seeing you.” Not that it was going to be a problem for long because they couldn’t stay off the main streets forever, and if Cranston had brought in reinforcements they were bound to stumble across a cop.

“I know where we are,” Vivi told Daniel. She’d glimpsed a street sign and if she was right . . . She turned in a circle, and sure enough, there it was. “Come on.”

This time she took off without waiting for him to concur about their destination. And she didn’t look back.

“The former friend you mentioned? And why former?”

“It’s a long story.” Vivi stopped at the edge of the sidewalk between two buildings, checking the street for signs of a police cruiser or foot cop. When she didn’t see one, she slipped out of hiding and jaywalked to the other side.

Daniel pulled her to a stop before she could open the door of a two-story redbrick house with cheerful striped awnings over the wide front windows. The windows were filled with dried flower bouquets, candles, and the other completely unnecessary doodads women felt a need to buy and scatter around their homes. It didn’t seem to be a business in the usual sense that there was a name over the doorway and an open sign inviting pedestrians in off the street. The little sign on the front door that read BY APPOINTMENT ONLY confirmed his suspicions. Vivi’s friend ran a business out of her home, but it wasn’t a store.

“Give me a little background before we go inside,” he said to Vivi.

She heaved a sigh, running out of patience.

“I used to be a field agent, remember? The first rule is never walk in blind.” Which was an explanation that got him what he wanted without admitting that he knew he’d hurt her feelings and was guilty over it.

“Heather Wilcox, late twenties, blonde hair—last time I saw her. No known connection to the Mafia or any other illegal organization.”