Broken Promises (13 page)

He left a trail of kisses down her neck to
the valley between her breasts. He snaked his hands under her
T-shirt and tweaked her nipples through a lacy bra. They tightened
into firm buds, and the sound of her low moan spiked his lust into
the stratosphere.

He had to have her. Now.

He reached behind her and opened the rear
door. She scrambled inside and whipped her T-shirt over her head,
revealing a bright red bra. He reached behind and flicked open the
fastener. Her breasts spilled out, lush, high, and firm. Hungry to
taste her, he dived and caught one of her dark nipples in his mouth
and sucked it into a tight bead. He slid his hand into her
sweatpants and found more lace. Damp lace.

His cock so hard he could barely catch his
breath, he groaned. She parted her thighs while he fumbled with his
zipper.

Fuck
. He pulled back.

Dammit all. How could he be so
unprepared?

“No condom,” he gasped. “What was I
thinking?”

Bette levered to one elbow, shook her head,
and shot him a half grin. “For once you weren’t, which isn’t—or
wasn’t—necessarily such a bad thing.”

He sucked in a deep breath, then counted
backward from a hundred. A little self-control could go a long way
about now. Federal agents didn’t go around screwing in what was
basically a public place. Time was running short for his sister and
for his job, and all he could think about was getting in Jersey’s
pants. And fucking her brains out.

Chapter Fourteen

“To be continued,” Bette said, refastening
her bra a touch reluctantly. Not only had they come close to doing
the deed in the backseat of the car but in broad daylight. What had
her papa said? Close only counted in horseshoes and Uzis.

She licked her lips and tasted his morning
coffee. They were already swollen from kissing him. “What now?”

Alex zipped his jeans and gave a bark of a
laugh. “Hell if I know.”

“I suggest we adjourn to The Villager for a
late breakfast. After that, I need to check on Shadow. I hated
leaving her alone this morning.”

He stepped back, and she climbed out of the
backseat and into the front. “Old Duke would’ve had her for his
breakfast.” He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine,
backed the car around and aimed for County Road 64.

“Not a well-trained dog like that. No way.”
She shook her head and then giggled. “You still have this thing
about dogs. Need to get over it, dude. I can’t believe the FBI let
you graduate from wherever you guys graduate from.”

“Quantico. And it was a close call.” His
hands shifted nervously on the steering wheel. “How about after
breakfast, I go down to the station and see how the investigation
is going while you make nice with your dog?” He shot her a sideways
glance. “If you think you can, stay close to home. You could still
be in danger.”

“Really think so?” She wrinkled her nose and
shrugged her disbelief. “I admit I was a little on the jumpy side
at first, but I don’t think I’m a target. I didn’t see enough of
him to give a decent description.”

“He doesn’t know that. Just the same…”

“Whatever.” Honestly, just because Double-O
was a Fed, he saw boogeymen behind every door. In her life, she’d
experienced too much. The real boogeymen were the ones you trusted.
Like the one who’d had her parents killed. The same one who’d gone
to their double funeral and offered his condolences and still
hadn’t served a day in prison. No doubt her brother would make sure
the dirty rat paid…and when he least expected it.

“What’s wrong?” Alex’s sharp tone brought her
back to reality.

“Nothing.” Okay, a little more control over
her thoughts or she’d be blabbing the entire story before she knew
it.
Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you my
brother’s a
mob boss in Jersey.

Now, wouldn’t that be a fine way to end a
relationship before it started?

~~*~~

The Villager on Main was a local hangout for
breakfast. The service was quick and the food hot, and if it was a
trifle high in cholesterol, no one seemed to mind. Certainly not
Bette. She polished off two eggs and three strips of bacon along
with four slices of whole wheat toast slathered in real butter and
topped with homemade Concord grape jelly.

Alex pointed his fork at her clean plate.
“Why didn’t you say you were starving?”

She glanced down at her plate. “I guess
eating was easier than talking about the elephant in the room.”

“I’m on a deadline, Jersey. My Bureau chief
expects me back in the office tomorrow, or I’m sidelined from my
current case.”

“How can you choose your job over your
sister? I don’t get it.”

“I’m not choosing my job over her and Cody. I
won’t go back until they’re found. I owe them that much. I still
can’t believe all this has happened. It’s too much.”

“Brings it all back, doesn’t it—what happened
to your brother?” She avoided his gaze—no, avoided seeing the pain
that had to be there.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “It’s bad enough
when you lose one family member. You don’t ever consider it could
happen again, and yet it has.” He drained his coffee cup and
signaled the passing waitress for a refill. “The CPD needs help,
and, hell, I need it too. I’m too close. I’m missing something.
Just don’t know what.” He swallowed his last bite of waffle.
“That’s it. I’ll run you by the house and see you later.”

“Okay.”
See you later?
Great. Just
great. It was back to business as usual with him. As if what almost
happened hadn’t happened at all.

~~*~~

With a frigging visitor’s badge clipped to
his shirt, Alex strode down the back hall to the detectives’
bullpen. Spitz looked up and gave what was at best an approximation
of a smile when Alex approached. “Been meaning to call you,” he
said.

His heart clutched and seemed as if it did a
complete flip. Had Jackie or her son been found? He swallowed the
nausea that threatened. Puking in front of the local LEOs wasn’t
something he intended to do. He barely kept the tremor from his
voice. “You have news?”

“Not on your sister or her son, but we
have
discovered something very interesting about your
girlfriend, Agent.” Spitz preened and groomed his mustache with his
forefinger. “Something you ought to know.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Not officially. He
tamped down his irritation. “So tell me anyway.”

“We got around to running her prints. Seems
she’s from New Jersey.”

“That’s not news.” But her prints being on
file was. He motioned for Spitz to continue. “What else?”

“Seems like her name’s not Smithson
either.”

“Oh?” Now
that
was news.

“Name’s Spinelli. Bettina Maria Spinelli. The
little lady is a full-fledged Mafia princess. Her father was head
of the Spinelli family out of Jersey until he and her mother were
murdered in a—”

“In a fire. I know.” Seemed as if Bette had
another secret or two up her short-sleeved T-shirt.

“Her big brother Gino’s head of the Spinelli
family now. And he’s aiming at being a bigger thug than the old
man.” The detective chuckled. “She’s not exactly squeaky clean
herself. Just thought you ought to know who you’re dealing
with.”

“Thanks, Detective.” Alex ground his teeth
and pasted a smile on his face for Spitz’s benefit. Okay, so she
hadn’t told him everything about her past. He hadn’t either at
first. But as much time as they’d spent together, she sure as hell
could’ve found time to mention she was
connected
. Come to
think of it, she’d dropped a hint about how her brother and his
friends would take care of her Nashville stalker if he followed her
to New Jersey. But that was back on New Year’s Eve, and other than
the recent revelation that her parents had been murdered by a
business rival, she hadn’t elaborated further.

No wonder she’d changed her name. And “not
exactly squeaky clean”? What the heck did the detective mean by
that? Only one way to find out. Actually, two. Wait until she came
clean on her own or pull up her record. More than likely it was
some minor kid stuff.

Better be minor.

Or he could ask Spitz, because the man was
fairly dancing in his chair to tell him. “You have her sheet?”

Spitz adjusted his reading glasses and read
from his notes. “Age eighteen. Our girl shoplifted a pricey purse
from one of the big stores in New
Yawk
.
Expensive enough to make it a felony, but her father’s mouthpiece
got her off with a suspended sentence and community service.”

“Anything since then?” Held his breath. Tried
to keep from crossing his fingers. Succeeded. Barely.

“Nope, clean as a nun’s habit.”

He rubbed his chin. “So you have nothing on
her.”

“Just this thing called my gut.” The
detective rubbed his belly. “She’s in on this. Maybe she’s after
your sister’s husband. After all, with her connections, all she
would have to do is call her big brother—and badda-bing,
badda-boom—they disappear.”

“You’re full of crap. If you knew her, you’d
know she’d never pull anything like this. She left New Jersey to
get away from the life.” At least he hoped that much was true.

“I think you’ve got a whiff and it’s affected
your brain, Agent MacGregor.”

Alex clenched his fists and breathed through
the urge to paste the detective with both. “Like I said,
you
don’t know her.”

“You wouldn’t be the first agent to lose his
head over a piece of ass. Keep it up and you’ll lose your fine job
with the Feds.”

Alex took a deep breath and relaxed his
fists. That way he wouldn’t punch the smirking jerk-wad who was
tipped back in his chair and looking too pleased with himself. “You
need to watch your mouth. No matter who her family is, Bette
doesn’t deserve your disrespect.” He spun on his heel, then stopped
at the door and turned back for a parting shot. “Job loss can work
both ways. Incompetence isn’t a prized quality in law
enforcement.”

He strode from the bullpen and stormed
outside into the sunshine before taking another deep breath. Never
had he seen a detective with so little to be arrogant about.

~~*~~

Bette glanced around her small basement
apartment and let out a sigh of relief. So good to be home. No
motel room for her. She’d seen enough of those since leaving New
Jersey. But if they didn’t find Jackie, how long would Brad let her
keep renting? More to the point, what would happen to Jackie’s
veterinary practice? Bette wouldn’t have a job for long.

Uncertainty meant stress. And stress wasn’t
healthy.

Okay. Take Shadow for a walk
. Poor
creature must be stressed as well. New home. New surroundings.
First the apartment, then the motel, then back to the apartment.
She wrote a quick note for Alex and taped it to her front door.
“Come here, girl.” She picked up the leash and rattled it. “Let’s
get moving.”

The Sheltie scampered over, sat politely, and
raised her pointy nose so Bette could attach the leash to her
collar.

Once outside in the sunshine and fresh air,
Bette stretched for a minute and then led her dog down the driveway
and onto the shady sidewalk. “Let’s walk up toward Main and then
back.” Main Street was only about six blocks, but it would work out
her kinks—both the physical and mental ones.

She and the Sheltie took off at a nice brisk
pace. Shadow did well on leash for about a block but then grew
skittish as a late-model burgundy Cadillac CTS pulled to the curb
just ahead of them. “It’s all right.” She gave a tiny jerk to the
leash, intending to keep going.

The car window rolled down, and a man’s gruff
voice asked, “I’m trying to find the Wine and Culinary Center.
Could you possibly direct me?”

She relaxed. Someone needed directions. No
big deal. “Just keep straight. Hang a left on Main, and it’s on
South Main. You can’t miss it.”

“Perhaps you could show me?” The passenger
door opened. The driver leaned forward, but his billed cap obscured
most of his face. All she could make out was a beard.

~~*~~

Alex found a note on the door to Bette’s
apartment. “007, I’ve taken Shadow for a walk. Back in thirty.”
Where the hell was she, anyway? What was taking her so long?

Back in thirty
. He glanced at his
watch. Why the hell hadn’t she thought to put a time on the note?
Thirty minutes from when? Must’ve taken an awful long walk with
that damned dog. How long did it take for a dog to find a good spot
to pee and take care of business?

“Dammit!” Ready for a fight, he rushed
upstairs. After all this time, she was still keeping secrets. What
else hadn’t she told him?

~~*~~

The hair on Bette’s neck rose like tiny
daggers of prickly sensation. “Would I show you?” She backed away
from the car. “Sorry, my dog and I are out for a walk.” She sped up
to stay ahead of the car, maintaining a pace both steady and
determined. Up ahead, she recognized one of Jackie’s neighbors
carrying two shopping bags. She waved and ran ahead, with the
Sheltie following on the lead. “Hi, Miss Waller. Let me help you
with one of those.”

The woman smiled, nodded, and handed off one
of the bags. “So nice of you, Bette. When will I ever learn? I
always buy too much when I go downtown, and then I have to carry it
back.”

“I know exactly what you mean. I’m guilty of
the same thing.” They walked along the sidewalk to the Waller
house, and Bette glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if the
man and his car were still there. Great. The Caddy had already
pulled away from the curb and was driving toward Main Street.

She swallowed the lump lodged in her throat.
The incident with the Caddy had set her every nerve on alert.
Something wasn’t right about its driver. On one hand, she wished
she could’ve gotten a better look at him, but every instinct said,
“Run!” Back in Jersey, she’d learned to listen to her gut
instincts. So she ran.