One Night More (6 page)

"You forget everything you know about our activities and we forget you exist. Violate this agreement and there will be consequences. Serious consequences." He cocked his head to the side and smiled again. "Now I'm going to leave. You will sit here for ten minutes and then go wherever you were headed before. No one will know about this conversation. Understand?"

I nodded, throat too dry to speak."

"Wonderful. Goodbye Ms. Chase."

By the time I was composed enough to drive, the time the strange man had given me was long past. Terrified to use my phone, I drove to the giant mall nearby and parked in the middle of a mass of cars.

I stumbled inside, feeling conspicuous in the bright cheeriness of things. I made my way downstairs and sat on a bench by the food court. People streamed by, lugging bags and dragging cranky children behind them. It was all so normal.

Trying to breathe so I could talk, I called Sam's cell phone.

"Carly, what's up? We're almost done here."

"Sam, I need you to come meet me right now."

"What? I'm on my way home. Won't be more than an hour or so."

"No. Please, listen to me. I'm at the Cheshire Mall by the food court. You have to come get me."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. But please hurry."

"On my way." He didn't say goodbye and before he hung up I heard him cursing.

I made a point of not checking the time to see how long it took him to arrive, but I estimated somewhere between five and ten years.

He strode over and I stood to greet him, but never got a chance.

"You're okay."

"Yes."

"Great. Then what the fuck is your problem?" he hissed.

"What?"

"Do you want to die? How hard is it for you to follow directions?"

"Sam, I-"

"Don't talk. I'm so furious with you. Tell me, why are you here? Felt like doing a little shopping? Have a craving for an overpriced smoothie?"

My face went red with fury. "Who the hell do you think you are to talk to me like this?"

"I'm the fucking dumbass who's trying to help you. But every five minutes you're messing it all up for no good reason."

"That's bullshit," I said and then lowered my voice. We were already getting some looks from the shopper around us; I didn't want this to turn into a shouting match, even if he did deserve it. "I'm the one who found the warehouse and I'm the one in real trouble here. I'm not one of your subordinates, Detective. You can't order me around."

"I can and I will until you get your head back on straight and start being sensible."

"You don't know anything about the state of my head, Sam. And you barely know me."

He sneered. "I know enough. I know you're trying to get yourself hurt."

"I am not. I'm trying to get out of this mess I got us both into."

"And I'm telling you, for the hundredth time to let me handle it."

"I can't!"

"Why? Because you just love this shit?"

"No. Of course not." My fingers curled into fists at my side.

"Then why? Because your ex screwed you up so much you can't trust a man anymore? Running into one abusive asshole doesn't mean the rest of us are the same."

The retort I'd been planning to toss at him froze in my throat at the implication of his words. "What? How do you know anything about my ex?"

"I'm a cop, Carly. When all of this started I looked into you."

"You…" I blinked away tears of rage and betrayal. "You had no right."

"Yes I did. I am trying my hardest to help you."

"Then stop. If this is what it means to be helped by you, I don't want it. Since you started 'helping' I've been kidnapped, interrogated and threatened. Not doing such a great job,
Detective
. I'm better off on my own."

"Don't be stupid." He reached out a hand to touch my arm and I slapped it away.

"Fuck you, Sam." I glared at him for a second and then turned on my heel and walked away, shaking.

Digging into my past without my consent wasn't the worst thing a man had ever done to me by far. But I had learned from that experience and no matter how much I liked him, I wouldn't be with someone who would violate my trust. Never again.

I could hear Sam's footsteps behind me, but he didn't say anything else. When I got outside I climbed in the car and left without looking at him at all.

Choking back sobs, my encounter with the threatening strangers was almost forgotten. All of the fear of the past few days descended on me and I couldn't do anything but drive, concentrating on the road, pushing everything else out of my mind as much as I could. It was a defense mechanism, I knew. And unhealthy in the long-run, but I needed it all to go away, if just for a little while.

Without thinking about it consciously I'd driven to the south side of the city. When I noticed, I smiled. I couldn't go back to my apartment, but I could go somewhere else that felt like home. I found a space a few blocks away and practically ran down to the pizza place.

When I opened the door the familiar sweet and sharp smells covered me in a blanket of nostalgia. The place was busy with late lunch customers and I had to shove my way through the crowd to get to the counter.

I hadn't so much as opened my mouth before Angelo, owner of the pizza place and my old boss, bellowed across the shop. "Carly Chase, light of my life!"

I grinned broadly and genuinely. It was good to be home. "Don't let your wife hear you talking like that."

He let out a hoot of laughter and swept across the shop to come and hug me. He was an adorably round man, short and well-padded in his mid-section. For the first year I worked there I thought he was a real old-fashioned south side Italian, but one night after a few too many glasses of wine with the customers, he admitted the truth.

"Angelo" was actually Andrew. He was born and raised in the suburbs of Atlanta and came north to find his fortune after his mother died. He'd used all his savings to buy the pizza place and kept the name. Over the years he stopped correcting people when they assumed he was Angelo. And then after his new bride gave him one of those silly fat chef figurines, he grew out his moustache, started eating a second dessert every night, and assumed the whole look.

He thought I'd be annoyed at his real history, but it charmed me. There was something appealing about remaking yourself, becoming something new, something better. Especially after having my shameful past thrown in my face, the idea was even more attractive.

So, back in the present, I hugged Angelo tight.

He stepped back and kissed me on both cheeks before frowning at me. "My darling, you're too skinny. Come sit down in the back. Let me feed you before you waste away to nothing."

It's silly, but that was the other thing about Angelo. Anyone under two-hundred-fifty pounds was emaciated to him. As a chubby high school student it had been worth a lot more than the free pizza and tiny wage that working there got me.

"No, no," I protested. "I'm just here to visit. You've got a lot of customers."

"Pardon my French, but fuck 'em. Come on." He dragged me through the now laughing crowd back to what he called the "chef's table," a rickety folding table and two chairs in the corner between the counter and the kitchen door. "Sit."

I did, of course. There was no point arguing with the man when he was trying to feed you.

Within minutes there was a pile of food in front of me enough for an army. And while the last thing I wanted to do was eat, the first bite of the house special pizza brought my appetite roaring back, and I dug in big time.

Angelo sat with me for a little while before he went back into the kitchen. A few of the cooks and others who I'd worked with came by to say hello as well. There were even a couple regular customers who waved.

With hands covered in sauce and lips burning from a taste of Anna's favorite calzone, I felt a million times better. I wondered why I ever left the place. Everything was simple and fun. No stress, no one threatening more than a small tip for late service.

Thoughts of my current situation soured my stomach and I put down my fork.

And then Sam walked into the restaurant. I saw him before he noticed me, and considered ducking into the kitchen. But if he'd found me here he'd find me back there too. It wasn't worth the hassle.

"Howdy, stranger," I said wryly.

"Carly." His face was dead serious."

I looked up at him as he approached. "At least sit down to yell at me again."

He sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. "I'm not here to yell."

"No?"

"No. I…I was going to leave you alone. We both needed time to cool off, but we can't right now."

"Why not?"

"There's been a development in the case. But that can wait a minute. Right now I just want to talk."

"Ah, okay." I picked at a Caesar salad but didn't take a bite. "How'd you find me anyway?"

"I called your friend Anna and asked where you might go to try and forget you ever met me. This was the second of five options she suggested after telling me where she thought I should really go."

I snorted. "I bet that was an interesting conversation."

"I'll say. She's got a mouth on her for such a little thing."

"Sam, you have no idea."

"So, are you meeting a team of football players for lunch, or is all of this for you?"

"I used to work here. The owner went a bit overboard."

"No kidding."

I passed him a spare fork – a peace offering of sorts. He took it without comment and speared a bite of manicotti. He shoved into his mouth and chewed, and a strange expression spread across his face.

"My god, that's really good. Great, really."

"I know. But don't tell Angelo when he comes out. He'll never let you leave."

Sam grinned at me, pumped his fist in the air and snapped his fingers in a gesture that seemed strangely familiar. "Why would I want to leave here?" He bent down a little and really started putting it away again.

There, distracted by the mountain of free food, I saw the real him again. The man I smiled just thinking about, and couldn't keep my hands off of. It was a wonderful moment, but I knew he had something serious to tell me, so I cherished it for as long as I could.

We sat and ate for a while, talking about nothing more meaningful than the secret to Angelo's sauce, which I refused to share on pain of death. When the man himself appeared he beamed at Sam and teased me about leaving him for a younger man. It was normal. And perfect. And all too brief.

When Sam had managed to put a sizable dent in the food, he leaned back in his seat and groaned. "I think I just ate ten pounds of food."

"Probably."

"I bet I could do anther ten pounds with a short break."

"Don't try. We can just come back here another time."

He raised an eyebrow. "
We
can?"

"Well." I blushed. "You can. Or whatever."

"Uh-huh. I'm holding you to that, Carly. If you-" His phone buzzed. "Shit, one second."

I tuned out his short conversation and looked around. The pizza place was clearing out a bit, but soon the dinner rush would start and it would be insane. I remembered so many afternoons enjoying the all-too-brief lull.

"I'm sorry to break up this party, but we have to go now."

"Where?"

He frowned. "Down to the station."

"Why? What's happened?"

"They just want to talk to you again."

"What's the urgency? I thought you guys were still dealing with the new warehouse."

"We are. They are. But…" He averted his eyes.

"Sam, just tell me. What happened?"

After a long pause he sighed and met my gaze again, with sadness and resignation all over his face. "Apparently another unit had been looking into that first warehouse. They've been surveilling it for a few weeks. And… they got a picture of you delivering that package. Their evidence just got processed and another member of the task force made the connection."

"Oh god," I said, feeling woozy. "I'm in deep shit, right?"

"Not necessarily. We'll explain everything. And you really helped the investigation today. It's got to count for something."

"And what about you? Are you in trouble?"

"Maybe. I don't know. All we can do now is go in and share everything we know. No more holding back. We can do this together."

I bit my lower lip and looked down at my lap.

"Carly, look. I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I know you're pissed at me and you should be. But I care about you. I want to protect you. Please believe that."

"I do."

"So we're okay?"

"I don't know, Sam. But I trust you know what's right in this situation. Let's get this over with and then we can talk about us." It wasn't the answer he wanted, but it was the best I could do.

"All right."

We left the rest of the food there over Angelo's loud complaints and headed out. I left Anna a message about where her car was and we started the drive through rush hour traffic.

As Sam drove into the tunnel that would take us downtown I spotted something strange. The road in the opposite direction was closed to traffic, but a vehicle was barreling towards us anyway. It was a dark SUV with chrome accents that shone brightly even in the dim tunnel light

"Sam, do you see that?"

He glanced over. "Idiots. Everyone's in such a hurry."

"You don't have to pull them over or something, do you?"

"Nah. If I was in a better mood I'd call it in to traffic, but I don't really care right now."

I smiled. "City's finest, eh?"

He chuckled and then cursed as the car in the other lane passed us, hung a sharp U-turn and slipped behind us in the line of slow-moving cars.

"What the hell?"

"See, in a hurry to wait with the rest of-" Before he could finish the sentence the SUV bumped the back of Sam's car.

"Oh my god," I said, turning in my seat to look at what was going on.

Sam pulled forward a little, adding space between us. "Now this bullshit I have to deal with. We'll pull over as soon as we get out of the tunnel."

I nodded and kept my eyes trained on the SUV. I could see there were two people inside but the low angle of Sam's car made it impossible to see their faces.