Playing with Fire (18 page)

“What do we have?”

“Not quite sure. Catch the tail as it swings by?”

“Done.” Pat stared at Reign as Nick practically dragged her inside. Well, she was worth staring at, especially in a little red number that resembled a cocktail dress but was a bit skimpy on the skirt length. His friend said, “I think I can guess why. I’d follow her too.”

“Someone has tried to kill her twice.”

“Now that would be a damn shame. I am usually partial to blondes but a little variety never hurt anyone.”

Nick said smoothly, “I couldn’t agree more. Run the plate when the car comes by, okay? He was behind us, but he’ll circle back around the block, I promise you.”

“You’re the expert on that. Sure. But we should hurry.”

Reign, Nick had to admit, looked a little flabbergasted by the interior of Pat’s house. It really consisted of walls of televisions and monitors and audio equipment. If she had a clue as to the arsenal in the basement, even coming from her background, she might faint.

Well, no, maybe not. Reign would never faint. She didn’t even comment on the mess in the living room, which consisted of dirty plates, empty beer cans, and stacks of DVDs. Pat had some reclusive habits.

“Not a lot of Bentleys in this neighborhood, so he’ll spot yours.…” Pat studied a wall of screens and pointed. “Okay, this your guy? He’s driving a little slow past your vehicle now.”

Sure enough, that same black car
.…

“Fuck yes, that’s him.”

“I’ll photograph the plate.” Pat pushed a button. “Done. If someone far … I mean, sneezes on this street, I know about it.”

“How fast can you run it?”

“About a minute. I’m linked into the state database.”

“Do they know that?”

“You know better than to ask questions like that, Fattelli.” The screen flashed. “Here’s the registration. Rental. Must be pros. How good were they?”

“I noticed them.” Nick didn’t like it. At all.

“Yeah, but you’re good too, Fattelli. Give me a scale so I can place them.” Pat swiveled his chair and picked up a glass of iced tea. “Like how soon would the average person have noticed?”

“Maybe never,” he admitted, a little cold inside. Reign stood next to him and he slipped an arm around her waist. “That good. What the hell is up?”

“I’m going to guess from the make of the car and the skill of the driver, there’s some money behind it.” Pat hit a few more keys. “I might be able to get the names but I doubt they are real enough to mean anything.”

It wasn’t like anything Nick hadn’t already guessed. So his beautiful evening had just turned to shit.…

“Can you check my car?”

“For a signal? Sure.”

Reign leaned her head on Nick’s shoulder. It was hardly a characteristic gesture, and he tightened his hold protectively.

“Okay,” Pat said in triumph, grinning. “We do have a passenger. Your fancy British import has a device attached somewhere. I don’t touch foreign cars so you’ll have to find it yourself.”

And he’d thought it was Reign’s phone. Nick did a regroup. That was a serious mistake on his part.

“They tagged my car with a GPS? By the way, I’m not sure the Brits pass as imports.”

Pat looked pained. “Looks like it’s about the GPS, and we went our separate ways a couple of centuries ago. Can you ever remember I’m Irish? My mother was an O’Brien from Northern Ireland. It’s Saturday-night entertainment to us to blow up highbrow Brit cars like yours.”

Following Pat’s train of thought wasn’t particularly simple. Nick said, “Fine, I won’t make you touch a British car if you hold a grudge.”

“Oh yeah, a Sicilian wouldn’t know about that. Have you ever heard of a vendetta? I kind of think you people invented that.”

“Heard of it once or twice, now that you mention it. Thanks, by the way.”

“Rear bumper would be my guess, or the inside of one of the tire wells. If you’d like to just leave the lady here, I’ll take care of her—”

“Helpful. And no, she stays with me. I don’t want to lose her to all that Irish charm.”

“There is a true danger there.” Pat grinned and took Reign’s hand, kissed it, and said in an exaggerated brogue, “It’s been a pleasure, lassie.”

“Nice to meet you, Pat.”

“Watch it.” Nick turned in the doorway. “I’m going to toss it when I find it, so they might come looking for us here.”

Pat shrugged. “Biggest mistake they ever made if that is how it goes.”

Once they were back outside, Nick slipped out a small flashlight he always carried from his pocket and opened the passenger door for Reign. “Get in while I try to solve our little problem.”

He found it fairly easily on the left-hand tire well, the tiny light making it not that difficult if a person was at all suspicious, and God knew he was suspicious as hell now. He slid into the driver’s seat and took great pleasure in tossing the device out the window when they pulled away.

“Hopefully it will get stuck in the tire of a police cruiser and lead them to the nearest precinct.” Nick was still wary, driving slowly, since it was getting late and it was a quiet neighborhood. He didn’t think they’d risk anything where there could be witnesses. It was hard to tell, but if they were waiting to make a move, hopefully they’d think they were still inside the house, relying on the tracking device.

Once they turned randomly onto a different street, he breathed a little easier. “You know, before this little incident, I was kind of thinking this might be Ariano’s problem instead of yours.”

Reign turned to stare at him. “Sal? Why?”

He shrugged. “Think about it. You were involved with him before me. It makes sense that if a man was in your bedroom, Ariano would be the one there. Let’s also keep in mind that he was the one shot twice on his parents’ yacht.”

Nick took three more turns in rapid succession and then turned on his own GPS to get them back to the street they needed.

No comment on that theory. At least not at first. Finally, as they pulled out into traffic she said, “I suppose it is possible. His father has enemies, but I think everyone I know does anyway. I can’t think why anyone else would want to hurt someone like Sal.”

“He’s going to be a lawyer, for Christ’s sake, Reign. If someone is responsible for putting me away, I am going to hate his guts.”

“He isn’t a lawyer quite yet though, and it isn’t like he’s going to be a prosecutor or anything. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it, if he chose that path, but he won’t.” Her tone was dry. “But my point is, I don’t see it as a viable theory. Sal is at school every day with a predictable schedule. Look at your friend Pat. He could find out when Sal’s classes were, and where, with no trouble. Two seconds max.”

“I’m not sure I would classify Pat as a friend. Let’s leave it as interesting and useful acquaintance, can we?”

But maybe she was right. He consciously loosened his jaw.

He just didn’t want the target to be
her
. These people, whoever they were, seemed to be trying fairly hard to pull this off.

Over his dead body.

Reign reached over and lightly touched his knee and echoed that thought. “I’m just wondering, could it be
you
they are after?”

Chapter

S
EVENTEEN

The hotel was downtown in the middle of a chic neighborhood, the towering structure studded with lights, and the doorman was probably dressed more impeccably than most of the guests as he came to open the car door for Reign. “Checking in?”

She stepped out, assaulted by the city, a mixture of exhaust and the noise of the traffic, and of course, the almost overwhelming array of fashionable buildings.

The hotel in particular was an icon in the history of New York, and even America in general.

Nick nodded and discreetly handed him a bill. “If you’ll take care of the car please. No porter necessary. We have no luggage.”

“No problem, sir.” The man looked absolutely bland and accepted the keys to the Bentley.

As Nick took Reign’s arm, she murmured, “Uhm, that whole no-luggage thing is kind of a problem.” Then she added, “Nice choice. I’ve never stayed here. Have you?”

He escorted her into the brilliantly lit lobby without answering the question. It was the epitome of understated good taste, with scattered seating areas and plants with glossy perfect leaves. The paintings on the walls and the sculptures were undoubtedly museum quality.

If money had a smell, this was the scent in the air.

“If you’re worried about what you’ll wear to bed, the answer is nothing, so it all seems good to me on the luggage issue.” Nick glanced around and then urged her toward the very discreet desk to check in.

“Very funny.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious about that. But I need some time to think in a place where I’m not worried we’ll be found.”

“I get that. But I at least need a toothbrush.”

“I’m pretty sure you can get anything you want here just by asking.”

“What if they can trace your credit card?” Reign looked outwardly composed but he could tell she was at least a bit shaken.

He said ironically, “You think I don’t have that covered?”

“Oh.”

Pat wasn’t the only one interested in how she looked in her red dress, he noticed as he gave the front desk his information—not any of it attached to the name Fattelli. Luckily, they were able to get a suite on a high floor, and while the evening hadn’t exactly worked out as he’d thought it would, the ending would hopefully be just as enjoyable as the beginning had been.

He’d very much liked sitting across from Reign at the table at the restaurant, watching the light play off the planes of her face, shadowing her eyes, but it seemed like each time they went anywhere disaster lurked, and now she’d brought up a pretty valid point.

On the whole, he probably had more enemies than she did.

Blaming it on her famous family name didn’t work either.

He was starting to think she could be right. Maybe he was the target.

It might make sense. He was the first one shot at in her bedroom. At the time, he’d thought maybe it was because taking the male out of the equation first was advisable, but now he wondered. He’d also been standing next to her before Ariano took his place, and from the water, the visibility might have been a little dicey. Maybe they had thought the tall man with her was him.

Tonight, it was definitely
his
car that was tagged, which was why they were at a hotel instead of his apartment.

It was entirely possible that he’d been sucked in because someone wanted him there. The whole offer to kill Reign might have been just to position him into place so he could be removed from the picture.

He was starting to think it was the way the game was slated to be played, but he had not been given the opportunity to suit up.

They took the elevator to the eleventh floor and the hallway was quiet and cool. He took the key card, swiped the door, and let Reign inside. “Let me order up some champagne and a couple of glasses.”

“Mind telling me what we’re celebrating?” She turned around and put her hands on her hips.

There was no doubt she looked gorgeous when irritated.

“Not being shot at
again
?” he suggested. “I somehow think that might have been on our agenda this evening.”

She had the most beautiful mouth. He was fascinated, even though he should probably have been a lot more worried about the men who were out there wondering how they’d lost his car—hopefully.

“Could they have been FBI agents?” she asked.

“I haven’t done anything illegal lately.” He moved toward the table and the phone. “You?”

“Oh, seriously?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“That is an ‘I am going to kick your ass if we ever have to have this conversation again.’ Yes, I’ve committed a crime recently. I really should never have designed that dress with fringe on the hem, but I did it anyway. That’s a crime. Call me impulsive. Fashion citation, right there. Fringe, right? Who am I? Pocahontas? Otherwise, no. Under the definition of the laws of the state of New York, nothing illegal. Well, I parked in a loading zone for about six minutes the other day. Sue me.”

“You are pretty hot when you are mad.”

“I was under the impression I was hot all the time.”

The way her tone had altered spelled a better ending for his up-and-down evening. He punched in the numbers on the phone and asked for a very—
very
—expensive bottle of champagne, charged it to the room, and then hung up and took off his coat. “When room service knocks, let me answer the door. One never knows.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Reign dropped into a chair. “You know, I sometimes wonder how I signed on for this rollercoaster ride.”

“You and me both.” He discarded his tie in a careless toss. “But, truth be told, I think I might find being a minister boring. Not that they aren’t good people. I’m just saying.”

“That would be the church of what?” For the first time since he’d found the GPS, she finally laughed.

“I have to admit I am unsure of the denomination myself.”

“Yes, well, that might be a church that all those who seek redemption might want to avoid.” Her voice altered. “What do we do now?”

“We drink champagne and make love. Then fall deeply asleep.”

“My son—”

“Reign, I think we’ve both figured out this isn’t about that sort of thing. They either want you, or maybe you’re not it and they want me. I’m very aware of Vince, but you’ve called and warned him, not to mention passing on the message through your father. There isn’t one part of me that does not think the minute we walked out of that prison, your father wasn’t pulling strings.”

“Tell me about yours.”

Why had he been afraid all along they would have to have this conversation?

“Italian men talk about their mothers. We leave our fathers out of it. Don’t you know anything?” He moved and checked the window. The street looked clear.

“So he’s dead. I wondered.”

“Look—” He started to tell her that perhaps they should just change the subject, but her gaze was sympathetic and he wanted her and … oh hell, this was apparently really complicated.