Playing with Fire (26 page)

So did he.

She must have hit her target because he went down, cursing and raising his weapon. Sal grabbed her and sent her sprawling as a spray of gunfire battered the railings of the loft and took out two windows. Now he was the one swearing and crawling to relative safety, the thick artistic part of the banister at the top of the stairs offering at least some cover. “Stand up and I’ll shoot you myself,” he said on a hiss. “Let me handle it, unless you have to do it because I’m dead.”

His ears were ringing and it hurt like hell to get to his knees, but one of the men was still moving and …

Reign completely disobeyed him.

She stood up and fired her weapon again.

Game over. She was a very good shot.

Both of the would-be assassins now seemed to be down amidst the mess of what once was a beautiful living space. Leaning weakly against the top of the stairs, Sal said, “You know, Reign, I think Fattelli has his hands full with you. Serves the bastard right.”

Chapter

T
WENTY
-
FOUR

Nick realized he was walking into a minefield.

There was a reason he knew Carre. The man had connections everywhere, and Nick had cultivated the introduction with the sole purpose of being able to have a friend that might be helpful.

Some friend.

Carre’s Manhattan office was much more elaborate than Reign’s. A corner window, mahogany desk, and if Nick had to call it, the young secretary that had shown him in did more than just take messages.

“Fattelli.” Carre rose and offered his hand. “So good to see you. Have a seat.”

The shake was brief, but then again, Nick wasn’t sure just how this was going to play. He’d seen that wary look in a man’s eyes before. “Joey. How are you?”

“Good. Drink?”

“Uhm, no, but thanks.”

“Then I repeat, have a seat.” Carre waved a hand.

The chair Nick settled into was leather, soft and comfortable, but he was hardly relaxed. Just to make sure, he’d picked a chair with a clear view of the door.

Carre gazed at him expectantly.

Up to him to start the conversation. He got it. No problem. “I’m here because of Reign.”

“Grazi?”

“You know someone else named Reign? That surprises me.”

“No, can’t say that I do.” Joey Carre’s smile was brief and brittle. “You think I took out the hit?”

“Now …
that
is an interesting conclusion and a way to get right to the point. You know there’s a hit. Did you?”

“You think I’d admit to something like that?”

“I think you might arrange something like that, or apparently you’ve heard about it.” Nick smiled back. “And that wasn’t a denial.”

“It wasn’t, was it?”

Nick swore softly, “You son of a bitch.”

“My mother was actually a pretty nice lady. My father, on the other hand, was an ass.” Carre looked unmoved. “You know, the moment I saw you spot Reign at that party, I knew you were going to get involved in this, but hardly the way I wanted. I told Carlos you’d seen his face, he’d better take you out.”

“Why didn’t you just send him after her in the first place?”

“He didn’t do women. Not because he was morally opposed or anything—I’m fairly sure he would not have understood the word ‘moral’—but because he was superstitious as hell. Thought his grandmother might curse him if he killed a woman.”

“So you sent him after me?” Reign had been right on that score.

“Let’s just say when you left together, I assumed from the vibe I was getting that the two of you might end up in her bedroom. She’s not promiscuous, but she isn’t a nun either. Modern kind of female, and she liked you. After her breakup with Ariano, she’s been pretty reclusive.” Carre opened a drawer in his desk. Nick knew exactly why. “Her and Ariano? That’s why you’re here? I’m kind of surprised, given your attachment to the lady, that you left them together.”

He didn’t like the sound of it. “So you already know where she is?”

“Oh yeah.” Carre picked up a pen, but one hand was invisible. “She did a pretty good job with her son and her sister, but I’ll find them eventually. Reign and Ariano are already dead, you know. I got a text. It said, ‘The party is over.’”

It might not have even been what he said, it was the way he said it. Nick could swear he felt the exact same way he did the day he got the news his sister had been killed. Cold, lethal, the world coming into vivid focus, like a brilliant sunset. “
What?
”

The other man raised his gaze. “About five minutes ago. You shouldn’t have left her alone.”

There was no doubt Nick was finding it hard to swallow, much less think. “You’re bluffing. And I didn’t leave her alone.”

“Ariano isn’t on his A-game now, is he? Might be those two bullets he took recently. Shame about that. I think it was a case of mistaken identity or you wouldn’t be standing here today.”

So … they knew where she was. Carre was trying to rattle him. The fucker didn’t realize it had the opposite effect. He’d wipe that smug look off his face with a bullet. No one could do it better, or for a better cause: to rid the world of an unwanted waste of human cells. All Reign had done to the man was shown more talent in her profession.

Nick said coolly, “His family will run over you like a bulldozer.”

“That’s my problem, and besides, his family will blame hers. Don’t stand up, Fattelli. You’d lose.”

Like hell he would. Reign wasn’t dead either. He would feel it if she was, or so he assured himself. Maybe it was a superstitious Sicilian belief, but he felt their souls were somehow connected and she was
not
dead.

But Carre would be.

When he’d walked in he’d known he would be outgunned. Only one of him, and Carre was intelligent enough to know if he showed up there might be a confrontation. Nick had to wonder how many guns but really didn’t care. He hadn’t been so focused since he’d heard about Catherine, and maybe he was a little like his father. If someone deserved to die, they should.

So he stood and said calmly, “Let’s go.”

“Your meaning?”

“Go ahead. Pull on me. I know you have your hand on a gun. Try it.”

The asshole had absolutely no idea how resolute he was.

Or how good he was.

Carre said on a rasp, “You won’t walk out of here.”

“Neither will you. And as you just said, that’s my problem.”

It wasn’t like he was unprepared.

Carre made the mistake of moving.

Nick had two guns on him, one in the shoulder holster but also one tucked behind his jacket in his pants, easier to reach in a swift, decisive moment. Nick was faster—caught him in the chest with the first shot—and the other man’s shot went high, maybe brushing Nick’s arm, he couldn’t be sure, but he fired again and then Carre was down, sliding out of his chair.…

The man had a surprised expression, and it was a very satisfying moment when he went sprawling on the expensive rug, bleeding everywhere.

One down.

Nick fell to the floor as the door burst open, and then he rolled, taking out the first man who came charging in—never a good idea to be first in. The second one was more cautious, just a glimpse of his shadow in the doorway, and Nick called out, “Carre’s dead. No paycheck. Back off. Give me a show of empty hands and I won’t kill you.”

It had happened so fast he wasn’t even breathing hard.

Silence. Nick slid back toward the wall, his gun extended.

After a minute, he saw someone set down a gun in the doorway. A voice said, “Look, let me and Joyce just get out of here, okay? You get to deal with the cops. My weapon has my fingerprints on it but it hasn’t been fired, so you own those two dead bodies. I bet you’ll hear sirens in about two seconds. There are other offices in this building.”

Yes, he was bleeding, which meant he was at least nicked a little in the arm. Nick could feel the blood starting to soak his sleeve but adrenaline was an anesthetic. “Deal.”

“Never liked working for Carre all that much anyway.” The man muttered the words and a moment later the door to the reception area closed.

Fine.
Good
. How to leave the building without a lot of questions was an interesting dilemma, especially since he was bleeding, but he’d never been slow about thinking on his feet. Nick got up, not trusting anything or anyone, but the office outside was deserted. The secretary had even left her cup of coffee still steaming on her desk.

He could only think of one thing.

God, he was worried about Reign.… It couldn’t be true.… It
wasn’t
.

Being alone was a familiar friend. He was used to being alone. As he walked swiftly down the hallway to the stairs, rather than taking the elevator, he reflected that alone was more comfortable, because at the moment, he was frantic.

He called the burner phone he’d given her. Carre was playing him, maybe.…

“Hello.”

Her voice. He was so relieved he slipped on the stairs and almost went down. It could be that he was bleeding more than he’d thought at first. There was a certain weakness that might be relief but also might be blood loss. “You’re okay?”

“Uhm, kind of. Sal and I might be arrested. It seems fifty-fifty at this point. Our family names and this intruder thing happening so often isn’t winning our argument. They’d love to arrest someone and the others involved seem to be dead.”

But she
was
alive.

Blood dripped from his sleeve in a crimson stream. “I might be arrested too. But Carre feels a lot worse. Actually, let me rephrase, he doesn’t feel anything.”

“Nick!”

He used the handrail, but his palm skidded along it. “Let’s find out how good I am. Say, is it possible Sal could call his doctor friend? I might need a little assistance.”

“You?”

He heard the clang of the door at the bottom of the stairs and staccato voices issuing orders. Apparently the officers were covering all the bases. “I’ve got to get the hell out of here. Have I mentioned yet I’m in love with you?”

“I’m coming to get you.”

“No, you aren’t.” There was no doubt there was a trail of blood. Shit. He didn’t want Reign arrested too. He told her as he gained the alley through the back exit, “I’m going to call John. Meet me at the church instead?”

“I’m on my way.”

The police were in the stairwell now. He could hear their voices.

Move it.

Luckily he had left the Bentley around the corner in a parking garage that serviced blocks of offices and stores, and happened to be fairly deserted at this time. He had no illusions, the police could track him, but if he hurried, he might just walk away from this one.

There were times in his life he hadn’t cared much if he lived or died, but since meeting Reign, he was gaining a different perspective.

He fumbled in his pocket and pushed a button and the car came to life. Then he made a second call. “I might need a favor.”

“Of course.” His brother’s voice held alarm. “Nick?”

“I won’t stay long, but is there a back door where you can meet me and a place where I can wait for my ride? I might need to leave my car at the church for a day or two.”

Just in case anyone remembered the Bentley he was currently bleeding all over. It was a pretty distinctive car.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing major, and I promise you, dad would have approved of this one.”

John understood. They were brothers, but also part of a brotherhood they’d known their entire life. “I’ll pray for their souls. In the meantime, be careful. I’ll be waiting.”

*   *   *

Warm night, bright stars, and asphalt.

At the end of the day, Reign was left with sitting on the curb outside, as Sal’s new doctor girlfriend—or so it seemed—patched Nick up inside the apartment.

At least, if there was a good result to all of this, there was someone to help.

Sal, perched next to her, said with very Italian logic, “That was a good call on his part to ask for Jennifer. Do you and I know how to stitch up another human being? He would have had to go to the hospital, and it didn’t seem like something he wanted to do.”

Of course not. Then he’d have to explain how he got shot in the first place, and he left the scene deliberately to avoid the police. If Reign had to call it, she’d bet that there was already a request at all the area hospitals to watch for a gunshot victim. Nick had admitted he’d left a trail of blood.

Reign glanced over. Jennifer, was it? First names? She actually was pleased. It said something already that Dr. Altea would come to help if Sal called. Not to mention he obviously had her private number.

Sal looked wiped out again. Who could blame him? She had to ask, “Will she report? I have no idea yet what Nick left behind, but I doubt it was pretty.”

“She knows nothing about that and has made it clear she doesn’t want to know. I don’t think you and I know much about it either. He was shot. That’s what I said on the phone and she sure could tell once he got here.”

“Joey is dead.”

“Oh hell, yes. All over the news.” Sal looked a little pale in the streetlight from the parking lot, but not repentant. “I can’t believe no one managed to take out Carre before this, but if Fattelli took care of it, maybe he and I could be friends after all.”

“This possessive male crap annoys me.”

“Get used to it. I think probably Fattelli is pretty good at it. That’s my cue to go. Here he comes. Try to be nice. He just took a bullet. I can say with some authority it isn’t the most pleasant experience. At least his only went through the upper part of his arm.”

“You ask
me
to be nice?”

Sal kissed her. It was brief, just a touch of their lips. “We make a great team, but you aren’t still a member.” He let go of her hand. “Our last play together was pretty good, though, huh?”

He stood and left. The parking lot smelled faintly of urine, and insects circled the lights, and she really wished she’d bothered to bring down her wine, but maybe the police tape was part of the problem. The neighbors had called in the sound of gunfire.

Sal was replaced by Nick, who sank down on the sidewalk next her and touched her cheek. “Hey.”