Snapped (8 page)

"Bed? Rest? Since when do those two
things go together?" She laughed when he stiffened.

"We'll go to your place and pick up
some things then I'll take you to the house in St Jude."

"Ooh, St Jude, lovely. Does it have
a view of the ocean?"

"Don't push it. The only water
you'll see from there will be in the bathtub."

"Spoil sport."

One side of his sexy lips lifted into a
smile. "It's a safe house not a beach house. You're not meant to have
fun."

"Are you going to stay with
me?"

"No."

"Then you're right. I won't be
having fun."

His smile vanished but he said nothing as
they left the hospital and got into his Commodore. Her head still ached and her
chest burned where the seat belt had cut into her but apart from that, she felt
fine. All she needed was some rest and time for her bruises to heal. Maybe a
few days peace and quiet would be good.

"What did Janet Mollino say?"
she asked, pressing the button to lower her electric window. She needed air. It
might have been winter but the heat from the sunshine made the car stuffy.

"None of your business."

She sniffed. "I just wanted to
compare notes. Maybe she told me something important."

"Okay then, shoot." He flicked
his indicator to turn into Punt Road then wound down his window as they joined
the flow of traffic. "What did she tell you?"

"That Mack Thompson and Rocco
Mollino have the best motives for killing John but Rocco was close to his
cousin."

Nick nodded but kept his eyes on the
road. He stuck to the speed limit which confirmed Lucy's suspicion that he
wasn't a risk-taking kind of guy. He might
look
dangerous, but in his
case, looks were deceiving. Which would make her job harder.

She loved a challenge.

"I've spoken to both men. They were
pretty cut up over John's death. In fact, everyone was. Except for Janet."

She glanced across at him and admired his
profile. It could have been cut from a piece of granite it was so hard and
angular. And perfect, except for the scar. On him, the slight imperfection just
made him more appealing, sexier. "You think she killed her husband?"

He leaned his elbow on his door and
rested his other hand in the twelve o'clock position on the steering wheel. "She's
the main beneficiary in his will and his life insurance. Rocco gets the
business but she gets all the houses and the share portfolio. Not a bad little
sum when you add it up. And she doesn't exactly look like the grieving
widow."

"He cheated on her, what do you expect?"

He said nothing for a while, then on a
breath he said, "I suppose. She deserves monetary compensation for what he
put her through." He shook his head. "She must have been humiliated
when she found out he was cheating. The disappointment and self-loathing she
would have felt afterwards..." He glanced at Lucy. "Anyway, you're
right, she deserves the money."

What the hell was that all about? Humiliation?
Self-loathing? Disappointment? "Speaking from experience?"

He didn't answer her. In fact, he didn't
speak all the rest of the way to her Richmond apartment. When they reached her
boxy Fifties-style brown building, she dug her keys out of her handbag.

He blocked the door and held out his
hand.

She raised both brows. "What?"

"Your keys."

"I can unlock the door myself. I'm
not an invalid."

He stepped aside with a shrug. "Sorry
I offered," he muttered.

She unlocked the door then trudged
upstairs, fighting the urge to turn around to see if she could catch Nick
staring at her butt. Pity she wasn't wearing something tighter than the suit
pants.

At the door to her apartment, he stood in
front of her again. "I insist this time. We don't know who's inside."

"I do know kick boxing," she
said.

He held out his hand for the key. "So
do I, plus I've got a gun."

"You win." She handed him the
keys. Feminism was one thing, but there was no need to go overboard. Besides,
she kind of liked his chivalry. Most men never insisted after she mentioned the
kick boxing.

He opened the door and stepped inside. She
followed. He checked the bedroom, kitchen and bathroom then turned to her. "No
one here."

"Won't be long." She headed for
the bedroom, pressing her answering machine button as she passed to hear the
messages.

"Hi, this is Mack Thompson. You
don't know me, but I was a colleague of John Mollino. I, ah, was wondering if
we could chat sometime."
He gave a phone number and the message ended.

Lucy looked at Nick. "What's he
calling me for?"

"I don't know, but I'll be asking
him when I speak to him."

The machine beeped and a second message
crackled to life.
"Speak to the cops and you're dead."

Lucy's knees went weak and she gripped
the bench for support. Something solid slipped around her back and propped her
up.

"You okay?" Nick's luxurious
voice hummed along her nerves. His hand rubbed her back in a circular motion
and she leaned into him, wanting to be enveloped by his strength.

"Yeah."

He stepped away and she caught the bench
to regain her balance after the sudden loss of his solid body. "Lets get
out of here."

Nick paced the small living room as Lucy
disappeared into her bedroom. He didn't like this. His suspicion had just been
confirmed with that message and he wished it hadn't been. Thank God she was
going with him willingly to the safe house. He'd thought she'd refuse, but her
acceptance had come as a pleasant surprise.

He flipped open the answering machine,
plucked the tape out and pocketed it. At least he now had more evidence to give
to the chief. He hadn't been too eager to go along with the safe house option
so the tape would at least justify it to his bosses.

Why the hell was someone trying to kill
Lucy? It didn't make sense. She'd already given her evidence. She'd seen
nothing in that apartment to make her suspicious and she was a trained PI.

Unless the killer
thought
she'd
seen something.

Nick leaned against the kitchen bench. Oh
hell. He liked this less and less. Just when he thought he wouldn't have to see
her ever again, this happened. Now he'd never get her sexy walk, her soft lips
and her pert breasts, out of his head.

He glanced around her apartment. It was
clean. Not a single dirty dish sat in the sink. Either she ate out a lot or
always washed up after a meal. As a guess, he'd say the first one. And he
doubted she ate alone, or paid.

Lucy came out of the bedroom carrying a
large sports bag. She'd changed out of the somber suit which made her look like
a sexy businesswoman and into her usual figure-hugging black pants and sweater.
The outfit showed every muscle and from the way her breasts moved underneath,
she wasn't wearing a bra.

He cleared his throat and looked away. At
least the outfit hid more than the hospital gown. Now
that
had stretched
him to near breaking point, especially when she'd bent over.
Don't go there
again, Dante
.
He couldn't afford to let Lucy know she'd made him
hard just by showing a little flesh. But, boy, what soft, white flesh...

"Ready?" he croaked.

She nodded but disappeared into the
bedroom again. She came out carrying a large gray cat. "I have to take
Oscar."

He should say no, but he had the feeling
arguing wouldn't get him anywhere so he nodded.

"And I should call my mother."

"You can call when we get to St Jude.
I think we should get out as soon as possible."

She smiled. "What a pity we won't be
spending much time together at the house. I know some fun games we can play to
pass the time."

"I bet you do."

"You can even keep your clothes on
for some of them."

He shook his head but quietly thanked the
Powers That Be that he wouldn't be spending more time than necessary with her. He
wasn't a saint. He could only be teased for so long before he cracked.

They locked her apartment and got back in
the Commodore. She gently put on her seat belt, holding it away from her
bruises with one hand while she cuddled the cat with the other. Just as he pulled
out of her street his cell phone rang. He pulled over and answered it.

The chief's voice barked a greeting. "There's
been a double murder in Collins Street," he said. "Doesn't affect you
directly, but I can't commit any resources to protecting your witness. Not on a
hunch."

Nick filled him in on the message left on
Lucy's answering machine.

There was a long pause before the chief
swore. "Help me out here, Dante, I've got no one. I'm afraid either you or
O'Connor have to stay with her."

Some choice. Nick sighed. "I'll do
it." He wasn't leaving O'Connor alone with her. She didn't deserve that. He
glanced at Lucy and hung up. "I'll be staying with you in the house
tonight."

Her grin started out slow, seductive,
then turned up several watts. "Looks like it's going to be fun after
all."

CHAPTER 6

St Jude was usually only a ten minute
drive away but during peak hour it took half an hour and a lot of swearing from
Lucy.

"Relax," Nick said when a car
cut them off and she wound down her window to yell at the driver. At least that
meant her head must be feeling better. "Shouting and swearing isn't going
to get us there quicker."

"Neither is driving like you're in a
funeral procession." She patted Oscar's head. The cat, sitting placidly in
her lap, didn't seem to mind her occasional outbursts. He was probably used to
it.

When they stopped at a set of traffic
lights, he reached over and tickled the cat under his chin. He purred like a
Fifty-four Chev.

"He likes you," said Lucy. "He's
a good judge of character."

"I get the feeling he'd like anyone
who gave him a good scratch."

"He's easy to please."

The words
like me
hung in the air.
The lights turned green and the traffic moved forward. A car coming in the
opposite direction turned in front of them and Nick slammed his foot on the
brake. Lucy yelped and clutched her chest, her pale face laced with pain.

"You okay?" He pressed his hand
to the base of her neck and waited for her to open her eyes. "Lucy? Speak
to me."

She nodded and opened them. He let out a
long breath and drove on, but glanced at her frequently. Pain rimmed her eyes
and he wished he could take some of it away, absorb it. She was too small, too
fragile for this.

Fragile? Lucy Hudson was anything but
fragile. She'll be chewing bad drivers out when she turned ninety.

They drove in silence until they reached
the house, a two bedroom Federation style brick building that needed
renovation.

Lucy walked through her temporary home,
dropping her bags in the main bedroom. Not bad for a government building. It needed
new paint inside and out and the garden was a tangle of weeds but it was clean
and bright and had a huge sunken bathtub. She turned on the faucets. The pipes
banged out their protest and Oscar jumped out of her arms.

"Don't go far," she called
after him.

"I'm right here," said Nick,
looming in the doorway, arms and ankles crossed. Give him horns and he'd look
like the devil with that lopsided grin. "Do you need to take a bath
now?"

"Yep. I ache all over."

He nodded but didn't leave. Well, if he
didn't move, he'd suffer the consequences. She faced him and took off her
sweater, letting it drop to the floor. Nick's mouth formed an 'oh' and his eyes
widened before glazing over. Got him.

But his gaze had also got her. Heat
tingled her nipples, hardening them to points and something deep down became
moist.

Snapping his jaw shut he finally looked
away. "I better go."

She smiled after him. Score one for Lucy.
That was a look of admiration if she'd ever seen one. And she'd seen a few. But
for some reason it was so much sweeter seeing big Nick Dante's composure
shatter with one look at her breasts. She was glad she wasn't wearing a bra to
lessen the impact. Although she couldn't wear one at the moment with the seat
belt bruise slicing her diagonally in half.

She stepped out of her pants and stepped
into the warm bath, sighing as water floated around her, healing her bruises. Human
touch was another great way to heal bruises. Maybe before the night was over
she'd try that method.

***

Nick stalked from one end of the narrow
house to the other, checking everything was in order. But it was useless. As
soon as he got to one end, he couldn't recall anything except Lucy's full
breasts. They were perfect. Ripe, big enough to fill his palm with large,
cherry-colored nipples that looked like they'd respond to the lightest touch. In
that one moment, when she'd removed her sweater, he could have found out for
sure. She was so close, her jasmine scent screwed with his head and the sight
of all that white, smooth skin sent a jolt straight to his balls.