Bailed Out (The Anna Albertini Files #2) - Rebecca Zanetti Page 0,40
of this, I’ll have to really sit down and figure out if I want to help him or not.”
“You already helped him with the drug charges,” she said quietly. “If you owed him from what happened when we were young, which I’m not sure you did, then you’ve repaid him by far. You might have to let him go.”
“I know,” I said softly.
“Why don’t you go out with Nick Basanelli?” she asked. “He hits all the marks.”
I shuffled the papers back into some semblance of order. “Two lawyers dating? That’s a disaster.”
“It’s better than a prosecuting attorney and a crook,” she returned.
“Nope. I think you and Nick make a much better couple,” I said. “You’re a great balance to each other. I think you’d bring a lot of light into his life, and he’d bring some much needed order and adventure to yours.” Yeah. I could totally see them together.
“Not in a million years,” she said. “We don’t have anything in common, and you know it.” The sound of a door closing echoed over the line. “Donna’s home with ice cream. Want to come over?”
Ice cream sounded wonderful. “Thanks, but I have to work early tomorrow.” I eyed the piano. “Bye.” She said bye and hung up.
I moved to the piano and lifted the cover, wandering my fingers lazily across the keys. The thing was nicely in tune. Humming, I started to play a couple of early Bon Jovi songs before moving on to songs from a few movies. Playing relaxed me, and I let myself drift for a while.
A hard pounding on my front door had me jumping.
I stood and hurried to the door to peek through the peephole. Aiden? He was looking down. I opened the door and he stumbled in, looked around, and dropped to my floor. Blood dotted his neck and down one leg.
“Aiden?” I looked quickly outside, didn’t see a threat, and slammed the door to lock it.
He groaned. “Were you just playing the theme song from Jaws?”
Adrenaline flooded me. “Do I need to get my gun?”
“No.” Aiden rolled over and plucked a stick out of his thick hair. Groaning, he sat up and put his back to the wall next to the piano. His jeans were ripped, and blood covered a hole near his knee. “Leave the gun safely in the bedroom.” Wincing, he reached behind his back and drew out a Glock to set beside him. “You can use this one if you want.”
“I prefer mine,” I said, noting the sticks and branches stuck in his hair and on his dirty T-shirt. “What happened to you?”
He planted a scratched and bloody hand on the floor and pushed himself to stand, where he wove for a second on his feet. “I was riding my bike and got hit by a car.”
I winced and leaned in to look at his too blue eyes. His pupils looked okay. I leaned to the side to study a scrape along his neck and a bruise already forming adjacent to his right eye. “I’ll call the police.” Then I turned toward the kitchen table where I’d left my phone.
He stopped me with a hand on my bicep. “No police.”
I shut my eyes and exhaled. No police. Why didn’t that surprise me? I turned to face him. “Aiden.”
He released me and pulled some brambles off his shirt near his way too packed hard abs. “I didn’t see the car and have nothing to help the police find the driver. Besides, I don’t think the police really want to help me right now.”
“If there’s somebody out there running people over, we need to call it in,” I said.
He looked up, his gaze meeting mine and nearly knocking me back. Man, his eyes were blue. Like a deep and dark pool of night with a hint of sapphire. “Oh, the driver was aiming for me, Aingeal. He or she isn’t out there looking for other motorcyclists to knock into trees.” His jaw hardened along with those eyes. “I’ll take care of it.”
I shivered. Why was a threat said with a slight Irish brogue all the more dangerous? “Did the car follow you or were they waiting close to my place?”
“I think they followed me,” he said, kicking off his dirty boots near the door.
I crossed my arms to keep from reaching for him to check his injuries. It was so difficult being a grownup sometimes. “Why were you riding my way?” Might as well face him head on.