Fugitive Heart - By Bonnie Dee Page 0,20
the FBI took some kind of bribe to beat the shit out of my father, who wanted out of the business. That crooked agent broke both his legs, his arm, a couple of ribs, his jaw. I don’t think the system is full of corrupt guys like Agent Kennedy, but…” He shrugged.
She picked up her water glass, hoping he’d made up the story. At least he was talking to her. She should encourage this. Maybe she should have tried to record this conversation. She fiddled with the phone in her pocket and wished she’d read the guide. He paid too close attention to her now. She couldn’t fish it out and push random buttons to record the conversation.
“Mr. Ross, or Rossi, you think the FBI isn’t looking for you? I have news for you, they’re the ones who mentioned your name when I asked about my brother’s disappearance.” The investigator she’d hired had some kind of license, after all, so it wasn’t entirely a lie.
He fell silent for almost a full minute and scowled at nothing in particular. “Wow. Shit. Then the feds must have an insider with the Espositos. I’ve seen it go the other way around—the Espositos usually know what any organized crime task force is up to. But this? Their security must be off. They’re usually better than this.”
He wasn’t denying a single word.
Except he didn’t seem upset by the thought of the FBI winning. It might have been an act, but that fact helped ease the heart-racing nausea she’d felt since telling him she knew who he was.
She even felt brave enough to push. “Who’re the Espositos and what have they done to my brother?”
“My father’s boss was Cesar Esposito. The guy is also my dad’s second cousin, which is why our family’s even involved. His son is Bert. One or both are after me. After Elliot. That’s all I’m gonna tell you.” He leaned forward, studying her as if trying to read her mind. “But I have to know. Did you tell anyone you found me? Speaking of which, how did you find me?”
“I told you, an Internet search. It wasn’t that hard. Your photo, taken at the opening of a nightclub, popped up, and then I knew for sure who you were.”
The furrow between his brows deepened. “Did you leave any kind of path back to you when you did this search?”
She ignored the question. She wanted information from him, not the other way around.
He still studied her face. How could anyone maintain such a level of intensity for more than a minute? “I take that as a no. Good thing.”
Uh-oh. Now he believed no one else in Arnesdale knew his true identity. When they left the restaurant he could knock her out, shove her into a trunk, and no one would suspect him.
She blurted, “Yes. People know what I’m doing. They know I’m here with you.”
“You mean people like whatshername, Marty, at the Back Porch? Did you tell her anything about Nick Rossi?” He braced his hands on the edge of the table as if he’d push away and jump up.
She stared at the checkered tablecloth and didn’t answer, but he must have seen the truth.
“Good,” he said. “That’s good you didn’t say anything. We most definitely don’t want this getting back to New York.”
Ames knew she was a rotten liar but, damn it, she hadn’t even opened her mouth. He just watched her closely—maybe more closely than anyone in her life ever had. Figured the first man who could melt her knees with his kisses and who really paid attention to her might be a dangerous criminal.
The waitress appeared again. Nick smiled at her as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “I’ll take the special. The one with, um, salmon.”
Ames was too upset to eat. She was on the cusp of solving the mystery of Elliot’s disappearance at last and she was terrified of what she would find out. “Just some iced tea.”
“How about a piece of pie or something? We could share if you want.” He sounded playful, as if they were out on a regular date.
“Sure. Okay. Peach, please.”
The waitress left.
She’d try some of that intense staring on him. “What’s happened to Elliot? Is he alive? Have you seen him? I want to know everything. Right. Now!”
He shifted in his chair, glanced around the room before focusing on her again. “I didn’t set up your brother. Didn’t you know he worked for the Espositos?”
Elliot didn’t tell her