Ducky—or Duffy—who didn’t so much as glance at her. The bald guy was still eyeball-to-eyeball with Les.
Bert rested his hand on her shoulder in a cozy, possessive manner that made Nick’s head spin. “She’s helping me with my inquiries. Mine. I don’t know what my father told you, but I’m in charge here. Why don’t you give him a call, Phil?”
Phil retreated and ran his free hand over his dark, greasy head. “Too early there. We can wait.”
“No. We can’t.” Bert lost the smile. “I’m sick of him poking his nose into business I said I’d take care of.”
“Thing is, we work for him. Understand?” Phil shifted from foot to foot, his black running shoes crunching on the gravel.
Les sniffed and spat, then continued to stare at Bert’s bald enforcer.
Nick couldn’t stand the growing tension. “You guys are working for the same result. You want to get the stuff back to the original owner. I can give you at least some of it.” He raised his eyebrows and looked at Ames, hoping Bert would understand the point of his vague talk. She doesn’t know anything.
Bert pulled his hand from his jacket pocket, and Nick could see Phil’s shoulders relax a little.
Les was still on high alert, staring at Bert’s guy as if he was the only dangerous thing in the landscape.
“Okay. Let’s get moving and find out what you have.” Bert rubbed his hands together as if anticipating some kind of treat. “Les, you and Duffy stay out here with Miss Jensen.”
Duffy, not Ducky, unfolded his arms.
One goon from each side, Nick thought. That should keep her safe. Especially since grouchy Les seemed to be more interested in Duffy than in harassing Ames.
He walked over to her and studied her face. “You okay?” he asked. He wanted to touch her, make her smile, kiss her. But just approaching her was already asking for trouble.
The dark circles under her eyes pissed him off. These damned Espositos didn’t belong in her little town—and he’d led them straight to her house.
“Rossi, what the fuck you doing?” Phil called.
Asking for trouble was the answer. He trudged back toward Phil and Les. Bert walked next to him, too close. “Your friend Jensen turned out to be a real smooth character,” Bert said quietly.
“I know.”
“Had me fooled and made me look really bad. I don’t like that. Not with my father on my ass all the time. I don’t want to give Pop any excuse and Jensen just handed him a great reason to give me a load of shit.”
“Yeah. Elliot’s turned out to be a pain in the ass for me too.”
“Where exactly is the stuff we came for?” Phil gestured to the house with his gun, and Ames gave a small cry of alarm. She must not have noticed the gun before. Nick turned back. He wished he could yell at her, This is why you should have stayed hidden.
“We’re fine. No problem,” Nick called to her instead. Then he walked into the house and away from her, one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
He didn’t trust Les. He didn’t know Duffy well, and he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to Ames.
“She better be safe,” he said as they banged though the front door into the cold, dark house.
“Sure, sure,” Bert said, uninterested.
Nick led them to the kitchen table, where he’d stacked the cash in neat piles. “How much money did you say was missing?” he asked Bert. His old friend cut a quick glance at Phil and didn’t answer.
Phil leaned down and started pawing through the cash. “Where’s the flash drive? The notebook?”
“You let Ms. Jensen go, and I’ll tell you where it is.”
“You’ll tell me,” Bert gently corrected.
“I’ll tell you both.”
“You might not think you have a dog in this fight, Nick, but you’re wrong.”
Nick understood his point, and Bert was right. He was in danger if Les and Phil got custody of him. He raised both hands as if Bert had pulled a gun. “Okay. I appreciate the fact that you’re less…less likely to take extreme measures. But you and your dad have been squabbling for years, and I’ve seen what happens to people who pick sides. I’m not doing that. I’ll help you both. But you have to let her go and—”
And that moment, a shot rang out.
Ames should have listened to Nick and stayed hidden like a rabbit tracked by dogs. He’d watched her as they’d talked, and she knew he was worried about her. He had