was. He’d followed a hunch that just wasn’t panning out. But he’d been so certain Elliot would flee to a place he considered “safe”, a place beyond the usual reach of the Espositos.
Nick jammed the shovel into the earth and rested his forearms against the handle. At this moment, he’d honestly like to kill Elliot himself. If it weren’t for that weasel, he’d be having a normal, unassuming day at the museum, probably writing fund-raising letters. Occasionally dull, that existence, but infinitely preferable to this mess. His friendship with Elliot had dragged him back into a world he’d carefully cut all ties with. Bloodlines kept the Rossis connected to the Espositos for life. A crime family was something Nick had been born into, never chosen. And now he was back on the Espositos’ radar, reliving the nightmare he’d seen play out with his father after he tried to leave.
He lifted his face from where it rested against his crossed arms and looked around the silent clearing. He still hadn’t grown used to the absence of humans and the presence of every other sort of other damn animal. Insects buzzed, birds called, leaves and sticks rustled as small creatures scampered through the woods. How easy it would be for someone to sneak up on him here as he blithely dug away and eliminate him. He’d even given wannabe murderers a nice head start on his own grave.
Sweat trickled down his spine. He cursed Elliot’s name and pulled the shovel from the earth. It was nearly time for his date with Ames. Time to go back to the house—her house, as he thought of it now—and stand under the weak stream of water in the shower, wash away the grime and sweat of his labors. He’d question her again, find out any details about Elliot that might open a new line of exploration. If he felt guilty about using Ames, he’d bury that guilt deep, maybe in one of the trenches he’d dug out in the woods or down in the basement.
Later, as he picked out a shirt to wear with his jeans, Nick was annoyed to realize he was taking his time choosing, considering his appearance and how he’d look to Ames. That was date thinking, and this didn’t count as a real date any more than last night had been. He sought out this woman for one reason only—to learn more about her brother.
That was what he kept telling himself right up to the moment when he rang the buzzer of her apartment and she appeared moments later in the doorway. Then the pretense collapsed.
He couldn’t suppress the goofy grin on his face even if he wanted to. He was that happy to see her again—as if he hadn’t just talked to her in the diner a handful of hours before. Her sunny presence made him feel more buoyant than he’d felt in a long time—including before this Esposito mess began.
“Hi. How was work?” he asked.
“Oh, you know, work-like.” She locked the door behind her and followed him down the steps on the side of the house, which had obviously once been a single-family dwelling, now converted into a duplex.
“I love the customers, really. But slinging hash is hard work.” She sounded almost unnaturally perky, and he wondered if she was still wearing her dealing-with-the-public front.
Nick glanced sideways at her. “So you’re starting up the web-design business you told me about?” He took a moment to appreciate her figure under the dark-blue skirt and flowered top with a neckline that he wished dipped a little deeper and showed more of that creamy skin.
“Yeah. It’s doing well but not quite well enough that I can quit the restaurant yet.”
“Starting a business isn’t easy.” They walked out to the crappy Volvo he’d bought for cash the morning after the shit hit the fan. He opened the passenger door for her and watched Ames climb inside. His gaze lingered on her legs when her skirt hiked higher.
“You mentioned being between jobs right now,” Ames said after he slid behind the steering wheel. “What business were you in
Nick jammed the shovel into the earth and rested his forearms against the handle. At this moment, he’d honestly like to kill Elliot himself. If it weren’t for that weasel, he’d be having a normal, unassuming day at the museum, probably writing fund-raising letters. Occasionally dull, that existence, but infinitely preferable to this mess. His friendship with Elliot had dragged him back into a world he’d carefully cut all ties with. Bloodlines kept the Rossis connected to the Espositos for life. A crime family was something Nick had been born into, never chosen. And now he was back on the Espositos’ radar, reliving the nightmare he’d seen play out with his father after he tried to leave.
He lifted his face from where it rested against his crossed arms and looked around the silent clearing. He still hadn’t grown used to the absence of humans and the presence of every other sort of other damn animal. Insects buzzed, birds called, leaves and sticks rustled as small creatures scampered through the woods. How easy it would be for someone to sneak up on him here as he blithely dug away and eliminate him. He’d even given wannabe murderers a nice head start on his own grave.
Sweat trickled down his spine. He cursed Elliot’s name and pulled the shovel from the earth. It was nearly time for his date with Ames. Time to go back to the house—her house, as he thought of it now—and stand under the weak stream of water in the shower, wash away the grime and sweat of his labors. He’d question her again, find out any details about Elliot that might open a new line of exploration. If he felt guilty about using Ames, he’d bury that guilt deep, maybe in one of the trenches he’d dug out in the woods or down in the basement.
Later, as he picked out a shirt to wear with his jeans, Nick was annoyed to realize he was taking his time choosing, considering his appearance and how he’d look to Ames. That was date thinking, and this didn’t count as a real date any more than last night had been. He sought out this woman for one reason only—to learn more about her brother.
That was what he kept telling himself right up to the moment when he rang the buzzer of her apartment and she appeared moments later in the doorway. Then the pretense collapsed.
He couldn’t suppress the goofy grin on his face even if he wanted to. He was that happy to see her again—as if he hadn’t just talked to her in the diner a handful of hours before. Her sunny presence made him feel more buoyant than he’d felt in a long time—including before this Esposito mess began.
“Hi. How was work?” he asked.
“Oh, you know, work-like.” She locked the door behind her and followed him down the steps on the side of the house, which had obviously once been a single-family dwelling, now converted into a duplex.
“I love the customers, really. But slinging hash is hard work.” She sounded almost unnaturally perky, and he wondered if she was still wearing her dealing-with-the-public front.
Nick glanced sideways at her. “So you’re starting up the web-design business you told me about?” He took a moment to appreciate her figure under the dark-blue skirt and flowered top with a neckline that he wished dipped a little deeper and showed more of that creamy skin.
“Yeah. It’s doing well but not quite well enough that I can quit the restaurant yet.”
“Starting a business isn’t easy.” They walked out to the crappy Volvo he’d bought for cash the morning after the shit hit the fan. He opened the passenger door for her and watched Ames climb inside. His gaze lingered on her legs when her skirt hiked higher.
“You mentioned being between jobs right now,” Ames said after he slid behind the steering wheel. “What business were you in
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