Dark Deeds Page 4

  She snuck a look toward the circle of people chatting around Diego. He was immersed in conversation with Noah. Diego’s mother was nearby, too, which reminded her she should have asked Diego how his family was coping...but doing so would have admitted she thought of them more often than she was comfortable with, or opened her up to rejection.

  The past was best left in the past. They’d found mutual satisfaction—Diego had used her, she had used him. And when her heart became involved, it had been time to skip town.

  Bodyguard, protect thyself.

  A hand at her elbow brought her attention back. Her boss had approached without notice. “Could I have a moment alone with you?” Damian Manchester’s gaze was apologetic as it landed on Catherine. “It’ll just be a moment.”

  Catherine waved them away. Sixty years old and still trim and fit, Damian Manchester cut a fine figure in his tuxedo as he led Becca to the fringe of the room. He turned to face her, the lines around his eyes and mouth more pronounced than usual, likely due to the added stress of the past couple months, when old wounds that had long scarred over had been freshly sliced open.

  A shadow lurked in his eyes. “Sorry to pull you away.”

  “It’s okay. It sounds important.”

  “We seem to have acquired a unique type of...fan. In fact, that’s what he calls himself. The SSAM Fan.” His gaze swept their surroundings.

  Becca dropped her voice. “Is someone stalking you?”

  “Not really stalking. I’m not sure how to categorize him. He’s contacted me repeatedly—text messages, emails, news clippings...”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “A couple years, but it always seemed harmless, until this past week.”

  “Years? What happened this past week that was so different?”

  “He mentioned you in his last email.”

  “Me?”

  “Let’s talk at breakfast tomorrow,” he said hastily as Vanessa and Noah made their way to them. “I wanted to give you a heads up, just in case.” Obviously, Damian wanted to keep the SSAM Fan low key for now, probably out of respect for the happy nature of the weekend’s events.

  She smiled and talked about the wedding with Vanessa and Noah while her mind raced with Damian’s new information. What exactly had the SSAM Fan said that would involve her?

  “What’s the scoop?” Catherine’s brow knitted in concern as Becca rejoined her minutes later. As their mother hen, she had a sixth sense for whenever one of her chicks, including Damian, was in trouble. “Is there something new in Samantha’s case?”

  “I wish, but no.” Except my ex-lover might be accepting bribes from the organization involved in her disappearance. Becca wouldn’t tell Catherine about that yet, however. Technically, there wasn’t anything new in the investigation...until she got the facts straight.

  The tinkling sound of a fork against glass brought the crowd to silence as Noah claimed everyone’s attention. “I’d like to make a toast to my bride.”

  “She’s not married yet,” someone in the crowd shouted and everyone laughed.

  “She will be.” Noah’s gaze turned hot as it landed on Vanessa. “I know a good thing when I see it and she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. There’s no way I’m letting her go.”

  “And there’s no way I’d leave you,” Vanessa replied.

  Becca’s heart clenched as she recalled how she’d snuck out of Diego’s apartment all those months ago. Leaving as if they’d done something criminal. As if what they’d shared were dirty.

  But it was her, and her conscience, that was dirty.

  Chapter Three

  Despite his best efforts to remain disengaged, Diego was aware of every move Becca made. Every inhalation of breath, every curve of her lips, every subtle glance in his direction was on his radar—including the three minutes during which her boss pulled her aside. Damian Manchester had come to New York to help Diego catch Natalee’s killer last summer. The man was typically intense, but tonight his body language indicated something more was going on. Had Becca truly been working a case earlier?

  During Noah’s toast, Becca seemed melancholy. The speech touched Diego, too, and he wanted...hell, he didn’t know what he wanted. To say the words that would clear the shimmer of tears in her eyes? To pull her to him and console her in the way they’d always communicated well? His body rejoiced at the thought, cheering him on, knowing what lush comfort lay in her arms. Not that she’d want to rekindle what they had, or that it would comfort her in the least.

  She didn’t want him, period. Not anymore.

  Besides, his blood turned to lava whenever he touched her, so embracing her, holding what he wanted knowing he’d have to release it again, would be the equivalent of masochistic torture. Jesus, the woman tied him in knots. Yet, the moment she moved with a hurried gait toward the ladies’ room, he followed as if drawn to her by an invisible string.

  He lingered outside the restroom door, pretending to examine the artwork on the wall when people walked by so he wouldn’t look like a total creep. Finally, Becca emerged. Shit, she had been crying. Most of her mascara had been wiped away and her lashes were spiky. She still looked like sex on a stick, and he berated himself for even thinking about that at a time like this. But with Becca, it had always been that way. Instant chemical reaction.

  She came to a sudden stop when she spotted him. Her surprise dissipated as she stiffened her spine. “It’s just allergies. Something’s in the air.”

  “Good to know. Can we talk?”

  “Sure. I’m sure there’ll be some down time at the reception tomorrow night.”

  He knew that trick. Had used it on women to distract them or put them off, and then they never talked because he’d found a way to leave by then. The irony that the tables had been turned was not lost on him.

  “Now’s good for me.” He arched a brow in challenge. He’d never known her to back down from a dare, but maybe he didn’t really know her. Still, she’d been there for him in those awful, dark days following Natalee’s death. And he’d been a dick to her when she finally showed up tonight. He’d pulled on his tough-guy cloak and acted like he was done with her. She deserved better, despite the way she’d left him. At the time, he’d called and left her a message after she returned to Chicago, but she hadn’t called him back. Ever. What if she’d changed since then? She definitely seemed to have sharper edges. The thought saddened him.

  Becca looked toward the party. “Now’s not good for me. Besides, we already talked.”

  “Not really. A few minutes are all I’m asking for. Unless you’re afraid.” Goading her was a sure way to invoke her stubborn pride. “Or I could show up at your hotel room later, if that’s more convenient.”

  She scowled. “Fine. You have two minutes, but outside.”

  “It’s cold as a witch’s teat out there.”

  “It’s that or nothing.”

  “I get it. You don’t want your date to see us alone together, even if it’s just talking.” The thought both pleased and irritated him in equal measure.

  She opened her mouth to reply, then snapped it closed and strode to the hostess by the door. Diego caught up to her as she handed over the claim for her coat. He reached around her to do the same, catching a whiff of Becca’s citrus scent. It immediately transported him back to a night they’d spent in each other’s arms at a cheap motel...and the early-morning shower that had left the tantalizing smell of her soap filling the tiny room. His mouth watered, remembering the creaminess of her skin—richer in flavor than the gourmet appetizers they’d just indulged in. Other parts of him grew uncomfortably hard with awareness. He distracted himself by observing the playful way the light gleamed like white flames against the tips and curls of Becca’s hair.

  The attendant returned with their coats and Diego held the front door open for Becca. “After you.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do I get the sense I’m Little Red Riding Hood? Lose the wolfish gr
in, baby cakes. I pack a silver bullet, just in case.”

  She sauntered ahead of him. Because her coat only extended to her waistline, he enjoyed a nice view of her tight ass.

  “You might have to use that bullet,” Diego muttered to her backside. He hadn’t yet applied himself to scaling the walls she had erected, but she’d called what they’d shared fun, downgrading their time together to a quick fling. If that was the case, why not have a bit more fun this weekend? Remaining aloof sure as hell wasn’t working.

  Once upon a time, they’d had a special connection—one he hadn’t had before and definitely not since. Was there a way to get that back? His colleagues viewed him as a slug, treated him like dirt, and Herrera’s judgmental grimace had haunted him all evening. Diego was tired of people not seeing the real him. Becca had given him the freedom to be authentic last summer. Maybe he could find that again, maybe she could save him again...even if just for a couple nights.

  It was even colder than he’d predicted. Inside his coat, he hunched his shoulders to trap the warmth. Becca stopped several feet away from the front door, within a ring of light from a street lamp, her moist breath creating a fog. She would be frozen solid soon, and was probably banking on that as an excuse to get away from him faster. On the plus side, the cold kept down the pedestrian traffic, so they were alone.

  “Okay, so...talk.” She tilted her face up to him, the city lights giving her skin an ethereal glow. Her expression was guarded, but she’d clearly been hurting earlier.

  “I’m sorry I was an ass,” he said.

  Surprised, she laughed. “Okay.”

  “I don’t even know why I acted that way. I didn’t know what to say, I guess.”

  “I know the feeling.” Her muttered words gave him hope. If he could raze her defenses, maybe he’d get to the truth.

  “What happened between us last July? I thought we were having a good time, and then you were gone before I could blink. You didn’t even return my call.”

  She frowned. “And you would have preferred a clingy girlfriend? I had to get back to work in Chicago, you had to get back to your life here in New York. We both knew going in that what we had was a temporary thing. A distraction. That we would eventually walk away. No harm, no foul.”

  Diego fisted his hands in his pockets as she rattled off cliché after cliché, making their affair into a moment in time that was...a cliché. Walking away had always worked for him in the past, but not now. Not with her. He might not be doing much right lately, but everything with her had been...perfect. How could he make her remember how good it had been? All he knew was her lips were turning blue and, despite his frustration, he wanted to kiss the rosy warmth back into them.

  She shook her head. “That’s not the answer.”

  “What?”

  “Falling into bed. Sex. The way you’re looking at me. Now that we’re within fifty feet of each other again, I’m supposed to help you scratch some kind of itch?”

  Something like that. He’d never craved a woman like he craved her—her body, her mind, her smile. Hell, he’d missed her. Missed what they’d shared.

  “You don’t feel this...whatever it is...between us?” Maybe she hadn’t been as attracted to him as he had been to her.

  “Arousal is a temporary condition. You’ll survive...and you’ll get over it.” Something chimed in her coat pocket and she reached inside, pulling out her cell phone. “I’ve got to go.” Staring down at the screen, she moved past him.

  Sensing he had to say more or he’d never get another opportunity, he reached out. “Wait.”

  But she’d already frozen, so when he tugged on her arm, she stumbled backward into him. She quickly pushed away and regained her feet. But it wasn’t him she was looking at. She was staring at her phone, her breathing irregular as the color drained from her cheeks. Her instant alarm was so un-Becca-like that adrenaline pumped into his system, preparing him to face the unknown danger.

  As if reorienting herself to her surroundings, Becca whipped her head left and right, glancing down the sidewalk, then narrowed her gaze at the door to the gallery. The tiny furrow that always made him want to kiss her between the eyes deepened as she concentrated once more on her phone’s screen. As he moved to look over her shoulder, she shoved the phone into her pocket and out of sight.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I have to find Damian.”

  “He left the party shortly after your discussion.” Mentally, he kicked himself for revealing how much he’d been keeping tabs on her, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  She raised her hand as if she could flag a cab on the deserted side road. Realizing the futility, she spun on her heel and walked with purpose toward the main street a couple buildings away, where there was actually some traffic.

  “Talk to me, damn it.” The very bad feeling expanded and, along with the icy air, filled his chest as he jogged.

  His strides were twice the length of hers, yet he had to hustle to keep up. Tension radiated off her. Her cheeks were flushed now from running, her breath clouding the air in quick puffs. Her eyes were bright as she stopped suddenly at the next street and held up a hand to flag a cab.

  Diego maneuvered her so she wasn’t so close to the curb, where cars were zipping by fast enough to pull her into traffic. He stood in front of her, forcing her to notice him. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” She exhaled and quivered.

  Diego sensed it wasn’t due to the cold, though a distinct chill was seeping into his limbs. “Bullshit. Show me.”

  She must have heard the determination in his voice because she reached into her pocket and held out the phone. There was a text message from an unknown sender.

  My admiration for you knows no bounds. We’re on the same team, fighting the good fight. Keep doing your important work for Damian, and for Sam, like this afternoon. Ever yours, The SSAM Fan.

  A picture was attached, but before he could click to enlarge it and get a closer look, she jerked the phone from his hands.

  “Who’s the SSAM Fan? What’s in the picture?” All he’d seen was what looked like red and yellow writing on a window. Clearly, it meant something to her.

  Seemingly oblivious to his questions, she pushed past him as a cab pulled up. She climbed in and gave the driver the address for the hotel where she and the other wedding guests were staying.

  Becca scowled at Diego as he slid in beside her. “Nobody invited you.”

  “I’m not sure what just happened out there, but I’m not leaving you alone. You’re shaking like a leaf.” He yanked the door closed and the cab driver zipped into traffic.

  “Suit yourself. Crap. I need to call my...date.”

  The fact that the fight had gone out of her told him all he needed to know. Whatever the message meant, she was rattled. But she wasn’t leaning on the guy whose ear she’d whispered in at the gallery. In fact, she’d forgotten all about him. Diego’s concern for her stifled the fleeting triumph.

  “I’m surprised he didn’t come out to check on you.” He looked out the back window at the sidewalk where they’d stood moments ago. No sign of the Viking.

  Ignoring his jab at her date, she dialed her cell phone and held it to her ear. “Hey, I had to head out... Yeah, I’m fine. Just something work-related. Sorry I had to ditch you.” Her voice had turned soft.

  Shit. Maybe he had competition after all.

  Competition? Was he really thinking of pressing his luck with Becca and pursuing a fling? Deep down, he realized he’d been hoping for a chance to recapture that happiness, even if only for a couple days.

  “I’ll call you later,” Becca said into the phone. “It would be better if you met me there.”

  Met her where? At her hotel room? He gritted his teeth as jealousy reared its ugly green head.

  “Love you, too,” Becca told the Viking.

  Diego’s heart plummeted. So much for competition. He wasn’t even in the race.

  * * *

&nb
sp; Before the cab pulled up to the hotel, Becca made a quick call to Damian to let him know about the text from the SSAM Fan. Aware that Diego was listening, she left out the part about the attached photo. Her heart was still pounding with the image she’d glimpsed. The message was extremely personal. The Fan had obviously known about her meeting at the diner earlier. Which meant Selina could be in danger and Becca had no way to warn her except via email. Shit.

  Could it have been Diego? Did he know Becca was investigating the Circle and was meeting with the one woman who’d escaped the crime organization’s grasp? But he’d been at the wedding rehearsal while Becca was returning from Hoboken, and he’d been standing right in front of her when she’d received the text. Then again, he could have alerted somebody within the Circle. The pressure behind her eyes built to a crescendo as scenarios played out in her head.

  She and Damian had arranged to meet in her room, so she had to ditch Diego. She opened her door the moment the cab came to a stop.

  “Take him wherever he wants to go.” She handed the driver some cash and bolted from the car.

  “Like hell.” Diego followed her onto the sidewalk and the cab pulled away, leaving them standing there. Together.

  “I’m safe. It’s been a long day, so I’m tucking in for the night. You can go home now.”

  But his feet were planted in a determined stance. “You must have forgotten to engage your cone of silence in the cab because I overheard everything you said to Damian. I know you’re meeting him. So I know you’re lying to me about tucking in for the night.” He took a step closer to her. “I hate lies.”

  And yet her source had named him as a mole for the powerful organized crime ring, which meant his career, his white-knight charade, his dedication to family and a better society, and his entire life was a lie. Her brain refused to wrap around the consequences of her misjudgment in character.

  She held her phone up. “You didn’t have someone send me this.” It was half statement, half question, and her doubts were clear.

  Diego frowned. “No. Why would I? Tell me what’s going on.”