Читать книгу A Shot at Love - Peggy Jaeger - Страница 9

Chapter Two

“She gonna be okay?” Ky asked the emergency room resident when he came out of Gemma’s cubicle.

“You family?”

Ky held up his badge.

“Oh. She should be. Knee is pretty tender. Not broken though, which is good. She needs to keep it elevated for a while, ice it down. Other than that, she should be good in a day or so.”

Ky thanked him and turned to his partner. “Anything?”

Jon shook his head. “Not yet. She gave a dynamite description of the guy. Profetti’s making copies of his sketch right now. She’s got a good eye for catching details.”

“Considering she was getting pummeled at the time.” Ky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I’ll get her statement. Why don’t you try to find out what you can about the guy who attacked her.”

“CSU should be done with her apartment. I’ll see if he left any prints. The gun might be an avenue.”

Ky nodded and turned his attention back to the emergency room cubicle.

When her call had come through to his cell he’d been packing it in for the day, just about to head back to his apartment. She sounded totally in control when she told him about the armed man who’d shoved his way into her apartment, demanding her camera. In less than ten minutes he and Jon were at her condo, which was already packed with people, including two paramedics and most of the neighbors on her floor. She was being tended to by one of the EMTs when she spotted him. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to feel that right jab to his stomach when he saw her again, but the minute she lifted those china-blue eyes and caught his stare, it came: quick, hard, and undeniable.

With little emotion, she told them what happened. When Ky asked Gemma if she could describe the man, figuring the answer would be “no,” he was shocked when she gave them a detailed rundown of the intruder’s appearance. She told Jon to get a sketch artist and she could give even more details, and he’d arranged for one to meet them in the emergency room. While waiting to be x-rayed, she’d done just as she’d told them. The sketch was almost like a photograph, it was so comprehensive and thorough. Just as Agent Profetti had finished, Gemma’s sister and brother-in-law arrived and were with Gemma now.

Ky entered the room and the conversation between the trio stopped.

“Agent Pappandreos?” Kandy Laine came toward him, her hand extended. “I’m Gemma’s sister, Kandy.”

“I recognize you, Miss Laine. The women in my family are huge fans.” He gave her a small smile and took her hand.

“Actually,” Kandy said, turning to her husband, “It’s Keane. This is my husband, Josh.”

The men shook hands, and Ky was quick to note he was being sized up by them both.

“Can I leave now?” Gemma asked from the bed.

He turned his attention to her. She was still clad in the hospital gown she’d been given when her leg had been x-rayed.

“I believe the doctor is signing the discharge papers right now.”

“Hallelujah.” She threw her arms up in the air.

“Have they found the man who did this?” Kandy asked Ky. “Do they know who he is?”

“No, ma’am. But your sister gave a very extensive description of him and my partner is running his likeness through our database. As for why he did it, well, that part’s obvious.”

He turned to Gemma.

“He thought I had the pictures of what happened today,” she said, folding her hands into her lap. “He said he saw me leave your office and followed me home.”

Ky nodded.

“Is my sister in danger because of this?” Kandy moved to Gemma’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder. Gemma snaked her own hand up and covered it.

Ky shot a quick glance at Josh. “I’m afraid so. They know who she is and where she lives. And now she’s seen one of them up close and can identify him. That makes her a liability.”

“Jesus,” Kandy said, tightening her grip. “Josh—,” she looked over at her husband, a plea on her face. He nodded.

“Agent Pappandreos, take a walk with me,” Josh said.

The men left the room together and Ky heard Kandy say something in a soothing voice to her sister.

When they were about halfway down the corridor, Josh stopped. “So who’d she see get taken out?”

Without giving him too much information, Ky filled him in on the federal case he’d been working for the past three years.

Josh whistled through his teeth.

“She was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Ky said, “and now she’s in danger because of it.”

“She needs to be kept out of sight until you find out who’s behind the killings,” Josh said.

“Oh, I know who’s responsible,” Ky told him. “It’s a question of being able to prove it before anything else happens.”

His phone pinged, and Ky looked down at the number written across the screen. “Excuse me. I’ve got to take this.”

Ky walked away from Josh. “Pappandreos.”

“I want a full report right now,” his boss, Special Agent in Charge Colin Tiege blared into the phone. Succinctly, Ky told him everything they knew of the attack, including the description Gemma had given. “Jon’s working it through the system now, see if we get a hit. But I know it’s connected to Ritandi. I feel it.”

“I agree. This has his stamp all over it. Who else would take out a hit on Calafano?”

“No one. It makes sense it was him. Calafano was set to do serious damage to Ritandi’s business with his testimony.”

“And now you have no witness. No one who can detail the operation like Calafano could.”

Ky remained silent. The anger and frustration filtering through the phone was identical to his own.

“To top off a lousy day, I just got my ass chewed out by that little pissant from the AG’s office.”

“Barly?”

“Yeah. Davison ‘I’m-an-asshole’ Barly. Jerk had the nerve to accuse us of sabotaging the case, of leaking Calafano’s whereabouts to Ritandi. He’s calling for yours and Winters’s heads on a platter, so don’t be surprised if you get a call. Prick.”

Department of Justice lawyer, Davison Barly, was, in Ky’s opinion, one of the most unpleasant, rude people he’d ever had the misfortune to work with. Over the year since he’d been assigned to the Ritandi task force as the attorney general’s assistant, the politically ambitious lawyer had tried to push the case forward at every turn, whether they had enough evidence or not. When Mario Calafano had been arrested, Barly was the only one who’d balked against making a deal with the bookkeeper, insisting instead on sending him to trial as a warning to Ritandi.

Ultimately it had been the attorney general’s call to offer a deal and witness protection.

None of which mattered now, though, with the bookkeeper’s execution.

“What are your plans for the witness you do have?”

Ky blew out a breath and swiped his free hand around his neck to massage the tightening muscles. “Her brother-in-law’s in private security. He can keep her under wraps.”

“Not a good idea, Papps. I don’t want any more civilians involved in this.”

“The guy owns his own business, boss. Protection is what he does.”

“I don’t care. You and Winters take care of it. Put her in a secure place and have her guarded. What happened today shouldn’t have been possible. No one was supposed to know where Calafano was being kept. The fact someone did has me wondering if there’s a leak somewhere down the chain.”

Ky rubbed his eyes with the pads of his fingers. “Yeah, I was wondering that as well. Okay. We’ll take care of it.”

He ended the call and went back to a waiting Josh.

“From the look on your face,” Josh said, “I can tell that wasn’t pleasant.”

Ky shook his head. “My superior.” He slid the phone back into his pants pocket. “He wants your sister-in-law secured.”

Josh nodded. “I can do that.”

“No. He doesn’t want any non-agency people involved in this. We’ll be providing her with protection and some place safe to stay until this is resolved. She can’t go back to her condo now, since they know where she lives.”

Josh blew out a breath. “Good luck getting her to agree. Gemma’s not known for taking orders well. You’ll have a fight on your hands for sure.”

“Can’t be helped, Mr. Keane. I’ve got my orders.”

“It’s Josh, and I know. I just want you to be prepared for what she’s going to do when you tell her.”

* * *

“No frigging way!” Gemma jumped up from the bed with a lopsided jerk, causing the IV pole to tumble to the floor. “There’s no way in hell I’m going into hiding.”

Ky reached for the pole and righted it. “I’m afraid there really is no other alternative, Miss Laine. They’ll come after you again, try to find out what you know, what you saw.”

“But I don’t know anything. All I did was take some pictures. That’s it. I don’t even know who the dead men are.”

“Gemma, lower your voice,” Kandy said. “We can all hear you.”

“I’m sorry, Kan, but this is ridiculous.” Gemma crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do I have to go into hiding? I didn’t do anything.”

“It’s for your own safety,” Ky told her.

“Can’t I just go with them?” she asked, pointing to her sister and brother-in-law. “Josh can keep me safe.”

“Think that one through, Miss Laine. You’d be putting them in potential danger as well as yourself. No, we need to put you in a safe house for a few days until this situation is resolved.”

“A few days? I’ve got work to do, photographic commitments to honor. I’m booked for two shoots this week alone. I can’t afford a few days away from all that.”

“Gem, calm down,” Josh said, his voice soft, but firm. “Agent Pappandreos is right. The FBI can do a better job of protecting you than I can. It’s that simple. They have better resources, more manpower.”

“But I don’t trust him.” Gemma pointed a finger at Ky, her voice rising again. “I trust you.”

“I know, kid.” Josh rubbed a hand down her arm. He looked over at his wife, raised his eyebrows.

Kandy nodded. “We’ll take you back to your place and get everything you need,” she told her.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you go back to your apartment,” Ky told Gemma, noting she was now squinting at him, her brow creased, her fury aimed directly at him. “It might still be staked out by whoever did this to you. It’s not safe.”

Before she could protest, Josh said, “Kandy and I will get what you need and bring it all back here. Okay?”

“Do I really have a choice?” Gemma said, dragging her hands through her hair. “This sucks. Big time.”

Silently, Ky agreed.

* * *

An hour later Kandy kissed her goodbye after dropping off Gemma’s overnight bag, the laptop she used for editing her photos, and two of the cameras she’d requested, nestled in their carrying cases.

When Josh leaned in to give her cheek a brotherly peck, he whispered, “Be good. This guy is just trying to keep you safe. Don’t be a pain.”

She narrowed her eyes at him when he pulled back, but didn’t say anything.

Right after they left, Jon Winters came into the cubicle. “It’s all set,” he told Ky. Looking at Gemma he asked, “Are you ready, Miss Laine?”

Without a word, she nodded and grabbed for her bags. Ky reached for them at the same time. When his hand twisted over hers, they both stopped moving. Gemma lifted her gaze up to his and tightened her grip over the suitcase handle. His large palm engulfed her hand and all she could feel was heat flowing from it, warming her, searing her. A strange, unexpected spark fired right through her system, down to her stomach—and lower—causing a quick shudder to blast from deep within. For a moment Gemma forgot to breathe.

“Allow me,” he said, looking down at her. With his lips curving slightly at the corners, he added, “I’ll take this, since I figure you don’t want either one of us to touch your cameras.”

Gemma’s mind stopped working and all she could do was stare at his mouth. The center of his top lip held a small bow that indented and outlined the upper half of his lips. The bottom one was full, and on a woman, it would have been called pouty. On him, though, it was sensual, erotic, and just begging to be kissed.

Gemma couldn’t stop staring at it. For a few seconds her gaze stayed glued to his mouth, forgetting everything else.

“Miss Laine?” he said. “Is something wrong?”

Gemma tore her attention from his sexy lips up to his eyes, where a question filled them.

It was as if she was seeing his eyes, really seeing them, for the first time. As adept as she usually was at describing things, she couldn’t find the words to do justice to the unusual flecks of colors and shades filtering through his irises. The green was so light it appeared crystalline, with a darker rim that mimicked deep moss circling the inner, lighter colors. The lids were heavy-hooded, so even when wide awake and staring straight at her, he gave the impression he was just pulling out of sleep.

Bedroom eyes, Grandma Sophie had called a look like his. Sensual, sexual, and carnal, as if they could look right into your soul and know your deepest, darkest, most erotic secrets.

Gemma realized in that instant she would love nothing more than to commit those eyes to film. But even thinking it, she knew no photograph could ever capture the beauty and the essence of the colors staring back at her.

“Is something wrong?” Ky repeated.

The quizzical expression on his lined brow snapped Gemma out of her thoughts. With a slight shake of her head she glanced down at her hand, his still over it, and said, “No. No. I’ll take the cameras.”

Ky relaxed his grip and let her move hers from the handle of the suitcase. When she let go, he grabbed the bag, lifting it. “Ready?”

Gemma nodded once and picked up the camera cases. “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

* * *

“It’s not the Ritz,” Ky said, “but as safe houses go, it’s not half bad.”

The Ritz it wasn’t. Not even close.

“Your room is at the top of the landing, second door on the right,” Jon told her. “I’ll drop your stuff up there.” He moved up the staircase, her suitcase in his hand.

“Quick lay of the land,” Ky said. “Two floors and the basement. Living room, den, eat-in kitchen, bathroom down here. Three bedrooms upstairs, two baths. You’ll have your own room with an adjoining bathroom.”

“You’ll both be staying here?” Gemma asked.

Ky nodded. “In addition to some of my other men. We’ll take shifts. I still need to coordinate with the rest of my team while we’re here, but for the next day or so the three of us will be together constantly. Hopefully, we can end this whole thing before it drags on too much longer and we can get you back home as soon as possible.”

“Hopefully is the operative word in that statement,” Gemma said.

The frustration in her tone was obvious. She’d been quiet on the drive from Manhattan to Queens, sitting in the backseat, arms folded across her chest, staring out the window with a look of childlike petulance on her face. The few times he’d glanced in the rearview mirror, he could see the barely controlled anger filtering through her eyes. To say she wasn’t happy about the current situation would be a total understatement. This was one pissed off woman. A fine looking one, but furious nonetheless, and Ky couldn’t blame her. Through no fault of her own she’d been thrown into a situation where she’d tried to do the right thing, and it wound up coming back to bite her in the ass.

He knew he wouldn’t be happy, either, if his world was suddenly turned upside down. His only hope was they could quickly find the assassins and her attacker and allow her to go back home, as he’d told her.

“A few house rules,” he said. When she just stared at him, her mouth tight, eyes narrowed, he could feel the irritation sliding off her.

“You can’t use your cell phone to call anyone or check data. It needs to be shut off at all times.”

“No one? Not even the clients I’m being forced to bail on because of this, this—” her hand flailed out and swept the room, eyes blazing.

Ky shook his head. “Cell phones are traceable, as are computers. Since Ritandi knows who you are, I’m sure he’s already had one of his people find out all your basic information. Cell phone number, e-mail address. All the accounts linked to your phone and computer. A digital fingerprint spans a wide berth these days, and it’s easy for a hacker to find you. Too easy.”

“This gets worse by the minute. What am I supposed to do? Just not show up at my client appointments? Do you know what that will do to my professional reputation? I’ll never get another job offer if people think I’m unreliable and capricious about my work commitments.”

“You can use my phone to call your clients and any staff members you have. It’s blocked and untraceable. There’s about fourteen layers of security attached to it. As long as you make the call quick and don’t linger to gossip or chat it should be sufficient.”

The anger barely contained beneath the surface bled out in full force.

“First of all, I work alone. I don’t have any staff or anyone helping me. It’s my name, my business.”

Ky nodded.

“Secondly, and more importantly, I don’t gossip with clients. I’m a professional. I’m there to do a job, a job they’ve hired me for. What am I supposed to tell them when I call to cancel? Sorry, but I can’t photograph you today. I’ve got this little annoyance of a maniac looking for me?”

Ky forced his annoyance down. “You can tell them you’re sick and will call to reschedule when you can.”

“It doesn’t work that way in my world,” she said. Her breathing had quickened, her beautifully sculpted nose flaring with the effort. “If I can’t make my obligations, my clients, my powerful, rich, and unforgiving clients, are going to hire someone else, someone who they can depend on to do the job. My world is one of deadlines. Quick, harsh, you’d-better-meet-them-or-else deadlines. Calling in sick to cancel, whether real or otherwise, is professional suicide.”

Her arms were crossed over her chest again, the corners of her lips pointed down toward her chin.

“Would you prefer to honor those commitments knowing someone, someone who doesn’t hesitate to kill those around him he considers inconvenient, is looking for you? And just say you do go to your scheduled appointments. Forget the danger you’re putting yourself in by doing so. Have you thought about the danger you’re putting your clients in?”

The space between her eyebrows pulled into a thin, tight line.

“What are you talking about?”

“The man who I think ordered these hits today has shown, many times before, that collateral damage means nothing to him.”

“Collateral damage?”

“Yes. In order to get to you, he wouldn’t think twice about having your clients killed as well. He doesn’t leave witnesses behind. Ever.”

Her color blanched and for a moment, Ky thought she’d faint.

“I’m sorry to be so blunt about it,” he said, softening his tone, “but you need to understand the gravity of this situation. Two of my men died today, just for doing their job. I’m sure you wouldn’t want the same fate for your clients.”

“N-no,” she said, her head shaking violently. “No. I wouldn’t.”

Ky nodded. “Then please, just do as I ask. I’m only trying to keep you and everyone else around you safe.”

They stood, silent, each watching the other.

Gemma Laine was a woman used to being in control of her life, not relinquishing that control to anyone. He’d figured that out within five minutes of meeting her. Ky hated the fear and uncertainly he saw in her eyes now, knowing he’d forced her to confront the reality before her.

“How is your knee feeling?” he asked, wanting to divert her thoughts. She’d only been limping a little from the car to the inside of the house, but he knew the emergency room doctor had given her something for the pain before discharging her.

Her delicate shoulders rose once in a careless shrug and she took a deep breath. “It’s tolerable.”

Ky remembered how bruised it had looked when he’d seen her in the x-ray suite. It had already started turning deep purple and green, and he knew from experience the stiffness that accompanied the hurt would be worse in the morning.

“The ER doc gave you something to take with you for the pain, didn’t he?”

“I’d rather just ice it down. I hate taking pills.”

Because he did as well, Ky didn’t push the point. “Do you want to go upstairs and lie down for a while? You’ve had a pretty exhausting day.”

Gemma shook her head and when the fringe of her bangs swished across her smooth skin, Ky felt that sudden, increasingly familiar tightening in his midsection.

“I need to do some work,” she said. “I’ll rest later.”

“Whatever you want,” he said.

Gemma turned and, with care, walked to the stairs, her cameras slung across her shoulder. Ky watched her plod up the steps, her uninjured leg taking most of the weight. He knew her knee was sore, but instinct told him she would never admit it. Another thing he’d learnt about Gemma Laine since meeting her was she was a woman who would never show weakness. To do so was tantamount to an admission of frailty. And frailty was not a word in her vocabulary.

While she made her way up to her room, Ky slipped out of his jacket and laid it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs, then opened the refrigerator and took stock of their provisions. The house was kept well supplied with non-perishables in the event it needed to be used quickly. When he’d been ordered to move Gemma, he’d called one of his men to ensure there was enough to last them for a few days. He hoped they wouldn’t be staying longer.

With his encrypted work laptop on the counter, he booted up the electronic files and pictures of the Calafano murder scene. Once again, he thought Gemma’s photographs were perfect in their detail. When viewed one after the other, they almost looked like a video. The former mob accountant walking down the street, a smug expression on his face, his ample stomach pushing through in front of him one minute, his white shirt drenched with a streaming flow of blood the next. Ky could almost feel the impact the first bullet made when it hit its mark, just from the expression Gemma had captured on Calafano’s face. Lips curled back in what had to be agony, eyes bulging wide with shock, and hands flailing backward to break his fall, his face was a portrait in stunned alarm and terror. The pictures of Ky’s men as they, too, felt the impact of the bullet’s stream were haunting, detailed, and exceptional.

Gemma Laine was a world-class photographer, there was no doubt of it. In the span of a few seconds she had captured an act so heinous and violent that if seen through a normal person’s eyes would have been unbearable. Through her talented ones, though, she’d immortalized the scene.

“Is that my SD card, or did you upload the pictures to your laptop?” Gemma asked from behind him.

He’d been so engrossed with the photographs he hadn’t heard her approach. “I uploaded them,” he told her.

“Do you have my card?”

“No. It’s still being examined.”

She sighed. “I have some really great shots on that card,” she said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “There isn’t any way I can get just those back? Never mind the shooting stuff. I don’t want to lose a whole day’s work, especially since it was really productive.”

It took him a moment to reply. “The FBI IT techs uploaded your pictures onto the main data frame and I did the same with my work laptop. I copied the ones we don’t need to a flash drive. I was going to give it to you later on, after you’d rested for a while.”

For the first time since he’d met her, Gemma smiled. The joy that filtered through it almost knocked him backward. Her entire face changed with just the parting and uplifting of her lips. Ky had thought she was a gorgeous woman without it, but when she looked into his eyes, her own glistening with happiness, he realized just how beautiful she truly was.

“Really?” she asked, wobbling closer to him. “Can I have it now? Please?”

He reached into his pants pocket, took out the flash drive and handed it to her. “Like I said, the kill shots aren’t on this.”

Her hand rolled over the drive, no bigger than a stick of gum, as she held it. Like a lover stroking a mate’s naked flesh, her long fingers twined around and fondled the drive as she spoke to him.

“Do you know…anything?” Gemma asked.

Ky shook his head. “Not yet. The man who attacked you, I believe, is one of the soldiers in the Ritandi mob family.”

“This Ritandi. He’s the one who killed your men today?”

“He didn’t do it personally, but he ordered it. I’m certain.”

Gemma shuddered. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and then crossed them in front of her, the flash drive tight in her grasp. “Curiosity compels me to ask why. But I really don’t want to know.”

Ky nodded. “Believe me, you’re better off not. Just know that we’re doing everything in our power to find the man who attacked you.”

“In addition to this Ritandi guy?”

“Oh, I have a good idea where he is,” Ky said.

“Then why haven’t you arrested him?”

“Knowing where someone is, and proving they did something are two different things.”

Gemma’s lips formed a small O. “I get that. But if you know where he is and you know he’s responsible for what he did today isn’t there some way, some piece of information, that can help you link the two?”

Ky put his hands in his pants pocket. “That’s exactly what my men are trying to do right now.”

Gemma nodded.

“I’m betting you’re a little pissed off you have to sit here and babysit me, because I can guess you’d like nothing more than to be out there on the chase yourself. I know I would be if I were you.”

Ky stared across at her. He shouldn’t have been surprised by her statement. She seemed an astute woman, attuned to what was going on around her.

“Don’t get the wrong impression,” he told her. “I’m not pissed off, to quote you, at being here to keep you safe. It’s part of my job. But I will admit I’d like to be there when we locate the guy who attacked you. Once we know who it is, I’m positive there’ll be a link to Ritandi. One I can use to take him down for good.”

The corners of Gemma’s lips turned up in the slightest of smiles. “Yeah, you’re pissed off. And I can’t say I blame you.”

They stared at one another for a few moments. Neither spoke. Finally Gemma shrugged and said, “Thanks for the flash drive. If I have to be stuck here at least I can do some work.”

At that moment her stomach rumbled loudly. When she laughed and placed her hand, open palmed, across it, Ky didn’t know which was stronger: the jolt that leaped around his heart at the sound of her laughter—low, but so seductive—or the heat that palpated through his lower region as he watched her hand flex and contract against her abdomen. Even though she was fully clothed Ky knew the skin under the material would be soft, tight, and hot.

“Obviously, you’re hungry,” he said.

“Obviously. When all hell broke loose this afternoon at my apartment I was in the process of making something to eat. I’d been working since early this morning and when I got home after being at your offices for over three hours, I realized just how hungry I was.”

Ky didn’t miss the irritation in her words. “We keep this house filled. There’s plenty to eat. What can I make you?”

Her eyes widened with surprise. Ky wasn’t in the habit of cooking for people other than his family or friends. Not that he wouldn’t. The women in his family had seen to his culinary education while he was growing up. Standing in the safe-house kitchen with this incredibly desirable woman, Ky realized he not only wanted to cook for her but he wanted to make something that would be satisfying both nutritionally and emotionally.

“You don’t have to cook for me,” Gemma said. “I’m a big girl. I’m used to fending for myself.” Her lips lifted in one of those smiles Ky was starting to want to see on her face all the time. “I couldn’t be Kandy Laine’s sister and not know how to cook, even a little.”

“I just thought, with your knee and all, you wouldn’t want to be hopping around the kitchen. I’m more than willing to whip us up something quick.”

He couldn’t read the look she tossed him.

“If Ky is offering to make dinner, let him,” Jon said as he came into the kitchen. “At least we’ll get something edible.”

With a shrug, she said, “Okay. Mind if I sit here and upload these to my laptop so I can work on them?” She held up the flash drive. “The lighting is better in here than in my room.”

“Not at all.”

“I’ll get your laptop,” Jon said. “You rest that knee.”

When Gemma smiled her thanks, Ky swore the feeling dropping in him wasn’t jealousy. He wanted her to smile at him like that: naturally, and with warmth. So far, she’d scowled at him more than anything else, and although it was tantalizing to see the passion in her anger, he realized he’d like nothing more than to see that emotion revealed in a much more enjoyable way.

“Do you have any food restrictions?” he asked as she sat at the breakfast bar, her injured leg propped up on the stool next to her.

“None.”

With a nod, he set about making a simple dinner for the three of them.

But he never forgot she was in the room.

With a dishtowel tucked into the front of his trousers as a makeshift apron, he got to work. While the chicken breasts browned in olive oil in the pan, she typed away, every now and then exclaiming, or drawing in a breath while she fiddled on her laptop. As the orzo softened, he glanced over his shoulder and saw her unlined brows meeting in the center, those gorgeous blue eyes zeroed in on the screen. Whatever she was looking at had her total and complete concentration as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

“It smells great in here,” Jon said at one point when he came back into the kitchen.

Gemma’s head shot up, a look of puzzlement on her face. “Oh, my God, it does,” she said. “I didn’t even notice.”

“You’ve been pretty engrossed in your work,” Ky said while he dropped a handful of parsley and some lemon wedges into the pan.

“You making YiaYia’s lemon chicken?” Jon asked, settling onto a bar stool next to Gemma.

“YiaYia?” she asked, her gaze ping-ponging between her two protectors.

“My grandmother,” Ky explained.

“She can make shoe leather taste good,” Jon said with a laugh.

Ky filled their plates. “Jon, get drinks.”

“Water okay for you, Miss Laine?”

“Water’s fine, and it’s Gemma.”

He handed her a bottled water from the refrigerator. She uncapped it and waited for Ky to sit with them before eating.

“Oh, good Lord!” she said after the first mouthful went in. “My sister is going to kidnap your grandmother and hold her hostage for this recipe.”

Ky’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth, the pleased grin dying on his lips from her praise when he looked over at her.

Her beautiful eyes were closed, her head thrown slightly back, giving him a full view of her long, smooth neck, as her tongue skimmed from one side of her bottom lip to the other.

“Right?” Jon said, grinning. “The first time Papps ever cooked for me I asked if he had any unmarried sisters at home who cooked as good as he did.”

With an eyebrow tilting up to her hairline, she glanced over at Ky and then back to his partner. “Papps?”

Jon’s grin split his face.

“You’re not the only one,” Ky told her, “who’s had difficulty with my last name.” He forked a helping of chicken into his mouth.

Gemma’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.

“It was our boss who started calling him that,” Jon said. With a good-natured grin, he added, “It stuck.”

“Well, whatever people call you,” Gemma said, addressing Ky, “this is the best meal I’ve had since the last time I visited my sister.”

Before he could thank her, his cell phone pinged.

“Excuse me.” He stood from the bar and moved out of the kitchen when he saw the caller ID.

In the living room across the hallway, Ky punched the connect icon.

“Pappandreos.”

“We got an ID on the attacker,” SAC Tiege barked into the cell.

“One of Ritandi’s guys?”

“Yes. Charlie ‘Little Chico’ Faldo. Low level jackass, but definite ties to our boy.”

“Any idea where he is?”

“Not yet. I’ve got people working on locating him. His rap sheet’s a mile long, but I’m confident he’ll be found. They located the van about an hour ago.”

“Where?”

“Under the Brooklyn Bridge. Empty. Crime Scene Unit’s all over it.”

“How do they know it’s the right van?”

“Descriptions and license plate number your witness gave us matches.”

“I’m surprised it wasn’t torched. CSU won’t find anything.” Ky shook his head, frustration boiling in his chest. “This hit was too well orchestrated and coordinated to leave something as helpful as a fingerprint or any kind of a DNA trail to one of the shooters behind.”

“You never know. The van’s VIN number was eradicated, but I’m guessing it was a chop-shop steal, probably from one of Ritandi’s own. How’s your witness?”

“Pissed,” he said, “but cooperative.”

“How certain are you, Papps, she’s not connected to this, other than as an innocent bystander?”

The question had been rolling around in his head all afternoon. Her explanation for being on the street at just the time Calafano was executed seemed coincidental. But if there was one thing Ky had learned over his years at the bureau, it was to dissect and inspect everything, whether it seemed plausible or not.

“I wouldn’t say certain, but I really can’t see any other scenario that would put her on that street today other than the one she’s given us.”

There was a moment of silence and Ky wondered if his boss knew something he didn’t about Gemma Laine.

“I agree,” he said at last, one tired sounding breath wafting through the phone. “Listen, I’ve got a meeting to brief the director and the attorney general, so I’ve got to go. I’ll call again if CSU finds anything or if Faldo turns up.”

“Appreciate it, boss.”

Ky shot his phone back into his pants pockets, pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes.

Calafano’s execution shouldn’t have happened. He’d had two of his best, most experienced agents assigned to the bookkeeper for two months, ever since the man had been convinced turning over evidence and being put in witness protection was a better option than spending the rest of his life behind bars where one of Ritandi’s men would have easy access to him.

His men knew—knew—they weren’t supposed to leave the hotel for any reason. Ky had ordered them repeatedly to stay put. All they needed to do was keep him safe for one more week until the attorney general could file charges against Ritandi.

One week. And now, because his agents had disobeyed a direct order, they and the bookkeeper were dead.

Why had they left the hotel?

Today’s events had all but destroyed three years of work, gathering information that would lead to the arrest of mob boss Antonio Ritandi for money laundering, tax fraud, and extortion.

Three years of endless wiretaps, surveillance, and subpoenas that had yielded nothing substantial until Mario Calafano made one small slip up with a bank deposit transaction, and Ky and his partner had roped him in.

A sudden thought danced around his head but was quickly killed when the sound of Gemma’s laughter pulled him like a magnet back into the kitchen.

The smile he’d seen for the first time just minutes before was now broad, free, and lit with mischief. The throaty laugh, lusty and filled with enough just-woken rasp to make his pulse bounce filled the small kitchen at something his partner was telling her.

“That can’t be true,” she said, grinning at Jon. She’d nestled her head against the palm of her hand, her elbow propped on the table.

They’d finished their dinners while his had sat, uneaten.

Jon, ever the fervent storyteller, swiped his index finger across his chest. “Swear to God, it is.”

At that moment, Gemma’s smiling gaze found his across the room.

It should be illegal to have eyes that blue. Ky had to willfully hold himself back from saying it out loud.

“What story are you spinning, partner?” Ky came into the room after he was able to check his thoughts.

With a sly wink to Gemma first, Jon said, “No spin, just facts, Ky. I was telling Miss Laine—”

“Gemma,” she corrected.

“Gemma.” Jon nodded. “About the first time I met your family.”

With an inward groan, Ky shook his head and brought his plate to the microwave. “I’d rather forget that,” he said, timing the appliance to reheat his food.

“It sounds like you would,” Gemma said, a wry little line dancing across her lips.

As much as Ky loved his large, boisterous, and utterly lovable family, they could be trying on his soul, especially his six older brothers, who never missed a chance to embarrass their baby brother.

“I’ve got older sisters,” Gemma said, lifting her water bottle. “I know what it’s like.”

“I have to think the torture a brother employs is different from a sister’s,” Ky said over his shoulder.

She considered it while she took a mouthful of her water and he brought his reheated dish back to the table.

“Maybe,” she said. “Brothers will probably be more physically exacting while sisters are more like emotional hit men, getting inside your head, niggling, and torturing you to death.”

In the next breath, she sat her water bottle down on the table with a plop, her face going gray.

“Are you okay?” Ky asked. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but knew it wouldn’t be wise.

“Sorry.” The vigorous shake she gave her head tossed her hair to and fro. “That was a poor choice of words after what happened today.”

The trio was silent for a few moments.

“It’s getting late,” Gemma said. Ky was quick to notice the smile she’d had moments before was now just a memory.

“Don’t worry about the dishes,” Jon told her when she started to bring hers to the sink. “Ky and I have a system. Cleanup’s my job.”

She nodded and grabbed her laptop.

“Everything you’ll need should be in the closet in your room,” Ky said. “Towels, fresh linens. Just let me know if there’s anything you might want that your sister didn’t pack.”

“It’s fine,” she told him. “I’ve got all I really need.”

Before quitting to her room she turned to them. “I—well.”

Both men allowed her a moment to collect her thoughts.

“I just wanted to thank you. Both. I know being stuck here with me is the last thing you want to be doing about now, and believe me, if I could undo what happened today, I would.”

“Don’t worry about any of that,” Jon said.

“It shouldn’t take long to find the men responsible,” Ky added. “And we’ll get the man who hurt you.”

She looked from one of them to the other, her gaze coming to rest on Ky. “I have no doubt about that.”