“A reward for turning my brother in to people who want him dead?”
Smith gave him a long look, then reached slowly into his breast pocket and removed a silver card case. “The Mulroneys’ reward is bigger than ours,” he said as he slid a card out, then laid it on the counter between them. “But we, at least, can guarantee that we’re not going to kill him.”
Joe stared at the card but didn’t pick it up. Engraved on the left side was the Department of Justice seal and on the other was contact information: Thomas P. Smith, U.S. Attorney’s Office, Chicago, Illinois.
“We’re pretty well-dressed thugs, too, Mr. Saldana,” Smith said with a thin smile. “Or so your brother said.”
Heat warmed Joe’s cheeks-from standing too close to the coffee machines, of course. He turned away, fixed himself a cup of ice water and took a long drink before facing Smith again. “I haven’t had any contact with him since the shooting. He doesn’t even know where I am.”
“We need him at the trial, Mr. Saldana. The government has put a lot into this case and we don’t want to lose it because of him. We want to find him before the Mulroneys do.”
“If you can’t find him, how could they?”
Smith managed what Joe suspected was, for him, a smile, and his voice turned very dry. “They have resources we don’t.”
Joe left the card where it lay. “If you share any resources with them, tell them to stay the hell away from my parents and me. We won’t help them and can’t help you.”
“If they find Josh first, they will kill him.”
“Then maybe he’ll have the good sense to stay lost.” But even as he said it, Joe knew it wasn’t likely. Josh had a bad habit of relying on family and friends. He was willing to take care of himself for only so long, and the two months since he’d left Liz had already exceeded that limit. He was probably looking for Joe and their parents, and Liz, and the woman he’d dated before her, and the woman before
“If your brother lacks one thing in great abundance, it’s sense.” Smith finished the tea, then set the mug on the counter. “My cell number’s on the back of that card. If you change your mind-” Breaking off at Joe’s scowl, he rephrased. “If you hear from Josh, let me know. We can protect him.”
“Not from himself,” Joe muttered. And hadn’t Josh always been his own worst enemy?
Smith walked to the door before turning back. “Good tea. The cinnamon and cardamom were just right.”
“I’ll tell my taste tester.” Ellie would be pleased, but she was used to compliments on her taste. It was what made her restaurant one of the most popular in town.
As Smith got into a black rental, the bell rang again and Natalia stopped in the doorway. “Can we come in?” Twisting around her ankles on leashes were the hellhounds, both straining to venture farther inside. A new place with new smells and all new things to pee on.
“I think health department regulations prohibit it, and I’m sure my own rules do. But I’ll come out.” Sliding the business card from the stainless steel counter, he crossed the dining room in a few strides and stepped out into muggy warmth and an excited, eight-legged greeting.
Natalia untangled long enough to hand him one leash, then sat on the bench a few feet away. The striped awning overhead protected it from too much sun and the worst of the rain when it came, and it had an unobstructed view of the cars driving by. There was no sign of Tom Smith’s black rental.
Or Liz’s red one.
“Are you going to name these guys?” Natalia asked as the fuzzy one jumped onto the bench between them, rolled onto his back and splayed all four legs in the air with a noticeable lack of dignity while she dutifully scratched his belly. The female was too busy sniffing every inch of Joe to notice.
“They don’t respond to anything I call them.”
“‘Bad dog’ and ‘devil dog’ don’t count. They need proper names.”
“How about Goldie and Brownie?”
Natalia rolled her eyes. This morning they were violet. “Would you answer to Blondie?”
“For the right person,” he retorted, and an image of Liz popped into his mind. Damn it.
“How about Bear for this one?” Natalia gazed down at the fuzzy pup with more affection than she’d shown even Joe, and he was her best-maybe only-friend in town. “My mom used to sing a rhyme when I was little: ‘Fuzzy wuzzy was a bear. Fuzzy wuzzy had no hair…’” Her voice grew softer with each word until it trailed away, as if the memory were so burdened with emotion that she could no longer sustain it. It was, Joe realized, the first truly personal thing she’d ever told him.
He swallowed the curiosity, and the lump in his throat, and the urge to wrap his arm around her, the way he used to do with his younger girl cousins when they were kids. “Okay. Bear it is. So can I still call this one Bad Dog?”
Natalia continued to stare off into the distance for a moment, then drew herself together. She shook her head, straightened her shoulders and erased the emotion from her eyes. “No, you can’t. She’s very regal. You could call her Princess.”
“Or Queen Bitch.”
“Naming a pet is like naming a child. You have to choose a name you won’t be embarrassed to yell out the door.”
“I wouldn’t be embarrassed yelling Bad Dog or Queen Bitch,” he grumbled. “Neither would she. She’s probably proud of being both.”
The female ran to sniff a piece of trash that had blown against the curb, and Joe reeled her back in, winning in spite of her valiant effort to resist. Immediately, she turned, her nose quivering, and locked in on the business card he was tapping against his thigh.
Natalia’s gaze zeroed in on it, too. “U.S. Attorney’s office?” She stared at him. “Are you in trouble?”
He tilted his head to mimic her position. “How can you read that from there? Or have you seen so many U.S. Attorney’s office business cards that you recognize them on sight?”
“My distance vision is very good. Are you in trouble?” she repeated.
If he avoided answering again, she would let him, but she was his best-though not only-friend in town, so he responded. “Not me, but someone I know.”
“Your brother?”
“Yeah.” He’d told her he had a brother in one of those early getting-acquainted conversations, but that had been the extent of it. He hadn’t wanted to even think about Josh-about the hostility and the anger and the bitterness and the disappointment-much less talk about him. She’d had the same reaction to discussing her family: mother, father, two sisters, hadn’t seen them in ages. He hadn’t pressed, and neither had she.
“Is he in jail?”
“Not that I know of.” Not yet.
“Where does he live?”
“Don’t know that either.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“It’s been a while.” He shot her a look. “Any more questions and you’re gonna have to answer the same about your sisters.”
That shut her up. She nudged the newly named Bear to the ground, then took the brown dog’s leash from him. “We’re going to head back home. I don’t want to wind up carrying Bear the last block like I did last night.”
Teasing her would be too easy, especially when she was serious, so Joe settled for shaking his head. He watched until they turned the corner before chuckling at the image of the fuzzy puppy cradled in Natalia’s arms while the female darted and sniffed until she quivered.
“You’re in a good mood.”
Deliberately he lowered his gaze as he turned his head to the right, seeing sidewalk, that bit of trash and a set of delicate feet with dark red-tipped toes. A vee of tan leather was anchored between the first and second toes, thin, intricately knotted as it stretched back to encircle slender ankles. A coral silk flower sat on the outside strap, just below the ankle bone, and the heels rose, lethally tall and thin.
As if the shoes weren’t enough, they led to her legs, longer today, or so it seemed. Fact was, her dress was just so much shorter. Not indecently short, not even modesty-at-risk short. Just enticingly so.
“Moods can change.” He finally managed to slide his gaze up over the snug-fitting dress that matched the silk flowers to her face. Her hair was down today, curls skewing in every direction. One fell across her forehead, and for an instant the temptation to brush it back was so strong that he actually lifted his hand to do so.
Silently swearing, he clenched his fist, and Tom Smith’s business card crumpled inside it. He surged to his feet, scooped up the trash from the curb, then reached the shop door in two steps.
“Don’t hurry off on my account.”
“This isn’t hurrying. It’s me getting back to work.”
She made a show of peering through the glass. “I don’t see any customers.”
He had the door open. All he had to do was walk through and let it close. Maybe she would follow, maybe she wouldn’t. He didn’t have to look at her again and he damn sure didn’t have to say anything else. But he held the door open and he did both.
“Why don’t you be the next one, then?”
Chapter 4
Liz would bet that piece of paper had blown at least a block. Cars had driven over it, people had stepped on it, but only Joe had bothered to pick it up and put it in the trash.
Switching her shoulder bag to her other arm, she reached for the door he held open, then followed him inside. The purse was smaller than she normally carried, but her GLOCK didn’t fit inside just any old bag. She ordered a frozen hazelnut coffee blend with extra whipped cream as she slipped her debit card from the pocket next to the.45.
Joe waved the card away, but she insisted. “If you want to make me coffee at home for free, I’ll accept, but not here.”
“Consider it a sample.”
“I’ve already had a sample and I liked it,” she pointed out, and just that quickly, the air turned hot and heavy. She was in sorry shape when a truly innocent comment could raise her blood pressure and her core temperature into the danger zone.
