The smell of Nonnie’s scallopini quickly derailed Ferris’s curiosity about the spat between me and Rico. Either that, or he decided I’d fill him in on whatever he needed to know. Smart cookie, that Ferris.
“Something smells good,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re domestic, Nighthawk. That would completely shatter my image of you.”
“Not a chance. Nonnie’s the chef,” I said, pointing to my chief cook and bottle washer, as she rounded the kitchen corner.
“Ah! You like? You must be Ferris. I, Nonnie Nussbaum,” she said, grabbing both his hands. “Miss Allie’s assistant. I cook the scallopini. Dinner almost ready.”
Assistant? Suddenly, she had a title.
Ferris took a deep sniff and sighed. “Smells amazing, Mrs. Nussbaum. Can’t wait.”
Nonnie, head held high, strutted back into the kitchen and shooed Leo out from under her feet, into the living room with Ferris and me.
Still smarting from my spat with Rico, I let the two of them chatter on about finance, while I sulked in the corner.
“You’re a young guy,” I heard Leo say. “Don’t be afraid of global funds. They’ll pay off over time.”
My mind began to drift. And damned if the brain bitch didn’t hijack the opportunity to harangue me.
Rico’s a damn good partner. He’d never put Leo at risk. What were you thinking?
Although no one would have ever guessed it, I was capable of being a bit…rash…sometimes. Was it possible that Jade was a better reporter than I gave her credit for? Could she have gotten plum lucky and stumbled into this mess, all on her lonesome?
In the end, it didn’t matter. I knew inside that Rico hadn’t breached confidentiality, just like I knew it would be my responsibility to keep Jade’s surgically-altered, upturned nose out of harm’s way. Refusing to help her with the exposé had been the right move.
I relaxed a bit during dinner as the mood lightened. And when Leo asked Ferris about his background, his answer intrigued me.
“Mostly military,” he said. “I did a couple of tours in Afghanistan, explosive ordnance detail. Got recruited by the FBI, not long after I came home. That’s been five years, now.”
I pictured Ferris’s sandy hair, caked with mud, steely blue eyes peering out from above several day’s growth, his six-foot-four frame decked out in combat fatigues, massive football player hands, strong but dexterous. What would they feel like on my...
“Isn’t that right, Nighthawk?” Leo asked.
“Sorry. What?”
Leo shoved the last forkful of veal into his mouth. “I was telling Ferris here, you and De Palma, you’re like oil and vinegar. Polar opposites. It’s a wonder one of you ain’t dead yet.”
“We’ve kept you alive so far, haven’t we?” I said, carrying my plate to the sink.
Ferris pushed his chair back and followed me. “I’ll do the dishes, Mrs. Nussbaum, and Miss Allie here will help me. Sit down and relax.”
The guy was bucking for sainthood. Nonnie and Leo kibitzed in the living room, while Ferris washed and I, shamed into action, dried.
Ferris’s blue eyes twinkled as he sidled up alongside me. “I’m not much for doing dishes, but I was running out of ways to get you alone, Miss Allie.”
Something that resembled a giggle bubbled inside me. I squelched it before it escaped. He might have been tall, blonde and ripped, but that didn’t give him the right to mess with me.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” I asked.
“The National Law Enforcement Training Center. Hand-to-hand combat training. Two, no, three years ago.”
“Impressive.”
“I thought you were. But I would have laid bank you didn’t notice me. You were all business.”
“Oh, I noticed you.”
“Yeah? Is that good or bad?”
I turned away, red-faced, trying to hide a smile. “Just wash the dishes.”
He scrubbed a plate, dunked it into the rinse water, and then held me captive with his baby blues. “Seriously, Allie. You were amazing. You didn’t have military training, you weren’t a Fed, or even an officer. You were a freakin’ zombie hunter, with some hella impressive skills. The way you wiped the floor with the instructor, when he thought he had you dead to rights. How hot was that? I will never forget the look on his face. Five years with the FBI and pulling this detail…I gotta say, it’s the first time I’ve actually looked forward to babysitting a witness.”
Even Little Allie was speechless.
I grabbed for the plate he’d been washing. Our fingers touched. He didn’t pull away, and neither did I.
“Okay, Ferris, I’m calling rank on the plate.”
“Call me, Sean,” he said, smiling as he released the plate.
“Other officers call you Ferris,” I said, drying.
“They aren’t as pretty as you.”
I laughed. “They damn sure aren’t as pretty as you, either.” Him and his impossibly blue eyes. “You can call me Allie. Sometimes. If you use it judiciously. And not in public.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grinned. “I like the name Allie. It suits you. It’s tough, like you, but it’s also…fun.”
Was he liking me, as much as I was liking him, right now? Or was this all in my imagination? Was he just a nice guy, who was trying to find common ground with the person he was assigned to spend a shitload of time with? Or was he feeling the same sparks I was?
I could feel him leaning toward me, just slightly. It made me wonder if he was about to tell me one whopper of a secret, or if the potential for more…maybe even something like a kiss…was lurking just around the corner…
Headbutt snapped to attention, peaked his ears, and uttered a low growl, ruining the moment.
Seconds later, the doorbell rang. Director Dickhead stood on the other side of the peephole. So much for sparks.
I opened the door, and he barged past me into the house. Headbutt, apparently unhappy with the Director’s alpha behavior, barked, promptly hiked his leg, and doused the Director’s shoe.
Ferris, sporting one hell of a poker face, pretended not to notice and moved beside me.
“Jesus,” Dickhead said, shaking his foot. “Teach that dog some manners.”
“Sorry, Director.” I took Headbutt by his collar. “Come on in. We’re just finishing up dinner.”
Nonnie offered the Director some scallopini, but he declined.
He crossed the room and introduced himself to Leo. The only other time they’d seen each other, Leo was being carried out of the warehouse on a gurney, semi-comatose.
“You folks carry on with your evening,” Dickhead said, nodding at Nonnie and me. “I’d like to talk to Agent Ferris for a bit. He’ll be right back.”
When the Director ushered Ferris out the door, Nonnie moved to start a new pot of coffee. For the first time that day, Leo and I had a few minutes alone together.
I plopped beside him on the couch, with an agenda of my own. “Something’s been gnawing at me for a while now, Leo.”
He cocked an eyebrow and waited for me to continue.
“When you turned yourself in, you gave over the mob’s books, right?”
Leo nodded once, eyeing me, no doubt wondering where this conversation was going.
“Smart guys always have a second set of books. You know—the dummy books to protect their clientele. And the real books. And the really smart guys, like you, keep a third set. Maybe a duplicate of the books you turned in.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Leo, where’s your set of the books?”
He squirmed. “I don’t have any books. I turned them in. Why the hell would I keep a set? What would I use them for?”
“You tell me. Insurance, maybe?”
“Honest. I swear. I don’t got any books.”
I let out a sigh. “’Fess up, Buddy. There’s been a trail of zushi a mile wide, following you ever since you got here. The Mob’s after you because of what’s in those books. Somehow, some way, whatever is in them has to be connected to the zombie influx.”
I paused, giving him time to reconsider, but his stony stare signaled we were at an impasse. Time for a different angle.
“Leo, has it ever occurred to you that your being bitten wasn’t some random, cosmic joke? That maybe you were targeted? If I can look at the books, maybe I can figure this whole mess out.”
Leo’s eyes turned dark. “I told you, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Cosmic joke? You might consider me getting bit a joke, but I sure as hell don’t. For the last time, I don’t have any damn books. Period. Now let it drop or I’m going to bed.”
I had no doubt that Leo could lie with the best of them. And I was sure he was lying to me. But why? Was he protecting someone?
Short of beating it out of him, my only option was to try to get him to open up. But that would come another day. His drawn face and bloodshot eyes told me he’d had enough. I changed the subject and turned on the TV.
“Guess what I taped last night?” I said. “Dancing with the Stars. I’ve taped every episode this season. I never know when I’ll get the chance to sit down and watch it.”
As we settled back on the couch, Ferris returned alone from his conversation with Dickhead, and Nonnie carried in the fresh pot of coffee.
She kissed Leo on the cheek. “Is beauty parlor night. Wash and set,” she said, primping her blue-tinged hair. “Buonanotte, Leo.”
He smiled and kissed the back of her hand. “Grazie, signora dolce.”
I watched her walk across the yard, and then turned to Ferris and asked, “What did Dickhead want?”
“Micromanaging. Making sure I was here and that Leo was secure. He also told me that my replacement at midnight is Andy Capple.” Ferris chuckled. “Andy’s one of the old guard. He’ll enjoy Nonnie’s cooking, just don’t count on him hopping over any fences to chase bad guys.”
Sedentary security, courtesy of Dickhead. I might have known.
Ferris flopped beside me on the couch and sat quietly, while Leo and I, catty bastards that we were, took potshots at the Dancing With the Stars judges.
“That Len,” Leo said, waving off the TV. “He’s so full of shit. Gives no points for originality.”
Leo sat up straight and tilted his nose in the air, mimicking Goodman. “‘With all that gyrating, I didn’t see the basic steps. You’ve got to include the basic steps.’ Ah, blow me, you old fart. Get out of the forties.” Leo’s eyes lit up as he leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Nighthawk, one of these nights, I’m gonna take you dancing. Show you how it’s really done.”
I damn near spit out my coffee.
“Thanks for the invite,” I said, looking down at the steel-toed, zombie-stompers on my feet, “But I don’t even own a pair of heels, let alone dancing shoes. Me doing the paso doble in these clodhoppers? There’s a disturbing visual.”
Ferris busted his gut laughing.
Leo harrumphed and rolled his eyes. “Slacker. How you ever gonna learn ballroom, without dancing shoes? You lack commitment, Nighthawk. That’s the problem.”
By ten o’clock, the stars were finished hoofing it. Leo looked relaxed and content, but tired. He plodded down the hallway to go to sleep, leaving me and Ferris to pass the time alone.
Not much of a small talker, I wasn’t sure how comfortable I’d be, waiting for the minutes to pass until the changing of the guard at midnight. Something else to look forward to. Another stranger in my house.
But Ferris seemed at ease, and chatted like we’d known each other forever. We fell into an easy rhythm, complete with natural breaks in our conversation that didn’t need to be filled. We were…sympatico. That boded well.
I asked him what it was like working bomb disposal and before he could answer, the doorbell rang again.
What the hell? It was after eleven o’clock.
Ferris pulled his gun and peeked out, from behind the blinds on the living room window. “It’s De Palma. And he’s with that news chick from Channel Ten.”
“Yeah. They’re…dating.” The last word scratched like sandpaper on the way out.
I opened the door, loaded for bear, thinking Jade had returned to take me on for round two of the exposé argument. But one look at them told me this wasn’t a social call.
Rico’s face and shirt were bloody. Jade’s dress, wet and torn, clung to her legs, and her long black hair hung in tangled strands down her back.
“Lock the door behind us. We’ve got a situation,” Rico announced, as he hustled Jade inside. “We were leaving Fountain Square, and a couple of biters popped out from between parked cars.”
He stared at me incredulously. “Nighthawk, they came right at me. They actually plowed through a group of people to get to me. People scrambled through the street, pushing and shoving, trying to get away. Absolute chaos.”
“I got knocked into the fountain,” Jade whined. “Look at my dress.”
“Wow. What a shame,” I deadpanned.
“Let me grab you a towel,” Ferris said, shooting me a disapproving grin, as he headed toward the bathroom.
Rico wiped his face with his hand and it came away bloody. “The bastards caught me by surprise. One of them knocked me flat and I smacked my eye into somebody’s side view mirror on the way down. I pulled my backup piece from my ankle holster and nailed them both, before they could do any real damage.”
My heart went into overdrive. “You’re sure? No bites, no scratches?”
He walked to my freezer, pulled out a bag of frozen corn and held it to his eye. “No. I’m fine. But this shit’s getting real, fast.”
Rico was right. Things were escalating, but whoever was pulling the strings knew Rico could handle a couple of rotters. If the bastard had wanted Rico dead, he would have killed him. This had all the markings of a warning shot over the bow. My bow.
Fine, then, I thought. Come and get me, asshole. I’m right here.
Ferris returned with a bath towel and handed it to Jade. The pretty little princess dried herself off, shaking and sniffling, like the world’s biggest wussy.
Little Allie couldn’t have shut my mouth with super glue.
“So, Jade,” I said with a smirk. “How good’s that biter exposé looking now?”
She fixed me with a smoldering stare. “I’m more determined than ever. Just try to stop me.”
Damned if that chick wasn’t a freaking albatross around my neck.