Authors: Penny McCall
“Those same people decided I wasn’t worth having around a few years back,” Daniel reminded him. “I made a new life for myself, and they’re not taking it away from me.”
“You still work for the government, Pierce—”
Daniel snapped the phone shut, clipped it back on his belt, and turned to Vivi. “We’re on our own,” he said, ignoring his phone when it started buzzing at his waist. “We can’t trust the FBI or the Boston P.D.”
“At least they’re not trying to kill you.”
“They want to end my life, which amounts to the same thing.”
“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to go in. You can lie low, take your time going over your cases, and they’ll help you figure out who’s after you.”
“I thought I had help.”
“Not professional help. Not the kind of help that shoots guns.”
“That kind of help tends to find permanent solutions to things, including the people with the answers.”
She went silent for a minute, her eyes on his. “You’re hoping to catch one of the hit men and find out who they work for.”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“And you think I’m crazy.”
“You must be rubbing off on me.”
They both went still, keeping their gazes off each other so they didn’t have to acknowledge the “rubbing” comment and notice there was a bed conveniently handy.
“The odds of getting my hands on Hatch or Flip aren’t very good anyway,” Daniel said. “It’s not like I can sit around waiting for them to show up.”
“Even if they show up, your odds aren’t very good,” Vivi pointed out. “When they show up there’s usually gunfire involved. The only way your hands are getting anywhere near them is if they’re checking to see if you still have a pulse.”
“So it’s not a perfect solution. I’ve got a backup plan.” He pulled the laptop out of his duffel and took it to the worn linoleum-covered dinette table. He powered it up, taking a legal pad for himself and putting one in front of the chair beside him. “We’ll have to write fast,” he said by way of invitation. “As soon as Mike tells the District office I refused to come in, they’ll yank my ID. If I know Mike, he’ll give me some time, but it won’t be much, considering I pissed him off when I hung up on him.”
Vivi stayed where she was, looking kind of shell-shocked and sick to her stomach. “You’re going to list off your files, is that what you’re telling me?”
“Before I lose my access.” He nudged the pad closer to the empty chair. “Then you can do your thing.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
He stared at her, trying hard not to portray any level of kidding.
“I’m not Stephen King’s version of a psychic,” she said. “I didn’t come out of a five-year coma with the ability to get movie-style visions on command.”
“Huh?”
“
The Dead Zone
? Never mind. I can’t tell you anything from a list of names we wrote down ten minutes ago.”
“But I thought—”
“I need the files, mug shots, something the guilty party might have handled, at the very least.”
“So that thing you did at the market?”
“I get my best readings from people. Living, breathing people.”
Daniel pulled out his cell phone and tapped into his wireless Internet connection. “You need people,” he said, “let’s find you some people. They might even still be breathing.”
“SO . . . WHERE DO YOU WANT TO START?” VIVI ASKED, looking over at Daniel.
They’d been shoulder to shoulder, writing feverishly for the last thirty minutes. They’d managed to access most of Daniel’s case files before the District office pulled the plug on him. And now that they weren’t otherwise occupied, Daniel had plenty of time to notice how close Vivi was. And react to it.
He seized on the first name on his list so he didn’t think about the nice, convenient mattress right across the room. “George Washington.”
“Not breathing,” she said absently, her eyes on his mouth.
Daniel stood up and stepped off. It felt like he was walking through quicksand. Or regret. “George Washington is still breathing—at least this one is. I prosecuted him for kidnapping. He snatched his stepdaughter and headed for Florida. Made it to Baltimore before he was caught.”
“George is a disgrace to his namesake, but do you think he’s the kind of guy who could hire hit men from jail?”
“Putting someone in prison doesn’t end their ability to act in the outside world. Just like not putting them in jail doesn’t guarantee they’re not holding a grudge.”
He’d staked his reputation on those he prosecuted being guilty, and just because they’d slipped past the reach of justice didn’t mean there’d been no consequences. “Being accused of and prosecuted for a federal crime is no small thing. Even if the verdict is for acquittal, there’s loss of face, loss of employment, divorce, any number of repercussions. And we’re talking about people who only know one way of dealing with someone who’s pissed them off.”
“Okay, so we can’t rule out any cases, won or lost. Take Anthony Sappresi, he seems like the kind of man who’d put out a contract hit on a federal prosecutor.”
“What do you know about him?” Daniel said, watching her face.
“That he’s your only active case at the moment,” she said, not giving anything away.
“I already talked to him. He denied any involvement.”
“And you believe him? He’s the only one on this list who makes any sense.”
“Do you know everyone on that list?”
“Well, no, but—”
“I thought you couldn’t get anything helpful from a bunch of names.”
“I’m not a crystal ball,” she shot back, “I’ve got a brain, and it’s telling me George Washington is a waste of time. A guy who preys on innocent little girls—”
“She went with him willingly. It was only illegal because she was fifteen and he took her across state lines.”
“I’m not going to argue semantics with you,” Vivi said. “My point is this: Does George have the kind of the connections it takes to put out a contract, or the kind of money to hire hit men?”
The obvious answer was no, but there was no way in hell Daniel was going to give her that satisfaction. Digging his heels in might be childish, not to mention foolishly dangerous for them both, but she’d pissed him off. Again. “I’m not looking at Sappresi. He’s a lot of things, but it would take a complete moron to have the U.S. attorney prosecuting his case murdered. He’d be the obvious suspect.”
“Maybe somebody is trying to frame him.”
“That makes him the fall guy, not the perpetrator.”
Vivi frowned, gnawing on her lower lip. “How about that man, the reporter at Cohan’s?”
“Rudy Manetti? Tony wouldn’t let him do anything stupid.”
“Maybe Tony doesn’t know he’s planning something stupid.”
Daniel wanted to shoot that idea down, but she had a point, and it was one he couldn’t overlook.
“And how about Joe Flynn?” she asked before he had to admit as much.
“As long as I send Tony Sappresi to jail, Joe will be happy with me. He’s hoping to unite the Irish families and move into the crime void Tony leaves behind.”
“Won’t the Italians have a problem with that?”
“Yeah, but I don’t see how either faction would benefit from getting rid of me.”
“Unless one of them has someone else in mind for your job. Someone . . . friendlier.”
“Assistant U.S. attorneys are hired by the U.S. attorney, who is appointed by the president.”
“You’ve never heard of bribery?”
“It would take a lot of money.”
“Yeah. The kind of money available to the Italian Mafia or the Irish mob.”
His first inclination was to deny the whole scenario; it just didn’t make any sense for either Tony or Joe to put him up for a hit. They had a hell of a lot more to lose than they had to gain. But Vivi seemed so concerned, and she hadn’t steered him wrong yet.
He paced across the room, torn between what he knew and how much trust he could put in Vivi’s opinion . . . “Do you know any of this for a fact, or are you just spitballing from what you heard at Cohan’s the night Patrice was shot?”
She took a breath, let it out. “I guess it’s more that I know their reputations and I’m trying to make sure you’ve considered all the angles.”
Daniel studied her for a minute, but if she’d been pulling out all the stops she’d have fallen back on her psychic ability to help convince him. Instead, she’d told him how she felt, she’d admitted it was only an opinion, and he had to respect her for that. He didn’t have to agree with her, but he owed her the truth in return.
“I don’t think looking at Sappresi again will gain me anything, and Joe Flynn is out, too. But you have a point about Rudy.”
Vivi wasn’t one hundred percent satisfied with his decision, but she accepted it.
“We can’t do anything about Rudy tonight, so let’s go over the list again. We’ll look at the wins first, see if there’s someone who might be connected enough to put out a contract on me.”
He sat again—opposite Vivi—and pulled the legal pad over to him, writing a
W
or
L
next to each name.
Vivi came around the table and leaned over to watch him, giving a soft snort before he’d made it halfway through. “And you were questioning my stats,” she said.
“These are high-profile criminals, and they can afford high-powered defense attorneys, the best in the business.” And he was being defensive. “Yeah, my batting average isn’t the best.”
“If you were playing baseball, they’d ship you back to the minors.”
It might come to that. If he didn’t die first. Daniel took to his feet to walk off the frustration of . . . everything. Of course Vivi couldn’t let it go.
“You know what your problem is, don’t you?” she asked him. “You’re color blind.”
“What?”
“You know your cases inside out, you never skimp on the research or preparation, and the people you’re prosecuting are nearly always guilty. But you don’t see shades of gray. You only see black and white. It’s not the best personality trait for a lawyer.”
“Get out of my head, Mr. Spock.”
“Dr. Spock was a psychologist, not a psychic.”
“Not Dr., Mr.” And when she only looked puzzled, he added, “
Star Trek.
”
“Oh my God,” she said with a laugh, “you’re a Trekkie?”
“Every teenaged boy is a Trekkie,” he said irritably. “Except maybe Flip.”
“So you’re saying you’re more comfortable with aliens from another planet than earthlings with special talents.”
“I’m saying I think you’re from another planet.”
“Don’t you mean a galaxy far, far away?”
“That’s
Star Wars.
”
“Just checking,” she said, still grinning.
“If you’re done giving me career advice—”
“It’s coming to me, it’s coming—Wait . . .” she said, undaunted by the fact that he’d stomped back across the room and was looming over her. She closed her eyes and put two fingers to each temple. “You’re going to run for the Senate, and you’ll be elected! Yes, and you’ll grow frustrated with the deal making and the graft and the inaction until one day you’ll go onto the Senate floor, packing, and take out some of the more useless politicians.”
“That would be pretty much all of them.”
She turned her laughing, teasing face up to his and said, “You’re a man of action.”
She was damn right was all Daniel could think, hauling her to her feet and against him, and taking her mouth. Or trying to. Vivi wasn’t a woman to be taken. She wrapped herself around him, one hand creeping up to fist in his hair. It stung a little. He liked it. Making love with Vivi ought to include a little pain, otherwise he could get seriously addicted . . . She dropped her mouth, her hot avid mouth, to his neck, twisted her incredibly built body against his, and he knew it was almost too late.
His hands were still banded around her arms. It took every ounce of willpower, and almost more strength than he had with his muscles shaking with need, to put her at arm’s length. But he did it. He looked into her eyes, the haze of desire just clearing into confusion, and somehow managed not to finish what he’d started.