She kissed him back, and they were making out, McCabe into it, lost in the moment, and she was too, eyes closed, holding him tight. Now she opened her eyes and they were looking at each other, both a little embarrassed. What the hell had just happened? McCabe slid off her and she sat next to him, legs bent under her. "Were you going to shoot me?"
"It isn't loaded," she said, reaching for the shotgun, breaking it open, showing him the empty chambers.
"You looked serious," McCabe said, "like you were going to blow me away."
"That was the idea." She paused, her brown eyes locked on him. "Admit it, now you're wondering if I called Roberto, aren't you?"
"If you did, he'd be here by now," McCabe said.
"I didn't."
"Tell me what's going on, will you? I don't get it."
"I made a mistake," Angela said. "I caused you a lot of trouble, a lot of problems and I feel bad about it."
It sounded sincere, but he wasn't convinced, expected Mazara to come through the door any second. He said, "How'd you get out?"
She smiled. "I am not going to tell you. I might have to do it again."
"I guess there's no point locking you up," McCabe said. "I'm not sure what to do with you. I can't lock you up and I can't trust you."
"Why don't you pour me a glass of wine while you're thinking about it."
Later, in the kitchen, she said, "I was attracted to you the first time I saw you that day at Rosati."
"If you were, I didn't see it."
Angela smiled. "Under the circumstances, I didn't see much future. What you did, getting my bag back, was very heroic. I was wondering what it would be like to go out with you, get to know you."
"Come on," McCabe said, doubting her, although he'd felt the same way.
"It's true," Angela said. "There was something about you."
"Well I couldn't take my eyes off you," McCabe said. "Coming toward me in Piazza del Popolo."
She started to smile and stopped herself. "You said I reminded you of Manuela Arcuri. I don't look anything like her."
"That day you did. Like Manuela in Hearts Lost. Ever see it?" "I don't think so."
"You should." He turned his attention to the bottle of Chianti, cut the foil off the top with a paring knife, and screwed a corkscrew through the center of the cork and pulled. It came out with a pop. He put the bottle on the tile countertop and looked at her. "How'd you know where I was going to get off the bus?"
"Sisto, with the red hair, waited outside the entrance to the school and followed you," Angela said.
"How'd you know I'd go after the two guys on the motorcycle?"
She smiled. "That was completely unexpected. But it worked to my advantage. I didn't have to try to meet you. You did everything, you made it easy."
"What if I didn't go with you?"
"But you did," she said and smiled again.
"I couldn't resist you, huh?"
"You did seem interested."
He flashed back to that day at the enoteca, McCabe taken by her. He would have walked her to Florence if she'd asked, walked her to Venice.
She glanced at the Chianti. "Are you going to pour the wine some time today?"
"Oh, you want some wine?"
He filled two stemmed glasses about a third of the way and handed one to Angela. She took a big gulp. "Take your time," McCabe said. "Don't drink so fast. Sip it, and taste all the things that are going on." Shed said something like that to him at the enoteca and now he was giving it back to her.
She smiled. "Now you are a connoisseur, uh?" She sipped the Chianti and swished it around in her mouth. "How was that?" Angela said. "Did I do it correctly?"
"I think you've got the hang of it," McCabe said.
"I have to tell you. After we collected the money…" She paused. "Sisto said you saw our faces, you would go to the police and identify us. They were talking about killing you."
McCabe said, "And let me guess, you talked them out of it?" Was she telling the truth?
"They were serious," Angela said.
Her face was, too.
"I told Mazara, if they harmed you," Angela said, "I would go to the police myself and turn them in."
"So you saved my life and I should be grateful, is that what you're telling me?"
"Now that you mention it."
"I'll see what I can do." He sipped his wine.
"I like you, McCabe." She came up next to him and held his hands. "I don't want anything to happen to you. But if you continue with this you are going to be hurt or worse." She let go of his hands, stepped back and picked up her wine glass.
"I'll take my chances," McCabe said.
"That's what I expected you to say."
"Why'd you bring it up?"
"I was hoping you would change your mind," Angela said.
"You think I'm going to give up, you don't know me."
Chapter Twenty-three
Joey went up to the door and scanned the names in the directory and saw A. Gennaro, apartment 2b. He pressed the button, but nothing happened. He pressed it again. Still nothing. He tried another apartment, waited and heard the door buzz open. He walked up a narrow staircase that wound around the elevator shaft to the second floor, and knocked on Angela's door, waited and knocked again. He stood there looking at the door painted green with a high-gloss finish. He turned and looked behind him at another apartment across the hall. Just two on the whole floor.
Downstairs, he heard the door to the building open and close, heavy and solid. Heard someone coming up the stairs. Joey walked halfway up to the third floor and waited, listening. He could see the shape of a man through the steel mesh of the elevator shaft, standing in front of Angela's door. Joey started down, and saw him open the door and go in the apartment.
Joey walked down and knocked on Angela's door, waited a couple seconds and it opened. The guy saw him and tried to close it, but he was ready, put his weight into it, pushing his way into the room. It was the douche bag owed his uncle money. He couldn't believe it, Joey trying to remember his name. "The fuck're you doing here? Where's Angela at?"
Guy didn't say anything, stared at him like he was deaf.
Was this clown Angela's boyfriend? Must be if he had his own key.
"Where's my Unk's money?"
"I do not have," he said.
"You do not have?" Joey said. "You better fucking have."
Joey wished he had his baseball bat, show this dick with ears who he was dealing with here. Joey moved toward him, hit him in the face and knocked him on his ass. He could feel the adrenalin surge, squatted, put a knee on his chest and pinned him against the carpet. "Where's she at?" Joey said, the guy's name coming to him now. Mazara, that was it.
"The American took her," Joey thought he said, easing up a little so he could breathe.
"What American?"
He told Joey about the student they'd kidnapped. Thought he was the son of a wealthy American senator, Charles Tallenger, but instead they had picked up the wrong one, and he had taken Angela.
This was getting good. Joey'd been down since he left Detroit and this charged him up. He felt like his old self again. He'd find this amateur fucking yahoo student, bring Angela back and, who knew, maybe take over his uncle's business while the old boy sat on his ass. Joey was thinking — hold on a second — maybe this was fate. Maybe this was destined to happen. He'd looked up his horoscope online that morning. It said making your mark on the world isn't for the faint of heart. Plans always change. Be open to new voices directing you. It was as if it was talking directly at him, telling him he was on track, showing him the way.
Joey let him up now and his phone rang. Mazara flipped it open and brought it to his ear.
Joey said, "That him?"
Mazara nodded.