Vito checked his watch before looking up at the waitress. “How about a large with everything?” he said. “And just bring it in a box. I’ll take it with me.”
“She’s not coming, huh?” the waitress said sympathetically, taking his menu.
Sophie should have been there a half hour ago easily. “Doesn’t appear so.”
“Well, a man like you should have no trouble finding somebody better.” Clucking, she went back to the kitchen to place his order, and Vito leaned his head against the wall behind his booth and closed his eyes. Tried not to think about the fact that Sophie hadn’t come. Tried to focus on the things he could really change.
They’d identified four of the nine victims. Five more to go.
Roses. He smelled roses and felt the booth shake as someone slid into the other side. She’d come after all. But he stayed where he was, eyes closed.
“Excuse me,” she said and he opened his eyes. She was sitting across from him wearing her black leather jacket. Huge gold hoops hung from her ears and she’d pulled her hair over one shoulder. “I’m waiting for somebody, and I think you might be him.”
Vito chuckled. She’d taken them back to the moment they’d met. “That memory zapper works better than I thought. Maybe I should try it.”
She smiled at him and he felt some of his stress ease. “Hard day?” she asked.
“You could say that. But I don’t want to talk about my day. You came.”
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s hard to resist movie swag. Thank you.”
Her hands were grasping each other so tightly that her knuckles were white. Taking a breath, he reached across the table and pulled her hands apart, then held each one. “It was hard for you to give his name, but you did it anyway, to help us.”
Her hands tensed as her eyes skittered away from his. “And all those mothers, wives, husbands, and sons. I didn’t want you to talk to Alan because I was ashamed. But I was more ashamed at not telling you.”
“I meant what I said in the note. Brewster is an ass. You should forget him.”
She swallowed. “I didn’t know he was married, Vito. I was young and very stupid.”
“Everything made sense when I met him. I think you knew it would.”
“Maybe.” She looked up, resolutely, he thought. “I brought you something.” She pulled a folded sheet of paper from her pocket and handed it to him.
Vito unfolded it and laughed. She’d drawn a four-by-four matrix. Across the top she’d written French, German, Greek, and Japanese. Down the side were damn, shit, hell, and fuck. In the boxes she’d filled in what he assumed were translations. “I like this four-by-four matrix a lot better than the one I’ve been staring at for two days.”
She was grinning at him and he felt even more weight roll from his shoulders. “I promised to teach you some new swear words. I wrote the phonetic spelling, too. I wouldn’t want you pronouncing them wrong. It spoils the effect.”
“It’s great. But you’re missing ‘ass.’ I got busted by my nephew for that one tonight.”
Brows lifted, she took the paper from his hands and pulled a pen from yet another pocket, then wrote the offending word and all its translations. She handed it back and he folded the paper and slipped it in his pocket. “Thank you.” Then he took her hands in his again and was relieved to find her relaxed. “I wasn’t sure you were coming.”
“I had trouble with my bike. I had to catch a ride with one of my students.”
He frowned. “What kind of trouble with your bike?”
“It wouldn’t start. Somebody put sugar in my tank.”
“Who would do that?” His eyes narrowed when her lips pursed. “Who’s been bothering you, Sophie?”
“Oh, Brewster’s wife. She’s a nut case. Sent me a threatening… note. Kind of.”
“Sophie,” he warned.
She rolled her eyes. “She sent me a dead mouse, then called to tell me to keep my hands to myself. She must have heard Alan talking to Clint. The woman’s certifiably crazy. She thinks all the women are throwing themselves at Alan.”
“His current assistant probably is.” He sighed. “But I’m sorry she thinks you did.”
“It’s okay. Really. I’ve been tiptoeing about dealing with Alan for a long time, and this forced me to deal. It’s all good.” She scowled. “Except my bike. That pisses me off.”
It was an opening he couldn’t pass up. “I can take you home.”
His words came out deeper and more suggestive than he’d planned. Her cheeks heated and she looked down, but not before he saw her eyes darken with desire, sending a wave of lust singing through his system.
“I’d appreciate it,” she said quietly. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She tugged her hand free and pulled out another folded sheet from her pocket. “I got a little more information for you on that guy who died in Europe. Alberto Berretti.”
This sheet listed the names of Berretti’s children and their attorneys. It also listed names of the man’s household and business staff and his key debtors. It would be a very good start when he talked to Interpol the next day. “Where did you get this?”
“Etienne-you know, my old professor? He didn’t even know any more than Berretti’s name and the rumor. But my father’s old friend knows lots of rich people, and if not personally, he knows someone who does. I called him, and he got the information.”
Vito pushed back his irritation. “I thought you agreed not to call anyone else.”
“I didn’t call anyone I thought was dealing or buying.” She was irritated and didn’t bother pushing it back. “I’ve known Maurice since I was a little girl. He’s a fine man.”
“Sophie, I’m grateful. I just don’t want you hurt. If you know him, he should be fine.”
“He is,” she said stubbornly. But she didn’t pull the hand he held away and Vito saw that as a good sign. He took her free hand again and once again she relaxed.
“So… your father. Is he still alive?”
She shook her head sadly. “No, he died about two years ago.”
She’d liked her father, then. Unlike her mother. “It must have been hard on him, having you so far away in Europe for so long.”
“No, he lived in France. I was able to see him more at the end of his life than when I was growing up.” She looked at him sideways. “My father’s name was Alex Arnaud.”
Vito crunched his brows. “I know I’ve heard that name before. No, don’t tell me.”
She looked amused. “I’d be very surprised if you knew him.”
“I’ve seen his name fairly recently.” The memory clicked and he stared at her. “Your father was Alexandre Arnaud the actor?”
She blinked. “I’m impressed. Not many Americans know his name.”
“My brother-in-law is a film buff. Last time I was visiting them, he was on a French film kick and a few of them weren’t too bad. No offense.”
“None taken. So which one did you see?”
“Do I get a bonus prize for getting the movie title, too?” Again her cheeks heated, and he realized there was as much shyness as desire in her eyes. This was new for her, flirting, like this, and that was an even bigger turn-on than anything else. Almost anything, he amended. He knew what lay under the black jacket was more than enough of a turn-on on its own. “I’m glad I have a good memory,” he teased, then reluctantly released her hands when the waitress set the pizza on the table with a knowing grin.
“You still want this to go?” the waitress asked. “I can bring the box.”
“I’m starving,” Sophie confessed. “Are you closing soon?”
The waitress patted her hand and gave Vito a wink. “When you’re done, honey.”
Vito snapped his fingers. “Soft Rain,” he said. “Your father’s movie.”
Sophie stopped chewing, her eyes wide. “Wow. You’re good.”
Vito put a slice on his plate. “So what’s my bonus prize?”