It was the family’s story, one they’d told to all their friends and even their own small children. Abe had moved to Los Angeles and came back only periodically for visits. As far as he knew, even Rachel believed it. It would have been too dangerous for one of the kids to inadvertently mention his true movements. He shot Kristen a look and saw she understood the subterfuge and would not expose it.
„Yes, sir. I’m back now, assigned to the Homicide Division. This is Kristen Mayhew.“
Tony’s wizened old face scrunched in concentration as he struggled to place the name, then his brows shot up his forehead when he did. „Ah. Well, we’ll not speak of such things tonight. Tonight is not for work, but for play.“ He produced a bottle of red wine from behind his back. An excellent label, Abe could see at a glance. „My nephew told me only of a pretty lady who had spent a year in the beautiful city of my father and grandfather.“ With the skill of the well practiced, he whipped the cork from the bottle. „It has been some time since I have been to Firenze, but it is always in my heart.“ He set about filling their glasses with pride, and it was then Abe remembered Kristen didn’t drink.
He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, his entire body stiffening when he felt her hand slide across his. He looked at her and she shook her head, a minute movement meant only for him. Then her hand was gone and she lifted her glass to Tony in a toast. She spoke in Italian, and whatever she said made Tony beam even brighter. He responded in kind before turning to Abe with a great smile.
„Now that you are home you will come often, yes, Abe? And when you come, you will bring the signorina.“
„I will.“ Whether Abe meant the first or both, he couldn’t say. „Tony, we’ve been followed all day by reporters. If anyone comes in that looks suspicious, could you…?“
Tony frowned. „Say no more, Abe. They will not bother you here.“ He went back to the kitchen, not waiting for a response.
Kristen carefully set the wineglass on the table and looked away. „A nice man.“
„Mmm, yes. Tony is an old friend of my parents.“
He tilted his head, willing her to look at him, but she didn’t. His fingers itched to touch her, to slide across the table and cover her hand as she had his. But he didn’t, instead lifting his own wineglass to his lips. „I thought you said you didn’t drink.“
„I don’t, but I didn’t want to insult him by denying his hospitality. I’ll have a sip or two over the evening, and you’ll be the only one to know.“
And there it was again, her simple regard for the feelings of others. He thought of the look in her eyes the night before as she’d torn the sandpaper in two and handed him half. He’d seen compassion and understanding, but also something more. That something more had kept him awake most of the rest of the night.
„Kristen.“ He waited, but she kept her eyes steadily focused on a point across the restaurant. „You could have gone home at any point after Spinnelli assigned your shadow. Mia offered to drop you off on her way to meet her date. Why are you here with me?“
It was another long moment before she met his eyes, but when she did he saw both interest and a vulnerability that made his heart stutter even as his blood kindled. „Did it ever occur to you that I’m here because I wanted to be with you, too?“ she asked quietly.
„I’d hoped,“ he answered honestly and her lips curved, so slightly he would have missed it had he not been staring. He covered her hand with his, feeling her quick flinch. But she didn’t pull away and he took that as a positive sign. „Why Italy?“
She blinked, clearly not anticipating the question. „Excuse me?“
He slipped his thumb beneath her hand, sweeping back and forth against her palm in a gentle caress. She grew rigid, but still didn’t pull away. „Why a year in Italy?“
Her eyes dropped to their joined hands. „I was studying in Florence.“
„Art?“
She looked up, a little smile on her face, and his heart stuttered again. „Does anyone go to Florence to study anything else?“
„I thought you had an eye for color,“ he said. „So if you studied art in Florence, how did you end up a lawyer? Why aren’t you painting or sculpting or whatever you studied?“
Her smile dimmed. „Life doesn’t always end up the way you plan. But I suppose you know that, too.“
That he did. „Yeah.“
She visibly shook herself. „I’m being selfish here. You invite me to share a nice dinner and I go all maudlin on you. Let’s talk about something else.“
„Okay, something else.“ He tilted his head, scrutinizing her. „You surprised us this afternoon at the target range. You never told us you could shoot.“ But she could. He’d watched her standing in front of Diana Givens’s glass counter methodically choosing her weapon, his mind thinking about how pleasurable it would be to show her the fundamentals of handling a firearm. How it would feel to put his arms around her, to feel her slender body against his. His body had responded instantly to the fantasy, leaving him almost relieved when she’d declined his and Mia’s offers of help. Instead, she’d emptied the magazine into the paper target with speed and accuracy, leaving them all momentarily speechless. „You hit the chest cavity every time.“
„I’m no sharpshooter, but I can hold my own with a tin can on a fence rail.“
„So you lived on a farm in Kansas?“ he asked, pulling together the scant details about her life she’d let drop over the last few days.
She shifted uncomfortably, but nodded. „My father had an old.38 we used to use for target practice.“
She’d effectively sidestepped that question about the old Mayhew family homestead. „So who got your father’s gun when he died?“
Her expression chilled. „My father isn’t dead.“
Abe frowned. „But you said you don’t have any family.“
„Because I don’t.“ Once again she drew a breath and visibly shook herself. „I’m sorry. There I go again. I’m just mad I have to wait three days to get my gun. The reality of gun laws hit me pretty squarely when I was filling out the paperwork.“
„What do you mean?“
She grimaced. „Just that the guys I’m protecting myself against will have purchased theirs from a dealer that doesn’t exactly comply with gun laws. They’re armed while I wait“
„You probably could have the waiting period waived.“
„And wouldn’t that look just peachy in Zoe Richardson’s report?“ She shook her head. „I don’t think so. No, I’ll just keep a tire iron under my pillow until I get my permit.“
He opened his mouth to say more, then closed it on a groan when the restaurant door opened. Kristen instantly sat up and pulled her hand back to her side of the table. „What?“ she asked, twisting to look behind her, alarm on her face. „More reporters?“
„No, worse. My sister.“ It was true. Rachel came in with what appeared to be a busload of teenagers, and the volume in the restaurant became suddenly overwhelming.
That Rachel wouldn’t see him was too much to hope. That she wouldn’t recognize Kristen was just pipe dreaming. From across the restaurant he could see Rachel’s eyes grow wide, and in less than a minute she was standing beside their table.
„Abe!“ She leaned down and pecked his cheek. „I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight. Did you ask her? Did you?“
Abe sighed. Rachel’s request for an interview with Kristen for her school project. In all the activity it had simply slipped his mind. „No, Rach, we’ve been busy.“
Rachel frowned her displeasure. „Then at least introduce me so I can. Please?“
Abe sighed, more heavily this time. „Kristen Mayhew, this is my youngest sister Rachel. Rachel, this is Assistant State’s Attorney Mayhew.“
Saturday, February 21,
7:30 p.m.
„He doesn’t want to be disturbed.“