Deep (Pagano Family #4)(37)

One of his own crew, who’d worked with him for years. He really needed that damn drink.

He’d already changed into jeans and a t-shirt before Vanessa’s unannounced and ill-conceived visit. He’d have a drink and put ESPN on and pretend he was just a guy with the afternoon off.

Before he’d gotten to the kitchen for his scotch, there was a knock on his door. He went back and checked the peephole. Donnie, his baby face twisted with worry. He opened the door.

“Problem?”

“Yeah…uh. Boss, it’s Bev. She’s in there crying. It’s been going on a while.”

Nick sighed. Today was his day to deal with women’s drama, apparently. “Did you check on her?”

“I knocked, but she won’t let me in.”

“So unlock her door.”

“She has the keys. She snatched them from me when I let her in.”

“Shit, Donnie. How can you take care of somebody if you can’t get to her?”

“I don’t know! Boss, I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before, guarding somebody.”

Nick knew that. They were strapped for security, with Jimmy down, and the three made guards who’d died at his father’s funeral. With the increased need for coverage after the bombing, they’d pulled several made soldiers up for guard detail. Guarding wasn’t difficult for a man with an instinct for it. Bev and Donnie had gotten along well, so, with no better options, he’d put Donnie on as her main guard. But clearly he had little instinct for the work.

“Fuck. Okay.” He closed his door. The elevator opened, and Sam stepped out. Nick threw out a quick, “Going down the hall,” and then did so.

He tried her knob and found it locked, as advertised. He knocked. No answer. “Beverly.” He knocked again. Nothing. “Beverly, if I need to shoot the lock off, I will. That will be loud and will draw a lot of attention I don’t need. But I’ll do it. Open the door.”

The chain rattled, the deadbolt turned, and then the knob lock. She’d really wanted to be alone. The door opened. And Nick had an immediate urge to cup her face with his hand. She looked so damn sad. All clouds and grey skies.

Vanessa’s tears had made her ugly, turning her heavy makeup into rivers of black and gold. Beverly’s tears made her sweet. Even the mascara smudges.

“What.” It didn’t have the energy of a question. It was just a word.



He stepped in, making her walk backward, and closed her door, leaving Donnie outside. The apartment had a strong, earthy scent he couldn’t place. Not unpleasant. Exotic. “What’s wrong, bella?”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

“Is this about Vanessa?”

“Is that her name? And no. I just had a crappy day. I’m fine, and I want to be alone.”

He caught her right hand and turned it up, showing the inside of her wrist. “I thought your problems were the weight of a feather.” Allowing himself the luxury of impulse, he lifted her arm to his mouth and kissed her tattoo, feeling the raised skin of her scars against his lips.

Her eyes flared. “Why?” She pulled her hand, but he didn’t let it go.

“Why what?”

“Why be nice to me? Is it a game?”

“I don’t play games.”

“You don’t play games, and you don’t have regrets. Your life must be really simple, then.”

He chuckled. “No, bella. My life isn’t simple at all. Tell me what happened to make your day crappy.”

“You happened.” She pulled her hand again, and this time he let her have it.

“Please?”

She walked some distance away. “I worked a full shift, and now my ribs are killing me because I got caught up in somebody trying to bomb you. I have somebody following me around everywhere I go because the person who tried to bomb you now thinks you give a shit about me, and might hurt me because of it. My best friend was a total jerk to me because he thinks I’m—in his words—a stupid twat for liking you. And then I come home to find out that he’s totally right and you’re a liar and do have a girlfriend. You’re right. It shouldn’t matter. I don’t, so you shouldn’t.”

“I do.” He went to her, turned her around to face him again.

“Do what? Have a girlfriend? Matter? Well, bully for you. Not to me.”

“I don’t think that’s true, or you wouldn’t be in here crying. But that’s not what I meant. I don’t have a girlfriend. You saw an uninvited and unwelcome guest. I do give a shit about you. You do matter.”

“Why?”

“I think it’s early to say. But I’m here, asking what’s wrong, because I care.”

She gave him a lengthy, sidelong look. “But there’s no Good Nick.”

“No, bella. There’s only me. If you want a good man, then you shouldn’t cry over me. I’m not a good man, not the way most people would define it. My life is dark and violent. So am I. But I told you that I’m good to people I care about. That was the truth. I treasure what’s mine.”

Something in his words had particular impact, because her expression and posture changed dramatically. Most of the clouds cleared away, though she eyed him with something like reluctance. Or trepidation.