Heartbeats Amidst Chaos, Part 2

6. Chapter 6

Chapter six

“ A re you kidding me right now?” Reagan cried, much louder than necessary since she had thrown her arms around Rissa and her mouth was next to her ear. “I’ve been dying over here trying to find out what is going on with you and where you disappeared to. You don’t call, you don’t text until suddenly you do, asking me out for coffee? Like this is just some normal day and nothing crazy is going on?”

She pulled back to look Rissa full in the face, her gaze searching. “Girl, are you okay?”

Rissa smiled. The genuine concern in her friend’s face warmed her heart. Reagan looked beautiful as usual, like a character out of a book. She wore a short green pleated skirt, tall boots, and a white blouse that hugged her bosom tightly, looking as if the topmost buttons had burst open by accident. Her chocolate brown hair was tucked into an intricate braid along one side of her head that gave way to curls tumbling over the opposite shoulder, and a tiny green beret perched jauntily on the back of her head.

Reagan’s rosy cheeks, turned-up nose, and spatter of freckles were almost as familiar to Rissa as her own sterner features, but she found herself searching her friend’s face. So much had changed since they had last seen one another. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“I’m fine,” she answered Reagan’s question, noting that the worry in her friend’s blue-green eyes did not subside. “The police had my cellphone until this morning. That’s why I wasn’t able to call you.”

“There were no other phones in the police station?” Reagan asked pertly.

“Not where I was,” Rissa sighed.

The two settled at the table in the little out-of-the-way café that was almost as cozy as the bakery where she had her date with Elio.

It wasn’t a date, she scolded herself, reaching for the black coffee she ordered while waiting for Reagan and wrapping her fingers around it for comfort . It sure had felt like one though.

Her stomach still fluttered as she thought back to sitting across from him, the smell of bread and cinnamon and vanilla filling her nostrils and lulling her into a sense of contentment. A sweet, lovely bakery was not what Rissa would have anticipated being Elio’s regular haunt.

She still wasn’t sure about his idea of working together, which was part of the reason she had asked Reagan to meet her. But she had let him drive her to within a block of her home, after which she had walked and then crept back into her own house.

He’s already making me act like a criminal—keeping information from the police and sneaking around under their very noses. What am I going to end up doing if I stay in contact with him?

The thought sent a thrill through her that wasn’t entirely apprehension. She had known the moment she saw Elio standing at her bedroom window that he was not gone from her life forever after all. No, he was somehow here to stay, but in what capacity remained to be seen.

“Earth to Marissa!” Reagan exclaimed in a sing-song voice, and Rissa yanked her attention back to her friend, who had been chattering for the past couple of minutes while she had been lost in her thoughts. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Reagan asked, her brows crinkling over her eyes and her head tilted. “It’s not like you to zone out like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Rissa said, flushing. “There’s just so much going through my mind after all that’s happened. I don’t even know where to begin. And I still haven’t had that much sleep.”

“Tell me they’ve given you a good long leave from the hospital for recovery from traumatic events,” Reagan said, and Rissa smiled ruefully.

“I’m on leave all right. I’m not sure that’s the only reason though.”

“What do you mean?”

Rissa sighed. “The police suspect me of aiding and abetting Elio in his escape.”

Reagan’s mouth dropped open, and she was speechless for so long that it was almost comical.

“Are they crazy?” she asked finally. “You were a hostage.”

Rissa shrugged. Reagan’s mouth snapped closed, and she stared across the table with a shrewd expression that was still heavily mingled with disbelief.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked finally.

Rissa gulped. Reagan would not, for anything in the world, betray a secret, but it might be best if she didn’t know everything. “You first,” she said. “What did you find out about Elio Accardi?”

Reagan studied her for a moment longer, taking a long sip of her cappuccino before slowly nodding.

“Elio Accardi,” she said. “Twenty-nine years old. Grandson of one of the most longstanding crime bosses in the city, Angelo Accardi. Apparently, Elio’s dad was Angelo’s only son.”

“Was?” Rissa echoed.

“Died of gunshot wounds twelve years ago.” Reagan leaned forward, her gaze intense. “You know I’m all about the bad boys, Rissa, but this Elio guy is a lot more than that.”

“He’s committed crimes?” Rissa asked. Her heart was in her throat as she waited for Reagan to divulge a sordid history that would give her a good reason to cut Elio off entirely and go straight back to the police.

“Well,” Reagan hesitated. “Not Elio, specifically. At least none that I could find. But. . . it’s the Italian Mafia, for Pete’s sake, Rissa. I’m sure many, many things aren’t on their records.”

Rissa frowned, focusing on her friend’s face once more. “Why are you arguing with me like you think I’m on his side?” she asked. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

Reagan sighed. “I’m your best friend, Rissa. And it’s as obvious as the fact that my dad is colorblind when he picks out his own clothes—this guy has some kind of hold on you. I just don’t know exactly how or in what way.”

Rissa dropped her eyes to her cup, swirling it and watching the black liquid move silkily. “He claims he’s being set up,” she replied softly. She looked up, her eyes pleading with her friend to hear her out. “And I think he might be telling the truth.”

Reagan sat back in her chair, her eyes wide, shaking her head slowly back and forth.

“What?” Rissa asked. Surely her statement hadn’t been that shocking.

“You’re into him,” Reagan said breathlessly. “I almost can’t believe it, but you are totally into a suspected bomber, a fugitive from the police, and crime family offspring, Elio Accardi.”

Rissa felt her face heating as she bit her lip and watched her friend process her own statement. Eventually, Reagan leaned forward, her expression calmer.

“Okay,” she said. “This is a development I hadn’t let myself expect. But I trust your instincts, Rissa.”

“Really?” Rissa asked. She’d always thought it was the other way around.

“Absolutely,” Reagan said. “I’m not saying I’m totally onboard the ‘Elio is innocent’ train, but I’m willing to have an open mind as I continue gathering facts. Fuck, that’s how I gather facts anyway.” She reached across the table and touched Rissa’s hand, surprising her. “But Ris, you have to promise me you’ll be careful. Whatever you do, be careful.”

Rissa nodded, relief settling over her now that she had Reagan in her corner. “I promise,” she said, meaning it.

Ninety minutes later, the two hugged each other goodbye, and Reagan drove away. Rissa started down the street in the opposite direction. She had left her house openly this afternoon, but she was pretty sure she managed to lose the cop who followed her. It seemed best to let no one know she was meeting with her friend, an investigative journalist. There was no reason to draw Reagan into things any more than necessary.

As she strolled down the sidewalk, Rissa had the uneasy feeling that she was being watched. It was like a tingle on the back of her neck. She turned her head, glancing into the storefront windows on her left, eyeing the other people on the sidewalk and the cars along the street. Her gaze caught on a charcoal gray Mustang parallel parked on the opposite side of the street.

Her heartbeat quickened. Hadn’t Elio mentioned a gray Mustang when he snuck into her house, suggesting that it wasn’t the cops but someone else watching her?

But who?

Abruptly, Rissa turned down an alley, cutting between an antique shop and a used bookstore to come out on the street on the other side. Glancing both ways, she quickly crossed the road and ducked into a deli on the opposite side.

She pretended to peruse the shelves, watching the front windows until she saw the Mustang cruise slowly past. Swallowing the fear that rose in her throat, she watched until the car was almost at the end of the block. Then, she stepped back outside, falling in with a group of other pedestrians. She crossed the street with them, ducked back through the same alley she had used before, and hurried down the street to the bus stop on the other end.

Fortunately, a bus was just arriving. Rissa found a seat near the back. She kept her head low and her eyes down, watching the other passengers board from her peripheral vision. None of them gave her a second glance, and Rissa’s pulse began to slow to normal.

The driver was just about to close the doors when a final passenger boarded. He was tall and broad, with a baseball hat pulled low over his eyes. Rissa’s heart almost leaped out of her chest when he paused beside her.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, and she looked up. Something very close to euphoria flooded her as she met Elio’s steady hazel eyes.

She gestured toward the seat with an open hand. “Go ahead.”

Elio sat down.

“What are you doing here?” Rissa asked just above a whisper. “Are you following me?”

“I told you I was going to, off and on,” Elio said. “It’s my job, assigned to me by my grandfather, remember?”

“Angelo Accardi,” Rissa said softly. “I’ve just been hearing all about your infamous family.”

Elio’s face sobered as he looked down at her. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” he said. “But probably believe most of what you hear.” He sighed.

Rissa was intensely aware of Elio’s big body next to her, his muscled arm against her shoulder and his chiseled jaw as he looked over her toward the window.

“Saw you trying to lose that tail,” he said. “You did a good job.”

“That was the car you saw outside of my house, wasn’t it?” Rissa asked. Elio nodded.

They were silent for another moment before he asked, “Where are we going?”

A laugh bubbled up inside Rissa and slipped out.

“I have no clue,” she said. “I just got on the first bus that showed up.” Elio chuckled in response.

“I know a place we can talk if we get off at the next stop,” he said. Rissa nodded, her stomach twisting with anticipation.

When they exited the bus, Elio led her down a quiet street to a red and white diner called Caroline’s Cupboard. A sign in the window stated that it was closed for repairs. Taking keys from his pocket, he unlocked the door, holding it for her to enter before him.

“Welcome,” he said, waving a hand at the tables, stacked with upended chairs. “May I offer you lunch?”

Rissa raised her eyebrows. “There’s still food here?”

“I keep my own stash,” Elio admitted. “I’m thinking of renaming this The Fugitive’s Fridge.”

Rissa laughed, surprised at the glimpse Elio was giving her of his more playful side and by how comfortable it was making her.

“I wouldn’t mind lunch,” she said.

She followed him to the kitchen, where he immediately started pulling ingredients from the cupboards and popped a skillet on the stove.

“Grilled cheese okay?”

“Grilled cheese is awesome.” Rissa tried to keep the surprise from her voice at the normalcy of the question.

As there were no chairs in the kitchen, Rissa put her back to the counter and hopped up to sit on it, swinging her legs as Elio slathered the pan with coconut oil and butter, explaining the intricacies of the simple recipe in a way that had Rissa laughing.

The oil sputtered merrily as he added the sandwiches. Turning and stepping toward her, Elio stopped just in front of her knees. Time seemed to slow down. He looked down at her, standing so close, and Rissa felt her heart sputter just like the frying pan.

“Am I in your way here?” she asked, attempting to keep up the joking, but instead her voice came out slightly breathless.

“Maybe,” Elio said. His eyes caressed her face, pausing at her lips, and then slowly raked lower. His gaze sent shivers through her as he slowly and deliberately ran his eyes over her body.

Her breath caught in her throat as Elio’s hand lightly brushed her thigh, slowly skimming downward, dipping over the edge of the counter, and grabbing the drawer between her knees. She spread her legs slightly, letting it open, and he pulled out a spatula, holding it up with a teasing grin.

Rissa huffed out a faint laugh and watched as he flipped the grilled cheese sandwiches and then transferred them to a plate, shutting off the stove.

He turned back to her.

“Couldn’t let those burn,” he said. “But they do need a minute to cool.” He stepped closer, laying a hand on each thigh, confidently this time, and leaning forward. Rissa surrendered to her desire and wrapped her arms around his neck, their lips meeting with an eagerness that belied how long both had been resisting the urge.

She shuddered with delight as his fingers slid higher on her thighs, his thumbs stroking gently along the insides. Reaching down, she captured his hands in her own, halting their motion.

Cut off from the normal, useful life she had been living for so many years, Rissa was quickly growing tired of letting everyone do everything for her—strangers doing the stalking, Reagan doing the research, Elio making the sandwiches. She was filled with a vibrating desire and urgency to take action herself.

Elio stilled, drawing back slightly, perhaps thinking that she didn’t want to continue. Rissa slipped down from her perch, their bodies nearly touching. She held his gaze, watching it change from puzzled to curious as she replaced his hands on the counter on either side of her and said softly, “Don’t move them from here.”

She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, standing on her tiptoes to start her kisses on his temple and trail downward, tracing the straight line of his jaw before kissing her way down his neck to his collarbone and along the scar there.

Elio sighed shakily, his head dropping toward her, though he kept his hands obediently in place on either side of her. Dropping her own hands to his belt, she captured his lips in another kiss as she unfastened and unzipped his jeans, sliding them down over his narrow hips just enough to free his erection, which pressed against his white briefs with an urgency that told her it wouldn’t take long to bring him to full release.

Rissa slipped her fingers into his briefs and slid them downward as well. She reached for the coconut oil Elio had left open on the counter and scooped some into her fingers, massaging it into her skin to warm it before dropping her right hand to encircle his rigid penis.

Elio gasped as she closed her fingers around it, squeezing gently and sliding them slowly outward, steadily increasing her speed as she repeated the motion, finding a rhythm. Elio’s breath quickened to match it. She could feel his arms tensing and trembling on either side of her as he struggled to keep them in place on the countertop, and she smiled, turning her head to kiss and then gently bite his ear.

“Rissa,” Elio sighed, and then he dropped his head against her shoulder and came with a shudder and moan.