I look immediately to the mantle over the fireplace that dominates one side of the room. Among the paintings of boats and pretty beach-themed watercolors, one image stands out from the rest. It’s a portrait of me and my brother – my strong, handsome brother, standing on the beach outside this very apartment.
I shut the door behind me, stumble across the room, and lift the framed photo from its place on the wall. Then I hold it against my chest, sink onto the floor, and begin to weep.
Chapter 9
Mateo Ricci
“What the fuck was she thinking?” I mutter under my breath as I peer through the open window of the small house. The modest wooden structure is deceptively charming with its white-framed windows and deliberately distressed blue paintwork. It must be worth a small fortune, with its beachfront location. And Andy Carter is clearly visible through the window that she hasn’t bothered to close the blinds to.
She shouldn’t be visible. She should be shut away and out of sight. Because I have no doubt that she’s running from something. Or, more likely, someone. Her bizarre trek across the state had all the signs of someone on the run. Someone unskilled – she’d practically left a trail a mile wide. After Dario had asked me to find her, it had barely taken minutes to locate the diner she’d called Nikki from.
It had taken a little work to convince the owner to tell me that Andy had given her a Ferrari in exchange for her old Toyota.
A goddamn Ferrari!
From there, I’d pulled some favors with my old Bureau connections to lock down footage of the truck passing various traffic points. Footage that had led all the way to a small coastal village. Dario’s jet – with me in it – touched down on a small private landing strip outside Greenport Village a couple of hours ago, and I’d been met by a man who’d given me the keys to a dark sedan. Andy’s “traded” pickup had been photographed by a security camera, parked outside a small letting agency in town. I’d easily convinced the owner that I was Andy’s boyfriend, in town to surprise her. It’s almost frightening how easily people will give up confidential information for all the wrong reasons.
Now I’m sitting across the road, watching as she stares silently into a roaring fire. It’s a cool evening, and the warm glow touches her face, kissing it with red that matches the rich hue of her hair. She’s as beautiful as I remember.
Dammit.
I heave a sigh as I pull my wayward thoughts back to the job at hand. I climb out of the car and make my way across the street. My sense of determination is mixed with annoyance. I have half a mind to rattle her teeth when I confront her. How long did she think she’d remain undiscovered if she continued like this?
I make my way up the front stairs and over the porch that leads to the door. The creak of my footsteps has her leaping to her feet, and I see her race across the room, quickly drawing drapes as she moves.
Damn fool woman.
Doesn’t she know it’s too late for that now?
The room remains silent when I knock sharply on the front door. Though I can hear her hoarse breathing on the other side of the pristine white panels.
“Andy, open up,” I say firmly. There’s no answer, but I can still hear faint rustling within. A soft whiff of fragrance swirls to meet me. A scent that reminds me of sunshine and roses. A scent I’d grown to connect to her over the months we’d interacted at Dario’s place.
“Andy, it’s Mateo Ricci. I can hear you in there. Don’t bother hiding. It will only waste more time.”
The door opens a crack, and she stares up at me with tear-soaked eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice husky.
“Why the hell have you come here?
Don’t you know what you’ve done?” I see her start to shove the door closed, but push my foot through to keep it open.
“You can’t—!” she starts, but I cut her short as I push past her into the little entrance hall.
“I’ve come to make sure you are okay.” I reply, moving briskly around the living room and shutting the blinds she’d left open. The room is swathed in shadows when I turn to face her. She stands stiffly, arms folded across her chest, her chin jutting. Even with puffy, red-rimmed eyes, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“You don’t know what you’ve done!” she chokes out.
“You’ve probably led them right to me! How the hell did you find me, anyhow?”
I shake my head. “You might as well have slapped a homing beacon on your ass, Andy,” I respond.
“It took me almost no time to track you down.” She’s shaking her head, her mouth opening and closing.
“You have to leave!” she finally gets out.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” I reply. “Nikki’s worried sick. They found your place turned upside down. She thought you were dead, Andy.”
