Page 74 of Above ’N’ Beyond

“Like my suit?” He puffed up his chest.

“It looks good on you.” It did, actually. Marco was a handsome man. He still didn’t make her blood race or her heart beat faster.

Over Marco’s shoulder, Jimmy caught her eye and winked. As if to prove the point, her heart flipped like a pancake on a hot griddle. God help her, because there was no doubting it now. She really was falling for him.

Marco’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t waste your time on him. He won’t be around much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Jimmy hadn’t said he was leaving, although he hadn’t exactly said he’d be sticking around, either. She’d just assumed he would.

Marco cocked his head, his expression turning smug. “He may not be who he says he is.”

Bella shook her head. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been doing a little digging. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I will. Soon. Very soon.” His smirk deepened. “In the meantime, you should stay away from him. He’ll only hurt you.” He downed what remained of his Champagne, then set the empty glass on the table and walked away.

Bella stared at Jimmy’s back, wondering what Marco could possibly know about Jimmy that she didn’t. Then again, how well did she know Jimmy? In some ways, more than she’d known any man. In others, she barely knew him at all. But why would Marco say he’d hurt her?

Probably because he was jealous. That had to be it. Marco still had a thing for her, and Jimmy was rising quickly in her cousin and aunt’s estimation. The fact he’d been invited to this party in the first place was evidence of just how quickly.

And yet Marco’s last words triggered a deep-seated warning, one that had been her personal mantra for quite some time now.

If you let someone in, they’ll only hurt you.

…

Jamie hadn’t been scanned for bugs this time. As expected, neither had Bella.

The receiver was outside in his Tahoe, less than fifty yards away. When he’d stashed it under the front seat, he still hadn’t been sure he’d actually go through with it and give Bella the necklace. Now that he had, he felt like the lowliest piece of shit on the planet. Lower than rat shit. Lower than cockroach shit, which was about as low as it got. Seeing how much she loved the pendant only made him feel worse.

In the last few minutes, the phone in his pocket had vibrated with two incoming calls. As much as he wanted to take the calls, he couldn’t. Nor could he risk taking photos of the four men whose real identities he still didn’t know. Their identities were intricately tied to Paola’s big plans, he was sure of it. He needed to know who they were, and he needed to know ASAP.

The precinct supervisor, Lt. Achebe, had assured him he’d have an ID on the man Jamie picked up at Stewart Airport—Signor Rossi—by this evening. He had a hunch that was what at least one of the calls was about. With less than a week before Paola’s event at the Bistro, urgency dictated he find a way to check his phone, and with his voice mailbox deactivated, he also needed a quiet place to return the calls.

Bella stared at him curiously from across the room. He’d caught her talking with Marco, and anything involving Ianetti never failed to leave Jamie with the feeling he was about to get stabbed in the back. Marco watched him closely, one corner of his mouth lifted but not in a smile. It was more of an I’m-about-to-fuck-you look.

“Excuse me,” he said to Paola. “I need to take Jax outside before we sit down for dinner.” He deposited his empty flute on a passing waiter’s tray, then signaled for Jax to follow. Leaving the house, even for a few minutes, was a risk, but he had no choice. Confirming Rossi’s true identity was too important to figuring out what the hell was going on.

As he crossed the room, Bella continued eyeing him oddly. Once outside, he went into the expansive backyard and headed away from the house until he stood by the seawall where lapping waves would help cover his conversation. Jax lifted his leg on one of the shrubs abutting the seawall.

He looked around the yard, verifying they were alone, then tugged out his phone. Sure enough, Lt. Achebe had called. He hit redial.

“Diallo,” Jamie said when the other man picked up. “What’ve you got?” Every second counted, and he had to get back inside ASAP.

“Stand by,” the lieutenant said. “I’m sending you two images. The first one is from a passport, and the other is an enlarged photo taken from one of the video cameras today. Your guy’s name is Tommaso Sala. We tracked him back to the gate. He arrived on American Airlines from Reykjavik. It was a connecting flight to Iceland from Rome.”

Rome. No surprise there. Jamie’s phone dinged with the incoming photo. The face staring back at him had dark brown hair, green eyes, and looked like Signor Rossi.

Jamie opened up the passport document and read Tommaso Sala’s full physical description. Sala weighed one-seventy, the same weight Jamie had originally estimated Rossi to be, and Sala was—

Six feet tall.

No way the man standing not a hundred feet away sipping Champagne was a six-footer. Rossi was five-nine, max. At least without his three-inch lift shoes.

Using his thumb and forefinger, Jamie enlarged the passport photo, peering more closely at it. He swiped to the other photo, the one taken from the Stewart Airport video, also peering intently at this one. He had to swipe back and forth between the two photos several times. The facial features in the photos were similar, but one thing was for certain.

The man Jamie and Tony had picked up at the airport wasn’t Tommaso Sala. Most likely, the other three men in Paola’s house weren’t Signors Bruno, Gallo, and De Luca, either.

“D, I need a favor, and I need it fast.”