Page 7 of Above ’N’ Beyond

Sammy made a scoffing sound. Nicky rolled his lips inward, and Paulie chuckled. They knew her well.

“Fist, my man.” Tony clapped him on the back. “I hate to sound like a lawyer, but you might wanna rephrase your question before my cousin makes you eat off the floor.”

The rest of the men snickered. Except for Marco.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to insult your culinary skills.” Jimmy handed her the menu and inclined his head to the chalkboard special on the far wall. “I’ll have the eggplant rollatini.”

Bella looked at the chalkboard, which had to be at least thirty feet away. Even she couldn’t read it from this distance. The guy must have laser-sharp hawk eyes. “Good choice.” She turned to put his order in.

“Bella, wait.” Tony grabbed her arm. “Jimmy’s looking for a place to stay. All the apartments that aren’t filthy dumps are either too expensive or don’t allow dogs. Jimmy’s got a dog. Didn’t you say your tenant just moved out? And you did say you loved dogs.” Her cousin smirked.

“Uh…” She gripped the menu tighter. The last thing she needed or wanted was one of Tony’s friends living on her property. “It’s not ready yet. I haven’t had the chance to clean it since my tenant left.”

Jimmy draped a long arm over the back of his chair. “I don’t mind cleaning.”

Shoot. These guys were backing her into a corner. “It’s too small for you and a dog.” Unless he had a Pekinese. Not a chance. This guy definitely wasn’t the Pekinese type.

“C’mon, Bella,” Tony prodded. “You’ve got a fenced-in yard. Perfect for a dog. Let him stay. As a favor to me.”

A favor? Disbelief had her jaw dropping. He had to be kidding. With Nyack taxes being what they were, she needed full rent from her next tenant.

“Tony,” Marco interjected. “If she doesn’t wanna rent her place to the new guy, she shouldn’t have to.”

Her cousin’s head swiveled faster than a weathervane in a hurricane. The glare he shot Marco was a frightening reminder of what her normally affable cousin was capable of. Nobody overruled Tony Mancuso, not even his lieutenant, which was what she’d heard Marco was to him.

“My mistake.” Marco threw up his hands. “Just looking out for your cousin.”

“I can look out for myself just fine. But thank you, Marco.” She sent him a grateful smile. He always seemed to be watching out for her. She readdressed Tony. “It’s not a good idea. I need a paying tenant.”

And there was something about Jimmy Santoro she couldn’t put her finger on.

Yeah, I can.

He scared her. Not for her personal safety, yet there was something about him that warned her to keep a distance.

“Bella.” Tony crossed his arms. The unyielding look in his eyes was cool, frosty. A warning. “He saved my life. I owe him. The family owes him.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath, trying not to scream. The Bistro wasn’t hers. Now the choice of who to allow into her own house had been stolen from her, as well. As she let out her breath, she glared at Jimmy, deeply resenting a man she’d known for less than ten minutes. “Fine,” she snapped. “But you’re going to pick up every single nugget of dog poop on my lawn.”

Chapter Three

Jamie parked a block from the meet location—a 1970s tract house in Yonkers. He’d been told it was a vacant safe house set up for him to meet, as needed, with Special Agent Jenkins. Jenkins didn’t know it, but after tonight, Jamie had no plans to go anywhere near the house again. This assignment was risky enough without him being seen by the wrong person.

He turned off the engine, then stepped outside, inhaling a deep breath of warm midnight air, the scent of freshly laundered clothing, and soap. Real, honest-to-goodness soap, not prison soap, which was no better than a block of waxy sandpaper that abraded his skin raw. His first night as a free man, he’d basked in the glory of a hot shower for a full thirty minutes, grateful his timed, five-minute Sing Sing shower days were behind him. Despite the hot summer air, he’d kept his beard. For now, anyway. Not because he thought he’d be identified. He’d gotten used to it.

After locking up the Tahoe, he headed down the sidewalk, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. The five-year-old maroon SUV he’d purchased yesterday with undercover funds might be a waste of the FBI’s money. If the Port Authority didn’t give Jax back to him, he’d have no specific need for an SUV. When he’d told Tony he had a dog, he’d been telling the truth. He had a dog. Didn’t mean he still did.

He hadn’t seen his K-9 in six months. Even though he and Jax had worked together every day for three years and gone home together after every shift, Jax didn’t belong to him. Jax was a law enforcement asset, the property of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey. As such, while Jamie had been in prison, Jax had been reassigned to someone else.

His guts twisted to the point of nausea. There was no guarantee he’d get Jax back. Ever.

As he walked the short block to the house, he scanned the road and sidewalk ahead, periodically glancing behind him. Just in case any of the Mancuso crew had miraculously managed to follow him. Speaking of the Mancusos…

He’d already read the FBI’s file on Bella Bianco. Still, she definitely wasn’t what he’d expected.

Her eyes were as vivid as the blue cornflowers in the field behind his parents’ house. The short, spiky blond hair totally suited her, another thing the FBI file had missed—the woman’s snarky, spitfire personality.

He admired the way she’d stood up for her employee. Not all restaurant owners would have done that and certainly not with the same spunky flair. If she hadn’t set that jackass in his place, he would have, and probably would have broken a few pieces of glassware and plates in the process. It had been far more entertaining to watch Bella in action. In many ways, she was his type of woman, but 1000 percent hands-off.