Black Opal (9 page)

He nodded and walked rapidly away. Pausing in the dining room entryway, he glanced around. Tension mounted.
Where are they?

As Adam turned to leave, he glimpsed them out of the corner of his eye. They were walking out of the ladies’ room and heading toward a corner table.

The hostess hurried toward him. “Good morning, Mr. Morelly, so good to see you. We have your table saved.”

He nodded in the direction of Sabina and Bella. “I’ll be joining Ms. Comti and Mrs. Tremaine-McHenry.” He hated hyphenated names. Why couldn’t women these days just take their husbands’ names like in the good ole days?

“Very good. Please follow me.”

He followed the hostess as she wove her way gracefully through the tables.

Sabina saw him first. Her pleasant smile congealed on her lovely features.

Adam tamped down his impatience. He had never encountered a female he couldn’t bring around to his way of thinking. Like his Uncle Johnny, he loved women. But unlike his uncle he loved them for a variety of reasons not just for their performance between the sheets. He loved the way they smelled and looked, their quirky humor and their feline intelligence.

It didn’t matter if they were eighteen or eighty, he enjoyed them. They sensed this and reciprocated. Everyone has a need to be admired, except perhaps the elusive Ms. Comti. He was making no headway in that direction at all.

He pasted on his most charming smile and pulled out a chair. “Ladies, how good to see you this morning. May I join you?” Adam asked as he sat down.

Coffee appeared at his elbow as if by magic.

“It seems you already have,” Sabina replied dryly.

“How are you, sugar?” Bella inquired as the waitress placed flaky, yeasty-smelling croissants in front of her and Sabina.

He waited ’til the waitress disappeared then leaned forward. “Ladies, I think it’s time we leveled with each other.”

The women exchanged glances then Sabina looked at him, arched a brow and said coolly, “Fine. You go first.”

He grinned. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Bella scooted forward in her chair and purred, “Why, sugar, I’d like nothing better than to see yours.”

Sabina rolled her eyes.

Adam laughed. “You’re very good at that but I’ve met your husband. And even if I thought for a minute you were serious, which I know you’re not, I value my skin. I’d never mess around with Hank McHenry’s wife.”

She threw back her head and joined in Adam’s laughter, a full-throated sensual sound. “You’ve tumbled to me, sugar. All show and no go.” She leaned back in the chair. “So let’s see yours.”

He took a quick casual glance around the dining room. The hair on the back of his neck rose. He could feel someone watching him. Everyone in the dining room seemed intent on his or her meals. The old man looking for the stadium had just walked in and was waving timorously from the entryway. He nodded and smiled then glanced away.

“Something wrong, sugar?” Bella studied him her eyes intent.

Adam gave himself a mental shake. “I’m fine.” He lowered his voice. “I know about the amulets.” His glance slid from Bella to Sabina. If he’d expected a reaction from either woman he was doomed to disappointment.

“Amulets?” Sabina inquired coolly.

“Ooh, shug, I don’t know what you’re talking about but do tell,” Bella plopped her elbow on the table, cupped her chin with her hand and watched him as if she hung on his every word.

Damn. No one said this would be easy.

“How about instead of what am I talking about, you try how did you find out?” He could feel exasperation and temper inching through his system along with his blood pressure.

Sabina sipped her orange juice then set down the crystal glass. “All right, I’ll bite. How did you find out?” Her smile—all teeth—looked like she’d love to bite—right into his jugular.

He gave each one a simmering look. Before he could reply the waitress came back to fill up their coffee. “Mr. Morelly, would you care for anything to eat?”

He gave her a strained smile. “No thank you.”

Bella held out her cup.

The waitress filled it and walked away.

“We’re waiting with bated breath.” She took a small sip of the steaming brew.

“The internet,” he bit out, his lips in a straight line.

“Oh, shug, whatever are you talking about?” Bella inquired, widening her big blue eyes.

“I’m talking about the legend, the five amulets. It’s out there for all the world to see. And you wear yours in plain sight,” he sputtered, forcing himself to lower his voice.

“Well, of course, sugar. Anything worth having is worth displaying.” She ran her hand suggestively over her plunging neckline.

Adam couldn’t help it. He stared at her in fascination then shook his head trying to clear it. She was trying to derail him and had almost succeeded. Damn the woman was good. Nothing like a little talk of sex to distract a man.

He tore his gaze away from where her red lacquered fingernails were leading and leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. “You could have made a killing on the stage,” he said casually.

“Can’t fool you for a minute, hey shug?”

“No but for several very long seconds you did manage to distract me. Now spill it.”

“Mr. Morelly, this conversation is over.” Sabina stood up. “Bella, are you ready?”

Bella looked wistfully at her croissant then, heaving a martyred sigh, rose as well.

He reached out and grabbed Sabina’s arm. The contact sent electric currents jolting through him. Was it chemistry or a reaction to the amulet?

Heat pulsed through her arm beneath his hand but her eyes were as frigid as ice. “Mr. Morelly, get your hand off me.”

Letting go, he pushed back his chair and stood up. “Listen, I’m on your side. I just want to help.”

Her look both mocked and ridiculed. “You’re a gangster.”

Something inside him shriveled. “I’m an attorney,” he replied evenly.

“For the mob.”

A hot rush of blood coursed through him and he beat back his escalating anger.

“My practice is completely legitimate.”

She gave an unladylike snort and threw down her white linen napkin. “You’re a gangster and an attorney. You might be legit but that certainly doesn’t mean you’re not as dirty as hell.”

“Sugar,” Bella’s voice held a warning.

Sabina whirled on her. “What?”

“You could flail the skin off fish with that tongue.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bella but it would take more than Ms. Comti’s ill-chosen words to hurt me,” Adam drawled.
Liar.

Sabina tossed up her head. “I can’t believe you’re sticking up for him. His uncle tried to kill you.”

He pushed in his chair and bowed. “Ms. Bella, I wish you luck, you’re going to need it. He turned to Sabina. “To hell with you.”

Adam turned on his heel and strode away. He went slamming out of the restaurant in a haze of rage. He literally saw red. He’d heard the expression before but never experienced it but damn he was experiencing it now.

He’d never struck a woman in his entire life, well if you didn’t count the little miss who’d knocked him on his butt in the first grade. He’d gotten up and promptly popped her in the eye and had so disappointed his mother he’d never hit a girl again. But he’d come perilously close a moment ago. Maybe not to hitting her but to shaking her ’til her teeth rattled and she came to her senses.

Striding toward the elevator he nearly knocked down the old gent he’d given directions to earlier.

“Oof,” the old man said tottering on his unsteady feet.

“Sorry.” Adam reached out to steady the old gent. Beneath his outdated, navy blue pin-striped shirt his arm felt almost doughy.

The old man straightened as best he could and asked in his high quavering voice, “You look distressed. Are you all right, young man?”

“I’m fine,” Adam said, still feeling a flush to his face as rage boiled right behind his eyes.

“Woman trouble?” The senior citizen leaned on his cane, making him several inches shorter than Adam.

“No trouble at all.” Adam stepped into the elevator and punched the button. Legs splayed, hands crossed over his lean stomach he gave a terse nod at the old man as the doors shut and the elevator glided upward.

The elevator slid to a stop. He strode to his room, changed into his gym clothes then went to a gym a couple of blocks from the hotel and worked out on a punching bag. The impact of his fist against the bag vibrated up his arm again and again
. I’m not hurt, she didn’t hurt me.
It became a litany with each thrust, jab and fancy piece of footwork.

His chest heaving and sweat dripping off him, he headed for the shower, and a change of clothes, calmer now.
The woman’s entitled to her opinion
.

What rankled even more than the scathing tone she’d taken with him was how she’d referred to his uncle. “You work for the mob” in that sanctimonious, better-than-thou tone. He could feel his temper rising and did his best to beat it back.

Well Ms. Comti had made it perfectly clear what she thought of him. He could just shelve any fantasy he might be having about the little singer.

He jogged back to the hotel. Why does it hurt so much? he wondered as his sneakers pounded against the pavement.
I’ve had unflattering things said about me before. Though, not often and seldom to my face
. He smiled grimly, more a flexing of his jaw muscles, causing a bag lady who’d been about to approach him to veer away.

As he ran, he looked at the overcast sky, as gray as his mood. Even though it was mid-September the day was muggy and hot. He sniffed the air. Besides the diesel fuel, he could swear a storm was brewing. Or maybe it was just the squall in his stomach heaving and lurching about.

Reaching the hotel, he pushed the revolving glass door with unnecessary force and headed for the stairs still working off the hard knot of anger somewhere between his gut and his heart.

He stopped at the fifth floor and opened the door. He leaned over, pressing his hands against the front of his thighs and took a moment to regulate his breathing.

Straightening, he walked to his room. It would be just as well for him to stay away from the fiery-tempered Italian singer until his own anger had a chance to cool. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have someone keep a discreet eye on her.

There was only one man in town he could think of to be circumspect if things got dicey and she started throwing men against the wall.

Unlocking his door, he walked in, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, then pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jogging pants and hit speed dial. A friend of his ran a small PI firm.

“Dave,” he said leaning against the counter. “Adam Morelly. I need your services.”

“Long time no see, buddy. What can I do for you?” Dave replied.

“I need you to tail a lady who’s picked up an admirer but doesn’t want any help.”

“I’m in the middle of a case but I’ll put one of my men on it.”

“I want you. I’ll make it worth your while. I’m sure you can rearrange your schedule.”

“Who am I tailing?”

“Sabina Comti.”

“The singer?” Excitement vibrated over the phone line.

“I thought you might be available,” Adam said dryly.

“Is she as beautiful as everyone says she is?”

“Passable.”

Dave laughed. “You’re always one for understatements. Have you staked a claim?”

“Not my style you know that.”

“Then you won’t mind if I try my hand.”

His fingers tightened around the phone but he forced himself to relax. “Why should I? Come to the lounge in time for the show.” He hung up.

Looking down, he saw the kitten batting at his shoelace. Adam bent down, tickled her under the chin then went to the computer where he spent the rest of the day. But learned no more than what he’d found the night before.

With one last glance at the screen, he stretched and looked at his watch. He planned to catch Sabina’s performance then return to the hotel’s clubroom to wait for Victoria.

He cleaned up, grabbed a sandwich and fed the kitten. Then left the hotel and crossed the street to the Odyssey.

The curtain rose as he walked to the wings. The crowd began to applaud. When the clapping stopped, Sabina began to sing. Her voice filled the room. It carried him to snowcapped mountaintops where the air was thin and pure then took him down to smoky dark places that heated his blood and quickened his pulse.

When the concert finally ended he stood rooted in place. It took him a moment to collect himself. He caught his breath then stepped into the aisle and merged with the crowd before she saw him.

“You’re on,” Adam said, nodding at Dave as he passed him.

He walked across the street to the hotel lounge. The sound of a piano player serenading the patrons with Broadway tunes drifted toward him as he walked in. He made his way through the crowded room to a half-moon black leather chair facing the door. Settling in, he ordered a ginger ale and looked around.