Page 17 of Dangerous Games

I nod, turning back to see my reflection one last time. I feel put together even if I don’t like the way he makes me dress. When I spin back around and head for the pair of strappy, silver heels, he clicks his tongue and I look up at him.

“Is that really how you’re wearing your hair?” His brows furrow and I roll my eyes.

“Yes, it really is.” I pick up the heels and put them on and he doesn’t say another word, though I can tell he isn’t quite happy about my hair. That, of course, makes me happy.

He leads me out into the hallway then down the stairs. A car is waiting for us as we exit the place. I am naïve, thinking we will just get in the car drive to the restaurant where we will have dinner, but the minute we are in the car, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief.

“You know the drill,” he tells me. At least this one is made of softer fabric, and on the upside, I have my hair up so it won’t be messed up. I tie the thing around my eyes and sit back as the car starts moving. My mind is already swimming with questions I want to ask Jimmy. I wonder if Dominic is going to be angry when I ask them, but I am not an arm piece just to be viewed. I will speak my mind if and when the opportunity presents itself.

“Where are we eating?” I ask.

“A family restaurant, you’ll like it.” He speaks with authority, as if he knows my likes and dislikes. He’s too cocky. Someone needs to take him down a notch or two. A man like him has resources, sure, but they are limited. Maybe he knows where I live, what I do for a living. He may even know what happened to me—it’s not like there was no news coverage of what happened to Jimmy. He’s smart; he’d put the pieces together. But my likes and dislikes?

“You’re Russian? What are you planning to feed me? Borscht?” I scoff, knowing I absolutely hate borscht. If he could see me, he’d see me rolling my eyes again.

“No, I plan to order you theokroshkawithpelmeni.” He says it with such confidence I can only believe he really thinks I will like it. It satisfies my frustration strangely, and I change the subject.

“Have you hurt him?”

“Who?” Dominic plays stupid. He knows exactly who I’m talking about.

“My brother. Have you hurt him? Will I have more gashes to his ribs to bandage up?” I use a tone that communicates my disgust for his force. Jimmy is a tender soul at heart. I never have to do much more than give him a look and he listens to me—a grown man older than me and still listening to his sister about things like stray cats and water dishes.

“Jimmy is fine if he does his job.” Dominic clears his throat and I hear the leather of his seat squeak. “If you cause trouble tonight, there is a bullet with his name on it, though. How do you like that?”

I bite my tongue. I want to lash out and tell him what an ass he is, but I know that will only incite his anger. As much as I like angering him, I want him to be calm so I can enjoy my time with Jimmy.

The rest of the car ride is silent and when Dominic reaches over to remove my blindfold, I blink my eyes open to see we are in the heart of New York City. If I didn’t grow up around here, I’d be craning my neck like the tourists. These buildings are old news to me, though, and I just want to get to the restaurant. So, when the car stops, I hardly wait for the driver to walk around and open the door.

“Shall we?” Dominic asks, holding out his arm to me, and I rest my hand on it. He leads me through the front door of a Russian place. I can’t even read the name, let alone pronounce it, and everyone is speaking what sounds like babbling to me. I smile and nod when a polite woman says something to me as the hostess stand and follow her and Dominic as they weave through tables. The one she leads us to is in the center of the room, surrounded by dozens of other patrons.

Jimmy is waiting. He stands to greet me, offering a hug. His hands slide down my arms to my hands where he squeezes them. He looks into my eyes. “Are you okay? Is he treating you well?” Jimmy asks in a whispered flurry of words.

“We should sit,” Dominic says sternly, holding his tie against his chest. I nod, not wanting to anger him. There will be time enough to enjoy catching up while we dine.

Jimmy gives me a nervous look, but he nods too, and we sit, followed by Dominic.

The restaurant is quiet despite the masses gathered here eating. White linens adorn every table, with silver flatware and black cloth napkins. This isn’t a cheap place, though with Dominic’s money, I hardly think he ever eats at what I would consider a cheap place. Even the waiters wear full black-tie apparel. Ours approaches and Dominic orders in Russian, another jumble of unintelligible words. When the waiter is gone, he turns to Jimmy.

“Any news yet?” Dominic snaps his napkin out and drapes it over his lap. I sit nervously, waiting for my opportunity to speak to Jimmy without causing a stir.

“Maybe, I’m following a lead. More ties to the Italian fellow, and a potential trace back to you. I have to be certain and I’m waiting on a source.” Jimmy speaks with Dominic in a confident tone, though I know it’s an act. That’s not my Jimmy, not after what happened. Not even the fancy suit he’s wearing could give him that amount of confidence. He sure is a good actor though; should have been on Broadway.

“Good, I need that report as soon as your source relays the information.” Dominic nods at an approaching waiter who has two wine glasses, a bottle of wine and a beer. He sets the beer in front of Jimmy—some sort of rye malt calledkvass. He even knows Jimmy, which is beginning to concern me.

The waiter sets one wine glass in front of me, and one in front of Dominic and fills them to the brim, then nods, smiles and walks away without words. I watch Dominic elegantly pick up the glass and sip from it, though I won’t do the same. I want a clear head. I turn to Jimmy as Dominic has his drink.

“How are you feeling? How are your ribs?” I want to reach out and touch him, grab his wrist and hold his hand while we talk. I’m worried about him, but I don’t dare anger Dominic.

“I’m fine. The wound is healing. Just have to get to business now.”

“You don’t have to do this, Jimmy. It’s very dangerous.” I reach for him, and Dominic clears his throat. The way he adjusts his coat reveals the Glock holstered against his chest under his arm. I swallow hard and sit back, nervously picking up my wine glass without thinking. I take a sip as Dominic speaks.

“The job will be done, and I warned you not to cause a scene, Nanette. You’re here for one reason only.” He closes his coat and leans forward with a sinister smile on his face. I don’t know what purpose he has in bringing me to dinner with him and Jimmy if I’m not allowed to speak my mind.

The wine is good, and strong too. After only a few sips I am feeling a tingle in my neck and shoulders. I hate that it’s so good because I don’t want to get drunk, but I want to drink more. Jimmy and Dominic dive off into a conversation about things I don’t understand. It’s mostly code talking but I know they are speaking about the job. I try to distract myself by studying the room, but the people here seem pretentious. Not at all my crowd. Their pinkies are in the air, and I’d sooner break them off than join them.

“Nan!” Jimmy snaps in a harsh whisper. The waiter is there, ready to slide my plate in front of me, but my elbows are on the table, and I am in the way. I sit back hastily, offering an embarrassed expression.

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