Page 43 of Taking Care of the Target

A lot of threads led to Cassandra Dalton—too many to be a coincidence. With Mancini made, Jim would have to find a time when she wasn’t with Vince DaMarco. Maybe he’d swing by that restaurant where she worked, see how much she knew about her boyfriend. If she was clueless, he’d shed a little light on the situation. That should motivate her to help, but if she ended up being in on it, he’d find a way to exploit that, too.

No more being scared to make a move for fear of spooking Carlo Rossi and his boys. It was time to take things to the next level. Create a little chaos, let the sharks circle, and as soon as they got a drop of evidence, attack with everything they had.

Chapter Twenty

Even though he highly doubted he’d see anyone he knew in this neighborhood, Vince still did a quick sweep of the restaurant as the hostess led him and Cassie to a table.

Her sexy black dress clung to her curves, and her strappy heels made her several inches taller, adding extra definition to her amazing legs. He helped her into a chair and angled his seat so he could see the entrance like the paranoid lunatic he was becoming. That was what happened when you suspected the “private investigator” wasn’t completely honest. That guy reeked of cop. Fresh cop, but still.

Some cops went the P.I. route, but usually after years of being on the force. His story about a classmate trying to find Cassie didn’t make sense, either. Yes, she’d moved and had a new phone, but surely they’d have her email address. Even if they didn’t, what college kid would shell out money to find a girl who suddenly stopped going to class? Unless it was some dude who was madly in love with her, which he had no problem buying, but Vince figured he would’ve stopped by the restaurant to find her, and he would’ve definitely noticed that. Same thing if she had a close girlfriend.

The guy’s story didn’t add up. The question was, had he been watching Cassie to get to him, or just trying to get to Cassie? And why?

I shouldn’t have questioned him in front of her. What would I have done if the guy said Carlo sent him?But his uncle would never send a pig, even a former one. Vince had been too focused on finding out who he was to think things through.

Something’s not right.

“Hey? Where’d you go?” Cassie asked, waving a hand in front of him.

“That’s my line,” he said before remembering it wasn’t anymore, because last time it triggered a déjà vu sensation from her.

“And zoning out is usually my thing.”

He reached across the table and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. The thin straps of her dress looked like they’d snap with a quick tug, and he desperately wanted to try it, even as he reminded himself he shouldn’t. The bright pink necklace matched the inside of her glasses and her attention-grabbing shade of lipstick. “Well, I’m back now, and holy shit is my date hot.”

A blush crept across her cheeks. “The glasses don’t ruin the effect?” She pushed them up her nose. “Do you think I’d look better with contacts? Then the glasses wouldn’t get in the way, say, when we were kissing, either.”

No more watching her slide her glasses up her nose? He liked it when they were slightly crooked after he kissed her, too. He’d seen her without them, of course, like when she took them off to clean the lenses with her shirt, so he knew it was a win-win. He also knew enough about women to tread lightly.

“I think you’re sexy withandwithout them.” Would she find the hot librarian comparison a compliment, or would she be offended? When in doubt, avoid. “And I’m a good enough kisser to work around them,” he joked. “But whatever makes you happy.”

“I know tons of people have contacts, and—in theory—I’d get used to them, but it really icks me out thinking of sticking my finger in my eye and having this object floating around in there.”

“Then keep the glasses. Like I said, hot.”

A waiter came and took their food order. Once he left, Cassie leaned in, testing the straps of her dress. “So, since I had a bit of a crap day at work, I started thinking more about your suggestion, and I looked into culinary schools. Get this, if I went to the Culinary Institute of America, I could say I graduated from the CIA. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

He grinned and then quickly glanced around. Yeah, as long as no one he knew thought the CIA was getting involved, it was cool. “Can CIA people date guys like me? I doubt it.”

She laughed, her eyes sparkling. “It’s a four year program, but at least I’d be working toward a career I like instead of just spinning my wheels. The CIA is in New York, though. As are most of the other culinary schools.” Her smile faded. “New York’s over an hour away. It’d be a long commute from here, even with Amtrack, so…”

The way she looked at him made it clear she was factoring him into her decision. The best possible thing for her was to get far, far away from here. “Are there other locations?”

“California or Texas.”

“Those places are nice and warm. I bet the cost of living is less than New York. At least in Texas. Probably less crime, too.”

She nodded, her disappointment clear. “But I’d miss fall. And crime-free cities are a fairy tale.” She fiddled with the linen napkin on the table. “I-I get that New York would be expensive, and it’s a bit of a drive, but…”

When it came to getting away from the mess with his uncle, her moving was the perfect solution. Out of sight, out of mind. He should not, under any circumstances, think about how it meant she’d be far away from him, where he could never check on her.

He thought about that moment in the Jeep when she said,“I see you. The real you. Even if you don’t.”

She’d slayed him all over again, slicing his chest right open. He was afraid she did and didn’t all at the same time. He wanted to be who she saw, but he just wasn’t, and he didn’t know how to break it to her. Especially when she’d seen at least some of the evidence and, by some amazing miracle, hadn’t run.

The waiter chose that moment to bring their food, dragging out the elephant in the room to the point it was standing on the table between them. Once they were alone again, he reclaimed her hand.

“I think we should go,” he said. “California or Texas. When can we leave?”

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