Page 76 of Above ’N’ Beyond

Jamie searched the street in both directions, then followed Bella and Jax to her front door. It was eleven o’clock and, aside from the occasional rustle of leaves in the tall oak trees surrounding the property, the neighborhood was quiet.

That didn’t stop him from looking over his shoulder. He half expected Marco to jump from the bushes and bury something sharp in his back. If it weren’t for Jax’s warning, Ianetti might very well have caught him talking to Jenkins about the Palumbos.

It was every undercover’s paranoia that his or her cover had been blown, and he couldn’t shake off that feeling no matter how hard he tried. Yet Ianetti hadn’t said a word. If the man knew something, he would have outed Jamie in less time than it took to squeeze a trigger. The rest of the evening had passed quietly and without any discussion of business.

Bella unlocked the door and went inside. Jax strolled in as if he belonged there and went right up to Gnocchi’s crate. The force of the puppy’s tail whipping back and forth actually rocked the crate.

“I’d better get him outside before he pees.” Bella unlatched the crate and caught Gnocchi as he all but jumped into her arms.

The next ten minutes passed in relative silence as they let Gnocchi and Jax frolic and do their business in the backyard.

When they were back in the house, he closed the door behind them. He was itching to check the receiver in the Tahoe and find out if the necklace had recorded anything useful. But something had been bugging Bella at the party, and he wanted to know what.

“You okay?” he asked. She dropped her shawl over the back of the sofa, revealing smooth bare shoulders he wished he had time to kiss and stroke all night. “Paola?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Nothing new there.”

“Then what is?” He didn’t like seeing frown lines on her forehead. If she needed to talk—about anything—he’d be her sounding board any time of the day or night.

Rather than answer him, she went into the kitchen and filled a bowl with water. Jamie followed then leaned against the counter, watching the play of expressions on her face. She finished filling the bowl and set it on the floor for the dogs, who immediately set about lapping loudly.

The lines on Bella’s forehead deepened as she watched him. “Who are you?”

Oh, shit. “What do you mean?”

“Marco said you’re not who you say you are.”

Time to derail that train of thought and fast. “Marco’s problem is he sees me moving in on you, and he doesn’t like it.” That was part of the man’s problem. Not all of it.

Still frowning, she asked, “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

No. “Positive.”

“Are you?” Her lips quirked. “Moving in on me?”

“I shouldn’t.” What he should do was leave. Now. Execute a crisp about-face, walk straight out the door, and go check that receiver.

“Why not?” she asked softly.

The answer hit him. Bluntly. He would always be tainted by danger and darkness, never able to erase the stain of who and what he was. She was a shining light in his filthy world, and she deserved better.

Bella was a woman with guts, backbone. Someone who watched out for her employees as if they were family. Someone who brought meals to food pantries in the middle of the night, and who rescued stray puppies. In short, she was a bastion of morality he could never live up to.

“Bella,” he began, struggling to find a way to say what he had to without giving anything away. “Marco was right. I’m not who you think I am.”

Her brows drew together. “Then tell me. Who are you?”

“I’m not a good person, and you deserve better.” The truth sucked.

She shook her head. “But you are a good person. Think about all the nice things you’ve done for me.”

“Like what?” he asked, unable to keep from glancing at the necklace he’d given her. Seemed like everything he’d done lately had an ulterior motive designed to benefit him or the FBI.

“You bought me a crate for Gnocchi and all kinds of puppy supplies. You pulled ticks off him, for Pete’s sake, then helped me give him a bath. You fixed my air conditioner. You’ve been filling in at the Bistro and haven’t taken a dime.”

He shrugged. “That’s because I’m staying here rent-free.”

“On Tony’s orders,” she countered. “That’s my point. You didn’t owe me anything, but you stepped up at the Bistro anyway. You’re not like Tony and his boys. You’re good and honest. You’re different.”