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Emma turned her head to smile at him behind the wheel. “Home, Jeeves.”
He pulled out. “Home it is. Is there somewhere near your house where I can pick up dinner?”
“You like Italian?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Okay, there’s a place right around the corner from me. Makes great pasta all’Amatriciana, pumpkin risotto, chicken cacciatore, tiramisu to die for.”
Raul narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “That sounded really authentic. You sure you don’t speak Italian?”
She smiled. “Nope. Promise. I’m a decent mimic, though, and I’ve heard Raffaello pronounce those words a thousand times.”
Now he frowned, making a production of it. “Raffaello, huh? Who’s this Raffaello? Is he good-looking? Because the only good-looking ethnic guy you can have around you is me.”
Emma laughed, as he wanted her to. “Down boy. Raffaello is authentically Italian, from near Milan, and in his way good-looking. He also weighs 300 pounds, and is very happily married to Cristina who greets customers atMilano, and they have three kids. His eldest works as a waiter there.”
“Good enough. Here.” He handed her his cell. “Put in the coordinates of the restaurant. If you know what you want, call in the order. I’ll eat anything you order. Make sure you get enough food, I’m starving.” He batted his eyelashes at her. “I’m a growing boy. I need sustenance.”
Emma rolled her eyes, put a pin in a map of the financial district for him and called. And ordered enough food to feed an army. Great. Raul loved leftovers. As she finished the order and started to swipe the call closed, he closed his hand over hers. “Uh-uh. Not so fast, slick. They’ll have your credit card number. Use mine, instead.” And handed her his card.
Emma sighed, gave them his number, then swiped the phone closed. “At some point you’re going to have to let me pay for something.”
He made a noncommittal noise. “When it’s all over, you can buy me a Maserati.”
She laughed. “Not likely, especially not if I’m going to lose my job.”
Raul ground his teeth together to keep himself from saying –The job is gone. You can’t go back to your job. You’re coming back with me to Portland. Where you’ll be safe. Where my bosses will welcome you with open arms. And Hope and Felicity will be overjoyed.
Not the time to say that. Not yet. But soon.
13
She was exhausted. Emma felt like she had been pummeled, stomped on and then passed through a wringer. It wasn’t physical, it was mental and even emotional. Seeing what had been done to Toby was like a punch to the stomach. She and Toby – all the quants actually – were used to taking risks but they were all cerebral risks. Monetary risks. Bet on this new tech, abandon that old tech. China up, Russia down. That kind of thing. It never even occurred to her that they could run old-fashioned risks, in meatspace. In the real world.
But there he was – Toby. Who’d been kidnapped, drugged, hidden. Who even knew if they’d have let him live if Raul hadn’t gone in to rescue him?
This was an entirely new world, one she didn’t like.
But the shock of what happened to Toby had to take a back seat to trying to discoverwhyhe’d been targeted. Raul had done his thing and had been incredibly smart and brave. So, she and Toby had to do their thing and figure out what had happened. But they’d fallen flat on their faces.
Something was happening on the market. There was massive short selling but not on specific types of stocks. Most was centered around Pacific Investment Bank, but not all. Ten hours of close study of the data that tied her brain around in knots and that’s all they had.
She pressed her back against the headrest and closed her eyes.
And opened them to find Raul gently shaking her. They were in her garage. And the entire vehicle smelled divine, full of Raffaello’s food in containers and bags that filled the back seat.
Wow. They’d crossed town, Raul had had time to stop by Raffaello’s, pick up dinner – what looked like about ten dinners – and she’d slept through it all.
Emma sighed. “I’m so sorry. I just conked out on you. I don’t remember ever doing that. I’m used to working in intense stints, but I just –” she shrugged helplessly.
“No problem.” Raul came around to the passenger door and helped her down. To her amazement she needed his steady hand. He opened the back door and gathered all the bags. It looked like he was moving to Australia, carrying his own food.
She reached out. “Let me give you a hand with those.”
“Nope. Got it.” Amazingly, he had a free elbow to offer her. She took it. It wasn’t fun, feeling unsteady on her feet, but holding on to Raul meant she wasn’t going to fall. In no universe, if she were holding on to Raul, would she fall.
In the elevator, they both drew in a deep breath, as the aromas of Raffaello’s cooking filled the small space.
