The P.I.

He closed the door behind him and waited until he heard the lock click before he hurried up the stairs. He nearly ran into Nik at the top.

“What are you doing here?” They spoke in unison.

“Aren’t you busy with the case?” Kit added.

Nik scowled at him. “Parker took me off it. He’s going to head up the investigation himself. Turns out the caterer, J. C. Riley, is the mayor’s daughter. Since she can identify the man who shot the priest, the commissioner and her father want her protected twenty-four-seven. Parker picked me for the job.”

Kit’s eyebrows shot up. “The woman you handcuffed to the radiator is the mayor’s daughter?”

He glared. “I don’t care if she’s the president’s daughter. She refused to stay put, and she wouldn’t shut up and I had a crime scene to investigate. And how do you know I handcuffed her?”

Kit raised both hands, palms out. “I went out through the sacristy. You told me to take the back stairs, remember?”

Nik huffed out a breath. “Yeah, yeah.”

Kit studied his brother. To his knowledge, Nik had never had a problem with a woman in his life. He could be tough when dealing with a female suspect, but he had always operated very smoothly with the opposite sex. Since Nik was three years his senior, Kit had learned a lot from observing his brother’s techniques. The redheaded caterer had definitely rubbed him the wrong way.

“So you brought her here?” Kit asked. He could understand that. He’d done the same thing with Drew.

“The commissioner’s right about one thing,” Nik said. “She can ID one of the shooters, and he’ll want to eliminate her.”

Just then, the pretty caterer poked her head out of Nik’s door. “Hey, Slick, I’m starving here.” She beamed a smile at Kit. “Hi there, good cop.”

“Hi.” Kit handed the grocery bag to Nik. “Aunt Cass had a feeling you’d be in need of food.”

“Of course she did.” Nik carried the bag to the mayor’s daughter. “I think you’ll find everything you need. I’ll be just a minute.”

When the door closed, Kit said, “Slick?”

“Good cop?” Nik strode back to his brother, his eyes narrowing.

Kit raised his hands again as Nik backed him into a wall. “All I did was ask her a few questions. I swear.”

When Nik drew back, Kit asked, “You got any new info about what went on at the church?”

“Anything specific you’re interested in?”

“Has Father Mike been questioned?”

“I don’t have any news on that yet,” Nik said with a scowl.

“Have you ID’d the man who was shot in the sacristy?”

“Gino DeLucca, Paulo Carlucci’s bodyguard. And the bullet that killed him probably came from Roman’s gun. Ballistics hasn’t confirmed it yet, but the make of the gun matches the bullet. Parker will use that as evidence that Roman came to stop the wedding.”

“If Roman shot DeLucca, it was in self-defense,” Kit said. “Or to protect Juliana. The only thing that makes sense is that someone besides Roman got wind of the wedding and tried to put a stop to it.”

“I tend to agree, but Parker and the commissioner are favoring exactly what I told you at the church—Roman got wind of the wedding, became furious with his sister and came to stop it. They’ll figure he brought some firepower with him and Paulo pushed him over the railing of those stairs.”

“What happened to the bride and groom?”

“They haven’t shown up yet.”

“Any word about Sadie?”

“No.”

“What about the mystery woman?”

“No word on her, either.”

“Roman might have come to stop the wedding. But he wouldn’t bring armed men with him and he wouldn’t have given orders to shoot the priest. Someone else is behind this.”

Nik put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You know that and I know that.”

“I went to see him at the hospital.”

Nik’s hand tightened.

“He doesn’t look good,” Kit continued. “And I hate the fact that he’s lying there defenseless while a case is being built against him. Theo called and I filled him in.”

Nik met his eyes steadily. “We’re going to find out what really happened.”

Kit studied him for a moment. “You’re not going to stay out of it, are you?”

He flashed a grin. “Hell, no. Not any more than you are, bro. Roman’s like a part of this family. Besides, anyone who can beat our Theo at tennis is all right.” Then his expression sobered. “I want to find out who’s behind this as much as you do. There’s a lot we don’t know yet. And I’m beginning to think that the mystery blonde who arrived with the bride holds the key.” Nik paused, then added, “What? Did you find something out about the blonde?”

Nik’s eyes were altogether too sharp, Kit decided. “No. I’m as interested in her as you are. First thing in the morning, I think I’ll try to track down her identity.”

“Good idea. Keep me informed.” He strode to his door, then glanced back. “And wish me luck.”

“Me, too,” Kit replied as he turned and descended the stairs.

AFTER LOCKING THE DOOR, Drew paced the room. Her mind was so filled with worries and fears that her head was spinning. Kit had discovered quite a bit at the church. There’d been at least one other shooter—the man who’d shot the priest. And Kit had said she was probably a friend of the bride. It made sense that if she’d shot someone, it was to protect Juliana or herself. If so, the person she’d put a bullet into was probably a bad guy. She’d feel a lot better about it if she’d shot a bad guy.

Drew glanced at the tote that she’d set down near the door. That nice little scenario didn’t take into account the money. Or why she’d fled from the scene.

No. She was not going to let her imagination run wild again. The facts. Hadn’t Kit told her to stick to the facts? In the jumble of information and possibilities, the one and only thing they were sure of was that someone was after her. And that argued that she’d gotten on the wrong side of some bad guys. The good news and bad news all rolled into one.

Crossing to the coffee table, she picked up her wine and took a sip. She’d have to remember to laugh at that some day. And there would be a “some day” when she’d know who she was, a day when she’d get her life back.

Maybe she could hurry it along. Sinking down on the arm of the couch, Drew closed her eyes and tried to summon up what she knew about that room in the church. Shadows, darkness, the musty scent…

The smell of old books had the panic bubbling in her stomach. She felt the cold metal of the gun against her palm, pictured the door opening slowly. Fear snaked through her, numbing her mind, freezing her blood. The ache in her head began to build. She willed it away, and tried to see who else was there…but it was too dark and she could feel her finger squeezing the trigger.

Pain knifed through her head, and she pressed her fingers to her temples to ease it. Gritting her teeth, she ordered more details to appear, but the memory didn’t get any clearer and the pain grew steadily worse. Unable to stand it anymore, she opened her eyes and blinked to clear her vision.

Bookshelves. She was in Kit’s apartment, and the wall in front of her was filled with books, framed pictures and odds and ends. The details of a person’s life.

A photo caught her attention. It was a picture of Kit standing on a dock with a fishing pole in his hand. He was bent over so far that it nearly touched the water. His feet were planted wide on the dock and there was tension in every line and angle of his body. Whoever had snapped the photo had captured a battle at its peak. And from the look on Kit’s face, she guessed that he’d won it. He was a man you could depend on to see things through.

In the framed photo next to it, she recognized Philly in a cap and gown with Spiro on one side of her and Cass on the other. Kit stood to the left of his father and two other men stood to the right of Cass. They had to be Kit’s brothers. One of them was shorter than the other two and could best be described as rugged. The other brother was taller and his looks bordered on the pretty. She suspected his suit was Italian, and he had the polished look of a male model. Kit and the rugged-looking man were dressed more casually in khaki slacks and sport coats.

Any way you sliced it, the Angelis brothers were definitely lookers. And they belonged to a close-knit family. Was her family like that? Why couldn’t she remember them?

Struggling against a wave of frustration, Drew set the photo back on the shelf. Whoever she was, she’d deal with it. Hadn’t Kit said that she was a lady? She glanced down at her hands. She evidently took good care of herself. Had she been born into a fairly well-to-do family? Or was she a self-made woman?

She preferred the latter. She wanted very much to be independent, the kind of woman who made her own way, who didn’t lean on others too much for support.

Rising, she began to pace again. The truth was, her past was a blank. Her future was a blank. The only thing she had to judge herself against was right now.

And right now, her life was a mess. She was a mess. She knew enough to know that what was blocking her memory was fear. Each time she got close to something, it blindsided her. Did that mean she was a coward? Kit had said that she was cautious, but that she also had shown courage. True, she’d gone to his office. But what other choice did she have? And ditto for her “courage” in climbing on the motorcycle. All that proved was that when her back was to the wall, she’d take a risk. How about otherwise?