2

      DOMINIC CORLUCCI HAD to work hard to keep the smile off his face. A woman like that? She could make a man forget a lot.

      However, Dominic’s memories were too well ingrained to forget anything. Self-preservation was his number-one priority now. The only reason he had kissed her was to stave off unnecessary questions; his companion saw one use in a woman and one use only.

      Maybe that was his only reason, or maybe she aroused his curiosity—among other things.

      He watched her walk away, an exaggerated swing in her hips that didn’t look normal. He didn’t know who she was, but he did know that something reeked of a setup. That worried him.

      “So I was telling Louise, ‘Louise,’ I said, ‘I’m not ready to settle down. If you’re looking for a man to play house with, then you need to be finding greener pastures.’”

      Dom turned his attention away from the puzzle of the retreating female and back to the job at hand. Namely Frankie “Lumpy” DeCarlo.

      “Yeah, females ain’t nothing but trouble,” he muttered, trying to figure her angle.

      “Amen. Who’s the legs?”

      “A potential sheet warmer. Need to try her on for size.” He cracked his knuckles for effect.

      The big man considered it for a moment, rubbing his chin. “I’d do her.”

      Dom stretched in the damned little seat, all casual, a man having a cup of coffee, nothing more. “You seen her around before?”

      Frankie scratched his head. “You know, she looks a little like Big Jake’s ex, but that one—and she was trouble, I tell you—didn’t wear no glasses. Odd look, the glasses and all.”

      Definitely odd. Dom didn’t trust anybody. A man got real dead, real fast that way. “Yeah, but it’s kinda cute, don’t you think?”

      “Me, I like my women stacked. A man needs something to hold on to.”

      Dom gave Frankie a sideways look. “I bet you have all the women panting after you.”

      Frankie gave him a palms-up. “All my problems can be attributed to slow horses and fast women. I’m a veritable babe in the woods compared to you lothario types.”

      Dom kept silent. It helped his image when he didn’t talk about women; he just smiled mysteriously every now and then. Made everybody wonder. He smiled now, the smile of a man remembering his last good lay.

      “I haven’t seen Johnny C. around lately,” he said, casually changing the subject. “Where’s he gone? Sold us out for those guys back east?”

      “Don’t know. Vinny’s been keeping quiet lately.” Frankie looked around, watching the other people in the store. “Let’s go to Dilly’s place.”

      Dilly’s place was a good sign. Dom hadn’t yet been invited to the more sacrosanct confines, and if he was getting an invitation now, that meant Frankie was starting to trust him.

      That might be the perfect time to pitch his ATM scam. Nothing obvious or too eager. Cast the floater out and then just skim the line back and forth over the surface.

      Dom uncurled his legs and stood. That was the bitch of these little places. A tall man needed a place to stretch out.

      He caught the eye of the street cop that walked in the door. Badge 271. They’d been in the Academy together. Dom shrugged into his jacket, keeping his face turned away. The cops didn’t worry him as much as the attorneys. Cops knew to keep their mouths shut. But an attorney? Slimeballs who were paid to yap. Still, as he walked past 271, he kept his face firmly in the shadows. Big Frankie didn’t notice at all.

      MICKEY CAUGHT HER reflection in the rearview mirror, just as she hit the highway to Batavia. She had forgotten to rub off her eyeliner. Not that anyone would notice. Nobody really noticed her looks except when she was dolled up, either as a bridesmaid, or a bimbo.

      Neither of which was her.

      No, guys like Dominic Corlucci would never notice Mickey in the world that she lived in.

      He was the polar opposite of Slimeball Intern Monihan and a hell of a kisser. Her lips were still tingling from the effects, and if she closed her eyes she could still recall the centrifugal force that was buzzing between her legs.

      Times like this, a woman could be glad that the man was a gangster. It made him oh so easy to resist.

      Definitely trouble. In fact, by the time she’d made it to the triple-axe sculpture that bridged high over the entrance to the lab, she had made up her mind. No point in endangering her loins or her life. She could just forget about Dominic Corlucci altogether.

      I’m not going to be disappointed about it, either, she thought sternly to herself and to all body parts that reverberated whenever his magnetic field snapped its fingers.

      She slid her badge into the front-door locks and went inside the long narrow corridors. Astrophysical Sciences Research Center. This was her home. Sometimes it still overwhelmed her. Quarks, tau neutrino, hell, even the Internet was conceived of here, contrary to what the politicians thought. These were the discoveries that rocked the world.

      These discoveries were the very building blocks of the universe. People never appreciated the simplicity of the atom and all its components. Such a small, simple body, so powerful yet so overlooked.

      And Mickey knew just how that felt.

      Her sneakers squeaked as she walked down the halls where Lederman had walked. The seventh floor of the high-rise was where she did her work, and she found her way to the small, functional desk in the back of the pen.

      She worked on the Sloan Digital Sky Survey, which she considered her own personal heaven. Mapping out the cosmos with pictures and light. That was all Mickey had ever wanted to do—work with the stars.

      Every morning the schedule was the same, even if she came in late, which she was today. The great thing about research was that most scientists kept odd hours. Inspiration couldn’t be scheduled, nor could experiments that took three years to complete.

      She turned on her computer and checked e-mail first. Empty. Next, just because she was a creature of habit, she checked to see who was online.

      Chao: Unavailable.

      Dr. Lindstrom: Available.

      J.: Unavailable.

      Yeah, Jessica was off having a honeymoon in China. Dejected, Mickey rolled back in her chair. Mountain climbing, which was about the silliest thing that Mickey had ever heard. Her ideal honeymoon would involve a trip to Geneva to see CERN and possibly some sightseeing. Then a long week in the hotel, with room service and HBO.

      In