Hell on the Heart by Nancy Brophy Read Free Book Online

comfortable cape. John worked in DC, land of powerful men. Without a doubt they would not only fit right in, but would be influential in the right circles. Armadillo Creek, Texas was the least likely place for these men to appear. Yet, seeing them reminded him, the men they sought would be able to hide in plain sight also. And had been doing it for years.
    The shorter man with an easy grin and graying temples assumed control. Both refrained from stepping close enough to shake hands. “Luca Romney.” He tilted his head in greeting. “My brother, Nicholae, understands English better than he speaks it, so unless you have a specific question addressed to him I will speak.”
    “Agent John Stillwater and Agent D’Sean Lassiter, FBI.” The men flashed their badges in unison. John immediately took charge of the conversation. “Armadillo Creek had a murder Friday night. The Sheriff’s office believes you,” he hesitated, not wanted to use the phrase ‘you gypsies’. He wouldn’t have liked the phrase ‘you Indians’ and Lassiter would have thought the words ‘you blacks’ were a call to battle. “Were you witnesses?”
    Both men crooked one corner of their lips in the same fashion. “I have no idea why the Sheriff’s office thinks that,” Luca said. Neither man appeared the least upset by the question.
    Instead, Luca spoke directly to D’Sean. “My sister apologizes if she upset you. She’s very good at guessing problems of the…” He and his brother exchanged a glance and they spoke rapidly in a guttural language. “…problems of a physical nature. She spoke only from the heart and did not mean to startle you.”
    D’Sean shrugged like it meant little to him, but the lie failed to convince, when he asked, “How did she know about my mother?”
    Luca shrugged. “All my life I’ve wondered the same question. Women in our family keep their secrets.”
    The gypsies worried him. Their sister bordered on frumpy, yet these men could poise for the cover of GQ. Nicholae with his silver hair and suave demeanor gave no impression of following the conversation, but John doubted he missed a thing. In fact of the two men, it was the silent Nicholae, John sensed was the real man in charge.
    “Are all your employees family?” John asked, trying to draw an org chart in his mind. When Luca nodded, John continued as the men took seats around the table. “How many?”
    “Only the three you’ve met…”
    Maniacal feminine laughter drifted through the closed door. Both the gypsy men lowered their gazes to the floor in a poor attempt to shield their amusement. “And occasionally Norman Bates’ mother joins us.”
    The door flung open and a small pixie with a purple dew rag tied around her head, orange safety goggles and an oversized lab coat burst in. “I knew I could do it.”
    John was surprised by the lyrical tone emitting from a body no taller than that of a twelve-year-old. If she’d worn a towel as a cape and announced she was a superhero, it would have appeared in character. Both John and D’Sean rose out of politeness.
    “The fluming chamber worked.” She did a half circular dance and came to a dead stop in front of the two agents. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were occupied.” Her dimples disappeared.
    “Agents Stillwater and Lassiter are here from the FBI,” Luca said, rising also.
    The pixie made a dubious sound and spun on her heel to leave. “No, they’re not.”
    Luca spread his hands in a surprised gesture. “They showed us ID.”
    “I’m sure they did,” she threw her words over her shoulder and departed as quickly as she’d appeared.
    “Norman Bates’ mother?” Sarcasm dripped from Stillwater’s lips. “AKA Cezi?”
    Luca nodded, but for the first time Nicholae spoke, “Czigany.” His firm tone declared FBPA agents were not allowed to use an affectionate nickname. No need to ask which man was her father.
    “Czigany,” Stillwater repeated. The name beaded on his tongue and