Disclaimer: Characters belong to the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Simon & Schuster. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: I really want to thank everyone who's sticking with the story and giving such kind reviews. I appreciate it very much. Pretty soon, you'll be able to catch this story at the Hardy Detective Agency website (www.hardydetectiveagency.com). Go check them out if you haven't already. I hope you enjoy this chapter, especially if you're into F/N;)
****
Bay of Peril
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
With her cell phone tucked between her bare shoulder and her ear, Nancy sifted baking powder into a stainless steel bowl with one hand and right-clicked her laptop's mouse over a link on the FBI's organized crime webpage with the other. She rolled her eyes at the irony, before brushing it aside.
"The realtor can't get my new key to me until tomorrow," she told George. "So I'm afraid I'll have to impose on you again, tonight."
"You know you're not an imposition, Nan. I'll probably be asleep, though."
"I'll be quiet." Nancy paused as she waited for the webpage to load. "It's been a really bad day, George."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"I will. Just not right now. I've got an investigation and a cobbler going." She forced a smile. "I refuse to leave this kitchen until I've made progress on both."
George's voice was concerned. "Are you all alone?"
"Yes, but I'm fine, I promise. The restaurant's all locked up. This is the only time I can do any real work on the case."
"Okay, just…be careful. We'll talk in the morning."
Nancy nodded. "Night, George." Her friend hung up and Nancy reached for her phone with the hand that wasn't covered in flour. As soon as she'd ended the call, another one came in, startling her slightly.
"George?" she asked.
"No, it's me. Frank."
She licked her lip and blinked. "Frank. Hi. Hello. What's going on?"
"Not much," he replied. "Except I'm sort of standing at the back entrance to Curacao. The locked back entrance to Curacao."
"You're here? Um…hold on." She wiped her floured-hand on the apron that covered her untucked shirt and wide-legged trousers and went to open the door. True to his word, Frank stood at the payphone in the back alley. Nancy closed up her cell, an amused smile on her face. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" she asked.
He hung up and walked towards her. "I was in the neighborhood."
"Old line, Hardy," Nancy replied, ushering him inside the kitchen. "Try again."
*I missed you.*
Frank cleared his throat. "A culmination of things. It's been an…interesting day."
"It has been." She paused. "Are you all right, Frank?"
He didn't have to pretend with Nancy, and so he shook his head. "I don't know. I've found bodies before, but this was different. I want to just shake it off." Frank lifted his broad shoulders. "I can't."
"I don't think you're supposed to. If it doesn't get to you, you've lost something precious." Without thinking, Nancy reached out and cupped his face with her hand. "I wouldn't want to see you lose that."
He closed his eyes for a brief moment in acknowledgement and a little shiver ran down Nancy's spine. His cheek was warm beneath her hand, ever so slightly stubbled and infinitely masculine. She had to let go right away.
When she abruptly pulled back, Frank touched his cheek; she'd left behind a fine smudge of powder on his skin. "Fingerprint dust?"
"Flour and baking powder," she laughed, relieved that the intense moment had passed. "I'm trying to bake a mango cobbler."
"Really?" Frank's gaze landed on her open laptop. "I didn't know that the FBI gave away their secret recipes without a fight."
Nancy bit her lip. "Oh, that. Well, the only good thing to come out of today was that I finally have a lead on the case."
"That makes two of us, then," he said, skimming the information on the screen. "Organized crime? All right, this is officially freaky."
"Freaky?"
Frank scrolled down on the page. "I think my friend's sponsors might be mob-related somehow."
"And I think that Curacao's investors might *be* the mob." Nancy drew in a short, sharp breath. "Frank, you don't think…"
"I gave up on believing in coincidences a long time ago," he murmured. "Are you looking for anything specific here?"
"Ossi Industries. That's the only name Victoria could give me."
"That's more than I could glean off of Patrick. Except a phone number."
Nancy picked up a mango from the end of the stainless steel counter and reached for a knife. "Have you tried calling it?"
"I want to know more before I do. I suspect it might be masked, or possibly just a public phone. I would be very surprised if I could trace it." He continued to scroll down, searching.
"We could call the phone company," she suggested, slicing into the exotic fruit.
Frank looked up, suddenly amused. "The thrill of the chase. There aren't many people in my life who appreciate it like you do, Nancy."
She stopped with her knife halfway through the mango. "Callie never liked it, did she?"
"She tolerated it," Frank replied after a moment. "Because it was something I loved. I suppose there's just some point where separate interests become separate lives." After another pause, he continued, "Ned's always been up for an adventure, though. Right?"
Nancy resumed her task, cutting with quiet efficiency. "If it were up to Ned, I'd be a normal, non-sleuthing girlfriend." She paused. "It doesn't matter though…we're breaking up."
"Nancy." Willing back hot tears, she turned her head just enough to see him over her shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?" He smiled weakly. "I'm your friend, you know."
"You're more than that," she whispered before she could stop herself. Her blue eyes grew wide and she quickly whipped back around. "So, on the off chance that Ossi Industries is somehow related to your friend's sponsors…"
She trailed off when she felt him come up behind her. "Nancy," Frank began again. He was so close that she could feel his solid warmth surrounding her. She braced herself. Was she ready to open this particular can of worms? Were either of them ready to have this conversation? Nancy closed her eyes and waited for him to go on.
"Is it 'Ossi' with one 's' or two?"
Her eyes flew open and something akin to relief washed over her. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. "Two," she replied. "I think." Frank moved back to the laptop and she stared down at the neat slices of mango she'd created. Somehow, Frank had known that they weren't ready and had acted accordingly. And while she was grateful, she was also…what? What was that nagging feeling peeking through the relief?
Disappointment?
Nancy shook her head and started turning the slices of mango into bite-sized pieces for the cobbler filling. Silent minutes passed as she sugared the mango to form a sweet glaze, and Frank searched the FBI's database.
"Ah-ha!" he finally said, startling her. "Ossi Industries is believed to be a cover for the Barilli syndicate which operates throughout most of the western United States, with ties to Southern Europe." His eyes whipped back and forth as he skimmed over the information. "They have their hands in everything…money laundering, prostitution, loan sharking…and several unsolved murders have been linked to them, but there's never been anything more than circumstantial evidence. The FBI has an entire task force on these guys, but they keep themselves very clean, presenting themselves as legitimate businessmen with investments and…and sponsorships. For tax purposes." Frank glanced away. "What has Patrick gotten himself into?"
"You don't know for sure that his sponsors aren't anything more than true philanthropists," Nancy said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Whether you believe in coincidences or not, there's no hard evidence yet." She sighed. "But Victoria…she got pulled into all of this without knowing about any of it. And I don't know how to tell her that her business partner was probably murdered by the mob."
Frank frowned. "Nancy, are you in any danger by working here? Because if they came after him, they might…"
"Victoria's the one who's in the most danger. They want something from her, and they've proven how far they'll go." She took a step back. "Perhaps I ought to contact that task force. I'm already being courted by the Bureau; might as well start making some enemies. Because really…who wants some college kid coming to them with more evidence than they've been able to come up with in…"
"The Bureau wants you, too?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye despite the situation. "They keep sending me brochures on how much I'll enjoy training at Quantico after graduation."
Nancy looked up at him. "Are you going to accept the invitation?"
"I haven't decided yet. Are you?"
She shook her head slightly. "I'm not sure. There are so many things to consider."
He agreed, "Yeah. It's a huge decision. A permanent one. You have to go with what will make you happiest…because it's your life. You can't live it for anyone else."
"Frank? Are we talking about the FBI anymore?"
"Honestly?" He never broke their stare; they were so close that either one of them could have made the first move. "I don't know."
Nancy wet her lips nervously. "Whatever this is between us, Frank…"
"Hey." Frank gave her a soft smile. "There's time, Nancy. We don't have to rush this. Whatever this is…I want to do it right. It's important to me."
She lowered her gaze, nodding. After brushing away the tears that caught in her lashes, Nancy lifted her head. "Thank you, Frank."
"Let's keep searching. My gut tells me that Patrick needs help." Frank put a hand to his stomach. "But before we do that…I don't suppose there's anything to eat around this kitchen, is there?"
"You didn't eat?"
"I don't consider McDonald's real food."
Nancy laughed. "Fast food snob." She looked around. "Here. Try some of the filling and tell me what you think." Reaching into the bowl, she pulled out a sugared piece of mango.
Frank held up his hands. "I don't want to get your laptop all sticky."
"I don't…well…" She hesitated. "All right, open up." Nancy fed him the piece of fruit; he chewed and swallowed. "Good?"
"Sweet." His long fingers circled her slender wrist, bringing her fingers up to his mouth. He kissed each of them, tasting the sugar that lingered on her skin. "Sweeter."
Nancy's heart beat at the base of her throat. She tried to swallow, but found that she couldn't. "Frank…"
He dropped her wrist and slid his hands into her hair, drawing her face towards his. "I know." His voice was thick and deep. "Slow."
Her eyelids fluttered when he brushed his lips across hers. She could taste the mango, but more than that, she could taste Frank. They'd kissed before, but this was different somehow. She'd always felt too guilty to really enjoy the soft pressure of his lips, too confused to appreciate the way his mouth melded perfectly with hers. But not right then. Right then, she just wanted to relax into him…and forget that the rest of the world even existed.
The shrill, insistent bleating of an alarm broke them apart. "What is it?" Frank asked, tilting his head up.
"The fire alarm!" Nancy touched her lips where she could still feel his kiss, before glancing around. "I don't see smoke. Do you see…" She gasped and pointed at the swinging door that led out into the restaurant. Curls of white-grey smoke snaked up at the threshold. "Frank!! It's out front!"
"Stay here!"
"I don't think so, Hardy!" She grabbed his hand and together they ran for the door. It was cool to the touch, so Frank pushed it open. Thick clouds of smoke hit them; instantly, they both began to cough.
Nancy blinked her eyes rapidly and tried to peer through the haze. What she saw was nothing short of horrifying. Victoria's restaurant…Victoria's dream was on fire.
****
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: I really want to thank everyone who's sticking with the story and giving such kind reviews. I appreciate it very much. Pretty soon, you'll be able to catch this story at the Hardy Detective Agency website (www.hardydetectiveagency.com). Go check them out if you haven't already. I hope you enjoy this chapter, especially if you're into F/N;)
****
Bay of Peril
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
With her cell phone tucked between her bare shoulder and her ear, Nancy sifted baking powder into a stainless steel bowl with one hand and right-clicked her laptop's mouse over a link on the FBI's organized crime webpage with the other. She rolled her eyes at the irony, before brushing it aside.
"The realtor can't get my new key to me until tomorrow," she told George. "So I'm afraid I'll have to impose on you again, tonight."
"You know you're not an imposition, Nan. I'll probably be asleep, though."
"I'll be quiet." Nancy paused as she waited for the webpage to load. "It's been a really bad day, George."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"I will. Just not right now. I've got an investigation and a cobbler going." She forced a smile. "I refuse to leave this kitchen until I've made progress on both."
George's voice was concerned. "Are you all alone?"
"Yes, but I'm fine, I promise. The restaurant's all locked up. This is the only time I can do any real work on the case."
"Okay, just…be careful. We'll talk in the morning."
Nancy nodded. "Night, George." Her friend hung up and Nancy reached for her phone with the hand that wasn't covered in flour. As soon as she'd ended the call, another one came in, startling her slightly.
"George?" she asked.
"No, it's me. Frank."
She licked her lip and blinked. "Frank. Hi. Hello. What's going on?"
"Not much," he replied. "Except I'm sort of standing at the back entrance to Curacao. The locked back entrance to Curacao."
"You're here? Um…hold on." She wiped her floured-hand on the apron that covered her untucked shirt and wide-legged trousers and went to open the door. True to his word, Frank stood at the payphone in the back alley. Nancy closed up her cell, an amused smile on her face. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" she asked.
He hung up and walked towards her. "I was in the neighborhood."
"Old line, Hardy," Nancy replied, ushering him inside the kitchen. "Try again."
*I missed you.*
Frank cleared his throat. "A culmination of things. It's been an…interesting day."
"It has been." She paused. "Are you all right, Frank?"
He didn't have to pretend with Nancy, and so he shook his head. "I don't know. I've found bodies before, but this was different. I want to just shake it off." Frank lifted his broad shoulders. "I can't."
"I don't think you're supposed to. If it doesn't get to you, you've lost something precious." Without thinking, Nancy reached out and cupped his face with her hand. "I wouldn't want to see you lose that."
He closed his eyes for a brief moment in acknowledgement and a little shiver ran down Nancy's spine. His cheek was warm beneath her hand, ever so slightly stubbled and infinitely masculine. She had to let go right away.
When she abruptly pulled back, Frank touched his cheek; she'd left behind a fine smudge of powder on his skin. "Fingerprint dust?"
"Flour and baking powder," she laughed, relieved that the intense moment had passed. "I'm trying to bake a mango cobbler."
"Really?" Frank's gaze landed on her open laptop. "I didn't know that the FBI gave away their secret recipes without a fight."
Nancy bit her lip. "Oh, that. Well, the only good thing to come out of today was that I finally have a lead on the case."
"That makes two of us, then," he said, skimming the information on the screen. "Organized crime? All right, this is officially freaky."
"Freaky?"
Frank scrolled down on the page. "I think my friend's sponsors might be mob-related somehow."
"And I think that Curacao's investors might *be* the mob." Nancy drew in a short, sharp breath. "Frank, you don't think…"
"I gave up on believing in coincidences a long time ago," he murmured. "Are you looking for anything specific here?"
"Ossi Industries. That's the only name Victoria could give me."
"That's more than I could glean off of Patrick. Except a phone number."
Nancy picked up a mango from the end of the stainless steel counter and reached for a knife. "Have you tried calling it?"
"I want to know more before I do. I suspect it might be masked, or possibly just a public phone. I would be very surprised if I could trace it." He continued to scroll down, searching.
"We could call the phone company," she suggested, slicing into the exotic fruit.
Frank looked up, suddenly amused. "The thrill of the chase. There aren't many people in my life who appreciate it like you do, Nancy."
She stopped with her knife halfway through the mango. "Callie never liked it, did she?"
"She tolerated it," Frank replied after a moment. "Because it was something I loved. I suppose there's just some point where separate interests become separate lives." After another pause, he continued, "Ned's always been up for an adventure, though. Right?"
Nancy resumed her task, cutting with quiet efficiency. "If it were up to Ned, I'd be a normal, non-sleuthing girlfriend." She paused. "It doesn't matter though…we're breaking up."
"Nancy." Willing back hot tears, she turned her head just enough to see him over her shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?" He smiled weakly. "I'm your friend, you know."
"You're more than that," she whispered before she could stop herself. Her blue eyes grew wide and she quickly whipped back around. "So, on the off chance that Ossi Industries is somehow related to your friend's sponsors…"
She trailed off when she felt him come up behind her. "Nancy," Frank began again. He was so close that she could feel his solid warmth surrounding her. She braced herself. Was she ready to open this particular can of worms? Were either of them ready to have this conversation? Nancy closed her eyes and waited for him to go on.
"Is it 'Ossi' with one 's' or two?"
Her eyes flew open and something akin to relief washed over her. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. "Two," she replied. "I think." Frank moved back to the laptop and she stared down at the neat slices of mango she'd created. Somehow, Frank had known that they weren't ready and had acted accordingly. And while she was grateful, she was also…what? What was that nagging feeling peeking through the relief?
Disappointment?
Nancy shook her head and started turning the slices of mango into bite-sized pieces for the cobbler filling. Silent minutes passed as she sugared the mango to form a sweet glaze, and Frank searched the FBI's database.
"Ah-ha!" he finally said, startling her. "Ossi Industries is believed to be a cover for the Barilli syndicate which operates throughout most of the western United States, with ties to Southern Europe." His eyes whipped back and forth as he skimmed over the information. "They have their hands in everything…money laundering, prostitution, loan sharking…and several unsolved murders have been linked to them, but there's never been anything more than circumstantial evidence. The FBI has an entire task force on these guys, but they keep themselves very clean, presenting themselves as legitimate businessmen with investments and…and sponsorships. For tax purposes." Frank glanced away. "What has Patrick gotten himself into?"
"You don't know for sure that his sponsors aren't anything more than true philanthropists," Nancy said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Whether you believe in coincidences or not, there's no hard evidence yet." She sighed. "But Victoria…she got pulled into all of this without knowing about any of it. And I don't know how to tell her that her business partner was probably murdered by the mob."
Frank frowned. "Nancy, are you in any danger by working here? Because if they came after him, they might…"
"Victoria's the one who's in the most danger. They want something from her, and they've proven how far they'll go." She took a step back. "Perhaps I ought to contact that task force. I'm already being courted by the Bureau; might as well start making some enemies. Because really…who wants some college kid coming to them with more evidence than they've been able to come up with in…"
"The Bureau wants you, too?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye despite the situation. "They keep sending me brochures on how much I'll enjoy training at Quantico after graduation."
Nancy looked up at him. "Are you going to accept the invitation?"
"I haven't decided yet. Are you?"
She shook her head slightly. "I'm not sure. There are so many things to consider."
He agreed, "Yeah. It's a huge decision. A permanent one. You have to go with what will make you happiest…because it's your life. You can't live it for anyone else."
"Frank? Are we talking about the FBI anymore?"
"Honestly?" He never broke their stare; they were so close that either one of them could have made the first move. "I don't know."
Nancy wet her lips nervously. "Whatever this is between us, Frank…"
"Hey." Frank gave her a soft smile. "There's time, Nancy. We don't have to rush this. Whatever this is…I want to do it right. It's important to me."
She lowered her gaze, nodding. After brushing away the tears that caught in her lashes, Nancy lifted her head. "Thank you, Frank."
"Let's keep searching. My gut tells me that Patrick needs help." Frank put a hand to his stomach. "But before we do that…I don't suppose there's anything to eat around this kitchen, is there?"
"You didn't eat?"
"I don't consider McDonald's real food."
Nancy laughed. "Fast food snob." She looked around. "Here. Try some of the filling and tell me what you think." Reaching into the bowl, she pulled out a sugared piece of mango.
Frank held up his hands. "I don't want to get your laptop all sticky."
"I don't…well…" She hesitated. "All right, open up." Nancy fed him the piece of fruit; he chewed and swallowed. "Good?"
"Sweet." His long fingers circled her slender wrist, bringing her fingers up to his mouth. He kissed each of them, tasting the sugar that lingered on her skin. "Sweeter."
Nancy's heart beat at the base of her throat. She tried to swallow, but found that she couldn't. "Frank…"
He dropped her wrist and slid his hands into her hair, drawing her face towards his. "I know." His voice was thick and deep. "Slow."
Her eyelids fluttered when he brushed his lips across hers. She could taste the mango, but more than that, she could taste Frank. They'd kissed before, but this was different somehow. She'd always felt too guilty to really enjoy the soft pressure of his lips, too confused to appreciate the way his mouth melded perfectly with hers. But not right then. Right then, she just wanted to relax into him…and forget that the rest of the world even existed.
The shrill, insistent bleating of an alarm broke them apart. "What is it?" Frank asked, tilting his head up.
"The fire alarm!" Nancy touched her lips where she could still feel his kiss, before glancing around. "I don't see smoke. Do you see…" She gasped and pointed at the swinging door that led out into the restaurant. Curls of white-grey smoke snaked up at the threshold. "Frank!! It's out front!"
"Stay here!"
"I don't think so, Hardy!" She grabbed his hand and together they ran for the door. It was cool to the touch, so Frank pushed it open. Thick clouds of smoke hit them; instantly, they both began to cough.
Nancy blinked her eyes rapidly and tried to peer through the haze. What she saw was nothing short of horrifying. Victoria's restaurant…Victoria's dream was on fire.
****
To Be Continued