Chapter 2

Rachel looked over at the cell phone that was lying on the seat of Sergio's truck. She hadn't driven very far - she didn't want to be arrested for 'Grand Theft Auto'. In fact she was planning on dropping the truck off at his office for him to find later. She had just pulled into the lot when Sergio's cell phone began to ring again. It had been ringing off and on for the past ten minutes.

Finally she reached over and picked it up. Dare she answer it? She noticed on the display it said 'Nicola'. She dropped it as if she had been burned by it. His brother knew that she would have that phone - and he was trying to use it to his advantage.

After ten more minutes of insistent ringing, she finally picked it up. She cautiously placed the phone next to her ear.

"Hello," she answered.

"That wasn't very nice of you, Rachel," Nicola said in greeting.

"Hello, Nicky. Who ever said I was nice person?" she asked as she slid out from under the wheel and got down out of the large truck.

He laughed heartily in her ear.

"You know, I do believe you are just going to be what my little brother needs. He's a bit uptight but I think you will loosen him up fast."

"I have no intentions of loosening him up, Nicky. I have been perfectly blunt about that. I do believe that your brother will be a bit too possessive for me."

"Irregardless, Rach, I need to know how to get your dog off him without loosing a hand or either of us getting bitten."

She laughed at the thought of Rambo eating Nicola's hand.

"Now, we wouldn't want to do that. The world would be at lost without one of it's premier clothing designers."

"Sergio told you about that?" he asked - his interest piqued.

"Of course. I think he was trying to take my mind off the pain at the time. He told me that you two owned a clothing design firm. I believe he put it that you were the creative side while he was the bean counter."

"Nicola!" she heard a man's voice from the background.

"As much as I have enjoyed chatting with you, Rach, would you mind telling me how to get your dog off of Sergio?"

"Why, is he being persistent?" she asked sarcastically.

"I do believe he won't have any skin left if he continues to be licked by your dog."

"Fine. I'll give the instructions. Just take the phone over by Rambo."

"Rambo?"

"Yes. His name is Rambo. And don't give me any guff about it - I didn't name him. His trainer at the academy named him; yes, he was an action flick buff. There was a Bond, a Callahan, and a Rocky in his graduation class." She could hear the mumbled laughs and protests as it became obvious that Nicola was close enough that Rambo should be able to hear her. "Rambo! Cease!" she ordered.

Sergio sighed in relief when the dog on top of him paused in his licking before cocking his head and staring at the phone in Nicola's outstretched hand. He could barely hear her voice. He reached out and took the phone slowly from Nicola's hand. He did not want to trigger an actual attack by Rambo.

"Brutta birbona?"

"You know I really should have had Rambo attack you. How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?" she said tartly.

"Well, if the shoe fits..." he said evenly as Rambo focused his deeply soulful amber eyes on him.

"And I'll tell you the same thing I tell Smerelda. I am not a 'bad little girl'."

"Okay ... well since you say you aren't a Brutta birbona would you mind calling off your dog?" he said softly as the dog continued to stare at him and listen to their conversation.

"That all depends?"

"On what, mi bella?" he asked as he tentatively rubbed Rambo's neck. The dog leaned heavily into his hand.

"How serious you are about this dating thing," Rachel explained.

"I'm very serious, Rachel. All I want is a chance," he stated softly.

"We'll see."

"How about ten o'clock, Saturday morning at Bianchi's. I can come and pick you up?"

"No. We'll meet there. I'm dropping your truck off at your office. You can have your brother or who ever bring you there. You can bring Rambo with you on Saturday. I won't need him again until then. He eats any thing you put in front of him, so be careful what you place in front of him. He likes leather shoes - so hide them from him."

"Is that all?" he asked.

"No, but you'll figure the rest out. Now hold the phone out to him."

Sergio held the phone out and wondered what she wasn't telling him. He could barely hear her voice before Rambo gave him a quick lick of obvious thanks for letting him use him as his personal salt lick, before bounding off of him and joyously heading for the water. Sergio rolled to his knees, watched and listened to the sequels of laughter from his cousin's children as Rambo jumped in the water and splashed them. He slowly lifted the phone back to his ear.

"All right mi bella, how do I get the dog out of the water?" he asked. His question was met by silence.

"Rachel?"

More silence. Frowning, he glanced at the display on Nicola's cell phone. 'Call ended', flashed on the screen.

"Well, hell," he muttered before shucking his boxer-briefs and heading down the beach to join the children and the happily barking Rambo.

Rachel yawned as she waited for the coffee to finish brewing. She glanced over at the clock on the stove - it read 4:38 am. She had actually slept in. Rambo was prone to wanting his morning walk at four due to the fact that they normally worked the daytime shift at the station. But after Sergio's little stunt on Thursday, she had called Hank and asked him if he would let her use a vacation-day on Friday. He consented much to her relief.

After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she opened the sliding door that led out to her deck. Sitting down on the glider, she watched the waves roll in. She found it very ironic that she lived just down the beach from Nicola's place. She had inherited the beach house from her mother's family. It was nothing like the huge mausoleum that her father called home. But she had wonderful memories of visiting her grandparents here; as they had lived here for many years until they both retired to Arizona. She remembered many nights sitting out here with her Gramps. As a painter, he had loved to sit and paint the ever-changing landscape of the ocean. They had a private beach, but they had always let all the families and neighborhood kids come in and frolic in the sand. It had been a bittersweet day when their only child — their wonderful daughter -- had died of complications while birthing her.

She was startled when the phone inside began to ring. Lazily she rose from the glider and stepped inside to grab the phone off it's cradle. "Hello,"

"Brutta birbona?" came a raspy voice.

"Bambinaia Smeralda!

"Rachel, there is no need to yell in my ear. I am not deaf yet," the elderly voice scolded.

"I'm sorry. Is everything all right? You normally don't call this early!"

"Everything is all right, Brutta birbona. I knew that you would be up this early. I was wondering if you would like some company."

"Oh, no. Are you fighting again with Dad?" she asked. Smeralda had started dating her father about five years ago, after she had finally moved out of the house against her father's wishes. Her father didn't exactly want her to become a police officer; he had expected her to go into the family business and become an attorney. She knew that it had greatly disappointed him, but she couldn't find the same pleasure in defending the guilty when she could be helping send the same crooks behind bars. So they often came 'head to head' over not only 'police vs defendant rights' but also court defenses; but she still loved him deeply and knew that Smeralda was just perfect for him.

"Don't worry about that. Can't I just come and visit mi brutta birbona?" the older lady asked.

"All right, Bambianaia. When can I expect you to arrive?" she asked.

"Can you pick me up at the bus station in 30 minutes."

"You're here?"

"My bus will arrive at 5:30 ... or so the driver promised me." Smerelda said - her voice harsh from the years of smoking.

"All right. I'll be waiting." Rachel promised before hanging up the phone. Not two minutes after hanging the phone up, it rang again. Looking at her 'caller id', she groaned. Her father! She mentally weighed the pros and cons of answering it; but she knew that if she didn't, he would show up on her doorstep. And he still might - if he and Smerelda were fighting like she thought they were.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Rachel,"

"Good morning, Dad." Rachel sighed as she rinsed her coffee cup in the sink and then placed it in the dish drainer. "I am quite surprised to hear from you this early."

"Nonsense. Can't a father call his daughter? I spoke with Hank and knew that you were still working the early shift, so I assumed that it would be all right to call this early," he said defensively.

"I love hearing from you, Dad. But I wish you wouldn't use the pretense of concern to find out whether or not Smerelda has shown up here. I would much rather have you call and ask me straight out."

"Rachel Loren Woodsworth!" His voice was full of pretended shock that she was even suggesting such a thing.

"Can it, Dad. I received a call from her a little while ago. I am supposed to pick her up from the bus station in a little while. I will tell her that you called for her, but I can't promise that she will call you back." She told her father with the utter calmness that had taken years to perfect.

She heard the rough sigh before he spoke again.

"I don't know what happened to us, Rach. I wish your mother was here."

Rachel stiffened as pain lanced through her. If she had a nickel for every time her father had uttered those words, she would have been able to retire from the force and live comfortably for the rest of her life. He never was going to let her forget that with her birth, she had taken her precious mother from him.

"Good bye, Dad." she said softly before placing the phone back in its cradle. She hung her head and took a deep breath; then suddenly jumped as the phone rang once more. She glanced at the 'caller id' and groaned - it listed a S. Rambaudi as the caller. Fuck! She didn't need this! She yanked the phone back up and snarled into it.

"Do you realize what time it is?" she asked hotly. Not entirely mad at him, she was just frustrated by her two previous calls.

"I am well aware of what time it is, Brutta birbona. Rambo insisted that I get out of bed at 4 am!! to take a walk on the beach. Did you realize that he was prone to this behavior?" Sergio asked her softly.

"That wouldn't surprise me, Sergio. He normally takes his walk at that time. We have to be to work by five." she said sweetly before hanging up the phone on his startled exclamation.

She shook her head before heading off to shower. Smerelda would be arriving soon and she needed to be on her toes around her very perceptive former nanny.

Sergio sighed as he hit the off button on his phone. He glanced over at Rambo who was lying in front of the door. With his half-closed eyes, the dog looked as if he was on the verge of going back to sleep. He wasn't sure if that was a mere ruse or not.

"Now you want to go back to sleep! Couldn't the walk have waited until seven?" he asked the dog. Rambo's ears perked up and his tail thumped the floor. "Of course not. You have to be just as difficult as your handler. I bet you drag her out on walks every morning." he groused.

Rambo lifted his head and barked once as if in complete agreement.

Sergio shook his head before stretching and turning to head back to his bed. Surely the dog would be content to let him sleep for another couple of hours. As he headed for the stairs, Rambo trotted behind him and up the stairs. He paused by his door. As he went to shut it, Rambo plopped down on his behind and whined. Sergio rubbed the back of his neck and tried to figure out what the confounded dog wanted now.