Fatal Cover-Up

by Lisa Harris

  “Why not? A movie and takeaway after a week of interacting with tourists sounds pretty perfect to me.”

  “Forget it. You’ve been moping around this apartment for the past month. It’s time for you to get up off that couch and do something. We could go to the market at Campo de’ Fiori, or drive up to Monte Mario, or there’s a concert tonight—”

  Talia frowned. Clearly her friend wasn’t planning on letting her off the hook.

  “Too touristy?” Carla asked.

  “My feet hurt, and—”

  “Seriously, girl, I think it’s time for an intervention. All you do is work, then come home and stare at the television. You eat cereal for dinner and leftover pizza for breakfast. You barely go out with your friends, let alone on dates.”

  “Your point?”

  “My point?” Talia caught the exasperation in her friend’s voice as she spoke. “My point is that you need to snap out of it.”

  Except she wasn’t quite sure how. Instead she was distracted, moody and barely had enough energy to get through her day, let alone go out again at night.

  “I know what the problem is,” Carla said, plopping down beside her.

  “What?”

  “It’s that tall, dark and handsome FBI agent you haven’t wanted to talk about since you returned.”

  “How I feel has nothing to do with Joe.”

  “Then why do I keep catching you staring at that selfie you think I don’t know about on your phone?”

  Talia’s frown deepened. “I’ve done that once…maybe twice.”

  “Right. And I know he calls you. Almost every day.”

  “So? He saved my life. We’ve been chatting. Talking on the phone. Messaging each other.”

  “Just be honest with me. Okay?” Carla pulled her legs up underneath her. “And if you won’t be honest with me, at least be honest with yourself. Because I know the signs. You can’t stop thinking about him. It affects your sleep and your eating—”

  “Okay.” Talia picked at a hangnail, wishing her friend’s diagnosis wasn’t so spot on. “What if I am in love with him? I’m afraid if I hand him my heart, I’ll lose it, and I don’t think I can do that again.”

  “Love’s always a risk.”

  “But Thomas was a lawman. Joe’s a lawman.”

  “I get the connection, but not the problem. He’s not Thomas.”

  The reality of the situation wormed its way through her as she made an attempt to explain. “I loved another lawman who had a dangerous job. What happens if I let Joe into my life and lose him?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard this one before, but what happens if you let him into your life and don’t lose him? Or what if you don’t let him into your life and you never find out what could have been?”

  Talia groaned. “Stop making so much sense.”

  “Why, because you’re about to walk away from the best thing that’s happened to you in a long time?”

  She couldn’t argue with her. Because everything she was saying did make sense. Falling in love again always seemed a bit like stepping off a cliff. And yet as sappy as it sounded, there was something about being with Joe that made her feel as if she could fly.

  “He wants me to go back to the US,” she said.

  “Sounds romantic.”

  “I’m not sure that romantic is the word. The paintings are being donated to the museum. He thought I might like to be there. Thought it would help with the closure of everything that happened.”

  The nightmares had begun to fade. She no longer found herself jumping at every loud noise or constantly looking over her shoulder, as she had been. And she’d begun to look forward to Joe’s calls, making the line between her desire to guard her heart and give it away begin to blur.

  “If you went to the States, you’d get to see him,” Carla said. “Isn’t that what the trip would really be about? Besides, it’s time you moved on with your life.”

  Talia closed her eyes and allowed a flow of memories to surface. The moment he’d come to her rescue outside the Colosseum, walking through Florence, sitting beside him in the gondola when he kissed her… If she was completely honest with herself, she wanted to see him again. Badly.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready,” she said.

  “You’re ready,” Carla said. “And it’s time you followed your heart.”

  *

  “On behalf of the Flinmore Gallery, we want to thank you for returning these paintings to their rightful owner…”

  Joe tuned out the pale, lanky curator’s detailed history of the Li Fonti paintings and how the museum originally came into possession of them. As far as he was concerned, their journey over the past couple years had been far more newsworthy. They’d been stolen from the museum, used as collateral for the drug trade and had eventually cost the lives of at least two people. He was glad they were out of his hands and back in their rightful place.

  He just wished Talia could have been here to see it happen.

  At the end of the curator’s speech, the small crowd gathered around them gave a short round of applause, then silently dispersed.

  A woman walked up to the display and stopped in front of the paintings next to where he stood. “I can’t believe I missed the ceremony. Traffic from the airport was horrible.”

  “Talia?” Joe felt his heart catch as he heard the familiar voice.

  “I still think they’re beautiful, but I’m glad that they’re here, out of my life, where hopefully no one can ever steal them again. Or at the least involve me.”

  “You came,” he said, uncertain he wasn’t dreaming.

  “I wasn’t sure I was going to. Not at first. But I thought seeing the paintings hanging on a museum wall would bring closure.” She drew in a deep breath then caught his gaze. “And there’s another reason I came. I missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” he said, his mind whirling with the implications of her presence. “You look… beautiful.”

  He caught the blush creep across her cheeks as she glanced down at the bright blue fabric of her dress swirling just above her ankles.

  “Thanks.”

  “How long are you staying?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I thought for starters we could spend the day together. If you’re free.”

  “Of course.” There were so many things he’d imagined showing her if she ever visited, but for the moment all he could think about was the fact that she was actually here. “Would you like to look around the museum for a few minutes first?”

  “My only plan for today is to spend the day with you, but you know me. I can’t exactly pass up a new museum.”

  He took her hand, enjoying watching her as much as the artwork. Over the last few weeks, he’d found himself waking up every morning hoping there was a message from her. Between the time change and their jobs, connecting had been a challenge. It usually meant him calling her before he went to bed and before she went to work in the morning.

  But they’d managed to make it work. He’d laugh over something a tourist had said, while she’d worry about him when he told her he’d taken on a new case. She told him funny stories of trips to Europe with her parents, and how she’d gotten the scar on the back of her hand. How she hated broccoli and loved tapioca pudding. Preferred coffee over tea, and never passed up anything with frosting and sprinkles on it.

  And now here he was, getting to spend the day with her. But the thing was, he’d already realized that he didn’t just want to spend today with her, but every day. Text messages and phone calls weren’t enough. And while part of him had no idea how to pull it off, he’d decided that any effort he had to put into making them work was going to be worth it.

  “This room is stunning,” she said.

  “I thought you might like it. A few Italian masterpieces on the wall. Carlevarijs, Guercino, Li Fonti…”

  “You’ve been doing your homework,” she said.

  “Just trying to impress you.”

  Talia laughed. “You d
on’t have to try to impress me. You already do.”

  “There’s something you need to know about the Li Fonti paintings,” he said. “I got a call as I was arriving here in regards to my brother.”

  “You found out who killed him?”

  “Anna confessed that the gun she used had been in the house and belonged to one of the drug dealers. We were able to finally get a hit on the fingerprints and connect them to the museum robbery. The two men believed to be involved were arrested earlier today.”

  “So it’s really over now. For both of us.”

  Joe nodded. “And like you, I’m learning to put all of this in the past. But as for the present…” He hesitated before continuing. There were so many things he wanted to say to her. He just wasn’t sure when it was going to be the right time. Or if another time would ever be better.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about my future,” he said, finally.

  “With the FBI?”

  “More of a personal nature.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I promised I’d give you time, and I meant that. I won’t push you. But the last few weeks of getting to know you have only managed to convince me even more that I’d like to find a way to work around the different time zones and continents and see each other more. Like this.”

  She stopped in front of another painting and studied it for a few moments before turning to him. “What would you say if I told you I was considering moving back to the States?”

  He fought to curb his excitement. “You know I’d be thrilled to have you closer.”

  “Living in Rome was always supposed to be temporary. I just never left. But after these past few weeks of emails and phone calls, I realized I’m ready to take another step. Then last week I received a job offer from an art school not far from here I’d always dreamed of teaching at, and I thought…I thought it might be time to move back.”

  “And Italy?” he asked. He needed to make sure she wasn’t going to regret any decision she made.

  “I plan to return. In fact, I promised you I’d take you back one day and be your tour guide. I’d still like to do that.”

  “I was hoping you’d say something like that, because honestly, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He caught her gaze. They’d talked in what-ifs. What if they got married? What would happen after that? But they’d never got to the point of figuring out all the answers. But right now, any complications didn’t seem to matter. “I don’t want to lose you, Talia.”

  “I don’t want to lose you, either, and I think—I am…ready to move forward.”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t think I was crazy.”

  She laughed. “As far as I’m concerned your timing is perfect. You’ve made me realize that I’m finally ready to give my heart away.”

  “Then you’ll marry me?”

  “Yes.” Talia drew in a sharp breath as tears flooded her eyes. But she was smiling. That same smile that had caught his heart from the beginning. She let him slide the ring onto her finger, then pulled her close and lost himself in her kiss.

  *

  If you enjoyed this story by Lisa Harris, pick up these previous titles:

  FINAL DEPOSIT

  STOLEN IDENTITY

  DEADLY SAFARI

  TAKEN

  DESPERATE ESCAPE

  DESERT SECRETS

  Available now from Love Inspired Suspense!

  Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com

  Keep reading for an excerpt from PROTECTIVE MEASURES by Maggie K. Black.

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  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed Joe and Talia’s adventure across Italy. Two summers ago, on our way back to the United States, our family stopped in Italy for a few days so I could research this book. We stayed in Rome, Pisa and Venice, and except for the heat—it was July—I enjoyed every minute of the trip! It’s definitely a country I’m hoping to return to one day in order to visit more places. There are simply so many fascinating things to see—though thankfully, our trip wasn’t quite as adventurous as Joe and Talia’s!

  But there is one thing I have in common with them. I understand loss. And that bad things sometimes happen to good people. It’s something we all have to experience in this life. I’ve learned, though, that God’s heart really does break when ours does. And that when we go through the valley, He goes through it with us.

  Blessings,

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.

  You enjoy a dash of danger. Love Inspired Suspense stories feature strong heroes and heroines whose faith is central in solving mysteries and saving lives.

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  Protective Measures

  by Maggie K. Black

  ONE

  It was a flash of deep red silk that first caught naval commander Leo Darius’s attention, followed by a gust of humid air seeping in through one of the balcony doors of the Thousand Islands castle. His steel-gray eyes rose. Their intense gaze cut through the crowded ballroom. But he barely managed to catch a glimpse of the petite, dark-haired woman as she slipped out through the curtains and onto one of the historical building’s stone balconies. There’d been no mistaking the outline of a weapons holster strapped to her leg, underneath the folds of her long crimson gown. She was beautiful and dangerous.

  But was she carrying the vital military secrets he was there to intercept?

  Leo’s six-foot frame straightened almost to attention, filling out the crisp lines of his naval dress uniform. He strode across the ballroom, through the flashing cameras, clinking glasses and babble of small talk that filled the room like the thrum of summer bees. A prayer filled his heart. Please let this handoff go quickly and smoothly. A whole lot of lives are counting on me.

  It was hard to imagine a mission or battle that was more different to what he was used to. The decorated naval officer had dedicated his life to taking out violent pirates and smugglers on dangerous waters, until the death of his estranged wife, Marisa, had forced him home to raise their two daughters. He’d never expected to be attending events like these, even if it was just as a cover. The weeklong international symposium was supposed to be about celebrating cooperation and hope. Yet, somewhere in all the glitz and glamour was an informant who claimed to be carrying proof that corrupt elements within Canada’s own navy had been cooperating with drug smugglers in the North Sea. Leo’s mission was simple: find the informant, get the data and analyze whether it was true. He hoped the dazzling stranger was the person he was there to meet. Although he couldn’t imagine what kind of woman wore a weapon with evening wear.

  “Commander Darius, right?” A male voice with an Irish accent made Leo stop. He turned. Two men stood behind him, both of whom he recognized from the press coverage surrounding the event. The Irishman Killian Lynch was a former wrestling champion turned celebrity jo
urnalist. He was in his early thirties, with horn-rimmed glasses perched just above a slight dent on the bridge of an otherwise long and straight nose. The other, Nigel Blackwell, was English, heavier set and an actor who specialized in period dramas. Both men were rising stars and came from countries whose navy patrolled the North Sea.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Leo shook their hands in turn and exchanged brief introductions. The threat potential of this intel was so high that no one but his own admiral knew of his mission. As far as the gathered guests were concerned Leo was just another delegate. It was a good cover and one that no one would question. Leo was a decorated hero and widower with a picture-perfect family. Not to mention the ability to lock his thoughts and feelings away like a steel trap.

  “I’ve noticed you haven’t signed up to take part in the charity auction on Saturday.” Nigel’s voice boomed with a hint of a chuckle that Leo suspected was practiced. “I will be serving as auctioneer and all the money raised will go to an international charity that builds children’s hospitals around the world. I do hope we can count on you.”

  “Absolutely,” Leo said. “Put me down for a meal at one of Ottawa’s top restaurants, followed by tickets to the theater.” A quick call to the tourism office should sort that quickly enough.

  Nigel seemed satisfied with that and wandered off to the dessert table, leaving Leo alone with the Irish journalist.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t suggest something involving your family,” Killian said. “The media are always so eager to get their hands on anything to do with children. Those are your girls, correct?”

  Killian gestured to a banner hanging beside the stage. Leo followed his gaze. There alongside banners of the other delegates was a picture of Ivy and Eve, running with him beside the Ottawa River. Blonde and pigtailed, eight-year-old Eve practically bounded off the canvas. But the cautious look in twelve-year-old Ivy’s green eyes mirrored the one Leo could feel seeping into his own.

  “Yup, they’re the genuine article,” Leo said. “But I’m afraid the only event they’re taking part in is the parade on Friday.” They’d be on a float beside him, visible but protected. Although if all went according to plan the mission would be over by then and he’d be able to skip the rest of the week’s events. “Enjoy your evening.”