by Nana Malone
I chuckled and then hit the next tab to show her the tickets. "You're right, it's not much. But we're going to go digging. We're going to see if we can find that report on Henry Warlow. The private investigator I hired said it's there, but we'll have to go through the paper archives to find it. So how do you feel about going to Milan?"
Her eyes went wide. "Milan?"
I nodded. "Milan. The two of us, plus my detective doing the leg work will make it go a lot faster. Hopefully we can find something useful. There's a reason Jameson is keeping these files under lock and key. I want to know what it is. He kept the police report from that day, and he kept his medical reports from the following weeks, which is not that unusual I guess, but those things don’t belong in the vault with the family artwork of all places. They should be scanned in with his personal medical reports somewhere. Why keep it? Moreover, why hide it under such strict security measures?"
“So, the theory is that Lord Jameson is Henry Warlow."
"That's the working theory, and I think it could be real. I want to get proof. What do you say? Are you coming with me?"
"You forget that I work for Interpol. I just got my job back. I can't just up and go."
I grinned. "Well, it’s a good thing I've already got clearance from your boss." I pressed the tablet again, and there it was, the authorization signed by Amelia.
With a grin, she climbed back onto my lap. "You really did think of everything."
“I know you. You’re trying to tamp down your more impulsive side. But this directly relates to your investigation, so… work trip? To Milan?"
She gave me a look that I couldn’t quite read, all wide-eyed and full of wonder. "What am I going to do with you?"
Marry me, I thought. Holy shit. But I didn't say that. Instead, what I said was, "Oh trust me, I'm pretty sure I can think of something." And then I nuzzled her again, trying to hold back the words that almost came spilling out of my lips. Surely, that would terrify her. We needed more time before I laid that on her, and I'd give her all the time in the world if it meant I could have her forever.
Nyla
For me, Milan was the city. That city that I always promised myself I would spend more time in. That I would spend days exploring old castles and the architecture and sights and maybe not the food per se, but Milan.
I always fooled myself whenever I went there for work that I was going to take time and enjoy the city. Because Milan was a city for young people. Yes, of course, there was the history. but there was something so very punk rock about Milan.
The clubs and parties, the scenes and sights, and the museums and culture to soak up. But somehow, I’d never managed it.
Milan was just that city I came to for work and then left. Always swearing that one day, one day, I was coming back to have my way with her.
East ran his thumb over mine as he held my hand through customs. "What's that look on your face?"
"It's nothing. Just every time I’m here, I promise myself that this will be the time I get to explore. This will be the time that I really do museums and go to clubs and laugh, or whatever. But somehow, I never do.”
"Oh, well we have to fix that. I once spent a very drunken weekend here in Milan."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course, you did. You've literally been everywhere. Done everything."
He kept hold of my hand until we were just outside of the airport. Throngs of taxi drivers honked, trying to get their passengers in their cars. Beeping filled the air as they tried to flag us if we needed a ride.
Luckily, our ride, a blue Mercedes sedan, pulled up to the curb and a uniformed driver got out. I rolled my eyes at East. "You never do anything subtly, do you?"
East grinned. "Why would anyone choose to do subtle?"
"Careful now, you sound like Ben," I laughed.
He winced. “Mortal wound. I wanted to do Milan in style with you.”
And just like that, he warmed me from the inside out. "Careful now, you're campaigning for boyfriend of the year like this."
"I certainly fucking hope so. I have a lot of making up to do. I want to cement myself in your life before we get back. That way, you can't get rid of me."
I glanced over at him, expecting to see that he was kidding, but there was a firm set to his jaw. "East, I'm not going anywhere."
“I know. I'm going to make sure of it."
I wanted to laugh to alleviate the sudden tension in the car, but somehow, I knew he was serious. He was saying something important to hear. So, I nodded. "Well, I can't wait to see the city with you."
He leaned forward and said something to the driver, and when he settled back, my eyes went wide. "You speak Italian?"
He nodded. "Yeah, a little. Enough to get around. But you're Interpol. Don't you?"
"Of course, but my French is better. I guess I learn something new about you every day."
He shrugged and then turned to look out the window. Then it dawned on me. "You learned Italian because of a girl."
When he turned back to me, his grin was sheepish. "Well, like I said, alcohol-fueled weekend. I ended up with an Italian girlfriend for six months."
"Of course, you did. And what happened to her?"
He laughed. "Well, she found out we didn't have much in common other than how much we enjoyed each other's bodies."
I lifted a brow. “She's Italian, so does she have a government ID?"
He took my hand and kissed it. "No, love. We're not going to run a background check on her then put her on Interpol's most wanted list, okay?"
My jaw formed an O. "I would do no such thing. That's beneath me. Honestly—"
The car gave a sudden swerve, and he set to catch me before I went careening to the other side. East wrapped an arm around my waist before the seat belt could do its proper job and slammed me back into my seat. Suddenly, his voice was sharp, and the amount of Italian that he knew was quite apparent. It was plenty. The words came out rapidly. When he sat back, my eyes were wide. "East, what the hell is going on?"
“No clue.”
I crossed my arms and lifted my brow.
He took a long deep breath and then released it. "Sorry. Force of habit. We are being followed. Pietro noticed it about three miles ago. He started taking the securest route to the city. So far, he only sees one car, but there could be more. He took that exit sharply to try and shake them."
I glanced surreptitiously behind us, knowing better than to glance back sharply in case they could see me, so I tucked my hair behind my ear and just casually turned my head to the side. “He’s right. We are being followed. Do we have a plan?"
He nodded. "Sorry, I'd planned for us to stay in a villa, but the hotel is probably a safer bet. Hold on, let me get Belinda to book us into the Four Seasons. Better security.”
"But who the fuck is following us?"
"It could be anyone. You want to play that game of who's trying to kill us today?"
Pietro made another sharp swerve and took an exit onto a two-lane roadway.
I glanced around. "We're going away from the city, aren't we?"
Pietro nodded. "Yes, ma’am." Though heavily accented, his English was perfect. "If I can draw them away here, we can lose them then get back on the main road."
I frowned. "Isn't it better to keep trying to lose them in the city? We could hop out somewhere. They might not even notice."
Pietro's gaze met mine. "Please, try to relax. I shall have you to safety soon."
East held my hand tight. "Just stay calm. Pietro will get us out of this."
I eyed Pietro. No experienced driver in this situation would have taken us this way. We were isolated, easy pickings out here.
I leaned close to him. "East, I don't think—"
He patted my knee. "I promise, it'll be fine."
Next thing I knew, we were careening into a small Italian village. There were some barns, and farther ahead, it looked like maybe there was some hint of town life or something. But this was a very rural area. "East, wha
t are we—"
And then suddenly Pietro took a sharp left, racing toward a barn. Then he hit some buttons on the dash, and the barn doors opened and he zoomed inside. I braced one hand against the back of the seat and gripped East's thigh with the other one, as if I could dull the impact of the crash by holding on tight. Once we passed the barn doors that came down behind us, Pietro slammed on the brakes, pulling the main handbrake, spinning the car out and drifting all the way to the back of the barn just in time.
It was just like the movies. My hair flew about in slow motion while my heart did a rapid tick-a-tick-a-tick. And I wasn't breathing. There was no way to get any air. In the seconds between when I thought I was going to die and the moment the car stopped with a screech, I lifted my head to East, and he looked perfectly calm, pulled out a tablet, and tapped something. "What the fuck is going on, East?"
"I anticipated that there might be problems."
"Might be problems?" My voice rose several octaves.
He nodded. He was calm. Too calm. Why was he so calm?
"I don't even have a gun. All I have is my badge. How are we—"
Pietro stepped out of the car, opened East’s door, and then came around to my side to open my door for me. When I just blinked up at him owlishly, he stepped aside and then went over to the worktable by the far wall. There were actual tools in here. Hoes and pitchforks and shovels and things like that. But after Pietro pressed a panel of numbers, a whole section of the wall opened with guns stored behind it. Big, fuck-off guns.
Holy shit.
"What is going on?"
"Well, I didn't want to get caught unaware like at Grimwald Square, so I got us a special driver. He's former Italian special forces."
I turned and stared at Pietro, and he gave me a brief nod. "Ma’am?" He held out two small pistols. Shaking, I glowered at him. "I don't want the girl guns. Give me the Glock."
Pietro's brows popped. "Okay, she knows her weapons."
East just chuckled. "I'll take your girl gun. I can shoot with anything."
I glanced at my boyfriend, who was also a member of a secret society and a badass. It was like he and his friends were James Bond or something. "You know, one of these days we're going to sit down and have a very long conversation about just what the Elite does."
His smile was slow and sexy as he lowered his gun and handed me my magazine. "The Elite is an organization of men who are power brokers in essence. We also have specialized training in our individual areas of interest."
"And your areas of interest include handguns?"
He nodded. "If I hadn't had the Elite, I might have gone into Foreign Service or Intelligence Services or something."
I nodded. "We have to redo every conversation we've ever had. You know that, right?"
He nodded. "Yep, got it. In the meantime, let's take our positions. I have already contacted the police for help. And not to worry, Nyla, you won't get in trouble. I've been licensed for every single one of these weapons."
Pietro grinned. "Yes ma’am."
"Right." I nodded and then crouched down by the window. "What are we going to do?"
"We have some surprises, but hopefully it won't come to that. In the meantime, Pietro will take care of the car."
Pietro nodded and then went to another one of the cupboards, took some kind of spray solution out, and started spraying down the Mercedes. The blue looked like it was being stripped off or blasted off somehow. The outcome revealed a silvery green color, and my mouth hung open. "I thought I was badass, but you're clearly in a whole other league."
"Let's just say I have some cool friends."
Whatever it was that Pietro was washing onto the car, it sprayed down the drain in the floor, and he cleaned up. East kept his eyes glued outside. The dark gray SUV that had been following us was driving slowly down the lane, as if not buying our whole facade of nothing special happening here. My stomach flipped and flopped as my heart did its best to learn the salsa all on its own.
I wanted to look out the window again, but East shook his head at me. Instead, he handed me his tablet so I could see what was coming. They parked the car. "Jesus Christ, how did they find us?”
He shook his head. "I don't know, but we're going to be okay. Help is on the way."
"You sound so certain of that."
"Well, let's just say I have some people who owe me some favors."
The two men parked and exited the SUV, and they were carrying guns. Big ones. Those were semi-automatics. "What are they doing with things like that?"
"Well, I think the general idea is to kill us dead."
"As opposed to killing us just a little?" I raised a brow.
He chortled. "Okay, testy-testy. It's just a little joke."
"You are surprisingly calm. Why are you so calm?"
"Because my girlfriend is badass. And I have a badass special op bloke with me. And I'm pretty good with a gun. And I have some toys that are going to make these guys very disappointed that they fucked with us. So please, give me some credit."
And then I realized the whole time that I'd been acting like I was the badass, it really was East. Yes, he was a badass in the art world and power brokering and being a billionaire, whatever the hell they did. But he really excelled when it came to safety and security, not just the hacking thing.
The two guys outside essentially tried to check out our hiding spot. They checked the windows only to find a whole lot of nothing. And then they tried the doors. When one of them raised his gun up to the lock as if he was going to attempt to shoot his way in, I held my gun in my hand, keeping it trained on the door, ready and looming to do battle.
And then on the tablet, we saw flashing lights coming down the same way that we came, veering off toward the town like we had.
"The cavalry is here," East whispered.
The two men outside ran for their SUV, quickly forgetting us. And it was only then that East relaxed, his back against the wall. He exhaled a long breath.
"Why do you look so relieved?" I asked him.
"Because I had no idea if that was going to work or not. But we live to fight another day."
I stared at him. "So, you were bluffing? You had no idea if this was going to work?"
He shook his head. "I had high hopes. I don't like you being in danger."
"Something tells me that I am in far less danger with you than I have ever been in my entire life."
"And that's all I want. Now, let's lose the guns and get to the hotel."
Chapter Seven
Nyla
"Stick with me babe, and I'll take you to all the best places." East twirled around the tiny office we'd been given with the boxes and boxes of files from the spring of thirty years ago.
"You did promise me that," I said, rolling my eyes.
He laughed as he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I promise, as soon as we find what we need, we'll go tour the city. After all, I did also promise you Milan."
I rolled my shoulders, still wincing a little with the ache where I’d been shot. His eyes grew cloudy then as he watched me. "Oh, stop it. It's fine. It aches a little bit, but I'm okay. Besides, you saved my life, so I can forgive your little shit decisions."
He nodded solemnly, and I could tell that he wanted to argue. But at least we didn't have to go down that road today. "Okay, so I will take this stack,” he said. “These are all the missing persons reports.”
"Okay, I will look at the hospital records for that year. Anyone that didn't have a passport, or went unclaimed, or died in surgery or something." There couldn’t be that many. At least I hoped not.
“It’s so sexy when you talk about hospitals and make lists."
I flashed him a grin as I pulled my hair back off my face and wound it into a messy loose bun.
His eyes went hooded. "God, that’s so blazingly hot."
My brows popped. "What, me putting my hair up into a bedhead?"
"Yes, bedheads are always sexy. But then there is your 'time to get to wor
k' hair. You do that every time. When you're about to get down to it, you pull your hair back and tie it up. I watch as the elastics fight to stay intact and not pop. It’s sexy."
I rolled my eyes. "You know, I have always hated my hair. It's so thick and generally curly and unruly. It didn't help that I didn't have a mum to help me figure out how to tame and manage it. My father, of course, was completely unhelpful. When I was a kid, he just used to cut it, so I had a boy hair cut from age ten to twelve."
East winced. "Oh God, the worst time."
"Oh yeah, the worst. It was bad because I got boobs at ten. Not big ones, but enough so that I looked weird. And there were braces too."
A deep rumbling laugh poured out of him. Then came the howling laughter. "Oh God, can I see a picture?"
I shook my head. "No. You may not since you're laughing."
"I'm sorry, love. I don't understand it though. He was in an international community. Couldn't he have asked someone for help?"
"God only knows. No one else in my family has this hair at all. When I got older, I had Brazilian blowouts often. I wish I’d learned to love my hair though. I just… I don't know. I didn't know what to do with it, so my hair and I, we have a complicated relationship."
"Well, I love it either way.”
"Maybe one day I'll go curly again. It's going to look really awkward for a while there as the curls grow in."
"I'm sure I will love it either way."
"He says now, until he sees me with the wild curls that are going to make me look like Medusa."
"I love curly hair. It gives me something more to play with."
The look he gave me was all warmth and fuzz. I was glad we could do this. We could still be at ease and be relaxed, considering someone had tried to shoot us yesterday. Considering that we had both lain awake all night, pretending we were asleep, wrapped up in each other. We did actually give up the ghost at 4 a.m. and made love, giving us both the needed respite for a couple of hours sleep. But now, now we could pretend as if everything was okay, as if someone hadn't tried to kill us yesterday.
