by Belle Ami
Silence answered her and it grew colder in the chapel. She opened her eyes and she was frozen by fear. Walking toward her, no not walking, floating, was a man, a man she knew in an instant. It was a youthful Giuliano Medici, his dark hair lifted as if he walked outside and a breeze blew through it. Eyes dark as night held her gaze. Taking her hands, he pulled her up from the floor, embracing her. He caressed her back and pressed his lips to her ear, sending shivers up and down her spine.
“Please,” Angela begged, “what do you want from me?”
Lips pressed on hers until she was sure she would faint dead on the floor. Her blood pulsed loudly in her ears, sounding like the roar of the ocean when you hold a seashell against your ear. Her heart jackhammered against her breast as if trying to break free of her chest cavity. All she wanted was Alex to come crashing through the door to save her.
The voice that spoke to her wasn’t audible, it filled her head, drowning out every other thought. Angela, you are the only one who knows the destiny of the painting, our painting, but others are searching for it. Evil men who will stop at nothing to get the painting, even murder. You must destroy them—their evil must end here. In this life.
To release your memory, you must become one with Alex. When two become one, you will be guided to our wedding portrait. Twice we’ve been torn apart, only as one can the evil be broken. Alex is as much a prisoner of the past as you are. Freedom is within your grasp. The lines of time will be erased and evil will be eradicated. Love will once more enrich your life. This time it will not be taken from you. You hold the power to free all of us.
Marsilio Ficino, my teacher said, ‘The soul exists partly in eternity and partly in time’, he wrote that for us, Fioretta. Remember these words, you must free us all. It is time for this to end… to end… to end… Giuliano’s voice echoed, fading away.
The ghostly figure that held her was gone before she inhaled her next breath. Somewhere the pounding of fists on wood matched the pounding of blood in her temples. She slipped to the floor.
Alex was frantic. He and several security guards tried without success to breach the door to the sacristy.
“I don’t understand, Signore, this door is never locked. There is no explanation for why we can’t open it. We may have to call the vigili del fuoco.”
“Damn it, the fire department isn’t going to bust down these doors and risk any damage. Isn’t there another way in?”
“No. The entrance to the church was permanently sealed off years ago. This is the only way in or out.”
“Help me. Let’s both put our shoulders to the door.”
With a concerted effort, they rammed their shoulders into the door. Without the least bit of resistance, the door flew open and they stumbled in, both falling over in their momentum. In the claustrophobic space, Angela’s motionless figure was immediately discernible. Alex rushed to her. Kneeling, he lifted her wrist and felt for her pulse. “Her pulse is steady, thank God. Can you get me some water?”
“Si, I’ll be right back.”
Alex lifted Angela in his arms. “Angel, come back to me.” He took a quick look around the mausoleum. It seemed as if the marble statues were staring at him, the eeriness made him shiver. The guard returned with a water bottle. Alex opened it and pouring some water into his hands he bathed her face. Her eyes fluttered open and he held the bottle to her lips. She took a tiny sip and gazed at him. There was a dreaminess in her eyes, a faraway look, but he was happy to see her eye color was brown and not forest green.
“Alex, it happened again.”
“I know, Angel. I saw something, too.”
“You did. What?”
“I can’t be certain, but from the corner of my eye, I swear I saw Giuliano walk by. It was a blur, but enough to get my attention. That’s why I paused, and then the door shut. I’ve been going crazy trying to get in here, to you.”
She lifted her hand to cup his face. “It’s okay. He’s trying to protect us.”
“Three times I’ve seen Giuliano. What does it all mean? I thought you were the one with the second sight?” He covered her hand with his.
Her brows knitted. “Each time you saw him, you were with me…”
His eyes widened. “Son of a bitch. You were the catalyst and the conduit. He was able to communicate with me through you. I’ve got to hand it to him. He’s clever.”
“And so are you.”
He kissed her palm. “Let’s get out of here and you can tell me everything when we’re home. Okay?”
Her gaze was soft, trusting, and it nearly gutted him. In combat, he understood the rules of engagement, who the enemy was, how to take down a target. In his investigative work, he knew how to track down thieves and bring them to justice. But this? How was he going to protect Angela from centuries-old ghosts? And after this latest stunt by Giuliano, he was beginning to wonder if these spirits were helping or hindering him? Past life or not, Giuliano was becoming a supernatural pain in the arse.
Scordato sipped an espresso from his hotel balcony in Florence, sighing with pleasure. For two days his cousin Enrico had followed Angela and Alex. A long-time “soldier” for the mafia, Enrico was an expert at tailing and avoiding detection. But he had some help from a very unique contact, a former Russian spy who now made a lucrative living as a contract hacker. And a woman, no less. Working for the mafia and various terrorist organizations, the hacker, known only as “Madam X” cost a fortune but was worth every penny.
Their private visit to the Uffizi and now the Chapel of the Princes was all the proof he needed to know that the painting by Leonardo had everything to do with the Medici and most likely Giuliano Medici. Piece by piece, the puzzle as to who or what was in the painting was taking shape.
Excitement coursed through his veins. Soon he’d make his move. The more he thought about Caine, the more he looked forward to doing away with him. It was obvious that Mr. Hero was responsible for his firing. The Getty board, presenting him with evidence, did not want a scandal and asked him to resign, citing personal reasons. They also denied him his severance package. He laughed in their faces and signed the ludicrous letter they’d drafted. Those idiots had no idea what he was capable of. What a brilliant mind they’d lost. Besides, he would soon be richer than Croesus. Not to mention the fame that would come with finding the missing da Vinci. He would be lauded from all corners of the globe, and every major museum and gallery would be clamoring for his notice.
Once Caine was out of the way, Scordato would drug Angela and use her mind to get to the painting, then he’d use her body for his pleasure.
He shifted in his chair, his cock stiffening at the anticipation of taking her by force. She’d whetted his appetite. He couldn’t stop thinking about their last encounter and how she’d managed to physically overcome him and get away. She liked it rough? He’d make certain she would get exactly what she wanted. He might even keep her around a bit, or maybe he’d just give her to Enrico and let him have his pleasure with her before killing her.
He finished his espresso and phoned his cousin to make certain everything was in order.
“Did you pay our errand boys?”
“Yes.”
“Give them their orders.”
“Consider it done.”
Beyond the windows of Alex’s apartment, Florence glittered like a sea of diamonds. Angela couldn’t help but wonder at what the Medici would have thought of their city today. Lost in her own thoughts, she sipped her glass of wine. Since they’d returned from the Basilica, she’d been trying to make sense of Giuliano’s words.
She turned from the window and glanced at Alex seated on the sofa. His eyes were downcast, gazing into his wine glass. He looked up, his face twisted in anguish.
“Angel, I know you’re upset and I know I failed you, but I swear it won’t happen again.”
“I’m not upset with you, I promise…
I’m just trying to remember who I was before this whole thing started.”
He set his glass down on the coffee table, and went to stand before her. “I promise you you’re not alone.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “I don’t understand why, but every instinct I possess tells me we’ll get through this together. I won’t stop until you’re free and we find that painting.”
Searching his eyes, she found only sincerity. She needed him in so many ways that it scared her. If he betrayed her it would be a dagger to her heart. “He kissed me today.”
A fire lit in Alex’s eyes. “Who kissed you?”
“Giuliano touched me, kissed me. It was eerie, but I didn’t feel threatened. He said things… things I’m not sure I understand.”
“Like what?”
She could feel her cheeks burn. “He said you and I must become lovers. That the hiding place of the painting won’t be revealed until we are. He said there are people who seek the painting and would kill us for it. He said we have to destroy them once and for all, otherwise we’ll never be free.”
Alex’s lips twitched. “My man, Giuliano, is quite the pimp. And here I wanted to deck the guy. What else did he say?”
“I’m not making love with you just because some ghost says I should.”
“No, of course not. A lot of what he said to you sounds like what he said to me.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her to the sofa. “I’m glad we’re getting out of Florence. We both need a break from ghosts and visions. Montefioralle should do the trick. The fresh country air, the views. The home-made pizza.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You’ll feel better as soon as we get there, I guarantee it.”
Her eyebrows lifted and she smirked at his exaggerated expression. “You sure know how to get my attention. Fresh air is nice—but seducing me with pizza isn’t fair. Really, Alex, you’re figuring out all my weaknesses.”
“Hey, I’m just following Giuliano’s instructions.” He grinned. “Besides, I need to check in with my manager and see how the grape harvest is coming along.”
“I’m excited to see your vineyard.” She smiled. “And to relax. These episodes are so taxing. I need some recovery time. Not only have we discovered that we were Giuliano and Fioretta but Gerhard and Sophia. It adds another layer to what’s happening. I need to put some distance between the past and the present, if only for a short time.”
“Agreed.” He glanced at his watch. “Where the hell is that food delivery?” He phoned the restaurant and after a brief exchange, he hung up. “The restaurant is backed-up on their deliveries. I’m going to run over there and pick up the order. You’ll be fine here by yourself?”
“Sure. I’ll set the table.”
“Back in a flash.”
Alex, immersed in his own thoughts about Angela, paid little attention to the people he passed on the street. A few blocks from the Palazzo Rucellai he ducked into an alleyway that was a shortcut to the restaurant. He realized too late that he was being followed. A giant of a man approached from behind. Instinctively, he reached for his gun and cursed when he realized he’d left it back home.
Glancing ahead, he spied another thug walking toward him from the other end of the alley, blocking off any possible escape. The second assailant was slender, shorter and farther away. He could tell by his stance and his hesitant approach he’d be the lesser threat.
Scordato. It has to be him. Who else would be doing this? Alex wasn’t working on any other cases. Max had paid him handsomely to be his exclusive client until the painting was found. No, this had Scordato’s stench all over it.
Alex had checked in with Fellows yesterday while he was making dinner for Angela—the Getty board member informed him that they’d fired Scordato. Alex was happy about that, but it also meant that the scumbag was completely free to indulge his machinations and plotting…
But there was no time to think about his hated adversary right now. Only his military training would save his ass. He was outnumbered, and he knew he had to strike preemptively. Neither man held a gun, but that didn’t mean they weren’t packing.
When Green Giant was just behind him, Alex struck like a lightning bolt with a roundhouse kick landing solidly on the guy’s genitals. The thug doubled over cursing. But Alex wasn’t done with him yet. He followed up with a knuckle punch to the solar plexus, toppling the giant to the ground.
Alex shifted his attention to the second assailant, but he turned too late. Bean Pole clearly moved faster than his buddy, Green Giant and came running at him with a switchblade. Alex lifted his arm, the blade slashing through his leather jacket and slicing through his skin. Searing pain lanced through him.
Utilizing the rush of adrenaline that roared through his body, he focused on the wiry thug. Bean Pole circled him, warily, blade ready, his eyes darting back and forth from Alex to his partner writhing on the ground. Alex rushed him, his fists gripped tight into weapons, he punched and made contact with Bean Pole’s jaw, sending his head snapping backward. He followed through with a kick to the ribs and the knife went flying.
Behind him, Green Giant was still out of commission on the pavement, except for an occasional groan. Another minute and he’d be recovered enough to reattack. Alex knew he could continue to fight, but he also knew his chances of winning were diminishing. He was bleeding like a stuck pig. Glancing back at the giant who was just beginning to move, he turned and delivered a powerful chop to Bean Pole’s neck, striking him precisely at the vagus nerve. With his blood pressure and heart rate disrupted, the man dropped like a stone.
Alex gripped his injured arm to staunch the flow of blood and made a dash for the end of the alley. The bistro sat kitty-cornered, less than a block away.
All told, Alex had been gone less than an hour, but for Angela it felt like forever. She paced restlessly, terrible scenarios playing over and over in her mind. When she heard the key in the door she rushed to the entrance, calling his name. Alex was locking the bolt and security chain when she threw her arms around him. “I was so worried about you.”
He gasped, dropping the bag of food. She felt him stiffen and, stepping back, saw the blood. “Oh, my God.” Horrified, she stared at his torn and bloody jacket. “What happened?”
His good arm pulled her close. “It’s okay, just a scratch. I’ll be fine.”
“But what happened?”
“Two thugs ambushed me in an alley. My fault—”
“Why?” Her hands cupped his face. “Were you robbed?”
His hesitation told her everything. “Scordato did this.”
“Believe me, my arm is nothing compared to what those two goons are feeling right now.”
“Alex, this isn’t a game. If he’s capable of this, who knows how far he’ll go?”
“We’ll be exercising a little more caution from here on in. He’s probably just trying to scare me because he blames me for the board firing him. And we know, he wants the painting. He has no job, and his career is on the line, so he’s stepping up his game.”
“I’m scared, Alex. You could have been killed.”
“Baby, I’ve been doing this a long time. I can handle a couple of thugs.” He caressed her face. “Why don’t you take the food to the table while I change my clothes?”
“We’ll deal with the food later, I want to see that cut.”
“Please, Angela, just do as I ask.”
“No.”
She slipped her arm around his waist and went upstairs with him. Like an army general, she told him to strip and asked him where the first aid kit was.
Turning back to him, she sucked in her breath at the deep gash in his arm, oozing blood. “You need stitches.”
“It’s nothing, Angela. There’s butterfly tape in the first aid kit.”
“It’s not nothing.” She bit her lip. Willing the tears away, she swabbed the cut and applied antibiotic cream, then ba
ndaged it securely.
“Why didn’t you come back here right away?”
“I was hungry. I wanted to pick up the food.”
She rolled her eyes. “What are we going to do about Scordato?”
“Don’t worry about him. Once we find the painting, he’ll crawl back under the rock where he came from, his tail between his legs.”
“What if he tries again? Or does something worse?”
“I’ll be ready for him.” His hand touched her cheek. “Trust me, Angela. I’ll protect you.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you.”
“Don’t. I promise everything will be all right.”
His hand slid down to her shoulder. A tremor shot through her. She glanced away, focusing on zipping up the medical bag, fighting the burning desire to demand more from him. If she opened that particular Pandora’s box there would be no turning back. The fire that flared between them would consume her, burning down any emotional defenses she had left.
Chapter 11
Florence, Italy
August 9, 2018
“My lady, your coach awaits you.”
Angela was certain she must be dreaming. “Is this your car?”
Alex held open the door of a gleaming red Testarossa Ferrari. “No, it’s just one of my cars.” He smiled, closing the passenger side door. “A hobby of mine is buying old cars, fixing them up, and re-selling them. This one’s new though, and I can’t wait to get it out on the road.”
“I’ve never been in a car that’s worth more than a house in my hometown.” She ran her hand over the luxurious leather dash.
He cleared his throat, his face flushing as he hefted their bags and stored them in the trunk.
“Private art detective must pay well,” she added with a smile, to soften her comment as he got in beside her. From what he’d told her so far about his childhood, he’d certainly grown up in a more affluent setting than she had.
