Oxblood

by AnnaLisa Grant

  “Maybe so, but”—he ran his fingers through his blond hair—“I used to have this all figured out. Then you show up and remind me what it was like to have people you would travel halfway around the world to save. I haven’t seen that, haven’t felt that, in a really long time. And now all I can think about is keeping you safe because I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you.”

  Ian rested his hands on his hips and looked at the floor. It was like he was embarrassed to have let his emotions take over.

  “Hey,” I said as I moved closer to him. “You don’t have to be a machine to do your job, Ian.”

  “Yes, I do. I can’t . . .”

  “You can’t what?” I asked softly.

  He lifted his head and swallowed hard. “I can’t look at you and feel what I feel. Emotions get in the way. In the face of an impossible situation, I can’t be sure I’ll make the right decision. And that’s unacceptable.”

  “What is it, exactly, that you feel?”

  Ian shook his head. “That first night, when I sat across from you at dinner, you stirred up parts of me that I thought were long gone. The problem is I haven’t been able to shut that valve off since then. I’ve tried being harsh with you, wearing you down, but damn it if you don’t just get back up again.”

  Ian cupped my face with one hand and ran his thumb across my cheek. An electric current shot through me, and the emotions I’d been pushing down fought their way back up.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this I’m not even sure what it is. It’s not that I haven’t encountered beautiful women before. It’s that I’ve never come face to face with Victoria Asher. Why do I feel like you’re going to be responsible for my undoing?”

  I was supposed to say Gil’s name to get us back on track and remind us of why I was there. I was supposed to remove his hand from my face. I was supposed to tell him not to say the things he was saying because they made feelings that scared me bubble up in me.

  But the truth was, when I looked at him and he looked back at me, I felt stronger than I ever had before. I wanted him to keep speaking from the heart, keep talking about the way we made each other feel. I wanted him to hold my face with both of his hands. And I wanted him to kiss me because I knew that a kiss from Ian Hale would be unlike any kiss I had ever had or would ever have again.

  But I didn’t tell him those things. And he didn’t do those things.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He lowered his hand and turned to the window.

  “Don’t be.” I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying any more.

  When Ian turned back around, he looked at me, and I wordlessly reminded him that I was there to find Gil and would leave as soon as that was resolved. My time in Italy would be a story that no one could believe anyway. A dream so vivid that even I wouldn’t be able to separate fact from fiction.

  “I suppose I would rather keep my eyes on you to ensure your safety,” Ian finally said. “It’s only right. Gil is your brother, after all.”

  “So it’s settled. I’m staying. Right here. By your side,” I told him.

  “Yes.” His eyes were still soft. I couldn’t deny how I felt when Ian looked at me that way. I knew he felt it, too. I wondered how long we could keep up the facade of being just teammates.

  “So now what?” I asked.

  “Now we have to figure out what the hell Bianca is doing.” He walked past me toward the door and I followed him out into the living room.

  “That bitch! I totally saved her ass in Moscow, and now she’s a traitor?” Carter was fuming. Apparently, Damon’s update on Bianca was enough to distract him from the shock of my presence.

  “We don’t know enough yet,” Ian said. “Damon, what did you find on Scarpone?”

  “I made some calls and tracked him to Parma, but my friend with the local police said they pulled his body from a burning car a week ago,” Damon replied.

  Ian sighed and gave me an apologetic look. “Okay. Thanks.”

  My heart sank at having lost what had been the only solid lead on Gil’s location.

  Claudia still had Bianca’s face frozen on the screen. The black-and-white surveillance video didn’t reveal too much, but from what I could tell, she was a small woman. With delicate, feminine features, it was hard to see her as a ruthless agent. Especially one who was spearheading a hunt for Ian’s team.

  “So how do we find out why they’re after us?” I asked.

  “We’ll ask around,” Damon answered.

  “You’ll ask around?” I replied. “We need to smoke out a potential hazard to our team, not find a good place to eat on a Friday night.”

  “Hey! Newbie!” Carter called to me. “You do whatever it is you do, and we’ll do our job.”

  “You’re so grumpy after you’ve been shot at,” Eva yelled to Carter before she turned to me. “There are always a few locals who have their ear to the ground. Damon, Ian, Carter, me, we each have our go-to guys. We toss a little money their way, and they’re willing to find out whatever we need.”

  The group broke up, each pursuing individual tasks. Eva gestured at me, and I followed her to a set of chairs.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Seriously, though, what is his problem?”

  Even seated, Eva was wonderfully tall, just like Tiffany. “I wasn’t joking when I said being shot at made him grumpy,” she explained. “But outside of that, Carter is a suspicious person. It’s the training. It’s what we do, living among the enemy. And then this skirmish happens and suddenly you’re here? It’s just his natural instinct to question you. Don’t take it personally. It’ll wear off. In the meantime, expect more attitude, but don’t be afraid to give it back to him.” She leaned in closer. “What you did earlier was impressive. It’s a natural skill? You don’t have any training?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I’ve just always been observant. My dad used to have his buddies over to play poker when I was a kid. He would sit me on his lap and point out everything the guys did to show they were bluffing or had a great hand. I got really good at picking up little details about people,” I told her.

  She nodded. “It’s a great skill. Just make sure you’re focusing on the right things. It may take a while before you can differentiate between good and evil, safe and dangerous, trustworthy and devious. In this industry, the lines can get blurred.”

  Eva got up and disappeared into the kitchen. My mind was buzzing with everything we needed to figure out, and quickly. Was Bianca after us or Gil? Or both? Where was Gil? Was he in hiding or being held captive? And who was the mysterious Paolo?

  I looked around the apartment. Ian and Damon were speaking quietly, Claudia was still engrossed in figuring out how Bianca’s team had gotten past their security, and Eva, Adam, and Carter were huddled around the kitchen table salivating over weapons.

  I needed a break. I stood up, crossed the room, grabbed a hoodie from the hook next to the front door, and slid into the hall.

  I moved quickly down the stairs and outside with the hood pulled over my head. I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going, but I knew I needed a little space, even if just for a few minutes.

  It was a charming town, like the Italy I had imagined—before joining a Rogue team and trying to stay alive—with basilicas and bell towers, ancient Roman ruins and museums, piazzas and streets filled with people. I watched a man adjust the display in his wineshop, and above him on the second-floor balcony, a woman was watering pots of geraniums hooked over the railings. I listened to the voices in the streets and decided that Italian was the most beautiful language I’d ever heard.

  I wandered into a small park and sat on a bench. I only walked about three blocks. I had no intention of getting lost, especially considering the circumstances.

  Mothers held babies on their laps, while older kids ran around them, playing. Although the sun was beginning to s
et, there was still plenty of time left for the little ones to get out all their energy before dinner. I watched the children, and it reminded me of afternoons swinging at the park and walking on the beach with my own mother. Even though I missed her, the memories always calmed me, probably because it was impossible for me to think of her without being reminded of the lullaby she always hummed. I had long since forgotten the words, but the sweet melody was there.

  I took a deep breath and considered the last week of my life. How had I gone from having dinner at The Cheesecake Factory to flying to Italy and joining a secret organization within INTERPOL?

  At least I wasn’t in it alone. If I trusted my gut, I couldn’t say I was 100 percent sure about Carter. My mom always told me that suspicious people were, in fact, suspicious themselves. But I knew I was absolutely sure I could trust Ian. As long as I had him, I was going to be okay.

  “Do you want to tell me what the hell you’re doing out here?” It was Ian. When I turned around, I could see he was panting.

  “Have you been running?” I flipped the hood of my sweatshirt off my head.

  “Yes, I’ve been running! I turn around and you’re nowhere to be seen.” He sat down next to me. “You realize it’s incredibly dangerous for you to walk around completely by yourself without telling anyone—especially since another Rogue agent is after us?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. After all we’d been through, I was not in the mood for another lecture.

  He seemed to get the point, and his face softened. “Why did you leave? What’s wrong?”

  I sighed. “I made a decision less than a week ago to hop on a plane and come to Italy to find my brother. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Everything at the hotel and the factory. Your team. You. It’s all so much. I just needed some air.” I hugged my knees to my chest. “I’m doing my best to follow your orders, and I know we’ve made progress on the journal, but I left everything behind to find Gil and we aren’t that much closer. It just makes me feel . . . helpless.”

  “I’m sorry. I never considered you would feel that way. Rogue agents . . . we typically feel empowered when we give all that up. With no ties to anyone or anything, we find freedom in this life. At least that’s what we tell ourselves.” Ian leaned back on the bench and looked at me.

  “I’m sorry I just walked out.”

  “It’s understandable.”

  We sat there for a moment in silence. It was comforting.

  “Ian,” I began. I turned to face him on the bench. “Before we go back, I just wanted to say thank you. I just showed up here and took over and you kind of went along.”

  “You didn’t really give me a choice now, did you?” he smiled.

  “No, I guess not. But you really made me feel like a part of the team when we were going through the journal. Believing that I was actually doing something to make a difference has helped.”

  Ian half smiled and sighed. His eyes found the ground and he shifted in his seat.

  “What is it? Did I get weird and make you uncomfortable? I made it weird, didn’t I?”

  “I have to tell you something,” he said, pausing. “I knew about the journal.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t know how he was chronicling it, but I knew he was keeping track of his findings in the journal.”

  “What?” I barked, standing up. Blood began to boil inside me. I immediately felt like we had wasted time. When we could have been looking for Gil, Ian and I were poring over information in the journal he already had.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me? Why did you make me go through all of that?” I began to pace. I tried to stay calm, but I knew I was making a scene.

  “Gil sent you the journal for a reason. There had to be something in there, some ace up his sleeve that he’d been holding on to for whatever reason. You were the key to finding it, but—”

  “But what?”

  “But, so far, I already knew everything that we’ve found.”

  “You put me through all of that for nothing. When you realized there was no new information in there, you could have said something. You could have been honest with me, but you weren’t. You asked me to trust you and I did, but now I see that was a huge mistake!”

  Ian took me by my shoulders, locking his serious eyes on mine. “You’re drawing attention to us. Now, either you need to slap me across the face like we’re having a lover’s quarrel, or we need to take this inside.”

  Going back to the apartment was not an option, and my fury was just ripe enough to accept his invitation.

  Without hesitation, I lifted my right hand and let it fly.

  Chapter 14

  Ian’s head popped to the side, his eyes shut tight. He paused before lifting his head, which I thought was just for effect since I had been present for a bloodier brawl than this. He rubbed his palm over the cherry-red mark on his cheek and stared at me. I was about to let off another round of fury when Ian grabbed my shoulders again and pressed his lips against mine.

  His kiss was hard and rough, like he was proving a point. Then he dropped his arms from my shoulders and wrapped them around my waist, pulling me closer to him. His kiss became soft and tender. He moved one hand to my face and then behind my neck.

  I kissed him back, hard, then soft, too. I ran my fingers through his hair and gripped his shoulders. My body was humming with energy, responding to every point where his body touched mine. It was electrifying. It was everything I knew it would be, and more.

  When Ian pulled away, we stood there in each other’s arms the way lovers do after a make-up kiss: dazed, goofy, fired up. We smiled like we were different people. People who weren’t being chased by a deadly Rogue agent. People who would not be forced to say good-bye soon.

  It didn’t last long. Reality set in, and we let each other go.

  “So,” I said, bringing us back to the issue that catapulted us into that life-changing kiss. “You’ve known about everything in the journal?”

  “Yes. I told you Gil had been reporting to me. He told me he was keeping everything meticulously documented. The journal entries aren’t what I imagined, but it contains everything he had already disclosed to me.”

  “I feel like such an idiot.”

  “Don’t. Like I said, Gil sent you the journal for a reason. There’s got to be something in there that he knew only you could decipher.” Ian took my hand and brought me to sit down on his lap. “We need to look like a couple who just made up. Italians are known for how passionate they can be. This scene is quite normal to them.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, but I had no problem playing along. Being near him was addictive. Just the thought of letting his hand go was like a punch in the stomach. “Okay.” He wrapped his arms around my body, and I rested my head against his.

  “By the way, thank you for not slapping me again,” Ian said.

  “Day’s not over yet.” I smirked.

  “Honestly, Victoria, I’ve really been waiting for you to come up with some insight that Gil didn’t give me.”

  “I understand that, Ian. So what do we do in the meantime?”

  “Damon is going to put out some feelers with his contacts, and hopefully we’ll hear from a local or two about any out-of-the-ordinary activity in town,” Ian answered.

  “Won’t Bianca and her people be following us?” I asked nervously.

  “There are fifty safe houses in Italy. It’ll take them a while to locate this one. Claudia also increased the sensitivity on the security system and is constantly monitoring it for any irregularities.” Ian threaded his fingers through mine as we continued to put on a “show.”

  I sighed and turned my thoughts back to the journal and reading about Gil and Maria’s sad story at the end.

  “What’s wrong?” Ian asked.

  “I wa
s just thinking about how difficult it must have been for Gil to have seen something so similar to his own story go down.” I wondered what the connection was between the Italian mob and Gil’s story about Maria.

  “I know we’re pretending to be a couple, but I really can’t read your mind,” he laughed.

  I echoed his laughter to keep up the facade. “The story about the girl at the end of the journal. It had to have been awful to watch someone else go through that tragedy.”

  Ian’s face turned serious. “What are you talking about?”

  “You said you knew about everything in the journal,” I stammered, my face puzzled.

  “I said I knew everything so far.” Ian stood, taking me with him. “But we haven’t covered that story yet.”

  “Oh my God!” I covered my mouth as Ian and I both realized that Gil wanted me to share Maria’s story. Ian took my hand, and we hurried back to the apartment while I told him everything I knew about Gil and Maria. “And just when he was already heartbroken enough from not hearing from her, we turned the TV on one night to find out she had been murdered, found dead in a brothel.”

  “So she tells Gil that her family is being deported, he doesn’t hear from her for months, and then she shows up dead?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where are her parents?”

  “Don’t know. Gil never heard back from any of them when he tried to get in touch with her,” I told him. “What’s the connection here?”

  We stopped in the middle of the stairwell up to the apartment, and Ian lowered his voice. The space was dimly lit and musty. “Do you remember when I told you how parts of some mob families were venturing into more dangerous territory?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you remember me saying that Paolo was photographed at an all-girls school just before three of them disappeared?”

  I nodded.

  “What I didn’t tell you is that wherever he goes, there ends up being an increase in missing persons reports. The authorities have written off those last three girls as runaways. But there has also been a spike of children under the age of ten who have gone missing.” Ian sighed. “I think they’re kidnapping and selling these kids. The teens are most definitely being trafficked in the sex trade. The younger ones could be as well, but may be shipped off to sweatshops. If they’re lucky, they’re being sold in illegal adoptions.”