The Amalfitano's Bold Abduction (The Italian Billionaires Collection)

by Jennifer Blake

  “You will be too hot,” Andrea said in warning.

  “Will I?” She held the cat up so she could look into the slits that centered his blue eyes. “What do you think, sir?”

  The answer to her question was a rather meek meow.

  “Perhaps you are right, my feline friend. Onto the back seat with you then.”

  It was a miniscule victory, this acceptance of his advice, but Andrea would take whatever encouragement he could get. He waited until the cat was settled. Then he took off again.

  They zipped over the hillsides with the wind in their hair and warm sun slanting in under the cart’s fiberglass top to slide over their faces. Andrea lifted a hand to acknowledge the waves of islanders is their garden patches, women pegging laundry on clothes lines where it flapped in the constant sea breeze, and children playing in dooryards. A trio of boys chased after them on their bikes, caught up with them long enough to yell a greeting and receive one in return, and fell back, out of breath.

  They passed above the town, looking down on its tumble of buildings in colors softened to rainbow pastels by sun and salt water. It was a scene so familiar Andrea seldom noticed it, though it seemed picturesque today as he looked at it from Dana’s perspective. The roof of the community center needed repairing, just as his housekeeper had informed him, and the football field could use new fencing. He must see to these things. The owner of the new restaurant should be warned to dispose of his trash, as well.

  All these things fell to his lot, not that he minded. It was the tradition so could not be avoided.

  The town curved to follow the shape of the harbor, with a marina at its center. Colored an intense blue with only a hint of green, the anchorage was deep enough to support the usual fishing boats and give shelter to an occasional yacht during storms. A few sailboats bobbed and swayed beyond the breakwater, but there was nothing in that for concern, certainly nothing to cause alarm.

  This was the main landing for the island. The remaining coastline was too steep and rocky to be safe. That didn’t make access impossible.

  It was a moment before he realized his passenger had leaned forward, holding to the low windshield as she gazed past him.

  “You are okay, the swaying of the cart doesn’t bother you?” he asked.

  “Not at all. Should it?”

  “It affects some.”

  She gave him a steady stare. “Is there something you’re looking for down there?”

  “Something. Anything. Everything.” He spoke almost at random while squinting against the sun glare on the water. A boat he didn’t recognize lay offshore, drifting with the current. From this distance, he couldn’t tell if the two figures in it were there to swim, enjoy the sun and the water, or something more. The craft was fair-sized and built for speed rather than fishing, which seemed a bit suspicious.

  Sliding his cell phone from his pocket, he thumbed the screen, touched a number and gave a quiet order. With this taken care of, he moved on again.

  “What was that about?”

  “A precaution only.” He deliberately did not look back at the drifting boat before he continued almost at random. “Tell me how you became a policewoman. Was there nothing else you could have done?”

  “What’s wrong with the police?”

  He sent her an appraising glance. “You don’t seem the type.”

  “And what type might that be?”

  He wasn’t about to get into that. “Was your father perhaps in law enforcement?”

  “And my two brothers,” she said shortly.

  At least he had teased a little information from her. ‘You come from a large family then?”

  “Not really, only two boys and one girl, with the last being me, of course.”

  “But you are close?”

  “Close enough they will wonder what’s wrong if they don’t hear from me soon. My mother, in particular, is a worrier.”

  “You must call her then,” he said promptly. He didn’t know if what she’d said was true or a subtle warning, but it didn’t matter. His point was she was not being denied contact with the world beyond the island.

  “If I say the word, she will see to it my brothers are on the first plane for Italy.”

  He tilted his head. “Am I supposed to be intimidated?”

  “At the very least,” she said stoutly.

  “Sorry. But you would tell your mama to send them where?”

  She met his gaze, the light in her dark brown eyes as assessing as his own must have been moments before. “I expect they could figure out that part, once they have your name. If the island has been in the family as long as you say, its ownership can hardly be a secret.”

  That was correct, unfortunately. “But then they would have no jurisdiction here, no authority of any kind.”

  “Except what they may take for themselves.”

  “Like that, are they? If so, I might welcome them as reinforcements.”

  “Might you now?”

  She didn’t believe him. Ah, well, Andrea wasn’t sure he believed it himself. He had no wish for their privacy to be interrupted, not just yet. No, and maybe not at all.

  “Your English seems to be improving,” she said abruptly. “How is that?”

  “Extra use, I suppose,” he answered with a quick glance in her direction. “Give me another day or two, and I may develop a Southern drawl.”

  She gave a short laugh. “That would be awful.”

  “I don’t know. Yours is intriguing, even—sexy.”

  Color came and went under the pale red-head skin of her face with its dusting of freckles, though she seemed unaware of it. “But yours is fine just the way it is.”

  He drew back as if insulted. “Mine? I have no accent!”

  “No, and birds don’t fly.” Her soft chuckle died away. “Just how many languages do you speak?”

  “Only five, with a smattering of Greek.”

  She pretended to groan. “Only five or six.”

  “Well, and a little Japanese. Enough to find my way around Tokyo without starving.”

  “Stop it. Bragging is unbecoming.”

  He laughed at her look of disgust, even as he swerved onto a track that would take them to the far end of the island. The movement pressed her thigh against his from hip to knee, a warm firmness that made him think of the tender inner skin of those thighs, and how they would feel clamped upon him.

  “Languages are a knack,” he answered in distraction, “like counting cards or memorizing knitting patterns.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What do you know about knitting?”

  “Bella is a knitter. She is never without something on her needles as she claims it soothes her nerves.”

  “Are the two of you all there are?”

  Her question was only a polite attempt to keep the conversation going, Andrea thought, but answered anyway. “In the immediate family, yes. Our parents divorced when we were teenagers. Our mother went back to her family in Rome and our father retreated here. He died a year or two later in a boating accident. It was the two of us, Andrea and Bella, against the world.”

  “And still is, or so it appears to me.”

  She was right, not that he intended to admit it. As they topped a rise and saw the sea spread out as far as the eye could reach, he swung the cart in a half circle and came to a halt.

  “What is this?” she asked, glancing around. “Why are we stopping?”

  “This is the end of the line.”

  “You mean—Oh, I see, it's the far end of the island.”

  He gave a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. “What did you think I meant?”

  She hunched a shoulder without answering.

  She could not really have thought he meant to toss her over the edge of the headland? Could she? Andrea frowned at the thought. He must try harder to reassure her.

  Scooting away from him, perhaps from the heat of his body against hers, she stepped from the golf cart and walked to the cliff’s edge. The wind caught
the oversized shirt she wore, making it balloon around her. She crossed her arms over her chest and grabbed the excess knit fabric, holding it tight around her body.

  Andrea’s gaze was welded to the sight as he eased from the cart and followed after her. She didn’t intend anything by it, yet the tightly pulled shirt defined the svelte line of her back as it flowed into the curves of her hips in a way that set the blood to boiling in his veins. He wanted to trace the gentle shape with his hands, follow it with lips and tongue, cover it with his body. It was astounding, the power of that need.

  It was so mind-boggling, in fact, that he failed to notice the boat that skimmed toward them until it was less than a hundred yards away. It was sleek and white and left only a narrow white line for a wake. Two men stood in the cockpit.

  One of them was steering, though his gaze was fastened on Andrea and Dana where they stood on top of the cliff-like headland. The other had a rifle in hands.

  The deadly shape of the weapon was unmistakable. So was the movement as he lifted it to his shoulder.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Down!”

  The hard-voiced shout came from Andrea. Dana was already on the ground, rolling once, twice as a shot rang out behind her. She came up in scuttle position, making a beeline toward the golf cart.

  Andrea was right behind her, shielding her as they ran. They veered apart as they reached the small vehicle, him taking the driver’s side, her sprinting for the other. She slid inside with such force her shoulder slammed into his ribs as he did the same. She winced but wrenched away from him so he could set the cart in motion.

  He wheeled it in a wide arc and sent it careening away back down the track. Dana twisted this way and that, looking for Guaio. The cat was on the floorboard at her feet, crouched half under the seat with his ears laid back. Only when she was sure he was safe did she turn in her seat to look toward the sea behind them.

  A fishing trawler was bearing down upon the speed boat. Easily ten times its size, it pushed a huge bow wave ahead of it as it roared through the water. With its high prow and greater weight, it could easily cut the smaller boat in half.

  The cavalry had arrived, or so it seemed.

  The men in the speed boat had seen it, for they had sheared off with an arching plume of water, racing away like a rabbit with a hound after it. The gunman must have dropped down behind the windscreen for he was no longer in sight.

  “They’re leaving,” she said over her shoulder. “A fishing boat chased them off.”

  Andrea spared a quick backward glance while muttering something under his breath.

  A moment later, the rise of the headland cut off Dana’s view of the sea. She settled into her seat again, swinging to face him.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. Just that it’s about time someone showed up.”

  She studied the tense set of his features and the stiffness of his shoulders while aromatic shrubs, an ancient olive grove and the ruins of a stone cottage whipped past barely noticed. “That’s who you called,” she said finally. “You ordered that fishing boat to patrol the island.”

  “A precaution only,” he answered with a short nod. “I didn’t expect to be shot at.”

  “Just what did you expect?”

  He shrugged without answering.

  That was a male habit Dana despised when her brothers tried it. “Someone coming in close enough to watch the villa maybe?” she asked in exasperation. “Guys in black rappelling up a cliff face to kidnap Guaio out of his carrier? What?”

  “I’m not sure. I just didn’t like the look of them.”

  “Neither did I, but—”

  He turned his head to look at her, slowing the cart at the same time. “But what?”

  “I don’t see what they expected to gain. I mean, I’m not familiar with the island or even this part of the world, but landing a boat below where we were standing looked to be a dicey proposition. As for firing the rifle, the chance of actually hitting one of us was next to zero from a moving boat and with that high angle.”

  “Next to zero is still too close,” he said drily.

  “I suppose the point could have been to deliver a message. If so, they must not know you well.”

  He gave a short laugh. “No? Because?”

  “You’re far too arrogant to be easily intimidated.” She went on without waiting for a reply. “Regardless, this business seems to involve a ridiculous amount of muscle and firepower for a cat.”

  “Even one as superior as Guaio?”

  She could become addicted to the glint of humor that lurked half-hidden in his eyes most of the time. Yes, in spite of her irritation. “Or a dozen more like him.”

  “Heaven forbid there should be such a thing. I do agree it’s time I talk to Bella, find out her ideas about what’s going on. As irrational as Rico can be at times, it’s hard to believe he would go this far.”

  “Well, but if it’s not Rico behind it, who else could it be?”

  “That is the question,” he answered, all trace of humor gone from his voice.

  The quiet that settled between them was broken only by the electric hum of the cart, the whisper of its tires on the paved track and the distant cries of gulls that circled above the island. The sun was warm on Dana’s face and the breeze like gentle fingers as it ruffled through her hair.

  Slowly, the adrenaline faded from her bloodstream to be replaced by a strange lassitude. The harrowing moments back there on the headland seemed surreal, like a bad dream that vanished on awakening.

  She grew steadily more aware of the man beside her, of his scent of clean linen, subtle men’s cologne and fresh air. Her shoulder where it brushed his arm as they were jostled by the uneven pathway seemed super-sensitive, so she felt every movement of his muscles. Her thigh tingled along its length where it touched his, a sensation that radiated through her with disturbing power.

  What was the matter with her? She wasn’t some silly teenager who could be swayed by an autocratic manner and awesomely masculine face. She was no thrill-seeker turned on by the possibility that she might have been brought to the island for something more than the promise of a safe haven.

  If somewhere deep inside that seemed a shame, she wasn’t about to let such a reckless idea influence her.

  Well, all right, she’d been given an explanation that seemed plausible, even if a little off-the-wall. She could talk to her family whenever she elected. Though fairly confident of her ability to protect herself, she was neither stupid nor egotistical enough to suppose she could fight off men with guns while she was unarmed.

  The semi-confinement would only be for a day or two at most, until the situation could be changed. Would it really be such a bad thing to accept a few days of down time on a private island?

  Yes. Yes, it would.

  She should have been given a choice. What would have been so hard about explaining the situation in the beginning and letting her decide if she wanted the protection only a high-powered billionaire could provide?

  Of course, she wouldn’t have taken it. There was no way Andrea Tonello could have convinced her it was necessary just a few hours ago.

  Dana glanced at him as he sent the cart flying back toward the villa, noting his patrician nose, chiseled mouth, and eyes so narrowed in concentration that his lashes meshed at the corners. High-handed, macho, superior Italian. She wasn’t ready to forgive him, no matter how many times she was threatened or shot at. He didn’t deserve it, for one thing, but that wasn’t all. She couldn’t let down her guard, not now, maybe not ever. She didn’t dare as it seemed likely getting too close to Andrea might well be more dangerous than anything else.

  A curve appeared ahead of them, a sharp bend around what appeared to be roadside shrine of some kind. Andrea took it as if driving in the Le Mans, cutting it so short the cart tilted on two wheels. Dana, thrown off balance, slid on the seat, ramming her shoulder against his elbow. A short cry left her, and she grabbed at the spot with her free hand.<
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  “What is it?” he demanded, his gaze probing. “You weren’t hit by one of the rounds back there?”

  “No, I don’t—” She stopped in sudden recognition. “It’s just the place where Guaio held on while we dodged the car this morning.”

  “He clawed you?”

  “I guess you could call it that, though he didn’t mean to do it.”

  Exasperation crossed Andrea’s face as he sent a quick look toward where Guaio crouched at their feet. “Why didn’t you say so? Cat scratches are known for getting infected. That should have been cleaned and taken care of at once.”

  “I know that,” she returned with some ire. “My first aid kit was in my suitcase. Besides, I’ve been busy being abducted.”

  “Not that busy.” The incredulous look she gave him seemed not to faze him at all, for he went on at once. “Never mind, I’ll look at this injury when we reach the villa.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” she said with precision, “if you can provide antibiotic cream and a Band-Aid.”

  He didn’t answer. She hoped that meant he agreed with her intention, but somehow doubted it.

  The villa was in an uproar when they arrived back at the front entrance. Apparently Andrea’s instructions for the fishing boat had been instantly transmitted to every soul on the island, as had the news that rifle shots had been fired. He was met with cries of outraged sympathy, voluble questions and much waving of hands.

  Dana skirted the hubbub, making for the room she had been allotted. She was about to close the door behind her when she realized she’d been followed. Guaio, meowing loudly, padded after her and slid around the door. Once there, he leaped to the mattress of her bed, turned around twice, and lay down in the middle. From there he regarded her with interest, as if to ask just where she intended to lie down.

  “You, sir, are a—a guaio,” she told him with mock severity. “What makes you think I want your company, tell me that?”

  The cat blinked, and then yawned.

  “Yes, I know you missed your nap, but whose fault is that? I didn’t tell you to join us for the island tour. If you got more than you bargained for, don’t come complaining to me.”