by Diana Duncan
Men surrounded her. In the melee of shouted questions and grabbing hands, they determined she was unhurt and took Dante from her. Her heart lodged in her throat as she watched his limp, bleeding body being winched up to the helicopter. The chopper sped away, and she was hoisted into a boat. Someone draped blankets around her and led her below, out of the wind.
It seemed only minutes before they reached the port of Piraeus, but Ariana had lost all sense of time. The officers bundled her into a police car and drove her to the hospital, where she was locked inside a small exam room with two cops guarding the door. A nurse brought her dry scrubs and a pair of paper surgical booties. The woman took her vitals, dabbed ointment on her scrapes and then departed.
Nerve-racking minutes later, the door swung open. “Signorina Bennett.” A lanky Italian with graying hair, craggy features and wise brown eyes extended his hand. “I’m Colonnello Bernardo Moretti, with the Guardia di Finanza. I’m commanding the task force that is conducting this investigation. I apologize for the hasty transfer, but your safety was our utmost concern. I’m told a doctor will be available to see you soon.”
“I don’t need a doctor.” Ariana didn’t care that she sounded desperate. “There was a man with me—he was shot. His name is Dante. I need to know how he is. Please.”
Worry etched deep lines in the steely officer’s face. “I’m Dante’s lifelong friend, his mentor and his boss. He was rushed into surgery. The best way to help him right now is by telling me everything you know. I have no intention of leaving him, so I’ll be taking your statement here. My report will note that you needed to be observed by the medical staff after your ordeal. The moment we’re done, we’ll go to Dante.”
Her insides churned at the delay, but she was grateful the colonel had the position and influence to allow them to stay at the hospital. “All right. May I call my mother, first?” She phoned Sadie and asked her to bring dry clothes and check on Dante’s progress when she arrived. She arranged to meet her mother in the surgery suite.
For the next ninety minutes, Ariana recited details for Colonel Moretti, answered questions and anxiously watched the clock.
Finally, the colonel nodded. “I have what I need.”
Ariana accompanied him to the surgery suite, attempting to reconcile herself to Dante’s bombshell. She’d known Dante lied for a living. If he had told her he lied on the law’s side, she wouldn’t have worried about saving him from the Camorra or Tasia. Then again, she wasn’t thrilled with undercover cops, and probably would never have confided in him. “How long have you known Dante?”
“Since he was a boy.”
Dante had insisted he’d spoken the truth to her about his past. She frowned thoughtfully. “The mentor reference. You arrested him, right? Gave him the ‘scared straight’ treatment?”
“He told you?” Colonel Moretti threw her a startled look. “He never reveals his history. He must completely trust you.”
Her lips trembled. Had she profaned Dante’s trust and failed him? If she hadn’t interfered and called the FBI, he wouldn’t have been shot.
Tears welled in her eyes, and Moretti’s glance sharpened. “And you love him.”
Ariana nodded. “More than life.” She only prayed she’d have the chance to tell her tough guy how much he meant to her.
“Then he is very fortunate.”
Sadie met Ariana accompanied by a handsome older Greek man she recognized as Elias Stamos.
“Mom, how is Dante?”
Sadie hugged her. “No one will tell us anything.”
Her breath caught. That couldn’t be good.
Colonel Moretti left to fax Ariana’s statement to the police station and elicit information about Dante. Sadie introduced Ariana to Elias. He warmly clasped her hand. “I’m so sorry for your troubles. I’ve arranged a private waiting area where you can speak to your mother.”
Ariana trudged into the room, her shoulders heavy with dread. Sadie drew Ariana down beside her on a sofa. “Honey, are you all right?
Ariana sighed. “Everything’s gone to hell, Mom.”
“It will be all right, honey.” Sadie gently kissed her cheek. “Now, who is this Dante you’re so concerned about?”
“He’s an undercover officer.” She related a censored version of the past six weeks. Certain things you just didn’t tell your mom. “We grew very close. He protected me.” Her voice caught. “The bullets they’re removing from his body were meant for me.”
“He must have an iron will.” Sadie patted her hand. “Such a strong, brave man will make it through this.”
“He has to,” Ariana whispered. She couldn’t bear to think otherwise.
Elias entered with a tray of coffee mugs. Ariana saw Moretti behind him and surged to her feet. “What did you find out?”
“Nothing new. We’ll be informed when Dante is out of surgery.” The colonel shook his head. “He was already in position on the yacht when the FBI arranged Ariana’s meeting. A hazard of interagency undercover operations.”
An hour later, his cell phone rang and he strode outside. He returned smiling. “That didn’t take long. Giorgio Tzekas was picked up attempting to sell a Hellenic fish plate in a gay bar in Gazi. Sniveled like a baby when he was arrested.” His smile broadened. “We used Ariana’s deposition to threaten him and Father Connelly—Mike O’Connor—with accessory to attempted murder, and they sang louder than Pavarotti. Yvonne Esposito and Anastasia Catomeris are going to prison for a long time.”
Anastasia Catomeris. The final piece of the puzzle fell into place. Since there was no C in ancient Greek, Tasia was the A/K mentioned so often in her father’s notes.
Elias started. “Anastasia is involved?”
“She was framing you for smuggling artifacts aboard Alexandra’s Dream.” Ariana refused coffee. She couldn’t swallow anything past the fear. Why didn’t anyone know Dante’s condition? “She claimed you’d taken advantage of her and was furious that you never publicly acknowledged Theo.”
“I don’t suppose she mentioned she calculatedly got pregnant in order to marry into my money?” Elias sighed. “I made mistakes where Theo was concerned, but he and I have reached an understanding. I hate to see him hurt like this.” He glanced at Colonel Moretti. “I should be the one to break the news to him about his mother.”
Moretti nodded. “That will be arranged.” He inclined his head at Ariana. “The head nurse offered the staff’s locker room for you to bathe. We could be here a while, and you’ll be more comfortable.”
Ariana hesitated, then decided she could worry as easily in the shower. And if…no…when Dante came to, she wouldn’t smell like bargain day at the fish market.
A nurse led her down the hallway. Ariana rushed through her shower holding sorrow at bay. Her last words to Dante had been I’m furious with you. She hadn’t meant them, but he didn’t know that. What if—
Don’t think like that. He’ll be okay. She hastily donned the gray slacks, sapphire blouse and black flats her mother had brought.
She hurried back, still braiding her wet hair. Colonel Moretti stood in front of the nurses’ station talking to a nurse in blood-spattered surgical scrubs. The nurse offered him a clear plastic bag. “Here are his effects.”
Ariana stumbled to a halt in the corridor. Effects? A familiar watch was in the bag with a wallet and a gun.
Moretti grimly accepted the package.
Her heart lurched, and she broke into a run. “Colonel? What’s happened to Dante?”
Colonel Moretti jerked his gaze up. “Ariana. Come with me.” He put an arm around her and guided her into an empty room. “I’m so sorry, bella.”
Oh, Dante. Pain squeezed the breath from her lungs. No. She couldn’t bear to hear this.
Moretti closed the door, then turned and grasped her shoulders. “Let me explain. We had to tell everyone, the press, the staff, that Dante was dead. We had to make them believe it. You weren’t supposed to overhear.”
Fragile wings of hope
fluttered inside her. “What are you saying?”
“Dante has worked inside the Camorra a long time. He was checked into the hospital under his cover name. The mob must not doubt he’s dead. Then he’ll be safe.”
“But he’s…alive?”
“Sì. We’ve moved him to a secret location where he’ll be monitored by trusted medical personnel.”
The smothering weight dropped off her chest and a swoop of relief weakened her knees. “I want to be with him.”
“I expected as much.” Moretti nodded. “I apologize for unintentionally causing you distress. I had planned to bring you to Dante after we relocated him.”
She explained the situation to her mother, and then Colonel Moretti drove Ariana to a private clinic outside the city. The doctor there told her Dante had grazed his head during the fall and sustained a superficial scalp wound. His Kevlar-reinforced jacket had blocked two bullets to his chest, and one bullet had lodged in his upper arm. There was no major muscle damage and he would regain full range of motion. His wounds were not serious, but he needed to sleep off the sedatives.
She hurried into Dante’s room. He was pale, but his chest rose and fell with strong, rhythmic breaths. Humbled and grateful for the miracle, she reached out shaking fingers and gently touched his hand.
Ariana watched over him as he drifted in and out of sleep, only leaving him for a short visit to the lab. She was glad, and yet at the same time a little upset by the results of her pregnancy test. How would Dante feel about it?
When she got back to his room, she phoned Sadie with an update on Dante’s condition, and her mom concurred she should stay with him.
She tenderly brushed his thick, dark hair back from the bandage at his forehead. As if she was going anywhere.
Rain started to fall sometime during the night. Cold and shivering in the dark, she carefully crawled into the hospital bed on Dante’s uninjured side. She curled up next to him and tumbled into an uneasy sleep.
“HO FAME.” Dante’s hoarse mutter startled Ariana awake.
His sooty lashes fluttered and she looked into alert but puzzled brown eyes. She sat up and smiled. “You’re hungry? That’s a good sign.”
“Ariana?” He glanced warily around. “Where are we?”
“Private clinic. Do you remember what happened?”
He hesitated. Blinked. “Sì.” Anger flared, and he looked away. When he focused on her again, his expression was guarded. “You were not injured?”
Her heart wrenched. Was he angry with her? “I’m fine, thanks to you.”
“How long was I out?”
“A little over twenty-four hours.” Hours of waiting and worry. “By the way, you were admitted as Vincenzo Liberatore.”
“I am getting up.” He threw back the covers.
“No!” She pressed the call button. “Ask the nurse first.”
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and grimaced at his hospital gown. “Where are my clothes?”
“Between seawater and blood…” She faltered, and his gaze narrowed. “They were wrecked.” She removed a bag of clothing and personal care items from the cupboard and set them on the bed. “Bernardo brought you these.”
“Va bene.” He ripped off the tape from his IV and yanked the needle from his arm.
“You can’t do that!” She ran for the door. “Help!”
A dark-haired pixie hurried into the room, and Ariana waved at Dante. “Tough guy jerked out his IV!”
The nurse strode up to Dante. “Get back into bed and I’ll check your vitals—”
“I’ve had enough rest.” He picked up his clothes. “I’m going to shower and shave. Then I am leaving.” He stalked into the bathroom and shut the door.
“Seems steady enough.” The nurse turned to Ariana. “Is he always that…ah…”
Ariana wrinkled her nose. “Uh-huh.”
“I wish you luck.” The nurse left to prepare discharge papers.
Ariana paced the room. She needed every ounce of luck. Dante had awakened as grumpy as a grizzly after hibernation. He’d said, I am leaving. Not we.
No longer forced to babysit her, was he about to tell her to get lost? Her chest tightened. Not that she would blame him.
She heard the shower stop. Dante called out a request for a dry bandage for his arm. Her attempt to convince him to ring the nurse was unsuccessful. He insisted his stitches looked fine and opened the door a crack to accept the bandage.
Minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom amidst a cloud of laurel-scented steam. He was wearing snug, faded jeans and a white button-down shirt rolled over his tanned forearms. His silky hair was damp and tousled, his chiseled face clean-shaven. He looked gorgeous, and capable and still murderously angry.
He sat on the bed and pulled on socks and brown boots. If he was in pain, his abrupt movements didn’t show it. “What is happening with the case?”
“The cops arrested Giorgio and Father Connelly, who sold out Tasia, who then sold out Esposito. Antiquities were recovered from Alexandra’s Dream and the island and the authorities are investigating all of Tasia’s dealings.”
He stood and shrugged into a brown leather jacket. “It is over, then.”
“Is it?” She gulped. “Over?”
He held her gaze, his beautiful eyes unreadable. “We have much to discuss. In private.”
That sounded ominous.
They ate a quick, silent breakfast of eggs, toast and coffee in the room. Then Dante had a behind-closed-doors consultation with the doctor and signed himself out.
Ariana barely clung to her faltering composure as a cab ferried them to a nearby hotel. Dante checked in as Roberto Serrano and paid with cash. How many aliases did this guy have?
The luxurious room on the sixth floor was an elegant blend of sea-and-sand colors. She walked to the window and stared out at wet terra-cotta roofs and wind-lashed trees. “Are you Vincenzo, Roberto, Dante…or none of the above?”
He strode up behind her. “I didn’t lie to you about my name.”
“I wasn’t accusing. Just asking.” She turned and saw him removing his jacket. He leaned to toss it onto a chair, and the V of his shirt gaped, revealing a dark bruise. Ariana gasped. “What caused that?”
He looked down, shrugged. “Bullets slamming into Kevlar.”
She stepped close and unbuttoned his shirt, shoving aside his blocking hands. “No, let me see.”
She parted the placket. Two huge purple bruises mottled his bronzed skin. One was on his left pectoral muscle. With shaking fingers, she gently touched the other—directly over his heart. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tears welled up, spilled down her cheeks.
“Shh.” Dante gathered her into his embrace. “Don’t cry.”
“This is my fault.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It was my fault you were shot. Then I thought you were dead,” she sobbed. “It was all to deceive the Camorra, but I thought you were dead.”
He swore. “Mia cara, I am sorry.”
“You nearly died for me.”
“I was fully aware of my actions.” He held her, rocked her while she cried. “I will not let you accept liability.”
“You were pulled off duty because of my investigation, and it ruined your cover inside the mob. I put your career and your life at terrible risk.” She choked back sobs. “Believe me, I understand the resentment of having your life shanghaied by forces beyond your control.”
He tensed. “Exactly. It infuriated me, as it did you.”
Enveloped in Dante’s warm strength, in his scent, wrapped in his arms, realization hit. She’d botched his case, jeopardized his career and his life, and he was mad. Rightly so. But she’d spent six weeks telling him how much she hated being lied to. How much she hated cops. He was leery because he also thought she was angry with him.
She inhaled slowly…and leaped without a net. “Dante, the reason I turned you in to the FBI is because I wanted what was best for you. Because
…I love you.”
He went absolutely still. “Che cosa?” he asked hoarsely.
“When I thought I’d lost you, it was the most horrible moment of my life.” She looked up into his wary brown eyes. “Ti amo, Dante. I love you.”
“I think…I need to sit.” He walked to the bed and dropped onto the edge of the mattress.
She knelt in front of him, nerves jittering. Was his reaction good or bad? “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know anymore.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I am furious, bella. But not with you. With myself.” Anguish swam in his gaze. “Every man in your life has lied to you. Betrayed you. I have lied to you since the moment we met. How can you say you love me after I caused you great pain?”
She rested her palms on his knees. “Dante, you have also given me the greatest joy.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “All these years, I have lived only for my job. A job you despise. I have nothing to offer you. No ancestry, no history, no family.” He swallowed hard. “Not even a legitimate name.”
“Wrong, tough guy. You possess many priceless treasures. Integrity. Courage. Loyalty. Honor.” She touched his cheek. “You’re everything I want. Everything I need.”
His breath caught. He took her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. “Come.” He drew her up to sit beside him and gently wiped the moisture from her cheeks. “There are things I must say.”
Her stomach cramped. He hadn’t said he loved her back.
His big hand enveloped hers. “When we separated at the ship, Bernardo was aboard, watching the others, and you. Not just for surveillance, but also because I asked him to personally guard you.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“I was under strict orders not to tell you anything, though it damn near killed me. Because you were asking questions, talking to your father’s contacts, you were not only a protected witness, but also a suspect.”
“Oh.” She held his somber gaze. “So when you and I…on the island…you risked your case and your entire career.”
