The front desk attendant had stared at us like we were felons, only to have the television mounted on the wall behind her suddenly announce breaking news, a shot of the Mansion on O Street filling the screen, the blown apart scene swarming with medical personal and police officers.
The woman glanced from us to the screen, seeming to put the two together, and then gasped. “Let me get you a room,” she hurried to say. “Do you need to me to call anyone for you? Family? Friends? A doctor? You both should be seen.”
“I’ll call,” Rebecca had said, smiling sweetly. “Thank you, though.” She produced a credit card from her pants pocket.
The woman shook her head, typing something into her computer.
“I insist.” There was some force behind Rebecca’s words, causing the clerk to peer up in surprise.
The desk agent slowly took the card, regarding the two of us with narrowed eyes. “Okay,” she replied hesitantly.
A few minutes later, we were in our room, Rebecca on the phone with whomever she had decided to call. She spoke in hushed, rushed tones, her back to me.
Taking the opportunity to gather my own thoughts, I took in the sparse furnishings. There was a dresser situated beside the entrance, an old television set bolted to it. The bed sat directly across from it, beneath a window with heavy coverings. A desk sat in the corner, with a lamp and a notepad sitting on its surface. The bathroom was on the same side as the door, the sink area open to the rest of the space, with a private, closet sized room for the toilet and shower. Moving that direction, I frowned at my dirty, tired face in the mirror. When Rebecca appeared behind me, I saw the cut on her forehead again, and insisted she let me clean it for her.
“Are you okay?” she asked, bringing me back to the present.
Shrugging, I laughed. “I don’t know.”
Everything was so messed up. Scott could be dead. Kevin was a bad guy. Sam and Mark were time travelers.
When did my life become a summer blockbuster movie?
Her fingers wrapped around mine, gently prying the twisted rag from my hands and tossing it toward the bathroom. “Here.” She produced a Band-Aid, placing it in my palm. “Will you help me?”
Grateful for the distraction from my thoughts, I nodded, smiling tightly. She let go of my hands and I brushed her hair out of her face. I let my fingers trail through the dark locks, marveling at how soft they were after everything we’d been through.
Her eyes bored into my own, a strange, electric silence suddenly present between us. I was instantly hyperaware of her lips, the desire to lean in and kiss them almost overwhelming me.
Swallowing hard, I turned my attention to the bandage, focusing on removing the wrapper. My heart hammered in my chest as I pressed the sticky ends against her skin, smoothing the Band-Aid gently across the cut.
“It’s not bleeding anymore. That’s good, I guess.” The words were like cotton in my mouth. All I could think of was grabbing her and letting whatever contact came next blur out all of the crazy things happening.
I didn’t want to use her like that, though. Despite having only known her for a few weeks, I really liked Rebecca—more than I was even willing to admit. There was something about her that seemed like the missing puzzle piece in my life.
With everything else that had just occurred, I didn’t want to add my slobbering all over her to the list of things she wanted to move past.
Forcing myself to stand, I crossed the room, putting as much distance between us as I could.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Did I imagine the disappointment in her voice?
“Who did you call?” I asked over my shoulder, peeking out the curtain to the busy roadway outside.
She sighed, and the mattress squeaked as she flopped on the bed. “My father.”
The disgust in her voice surprised me. Turning, I watched as she chewed her lip, glaring at the ceiling. “Is that a bad thing?”
Peering at me, she shook her head. “No, just a hassle. He wasn’t very happy. Of course, The Order was just attacked, which would mean he was probably in the middle of locking down the center he controls. He was annoyed I interrupted him.”
“He wasn’t relieved to hear you’re alive?” Raising an eyebrow, I folded my arms.
She laughed. “He probably would’ve only been upset if I had died.” Sitting, she ran her fingers through her hair. “My father is a man devoted to his cause. Anything else—family included—comes second.”
Frowning, I felt the sadness she was so obviously trying to hide. “He can’t be that bad,” I offered quietly.
She pursed her lips. “He is.”
Standing, she moved toward the bathroom, examining her bandage in the mirror. “You don’t have to take my word for it. He’s sending a jet for us. It’ll be here in the morning. We’re to meet it at a private runway outside the city. How do you do on long flights?”
Caught off guard, I stared, still trying to sort out all the different things she had made me feel in a few moments time. “I don’t know,” I said again. “I’ve never been on a plane for more than three hours.”
“Well, you’re about to find out.” Grinning, she leaned against the counter. “We’re going to Rome.”
I had never even left America before. Sure, I had dreamed of touring the world and seeing all it had to offer, but I’d never been in a position where I could do such a thing. Now, within a couple weeks, I was suddenly jetting off to places I’d never been, led around in awe as I learned about things I’d never thought were possible or probable.
Rome was as I’d always imagined. The city was a bustling metropolis, scattered with historical points of interest and a story that reached near mythic proportions. Vatican City rested within these borders, gladiators had fought to the death here, and the building blocks of the world as I knew it had come into life in this place.
Still, all that somehow paled in comparison to The Order of The Knights Templar and their fortress in the city. It rested below the busy streets, nestled between the catacombs, hidden from prying eyes. Rebecca mentioned there were tunnels to the Vatican itself, a whole network of undercover ties and purposes buried beneath the city.
“How long has this been here?” I asked in awe, flabbergasted by the massive chamber we stood in. The ceilings vaulted high, decorated in gold, silver, and red flakes, crosses etched into the beams and arches so beautifully that I wondered what talented artist had rendered them.
“A couple hundred years,” Rebecca answered in an off-hand manner. “They used the crypts as the entrance for a while, before the other passageways were finished.” She shrugged. “They saw an opportunity and took it. What better place to hide than with the dead?”
“And the Catholic Church is in on it?” I didn’t know if I was surprised, impressed, or annoyed.
“The Templars began as a religious organization under the Pope.” She grinned. “So, yes. The Church is part of it. Though, much less than it has been in the past.”
“What do you mean?”
“We don’t take orders from the Pope any longer.” She grinned, seeming to enjoy sharing these revelations with me. “The fact that this building is connected to the Vatican is of little consequence in the grand scheme. We have members who serve within the church, just as we have members in various political positions around the world. I believe there is not an organization on this planet that we do not have at least one finger in.”
Before I could answer, or ask the million other questions I had, the double doors at the other end of the area opened, the sound of them breaking apart echoing through the room.
A tall, slender man emerged, wearing one of the finest business suits I’d ever seen. He reminded me of a Hollywood depiction of a government agent, styled and holding himself like any other actor playing a spy would have. His hair was perfectly swooped to the side, a few gray strands showing through the darkness of it, the only sign that he was any older than the two of us. The only thing missing from the
whole façade was a pair of sunglasses to mask his face, but I thought he was doing a good job of not showing emotion without them.
“Rebecca.” His voice was somewhat high and authoritative, disapproval in his stare.
“Father.” She inclined her head, lips pressed together, and clasped her hands behind her, standing before him like a soldier at inspection.
My eyebrows rose as I glanced between the two, having expected a friendlier welcome between family members.
“What in God’s name is going on at headquarters?” he demanded, frowning as he stopped a few feet in front of us. His glass-like face crumpled into anger, and, for the first time, I felt like I was watching a parent with their child.
A few more men emerged from the chamber behind him, standing around like bodyguards. Unexpectedly nervous, I felt very unwelcome, like I was a hostage that they didn’t want to trade for.
“There isn’t one anymore. The Black Knights have destroyed it.” She sounded annoyed and confrontational, shocking me even further.
“Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, young lady,” he snapped, shaking a finger at her. “Until we discover if Master Cavanaugh and her second have lived through the attack, I am the acting leader of The Order and you will treat me as such.”
She snapped her mouth shut, staring past him, her face hard.
“You mean Peter Smith?” I asked hesitantly, almost too intimidated to interrupt him.
It took everything in my power not to cower as Rebecca’s father turned his gaze toward me, his lips turning down even further, if that was possible. He glared, like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe. No, not gum—dog shit. He didn’t want me here and I knew it, just from that one look.
A stab of guilt pinched my gut. Rebecca was going to be in even more trouble because of me, I could already tell. I wasn’t a member of this Order. I shouldn’t have been privy to their hidden hideaways and business. I was a loose end, the person that always wound up dead for knowing too much.
However, glancing toward Rebecca and her unmoving, warrior-like state, I suddenly didn’t care if I lived or died, so long as she remained unharmed.
“I saw Mister Smith about ten minutes before the explosion,” I said, clearing my throat and forcing myself to stand tall as I addressed Mister O’Rourke. “He was leaving.”
“Leaving?” he asked sharply, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”
Swallowing hard, I glanced toward Rebecca, her face still turned away from me as she stood at attention.
Focusing on her father, I tried to match the intensity of his stare, failing miserably. “He said he had friends that were getting together for the weekend and he was going to go hang out with them.”
Mister O’Rourke motioned to the men behind him, barking orders. “We need to find him and get him to safety as soon as possible,” he said. “He hasn’t reached out to us yet, which may mean he’s been taken, or he’s in hiding already, waiting for us to send a team.”
The words passed me without much consideration, my mind focused on my last meeting with Peter Smith, trying to remember if he’d said where he was going or not. Then, with startling clarity, I did remember exactly what he’d said.
My stomach dropped, horror filling me.
“He knew,” I muttered softly, peering up from the floor and glancing around at the people beside me. “He knew about the bomb!”
Mister O’Rourke paused, surveying me distastefully. He regarded me for a moment and then waved, dismissing what I’d said without another word as he faced his men.
“He said he had to leave because there wasn’t much time left,” I asserted, stepping forward. “He was nervous, checking his watch, and interrupted our conversation to announce he was going. I’m telling you, he knew!”
Rebecca’s father rounded on me, fury in his stare. “Peter Smith is one of the most revered members of this Order and a fine leader. I will not have his name dragged through the mud by some—” He floundered, gesturing to me, his face reddening. “Nobody,” he finally spat out. “A boy who knows nothing of the world he lives in.”
He turned to Rebecca, positively vibrating with rage. “Take this boy away. Why you even brought him here, I’ll never understand. I ordered you specifically to leave him behind, yet here you are, defying orders once again.”
He shook his head, glaring, moving in front of her. She stared blankly past him, a statue.
“You are the greatest disappointment of my life and career,” he told her bitterly. His voice seemed to grow darker as he went on, the words hissing from him as he tore her to pieces in front of everyone. “Incapable of passing your exams with the same skill as your brother.” He ticked what he saw as her indiscretions off on his fingers as he listed them, the ire growing in him as he went on. “Impossibly managing to fail at securing a position that would be of some use to the cause. At fault for the loss of several irreplaceable and important documents. A coward who ran from the scene of a crime, instead of remaining with her colleagues. A little girl who can’t even follow the most basic of orders.”
I couldn’t have been more shocked and alarmed. She just stood there, taking his hateful expressions without so much as a blink, her face blank.
Not understanding how she could take his condemnation without even standing up for herself, I interrupted him angrily. “She could have been killed or taken by those Black Knights!”
“And it would have been an honorable demise,” he shot back, bearing down on her as his voice rose to a yell. “She would have gone down with her ship, so to say. And if she’d been taken, at least then we would have had some sort of agent on the inside. She could have been invaluable to the cause. But, no.” He chuckled, the sound cold and harsh, his voice suddenly going quiet. “She failed to meet the standards required of her once again.”
He straightened his jacket and smoothed his hair, stepping away. Eyeing her with distaste, he snorted.
“If only your brother had lived,” he said simply. “I could have done so much more with him.”
Turning away, he glared at me for a second and then returned through the archway he had entered from. They shut with a loud boom, Rebecca and I left alone.
I felt like I had been slapped in the face and he hadn’t even been addressing me. My mouth hung open, my mind unwilling to believe he had said such a thing to his own daughter.
Peeking at her, I felt as if my heart stopped beating. She stood at attention, her expression smooth and unrevealing. After a beat, she sucked in a breath and glanced at me.
“I have an apartment here,” she said simply. “You can stay in it, if you’d like. I doubt he arranged one for you.”
Floundering, I shrugged, unsure of what to say or do after she had been spoken to so cruelly. “I don’t want to take your room from you,” I replied weakly, feeling like I should have been doing something to comfort her.
She didn’t show any signs of being upset, though. If anything, she seemed to not care about what her father had just said. It was like we hadn’t seen him at all.
“I’ll arrange for you to have your own space. It may take a day or so.” She motioned for me to come with her, heading off in the direction of another door on the left side of the giant atrium.
“Where will you stay?” I hurried to follow, my anger and dismay at her treatment boiling inside me.
She chuckled, speaking over her shoulder. “I’ll be in my room, with you.”
The amusement on her face threw me for another loop. With a start, I realized she wasn’t completely distraught over her father’s words because he had spoken to her in that manner before.
Just the thought of it made me want to march after him and punch him right in the face.
“Rebecca,” I started, hesitating as I stared in the direction he’d gone.
She paused, looking the same way, and then frowned, the first signs of pain showing in her eyes. “Don’t, Eric,” she said quietly. “Please.”
My heart broke for her all o
ver again. Closing my mouth, I nodded, pressing my lips together tightly.
She took another breath, this one somewhat shakier, and then cleared her throat. “This way. It’ll take us a few minutes to get there. All of the Templar’s rooms are housed in our hotel.”
Rebecca’s apartment was like the executive suite of a top of the line hotel chain. The door opened to a marble entryway, the exquisite flooring flowing through the rest of the space. The walls were two toned, the top half painted a soft, off-white color, and the bottom sporting beautifully stained black wood planks. Artwork accented the area here and there, a mixture of paintings and photographs adding to the elegant feel. A large desk sat under a huge window, a closed laptop resting on the top, a black swivel chair pushed into the leg space. There was a sitting area off the entryway, a white couch and matching chairs arranged around a glass coffee table. In the center of the room, a king-sized bed drew my eye, the blood red comforter and checkered pillows sticking out against the light and dark tones of everything else. A giant television was mounted on the wall across from it, hanging over a long, black dresser that had been decorated with fresh flowers and a few, small figurines.
Moving into the spread, I took it all in, not used to luxury.
“The bathroom is in the hall,” Rebecca said, motioning to the double doors nestled into the wall of the entryway. “If there’s anything you need that isn’t here, I can have someone bring it.”
Two remotes sat on top of the dresser, one obviously matching the television. Curious, I picked up the other and clicked one of the buttons, delighted when the drapes opened, revealing a high-rise view of the city.
“This is incredible,” I breathed, trying the other switches and discovering they adjusted the lighting and turned on quiet music. “It’s like being on a fancy vacation.”
She laughed, drawing my attention back to her. She hadn’t left the sitting area, standing awkwardly beside one of the chairs, her hand resting on it. “I guess so. I haven’t ever thought of it like that. This place was always . . .” She paused, frowning. “Unwelcome, I suppose. I don’t come very often.”
Stolen Away : A Time Travel Romance (The Swept Away Saga Book 4) Page 6
