by Lowe, Anna
She pursed her lips, thinking it through. “So, if someone like Ercole wanted to consolidate power…”
Tony’s head jerked up, and they stared at each other.
Cara’s skin prickled, and she took a deep breath. Was she ready to go down that rabbit hole? Because…damn. The implications were huge.
One thing at a time, she told herself a long, chilling minute later. One thing at a time.
She forced herself to switch gears. “Why would Fidelio let Tiberio in so late? That had to have been suspicious.”
Tony’s brow furrowed. “Fidelio didn’t let us in. The housekeeper did. Not that she had much choice. Tiberio ordered her to let us in.”
“There weren’t any guards?”
“Now that you mention it, no. But there should have been.” Tony rubbed his beard, thinking. “Even when I ran back up to the study, there was no one. Not until a few minutes later, when the Guardians’ forces arrived.”
“What about the other guy — Caselli? Where did he go?”
Tony looked up, frowning in thought. “After we fought on the stairs, I was sure he was dead, so I ran down to help Amalia and the children.”
“And when you ran back up to help Fabricio?”
Tony stared into the distance, thinking, then whispered, “When I ran back up, he was gone.”
“Gone?” Cara’s voice shot up. “Where did he go?”
Tony frowned, looking darker and more dangerous than ever. “I don’t know. I didn’t have time to investigate.”
Cara studied the building. Not only was she now a bodyguard, she was doubling as a sleuth too. Two jobs she knew nothing about. Still, something didn’t add up.
“What kind of a man was Tiberio?” she asked.
Tony huffed. “Do you have to ask?”
“I mean, was he reckless, or would he have had every move planned?”
“Definitely a planner.”
“And yet he took on a fellow Guardian with only a few helpers. Why?”
Tony shrugged. “The fewer people involved, the better your chances of catching your target off guard.”
“But how could he be sure there would be no guards around? If it were me…” She backtracked and stuck up her hands. “I’m just trying to think this through. It was a pretty bold plan, wouldn’t you say? Which suggests Tiberio was confident of getting in and out without being noticed. Which brings us back to the missing guards… Somehow, Tiberio must have known about that — or arranged for them to be off that evening.”
Tony frowned. “How could he do that?”
Cara shrugged. “Maybe he had someone on the inside.”
The words just popped out of her mouth, but the moment they did, she froze. Tony did too, going stiff as stone.
She leaned closer, whispering, “Do you really think it could have been some kind of inside job?”
Tony stared at the abandoned building. “At the time, it didn’t cross my mind. But now that I think back…”
Cara let him sink into his thoughts for a while, then tapped his hand. “What about the housekeeper? Did she testify in your defense afterward?”
“There was no trial, no investigation. I was just convicted.”
A shadow flickered in the window of the building, making Cara flinch. Or was that just her imagination? Either way, she started paddling away.
“What happened to the housekeeper? And what about Caselli?” she whisper-hissed.
“Tiberio must have scared the housekeeper off for good, because she disappeared after that. And as for Caselli…” The lines on Tony’s brow grew deeper. “I was sure he was dead, but he must have escaped.” His eyes flashed with regret. “I don’t know if he ever resurfaced in Venice. I’ve been gone too long.”
She eyed every boarded-over window they glided past and only exhaled when they broke out into the sunlight at the intersection of the next canal. “It would make sense to find out, don’t you think? I could ask around…”
Tony worked his jaw from side to side. “No. I’ll have Theo do it. Just in case.”
Cara threw one last look back over her shoulder, then paddled onward. But halfway down the next section of canal, her steady oar strokes faltered, until she stilled, deep in thought.
Tony looked up. “What?”
By then, more pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place, and a chilling realization crept into Cara’s bones.
“An inside job…” she whispered.
She hurried down from the stern to huddle beside Tony in the middle of the gondola. “If it was an inside job then, what’s to say it’s not an inside job now? What if Tiberio had an accomplice — someone whose involvement never came to light?” She peered around, suddenly on edge. “Someone who’s still out there…”
For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Tony jumped to his feet, making the gondola lurch. Yanking his phone out of his pocket, he motioned for her to row.
“Fretta.” Fast.
Cara scrambled back to the oar and rowed as if a life depended on it. And, shit. Maybe one did.
In his haste, Tony misdialed, cursed, and started again. A moment later, he barked into the phone. “Theo? Any sign of trouble? Is she all right?”
Cara didn’t have to ask who she was. Fiorina. God, what if she was in danger at that very moment?
Tony waited, then gave her a thumbs-up. But even then, Cara didn’t relax. She continued paddling in the race of her life — one against an unseen opponent.
Years ago, Fiorina’s father had been murdered in cold blood. More recently, Fiorina had come out of hiding — and immediately been the target of a brazen attack. What if someone had taken up the unfinished business of that inside job?
Tony hissed into the phone, his tone all the encouragement Cara needed to power along.
“Get her out of there, Theo. Yes, I mean it. Get Fiorina out of there. Now.”
Chapter Twelve
Tony glanced back at Venice as the motorboat skimmed over the lagoon. The water was tinged pink by the last rays of sunset, and the first stars were starting to appear, but his soul was in turmoil.
“Relax, man. Everything is fine.” Theo’s voice was as smooth and relaxed as ever.
Tony clenched his jaw. No, it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
Not even now — hours into their hastily planned flight from Venice. He and Cara might have called it a rescue, but the Guardians would see it as kidnapping.
Kidnapping, less than a week after being absolved of murder. Madonna. The Guardians would never forgive him, no matter how good his intentions were or how readily Fiorina had agreed.
“Leave Venice?” Fiorina had turned white as a sheet when Cara explained their inside job theory. But then she’d pulled herself together and nodded. “All right. Where to?”
Tony peered into the darkness ahead. So far, they’d escaped detection. Could they keep it that way? He tapped his fingers on the boat’s safety rail, thinking over his actions of the past few hours. Hopefully, they hadn’t left much of a trail.
His first call from the gondola had been to Theo, who’d immediately escorted Fiorina out of the Guardians’ palace on the pretext of visiting an art gallery. There, they’d given the Guardians’ security men the slip and hurried across town to meet Cara and Tony in San Giorgio dei Greci — the historic Greek church in Venice’s Castello neighborhood. All four of them had hunkered down there until Rocco appeared.
Rocco had been the second person Tony had called with instructions to “borrow” a boat — the very vessel they were speeding across the lagoon in now that it was dark enough to avoid notice.
All in all, it was a rushed, stuck-together plan — the kind no commanding officer worth his salt would ever approve. But it was the best Tony had been able to come up with.
“Are you sure?” Theo had asked again back in the church. “I mean, it makes sense that someone who plotted against the Fellinis a decade ago could still be around to target Fiorina now. But where’s the proof?”
Tony glanced at Cara. They didn’t have proof. Just a hunch. Was that really enough to go on?
His lion side rumbled. We burned our bridges by “kidnapping” Fiorina. No choice but to see this through now.
Hanging on as the motorboat zoomed over the water, he couldn’t help but murmur to himself, “Qui comenza el mar scuro.”
Cara glanced over, nodding slowly. “Here begins the dark sea.”
So, she knew the old saying. Somehow, that didn’t surprise him.
He looked ahead pensively. Unlike ancient mariners, he wasn’t afraid of sailing off the edge of the earth, but what other dangers did fate have in store for them?
“Like I said, relax. Everything is going according to plan.” Theo leaned back casually, steering with one hand, looking every bit the millionaire playboy in one of his many playthings. Boats, cars, even planes — Theo had grown up with the lot.
“You said that about getting your inheritance too,” Tony grumbled.
Theo shot him a dark look. “It was going to plan. But my father keeps adding new conditions.”
“Ten years in the French Foreign Legion wasn’t enough to impress him?”
Theo snorted. “Nothing impresses him. But I’m not ready to give up yet.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “What’s the latest catch?”
“I have to find a mate.”
Rocco laughed. “That doesn’t sound like such a hardship.”
Cara and Fiorina exchanged looks that said, A man that rich and handsome can probably take his pick.
Theo shook his head. “A mate my father approves of. You should see the list of candidates.”
“Didn’t he narrow it down to a few nice girls for you to choose from?” Tony teased.
“That’s the problem.” Theo sighed. “They’re all nice girls. Not my type.”
Theo was playing up the bravado, but a little bit of longing crept into his voice. Tony studied his friend from the corner of his eye. Had the military helped the playboy permanently change his ways?
Back in the Foreign Legion, every man in their company had claimed not to care about matters of the heart. But now, one by one, they’d found their mates.
Tony glanced at Cara. Had he found his? Was Theo next?
Everyone lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts. A few minutes later, Fiorina pointed to the low cluster of lights in the distance.
“Is that the island?”
Tony shook his head, gesturing from right to left. “That’s Burano, with Mazzorbo on the left. We’re going to Mazzorbetto, the small island beside it.”
A lump formed in his throat. He’d left behind a hot mess of trouble. But his stomach churned just as much from what lay ahead.
Mazzorbetto. Even more than Venice, that little island was home. His mother’s side of the family had owned a tiny vineyard there for generations. As a child, he’d spent every weekend there with his grandparents. In his worst moments in the Foreign Legion, he had closed his eyes and transported himself back to that special place, reliving crisp winter days and peaceful summer evenings.
Venice and Mazzorbetto. Two of the most beautiful places on earth.
Home, his lion murmured.
He swallowed a sigh, looking north toward the faint outline of the Alps. Most of his family had gone into exile there after he’d been accused of murdering a Guardian. The mighty mountains of Alto Adige were beautiful, but they weren’t home.
Home was here, even if his closest relatives had left. But there was one stubborn holdout — his grandfather. Tony clutched the handrail of the motorboat. Once upon a time, they’d shared a close bond. But what kind of reception would he get now? Although he was innocent of any crime, it was his fault the family had suffered through so much.
“Only about ten minutes left,” Rocco told Fiorina.
Tony squared his jaw. Ten minutes to the island, then another few on foot. All too soon, he would find out if he would be accepted or brutally rejected.
Something warm registered on his arm, and he looked down. It was Cara, touching him. She flashed him a little smile that said, Everything will be all right.
She couldn’t know that, but somehow, he believed her. He turned his hand up to grip hers in the darkness, returning her smile.
Mate, his lion hummed, celebrating every light touch, every tiny gesture. Who knew that coming back to Venice would get him in so much trouble — and bring him so much luck?
Sadly, she yanked her hand away a moment later to motion to Theo. “Watch out. See the shallows?”
Theo swerved left, grumbling, “I can barely see anything.”
The sky was a deep indigo, and a universe of stars glittered overhead, but anything at water level was almost impossible to make out.
“There.” Cara pointed to a low marker — three thick poles, poking out of the water. “The bricole.”
“I see them now. But more lights would help.” Theo made a face.
Rocco snorted. “Would they?”
He waved, indicating the blinking lights that marked the maze of channels in the shallow lagoon. But it took an expert to tell one row of snaking lights from another.
An expert like Cara, who curved her hand, guiding Theo. “Now turn right.”
“How can you tell?”
“Work takes me all over the lagoon, and my crew works right up to sunset. We’re rarely back before dark.”
Right, her job. Tony had already formed a mental picture from the little bits she’d shared — Cara standing knee-deep in mud, wearing hip-high waders, as happy as could be. The same mud would cake her arms up to the elbows, and by the end of the day, her back would ache at bending over the beds of sea grass. But he would bet she started and ended each day satisfied.
No wonder her scent carries a hint of salt, his lion murmured fondly.
“I love working out here,” Cara murmured, more to herself than Theo. “Feeling the pulse of nature…”
“I love the lagoon too, but I think I’d rather paint it than stand in it,” Fiorina admitted.
Rocco laughed, and Tony exchanged wary glances with Cara. Rocco and Fiorina were definitely head over heels in puppy love. So much so, Tony had hesitated bringing his cousin along on this unplanned caper.
Ah, amore, his lion sighed as Fiorina blushed and Rocco stuck out his chest.
The question was how to tell the real thing from a passing infatuation.
He spent the next few minutes silently chewing that over. Then he made a patting motion in the air. “Slow down. We don’t want anyone to hear us approach.”
Theo did as he was told, lowering his voice as they glided closer. “There?”
Tony shook his head. “Too many houses.” For sleepy Mazzorbetto, that meant three, all clustered at one end of the island. Still, they couldn’t risk being spotted.
“Go a little farther.”
Everyone held their breath as they cruised quietly down the narrow channel between two islands. While the neighboring island had a paved promenade with streetlights, Mazzorbetto was more a tangle of undergrowth.
A short distance later, Tony pointed toward a dilapidated dock.
“There?” Theo whispered.
Tony’s heart pounded so hard, he was sure everyone could hear. “There,” he rumbled.
Cara clambered up first, expertly handling the boat’s line. Tony jumped out next, keeping a sharp lookout while Rocco helped Fiorina out. Theo stayed at the wheel as Tony pushed the boat away from the bank.
“You’ll find your way back?” Cara whispered.
The dragon shifter flashed a grin. “Let’s hope. See you later.”
Tony watched him go with that inner pang that always accompanied parting ways with a close comrade. Because who knew? Fate could bring either of them into an ambush, a battle, or simply divert their paths for good. As much as he’d learned to live with that as a soldier, the tinge of worry still registered every time. But Theo was one of the best, and while he carried out his part of the mission, Tony w
ould concentrate on his.
“You think he’ll make it back unnoticed?” Cara whispered.
Tony watched the boat disappear into the darkness. The plan was for Theo to return the “borrowed” boat, then fly to Mazzorbetto in dragon form. That way, they would have left Venice without a trace. Or so Tony hoped.
He forced a firm nod. “He’ll make it.” Then he motioned the others toward a narrow path. “Let’s go.”
Everyone followed, moving as quietly as possible. Other than the occasional bird or bat fluttering out of the trees, no one took notice of their arrival. Soon, they turned onto an even narrower, winding trail. Tony’s heart hammered harder with every step.
It felt as if he were walking back through time. Or maybe like one of those alternate reality movies where a character time-traveled into the past, unwittingly interfered with the course of history, then returned to the future, wondering how different things would be.
At first glance, things hadn’t changed at all. The inland trails were just as overgrown, the island just as quiet. Still, his gut roiled. Would his grandfather forgive him all the pain he’d inflicted on the family, or would the door be slammed in his face?
A few steps later, they reached a rusty gate. Tony hesitated, thinking of all the carefree occasions he’d skipped down that very path. The last time he’d done so was over a decade ago, when he’d waved a casual goodbye and departed without knowing that life as he knew it was about to implode.
Everyone clustered behind him, and dammit, sweat broke out on his brow. Maybe this was a bad idea. What if they unwittingly brought more trouble to his grandfather, who’d already endured so much?
Then Cara touched his arm, and his racing heart settled a little.
He pushed the gate open with a whispered, “Aspettate.” Wait here.
With resolute steps, he strode up to the old farmhouse and knocked quietly on the door. Too quietly? He stepped back and studied the house. The paint was peeling and one of the eaves sagging, but the hedge was perfectly trimmed.
He knocked again. It was dark by then, but not too late. Surely his grandfather wasn’t in bed already?
He was about to slip around the back for a look when floorboards creaked, and someone grumbled, “Coming, coming.”
