by Lowe, Anna
Tony balled his hands into fists, waiting.
“Who in God’s name visits at a time like this?” a familiar voice muttered.
That was his grandfather, all right. Cranky as ever on the surface. Was he still a softy inside?
When the door swung open, Tony blinked, not spotting anyone in the dark hallway. Then he lowered his gaze and found his grandfather standing three inches lower down.
Tony bit his lip. He’d been away for so long — too long — and lost so much time with those he loved.
His grandfather’s body might have shown the march of time, but his eyes were as sharp as ever. For a moment, he stared, and they both stood frozen in place.
Then his grandfather opened his arms, and Tony fell into them like the child he’d once been.
“Nino,” his grandfather murmured.
The nickname used to drive Tony crazy, but not today.
“My dear boy,” his grandfather murmured again and again. “My dear boy…”
Tony hunkered over his grandfather’s slight frame, fighting the sting in his eyes. He barely remembered his father, but his grandfather had filled that void. That made him a giant in Tony’s mind. But now, instead of having to stretch up onto his toes to meet his grandfather’s hug, Tony was the one bending his knees and taking care not to squeeze too hard.
“Is it really you?” his grandfather asked, holding him tightly.
“I’m sorry,” Tony mumbled over and over. Sorry for everything he’d done… Sorry for things he hadn’t done, too, even if so much had been outside his control. Most of all, he was sorry for the dramatic turn of fortunes that had derailed his loved ones’ lives. “So sorry.”
They hugged for a long time, trying to find words for emotions neither could name. Crickets chirped in the background, and a cat wound between their legs. Finally, Tony’s grandfather pulled away, cleared his throat, and scolded the cat. Buying time to collect himself, Tony figured.
A damn good thing, since he needed to do the same.
“Come now, Alba. Give us some space.” His grandfather’s voice cracked as he shooed the striped cat aside. Then he straightened and shook Tony’s hand solemnly. “Good to see you, my boy.”
The very words he’d greeted Tony with for a long as he could remember.
Tony gulped and nodded dumbly. Dammit, why did he, a seasoned soldier, need more time to pull himself together than his grizzled old grandfather?
“Good to see you, Nonno.”
Behind him, Rocco scuffed the ground, reminding Tony he wasn’t alone.
His grandfather raised his bushy eyebrows. “You’ve brought company.”
Tony’s gut churned. If only he had time to explain.
He introduced the others quickly. “You know Rocco…”
His grandfather did a double take. “Luisa’s little boy?”
Rocco rolled his eyes, and Fiorina giggled.
Tony waved again. “Allow me to introduce Cara and Fiorina.”
Fiorina gave a little curtsy, and Cara dipped her chin. “Signore.”
His grandfather nodded as if four young people barged in on him every evening. “Call me Arturo. Come in, come in.”
Rocco stepped forward, but Tony hesitated. “I should mention…” He fished for words.
His grandfather flashed a wry smile. “That you and your friends might have trouble on your heels?”
Tony’s throat was so dry, he could only nod in reply. Maybe he should have thought this through. The risk to his grandfather was too great.
But his grandfather just cackled. “When you get to my age, trouble is just another form of entertainment. Avanti, avanti.” Come in.
His grandfather was being cavalier, and they both knew it. Still, everyone filed in. In no time, his grandfather had brewed a pot of coffee so strong and bitter, even Tony choked.
“Now, then.” The moment his grandfather creaked into his favorite chair, a cat jumped into his lap — a white one, this time — and he stroked it absently. “Tell me what this is all about.”
Tony took a deep breath, wondering where the hell to start.
Chapter Thirteen
Cara stirred her coffee slowly, looking around in the morning sunlight. Golden rays filtered through the trees, along with snatches of birdsong. A calico cat wound gently between her legs, demanding to be petted. Tony’s grandfather, Arturo, was a sweet old man, and his property was a garden of Eden. No hustle and bustle, no city sounds, no crowds on this island off an island in the outer reaches of the lagoon. Just peace — real peace. No wonder Tony loved it here.
He hadn’t said as much, but she could see it in the shine of his eyes. He’d woken early, stepped into the leafy courtyard behind the main house, and stretched his arms high. Then he’d shifted into lion form, given his mane a hard shake, and settled down in the sun.
He was the darkest, most magnificent lion she’d ever seen. Proud. Powerful. Much like the one on the monument she loved — minus the wings, of course.
At the same time, weariness showed through. And no wonder. Again and again, Tony had risked his life and reputation to protect the vulnerable, even when he had nothing to gain and everything to lose. Most folks steered clear of other people’s problems, but Tony couldn’t resist doing the right thing. Was it even a conscious choice for him, or were duty and honor coded into his DNA?
On top of all that was the reunion with his grandfather. Both men had hidden their emotions after the first few moments. But their eyes still shone with joy and unspoken words, and when they had raised wineglasses in a toast the previous evening, their hands had shaken slightly.
Old age, Arturo had grumbled by way of excuse.
A long day, Tony had tried.
Cara hid a smile. She doubted it.
She tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. She’d slept like a log, and she’d bet Tony had too. Like everyone else, it seemed, because they were the first two awake.
Fiorina had been given the spare bedroom in Arturo’s small farmhouse, while Rocco was assigned the couch. Cara had spent the night in a tiny structure across the courtyard in the back.
“It used to be a smokehouse,” Tony had explained. “I was fixing it up into a little guesthouse before…”
He’d trailed off there, but a decade’s worth of cobwebs told her what had cut off his project and how few guests his grandfather had entertained since.
Tony had set her up in the cozy loft while he’d taken the couch in the tiny living area below.
“Buona notte,” he’d whispered up into the darkness.
“Buona notte,” she’d whispered back.
And it had been, because halfway through the night, she’d padded down the stairs, touched his shoulder, and…
She blushed, replaying it all in her mind. Tony had lifted his blanket, inviting her in as if he’d been expecting her. She’d slid right into his arms and curled up like they’d already done so dozens of times and not only in her dreams.
Unlike her dreams, however, they hadn’t spent a wildly passionate night getting it on. They’d just spooned up and held each other tightly, and that was enough.
Enough for now, her lioness decided, giving its tail a lusty flick.
Still, she sighed. What a beautiful night. Peaceful. Satisfying. Her heart rate had settled down, and the muddle of thoughts that had been bouncing around her mind had slowly faded away, letting her sleep longer and better than she had in ages.
They’d only stirred once in the middle of the night, when Theo had arrived. He’d had a long night, returning the boat to Venice then flying back to Mazzorbetto in dragon form. He’d bunked out on Arturo’s enclosed porch, where he was still fast asleep.
So, their little group was reunited on Mazzorbetto. The question was, what next?
Cara put off thinking about it for a while. Instead, she looked over at Tony, still snoozing in the morning sun. He’d slid out of bed first, planting a soft kiss on her cheek before heading outside. She’d fol
lowed a half hour later, and there they were — a woman and a huge lion, both basking in the morning sun.
She grinned. What a picture that would make if a human happened to come along.
Sometime later, shuffling footsteps sounded inside the main house, followed by a curse.
“Sciò,” Arturo grumbled, shooing away yet another cat. Then he blinked as if he’d forgotten about his guests. But when he spotted Tony, his whole face lit up. A moment later, he saw Cara and quickly schooled his features back into a scowl.
“Buongiorno,” he grumbled, then pointed at Tony. “Hmpf. I thought the military might work the laziness out of that lion.”
Cara laughed. There wasn’t a lazy bone in Tony’s body, and Arturo knew it. It was just that Tony had mastered the feline art of changing gears, going from ferocious warrior to gentle giant at will.
Tony’s only reply was to twitch one ear.
Cara smiled at Arturo. “Buongiorno. Thank you so much for letting us stay.”
“Good company is never an imposition,” Arturo replied, then hollered over toward Tony. “Good company. You get my message?”
Tony flicked the tuft of his tail.
Cara laughed, then caught herself. “Oh — I hope you don’t mind. I made myself a coffee. May I get you one too?”
Arturo gave her the blank look of a man who’d lived alone for a long, long time. Then he nodded. “I suppose you could.”
“One for you too?” she called to Tony.
He lifted his head and opened his jaws in a mighty yawn, showing huge teeth. Then he heaved his hindquarters up, stuck out his front paws, and stretched.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Cara smiled at Arturo on her way to the kitchen. “Your garden is so beautiful. So peaceful. So…”
His eyes twinkled, and he nodded. “Magical?”
She chuckled and went inside. Then she stopped in her tracks and peeked back. Wait. Had he meant that literally?
* * *
By early afternoon, Cara was sure there was some magic in that garden, though all Arturo admitted to was love.
“My mate and I worked this garden for fifty years.” He looked around wistfully. “She’s still here with me. So, yes. Magic.” When his voice cracked a little, he cleared his throat. “Except for these infernal cats.” He made a show of glowering, though the calico in his lap continued to purr under his touch.
Theo shot Tony a look. “Yes. Far too many cats.”
“Watch it, dragon,” Tony rumbled back, all human again.
By then, everyone had gathered together for lunch, and Fiorina giggled. When her gaze crossed with Rocco’s, she broke into a blush.
Cara glanced over, then pursed her lips. Those two were definitely in love.
Then she glanced at Tony, and dammit, her cheeks heated the same way.
If it’s love, it’s love. Her own words. Who are we to mess with that?
She gulped. Who, indeed?
Arturo clapped Tony on the shoulder. “Little Nino has been coming here since he was a baby.”
Theo grinned and murmured, “Little Nino? Wait till I tell the guys…”
The fact that Tony didn’t shoot his friend a murderous look spoke volumes about how happy he was to be back.
Cara looked around, then sighed. “It’s so beautiful here. My great-grandmother didn’t share a lot about her past, but I know she loved the islands in the lagoon. I wish she were still alive so I could ask her more.”
“I remember you telling me about her,” Fiorina said. “Violeta, right?”
“Violeta?” Arturo stopped in the middle of pouring a steaming cup.
Cara nodded. “Yes. She and my great-grandfather Jack — Giacomo — were from Venice, but they left right before World War II.”
China clattered as Arturo set the cup down with a jolt. Then he muttered under his breath. “Old age. I tell you…”
Once he and Cara had wiped up the spill, he went on.
“Dark days, those were. Not just for Venice, but for the world. No amount of shifter magic could stop what was coming. And these days, there are only a few little pockets of magic left, like here.”
“Magic is all well and good,” Theo mused. “But we can’t hide here forever. What next?”
Exactly what Cara had been wondering. “We have to find out who the inside man was all those years ago.”
Tony frowned pensively. “Or inside woman.”
Cara studied him. Did Tony mean the suspicious woman he’d noticed at the party, or the housekeeper who’d admitted Tiberio to the Fellini villa that fateful night?
“Do you really think they’re still around?” Fiorina glanced over her shoulder as if her attacker might be lurking nearby. “There hasn’t been any trouble since the night of the party.”
Tony kept his lips sealed, but his eyes sparkled at Cara as if to say, That’s because we’ve been keeping guard.
She grinned back. We make a good team.
They did. So much so that she was starting to hear his voice in her head.
Of course you do. He’s our mate, her lioness growled.
She gulped. Was he? And if so, was she really ready to settle down?
“The attempt at the party didn’t look like an inside job,” Rocco said.
Tony shook his head. “I agree, but that could have been by design.”
Cara looked into her coffee cup. Rocco was right — there was no evidence of a traitor amidst the Guardians of Venice. But there had been a dark vibe in the Guardians’ palace that had kept her on edge. Ercole clearly ruled the roost, but there were dozens of courtiers who stuck to the curtained shadows of the palace. Any of them could have been plotting a coup. But who?
“We won’t find out from here,” Theo pointed out.
Tony moved his jaw from side to side. “True. We must investigate. But now that we’ve ‘kidnapped’ Fiorina…”
Cara sighed. “We need our own insider.”
Tony laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. “That would be nice. But is there anyone there you trust?”
She grimaced. “No.”
“I trust my aunt,” Fiorina offered. “And Fidelio.”
“Fidelio is a good man,” Tony agreed. “But he’s old and half deaf.”
“Old, you say?” Arturo grumbled.
“Er, experienced. But not as sprightly as he used to be. And his hearing really is poor.”
Arturo snorted. “Maybe he’s simply not interested in these newfangled things you young people talk about. It’s called selective attention.”
“If that’s the case, Fidelio hasn’t selected a single option,” Rocco muttered.
Ever the diplomat, Fiorina changed the subject. “What about my aunt?”
Tony shook his head. “She may mean well, but she’s no spy.”
“What about Grazia?” Rocco tried.
Arturo cracked up. “Grazia Pittoni? The Grazia?”
Cara cocked her head. “You know her?”
The old man cackled in glee. “Everyone knows Grazia. But she’s not one for subtlety.”
Cara pictured Grazia sweeping into a room, flanked by yapping dogs and squabbling parakeets. Okay, maybe Arturo had a point.
Tony scratched his beard. “No need to rush into this. But we have to develop a clearer plan.”
For the next twenty minutes, Cara did her best, along with the others. But when Theo and Tony switched to military talk, all she caught were snippets in the strange mix of Italian, English, and French they used.
Fiorina grew paler by the minute, and Cara’s nerves stood on edge too. What was the difference between extraction and exfiltration? And why did the men shake their heads when bemoaning a lack of biomes and paquetage — whatever those were?
Finally, Cara stood and tapped Fiorina on the shoulder. She might not be a military mastermind, but she could take her friend’s mind off the worst.
“Come on. Let’s practice.”
Fiorina blinked. “Practice what?”
&nbs
p; “The self-defense moves I taught you.”
Fiorina stuck up her hands. “That was a long time ago.”
Cara tugged her along. “You’ll remember with a little practice.”
“But…but…”
Cara pulled her firmly into the middle of the courtyard. “I know you want to do your best as a Fire Maiden.”
Fiorina gave a choppy nod. “I do, but…”
The poor girl was so earnest, so committed… and so utterly unsuited for the job. Still, if Fiorina wasn’t about to give up, neither would Cara.
She squeezed her friend’s hands. “To do that, you have to be able to take care of yourself.”
“But I have guards.” Fiorina shot Rocco a warm look.
Cara bit her tongue. Rocco was a good start, but he was young and cocky. And even seasoned soldiers like Tony or Theo could be tricked, detained, or overpowered.
“Guards are only your first line of defense. You need to do your part, too.” Cara rolled up her sleeves. “So, imagine a kidnapper comes along and grabs you like this.” She clamped her hand over Fiorina’s wrist and tugged. “Do you remember step one?”
Fiorina bit her lip, thinking. “I shouldn’t pull back.”
So, she did remember something. That was a start.
“Exactly. That’s what they would expect. Instead, you push then twist away. Ready? Go.”
Fiorina tried, but Cara still shook her head.
“Come on. Do it like you mean it.”
Fiorina looked glum. “How can I possibly get away from a man twice my size?”
Cara called Rocco over and stuck out her own arm. “Here. Grab me. As hard as you can. Don’t let go.”
Rocco’s grip was exactly what she expected — a halfhearted, gentle hold. She shook her head.
“Grab me the way a kidnapper might grab Fiorina.”
Rocco tightened his grip, growing more serious.
“Good. Now, pull,” Cara ordered.
As soon as Rocco did, she thrust her hand forward and twisted free. “See?”
Rocco frowned. “Wait. Do it again.”
Cara rolled her eyes. Typical invincible young male. Fine. She stuck out her arm. Let Fiorina and Rocco learn.
That time, Rocco’s grip was even tighter, but she still broke free, leaving him gaping.
