by Terri Reed
Alessandro propelled her forward. She clenched her jaw as he practically dragged her away. When they were once again in the basement, he carefully shut the door.
She glared at him. “I wanted to see who was coming.”
“Too dangerous. How did you get in?” he asked in a whisper.
He’d never fit through that window, so she shook her head. “We can’t go out that way.”
He said a harsh word in Italian and then took her hand again. He led her up the stairs. Colleen was surprised to find herself in the curator’s office. Alessandro slid a panel shut. Colleen blinked. The wall looked solid. “How did you…?”
“I found the panel when I searched her office,” he replied as he picked up his briefcase. He turned to look at Colleen, and then, as if making up his mind, opened his briefcase and pulled out the black wig. “Come here, bella. You must wear this.”
“Why?”
“Because your blond hair will stand out.”
“First, tell me why. I can’t just ignore that I found you here, stealing from the museum.”
“I promise I will explain, but we must leave now, before those in the tunnels realize that we’ve been in there and they come looking for us. Trust me when I tell you they’d kill us without any questions.”
His tense jaw and sober gaze made her believe him. “But the guard?”
He put the wig on her head. “Saw Dahlia come in and out with me and then enter without me. When he sees us both, I hope he’ll think he just wasn’t paying enough attention.”
“Let’s hope,” Colleen muttered in agreement, itching at the heavy wig.
“Sì, let’s.” Alessandro grinned. “Come. Walk briskly, but not too fast. We don’t want him to get suspicious.”
Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the office. With Alessandro at her elbow, they walked to the service door. From somewhere behind them a door opened, then the fall of footsteps on the hardwood floor brought fresh panic, speeding up Colleen’s already pounding heart rate.
“Steady now,” Alessandro said into her ear, his voice reassuring and thrilling.
“Miss Sainsbury? Miss Sainsbury!” the guard called.
“Keep going,” Alessandro urged, as he thrust her through the service door. The wig caught on the latch and flew off her head.
“Hey!” shouted the guard.
A second passed before the museum alarm echoed off the walls. Metal gates descended from the ceiling to click into place in front of the paintings.
Alessandro kept his momentum moving forward. Colleen skidded on the pavement as she tried to stop him from dragging her along. “No. We have to wait for the police. I won’t tell them about you, only about the tunnels.”
His dark gaze bored into her. He pulled out a gun. “I’m sorry, bella.”
Colleen gasped. Disbelief surged through her veins. “Is that standard issue for accountants?”
“Move.”
She stood her ground. “No. I promise, I won’t say anything about you.”
Somewhere in the distance the sound of sirens filled the air.
His shackle-like grip tight, he hauled her toward the corner. “Where’s your car?”
“I’m not telling you,” she snapped while struggling to break free. “You can’t do this!” Outrage throbbed at her temples. How stupid of her to trust her instincts about him.
“Then I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you,” he said roughly.
“You wouldn’t dare. Somebody would stop to help me,” she declared. She lashed out with her foot and caught him on the shin.
Through gritted teeth, he said, “Not if you’re unconscious. I’d just tell anyone who asked that you’ve had too much to drink.”
Not wanting to know how he’d render her unconscious, she decided she had a better chance of escaping his clutches if she stayed conscious. She pointed across the street to the alley. He pulled her along the street toward her car.
“Keys?”
Grudgingly, she withdrew them from her pants pocket. He pushed her in and forced her to scoot over into the passenger seat. He fired up the engine and pulled out of the parking place and jerked to a stop just as a police car screeched to a halt in front of the museum.
“Hang on,” he said. Throwing the car into Reverse, he backed down the alley to the next corner, and then the little car shot forward.
Colleen waved her arms in an effort to attract the patrolman’s attention, but with the waning light of evening she doubted he could have seen her, even if he’d been looking in her direction.
A horrible sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as the car hurtled out of sight of the authorities.
“I can’t believe you just kidnapped me. You just keep getting lower and lower,” she huffed.
When he remained silent, she decided to try to reason with him. Appeal to his sense of family, honor, things she could have sworn he had. Had she truly been wrong about that?
“What about your little girl? Don’t you think it will be hard on her to have a daddy in prison?”
He slanted her a sharp glare.
“Wouldn’t it be better for her if you did the right thing and turned yourself in? I’m sure your aunt and uncle could get you some help. If you’re in trouble with gambling, there are organizations that can help. What about your job with the European Union? You can’t want to risk losing everything just to keep me quiet. I’ve already promised I’ll not say anything.”
“How about you start keeping that promise to be quiet right now?”
Pressing her lips into a tight line, she glared at him. Alessandro Donato had shown his true colors. Dirty. Rotten. Scoundrel. So much for the superhero image she’d built up in her mind.
Crossing her arms on her chest, she heaved an angry sigh. “You are in such hot water.”
Dahlia Sainsbury pulled up to the rustic cabin tucked away in the middle of the woods. Checking her watch, she noted with a grimace she was ten minutes late. Thanks to Alessandro.
Picking her way carefully over the unpaved, potholed walkway to the front door, she rapped on the dark wood with her knuckle.
The door swung open and the scents of spicy cumin and fresh cilantro enveloped her. Her mouth watered.
“You’re late,” snapped the dark-haired man known by those who feared him as El Jefe.
To her, he would always be Baltasar Escalante. The man responsible for the death of her beloved half brother, Alistair Barclay. She stepped past Baltasar, dropping her gaze so he wouldn’t see the hatred in her eyes. “It couldn’t be helped. Too many people have been asking questions. First that annoying Colleen Montgomery came to see me.”
The door shut with a loud bang. “Well, if you’d done your job in the first place, you wouldn’t have to deal with her.”
Dahlia’s lips tightened. It wasn’t her fault Donato was a clumsy oaf, albeit a handsome one, and had spilled the poison meant for Colleen. “But I did learn something of interest when she came to see me today.”
Waving her into the kitchen, he said, “Tell me.”
On the counter next to the cooking food lay a small square flat mirror with four lines of white powder. Obviously Baltasar had been sampling their product again.
A heightened sense of anxiety plucked at her nerves.
She watched him pick up a knife and begin chopping vegetables. Him and a knife. Not a comfortable feeling.
“She’s got a thing for Donato.”
He grunted. “How does that help my plans?”
“It could prove useful,” she said with a shrug.
He didn’t respond. Instead he seemed fixated on the task of cooking. Chopping, scooping, frying. But that was how he was. Especially when high. Obsessive, compulsive, evil.
He laid the knife down and moved to the sink. She stared at the gleaming blade, dripping with tomato juice. She could imagine herself grasping the black handle and driving the metal tip into his wiry back. She could picture deep-red blood oozing from the wound as he lay
withering in agony, feel the promise of joy that would flood through her.
Her breathing turned shallow, her hand flexed. No. It wasn’t time yet. She had to wait. She wanted him to suffer, but she wanted it to be a long and drawn-out affair. She wanted to see his face when he realized she had the power to destroy him.
Soon. Very soon.
She looked up and met his dark, intense gaze. Repressing a shudder of distaste for him, she smiled. A coy, inviting smile that never failed to draw him in.
He stalked forward, like the predator he was, and took her into his arms. He buried his face against her neck, nipping at the tender flesh there. She closed her eyes, glad he couldn’t see the revulsion that his touch brought.
“I fear Alessandro Donato knows something, but what, I’m not sure. He’s been sniffing around,” she murmured.
“So, let him sniff. He’ll find nothing,” came Baltasar’s muffled reply. He slipped her jacket from her shoulders, his fingertips lingering on her shoulders.
“Your dinner will burn,” she said, hoping for a reprieve.
He leaned back, his hand reaching up to release her hair from its bonds. “It needs to simmer. Just as I’ve been simmering while we’ve been apart.”
“He has a child.”
Baltasar abruptly pulled away. His black eyes narrowed in interest. “A child?”
The reprieve she wanted. Her lips curved. “Yes.”
“A child.” He began to pace. “What about my child?” His gravelly voice rose, the rage making each syllable vibrate like a rattler about to strike. “Those Vances have my child and I will not rest until I have him back.”
“It’s best if you lay low for a while longer,” she stated quietly, cautiously.
His expression twisted. The lover replaced with the maniacal madman, who arranged for bombings and killings without any remorse. A man both feared and hated.
“Lay low? Like some scoundrel dog? Never! The Vances and Montgomerys will pay for their deeds.” His rage escalated, his voice rising a painful octave. “Oh, yes. They’ll pay.”
He pounded his fist into his hand, punctuating each phrase. “The drugs are on the street, weakening society. After we move this next shipment, I’ll find a way to get my son back.”
In a swift movement, he picked up the knife and slammed the sharp tip into the cutting board. “Soon, those who have tried to destroy me will see the full extent of my power.”
She waited a beat for a diabolical laugh that chilled her bones. She wasn’t ready for him to do something that would get him caught. She had plans of her own that needed to be seen to fruition. That the Vance and Montgomery families suffered in the process of her own agenda was an added benefit, for they also held some of the blame for Alistair’s death. If the two meddling families hadn’t interfered, Alistair wouldn’t have gone to prison.
But it was on Escalante’s order that Alistair be killed. He would be made to suffer.
“Maybe you should accompany me to London. I have a dealer there who has found a Degas. You love Degas,” she said, her voice now soft and cajoling.
He stilled. “Degas?”
The distraction worked.
“Hmm. Yes, I love Degas.” He snorted a line of cocaine and then walked to the stove. “No more talk of this tonight. We eat. Tomorrow the wheels of revenge will turn again.”
“Indeed, they will.”
NINE
You are in such hot water.
Colleen’s parting words reverberated in Alessandro’s head.
Like a lobster in a pot, he silently retorted.
Bringing Colleen into the mix was a breach of security. Kidnapping her would likely send him to jail. But what choice had he?
If he let her go to the authorities, he’d lose his chance to capture and take down the man ultimately responsible for his wife’s death. He’d spent too many years and too much time tracking the evil drug lord to be this close and miss the opportunity to finally stop Escalante.
Leading Colleen by the hand through the kitchen of the Broadmoor Hotel and into the service elevator, Alessandro acknowledged the only course of action now was to tell Colleen everything. He could only hope she’d realize the importance of his mission and not splash the story across the front page of the newspaper.
Not that he could expect her to keep quiet forever, but at least until Escalante was captured. Then she could tell whatever tales she chose.
“How did that just happen?” Colleen groused as the elevator ascended toward the penthouse floor.
“Scusi?”
“Not one person even batted an eye as we came in. You’d think someone would have stopped us to ask what we were doing in the staff-only section of the hotel. Who are you?”
“I’ll explain in a moment.”
Colleen planted her hands on her hips. “I want an explanation now.”
She was a beauty when fired up. “Patience, bella. The walls have ears.”
She frowned pointedly as her gaze took in the seemingly bare, empty elevator. But she didn’t say another word until they were in his suite.
The main room boasted elegance with plush beige carpet and rich mahogany furniture tastefully accented in warm blues and greens. A full wall of windows overlooking the city gave the living room an expansive feel. Two sets of French doors opened to large bedrooms, each with a luxuriant king-size bed.
She whistled. “Nice. Apparently international accountants do better than the local variety.”
The web of secrets between them would soon be dismantled, he thought thankfully. He didn’t like the flush of guilt washing over him. He shrugged off his jacket and laid it on the back of a wing-back chair. “Cara mia, take a seat.”
Her blue eyes regarded him with distrust. “I don’t think I will. You’d better tell me what’s going on.”
“Sì, brother. Do tell us what’s going on,” Tomas said from the archway leading into the dining room where he leaned against the doorjamb.
He had on the khaki pants and dress shirt he’d left the suite in earlier. His relaxed stance was nothing more than an illusion. Alessandro saw the tightness of his brother’s jaw and the hard glint in his brown eyes.
Alessandro’s stomach plummeted as Colleen’s eyes rounded in shock. Her gaze jumped from his brother to him and back again. She looked as though she might faint, and somewhere in the back of Alessandro’s mind lurked the thought that her passing out could work to his advantage. If she did, he could deny the existence of his brother in order to keep Tomas’s cover from being blown.
But Alessandro had a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to be able to keep her in the dark any longer. She’d dig up the truth on her own and get hurt. His heart twisted at the thought.
“Cara mia, my brother, Tomas. Tomas, Colleen.”
Tomas glided forward, his loafers making no noise on the lush carpet. He took Colleen’s hand and kissed her knuckles. Alessandro’s stomach muscles clenched and he resisted the urge to place a possessive arm around Colleen.
“My pleasure, signorina,” Tomas purred, his accent heavier than normal, an affectation Alessandro and Tomas both used when wanting to keep a woman off balance. For some odd reason women found their native tongue appealing. Alessandro wanted to box his brother’s ears for laying on the charm. They didn’t normally compete for the attention of a woman. He didn’t want to start now.
Colleen shook her head and disengaged her hand. “Brothers. This makes so much sense.”
She turned her sharp, intelligent gaze on Alessandro. “No wonder it seemed that you were in two places at once.”
She studied him for a moment then stared at Tomas. “Up close and together, I can see the subtle differences. Fraternal twins?”
Tomas grinned. “No. Alessandro’s my big brother.”
“Couldn’t be by much,” Colleen said.
“Sometimes I wonder,” Alessandro replied, sending Tomas a disapproving glare for revealing himself.
“Interesting.” She crossed her arms over
her chest. “I’m waiting for that explanation.”
Tomas sat on the couch and stretched out his legs. “This should be good.”
Alessandro shot him a glare. “I had no choice but to bring her here. We found Escalante’s drug warehouse.”
“That’s great!” Tomas exclaimed.
“Escalante?” Colleen frowned, clearly puzzled. “But he’s dead.”
Alessandro shook his head. “They never recovered his body from the plane crash. We’ve tracked him through Europe and back to here. We believe he had plastic surgery, and that is why he can move about without anyone knowing who he is.”
Colleen’s eyes widened. “So he’s El Jefe?”
“Sì.”
“Where is the warehouse?” asked Tomas.
“Who’s we?” Colleen asked and gestured with her finger at the two brothers.
“Under the museum and we being Interpol,” Alessandro said, answering them both.
“Ah, so your hunch about Dahlia Sainsbury was correct,” Tomas said, admiration lacing his words.
“Sì.” Having his instincts about Dahlia validated felt good.
“I knew it,” Colleen muttered.
Alessandro ignored her comment and tried to focus once again on the problem at hand. “I swiped her security card to get into the museum. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes it’s gone and alerts Escalante. I need to get back to that warehouse and capture him.”
“We’ll need backup. I’ll call Falcon.” Tomas rose and strode into the bedroom.
Reeling from this conversation, Colleen sat down on the vacated couch. “Let me get this straight. You and your brother work for Interpol and are tracking down Escalante, who you believe is still at large and operating in Colorado Springs.”
“Sì, bella.”
Her mind went back to the night Holly had confided in her about Alessandro’s heroics. He’d saved Colleen’s brother and sister-in-law from certain death. He was one of the good guys. A superhero.
Now he was after Escalante. A madman, a murderer. Her heart pounded at the implications. The possibilities. The risks. “This is even more huge than I thought.”
