Lost in Italy

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  Where were the faucet handles? She waved her hands, looking for the motion activated sensor. Nothing. A quick search located two pedals on the floor, one black, one red. Desperate, she stepped on the red. Water spit out of the faucet, only it was hot. She quickly scrubbed her hands, then pressed on the black pedal, hoping for cold. One chilled handful rinsed her mouth, and two more she splashed on her face.

  Groping for a dry towel, she stared at her pale reflection with disbelief. How had her carefully planned life spun so out of control in just a few hours? Not to mention, away from Trent, the whole nightmare was supposed to go away. Instead, it’d gotten worse.

  Her mind raced. Working in television, living vicariously through movies, her mind immediately went to the worst case scenario. But maybe they weren’t all in on whatever was going on. Surely Officer Greco wouldn’t have left her alone if she knew what Halli had filmed? She waivered in indecision. Could she risk trusting her? Would the woman help? Would she believe the real story after Halli’s initial lie?

  The day fast-forwarded in Halli’s mind and her shoulders slumped. Who was she kidding? No one would believe what had all happened to her today. Heck, there wasn’t even a single incidence by itself that stood a ghost of a chance of being plausible, let alone the whole of it together.

  What she needed right now was a new plan. What did she need to focus on after she got out of here? One step beyond escape was crucial to give her a goal to work toward.

  The embassy. No, the consulate. Or the hotel? Ben and Rachel might assume she’d go there, but she quickly decided the consulate was closer and probably safer than finding her way along the lakeshore by herself. Plus, though Trent’s wallet appeared well-stocked, she had no idea how far the money would take her. A taxi to Milan was her best plan.

  At the door, she took a deep breath, trying to work up the courage for her second bathroom escape in two hours. The thought startled a hysterical laugh. She bit it back before her nerves escalated the reaction out of control.

  Focus on the consulate.

  Her next breath shook only half as much with a goal set in place. She eased the door open, then quickly stepped back when a visual sweep of the hall revealed a door opening at the end of the corridor. A split-second glimpse of daylight and a green sign imprinted on her mind before the bathroom door shut with a soft hydraulic sigh. That green sign contained a white stick figure running toward a doorway with the word USCITA underneath—USCITA must mean exit.

  Voices reached a crescendo in the hall and then waned. Flattened against the wall, between the door and the paper towel dispenser, Halli prayed Officer Greco didn’t locate a white soda anytime soon.

  Another quick scan revealed the hall empty. Halli took a second to get her bearings. Left was back to the offices where she’d been held. No hope of escape there. To the right beckoned the exit. Only the hall didn’t end at the exit, but T’d in each direction, and between her and freedom stood two doors on either side, the last ones offices with nameplates and windows.

  Didn’t matter, she had to move. With her first step, the theme music from Jaws began to play in her head. Each step forward increased the tempo, just like in the movie. God, she was losing it!

  She made it past the first door. Her sigh of relief was cut short, however, when the second door, not ten feet in front of her swung open, and a short, fat bald man stepped out. The air seized in her lungs.

  The man turned to waddle toward the exit sign, reading a document in his hands. Halli watched in amazement as he turned the corner without even glancing in her direction.

  Could it be her luck was changing?

  A soft noise registered directly behind her just as fingers fisted in her shirt and yanked her backward into a small room. Her instinctive scream was curtailed by a large hand over her mouth. The door clicked shut and a solid wall of muscle forced the air from her lungs. A wall that smelled like leather.

  Alrigo.

  The distinct, heavy scent assaulted her senses, turning her queasy stomach. Frantic clawing to remove her living steel gag proved futile. Tears stung her eyes when they confirmed the arm holding her was indeed encased in leather. She screamed again, but the killer’s hand muffled it to a moan.

  “Shut up, sweetheart, or you’ll bring the whole damn building running.”

  Halli went completely still. Trent?

  Relief weakened her knees and wiped all logical thought from her mind. She’d never been so glad to hear a familiar voice in her life. She tried to turn and face him in the dim light, but his hold prevented any movement.

  “I told you not to go to the police.”

  Halli stiffened at the unexpected menace in his low growl and his arms banded tighter. She tried to speak, but his venomous whispers overrode her muffled attempt.

  “You’ve screwed up everything, dammit. Everything I’ve worked on for the past two months, Lorenzo’s death, saving your ass—all of it for nothing because you had to go to the damn police.”

  Lorenzo? Was that the friend he’d spoken of earlier?

  “Do you know who showed up about fifteen minutes ago, Halli?” Trent snarled in her ear. “While you’re wandering around the police station like some lost little tourist?”

  She tried to nod her head, but he spun her around so they were face to face. His hand remained glued over her mouth as he pinned her against the door. Beneath the shadow of his blue baseball cap, hazel eyes burned into hers with an anger that scared her almost as much as the man out in the station.

  “Your buddy from the villa. The guy who shot up my car when he tried to kill you. And what thanks do I get? You turn around and walk straight into his hands. He’s waiting out there right now to finish what he started this morning.”

  Halli couldn’t suppress a terrified shiver in the face of Trent’s blunt, furious words. A dark, dangerous aura cloaked them in the confined space as she endured his glower. So why, then, was she also completely aware of every inch of his hard, angry body vibrating against hers?

  Something fluttered in the pit of her stomach, something more than fear. She darted her gaze around, desperate to focus on something other than him. They appeared to be in some sort of storage closet, full of miscellaneous items and janitorial supplies.

  “I’m taking you out of here right now,” Trent stated, compelling her attention back to him. “Despite the pain-in-the-ass you’ve been, I refuse to let them kill you like they did my brother and Lorenzo. I can’t live with another death on my hands, you hear me?”

  Halli frowned in confusion at the gruff declaration. His brother committed suicide. It’d been all over the news. Here, in Italy, in Trent’s villa, almost three months ago.

  “Once we’re out of here,” Trent continued, “I’ll take you to Milan, to the Consulate General. You’ll be better off there. Safer. Then they can deal with the consequences of what you’ve done and help you find your family.”

  Tears threatened, even though he’d just told her he’d take her exactly where she wanted to go. She really was losing it, because though she knew now she’d been wrong to come here, knew she should’ve listened to him, his recriminations piled on the guilt.

  Until indignation reared up and reminded her, what the hell had he expected her to do? Sit in his house like a victim?

  “Deal?” he demanded.

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to move my hand. Don’t. Scream.”

  She shook her head, assuring him she’d be quiet.

  His gaze narrowed, holding hers for one last quiet warning. “Understand this, if you don’t trust me to get us out of here, if you choose not to believe me right now, then we’re both as good as dead.”

  Trent watched Halli jerk her head in another nod and finally, slowly, removed his hand. He was still pissed as hell, worried as to how they’d even get out of the building, and not the least bit sorry for the fear he’d stirred up in her eyes.

  He stepped back, paused briefly at the sight of her slim figure in the tight Wet &
Wild T-shirt, then spun to survey the contents of the closet. It was time to pull off the act of a lifetime. If he didn’t, it might be his last.

  “How’d you find me?” Halli whispered.

  “Where else were you going to go?”

  “I might have gone to my hotel.”

  “Supposedly, you had no money, and honey, you don’t strike me as the type to stick out your thumb on the side of the road. Not that it would’ve done you any good anyway, since your brother and sister never checked in.”

  “What? How—”

  He tossed her a frown. “Shhh.”

  She moved closer and grabbed his arm. Lowered her voice to a desperate whisper. “How do you know? I never mentioned the name of the hotel we were going to stay at. How—”

  “I found your travel itinerary with your passport and money and called to check. As of about an hour ago, neither of them had registered. Your brother isn’t answering his cell, either.”

  The concern in her eyes told him he probably should’ve kept that information to himself until after they were on the way to Milan.

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Tell him something he didn’t know. It had him a little worried, too, but it wasn’t his problem. Same as she’d no longer be a pain in his ass as soon as he dropped her at the consulate.

  Trent grasped her shoulders, forcing her gaze to meet his. “Forget them for now and concentrate on us. You can’t find them if you’re dead.”

  Fear flashed in her eyes again, but she stiffened her spine and determination overrode all else. Good. Maybe she finally understood the seriousness of the situation. He stepped over to a shelf with clothes items folded on it. He’d seen a janitor working during the day at Lorenzo’s station once or twice, so this might work. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it to Halli.

  She folded it over her arm, against her stomach. “The female officer who was getting me a soda has probably found out I’m gone by now.”

  “Yep.” He jerked a pair of coveralls out and held them up. Too small for him, too big for her. As he tossed them aside, he instructed, “Do something with your hair. Put it up. Something so it looks different.”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s an exit just down the hall. That’s where I was headed when you grabbed me.”

  Trent glanced over in surprise. “You were leaving?”

  “I saw the guy from the villa, too. I think his name is Alrigo. At least that’s what the officer called him—”

  His pulse skipped a beat. Alrigo Lapaglia. He’d heard of the guy a couple times, and Lorenzo had said his name on the wire, but he hadn’t been able to put a face with the name until now. “You’re sure he said Alrigo?”

  “Yes. He was talking to one of the cops, and he said video camera twice, so I pretended to be sick so I could get out of there.” She tucked the jacket between her knees as she tied her hair in a ponytail with a piece of string she’d pulled off a shelf. “Did you watch the video?”

  “Exactly when do you think I would’ve had time to find a battery?”

  “I just thought…well, it’s been a couple of hours since I left your place.”

  “And I’ve been sitting outside, waiting to make sure you were okay.”

  Her turn to look surprised. “You waited for me?”

  “Don’t read anything into it. I’d have done the same for a stray dog.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Right back at ya, baby.”

  He held up another pair of coveralls. Close enough. As he stepped into them, he directed a new surge of anger toward her bent head.

  “You screwed me over real good, you know that? After your story, the police have probably already swarmed my place and found the camera and the video. Not to mention the recording from Lorenzo’s wire. That was my only proof—”

  “I didn’t tell them about you.”

  His hand halted in amazement, the coveralls half zipped. “You didn’t?”

  She looked up as she shook her head.

  “Seriously? Why not?”

  She lowered her gaze and shrugged, her cheeks suddenly rosy red. He zipped the coveralls the rest of the way before stepping close with a relieved smile. She took a half-step back, her eyes wide.

  He took hold of her face with both hands and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Finally…you did something right. We just might make it out of here.”

  A frown creased her brow, accompanied by a look of chagrin. To forestall the expected argument, he took off his cap, put it on her head, and tugged it low over her face. Hopefully the coveralls and his two-day scruff would be enough to throw anyone off. And now that he knew they weren’t looking for him, too, his plan had a better chance of succeeding.

  He took his jacket from her and draped it around her stiff-set shoulders. A nudge toward the door met with resistance, but he pushed harder. “Listen up, girlfriend Cara. You just found out you’re pregnant and came to tell me here at work. Your parents had forbidden us to see each other and your father hates me, so naturally, you’re crying at the thought of having to tell them. I’ll hug you close and escort you outside to my car, and we’re home free.”

  Her blue eyes were full of apprehension. “You make it sound easy.”

  “It will be. Just act like you’re devastated.”

  He reached for the door. Her hand secured a vice grip on his.

  “I don’t understand. How will anyone know what you just told me?”

  Trent held back a growl of irritation, pulled free of her grip and swiped his damp palm along the side of his costume. A square shape in one of the pockets caught his attention. “It’s back story, baby, so you can act the part better.”

  “Oh, right—back story. I forgot.”

  He shook a cigarette from the pack of smokes he’d discovered and lit it with the accompanying lighter. “What do you mean, you forgot?”

  “Nothing.”

  Trent squinted through the smoke curling up between them, wondering about her sudden clipped tone. Her eyes had taken on a bleak, haunted look. He wanted to ask her about it, but they had to get their butts moving.

  “You smoke?”

  He frowned at her disapproving, wrinkled-up nose. Seriously? “My character does. And he’s just a tad bit stressed at the moment.”

  “Oh.”

  He tucked the pack back in his pocket, took a drag, fought a cough, and exhaled.

  Show time.

  Halli watched Trent reach for the door, her pulse pumping in permanent overdrive—pretty much since the moment she’d met him. At the last second, she put her hand over his on the door knob.

  “Just don’t smile, okay?”

  He looked at her like she was crazy. “You’re upset, you’ve just told me you’re pregnant and your father will kill me if he finds out. Why on earth would I smile?”

  Great, now she felt like an idiot. “I don’t know. I just thought you should know your smile is very recognizable.”

  His lips curved into the exact smile she’d seen countless times over the past ten years. His perfect, white, famous smile. “Thanks for the reminder.” The smile disappeared in the blink of an eye. “Now start crying.”

  She took a deep breath as he opened the door. Trent’s immediate stream of fluent, dramatic Italian threw her for a moment, but she focused on the part he’d asked her to play. Fear of never seeing Ben and Rachel again and of getting caught by the man from the villa welled real tears in her eyes. A blink spilled them over the edge of her lashes, down her face. She added a soft sob when Trent put an arm around her and drew her close.

  Because she didn’t understand a word he said, all she could do was cry, her face buried against his chest while he led her toward the exit. The strong scent of bleach from the coveralls filled her nostrils. He’d smelled better in the car.

  Voices from one of the upcoming corridors robbed her of any smidgeon of security his embrace gave her. She tensed. Trent’s hold tightened, but he didn’t stop talking or walking
. Smoke curled in front of her from the cigarette in his hand by her shoulder. She lifted her hands to cover her face and sobbed harder.

  Trent’s lips pressed to her ear as two officers walked by. “Not so damn loud.”

  She toned it down. A moment later, his other hand cupped her cheek. He halted and lifted her face to his, his thumb swiped across her skin to remove the moisture.

  What was he doing? Why was he stopping? They had to keep moving.

  Italian words spilled from his mouth, full of heartfelt emotion to match a glowing intensity in his hazel eyes. Halli’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Shake your head no,” he whispered.

  She blinked. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the men who’d passed them paused halfway along the corridor to watch their drama. She did as Trent instructed and restarted the waterworks for good measure. He hugged her close again, spouted more foreign lines with a consoling accent, and steered her for the door.

  The white little running man on the exit sign near the door beckoned.

  Halli fought not to run the last ten feet. Almost there. They were going to make it. Just walk right out. She couldn’t believe it was as easy as he’d said. Then she noticed another sign posted on the door and tried to slow their steps.

  “That looks like a warning of some kind,” she whispered to Trent.

  “It’s for an alarm.” He urged her forward. “But it’s—”

  Halli sucked in a breath and planted her feet.

  “—not activated.”

  “How do you know?” she asked in desperation.

  “How do you think I got in here?”

  Trent reached around her and pushed open the door. Halli cringed, eyes squeezed tight, expecting an ear-piercing warning to announce their escape.

  Silence.

  She opened her eyes again and breathed. No alarm. The sun was still shining, though it had started its evening decent in the brilliant blue sky. She sniffed away any remaining tears and turned to smile up at Trent from underneath the baseball cap.

  A shout behind them wiped away her exhilaration a second before Trent’s rough shove propelled her the rest of the way through the open doorway.