Lost in Italy

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  She shifted in her seat and crossed her arms across her chest. “Where are we going?”

  “Back to my place.”

  She opened her mouth to ask why, but he beat her to it.

  “To get the video. I also still have your passport and money, and I need my wallet. I didn’t exactly have time to pack a bag when I saw you hightailing it across the yard.”

  To avoid any more of his sarcasm, she retreated to silent mode the remainder of the drive. And since they were going back to his house, she decided she’d drop his wallet back where she’d found it. No sense admitting to the jerk that she’d stolen it in the first place. Her twinge of irrational guilt over the money she’d ‘borrowed’ would go away when she tucked a twenty somewhere after he’d returned her travel purse.

  Fifteen minutes later, inside his garage again, the scene played out much differently than before. Halli couldn’t help but remember the feel of his body when he’d pressed her against the door. And when he’d kissed her by the car. In both instances, she’d learned first hand the man had the muscles to back up every shirtless photo spread he’d ever done.

  Banishing the multiple, vivid images of those photos from her mind, she followed him into the house and watched as he reactivated the alarm.

  “How’d you get the code?” he asked on his way to the kitchen.

  “You keyed it in right in front of me while holding me hostage, remember?”

  He reached into the refrigerator, then shut the door and tossed her a bottle of water before twisting the cap off one for himself. He mock-toasted her. “Lesson learned for next time.”

  The sight of him lifting the bottle to his lips and drinking three quarters of the liquid in a few deep swallows shouldn’t have been sexy, but darn it, she got hot watching him.

  Halli quickly turned away. “Year you were born, right?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “It’s only four years before mine, so it’s not like I’d have to be a genius to figure it out.” She couldn’t help but face him again with a condescending smile. “You should never use your birth date for a password.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said dryly. “For now, I’ll leave it, in case you need to use it for any reason.”

  She mock toasted him before ambling toward the living room while taking a drink of her water. If she could get to the bar before him, she’d replace the wallet and he’d be none the wiser. “I’ll be gone once you get my passport and drive me to Milan,” she reminded over her shoulder. “Completely out of your hair.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  Halli startled at the sound of his voice right behind her. When he brushed past, her jaw clenched. Holding back a growl of frustration, she stared at his back as he headed for the bar. Now how was she going to pull this off without him seeing her?

  “However,” he continued, “I think we should…”

  What she needed was a plausible distraction—

  Trent spun and lunged toward her. “Get down!”

  Chapter 6

  Halli dropped to all fours behind a chair, her heart lodged in her throat. Her bottle of water rolled across the hardwood floor, gurgling a wet trail. “Wh-what’s the matter?”

  “Shh.”

  Trent pressed close, arm half around her as he moved into a crouched position and rose up slightly to peer above the armrest.

  Fear sunk its talons in deep. “Oh my God, did they find us?”

  His razor sharp gaze swept the living room and moved to the windows. “I don’t know, but someone’s been in the house,” he whispered. “They might still be here.”

  “How do you know?” Her heart thumped wildly despite the heat of his body next to hers.

  “My wallet’s gone. I left it on the bar earlier.”

  Halli went limp with relief beside him. Tingles spread through her body with the retreat of adrenaline. “It’s right here.” Without thinking twice, she shifted away for more room and lifted the hem of her sweatshirt to fish his wallet from her front pocket. “God, you scared me half to death.”

  He glanced down at her hand, then did a double take. “What the hell?”

  She started to hand it over, but he stripped it from her fingers in a swift motion. When he flipped it open, she pushed to her feet, scooped up her mostly empty water, and tried to make light of the theft. “I owe you twenty bucks.”

  He stood as well, still taking stock of the contents of his wallet. “And you talk about me with your nose stuck in the air.” Finally, he shut it and slid it into his back pocket. “At least I haven’t lied or stolen from you.”

  Halli followed him into the kitchen, guilt overridden by indignation. “Whoa, hold on. You’ve got my passport and all my money, but now I’m the bad guy for taking your wallet?”

  “You gave them to me. Threw them at me, remember? I didn’t steal anything from you.” He opened a drawer, withdrew her things, including the camera, and thumped them on the counter.

  “Before you get up on your righteous high horse, let’s take a look at this from my point of view,” Halli challenged. “I was just sitting there minding my own business when you showed up. After your cheesy pick-up lines didn’t work, you threw me into your car—”

  “Cheesy pick-up lines? They were shooting at you! Would you rather I’d left you there?”

  “My point of view, remember?” She slammed her water bottle hard on the countertop, surprising even herself with her vehemence. Water splashed from the open top, all over her hand, arm, and the countertop.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a hip against the counter, a look of annoyed resignation tightening his features.

  The itch on her palm would go away if she smacked his handsome face right now. She was sure of it.

  Resisting the temptation, she clenched her fingers, short nails digging into her skin as she tried a different approach. “You may be used to crazy things like this, but back in Wisconsin, I have a set schedule that I’m comfortable with. I work, I exercise, and at the end of the day, I relax in my garden or by reading a book. The last thing I expected after only a couple hours in a foreign country was to be stranded, kidnapped and shot at. On top of all that, you refused to go to the police and forced me into your house. Believe me, I don’t make a habit of stealing from people, but I’m just a little out of my element here,” she lifted her trembling hand, thumb and forefinger about an inch apart, “so excuse me for not quite being myself.”

  He snorted. “This version of yourself sounds a hell of a lot more interesting than your regular self.”

  She scowled at his rude comment.

  “I’m curious about one thing, though.”

  His casual, conversational tone raised her suspicion. “What?”

  “When did you plan to go to the bathroom during your trip?” He shoved her purse across the counter. “I didn’t see any potty breaks scheduled on that itinerary of yours.”

  Halli snatched up her purse, annoyed that he’d gone through her things. He sounded like Ben, making fun of her plans. Ironically, if they’d stuck to her plans, she wouldn’t be in this mess right now, dealing with the likes of him.

  “So what if I like a little order in my life?” she muttered defensively.

  “You call that order? Try obsessive. Or anal. Or—”

  “Or shut up.”

  He smiled, but his expression quickly sobered. “Listen, I understand it’s been one hell of a day for you. Despite what you may think, this is far from normal for me, too. But like it or not, you stepped into something very serious. After everything that’s happened today, these guys won’t care what you’ve actually got on that video anymore. They’ll kill first, and watch it later. I—”

  “Thank you, because I needed that reminder. This Alrigo guy wants me dead and I don’t even know who he is!” She spun away from Trent, tears stinging her eyes from his dire prediction. “I can’t believe I came to Italy and got mixed up with the mafia.”

  A moment later
his hands slid onto her shoulders, sending her into the air about three inches.

  His fingers tightened before rubbing her tense muscles. “They’re not mafia.”

  “Then who are they?” Tingles radiated along her shoulders from his gentle massage.

  “The less you know, the better. It’s safer that way.”

  She rolled her eyes even though her back was to him. “How do you know?”

  Suddenly, she felt like she’d been smacked upside the head and twisted away from his hands to face him. She narrowed her gaze. “How do you know? About the video, what I filmed, who these guys are? What were you doing there?”

  He didn’t want to tell her, she could see it in his face. She crossed her arms and waited, trying to ignore a growing dread turning her blood colder by the second. Why hadn’t she asked these questions earlier?

  He ran a hand through his hair, down the back of his head to rub his neck.

  She forced the next question into the silence. “Are you working with them?”

  “No.” His gaze shifted toward the living room.

  Suspicion mushroomed and Halli swallowed hard. “That was a quick denial.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  She watched an inner debate play out in his expression as he stared past her shoulder. Pain shadowed his eyes and drew the corners of his mouth down. Just when she thought he’d explain what was going on, he lifted his arm to look at his watch.

  “I’ve got to get that battery before the shops close for the night.”

  What was it he didn’t want her to know? Her mind raced. He had to be involved; how else would he know about everything?

  Trent grabbed his keys and the camera from the counter and headed toward the door. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Her stomach knotted, shoving aside suspicion. Despite what she’d just been thinking, the thought of being by herself was scarier than any conspiracy she could dream up right now.

  She rushed after him. “You’re not leaving me here.”

  Trent paused, his attention focused on the sudden death grip she had on his arm. “I can’t take you with me, what if we run into more cops? One of them might recognize you.”

  “I’ll duck down in my seat.” She fought a lump of fear rising in her throat. “Please, Trent, don’t leave me alone.”

  He rested both hands on her shoulders, his gaze locked with hers. “No one knows of my part in any of this. You’re safe here. Take a little nap, and I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Why can’t we just pick up a battery on the way to Milan?”

  His thumbs rubbed up and down her neck in a light, comforting caress.

  “Halli, you’re exhausted; I can see it in your face. Things won’t magically be over once you’re at the consulate. You need to get some sleep.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep.” She thought of how she’d almost passed out at the police station, but at that point, she’d considered herself safe. Now he was going to leave her alone after multiple reminders that the bad guys were still out there, guns at the ready. Shoot first, ask questions later.

  “You’re safe. Fix yourself something to eat and just close your eyes to rest,” he suggested.

  Mutely, she shook her head, imploring him with her eyes to take her along. He keyed in the security code and gently but firmly pushed her away.

  “Make me something, too, would you? I’m starving.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Trent stepped into the garage and shut the door between them. Halli reached for the handle, then pulled back and swung around to face the kitchen. With one arm hugging her stomach, she pressed her other hand hard against her lips to still the tremble in her fingers. Both hands clenched into fists as she fought the emotions trying to turn her into a helpless puddle of terror.

  All she needed to do was think things through calmly, rationally. He’d be back soon and they’d leave for Milan. At the consulate she’d get the help she needed and—

  Her gaze swept the room for a phone. There! On the far wall. She could call Ben! Her fingers shook as she dialed his cell phone number.

  Answer the phone, Ben. Please, answer.

  By the eighth ring it switched to voice mail. Thank God it wasn’t the Italian recording like earlier when Trent had informed her cell service around the lake could be spotty after she’d gotten her hopes up. At the sound of her brother’s voice, she dissolved into tears, left a somewhat hysterical message asking why and where they were, but when her words came out garbled beyond recognition, she hung up mid-sentence.

  Determination made her reign her emotions back under control and the second message was a bit more successful; she apologized for the blubbering, told him she was okay, and she’d try the hotel.

  The front desk of the Grand Hotel confirmed Trent’s claim that no Sanders had registered yet. Halli hung up, new worry gnawing at her gut.

  Why haven’t they checked into the hotel by now? When they came back and didn’t find me, the next logical step would be to check in at the hotel and wait for me there. They had to come back to look for me, so where are they now?

  She redialed the hotel and left a message for Ben in case they showed up later. Then she called his cell phone, forced herself to remain calm as she waited for the voicemail to kick in, and left a third message.

  “Me again. Not sure where you guys are or what’s going on, but I’m okay.” She laughed, knowing Ben would when he listened. “Yeah, I know, not so believable after the last two messages...but really, I’m fine, so don’t worry about me. I’m going to the Consulate General in Milan. It’s like an embassy. Meet me there in the morning by ten. I’ll wait out front for you.”

  She hung up the phone and slumped into a nearby chair, relieved to have a solid plan in place once more. Ben and Rachel would meet her in Milan and everything would be okay.

  Energy drained from her like she’d pulled the plug in a tub. God, Trent was right, she was exhausted. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since arriving in the country.

  He had plenty to eat in his refrigerator, but in the end it was easiest to just warm a can of Spaghetti O’s. At last, something familiar.

  As she ate, she thought about Trent’s hesitation when she’d questioned his part in the situation. And he’d swiped her camera on the way out, taking with him the only tangible evidence she had of this entire unbelievable day.

  After he’d refused to explain his involvement.

  “I need you, sweetheart, it’s as simple as that.”

  Why did he need her if he had the video? What use was she to him? None of it made sense.

  The canned pasta in her stomach churned, and what was left in her bowl lost its already limited appeal. She returned to the kitchen, dumped her leftovers in the garbage and deposited her dishes in the sink. Leaning back against the counter, she gripped the edge so hard numbing tingles shot through her fingers.

  How is he involved in this whole thing?

  Impulse propelled her to the drawer where he’d stashed her purse and camera. A quick rummage revealed nothing of significance and she slammed it shut before moving on to another one.

  Halli worked her way through the house, not quite knowing what she was looking for, but somehow the systematic progression of her hasty search kept her in a semi-state of calm. Taking action instead of letting things happen gave her a tiny sense of much-coveted control.

  One of the bedrooms smelled odd. A combination of fresh paint and the scent of new carpeting mingled in the stale air, suggesting it’d been closed up for awhile. All the drawers and closets were empty save one. When she saw men’s clothes along with boxes of cameras and film equipment, something clicked in her mind. Trent’s brother had been a documentary film maker, just like their father, Greg Tomlin.

  Her gaze scanned the room again, this time comprehending the fresh paint and new carpeting. Of course. This must have been where he’d died. The furnishings looked new. As if they’d been hastily replaced,
instead of someone taking the time to find antique pieces like in the guestroom she’d used earlier.

  The hairs on the back of her neck pricked and a chill raced down her spine. Backing up, she rushed from the room and slammed the door, unable to stomach the thought of Sean Tomlin’s lifeless body on the bed as the newspapers had reported.

  In the hall, as she leaned against the wall to take a couple of deep breaths, her gaze focused on the door at the end, the room she’d heard Trent in earlier when she’d made her escape. A likely place to store things he wanted kept private. Heart still pounding wildly, she hurried across the carpet and twisted the door handle.

  There was no doubt it was Trent’s room. One hundred percent male was stamped on the heavy, walnut furniture of the four poster king bed, two dressers, a desk and a black leather chair. On the walls, stark black and white outdoor photos complimented the dark bedding and drapes. The pictures reminded her of Ansel Adams and she wouldn’t be surprised if they were originals.

  She made it halfway across the room before a part of her balked at violating Trent’s personal privacy. Then she thought of him ransacking her purse and quickly forgot her hesitation. She started with his dresser drawers, but the only thing of interest she found there were designer boxer briefs and a box of extra-large condoms.

  Lovely. Just what she wanted to know.

  Mentally blocking the memory of their earlier kiss and the feel of his hard body, she headed for the desk. In the third drawer, she hit pay dirt. Buried on the bottom, a leather bound notebook sat atop a thick stack of newspaper articles. Articles about Sean Tomlin’s suicide. Thumbing through them, she saw a couple she’d read back in the States. She’d been as shocked and saddened as much of the world, especially since it’d never been made public until his death that Trent’s brother had fought a battle with depression most of his adult life.

  Though not as renowned as their legendary father, Sean Tomlin’s last two documentaries had garnered rave reviews from critics and audiences alike. Through her job in public television, Halli had watched and respected his work even before he grew in popularity. He’d been a rising star, unafraid to tackle subjects others shied away from. The world had lost something special when he died.