Lost in Italy

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  “What—”

  He cut her off with a jerk of his hand. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears in the dead quiet. Somewhere in the house, a door slammed. Halli moved closer, pressing up against Trent’s wet back. His muscles tensed.

  “Okay, I’ve got a plan…”

  “I like plans,” she assured him.

  “Assuming this is Lapaglia, we’ve got to get the hell out of here. My car is out—we won’t make it to the garage—but my balcony stairs lead down to the pool deck, which will take us to the lake. Ever drive a boat?”

  “My brother’s ski boat.”

  “Close enough. I have a cabin cruiser in the boat house and the key is hanging next to the light switch on the right side of the door. Don’t turn on the lights. I’ll get us in and open the front doors, you untie the boat and get it started. Got it?”

  She nodded. Good God, she was still having a hell of a time catching her breath.

  Trent reached for the window latch. “Stick right with me, and whatever the hell happens, do not lose that camera.”

  He shoved the window wide open, and Halli slid her arm through the camera strap and draped it around her neck and diagonally across her chest before following him onto the balcony. Faint light from the pool glowed below, but up here, they were enclosed in darkness. Afraid of losing him, she grabbed hold of the back waistband of Trent’s jeans. He reached around to remove her hand, wrapping his fingers tight around hers as he led her down the stairs that descended to the patio. The warmth of his large hand gave her a boost of reassurance.

  At first they kept close to the villa, and Halli ran her free hand along the cool, coarse stones that made up the outside walls of his home. Surprisingly, the solid mass beneath her fingers offered a sense of safety. Then he pulled her away from the wall toward the pool.

  Two strides into the open, she caught a flash of shadow from the corner of her eye. She whipped her head around in time to see a dark figure lunge at them. She screamed Trent’s name as the man caught her free arm. One vicious yank tore Halli’s hand from Trent’s grasp. She cried out again, stumbling backward. An arm closed around her neck, and another rose up, pointed at Trent.

  In the glow of light from the pool, Halli saw the outline of a gun in a gloved hand. She threw her head back as hard as she could into her captor’s face. Pain radiated through her already tender skull. The man cried out in a hoarse voice at the same time she heard a sharp little clicking noise, followed by what sounded like a kernel of popcorn popping. The arm around her neck loosened.

  Trent swore; a vicious, guttural explosion of words. Halli thrust her elbow back, got in a sharp jab to her assailant’s ribs, and broke free when the man gasped for air. Trent pulled her out of the way, and she experienced a second of relief that he was okay.

  “Go,” he ordered with a push, his voice rough and hard. “Follow the plan. I’m right behind you.”

  Halli didn’t need to be told twice. She bolted into the darkness, toward the grayish outline of the white boat house. With every step across the dew-wet yard, her camera banged against her side. Deep grunts of exertion and the drag of metal on stone made her glance over her shoulder toward the patio.

  Adrenaline surged at the sight of a short, dark figure only yards behind her—and definitely not Trent. Her lungs burned, legs ached. Fear clogged her throat. She’d never outrun the man in the slippery grass.

  Seconds later, a heavy body slammed into her from behind. She cried out as they both tumbled to the slick ground. Labored breathing filled the air. A brutal grip on her arm forced her onto her back. In the sallow light of a partial moon, menace gleamed in his dark eyes and twisted his thin lips. She struggled against his cruel hold, but his suffocating weight pressed her back into the hard earth.

  One meaty hand latched onto the camera strap around her neck and pulled hard. The nylon bit painfully into her skin, but held. When he yanked a second time, Halli reached up and raked her nails across his face, digging in as hard as she could. He reared back with a pained roar. Four dark lines appeared on his cheek, all the way to his chin.

  She scrambled backward on her hands and feet, constricted lungs sucking in air. Just when she thought she’d escaped, a vice grip locked on her ankle and dragged her back over the wet grass.

  Shadows played across the scratches on his face, turning his expression murderous. Absolute terror seized her heart. Lifting her other foot, she aimed for his face and kicked with every ounce of strength she could summon.

  A sickening crunch of cartilage imprinted on her memory. The man gasped and then collapsed to the ground face first. The abrupt freedom took Halli by surprise. Until it registered the body in front of her lay completely still.

  Unnaturally still.

  Oh my God, he’s dead!

  She shot back a few more feet, her stomach churning. Her eyes had adjusted to the night and the man’s outline in the grass seemed to loom higher and higher in her terrified conscious.

  “Halli!”

  Trent’s voice jerked her attention from the lifeless body, snapping her out of her shock. He ran across the murky yard toward her. She pushed to her feet, but stumbled a few steps before gaining her footing.

  Follow the plan.

  Determination carried her to the boat house and slammed her into the door. Locked. She beat on the wood with rising hysteria. She’d just killed a man. Surreal had become a nightmare.

  A hand on her shoulder startled a scream, but she cut it off abruptly when she saw Trent.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Leaning against the door, she shook her head back and forth in despair. “I think I just killed someone.”

  “Yeah? Well, I know I did. You still got the camera?”

  What? He knew he did? My God, it just got worse and wo—

  His hands gripped her shoulders. “Halli—please tell me you still have the camera.”

  The panic in his voice cut through her dazed thoughts. “Yes, yes, I have the camera.”

  “Thank God. Now move it so I can get this door open.”

  “It’s locked—”

  He shoved her aside and stepped back. Lifting one foot, he delivered a massive kick to the door, bare foot flat against the wood. The sound of splintering wood reached her ears as the door flew inward and slammed against the inside wall. For a moment, Halli would’ve sworn Shain West stood before her. A lump formed in her throat and she wished with all her heart it was a movie and not real.

  I killed someone!

  “Grab the key, I’ll unlatch the front doors.”

  Trent disappeared inside. Halli glanced toward the villa, reaching a shaky hand inside to feel for the light switch. He’d said the boat key hung right next to it. Her hand slipped down, and when she jerked it back up, light flooded the boat house and spilled into the yard beyond.

  “No lights, dammit!”

  With a gasp, Halli flipped the switch, plunging them back into darkness. In those few seconds, though, she’d spotted someone bent over the man she’d kicked, helping him to his feet. Duly motivated, she grabbed the key and spun for the boat. Irrational relief combined with fear to send her heart into her throat.

  “My guy’s not dead! But there’s another one helping him!”

  Hands outstretched, she felt her way to the boat. In the middle of unwinding the stern’s mooring rope from its post, she heard the clunk of wood on wood, and a splash from the water’s end of the boat house. As she fumbled her way to the bow, she ran into Trent in the dark. He sucked in a breath but steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.

  “Start the boat,” he bit out. “When I say go, push her full throttle.”

  “What are you—”

  But he was gone again, headed for the busted door. Halli took care of the remaining rope, held her camera against her chest with the fisted key, and leapt onto the boat. Noises behind her sounded just like what had echoed in her ear when their first attacker had fired his gun at Trent. Squinting in the shadowy darkness, she saw Tre
nt’s outline crouched by the door, arm extended. Another click-pop coincided with a slight upward jerk of his hand and arm.

  He had a gun? Where the heck did he get a gun from?

  The dull thud of multiple bullets impacting the stern of the boat spurred her back into action. She climbed into the captain’s chair, but stayed low. Locating the ignition slot in the dark took a few nerve-wracking seconds. Finally, the key slid in and she turned it. The engines rumbled to life, throbbing with suppressed power beneath her feet.

  She squinted in an attempt to make out some of the cockpit layout, waiting breathlessly for Trent to give the okay. Her fingers warmed cold metal as she suppressed the instinctive urge to open the throttle right—

  “Now, Halli, go!”

  Adrenaline spiked again as she rose up and thrust the throttle forward. The engines responded with a deafening roar. Water churned from the sudden velocity of the propellers, flooding the back doorway. Her head jerked back as they shot forward. A loud boom scared the daylights out of her, but the boat kept going so she plowed on. After they’d exited the building, she figured out Trent had unlatched the front doors but not taken the time to push them open.

  Driving the cruiser with the running lights off, she searched anxiously to avoid other vessels. Once they were well out of range of the men and their guns on the dock, she’d be able to slow down.

  A strange thrill of exhilaration coursed through her as the wind whipped her hair. It’d be frightening if she didn’t feel so amazingly, wonderfully alive. She couldn’t believe they’d pulled off the plan and escaped for a third time. And she hadn’t killed a man!

  After another minute, she eased the throttle back to about ten miles per hour, turned on the running lights, double checked to make sure there were no boats in the near vicinity that she’d run into, and removed the camera from around her neck. As she dropped it on the captain’s seat behind her, she laughed and threw a victory smile over her shoulder for Trent.

  Her heart anchored in her stomach at the sight of the empty boat.

  Chapter 10

  Trent didn’t have the strength to pull himself up the built-in swim ladder and over the side of the Scappare one handed, especially with the heavy drag of the water against his jeans. He’d nearly let go when the boat slowed, but she hadn’t stopped yet. He was amazed he’d held on this long.

  The boat’s running lights blinked on.

  “Trent!”

  Halli’s voice was shrill with alarm. Without warning, their forward momentum dropped to nothing. His body slammed into the ladder. Pain blurred the edges of his consciousness as a small tidal wave of lake water washed up over his head, filling his mouth and nose with the nasty-tasting shit. Battling through the haze in his brain, Trent fought to keep his fingers fisted on the ladder rung and his legs clear of the propellers beneath the back end of the boat.

  The water subsided as the cruiser bobbed and coasted after the abrupt stop. Over the low growl of the idling motor, Halli called out his name again, sounding even more frantic than before.

  Trent coughed and spit a mouthful of water. “Back here.” The words scraped his raw throat.

  Halli’s face appeared over the edge of the stern. “Thank, God!” Her brow wrinkled, despite the relieved smile on her face. “I thought I left you behind.”

  He summoned a weary grin. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, sweetheart.”

  “I wouldn’t have left you on purpose. I swear, Trent, I—”

  “Relax. It was a joke.” He coughed up more water.

  “Oh, right.”

  She smiled down at him, her brow smoothed this time. All of a sudden, despite knowing only four years separated them, she looked incredibly young. Or maybe it was just that he felt so damn old after the past ten minutes. And tired. And sore.

  As much as he enjoyed seeing her smile after so many frowns throughout the day, his arm throbbed with painful insistence. He didn’t imagine the polluted lake water was good for an open wound, either. Unfortunately, where he needed to go looked very far away. Clenching his jaw tight, he took hold of both sides of the ladder and secured a foothold on the bottom rung under the water.

  “Need a hand?” Halli asked.

  “I got it.”

  Each flex of his left bicep was like a knife stabbing into his arm, but somehow he made it to the top. Prepared to heave himself over the side, his wet hand slipped on the smooth fiberglass and his ribs took the brunt of his weight when he landed on the hard edge of the side of the boat. A deep groan whooshed between his compressed lips.

  Halli stepped forward, grabbed hold of his arm and pulled. White hot agony seared along his nerve endings and an involuntary, hoarse shout tore from his lips.

  She let go and jumped back in surprise. “I’m sorry!”

  Trent fought to breathe. Pain washed over him in undulating waves. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except that she’d latched on right where a bullet had ripped through his skin. She’d also tipped his balance enough that he slid all the way into the boat with a thud, unable to halt his forward momentum with his injured arm.

  “Oh…God.” Halli stood in front of him, staring at her hands tinged red from his blood. “You’re hurt.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  The guy on the patio had given him a roundhouse kick in the chest that knocked him on his ass. He’d be dead right now if the wrought iron chair he’d grabbed hadn’t deflected the bullet meant for his head. Not only had the chair saved his life, it made an effective weapon, too.

  Trent pushed to his feet and promptly dropped onto the back half-bench seat. A sharp jab in the ass reminded him he’d jammed the gun deep in the back waistband of his jeans before hollering for Halli to go. The extended length of the silencer screwed into the barrel is what bit him in the butt.

  He leaned forward to pull it free, and Halli stared.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “That guy you laid out in the grass didn’t seem to need it anymore.” He released the ammo clip into his left hand, checked to find four bullets left, and punched the clip back in before setting the gun on the seat. “Nice job back there, by the way.”

  “Turns out I didn’t kill him.”

  “So you said.” He didn’t think he’d killed her guy either, though he was pretty sure he’d hit at least one of them before diving for the boat.

  With the worst of the agony in his arm having subsided to an insistent throb, he angled toward the rear running lights and gingerly pulled on his left elbow to get a good look at the gash. It hurt like hell, but luckily the bullet had only grazed his bicep.

  Halli’s indrawn breath made a hissing sound through her teeth. His sideways glance took in her ashen face as she stared first at his arm, then the dark stains on her hands.

  “You’re not one of those people who freaks out over a little blood, are you?” he asked.

  Wide blue eyes rose to meet with his, then dropped back to his arm. A thick, red rivulet had worked its way through the wet hairs on his arm until it dripped off his elbow onto his jeans.

  “Uh…that’s more than a little.”

  Another drop hit his thigh as she reached a hand to grip the side railing. He took note of her white knuckles. “Sit down before you pass out.”

  She blinked before visibly pulling herself together.

  “No, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” She took a step toward him. “I can help. Ah…first thing is to stop the bleeding. Right? What do we need? Bandages. First aid kit. You have to have one on a boat, right? Where would that be?”

  She whirled toward the front of the boat and back to him with the last two questions.

  Trent picked up the gun again and stood. “Slow down. I’m getting dizzy watching you spin.”

  “What are you doing? Sit down,” she instructed when he tried to move past.

  Funny how the blood rattled her, but she didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the weapon in his hand anymore.

  And she didn�
�t move out of his way. “I can get the kit if you tell me where—”

  “Right now, I’m more concerned about how far we are from the house than my arm.”

  “We’re far enough.”

  “I’m still going to check the GPS.” He tried to sidestep, but she moved with him.

  “You’re getting blood all over the place!”

  Her palm pressed flat against his chest as if she thought she could actually force him to sit down. Trent took a hasty step back. Away from the heat of her hand and the unexpected yearning it triggered the moment she made contact with his bare skin. “What do you want me to do about it? For Christ’s sake, making sure we’re safe is more important than a few drops of blood.”

  A sound of frustration rumbled in her throat, and the next thing he knew, she yanked her brown sweatshirt over her head and thrust it under his elbow. “There. Now you can check your stupid GPS while I find the first aid kit.”

  On her way below deck, he heard her mutter, “Like I’m dumb enough to stop within shooting distance of the house.”

  “It’s in the head,” he called.

  A frown creased her brow as she faced him. “What’s in my head?”

  Trent held back the smile that threatened. “The head. The first aid kit is in the head. That’s what a bathroom is called on a boat.”

  She rolled her eyes and spun away. “Then just call it a bathroom.”

  This time he gave in to the smile, though it bounced harmlessly off her back. In the next instant, the smile became a grimace as he stooped to pick her video camera up off the floor by the captain’s chair. He stowed it in the storage box under the seat cushion before dumping the gun in the cup holder next to the steering wheel.

  Still standing, he leaned back against the chair and checked the GPS. She’d gotten them out of range all right, only in the wrong direction. The worrisome question surfaced of how Lapaglia had connected him to Halli, but he shoved it aside to concentrate on getting them to a safe location. He wanted a lot more water between them and Lapaglia’s henchmen until he got his arm bandaged and figured out what the hell to do now. Heading south toward the city of Como wasn’t going to cut it.