He pulled her from the trance, and they made their way back to the obelisk, where they were supposed to meet Nathan’s contact. A lone man stood a few feet away, watching the crowd.
“I think that’s him,” Jake said.
As if on cue, the man rose and walked toward them. He was midthirties, with light brown hair and a few pounds overweight. He could easily pass as a local or a tourist.
“You are Kendall and Jake?” he asked.
Jake was relieved that the man addressed them in English. “Yes. Edward?”
“Edward Romano. There’s a little trattoria here if you’re hungry. Nothing fancy, but very good food.”
“We already ate,” Jake said. “We don’t have much time.” He wanted to get the info and get out of here. He was jittery from staying in one place too long. They found the least busy spot and listened as Edward told his story. One of his ancestors had helped build the castle where the secret order lived. According to family stories, the group was shrouded in mystery, a brotherhood of some sort, but no one was sure if they were monks or knights or Satanists. The few who had tried to investigate had disappeared. The locals believed the place was cursed.
Kendall looked intrigued. “So it’s a real castle?”
Edward nodded. “Or it used to be. I don’t know how much of it remains. It could have been destroyed.”
“You haven’t been there?”
“No.”
“What kind of stories did you hear about the order?” Kendall asked.
Edward looked over his shoulder at the bustling crowd. “Power and evil. The Protettori were feared.”
Kendall frowned. “That means protectors, I think.”
Edward nodded. “I don’t know if that is what they were really called or a name given to them by the villagers. The stories are still whispered today.”
“Did your ancestor leave any records that might help us find the box?” Jake asked.
“If he did, they’re lost now. He died a year after the castle was built. The stories go that everyone who had contact with the Protettori ended up dead. Everything I know was passed down by word of mouth.”
“Your English is excellent,” Kendall said.
“I studied at Cambridge. I wanted to see the world. To explore.”
“But you’re back here now.” Kendall watched Edward, her gaze steady.
“Italy is home. There’s something about the place, a pull. I hope you find what you’re looking for. I don’t know what the Protettori were about, but they were protecting something. I’m nosy enough to want to know what.”
Her gaze met Jake’s and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was. The box.
“You’ve never tried to find out yourself?” Kendall asked.
He looked alarmed. “No, the place is cursed.” His expression settled into an embarrassed grin. “I may be well educated, but I’m still as superstitious as my nonna. I’ll point you in the right direction. If you find anything interesting, I would appreciate it if you would share the information.” He gave them a rough map that would get them to the area. “It’s well off the road. You will have to hike in. And be careful. The stories say the path leading there is enough to kill a man.”
“Hope you brought hiking boots,” Jake said as they left.
“You didn’t like him,” Kendall said softly after a moment. “Are you naturally wary of strangers or was it something about him in particular?”
“You digging around in my head?” He could already see the drawbacks of traveling with a psychic or whatever she was. He didn’t want anyone knowing his thoughts or his past.
“I could just tell that you didn’t like him.”
“Just wary, I guess.” He couldn’t tell her it was because Edward’s eyes were the same dark brown as the dirt in a lonely, forgotten grave. “You should be wary too, considering that note.”
Kendall didn’t hear him. She was staring over her shoulder at the colonnade.
“We can’t keep playing tourists,” Jake said. “We have to find that box.”
She stood rooted to the spot, staring at Saint Peter’s Cathedral. “Fake.” She said the word so quietly Jake almost didn’t hear.
“What’s fake?”
Kendall shook her head. “What?”
“You said something was fake.”
“I did?”
“You don’t remember?”
“No.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
She pressed a palm against her forehead and looked back at Saint Peter’s Square. “I think that’s the first time.”
“Don’t tell me it’s not really Saint Peter buried there.”
She didn’t answer. Now she was scanning the crowd, searching the faces. “Someone’s watching us.”
Jake hoped she was just a paranoid psychic, but he was getting that same prickle in his neck that he’d had at the hotel. He scanned the masses looking for Thomas or anyone out of place. There was no longer any question that someone else was after the box. The only thing that worried him was how far he’d go to get it.
“Come on. Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her through the crowd. A few feet later, Kendall gasped.
“What now?” he growled.
“Someone touched me.”
“We’re in a crowd. Someone probably bumped you.” He’d been elbowed several times since they arrived.
“This was different.” She looked shaken.
He pulled her away from the spot, and when he glanced back, a man looked right at them before disappearing behind one of the columns. Thomas? Too far away to tell. If Kendall hadn’t been with him, he would’ve gone after the man, but he couldn’t do that with her in tow. “Come on. If someone’s there, we’ll lead them on a wild goose chase.”
They moved quickly, darting through groups of people, joining one party, and then slipping into another, gradually moving closer to where he’d left the Maserati. When he was sure no one was following, they hurried to the car. He put on a hat, had Kendall duck low in the seat as they left, and then drove for miles before stopping at a rental company to switch cars.
Following Edward’s directions, they headed north in the most nondescript BMW Jake could find. The drive took them through towns and scenery that the average tourist would have killed to see, but Jake and Kendall had other things on their minds besides ruins and history: the box, Thomas Little, and his warning note. If it was his. Jake looked at Kendall, who was holding her bag on her lap. Could she have written the note and pretended Thomas had done it? Jake couldn’t think of a good reason for her to lie. Either way, the situation made him uneasy. If she had sensed the author of the note simply through touch then her sixth sense was real, and he wasn’t comfortable with someone who might take a peek into his past.
Kendall perked up as they approached a quaint town with cobblestone streets and tiny shops. “This town is charming.”
“Glad you approve. This is home for the next several hours. There’s an inn up ahead.”
“Did Fergus make reservations?”
“No. I called while you were packing. But Fergus gave me a list of places to stay.” The ever-resourceful Fergus. “How long has he been with Nathan?” Jake sometimes wondered if Nathan could take a piss without the man.
“For as long as I’ve known him.”
“How long’s that?”
“I started working for him a few months ago.”
About the same time Jake did. Watching Nathan and Kendall together, he had assumed they’d known each other longer.
“You sleeping with him?”
Now why the hell did he say that?
Her green eyes widened and then narrowed, the glare sharp as a cactus. “No, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I was just making sure you were alert,” he lied, and then checked to see that she wasn’t touching anything that belonged to him, just in case her gift was legit. Her hand was resting on the seat. The car was rent
ed in his name—his alias. Did that count? “How did you meet him?”
“I was working at the Smithsonian. Nathan had lent us a collection. When he came to pick the pieces up, one of them was missing.”
“Let me guess. You did your bloodhound thing and found it?”
“Yes.” She didn’t roll her eyes or glare at him. Maybe she was starting to relax. “It had gotten mixed in with another collection. He was impressed and offered me a job.”
Jake barked out a laugh. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that you look like a swimsuit model.” Better than a swimsuit model. They usually didn’t have enough to fill a bikini.
“It wasn’t like that. We just connected. I guess we have a lot in common. I wasn’t looking to change jobs, but his offer was too good to refuse. I needed the extra money for my aunt Edna. She was about to lose her antique shop.”
So there was a heart of gold hidden inside that sexy exterior. “Did Nathan know about your abilities then?”
“I don’t know how he could have. It’s not something I advertise.”
Smart. It wouldn’t be wise to draw attention to a gift like that. There were lots of unscrupulous people who would do anything to get their hands on someone with her ability. It was probably a good thing Nathan had hired her. He had the means to protect her. Just like he protected himself. He was harder to get to than Fort Knox. Digging up his history wasn’t any easier. He was the damned poster child for reclusive billionaires. “How much do you know about Nathan’s past?”
“Not much. He likes his privacy. I can’t say that I blame him.”
If he had all those billions to worry about, maybe he’d be the same. Come to think of it, he was the same, just without the money. “You don’t seem starstruck around him like most women. They fall over themselves to get near him.”
She gave a delicate shrug. “He’s my boss. That’s all.”
That wasn’t all. She might believe it, but he didn’t. “You haven’t read him?”
“Of course not. I don’t pry.”
Then what was she doing going through his pack? She hadn’t taken anything, but he didn’t like that she’d looked. Well, fair was fair. He’d checked hers out too. “Maybe you should. Someone’s after him. His network has been attacked twice in the past few weeks.” Whatever Nathan was hiding, Jake wasn’t the only one who was interested.
“I wish I could help him, but I can’t control how my gift works.”
“Do you know where he grew up? He sounds British. Not as stuffy as Fergus, but the accent is there.”
“I know. He sounds like Jason Statham.”
Jake frowned. “The actor? Is that a good thing?”
She smiled. “It’s definitely not bad.”
Jake grunted under his breath. So she liked British accents. Hell, he wasn’t British, but he had more hair.
“I think Nathan spent part of his childhood in England and Scotland with Fergus. Nathan has never mentioned his father or mother. I think something unpleasant happened in his past.”
Jake knew about unpleasant pasts. He’d tried forgetting his, but it had a way of coming back.
“This is nice,” Kendall said when he pulled up to the inn.
Nice wasn’t important. Safety was. The inn sat off the main street, backed up to a hill. It had a clear view of the town, which was small, but drew enough tourists that they could blend in. The long lane that led to the inn would allow him to see anyone approaching, and the trellis on the side would make for a quick exit if needed. The downside was that it could also be used to get in. “This town draws a lot of tourists. That’s what we’re doing, Kara Monroe, being tourists.”
“Are these aliases really necessary?”
“Thomas or someone found out we were at the hotel. We don’t want him to find us here.”
“I don’t think we have to worry about it with the way you drove,” Kendall said.
“Just trying to keep you safe.” Jake slapped a fist against his heart. “I vow to protect you with my life.”
He expected Kendall to smirk or roll her eyes, but she just looked at him, those green eyes steady on his, and a thrill of something ran through him.
While she gathered her backpack, he opened the door and went around to the trunk, continuing to survey the outside for security problems. There were a few vehicles parked out front. He would have to check out the other guests. Tourists probably. When he made the reservation, the innkeeper said a small tour group was staying there.
Jake threw his pack over his shoulder and gathered their duffel bags. This time Kendall didn’t beat him to the task, though she did take her bag from him before they approached the door. The doorbell jingled as they stepped inside. The lobby was friendly, yellow walls with pictures of smiling men and women. He could never figure out exactly what the people in Italian paintings were doing. Frolicking, he guessed, whatever that was. He wasn’t sure, but he had a pretty good idea what it would lead to.
The man behind the desk appeared to be even friendlier than the walls. “You must be Jason Sutter and Kara Monroe. Welcome to Italy. I am Roberto.”
Roberto was in his early thirties, immaculately dressed, and looked like he’d just gotten a manicure. And Jake suspected he was wearing eyeliner. After his welcome, the innkeeper’s attention remained focused on Jake.
Kendall pressed her lips together and Jake knew she was hiding a grin.
“What brings you to our little inn?” Roberto asked, looking Jake over head to toe.
Jake threw an arm around Kendall’s shoulders and yanked her close. “We’re honeymooning.”
Kendall gave a strangled gasp and Jake tightened his hold, pulling her closer. Damn, she smelled good.
“Honeymooning? You’re married. But your names...”
“She kept her maiden name,” Jake said.
“Then I must change your room. I assumed you were just...friends.”
“Room?” Kendall asked, her eyes doing that cactus thing again. She shot Jake a glare when Roberto turned his back. She could patent the damn things.
“Our honeymooners always get the special room,” he said, sitting down in front of his computer. “I will switch with another guest.”
Kendall had managed to pull away from Jake, which was fine with him. Her perfume was gnawing through his skin like a damned piranha.
“Won’t the other guest mind?” she asked.
“She hasn’t arrived yet,” Roberto said. “I only gave her the room because someone canceled and it was our last.” With a wink, he added, “It will be our little secret.” He turned to his computer and started muttering to himself.
“Heaven’s sakes, Gilbert, I know I put them in here.” The voice was loud, with a twang that could only come from the American South. A woman entered the room. She was well into middle age, her strawberry blonde hair teased so high it looked like a wad of cotton candy stuck on her head. Her dress was a big floral thing that made her look like a hockey player in drag. She was digging in a tiny little purse while a skinny man trailed behind her. “Oh,” she said catching sight of Kendall and Jake. “More guests. Are you here for the tour?”
“This is Jason and Kara from America,” Roberto said. “They’re honeymooning.”
“Honeymooners,” the woman crooned. “Remember when we were honeymooners, Gilbert?”
Her husband nodded, but his expression didn’t indicate whether it was a good memory.
“Oh, we’re Gilbert and Loretta Jenkins,” the woman said. “From Georgia. We’re tourists.” She said the word with the same satisfaction one would expect from a person announcing that she was a movie star. “This is our first trip to Italy. Granddaddy passed away and left me some money, so I said to Gilbert, ‘Gilbert, let’s go to Italy.’ And Gilbert says, ‘I reckon we could.’ So we’ve been touring Italy for two weeks now. Oh, there they are.” She pulled out a bottle of Tums. “I’ve developed acid reflux. I guess it’s all this Italian food.”
“There,” Roberto exclai
med. “I have fixed the problem. I think you will enjoy this room much more. It is very romantic.” He grinned, and Jake wondered if Roberto was imagining what would happen behind closed doors. He would be disappointed at the lack of action. Jake would definitely be.
“Let me give you a quick tour of the downstairs,” Roberto said.
Of course, loud Loretta tagged along, giving her opinion on everything. The inn was more Jake’s speed than the fancy hotel. It had wide plank floors and clean walls, except for those frolicking paintings. He studied the people they passed—all old as far as he could see—while Kendall and Loretta commented on the furnishings and décor. Some of the guests were still lounging over lunch, the heaviest meal served.
“Have you eaten?” Roberto asked.
“We grabbed something on the way,” Jake said.
Roberto nodded. “I’m sure you’re anxious to get settled. Most of the shops are still closed. They will reopen later in the afternoon. Dinner is at eight. Some of our guests eat in town, but for those who stay in we have a variety of food choices. There should be several of the tour group dining in before the tour this evening. I warn you, it gets a little noisy.” He tapped his ears. “Some of the older guests are hard of hearing.”
“Me and Gilbert are gonna grab a quick snack in a few minutes,” Loretta called. “Why don’t you join us?”
“We’ll probably be occupied,” Jake said, pulling Kendall close.
Roberto led them to a room on the second floor. It was a corner room, with one window facing the front and the other near the trellis on the side of the inn. As soon as the door closed, Kendall turned to Jake.
“Why did you tell them we were honeymooning?” she hissed. “Of all the stupid things to say.”
Guardians of Stone (The Relic Seekers) Page 4
