The quaint harbor sparkled like blue diamonds with its small fishing boats filling the marina.
Jake suddenly felt as alive as the festival itself, which was in stark contrast to his mood half an hour ago. Music soothed him. He let it wash over him, mingling with the smell of freshly baked breads, pizza and limoncello.
Like a magnet drawn to metal he moved through the crowd with agility, letting the pull guide him. His six foot tall frame towered over much of the crowd, enabling him to scope the entire square down to the wall that sheltered the small marina.
Men, women, and children haggled at the market stalls noisily, waving their arms and raising their voices to be heard above the already raucous din.
“Come on, baby. Find me.” It was hard to focus on any one thing with all the activity.
He closed his eyes, trying to tune in to her. Flashbacks rocketed forth at a million miles per second. Kate running into the water as he chased her, laughing and squealing, carefree and wild, pretending to push him away when he caught her, then falling into him, letting him wrap around her before they fed off each other hungrily. Bam! Another image. Running again. More shots. Falling to the ground. Unable to breathe. Drunken nights drowning his sorrows with low-priced booze and even cheaper women.
He struggled to pull free from the deluge of images pouring into his brain as he stood stock still, his left hand grabbing onto the stone harbor wall for support. He stifled a cough as his throat constricted. Feelings of dread and fear hovered way too long. Kate again. Basking in the glow that was Kate. Her allure tantalizing him to the point of insanity. She didn’t even have to be in the same room to affect him. His mind wandered again.
“Do you feel that, baby?” They were in the back of a cab in Rome, not touching but sitting close.
“Jake! I feel you. I always feel you. I crave you so much right now.”
The entire day had been spent fighting off the urge to strip each other naked and go at it like rabbits beside the Trevi Fountain. Even to touch had been painful. A burn so intense, they’d chosen not to even hold hands until they’d arrived back home where they could douse the flames with an erotic marathon that lasted for hours.
That same intense sensation hovered in the air now, pulling him. Tempting him like a forbidden fruit in an enchanted garden.
Swaying from the heat of the sun and the buzz coursing into him, he had to place two hands on the three foot high wall.
“You feel so close, Kate. Like I can almost touch you.”
He turned and walked away from the harbor, becoming absorbed into the mass of tourists.
He headed towards the Santa Margherita d’Antiochia church built in 1318 with its octagonal bell tower the focal point. The Ligurian gothic structure built by Maesti Antelami showed off an impressive 40 meter belfry, built on rock at the foot of the town.
Jake had never been religious or gone to church, but with all that had gone down lately, he was starting to wonder if he might enter the giant house of God to pray for help.
He was almost there when he stumbled. Lust powered into his loins. His heart hammered. Like an untamed Goddess, she appeared. Riveted to the spot, the crowds blurred and the noise seemed to evaporate. He felt fully charged and alert. Her name caught on his breath. Like a tiger on a hunt he crouched lower, moving with her. His eyes were locked on and focused. She was breathtaking. The last few years in that second had been erased and it was just the two of them again. Nothing else mattered. He drank in her beauty as she moved with confidence and grace. The creamy texture of her flawless skin covered an amazing body that sparkled like jewels. That body! His eyes followed the curves of her breasts and lingered a moment too long before returning to her face. Even side on, she took his breath away. This was his Kate. The one he’d vowed to love always. The one who’d cemented her love for all of eternity by pricking a finger and joining their blood.
She was standing looking through some tourist wares at a stall near the church’s entrance.
His head swam. Her energy seared a path to his heart and burned him to the core. A gentle moan escaped him. He longed to caress those dynamic curves and have her scream out his name. Everything else surrounding them vanished. The harbor. The chaos.
Seemingly feeling something, her head turned and he could have sworn she looked right at him, searching him out. A distant look in her eyes.
Her sudden reaction pained him, yet didn’t surprise him.
Chapter Six
Intense and undeniable. Kate’s nipples stood erect and her eyes began to close as a wave of pleasure rippled through her breasts, searing down to her groin. Heat raced through her cheeks, causing them to burn. A familiar feeling returned with a vengeance. She looked down to check she’d put on a bra that morning, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed.
In an instant she knew that Jake was close.
“No! Go away! Leave me alone. You don’t belong here anymore. We’re done.”
Even as she felt an incredible pull into the crowd, she fought with everything she had, dropped the artifact she was holding, and ran. Instinct. It was all she could do. A horde of eyes watched, curious and confused. It didn’t matter. Kate couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Anguish drove the tears from her eyes, forcing her to wipe them as she ran. The destination wasn’t important as she took on the steep incline away from the market square like a seasoned athlete. Vernazza had always been a haven, a place that had soothed and enveloped her since Jake’s departure. Even though they’d once shared its beauty together, she still thought of it as her town. Home. Jake’s presence violated that feeling of ownership.
“What does he want? Why has he come back after all this time? I’m not crazy. I’m not! He’s here. I feel him everywhere. Beside me. Inside me. It’s insane. It’s sensational! These feelings that take me to another dimension, like I’m out of my body.”
Just how she would react to seeing his face again would remain to be seen. Those icy, emotive eyes with thick, dark lashes any woman, young or old, would die for. A chiseled nose gracing high cheekbones and full, upturned lips. Those lips that could be feathery soft when needed or harsh and demanding with lust. His very presence made Kate swoon with uncontrollable yearnings that drove the fear deeper into her soul and made her run faster.
Stumbling on the uneven, archaic, cobbled stones and steep steps, her sandals were fast becoming a hindrance, holding her back. Stopping for a moment to catch her breath, she took them off and increased the pace, fueled by adrenalin, looking behind to make sure he wasn’t following.
The greater the distance put between herself and the festival crowds, the less constricted her throat became as she wove her way through the endless maze of backstreets. She sensed she hadn’t been followed with each step away from the revelers. She could breathe again.
Now on the northern end of Vernazza, Kate was quite a distance from her villa. It would have made more sense to head for home and lock herself inside but she hadn’t been thinking straight. Panic had overwhelmed her. She’d just needed to escape.
Slowing to let her heart recover, she found some concrete steps that intercepted two neglected, deteriorating terrace houses. Beyond, the Ligurian Sea twinkled enticingly. Only that morning Kate had been feeling on top of the world, happy with the wonderful life she had so furiously fought to create. Even with her episode a week ago and fainting yesterday morning, the dawning of festival day had washed away any fears for her health and renewed a sense of gratitude for the wondrous place she called home. Now, that very serene haven tucked away from the modern world felt like it was closing in on her. Suffocating her.
For a minute she sat and slid into her sandals, catching her breath and letting her heart recoup before descending the broken steps. A gull squawked as it tore past, its voice lost to the edgy breeze causing Kate to jump.
Creating a buffer zone from the sheer drop lay a stony, dirt landing no more than seven feet wide that ominously fell away at the edge.
There was no denying
the breathtaking view, the entire town of Vernazza shyly hidden from view. Sky and sea merged together effortlessly in a haze of perfectly blended blue. Faint singing from below broke the quiescence. The corridor behind caused the wind to hauntingly howl an unearthly tune. “Come to me, Kate. I need you now more than ever.”
She gasped. Hesitantly turning, she half expected Jake to be standing smiling in the narrow corridor but everywhere was deserted. The whole town was down at the festival having a wonderful time, which is where she should have been, instead of nervously hiding out on the fringe of town, standing unnervingly close to the edge, hiding from what? Whom?
Without even knowing it, she’d been taking steps back towards the edge of the landing. Putting her left foot forward as she turned, the loose gravel gave way, sending her flailing over the rim.
***
Kate screamed as she felt the safety of solid ground slip from under her. No longer was she standing on the edge of the small stony landing. She was now falling at an alarming rate, bumping against the rocky face of the cliff she’d tripped over.
Instinctively Kate’s hands groped for any shred of stability as the pretty cotton dress tore on the sharp rocks, slicing her skin to the bone like shards of glass. Tufts of dry grass that had been anchored to the rocky terrain for centuries broke free, tumbling with her towards certain death. As she fell, her life started to flash before her eyes. Hundreds of flashbacks flickered like a sped up movie, good and bad. Mistakes. Regrets. Achievements. Things yet to experience. Kate’s family. Her beautiful parents who she hadn’t spent nearly enough time with. Children she’d never have. A church whose aisle she’d never walk down. All of it lost to this. All of it lost because of one person. One person who she hoped rotted in hell.
As she fell, the gusts of wind blew through her long, brown hair, picking it up like an inside-out umbrella. She dropped her head to see blood on her pretty dress, the cuts and scrapes opening wider each time her body bounced off the unforgiving wall. Suddenly the dress tore free, leaving her in her underwear. Her sandals worked their way off her feet, freefalling at their own speed along with her handbag.
Bones cracked, her limbs hanging weakly, no more able to try and grab onto anything that might stop her falling further.
White spume lashed up against the pinnacled rocks, licking her heels, teasing her, until with an almighty thud that sapped any residual consciousness, her body came to a sudden, sharp stop on a dangerously thin ledge, halfway down the precipice.
Chapter Seven
When Carlos Santini pulled into the parking lot of Porto Mirabello at 8 a.m. sharp as promised, he switched into criminal mode, lighting up a cigarette and checking his handgun.
The marina was abnormally quiet, devoid of the usual plethora of activity . Had the Lord pulled some strings to eradicate any hiccups? Most likely. He had unlimited connections and could literally do anything.
Glancing down at his watch, he was already five minutes late.
“Shit. Shit.”
They’d have his nuts on a platter if he didn’t up the pace a bit. Just the thought of it had him tensely adjusting his crotch.
Following the numbered posts at each pier he soon found number 10, stubbing out his cigarette butt with his freshly-polished Armani shoes. One of the many perks. Fine designer suits. Fancy cars. Travel. Most well deserving, money-hungry battlers would kill to be in Carlos’ position. He knew he had it made. Hell, it was easy work, too. Move goods from one location to another. It wasn’t rocket-science. Who else got paid tens of thousands of dollars for a couple of days’ work? Nope, he had it good, all right.
Gemma sat before him, imposingly flaunting her beauty and grandeur as the calm water gently slapped at her hull. Italian for “Jewel,” her name was every bit as dazzling as her appearance. The Ferretti 840 with her sleek fly bridge atop three levels of indulgent luxury overtly screamed dirty money.
Adriano gave Carlos a nod before tapping his watch in a ‘you’re late’ fashion.
A tall, distinguished, pale-skinned man standing beside Adriano eyed Carlos tentatively before stepping forward as if to block Carlos from proceeding further.
“It’s okay, Philippe. Carlos is with us. He’s safe.”
Still doubtful but taking Adriano’s word on good faith, he moved aside. Carlos moved in to shake hands with Adriano.
“You’re late!”
Surprise. Surprise. Carlos’ face remained expressionless.
Adriano had “Organization” written all over him. If anyone looked like they belonged in this line of work it was he. Short and stocky with an oversized nose and shifty eyes, he reminded Carlos of a bulldog dressed in an expensive suit with a head too big for his body. Like many of the leaders of the game, Adriano had lived a good portion of his life on the shady side of the law, never having done an honest day’s work. He simply didn’t know any different. He fitted into the family perfectly. The quintessence of Italian crime. He had no wife or children and no commitments other than his job that had enabled him to move through the ranks diligently and with one purpose only: to take over the reins one day. Nothing else mattered.
“Traffic!” lied Carlos, hoping Adriano didn’t notice his eye twitch.
“We need to get our sorry asses on board pronto so we can get this shit out of here.” The shit he was referring to was the cargo that had to be delivered to Monaco. This was by far the biggest shipment he’d had to escort and it was going to pay massive dividends.
Without further small talk the three important looking men boarded Gemma.
Carlos stopped for a second, eyebrows raised, taking in the luxurious interior with walls entirely paneled in boiserie and the feature wood expertly crafted from teak. Oversized cream Italian leather lounge chairs embedded into the timber beckoned them to sit as they ventured further into the enormous living area. Off to the right sat a large bar stocked with every alcoholic beverage known to man. All the bottles looked unopened, as if each one had been purchased recently just for this trip.
Within seconds Adriano poured them a dry martini, motioning for them to sit in one of the softly cushioned chairs.
“Here you go, gentlemen,” he offered, handing Carlos and Philippe their drinks before loosening his tie and removing his black suit jacket.
“The Lord has been telling me fine things about you both. He tells me you’re two of his best men. The Lord doesn’t normally regard anyone so highly, so it seems I’m sitting in esteemed company.” Carlos detected a hint of mockery in Adriano’s tone as he let the words sink in. On one hand it was nice to be valued by his employer but on the other hand, knowing who his employer was drove home the stark reality that the only one to ever have praised him thus far, besides Kate, was not his own father but the most powerful and deadly leader of The Organization. He washed the regret away with a swig of martini, gritting his teeth as it burned on the way down.
“In fact,” added Adriano, “he values your dedication so much that on our return voyage we’re doing a little detour.” He glared straight at Carlos. “Philippe will sadly be departing our company at Monaco, so it will be just you and I, Carlos.”
“What sort of detour? I don’t know anything about a detour. Stavros didn’t mention this yesterday. What is this about?” Carlos asked, intrigued.
Adriano replied after swallowing his martini, “The Lord has a little job for you to do on our way home.”
“Job?” Carlos twisted in his seat so he faced Adriano.
“You’ll find out all the details tomorrow. The Lord has hand-picked you for this assignment so you should feel quite privileged, Carlos. Now if you gentlemen don’t mind, I’ve got important business to take care of. Relax. Make yourselves at home and enjoy the ride.” Adriano skulled the rest of his martini, picked up his suit jacket, and bid them all a temporary farewell with a two-fingered salute from his temple. Carlos sat with a ‘what the fuck?’ look on his face.
Chapter Eight
When Kate stirred hours later she found h
erself curled, semi-naked, on top of her bed in the fetal position, shivering. For a brief second the familiar surroundings seemed foreign as she sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Stunned, it became apparent she was home.
Scanning the room, she tried to piece together why she was naked apart from her bra and panties and how she got back to her villa from the festival. Her memory was hazy.
“Carlos?” The name echoed off the walls.
Remembering he was out of town, that explanation didn’t bear any weight. The silence was deafening.
Amongst the blackness, snatches of memory seeped through. Walking past Mr. Matioli’s café. The beautiful vase she’d been admiring. Running.
“What else? What else? Think, Kate! Think! Ugh.”
It was futile. Nothing. The fog was too thick. Something was very wrong, though. The clock in the bedroom read 5.07 p.m.
“What? Where have I been for most of the day? How did I get back to my apartment? Why can’t I remember?”
Afraid that she may have been knocked over the head, assaulted, and robbed, she rose like a zombie and walked to the wardrobe to inspect the damage. Carefully opening it, half expecting to see it stripped bare, she breathed a sigh of relief when all her clothing and accessories sat as they had earlier in the morning when she’d rummaged through looking for a dress to wear to the festival.
Still, something was off. Nothing felt right. Memories and time were lost. She was semi-naked! What was with that? Where were her clothes and handbag from that morning?
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