Again the task force cut him out, but this time he wasn’t going to sit idly by. He wouldn’t let Vadim slip away for the sake of following De Carlo’s damn orders. The Mafia thugs were in custody. The leak was plugged. Nobody would blab Sophie’s location. She was safe here.
Yeah, safe. Definitely.
Some insurance wouldn’t hurt. He would take care of it. “Sophie, I’m leaving in the morning.”
She went stiff and then twisted to peer at his face. “Didn’t you just say De Carlo assigned you to keep guarding me? Or do those words have a nuance I’m missing?”
He hadn’t meant to state it quite like that. But blunt was his style. Better to be straight with her. “You’re safe here. You can call the task force if there’s a problem.”
She placed a warm hand gently on his knee. “If you shoot Vadim, that’s murder. Don’t ruin your life for vengeance.”
He couldn’t give in. As much as he loved the feel of her hand, of her nearness, he couldn’t succumb to her softening influence. Twisting away, he rose from the cushy sofa and stepped over the cocktail table as if it were a track hurdle.
“You don’t get it, do you? Ruin my life? I have no life. Not since I watched my three-year-old son bleed out and die before I could reach him. Vengeance is the only thing I have to live for.”
“That’s no sort of life. You’re letting what happened in the past steal your entire future.”
“You’re one to talk. You’re trying to dig up the past as a guide to your future. Like the bones of your ancestors were tea leaves or something.”
She blinked, taken aback by his retort. “Tea leaves? I’m just trying to get a clue so I’m not trapped in a life chosen by circumstances instead of by me. I want independence.”
“You’re looking in the wrong place.”
Then her chin went up, her Valkyrie face, flames of determination alight in her brown eyes. “Then so are you. You’re only — what? — thirty-two?
“Thirty-five.”
“Only eight years older than me. Young. Look inside yourself. There’s so much more than hatred and grief in you. You’re honorable and protective, for starters.”
“You still don’t get it. I promised on David’s grave. On his mother’s grave.”
“And afterward?”
“After doesn’t matter.”
“You’d spend the rest of your life in a small stone cell or in a prison of your own making. Pain and hatred, not promises, are stealing your future. Do you really think David and Tonia would want you to sacrifice the rest of your life?”
He couldn’t answer. If he said more, he’d lose it. Fists clenched at his side, he stalked to the window and stared out at the gathering purple over the distant hills. Behind him Sophie jetted out a breath as if gathering herself for more battle. The woman was relentless.
“Let me tell you about vengeance,” she said.
“Italy is steeped in revenge, vengeance, whatever. I know. Your story won’t make any difference, but go ahead.” The sound of her voice might get him through the night.
Until he could go after Vadim.
A bat swooped across the sky, hunting nocturnal insects. Tomorrow he’d go hunting for a killer. He turned around.
“My great-uncle Vinnie lost a great deal of money in a business deal. When he couldn’t support his wife and daughter, Great-Aunt Rita left to live with her parents. Vinnie later learned the business deal had been a scam, some sort of confidence game. When he confronted the crook, he took a gun.”
“He shot the guy?”
“Exactly. I don’t know the details because this happened a long time ago in Florence. Somehow the case was declared self-defense and he went free. But only physically.”
“What do you mean?”
“He got some of his money back from the dead man’s estate and started over. But guilt ate at him, a nasty little monster nibbling at his soul from inside.”
When Jack realized he was rubbing his chest, he jammed both hands in his jean pockets. The image was real, too real. But he didn’t see himself in her scenario. Not the same.
“Vinnie began to drink and eventually lost everything. Rita divorced him. He never saw his child again. Not long afterward he died in a boating accident, but the family has always believed it was suicide. Guilt and grief — the added burdens of revenge — destroyed him. Great-Uncle Vinnie was my nonna’s brother.” Head tilted and eyes wary, she sat quietly on the sofa.
“I understand what you’re trying to do, but the situation’s not the same. Your relative lost his family because of revenge. I want revenge for my family. And for all those other poor bastards whose deaths he’s responsible for.”
“The children and political prisoners working in the diamond mines, you mean? Well, doesn’t that just make you the avenging angel.”
His head snapped up at her snarky tone. Real anger. An anomaly in Sophie, one he was seeing more often, for good or ill. But he’d made his decision. “Like I said, I’m leaving in the morning.”
“And you think you can find Vadim when the entire task force and the Italian polizia haven’t?”
He was about to say that he had to try, but she was right. He had no idea where Vadim was. “Is this lesson over, teacher?” he growled.
She folded her arms. “If you kill Vadim, what about the uranium? It’s dangerous even if it’s hidden. How will they find it?”
The possibilities hit him in the gut. Saqr wouldn’t get the nuke, but somebody else might. What if Jack was wrong that the task force would intercept the courier? What if other terrorists got hold of it? What if an innocent civilian found it and opened it? Or a child?
He sank into the nearest chair. “When you’re right, you’re right, Sophie. I need more information about Vadim and the uranium before I can go after him.”
She leaned back, apparently satisfied she’d convinced him to stay.
He would. For now.
Her eyelashes fluttered lower and lower. He should carry her up to bed, but questions lingered. “You were a pro in Fiorasole today. I’ll never forget the sight of you sitting on old Tomasso.”
“You can believe I’ll never forget it either.”
“You listened to their conversation a long time. They might’ve let slip something useful before Tomasso prepared to shoot us.” An involuntary shudder ripped through him at the thought of a bullet tearing into her tender flesh.
“Shoot you, not me.” She sat up, yawning.
“What?” A hunch raised the hairs on his neck.
Chapter 24
“That’s why I tried to warn you. Or maybe you understood when he put the silencer on. Tomasso said they were going to shoot you and take me with them.”
He leaped the hurdle to join her on the sofa. “Where? Where were they going to take you? To Vadim?”
She arched her back, stretching like a cat. A tired cat. “Vadim? No. Let me think.”
“Go back over the conversation. Try to remember his exact words.”
She closed her eyes as she seemed to replay the overheard dialogue on her mind’s recorder.
He could barely breathe while he waited. Too many times he’d thought he had a break, only to reach a dead end.
Her eyes flew open. “I remember something. Maybe it’s important. He said, ‘She’ll take us to it.’ ”
“It. What — the uranium?” He leaped to his feet and pulled her up to face him. He held on to her hands, letting her softness remind him not to push her too hard. “Then you do know where the uranium is.”
“Or they think I do.”
He dragged fingers through his hair. “It can’t be just their idea. Vadim has to have told them you have it. But where? Your bags were checked. The Geiger counter and the other detectors found only traces of radiation around the house, enough to indicate the uranium had been there, but not enough to locate it inside a thick lead casing. Besides, it’d be very heavy.”
But it would
n’t take up much room.
His heart hammered at his rib cage. He was a dumb fool. How could he have missed it?
“Oh my God!” Her eyes glazed to a deer-in-the-headlights stare. All color drained from her face as her fingers clamped his in a death grip.
“Sophie?”
“Heavy as a marble statuette?”
“Heavy as hell.”
“It seemed heavier than it should be.”
“You carried it in that tote all this time. His first errand boys might’ve intended to kill us with the gasoline. I bet it wasn’t until later that Vadim learned you’d taken the statuette. That explains why the other attacks didn’t escalate to explosives and incendiary devices. He gave orders not to damage the goods.”
Her mouth tightened. “Maybe it was damaged. The cracked base where the bullet struck, do you think—”
He pulled her close, wrapped her in his arms. “No, it’s all right. By this time, you — we would be feeling sick if any radiation had leaked.” By God, he hoped that was true. He’d been so focused on getting Vadim that he hadn’t paid close attention to the briefings on radiation dangers.
“You should call someone, shouldn’t you?”
The strain in her voice told him she wanted the danger removed as quickly as possible. So did he. “Yeah, De Carlo will send a Haz-Mat team — a hazardous-materials disposal team — to check for radiation and carry it away. I’m afraid you’ll have to give up Saint Elizabeth.”
“Boh, as the Italians say. None of my computer searches found her. I don’t think there is a Rinaldi saint. The figure’s some other saint. The antique dealer cheated me.”
“Or Vadim set you up. It looks like he was going to use you to transport the uranium out of the country.”
Would he have instructed Saqr to steal it from her? What would he care if she were killed in the process? A fire-breathing dragon roared up within Jack. De Carlo was right. No easy death for Vadim.
She nodded sad agreement. “What do we do now?”
Tiredness smudged violet around her beautiful eyes. Her shoulders sagged. The day’s adventure and her fierce attack on his defenses had drained her.
He breathed deeply, banking his fire. Kissing her gently, he savored her sweet-as-honey taste and her delicate scent. “I’ll call De Carlo. You go upstairs and move your stuff into another bedroom. Don’t touch the statuette.”
“I never want to see it again.” She headed for the hallway and the stairs.
Vadim had hidden the uranium in her saint. The sheer gall and coldness of the man made her head ache. She was helpless and he tricked her. Conned her. Did she buy the figure or did he give her the one thing she couldn’t resist to use her for his greedy and ruthless ends? And then she’d hoped the little icon would help her in her search for family and ancestors.
What Jack once said popped into her brain. Ancestral tea leaves? Was that what she was doing?
She trudged from the stairwell down the hall to the master bedroom. Her heart ached as if a big hand had reached inside and wrung it like a dish towel. Had she wasted time looking for relatives in Florence and Rome? If she found any, what did that prove? Look inside yourself. Her advice to Jack applied to herself, as well. She had some thinking to do.
In the bedroom she avoided glancing toward Santa Elisabetta and made a beeline to her luggage. She kicked the twenty-four-incher. Not her luggage. The Versace suitcases were bought for her by Sebastian Vadim. Like the designer boutique clothing.
Like the marble saint stuffed with uranium.
She slammed the suitcase onto the bed and gathered garments from the armoire and tossed them in. At the first opportunity she’d give it all to Catholic Social Services. Among her toiletries in the bureau she found the business card that had accompanied the statuette. Tears pricked her eyes. Her hand curled into a fist, crumpling the card. She spun on her heels and glared at the little saint.
Light from the table lamp reflected on the marble and seemed to make it glow. Radiation? No, just a reflection. But then she saw … she saw…
Everything.
She’d been existing deep beneath the sea, remembered sounds muted, images blurred. She burst to the surface. The clarity hit her in a glaring ray.
Images scrolled through her mind, not distant mirages but full scenes. Echoes like the flutter of bird wings dialed to full volume. Memories darted, hammered her from all sides. Her limbs drained of strength. She clutched at the edge of the bed.
She remembered.
In the office. The statuette. The phone call.
Running.
Terror.
The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Her brain spun so fast that her legs buckled and she fell to her knees sobbing.
***
Jack ended his call. De Carlo had said rounding up a Haz-Mat team would take time. They could arrive anytime between midnight and dawn. Hours to wait.
Was Sophie all right? After the uranium eureka moment, she’d left the room dragging like a kicked kitten. He went to the foot of the stairs and listened. From the bedroom he heard slamming. Drawers. A door. The armoire. She was mad. Good. About time.
That emotion he could handle.
His stomach announced the late hour, so he wandered into the kitchen to see what he could rustle up for supper. Sophie’d been a cooking fool the past few days. There must be plenty of leftovers.
From the fridge he rooted out containers of ravioli, sautéed vegetables and thin slices of rolled-up prosciutto. A bottle of wine was all he needed to top off the meal. He peered in the plastic containers, shrugged and dumped everything into one saucepan. Why not? They’d all go into the mouth together.
He’d just turned the gas flame to low under the pan when a loud thump from upstairs jerked his head up.
Too solid for a suitcase, and she wouldn’t touch the statuette. Would she? What the hell? He dashed for the stairs and took them three at a time. “Sophie!”
He skidded to a halt when he saw her crumpled on the throw rug beside the bed. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. He knelt and curved an arm around her shaking shoulders. “What is it?”
“Oh, Jack,” she choked out on a sob, “I remember … that day … all of it.”
Her memory had returned. He glanced at the marble saint, standing in bogus banality on its little table. The revelation must’ve triggered the memory recovery.
Murmuring soothing words, he gathered her up. She might have a steel core, but in his arms she felt as fragile as the ethereal sprite she appeared. He carried her down the hall to the smaller bedroom where he kept his stuff. He set her on the antique wrought-iron bed and handed her tissues. He stood by, not knowing what to do with his hands.
Not knowing what the hell to do, period. What should he do but wait? He never knew what to do with a crying female. Tonia had used tears to manipulate him, but Sophie’s were all too real.
She got to him down deep. Seeing her so distraught stabbed him like a hot needle. She was vulnerable and tough, impulsive yet steady. He loved her zest for life. Her loving heart challenged him like a nagging conscience. She forced him to confront issues he didn’t know he had. She made him look inward and examine his damn emotions. His chest tightened with a tenderness that unnerved him.
He cared for her. More than he’d ever thought he could care for a woman. But it had to stop at that.
In a few moments she sniffled and gave him a shaky smile. “The memories rushed back like a tornado in my head. It overwhelmed me, I guess. I’m all right now.”
“Sure you are.” Chest burning with an ache to know everything she remembered, he sat beside her on the bed.
“I want to tell you about what happened, why Vadim tried to kill me.” Her eyelids were puffy from crying, but her irises were clear and calm.
Talking about Vadim’s hit-and-run might sweep away the last of her fears. And tell him his enemy’s location. Once the Haz-Mat team verified that the figure contain
ed the uranium, nothing would stop him from going after Vadim. “I’m listening.”
Sophie leaned against him, her bare arm against his. She savored the clean scent of his sun-warmed skin, his hardness and warmth against her. His touch would strengthen her as she put the disjointed images together to tell him.
“I was to fly to Paris that day, June fifth, then take the Eurostar Chunnel train to London three days later and fly home from there. At breakfast Vadim had a present for me.”
“The saint.” Jack’s fist clenched as though he was preparing to ram it into Vadim’s face.
“Got it in one.” She smiled. Now that the storm in her brain had ended, she regained a modicum of calm. “I was thrilled and touched that he’d gone to such trouble. I took the saint upstairs and set her beside the bed while I packed.”
“Where we found her later.”
“Exactly. The saint was too valuable a gift to accept, but I couldn’t refuse her.”
“How could you refuse the family saint? He knew that.”
She nodded. “I decided I would give him something special. I was going to order a case of his favorite local vintage from the village wine shop. Mom had arranged for the new bank card, the one you found. There’s no telephone in that bedroom, so I went downstairs to use the phone in the sitting room.”
He turned, blue eyes laser-focused, trademark scowl in place, clearly anxious for what came next. “But you didn’t.”
She shook her head, tucked behind her ear loose tendrils of hair. “When reached the hallway, I heard Vadim’s voice.” Her shoulders raised in a hunched shudder. “He was plotting with … that terrorist. About me.”
“The terrorist. Ahmed Saqr?”
“That’s the name. You were right that I was the ignorant courier. I was to take the uranium as far as London. It was to go on to New York, but they didn’t say how.”
“Probably a container ship. Less chance of detection than by airplane.” He rubbed his chin. “Vadim’s scrambler allowed him the security to discuss the plan on the phone. He didn’t count on you overhearing.”
Dark Vengeance (The DARK Files Book 4) Page 19