Light Me Up

by McKenna, Shannon

  “…just started about an hour ago, but it’s getting worse. I’m afraid I’m in for it tonight,” Konig was saying. “I’m so sorry, Gianfranco. The timing couldn’t be worse.”

  Folti looked appalled. “That’s terrible, Frederick! After all your work, all your support—are you sure you could not manage to attend somehow? Perhaps if you took something?”

  “I just can’t risk it,” Konig’s voice was scratchy and colorless. “It’s…very bad.”

  Now that they were closer, he saw the clammy sheen of sweat on Konig’s shiny bald head. The grayish tinge to his skin. The man was sick.

  Noah wanted to AVP scan Konig so badly, it hurt. His hand slid into his pocket for his phone, finger hovering over the app that canceled out the shield protection on his contact lenses. Just for a brief second—

  The bald man’s attention snapped onto them, like a magnet coupling. His beady dark eyes swept them up and down. The assessment felt distinctly unfriendly.

  So much for a quickie AVP analysis. This man would notice if Noah’s eye color suddenly shifted from black to luminous amber. Shit.

  “Who are these two?” Konig asked the other man in an undertone. “I don’t remember them from the guest list.”

  Folti’s distracted gaze flicked over to them, uncomprehending, and the security guard who was escorting them spoke up. “Signor Folti, Signor Konig, these are Signor Morelli’s guests,” he explained. “Signora Caroline Bishop, and Signor Noah Gallagher. I was just taking them in to see Signor Morelli now.”

  Folti made a shooing gesture with his hand. “Yes, yes,” he said fretfully. “Take them in to Stefano, by all means. Go, go.”

  Noah and Caro walked past the two men and followed the security guard into an adjoining room. Noah felt the bald man’s eyes follow them as they went.

  Once inside the room, the guard muttered in Italian under his breath and listened to the response. Moments later a tall, dark-haired man entered the room from a side door.

  “Vice Direttore, this is Mr. Gallagher and Ms. Bishop,” the guard announced.

  “Thank you, Carlo,” Morelli said. “That will be all.”

  The guard departed. Noah and Morelli looked each other over as Morelli approached them, hand extended. Stefano Morelli was older than his online photos, but not by much. His military records revealed that he’d been in an elite branch of the Italian military before becoming an agent of the AISE. He was a black-haired, ruggedly handsome guy in his thirties. Dark eyes that didn’t miss much. Firm handshake.

  Noah regretted opting for the contacts. Shield glasses were good because he could peer discreetly over them while unobserved and use his AVP at will. Shield glasses were bad because they made him look like he had something to hide.

  Inconspicuous. That was the plan. Or it had been until Caro found that dress.

  But even through shield contact lenses, he got a strong sense of Morelli. Smart, tough, guarded. When Morelli’s gaze shifted to Caro, it stuck to her like it was glued.

  “Mr. Gallagher,” he said. “Asa Stone told me about you. That you are his friend from years back.” His voice deepened as he addressed Caro. “He also spoke of your lovely companion.”

  “Wife,” Noah said pointedly. “She’s my wife.”

  “Yes, of course. Lucky man.” Morelli took Caro’s hand, bowing over it almost as if he were going to kiss it.

  The hairs rose on the back of Noah’s neck.

  Caro tugged her hand back. Morelli released it, in just that calibrated nanosecond before Noah would have been compelled to rip the man’s arm out of its socket.

  “Forgive me insisting you come early,” Morelli said smoothly, as if the brief clash of male force fields had not just taken place. “I trust Asa, but I had to be sure you were the people in the files he emailed.”

  “So?” Noah asked. “Do we correspond?”

  “Of course. But the pictures of Ms. Bishop do not do her justice.” He gave Caro a charming smile. “Your recent adventures make for exciting reading, Signora.”

  “Agreed,” Caro agreed ruefully. “It was terrifying to live through. I’m glad it’s behind me.”

  “I do not blame you,” Morelli said. “In my experience, people who have wild adventures tend to attract other wild adventures to themselves, no?”

  “I certainly hope not.” Her voice was emphatic. “I’m all done with life or death drama.”

  “That was a fluke,” Noah told him. “We’re extremely boring now.”

  Morelli made a low, skeptical sound in his throat as he gazed at Caro’s lips.

  “I was unlucky,” Caro told him. “I got targeted by a sociopathic stalker. I barely escaped with my life. Noah and his friends helped me. That was how we met.”

  “Yes, Asa mentioned something about that,” Morelli said. “What an incredible story.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Do you need anything more from us now?” Noah’s voice was getting colder by the minute, and there was fuck-all he could do about it.

  Forcibly reminded that Noah existed, Morelli blinked. “Ah, yes. One more thing. I must introduce you to Captain Lella, Signor Folti’s head of security. He must sign off personally on any last minute additions to the guest list.”

  “Lead the way,” Noah said.

  They followed him through still another tangled maze of interconnected rooms, until Morelli stopped in front of a door and knocked.

  “Come in,” a thick, gravelly voice replied from behind the door.

  Inside, a broad, stocky man sat at a desk heaped with paperwork, scowling into a laptop.

  He turned to look at them as they filed in. Noah barely heard Caro’s swift, indrawn breath, but only because of his augmented hearing.

  Captain Lella’s features were warped and distorted by brutal scarring. He was missing an ear and an eye, and half of his face looked almost melted. Scars extended over one entire side of his skull, which was also crisscrossed with surgical scars. Relatively new ones, by Noah’s assessment.

  Noah’s body tensed, and his battle program surged as if Lella was leaping up to attack them. But he wasn’t. The man just sat there, his remaining eye studying first him and then Caro. His gaze lingered on her. The eye was fiercely bright, though bloodshot.

  Caro advanced, her hand extended, but Lella flinched slightly. His mouth tightened, making the scar tissue pull one side up into a snarl.

  Caro stopped short, her hand falling to her side.

  So. A handshake was clearly not happening with this man.

  “Who are these people?” Lella barked. His speech was slightly distorted by his damaged lips.

  “Captain Lella, this is Mr. Noah Gallagher and Ms. Caro Bishop,” Morelli said. “They are the friends of Asa Stone. The last minute additions to the guest list that I mentioned yesterday evening.”

  “Ah. Yes. And Stone vouched for them? You checked their credentials?”

  “Yes, of course,” Morelli assured him. “Everything is fine.”

  Once again, Noah fought to control the urge to push Caro to the ground, out of the line of fire. What the fuck…? He didn’t understand his own reaction to the man.

  Lella studied Noah for a moment, then turned back to his laptop, waving them away with a weary gesture. “Fine,” he growled. “I authorize them. Go.”

  Noah kept Caro close to him as they followed Morelli out of the room.

  There was something off about the strained glitter in Lella’s functioning eye. Then again, he’d been through whatever hell had caused those terrible injuries. Prolonged, unimaginable pain. Probably PTSD. He had the vibe of a person under incredible, relentless stress.

  People pushed to the breaking point were dangerous.

  “You served under Captain Lella, right?” Noah asked Morelli as they walked. “Battaglione di San Marco?”

  Morelli’s eyebrows
shot up. He hesitated. “I did,” he admitted. “Years ago. You are very well informed, Mr. Gallagher.”

  “Did he get those injuries in the field?”

  “Yes. He was captured five years ago by VIRIS, a splinter group of terrorist extremists. They held him for months in Northern Africa. They filmed his torture. Posted the videos online.”

  “That’s hideous.” Caro’s mouth was tight. He knew that she was seeing Lella’s agony, visualized in vivid and excruciating detail. There was no safety filter on that particular function in her mind. Naked empathy to the utmost, no matter the cost.

  “He was rescued, but he had suffered terribly,” Morelli went on. “His military career was over, but after his recovery, Signor Folti invited him to be his head of security.”

  “I see,” Noah murmured.

  Morelli was silent for a moment, his mouth grim. “Captain Lella was the best commanding officer a soldier could have,” he said. “Folti is fortunate to have him.”

  Noah nodded. Morelli’s respect for his captain was sincere, he’d give the man that much, but it was time for a change of subject. “How is it that an agent of the AISE is involved with security for a private event like this?” he asked.

  Morelli seemed surprised at the question. “Captain Lella requested my help as a personal favor,” he replied. “I was honored to be asked. There are several high profile international figures in politics and business on the guest list, so the security issues are complex. I was glad to help.”

  “I imagine so,” Noah said. “How do you know Asa?”

  Morelli’s smile remained unreadable. “So many questions! I met Asa years ago, when I was still in the military. Our paths crossed in Africa.”

  “Just…crossed?” Noah waited. There had to be more. Because Asa.

  A shadow went over Morelli’s face. “He saved my life,” he admitted. “And my men’s lives, all of them. Single-handedly, and at great risk to himself. I owe him a debt I can never repay.” His smile returned to full wattage. “Which is why you are here tonight.”

  “Right,” Noah said.

  “So.” Morelli’s voice turned brisk. “We are good, now that Lella has authorized you. You are free to explore the grounds, but please do not go to the east wing until the ceremony is about to begin, as the staff is busy there with last minute preparations. You have seats at my table at dinner, and an excellent orchestra will play for us, so if the Signora Gallagher would be so kind as to promise me a dance—”

  “No,” Noah said.

  Morelli blinked innocently. “Mi scusi?”

  “We’re on our honeymoon.” Noah showed teeth. “Her dances are all mine.”

  Forevermore, you flirtatious fuckhead.

  “Ah. Of course.” Morelli looked like he was trying not to smile. “Then I will see you in the Sala dell’Annunziata at seven-thirty. I suggest a stroll through the garden in the meantime. The flowers, the reflecting pool…very beautiful.” He gave Noah a sideways look. “I am sure a romantic gentleman like yourself will enjoy it. Especially in such pleasant company.”

  Noah gave him a big, toothy smile. Morelli was fucking with him, the bastard.

  * * * *

  Gianfranco continued his anxious yapping as Konig’s eyes followed the mystery couple out of the busy room that functioned as the security hub. The door clicked shut behind them, and Konig forced his gaze back to his ex-business partner as he ran a handkerchief over his own sweating forehead.

  “Gianfranco, I am so sorry,” he repeated, making his voice weak and reedy. “It must have been those oysters at lunch. You know I’ve been looking forward to this moment ever since the Orazio excavation began. It’s such a triumph for you. And I had a very entertaining speech planned. You would have loved it. I simply can’t tell you—”

  “Say no more, please. Just try to get better.” Gianfranco Folti patted his shoulder, eyes full of concern. “I’ll speak to the kitchen staff. This is a catastrophe.”

  “No need to blame anyone,” Konig assured him. “These things happen. But if you’ll excuse me, I can’t stay on my feet any longer. I’ll just go up to my room and rest.”

  “Of course. I’ll send up my own personal physician right away.”

  “No! Please, don’t. All I want is privacy. You know how these things are. There’s nothing that can be done, it just has to be endured. And …oh, God. Excuse me, please, but I have to go…right now.”

  “Of course! Go on, go on!” Gianfranco urged.

  Konig hurried through the room. Russo and Vilardi were both there. He shot them a piercing glance as he passed. Incompetent fuckheads. Two unknown attendees, unexamined, unvetted, two hours before the event? He’d only noticed their arrival by sheer, random chance. There should be no surprises this late in the game. Certainly not while he was suffering the nasty effects of that disgusting emetic drug he’d forced himself to take. He’d made sure that the first bout of vomiting was witnessed and cleaned up by the housecleaning staff. His absence from the ceremony had to be publicly accounted for by multiple witnesses. Which is why he’d timed the conversation with Gianfranco to be seen by security personnel. His ass was covered from every direction.

  He hurried down the corridor, acting like a man urgently in need of a private toilet. Slapped open a bathroom door that was in a surveillance blind spot.

  As soon as he locked himself in, he pulled his tablet from his briefcase and ran through the surveillance camera feeds. He didn’t find the mystery couple until he opened up the newest one, the feed from a secret camera that he’d recently installed in Lella’s office. He’d been monitoring Lella anxiously over the past few days. He was deteriorating fast. The command frequency had taken its toll. Not much longer, though. If the wretched creature could just stay on his feet and function for a few more hours, that was all that was required of him.

  The mercy blow was coming soon.

  Konig did not like Morelli’s last minute additions to the guest list at all. The way the man moved, studying everyone like he was snapping a picture and filing it away. The bitch in the slinky red dress was certainly fuckable, but she didn’t have her male companion’s air of lethal competence, so Konig was too tense and nauseous to be bothered with her.

  He slid in the earbuds. The audio blared in his ears. Captain Lella, this is—

  Just then, a knocking sound intruded on his attempt to listen. “Signor Konig?” someone whispered loudly outside the door.

  It was Russo. The cretin. “Shut up!” Konig hissed. “I’m listening! Wait!”

  Morelli’s voice came in loud and clear.

  …of Asa Stone. The last minute additions to the guest list that I mentioned yesterday evening.

  Ah. Yes. And Stone vouched for them? You checked their credentials?

  Yes, of course. Everything is fine.

  Fine. I authorize them. Go.

  After a few moments, the mystery couple left the room, followed by Morelli. Konig flipped through the various feeds, following the couple on their way through the palace. He disliked the man more with each new camera angle. His size, his build, the way he walked, his eyes.

  Konig yanked open the door and glowered at Russo—and surprise, surprise, Vilardi was standing right next to him. Combining their idiocy, as usual.

  “I told you not to talk to me here, you fucking idiots!” he snarled under his breath. “You don’t even know me!”

  “Yes, I know, sir,” Vilardi whispered. “But the couple who just came in—”

  “Keep your voice down!” Konig peered around the corner. “Get in here!”

  Once squeezed inside the small bathroom with Russo, Vilardi tried again. “Signor Konig, Morelli’s guests—that man looks like a—”

  “Like a cop, a spy, an operator? Yes, he does, and probably he is. So we will adjust our plan accordingly. We will be even more careful. You, Russo, and Naimo mus
t stay inside the Sala to the very end, until I tell you to go. I will monitor all of Lella’s communications, and I will let you know what to do and when it’s time to leave. Understood?”

  Russo licked his lips, his eyes flicking to the side. Konig’s instructions made him extremely uneasy. Perhaps he was not quite as stupid as Konig had thought.

  “Ah…but boss,” he faltered. “What good reason is there for us to stay in the—”

  “I need eyes, ears, and feet on the ground in that room! Remember how many fucking zeroes are on the sum that’ll show up in your bank accounts tomorrow. I’ll leave this room first. You two get out after, at intervals, and take different routes back to the security room. I need everything you can find on those two people. Fast. Never speak to me directly again.”

  The two men muttered their assent, looking properly cowed, so Konig stepped out of the bathroom and half-walked, half-ran toward Lella’s office. His speed didn’t fit his food poisoning narrative, but too bad. He had to risk it and take this final opportunity right now, while Lella was alone.

  He entered without knocking. Lella jerked around with a startled cry, his one eye practically starting out of his head. His hideously disfigured face seemed like a rubber monster mask made to frighten children.

  Lella sagged back into his chair, breathing hard. “Ah. Signor Konig. It’s you.”

  “Sorry to startle you, Captain Lella,” Konig said. “I just had a suggestion for tonight, for the ceremony. Russo, Vilardi, and Naimo should be added to the list of the security agents posted near the cross in the Sala dell’Annunziata.”

  Lella attempted to frown, as much as he could with the snarl of thickened scar tissue on his brow. “I appreciate your input, Signor Konig, but I have experienced security personnel for the key positions,” he said gruffly.

  Konig pulled out his phone and discreetly activated the command frequency.

  The effect was immediate, and dramatic. Lella froze, his one eye rolling wildly, his ruined mouth hanging open.

  Konig waited, four…five…six seconds. Lella’s body began to shake.