“All the flying cars are converging here!”
The radio crackled, confirming his sentence. His voice was determinate and abrupt.
Chiara wrinkled her nose. What was that stench? Burning smell? She looked around. At the beginning, she had been afraid that it was coming from their car because of the clash. She was wrong.
“Damn it, ale!” She saw him turning around and looking forward.
“Damn! They blew up the armoured door. Here’s what was the bang!”
They had heard a roar a few moments before, but they couldn’t watch the whole scene because of all that mess. The highway was blocked; on the other side there were pile-ups, caused by the curious. You could hear the roar of the horn, shock of bodies, gunfire. The air was full with gas and panic…
A shot almost touched her hair. Chiara moaned softly. Alessandro tried and started the car again. Other people started shooting; reinforcements had arrived, but they were still in the midst of chaos, blocked in front and behind. Alessandro didn’t even know if they were safer in the car or outside.
The robbers in front of them thought to the van. This wasn’t a pretty thing.
Chiara was used to think and act quickly. At that point, she was sure that going out of the car was the best choice. She opened both the front and the rear door and curled up between them.
She watched the robbers ahead: they were busy with emptying the van. She was holding them at gunpoint.
“Ale, go out!”
He spun around, and stared at her, surprised. He carried out, following her suggestion. The gunshots kept coming on. Chiara was quick and accurate. Alessandro too was proving himself a great shooter.
The glass of window was shattered. They heard shots everywhere: they were among crossfire, between their colleagues and the commando; a shot grazed Alessandro. She saw him slip to the ground, out from her sight. She felt her chest tighten in a grip.
“Are you all right?” She leaned trying to see him. She saw him getting up and nodding briefly.
The shots were decreasing, thanks to the reinforcements and because the robbers had done with the CIT van. Indeed, the van had gone away like a bat out of hell. Alessandro saw the men back on to the car while one remained on the ground.
He sensed that they wouldn’t have hesitated to switch to ram and overwhelm them. He could see the bodies of the men from the van; one death more or less would have made no difference. He rolled across the hood of the car, throwing himself on Chiara; he moved her quickly, by weight, a few before the robbers rammed their car. They made it fly for a hundred yards away while Alessandro and Chiara were rolling sideways and avoiding to be overwhelmed by the car out of control.
Suddenly all was quiet again. Then a couple of cars set off in pursuit while other two were taking care of the arrests of the men in the van, also suspected of the service station’s robbery, who had been stranded by the flying cars.
Alessandro lifted: he was still holding Chiara in his arms. Her body was pressed against his; their noses were touching, their breaths were so close. He stood up, opened his arms and helped her to get up. Chiara shook herself from the dust and watched him; he was bleeding from the arm and was holding it against his body, trying not to move it. He had been shot there; rolling with her must have not helped at all. She approached him:
“You got hit.”
“No, it’s just a scratch.” He didn’t look at her, while replying; he was too busy looking at the scenery, the desolation, the traffic, the cars and the flashing lights.
Men from armoured van were not so lucky. Chiara watched at the white sheets. She put her hand on chest. Suddenly, the scene was developing under her eyes. She looked around, looking at the smoke, hearing the screams, smelling the blood, seeing the cars rolled up, the van tattered.
“Damn!” muttered she, turning on herself.
“Yeah!” He nodded, following her gaze. It looked like a film’s scene. He sighed: it could have been worse, at least for them.
Chapter 9
They saw Torres coming: he was breathless and upset. He shook his head, watching the scene.
“How are you, guys?” He looked at them, restless.
“Fine, boss!” replied at one voice Alessandro and Chiara. Then they looked each other. Chiara smiled.
“You don’t look good. Go to the HQ. I want a detailed report.”
Alessandro nodded. Chiara followed him. When they reached the HQ, Chiara saw a busty girl approaching fast forward them. She squinted, puzzled.
“Ale, I heard the news and I rushed to the district!”
Alessandro clenched his jaw and pretended he was not seeing the girl. He grabbed Chiara, caressing her face. Chiara flinched at his touch while the steps of the girl were becoming slower.
“Are you okay, babe?” he asked. She raised an eyebrow. He remained inscrutable: he was still holding her by her shoulders. He touched her face with one hand and looked up, gasping in surprise: “Antonella… Sorry, I didn’t…”
Chiara turned first to him, holding back a smile, then at her with, faking surprise.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to heckle you.”
The girl backed away. When she wasn’t more in her sight, Chiara turned back to Alessandro: “Did you need an alibi? Poor girl: what could have she done?”
“Forget it, detective.”
Chiara grinned.
“I think I could… but I got between and it’s all your fault, isn’t it?”
He shrugged: “Let’s go and report.”
“Don’t you want to medicate?”
“Are you volunteering?” He grinned and walked over the small clinic they used as practice for medical checks.
“It wouldn’t be a problem, you know? Chiara held his gaze without a blink.
Alessandro shook his head: “Thanks, but I’m fine.”
Chiara stared at him. She had to go to his house, somehow. She came up smiling.
“Perfect!” She touched his sleeve with hand and felt his gasp.
“You should replace that shirt, however!”
He looked the blood on his shirt. He gritted his teeth and turned to Torres; he was reaching them. He was tearing his hair out and a wild look in his eyes.
“A mess… it’s a mess! How could we let them go? How?”
He stared at them quite as he wanted someone to blame. Chiara kept quiet. She let Alessandro to reply.
“Boss, we have done anything possible. They were more prepared and faster than us”
“Yes, yes, but I… Now, what am I supposed to say to the Commissioner? To the prefect? To the mayor? Oh, Ferrari, but… are you hurt?” He opened his eyes. He had interrupted the stream of words he had overwhelmed them with.
“Nothing serious.” Alessandro held his gaze. He shrugged.
“Pilati, do you feel up to go with him to the doctor? I don’t want any problems if you stay on a sick leave.”
Chiara nodded. It was a good opportunity to find out more. She could verify everything that sounded strange.
“I don’t need to go anywhere. I go home, take care of me and come back here brand new!” He drew back a step away from her.
Chiara came out with him, in time to see the girl who had stopped them before. She saw Alessandro wince while observing her. She decided to use that opportunity: she approached and slipped her arm through his, embracing him.
“Let’s go, honey!”
He clenched his jaw. He wasn’t in the mood for complications, nor from Antonella, nor from Chiara: they were both dangerous. He made the best of a bad situation. He would have left Chiara just out of the station and finally he would have been able to go home. Chiara read anger in Alessandro’s moves. She could feel his arms vibrate and restrain. Why was he so nervous with her?
“Okay, Pilati. You can go now. Antonella won’t follow me!”
“I’m taking you home. You are still bleeding if you didn’t notice it. I wouldn’t want you to pass out. In that case, I should explain to Torres why I left you go
home without me!”
Alessandro stared at her, astonished. She went on.
“Unless you don’t want to go to the E.R.”
“For god sake! I would loose the whole afternoon. Okay, Pilati! Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a bore?”
Chiara grinned: “I was told worse, Ferrari, don’t worry!”
Under his anger, Chiara sensed something else. She felt it in his gaze, in his strained jawbone, in his breath. It was something that she didn’t want to analyse; something she was holding, as a warm feeling of expectation and preview. She felt his muscles under her own arm; she had already seen him in plain clothes. Now, with the uniform, she sensed something different: he looked like a chameleon and at the same time a panther ready to attack.
She was still convinced that he was hiding something. She already knew where he lived: a few more than half a mile from the headquarters. She couldn’t tell him, so she waited for his directions.
“Okay, I’m here, safe and sound. May I go up? Or maybe you want to come with me till the door?”
He stood in front of her, staring into her eyes.
Beyond any doubt, beyond any thinking, she was a beautiful woman; a woman with a thousand aspects, ironic, smart and cunning. Someone he would have to beware of; someone to hold off. He stared at her green eyes. The memory of her lips on his was still bright, still imprinted in his mind. She had managed to scratch his armour, to come in and make a breach in a wall that he believed impenetrable. This was supposed to make him desist from staying along her.
He stared at her with a milder look and repeated: “Do you want to come in, Chiara?”
He whispered and hoped she not to hear. In beginning, he was ironic. He didn’t want her to come in. Now, he wanted to see what she was going to say. He was almost certain that she was going to refuse.
“Alessandro,” she called him by name, as he had done before. “Look, I think I will. So, what are you going to do now? Will you offer me a coffee or show me your butterflies collection?”
He stared at her and smiled. His face had changed. Chiara was speechless: his warmth, the joy he exuded… he was handsome, different from the serious guy she was used to see. He was really a chameleon.
“Well said, Chiara, detective! Come on, but… I hate butterflies!” he said, grinning.
Chapter 10
He pointed the way to his door and opened it.
“You’re welcome!”
Chiara came in and stood for a moment on the doorway, looking at the living room; he had a white leather sofa, television, glass coffee table a wall full of pictures. From the arch that cut through the living room, she saw the kitchen and the hallway other side, the wall clean white and the large windows from which came a lot of light. She located a desk.
“Do you want a coffee?”
“Yes, thanks, but I think I’d better take care of your wounds, before!”
“I go to the bathroom to take the medicine chest. You can wait here. Make yourself comfortable!”
She raised an eyebrow and smiled.
“There was no double meaning, detective.”
She just smiled and did not reply. She walked over to the desk, as he was going to the bathroom. She took a quick look: there were several sheets on the desk, post-it and notes. Chiara grabbed the phone and took some photos. Then, she heard his steps and stared at the pictures on the wall: there were a lot of landscapes and no personal pictures.
“Nice pics.”
“My brother took them, not me. I don’t like to take pictures. Above all, I don’t have the photographer’s eye. I’m not an artist, he is indeed!”
Alessandro was behind her. She felt his body touching her. She had a strong, intense shiver; her body, refusing all logic, reacted. Why?
Alessandro wasn’t her kind of man. She had always had simple affairs with no promises. “Never with colleagues” was her main rule. The men she liked were always black haired with dark eyes. Alessandro had light brown hair and his eyes were mostly tending to light colours. And he was a cop; maybe a corrupt one.
“What about you? Any brother? Sisters?”
She turned to find him a few inches from her face:
“I have a twin. She’s a Maresciallo of Arma dei Carabinieri. We both don’t love photos”.
Her sister had always felt in the background because of her. She had fled away as far as possible and found a thousand pretexts not to go home. They had some good times in their childhood, making troubles, but Mia had always resented the pressure of their mother. Chiara didn’t want to think about it now.
“Did I hit a nerve?” He stared at her, puzzled. She shrugged.
“No, I’m fine!”
He didn’t go any further. She raised her face staring into his eyes, firmly. She licked her dry lips suddenly.
“What’s up, Ale?
He was static, as if he was hypnotized, staring at her. In that moment Chiara looked tense and thoughtful, but still beautiful. She seemed frail and strong in the meanwhile. He lowered his face, but then stopped. What was he doing? He stepped back: “So, do you want to medicate me?”
She nodded, taking action. She grabbed the gauze and watched him taking off his shirt and remaining shirtless. She swallowed, watching the brown hair on his chest, his toned muscles. She shook her head, grabbing the alcohol; he glimpsed when she put the gauze on his wound. She observed him, while continuing to treat him, but soon she quitted and said: “Look, I think it took two stitches here!” She touched his skin with no apparent reason.
He shrugged:
“Use the butterfly patch. It counts as two stitches. It’s not the first time that I get hurt!”
Chiara’s gaze lingered on his forearm on which she could see a slender scar. Then her eyes met his body.
“Do you want a map to find the marks?” He stared at her ironic. He made her shiver.
“Uh? Oh no, sorry!”
Chiara’s touch had become extraordinarily delicate while she was wondering how to make Alessandro to go leave the room, in order to search the drawers. His hand slipped on her, stopping.
“I’m okay, thank you. Let’s make a coffee!”
Alessandro got up and went into the kitchen. He seemed not to be out to put on the shirt he had rolled and throw to the ground.
She slithered behind him. When he stopped to turn around and demanded how much sugar she wanted in her coffee, Chiara slammed against him. She grabbed on his shoulders and laid still. The attraction he exercised on her was growing. She could feel it under the skin of her hands. She started a soft, intense stroke on his arms.
Then she looked up and stared at him firmly. She stood on the tips and touched his lips with hers. She touched lightly his lips. He stood motionless, while she was kissing him. She opened her lips, hooking into his and put the tip of her tongue between them. She was almost to surrender. She thought she had misunderstood his gaze and his feelings when he raised his arms, grasping her and attracting her against his body. She tilted her head when he kissed her deep making her mouth to wide open and playing with her tongue.
Chiara had thought to provoke him, to wheedle him, she had hoped to hide under the cloak of an innocent flirt and find what she was looking for… She didn’t know what she was praying for. Surely she wasn’t looking for emotional involvement. Also she didn’t expect the wave of heat that overwhelmed her when he captured his tongue. She slid her hands on the muscles of his stomach. She felt harden his abs beneath her fingers. He pushed her to the sofa’s seatback. Chiara came down with her lips on his chin and then on his throat, while he was opening her shirt, sliding it to the ground.
Chiara paused to observe his hands: they were strong, cured. She tilted her neck, while he was going down with his lips under her ear. She licked with his throat and his chest. Alessandro gasped, while Chiara was unhooking his belt.
Alessandro wondered what he was doing. She was driving him in a dangerous game. He didn’t have to get involved. It wasn’t the time, it wasn’t the p
lace, and above all, she wasn’t the right person. Yet, her hands were so determined and so hot… he felt them on his skin when she removed his trousers. He kicked them off and so did with hers. All the tension that they had built up the past days, all the doubts, all the suspects were exploding.
Chiara stroked his legs and pushed hers against him: skin-to-skin. She felt her own heart beating faster and sent back the emotion she was feeling, trying to exclude it from her mind and her heart. She kept her eyes closed, while he was stroking her cheek so sweetly she couldn’t imagine before. Then she looked for his lips and thought she was going to drown in his mouth. She closed her eyes, while feeling a warm blaze spreading from between her own legs. He took her into the bedroom and lifted her on his knees, making her to weave her legs together around his waist, and continued to kiss her.
“Chiara…” he said her name like a hoarse moan. She kept her eyes closed as it could protect her. She didn’t want to see his face and didn’t want to feel that strange perception. It had all started with a simple kiss, it was supposed to be a way to distract him and ask him for stay at dinner to have more time. Now, she was finding herself overwhelmed by emotions that she didn’t want to analyse.
His hands were holding her. She still had the legs entwined around his hips. She felt herself she was being put on the mattress and she opened her eyes, watching him. His arms were resting on the mattress next to her ankles. His face was close to hers and their lips met.
Passion… anger… fear… intense emotions were mingling in him. She was there, beautiful, her black and glossy hair scattered on the white quilt and her green eyes shining, her cheeks flushed. She had red and swollen lips… as Snow White! Here, if he had to define her, he would have called her Snow White.
The problem was that he was the huntsman. He closed his eyes, while his mind and his body didn’t work in the same way. Her hand touched his manliness. Alessandro chewed his lip, trying to protect himself with his hand. He caressed her breasts with the open palm and looked at it becoming swollen. He began to lick it with his tongue. She clawed his hair, uttering a hoarse moan: “Ale!”
UNDER THE CLOAK Page 4