“So?”
“Carlo, they are powerful men. I’m afraid, you know? Some of you are cheating!”
Carlo gasped. Suddenly, many details, many phrases, so many clues… the figures didn’t add up.
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I was thinking about you or Alessandro!”
“What about Chiara?”
“No, Carlo. Rumours leaked before she came!” It was disturbing. Carlo didn’t know what to say, what was going on. Events overwhelmed him. He had no more jokes to do. Ironically he thought that at least Chiara wasn’t guilty; nevertheless, he was concerned. The terrorist had killed Claudia and they had put a bomb on. Some of the guests were still in the area. They were waiting for the conference.
The situation was still at high risk. Nobody could dream carefree dreams. He had expressed his doubts even to Torres.
“Amina, why don’t you come back and stay with me for this time? Don’t go back to the foster home.”
“Are you crazy?” her eyes flashed. He stared at her: she was beautiful. A sudden thought came in his mind: she was his wife. She had shared part of her life with him. He wanted her again. Perhaps, that was because in those months he had made the bachelor: had he tried to escape the emptiness she had left?
Chiara was waiting in the street, cursing her sister: boots, skinny shirt and a green top, how could she have followed her advice? “Sexy clothes, you have to feel alive and woman!” She had said.
She had worn them because she had decided that she would have revealed her cards the next day. She would have waited again that evening, after dinner; she was up to make her final check, and the next day she would have put her cards on the table. Each one would have assumed his responsibilities.
She got out of the car and started walking. Alessandro swallowed. She was beautiful. She was advancing like as a panther, sexy like a siren. Torres met her by giving his hand. When she passed towards him, he was flooded by her scent. He was stunned by the soft rose essence. She apparently ignored him, but their hands touched. He turned his head. Was it a casual gesture?
They discussed about work. She saw Torres. Every time their eyes met, she escaped. Tension ran on the edge of glass, every time that she brought it to her lips. He thought of those lips that had tasted his. Chiara squinted, watching his eyes linger on her mouth. She shifted her gaze on his hands, bringing the fork to his lips. His hands were moving, according with his words.
Chiara was pale, at the end of the second dish. She got up and moved toward the bathroom. Instinctively, he stood by going behind her. He stopped her in the hallway:
“What happened?” Chiara whirled toward him. She couldn’t tell him that Torres and Carlo had just mentioned that they thought there was a double agent. She knew that they were talking about him. She stared at him, speechless. She didn’t know what to tell him
“Chiara, what happens?”
Alessandro had changed in those few weeks. He had left the role of the arrogant cocky male to be a tender, passionate and respectful lover. He grabbed her. She had a long shiver:
“Are you okay?”
“Perhaps the stale air, the voices… nothing that a bit of water on my face can’t wipe away. Ale, don’t worry!”
“Okay. Go!” He released her arm. She was staring at him. Was it so simple? He was just… letting her go? That way? She stood still, staring at him, passing her tongue on her dry lips and a hand on her skirt, pulling it down, as if she could miraculously lengthen it of a couple of inches:
“What?” He closed his eyes. She stared at him:
“I thought you liked me!”
He swallowed: “What makes you think I don’t?”
She raised an eyebrow and shook her head:
“I think it’s clear!”
She started to turn. He grabbed her wrist. He pulled her close. She found herself leaning against him, feeling all his irrepressible arousal.
“Nothing has changed, Chiara. I want you, and you want me!”
She stared into his eyes:
“Yes, maybe it is true. Sure it is. But I’m used to sacrifices. Our uniform, our beliefs require them. Because it is our belief, isn’t it?” She drew back from him and looked at his face. He shook his head. Then he grabbed her neck with one hand, pulling her against his lips, whispering:
“Chiara, it is.” Before moving his lips to hers, he didn’t kiss her, but it didn’t matter for Chiara. Her heart leaped in her chest. Her breath got caught in her throat. She went a single step back, breathing. He stared at her:
“It’s not the right time, Chiara!” He let her go to the bathroom. He walked away toward the table. He sat, drumming his fingers on the table, listening and not listening, hearing and not hearing, seeing and not seeing. He saw Chiara back. She smiled and sat. His hand, under the table, brushed her leg. She gasped, but she didn’t move. She looked into his eyes, and then she turned her attention to Torres.
Carlo had observed Alessandro, with his eyes half closed, for all evening. His hands itched for the desire to tackle him. Alessandro spoke, tasted the sweet… Carlo couldn’t and didn’t want to believe that…
Chapter 41
After dinner, they left the table and continued their conversation. They moved near the door to the inner garden. Chiara, at one point, walked away, apologizing.
She looked around, and walked toward the fence and the rose bushes. She extracted the phone that had started vibrating for a bit:
“Boss, sorry. I had a slowdown. I’m collecting any evidence. I won’t say anything I am not sure about! Tomorrow, I’ll know enough. I’m just missing the last pieces.”
Alessandro was petrified. He had seen her getting away. He had worried she felt sick and he had followed her.
He would never have expected that. However, he remained still and stunned. He walked away and stood by the door of the terrace. Once she went back, he grabbed her by the shoulders, staring into her eyes:
“When did your memories come back?”
She stared into his eyes then she lowered her chin:
“Some days ago.”
Alessandro dropped his arms. He clenched his fists. He watched her back, furious. He approached the wall, pulling a punch.
“You fooled me!”
He turned to look into her eyes. He had a look of disapproval:
“You’ve only teased me. You were investigating!”
“Ale, it isn’t…”
“Deny it. Come on, tell me you weren’t investigating these days, while you were with me… while you were holding me and begging - Again, again! - Look at me and tell me that you don’t lie!”
Chiara knew: she could lose it all. She had to recover his confidence. She wanted that.
“Ale, I believe you are innocent. I don’t know what is going on, but I don’t think that you’re corrupt. If I worked behind you, I did it because you’re closed like a clam and you don’t help me!”
“So it’s my fault?”
He was furious. His chest rose and fell heavily. His hands were clenched with white knuckles.
She held his gaze. She didn’t escape from his anger. She stood still, facing him without blinking:
“A bit!”
Every time that they loved each other… she had faked it? She had always faked? Could she be such a good actress? He had been wrong so much?
He was furious. She watched him. Now, he had to reach an agreement, but what if she thought that he was really corrupt? It hurt more than all the rest. She doubted. How could she think he was responsible of Claudia’s death?
Chiara looked at him. She approached him. He didn’t make a move. If she thought he was afraid of her, she was wrong.
“Tell me what’s going on, Alessandro!”
He lifted his chin, decided:
“I’m of counterterrorism. I told you!”
Chiara glanced behind him: they were alone. She hissed:
“No, it isn’t, Alessandro. Why do you have a map of the conference hall on whic
h someone wrote notes in Arabic? Why not result your talks with Jamal?”
He stared at her, impenetrable:
“Why did you draw your own conclusions, Chiara? Why did not you ask me?”
“Are you kidding me? You can’t be serious! Ask you? So you could tell me other crap? I’m telling Torres, tomorrow! I waited too much, now that’s enough!”
He narrowed his eyes:
“As you wish, Chiara. You’re used to pry and snoop other people’s life! You see all black or white!”
He turned away. He was angry, worried. He had to stop her. How?”
“Stop!” Her voice stopped him. She turned away. She was beautiful, still as a war goddess. She advanced towards him, grabbing his shirt with both hands. She pulled him close, staring into his eyes:
“Grey is a shade that I don’t like. There are no shades of grey in our job. And you know. It’s up to you, ale, show me something… if you want!”
She walked over to his lips, brushing them with hers and she moved back:
“Got it clear, Ale?”
“Unfortunately, I did, Chiara. I thought there was something between us, but I was wrong!”
“It isn’t true, Ale, it could not. You lied to me, I lied to you!”
Suddenly, she lost all her self-confidence, all the air regal, icy, and the flames of passion came out. She slumped her shoulders. He was moving away, but he stopped, turned back and grabbed her chin, lifting her face:
“You can say anything, but this… this is damn true!” He captured her lips. He teased until he heard her moan, then he kissed her eyelids, the tip of nose, her cheeks, while his hand slipped down her throat. She thought: “Don’t stop”, but she couldn’t utter a single sound. She threw her head back, by offering access to him to her throat:
“You can say anything you want, Chiara, my sweet Chiara. You can hide behind the uniform, behind our duty, behind your doubts, but you know the truth. This is what you really want!” He left her. She stood still.
He joined the others. He escaped from the eye of Carlo and Amina. He had realized that he was guilty to their eyes too. He stroked his temples. He had to get out of that situation without discovering his game. Then, it was a matter of hours. Then, everything would have come to the surface. He had to go and talk to the kids, escaping the control of Jamal. He had groped for broke.
When they had finished drinking the coffee, they had begun to speak, but Chiara had remained silent for most of the rest of the evening. She was absorbed. She watched them all, one by one, then she got up and she walked toward the exit. She was leaning against a column, outside of the restaurant. Alessandro caught her, after having heard Torres that he needed to talk to him and make an appointment for the next day. He had groped to convince her to temporize.
He stopped a few steps away from her. Her eyes were half closed. Her face was pale. She was trembling. He approached her, as he noticed the black car, the same one that he had already noted several times, the same as he had been under his home.
“Damn it!”
She looked up, sensing the danger in the same instant he sensed it. He quickly grabbed her, shielding her with his body, pushing her behind the column. Three shots were fired in quick succession from the machine running directly toward them.
They stood, while everyone came running from the restaurant: Torres, Carlo, Amina, the guys, all guns in hand. Alessandro moved away from her.
“Everything is all right!”
“What the hell happened?” said Torres.
Chiara looked at him: “Someone shot!”
“I knew it! They don’t want you to have your memory back!” She stared at him. She wanted to tell him that the goal was Alessandro, not her. He stared into her eyes. His face was emblematic.
She could still feel the warmth of his hand on her back. He had protected without hesitation. The question was: why they wanted him dead, it he was really one of them? Alessandro was concerned. She was again on the firing line. Jamal had understood that he was interested to her? She was in danger because of him? Jamal was playing cat and mouse. If only his brother, Tom, had spoken to him before, he would have faced the case in a different way. Now, it would all be different. He wouldn’t give any pretext to Jamal to keep him under his control. Some colleagues surrounded Chiara. He wanted to hug her, tell her the truth, share with her the damnation that he was carrying, and give her a choice.
Carlo was staring at him. His hand was tight to Amina. They still loved each other. He lowered his head. He wasn’t meant to love. He swallowed, standing on the side-lines. He ran a hand on his thigh. He had slammed it violently against the column. He raised it and he saw it was wet. Damn. He walked away towards the bathroom. Once he entered, he lowered jeans, seeing the cut and the abrasions. He swore. He looked up, when the door burst open:
“Carlo!”
“What the hell are you hiding?”
He stared into his eyes:
“Nothing. Why?”
“Someone of us is a double-agent. It’s nor Torres, nor me; it wasn’t Claudia. The men of the other squad just give us a hand. So it’s Luigi or it’s you.”
“O Amina or Chiara! You don’t think about them, Carlo?”
Hi voice was scathing:
“Don’t even try!”
Alessandro continued to treat the leg with what he had found in the box in the bathroom, without answering. Carlo approached him and touched his shoulder and he lifted his face:
“Carlo, I have nothing to say!”
He shook him: “You must tell me something!”
“I don’t. I won’t tell you anything. You’re a colleague. Don’t you trust me? It’s your problem!” He dressed his jeans, leaving the cut to bleed. He walked toward the door. Carlo passed him and came between the door and him:
“It is our problem, Ale. Are you corrupt? You killed Claudia?” Alessandro jumped. A flash of pain passed through his eyes. In a sense, it could be true. But he had not thought that they could shoot. He had not thought that Claudia would lose her life. He pushed Carlo away and hissed: “Forget about it.”
Carlo didn’t give up:
“No, damn! I want an answer!” He hit Alessandro, who didn’t react, trying to move him again, with success.
“Not from me!” He slammed the door behind himself. Once he had come out, he saw Chiara at the phone. She was pale:
“Yes. I’m reaching you as soon as possible. Where is she? How is she? I…”
They both stopped and looked at her, puzzled. Carlo walked on, stopping Alessandro with a feral look:
“So what’s up?”
“My sister is at the hospital. I have to… I have to reach her!”
Carlo stared at her. Torres said:
“Detective, it’s late. You can’t go; the hospital is closed. You couldn’t go in anyway. We need you here!”
Her eyes were misting with tears. She breathed deep. It wasn’t fair. It was not possible. Carlo wrapped an arm around her Alessandro approached to Torres to release his deposition.
He was tired. All the choices he had seemed wrong. His leg was hurting. He wanted to tighten Chiara, sink into her breast and lose himself into her hair.
Chapter 42
Chiara couldn’t think. Carlo was very attentive. She felt confused. He had driven her to her hotel. Alessandro had not said a word, but she was too tired even to worry about it. The morning after, at 6:00 a.m. she was already up; someone knocked at her door. She gasped, when she saw Alessandro waiting for her. He looked proud though he hadn’t shaven for a couple of days.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came for you!”
“Why?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Come on, I’ll take you to your sister,” replied he abruptly.
Chiara shook her head: “Okay. You think that I’m a monster; last night you told me we couldn’t end together. I don’t trust you, you don’ trust me. You were near to kill me. So what is this? Now you want me to come with you? Do you? Gues
s what, I’m not coming!”
“You are; because you want to know what is going on, mush as I do, because you and I can get behind each other… You can pick Carlo, or me, but you have to choose. You won’t go alone. It’s dangerous!”
“They wanted to kill you, not me, and you know!”
Alessandro sighed, shaking his head:
“You don’t know!” She observed his magnetic eyes, the line of his jaw, the slight dark fuzz that was visible from the neck of the shirt. She brushed his chest: his muscles stiffened under her touch. He stopped her hand, stroking her wrists; her lips opened a bit.
“Make a choice”.
“You. I choose you!”
She realized that the phrase could be misunderstood.
His smile reached his eyes. Alessandro nodded: “You need a baggage?”
“No, I just want to leave now!”
“Ok. Let’s go.”
He moved towards the elevator, stopping at the door and waiting for her.
Chiara frowned: “Are you hurt?”
“Why?”
She stared at his leg: “You limp!”
Alessandro blinked, shaking his head: “No great shakes. The bullet barely hit me! Come on!”
He pushed her inside the elevator, resting his hand at the bottom of her back. A long shiver wrapped her.
They looked at each other while they went down. Her chest was rising and falling furiously. He narrowed his eyes, staring at her; she had tight jeans, high shoes, and a soft shirt. She was wearing a light make up. She wet her lips. He clenched his fists, took a step forward, stopping a few inches from her face:
“Did you talk to you sister?”
“No, I didn’t.”
He didn’t want to touch her. He just whispered: “I’m sorry.”
She changed the subject: “Do you want me to drive?”
“I think I can do it!”
He sounded sarcastic. She didn’t reply. She left the elevator, head high and steady step, muttering against him and his stubbornness.
Alessandro slip behind the wheel. He fixed the mirror and turned the radio on. He stole a glance at Chiara, who snorted. He took all the time to check the road.
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