The Amalfitano's Bold Abduction (The Italian Billionaires Collection)

by Jennifer Blake

  Dana felt her heart trip in her chest.

  Yes, the sooner she was away from Andrea Tonello, the better.

  “You spoke to the police?” she asked, keeping her voice steady with an effort.

  “Si. I did, yes.” He turned to face her, a smile lighting his eyes before he moved toward a coffee service that sat on a low table made of some exotic wood. “Will you have an espresso or caffè e latte?”

  She recognized that choice from her favorite Italian restaurant menu. “With milk, if you please. I’ve never acquired a taste for espresso.”

  “Stay in Italy long enough and it will come,” he said easily. He set his cup aside, took a silver pot in each hand and filled a cup with streams of hot coffee and hot milk. The cat Guaio, sitting on a cushion on a nearby sofa, stopped his grooming to watch the operation with narrow-eyed interest.

  “I doubt there will be time,” she said, her smile a little wry as she took the cup he handed her. The coffee was perfect. Feeling its reviving heat, she realized how chilled she’d become. No doubt a part of it was the shock of nearly being run over, as well as watching her belongings vanish before her eyes.

  “Only a short holiday then?”

  “The usual two weeks.”

  “Not nearly long enough. You should have a month, at least.”

  “I wish.” She went on to tell him about Suzanne and Caryn, and the house they had rented.

  “Perhaps you will come again next year, since you have found your way,” he said courteously when she had finished.

  She met his gaze for an instant. The green of his shirt did sinful things for the color of his eyes, not that she had any interest in that rather disturbing phenomenon. “Yes, perhaps.”

  “Excellent.”

  Enough polite chit-chat, she thought. It was time this show got on the road. “So what did the police say? Is it okay that we left the scene of the accident, or should I go back? Will I be all right even if unable to produce my passport or International driver’s permit for identification?”

  “We did not get into the details, but please, you must not worry so much. All will be well.”

  Was that possible? She didn’t know, and that was the problem. “Surely they want to talk to me?”

  He drained his cup then studied the golden brown stain left inside by the strong brew. “They do, yes.”

  “You mentioned before that they might come here. Is that the plan?”

  “Unfortunately, that isn’t convenient at this time. They request that you present yourself at the police station in Positano.”

  Was that normal? It must not be since Andrea seemed a little uneasy. She was on edge herself, though officialdom usually held no terrors for her. It was good to know they were about to set the accident investigation in motion.

  “I’m fine with that,” she said firmly. “If everything is straightened out in time, maybe they will be able to bring up the rental car this afternoon.”

  “And you can then be on your way to your friends.”

  She gave him a relieved smile. “Exactly.”

  “Bene,” he said. “We will take the helicopter.”

  Dana had just swallowed the last of her coffee. She choked, coughed to clear her throat. Her voice had a strangled sound when she was finally able to speak. “The helicopter! But why, what’s wrong with the car?”

  A pained expression crossed his face. “I thought you wanted speed.”

  “I’d say that Lamborghini of yours has more than enough.”

  “But in the chopper we will not be confined to the coast road, need not make every curve or worry about trailing along behind a tourist bus or some government worker who wishes to arrive home in time for lunch but not a minute before. It is a practical matter, you see?”

  She saw, all right, but she still didn’t like it.

  How had it come to this she wondered in despair? What had happened to her carefully planned vacation?

  By now, she should have been in Positano with Suzanne and Caryn, sipping wine and comparing travel stories. Instead, she was here in a strange house with a strange man, about to take off in a helicopter to face a police inquiry in a language she didn’t understand.

  It could be the police spoke English, of course. They must be used to tourists from Canada, Australia and the UK, as well as Americans. Somehow the possibility did not reassure her.

  “You will be on hand to translate?” she asked. “I know it’s an imposition, but—”

  “Yes, naturally I will be there as they wish also to speak to me.”

  No doubt they did. He was a witness, as he’d pointed out before. She pressed her lips together and breathed deep through her nose. “Fine, then. But before we go, I should call my friends to let them know I’ll be delayed.”

  He snapped his fingers and reached to take his cell phone from his pants pocket. “But of course, I had forgotten. They must not be allowed to worry.”

  The call went to voice mail.

  For the sake of economy, Suzanne and Caryn had only one cell phone between them. Whether they had it turned off or left it behind in the room while they went out was not possible to guess. Dana left a brief message to say she’d run into a problem and would be late arriving. She didn’t want to alarm them too much, so the details could wait. Besides, she hoped to be with them before the day was done.

  “They did not answer?” Andrea asked as she ended the call.

  She passed the cell to him with a small shake of her head. “I’ll call again from the police station, if you don’t mind. Suzanne and Caryn may be able to meet me there when we’re done.”

  “A good plan. And so?”

  She met his gaze, her own clear and full of purpose. “So when do we leave?”

  His smile was something more than approving. “Now, cara mia. We go at once.”

  Had he called her his dear in that heart-stopping accent of his? The question distracted her as they left the house and walked across the lawn toward the helipad. Well what if he had? As with her grandmother’s friends in Atlanta who called everyone honey or sugar, it most likely meant nothing.

  Guaio slipped out of the house behind them, winding around Dana’s ankles, running ahead and then looking back to be sure they were coming. Dana hated to disappoint the cat, but could see no help for it. He could hardly go to the police station.

  Andrea glanced at the seal point, but did nothing to stop him from following. No doubt he knew the noise of the helicopter would send him racing back to the house, Dana thought. There was no need to worry.

  The helicopter was as sleek in its way as Andrea’s Lamborghini, and also larger than it had appeared from the driveway. There was no sign of a pilot anywhere around, but Andrea did not hesitate. He swung open the side door, waited for the power steps to slide out and helped Dana inside.

  She was faced with five seats, all in gray leather. Choosing the nearest, she dropped down into it. She was still rubbing her elbow to soothe the tingle where Andrea had grasped it when her Italian host scooped up Guaio, bounded up to the steps and set the tom cat on her lap.

  “Well, looks as if you get to go, after all,” she murmured as she reached automatically to grasp the warm and furry body. “I can’t wait to see who babysits you while we’re at the police station.”

  If Andrea heard, he gave no sign. Closing and latching the door behind him, he made his way to the pilot’s seat.

  She should have known. It made perfect sense that piloting himself would be faster and more convenient.

  “You could come up here, if you like,” he called back to her. “The view will be much better.”

  No doubt it would. The prospect of that wider view warred with caution inside her, however. “Maybe I should stay here and hold Guaio.”

  “I transferred his carrier from my car, and it’s now between the seats directly behind you. It will be best if he travels in it.”

  The man had an answer for everything. It could become irritating if she let it.

 
The cat seemed willing enough to be put into the carrier. That argued he was used to it. Could be she needed to adjust her thinking to allow for a rich and possibly eccentric Italian who thought nothing of carrying a cat with him everywhere he went.

  The engine was humming and the rotors turning, beginning to whine, by the time she took the copilot’s seat. Andrea handed her a helmet with built-in headphones, reaching to tuck a strand of her hair out of the way as he fitted it on her head.

  She controlled a shiver at that brief touch. It meant nothing to him, or so it seemed, but she was not used to such casual intimacies.

  If he noticed her reaction, he gave no sign. His smile as he met her eyes was probably meant to be encouraging but had the opposite effect. If this was such a common, everyday method of travel, why would she need reassurance?

  Moments later, they lifted off the ground, rocking a little as they rose above the encroaching trees, the bulk of the house and mountain slope behind it. The helicopter swooped forward, banked and made a wide turn, heading out along the coast. It hummed along at terrific speed, zipping over the miles. Andrea Tonello had been right about the time savings in this mode of travel.

  “You are all right?”

  Dana dragged her gaze from the ribbon of winding, looping, vehicle-studded roadway below as she realized Andrea was talking to her through the helmet’s earphones. For the past several minutes, he had been exchanging comments in staccato Italian with some kind of air traffic control somewhere.

  “I’m great,” she said, giving him a quick thumb’s up. She was, too. It was good to be on her way to Positano again. The smoothness of the flight, also the easy and familiar way Andrea handled controls, watching the array of dials and gauges, inspired nothing but confidence.

  “Va bene. It will not be a long journey, this I promise you.”

  She didn’t mind how long it was, or she wouldn’t if she wasn’t so worried about her belongings that might be washing out to sea at that very moment. Excitement bubbled in her veins as she gazed around, fascinated by the distant gray-blue shapes of the hills, the rocky landscape directly below and glorious blue-green of the Mediterranean sea.

  She couldn’t wait to see Suzanne and Caryn and tell them about this wild adventure. They weren’t going to believe it, never in a million years. She wasn’t sure she believed it herself.

  It was just as well everyone in the States didn’t know what was going on at this moment, she thought. Her mom and dad and two brothers worried enough about her being a cop; she was the baby of the family, after all. While the whole bunch would be fit to be tied if they found out everything she owned was at the bottom of a cliff, her brothers would be especially horrified. They could short-sheet her bed, superglue her doll’s clothes to its body and dye her kitten’s hair pink, but no one else had better mess with her.

  Turning in her seat, she looked back to check on Guaio. The cat deliberately turned his stare away, as if bored or else annoyed at being shut up. Otherwise, he was okay in his rather palatial carrier that was lined with blue velvet and had stainless steel water and food bowls attached to the gridded door. She faced forward again.

  “You like cats,” Andrea said with a slight tilt to his smile.

  “How did you guess?” Her laugh was self-deprecating. “I have two at home, though neither with Guaio’s bloodlines.”

  “Not many are so rare. He is a champion in his class, as my sister would be the first to tell you.”

  “Your sister?”

  “He belongs to her, you realize.”

  “I see. And he’s a show cat?” It made sense. Guaio had that form and presence, also that kind of intense grooming.

  “She was involved in showing him at one time, but not anymore.”

  “The competition is fierce, I believe, not to mention expensive.”

  “It wasn’t that, so much as—well, other things intervened.”

  “And now you have him.”

  Andrea gave her a glance tinged with irony. “A temporary arrangement. At least, I trust so.”

  “I can’t imagine why. He seems perfectly well-behaved.”

  “You haven’t been around him long or you would never say that.”

  “Yet you take him wherever you go.” Skepticism was in her smile as she met his green gaze. “I think you like him, but just don’t want to admit it.”

  “You are deluded,” he answered, though his well-formed mouth twitched at one corner.

  “I’ll bet his name isn’t Guaio, either. What is it really? Something noble and a half-mile long?”

  “A full mile, at least. It is Petrarca Vittorio Galilei Justinius Machiavelli III.”

  Just listening to the syllables roll off Andrea’s tongue in deep, rounded tones was enough to bring a woman with less self-control to near orgasm. Dana smoothed the hair on her arm back down from its prickly, upstanding position. “Machiavelli, the authority on princely conniving? You’re making that up!”

  He gave a low chuckle. “Yes, I confess, though the rest is quite legitimate. And you may discover there is some accuracy in my addition.”

  He was devastating in this mood. He really was, darn the man. It was a good thing they would be at the police station soon, and she could put all this behind her.

  Dana glanced forward to check out their progress. She blinked then turned to stare out the tinted window beside her. A soft exclamation left her.

  There was nothing around them except water. While they were talking, they had left the coast behind. The helicopter was now flying out over the empty Mediterranean.

  “Is this a more direct route than following the coast road?” she asked in clipped concern.

  “You could say so.”

  She swung to stare at him with a frown between her brows. “No. I want you to say so.”

  He didn’t answer, but only reached to adjust a switch on the panel in front of him.

  Dana watched him in some perplexity. What did she know of air traffic patterns in this area, after all? Nothing. He could be following any set of coordinates and she’d never know. Yet why hadn’t he explained? He could have said something, even if he thought she wouldn’t understand.

  His silence seemed to mean only one thing. She could feel the increasing beat of her heart, sense the release of stress hormones like poison in her bloodstream. She swallowed before bringing out the question that rolled like thunder in her brain.

  “Where are we going?”

  He gave her a brief look before facing forward again. “Somewhere you will be safe.”

  “I’d feel pretty safe at the police station.”

  “You can’t stay there forever.”

  She took a deep breath while clinging hard to the remnants of her composure. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was fine until I met you.”

  “You were.”

  “What is it I’m supposed to be kept safe from now? Who were the men in the car that hit mine, and why did they do that? Who are you that I’m suddenly in danger because I’m close to you?”

  “It isn’t me.”

  Oh, please. If it isn’t you, I suppose it’s Guaio. He’s the one who’s so dangerous.”

  “He isn’t dangerous, but—” He stopped, shook his head. “I’ll tell you all about it when we land. Until then, it will be best if you sit back, relax, and let me get us there without incident.”

  “Relax? You want me to relax when you’re virtually kidnapping me?” She could hear her voice rising, but couldn’t do a thing about it.

  “The pertinent word is virtually. You came of your own free will.”

  She crossed her arms over her breast, clasping her arms tightly on either side. “That was because I thought I knew where we were going. Now I don’t. Just where is there, if it isn’t too much to ask?”

  “An island.”

  “An island,” she repeated blankly.

  “A private island. Isola delle Palme delle Tonellos.”

  “Delle Tonellos? Does that mean—”

 
; “It belongs to my family, has for generations.”

  His own island. Wasn’t that nice? Private, too. And isolated no doubt. Also not easy to get to if he needed a helicopter for the trip.

  This couldn’t be happening. She felt cold inside, afraid to believe it could turn out all right, afraid to think it wouldn’t. “What’s so great about going there? What makes it safer for me than anywhere else?”

  “It is an island,” he reiterated. The glance he sent her was less than patient.

  “Meaning?”

  “No one can land on it without someone knowing. Security is more certain.”

  “More certain than the police.” The scathing sound of the words underlined her disbelief.

  “In this case, yes.”

  “And from what, exactly, do I need to be secure?”

  “It is a family matter, one too complicated to go into just now.”

  She sat unmoving, watching lacy white caps that topped the blue waves passing rapidly beneath them, also the small, moving shadow of the helicopter cast upon them. When she spoke again, her lips were so stiff it was difficult to form the words.

  “You never called the police, did you?”

  Chapter 3

  “I reported the accident.”

  Andrea chose those words with such care that it was he who felt Machiavellian. His intentions were the best, but Dana Marsden was unlikely to believe that at this moment.

  She was amazingly calm, given the circumstances. Most women would be screaming, shouting at him, demanding he turn around and set them down in Positano. That she was not made him distinctly wary.

  People resorted to screaming and shouting when they felt helpless. This American policewoman with her amazing Titian red hair shining in the sun through the cockpit window could well have other responses in mind. It put him on his guard.

  “But you did not tell the police you knew where I was,” she said with fury leaping like fire in the golden brown of her eyes.

  “On the contrary. I said you were safe and taking shelter from the rain.”

  “It isn’t raining now. They will expect me to show up.”