by Diana Duncan
“Relax, Miss Bennett.” Captain Pappas leaned forward. “No one is accusing you. Simply tell the truth. You have nothing to be afraid of.”
Wrong. The truth would get Dante killed. “I’m in a foreign country, and I don’t want any…miscommunication.” Ariana forced herself to hyperventilate. “I’d…like to…speak to someone from the American Embassy, get a translator and…an attorney.” Tears were still so close, it was easy to make them surface. “Please. I don’t want any trouble.”
“She’s hyperventilating.” Dr. Latsis surged to her feet and turned to Gideon. “Do you have a paper bag?”
The doctor searched cabinets as Zahakis and Captain Pappas clashed. The Inspector was all for hauling her into Athens and detaining her. The Captain insisted Zahakis didn’t have probable cause and vigorously defended his employee.
The doctor bent over Ariana, instructing her to breathe into a paper motion-sickness bag as the argument escalated.
Finally Gideon rose. “Enough!” he declared. “We aren’t accomplishing anything. We not only have Miss Bennett to protect, but the cruise line, as well. Honoring Miss Bennett’s request for an embassy representative and a lawyer will accomplish both. And I’d prefer to have the FBI involved from the beginning.”
Inspector Zahakis resisted, and Ariana feared the men might come to blows before Gideon and the Captain prevailed. Zahakis stomped to the door, snapping orders to Ariana not to leave Athens without permission. He declared he’d be back as soon as she had contacted the embassy and acquired an attorney.
As Agent Esposito passed Ariana on her way out, she slipped her an empathetic smile and her card. “Ring me if you need assistance,” she murmured. “I can put you in contact with the FBI office in Rome, and possibly help you locate a more reasonable local official.”
Ariana let the doctor monitor her vital signs and told her she hadn’t been assaulted. She returned to her cabin, amazed at how well her plan had worked. She’d never been a good liar. But then she’d never had the motivation.
No matter how valid the reason, she still felt tainted. Craving a long, hot shower, she peeled off her shirt. She slid her hand into her cargo pants pocket to retrieve her iPod and notebook. She’d been in turmoil since the moment she’d left Dante and hadn’t even thought about them.
Her breath caught. They weren’t there.
Don’t panic. She had buttoned them in. They couldn’t have fallen out. Maybe in her rush to leave the cottage, she’d forgotten which pocket. She thrust her hand into the left pocket.
Unwilling to believe what her screaming mind already knew, she stripped off her pants and frantically searched every pocket.
Empty.
Realization staggered her. That last soul-searing kiss. Dante’s clever hands skimming down her body. Dante the pickpocket had stolen her iPod and notebook with the same ease and stealth as Dante the thief had stolen her heart.
Why? Why had he taken her father’s files? Did he plan to sell the antiquities and take over the smuggling ring? Bewildered hurt whirled inside her, and she paced the cabin.
Had he fabricated everything? His empathy; his kisses, the poor, starving orphan story? Had it been a calculated lie to serve his selfish ends?”
No. She didn’t want to believe that. But how much evidence did she need?
Once a thief, always a thief.
And she’d just lied to the police to protect him.
Her chest ached, heavy with grief. Every man she’d loved had betrayed her. The one man she’d believed in, the one she’d thought she could count on, had turned out to be the worst of all.
He’d asked her about the goddess of deception. She should have remembered Apate had a male counterpart—Dolos, the demon of trickery and wiles. Dolos gained people’s trust and fed them falsehoods mixed with bits of truth, so the lies were harder to see. Dante had pretended to sympathize about Geoff and her father, while preparing to stab her in the heart. She wrapped trembling arms around herself. How could she have been so gullible? She’d fallen for the oldest con known to womankind.
She’d invested her body and soul in Dante. Invested her hopes and dreams in something she’d thought unique and wonderful. But his love had turned out to be a cruel forgery, cleverly crafted to seem real. A pretty illusion.
And like all fakes, alluring but worthless.
She’d given him everything, and he’d used her.
She stumbled on the carpet and sank to the floor. Tears would be a welcome release, but the pain cut too deep.
She was empty.
LESS THAN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS after Dante had thrown Ariana to the wolves, he sat alone at a table inside a smoky taverna in Athens.
Back to the wall, gaze on the door, he tuned out a raucous backgammon tournament. Between concern for Ariana’s safety and ramping the job to full speed after his enforced absence, he’d barely slept. He gulped from a bottle of Peroni and made himself eat the souvlaki.
He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face. He had to be at peak. Not staying on top of his game could cost Ariana her life.
The door opened, letting in a leaden slice of drab daylight and a tall, hard-as-nails Italiano in his midfifties. Ancient jeans bagged on his lanky frame, topped by a dark green shirt and weathered brown leather jacket. There was more salt in his thick salt-and-pepper mane than when they’d last met. Dante was responsible for the majority of that seasoning.
The man sauntered to his table.
“Ciao, Bernardo.”
“Ciao, Dante. In trouble again, I see.”
“Been in worse.” Dante’s booted foot kicked out a chair. “Have a seat.”
“Not from what I hear.” Bernardo sat across from him, his expression fierce. “The Camorra and the mystery woman, Megaera, both want your head on a platter.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“The way you handled Ariana Bennett? I saw you kissing her at the dock. What the hell are you doing?”
Fury flared. “The way I conduct business is my call.”
“Kissing a mark in broad daylight for God and the world to see isn’t smart business, amico mio. Not when you could end up forfeiting everything you’ve worked so hard to gain.”
“Again, my worry.”
The barmaid bustled over, and Bernardo ordered a beer. The men waited in taut silence while she delivered it and left. “Don’t forget time, money and more lives than your own are at stake.”
“Not for one second.” Or he would have pulled out long ago. Dante took another swallow of beer, mostly to cool his temper. Anger only clouded things. “What do you have for me?”
“You won’t like it.”
“I have despised this assignment since I was ordered to kidnap Ariana and babysit her for weeks.”
Bernardo slid a manila envelope from inside his jacket and passed it to Dante. “See for yourself.”
Dante grimly flipped through time-stamped photos of Giorgio Tzekas entering Ariana’s cabin. He’d visited her within an hour of her reboarding the ship. The food soured in his stomach. “So?”
“Tzekas spent a lot of time with Ariana before her inopportune appearance at the dig site in Naples.”
Dante fought to keep rage at bay and his hand steady as he passed the damning pictures back. What he wanted to do was rip them to shreds. “Socializing with a coworker isn’t a crime.”
Bernardo tucked the envelope away. “She told the Greek police nothing. Claimed she had ‘memory gaps.’”
Dante’s heart stumbled. She was protecting him. And maybe her father. He shrugged. “Possible. She has been through a lot.”
“Che cazzata. And you know it.”
“I did not want to involve her to start with, you know that.” He shoved his plate aside. “Leave her out of this!”
“We can’t. Signorina Bennett may be involved up to her pretty blue eyes. Weeks ago, she sent a chip from a ‘reproduction’ vase to a friend in the States for analysis. Turns out it’s part of a genuine artifact, missing from
a dig site.”
“The vase was broken in Ariana’s library, and an insurance appraisal could require analysis.”
Bernardo’s heavy brows lowered. “Ariana speaks Greek like a native, yet she requested a translator from the police. It could be a stall tactic while her cohorts transfer the goods.”
“Or perhaps she is being prudent.” Dante had finally heeded his own warning to Ariana to listen to intuition, and knew she hadn’t played him. Her distress over her father was genuine. As were her feelings for Dante when they’d made love, and her grief when he’d abandoned her at the dock. “You still have no information on this Megaera who kidnapped us and was Derek Bennett’s mistress?”
“Only a first name and no face complicates matters.”
“She is the brains of the organization. You have someone watching the island?”
“Sì. The Camorra picked up their men, but no one has retrieved the antiquities yet.”
“Then Ariana has not spoken to Tasia, either.” Dante scowled. “If she were working with her, she would have made contact.”
“There are…concerns about you at the top. Doubts about which side you are truly on.” Bernardo’s weathered face creased in warning. “If Ariana Bennett is running Derek’s business, she’ll drag your career down with her.”
Dante’s fingers tightened around the bottle. “Screw my career.” He believed in Ariana. Perhaps too late, he’d realized that he loved her more than duty, more than anything in this world…or the next.
“You would throw it all away?”
“Paintings, jewelry, sculptures—everything I have devoted my life to protect are merely things, Bernardo. They have no heartbeat. No soul.”
Bernardo assessed him closely. “What has happened to you?”
Dante looked at his friend and mentor and admitted the truth. “Ariana happened to me.” He needed to be with her, but he couldn’t go to her with stains on his hands. Finishing this was his only way to keep her safe. “I will stake my life on her innocence.”
“Your job has been everything to you.” Bernardo rubbed his chin. “If you would risk your future, your very life, for this woman, you’re in so deep you can no longer distinguish fact from fantasy.”
“I know what’s real.” And it wasn’t the dark realm he’d inhabited the past fifteen years. Ariana wasn’t just any woman. She owned his heart. She might be carrying his baby. He didn’t care how much she hated him when this was over. When he was free, he would not abandon his woman or his child as his father had done. He slammed his bottle down. “I hate using her! If she is harmed, there will be hell to pay.”
Bernardo frowned thoughtfully. “I have not seen this reckless fire burning inside you since before you went to jail.”’
Dante battled for control. “If Ariana is hurt, those responsible will see more than my temper. No matter whose side they are on.”
“Ah. It’s finally happened.” Bernardo’s frown deepened. “I knew if you ever fell, it would be hard. I hope she’s worth it.”
Dante leaned forward and dropped his voice. “This is the last time, Bernardo. I no longer have the stomach for lies. After this, I am done.”
“Be very careful. You are swimming in dangerous waters, Dante. I do not wish to see you drown.”
He shrugged again. “My funeral.”
“I fear so, amico mio.” Bernardo sadly shook his head and passed over a thick envelope. “Here are data, photos, everything you need. A cache of stolen antiquities was discovered when Alexandra’s Dream was docked in Livorno, but nothing came of the investigation. Giorgio Tzekas has a gambling habit his salary can’t support, and the only reason he has a job is because his father knew Elias Stamos. One of our operatives has ascertained that a man matching Giorgio’s description attempted to buy a black-market amphora from a dig site near Naples.”
Bernardo paused to drink. “Movement of black-market antiquities has occurred wherever Giorgio Tzekas and the ship’s priest have visited, and the pair has been seen engaged in intense discussions. We suspect they’re front men for something much bigger.”
“A cruise ship is a perfect base of operations for a smuggling ring.”
“Sì. I took a sample from a triptych in ‘Father Connelly’s’ room. Analysis shows it’s fifth century. It belongs to a small order of Albanian monks who reside at the Vatican. The operative I sent there reports the gardener had spoken to a foreign priest about six weeks ago, and his description sounded like Father Connelly. Their conversation stuck in his mind because of the severe storm that caused the two men to seek shelter inside the chapel, and because the father’s blessing of him had seemed rather jumbled. He couldn’t positively identify Patrick Connelly from a photo. The chapel had been dim, and the priest was wearing a cassock.”
“Convenient.”
“But a bartender in Alghero, Sardinia did recognize Father Connelly’s photograph as a man who had been drinking heavily in his establishment—in civilian garb. The man paid in American dollars, and the bar doesn’t see many Americans.”
“Connelly is not a priest.”
“Not even close. Fingerprints ID him as Mike O’Connor, bit actor and con artist. His description fits a man who romanced Contessa Valerio in Rome a few years ago and absconded with her diamond earrings. The Contessa said she and O’Connor visited the chapel and he took dozens of pictures of the icon.”
“So he could have had a forgery made and slipped it in place of the real item.”
“You can connect the dots as well as I can. Stolen antiquities aboard Alexandra’s Dream with tension running between ‘Father Connelly,’ Giorgio and Ariana. Ariana’s appraisal of the broken vase. Ariana’s investigation of one of her father’s known dig sites causing both of you to be kidnapped by Megaera. Derek Bennett and his lover, the same mysterious Megaera, stealing the antiquities you found on her island. What’s the common denominator?”
Ariana. Dante’s throat tightened. He’d only wanted to keep her safe. Instead, he’d sent her directly into the lion’s den. Into mortal danger. “O’Connor and Tzekas are working for Megaera.”
“That’s what we need to prove. I have enough to finish off ‘Father Connelly,’ but we’re not settling for a minor player. I want him and Giorgio to lead us to the boss. I want to put Megaera out of business.” Bernardo paused. “I’m sorry, Dante. If your Ariana is involved, we must take her out, too.”
Dante slowly laid the envelope on the table. “And now, amico mio, is when I must ask you for something that will put me forever in your debt.”
ARIANA TOWELED DRY after her shower and then donned brown slacks and a copper silk blouse. As she slid her feet into short brown boots, a knock rapped on her door.
She accepted her breakfast tray from the steward. A bulky padded envelope sat to one side, and he nodded. “That was delivered for you this morning. And the switchboard operator says there’s a phone message for you. It came while you were…uh…gone.”
She thanked him and he strode away. Heart pounding, she set the tray on the nightstand and picked up the envelope. Her name stood out in bold, slanted script. She tore open the flap, and dumped out her passport, wallet, keys and cell phone.
Disappointment washed over her. She was silly for wishing for something more than the impersonal package. Dante had returned her things, as promised. What did she expect? Considering what he’d already stolen from her, she should be glad he’d followed through.
She flipped open her wallet. ID and credit cards present. As was her cash. She swallowed hard. And something that wasn’t there before. A white slip of paper tucked between the bills.
Her hands trembled as she unfolded the note. It was in Italian, written in the same bold script emblazoned on the envelope.
Ariana, mia cara, please forgive me. When you think back, you will know I spoke the truth. I did what I must. Now you must do what is right for you. I hope that some day, you will again believe in the magic of fairy tales.
There was no signature. There
was no need for one.
Ariana buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. She missed him with every breath. Even now, she still wanted to believe in him.
What was wrong with her?
Sorrow swamped her, and she cried for all she’d gained in the past five weeks…and for everything she’d lost.
She hated what Dante had done to her. But she couldn’t hate him. She sobbed out her heartbreak. Her mother was right. You couldn’t switch love on and off.
Ariana had admired Geoff’s solid pragmatism, the very trait that had made him overly cautious. She had adored her father’s imagination and penchant for dreams, which had steered him toward a doomed romance. Her father had made foolish choices, but he wasn’t a bad person. He’d been a good father. Had always loved her. He’d stayed with his family and treated them well, though his heart was elsewhere.
Ariana better understood her father’s choices now. Understood taking risky chances for love. How easy it was to rationalize veering from your moral compass for your soul mate. She had crossed way over the line for Dante.
And no matter how much she protested, she still loved her tough guy. She loved his intelligence and courage and wry humor. His passion and strength. She loved the lonely, hungry boy inside him that tempted him to seek the thrill and false security of stealing.
Did that make her weak and stupid? Or merely human?
The heart loves, flaws and all. Like mother like daughter. Sadie had loved a smuggler and a thief, as did Ariana.
She reread Dante’s note, and her emotions calmed. He’d warned her on the island that she’d experience doubts. Had cautioned her to use intuition to discern the truth. An undercurrent had often hummed beneath his words. Unspoken subtext, as if he wished to convey thoughts he couldn’t say out loud.
I hope that someday, you will again believe in the magic of fairy tales.
In the myth she had related to him, both Eros and Psyche believed the other had betrayed them, when in reality, they loved one another. Ariana inhaled sharply. Was Dante telling her that his betrayal wasn’t what it seemed?
When you think back, you will know I spoke the truth.