Dangerous Kiss

by Michelle Love

  Ethan nodded. “Okay, yeah, almost over. I think Kizzie should be thinking about what she does next.”

  Jesse looked amused. “What about what you do next?”

  “I’m going back to school,” Ethan said, shrugging. “As soon as the docs say I can, I’m going back to Auburn.”

  Jesse was stunned. “Really?”

  Ethan smiled. “Hell, yes. I know some people may blame me for not saying anything about Petersen, but I have to show that I believe in my college and that I love it. That’s the best way to atone. And I had an idea that may benefit both the school and Kiz. I think she should do a charity concert in Lexi’s memory.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Jesse felt adrenaline surged through him, as well as newfound respect for Ethan.

  “Kizzie hasn’t picked up her cello in weeks, and I think she needs to have that push, that reason to do it. It would be a shame to waste her talent—not that I’ve ever heard her play, so there is a selfish part of me that’s doing this.”

  Jesse smiled at him. “Dude … you’re really into her, huh?”

  Ethan flushed a little scarlet but grinned. “Yeah, man. She rocks my world.” He took a slug of coffee to hide his embarrassment. “What about Bree, then? How are you two doing?”

  Jesse’s smile faded a little. “She’s scared about testifying and bringing back those memories. She’ll do it, obviously, but I wish I could spare her the pain.”

  Ethan looked away for a second and Jesse could see the guilt on his face. “Hey, hey, stop that,” Jesse said. “Anyone in your position … well, we all react differently. I don’t think I would have believed Petersen would do what he did. Or that his plan would work out so violently. Jeez.”

  “Yeah,” Ethan sighed. “Can’t wait until this is all over, though, dude.”

  Jesse nodded. “It will be soon, buddy. I know things are going to get better.”

  “The mountain’s out.”

  Luca pointed unnecessarily toward the ethereal sight of Mount Rainier rising out of the horizon, breathtaking and deadly. Dante nodded, and Emory wondered if he was really listening or locked in the memory of their lovemaking. This morning, early, they had woken, and without speaking, begun to make love silently again, intensely, their gaze never leaving the other. He caught her looking at him. She grinned, and he winked at her.

  As they sped out of the city, Emory noticed the waterfront bustling with tourists, kids, too, taken out early from school. The sunshine reflected off the cars that jammed Seattle’s streets, and the smell of seafood from the waterfront restaurants filled the air.

  Luca headed south out of Seattle, toward Tacoma and the mountain. He eased the car onto the interstate and chuckled at the annoyed sound Emory made from the back seat. She loathed the interstates. He looked round, and she poked her tongue out at him. She had insisted that Dante take the shotgun. She knew she would end up sleeping all the way to their destination—car travel was always like a bucketful of Valium for her—and Dante would be better company for Luca. Sure enough, the rhythmic sound of the wheel made her drift off. She was hovering on the cusp of sleep when she heard Dante speak.

  “Quiet in the back, there.”

  She heard Luca laugh. “Any car trip over ten minutes, man, she’s out like a light. Unless she’s driving. And even then, it’s a fine line.”

  Dante chuckled. “Guess there’s still some things I have yet to learn.”

  “That’s the thing about Em,” Luca said without bitterness. “There’s always something left to learn about her.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  As Emory drifted off into a deep sleep, she heard Luca’s soft laugh. “I’m not even going to pretend I don’t envy you, Dante. Promise me you’ll always do right by her.”

  “I promise, Luca. On my life, I promise.”

  Did they really think this would work? Arrogant fuckers. As he drove the rental car two vehicles back from Luca’s Mercedes, Ray spotted one, two … no, three, black SUVs around them, following a discreet distance. Not discreet enough, he grinned to himself. They had no idea he was here. He’d shaved his head entirely, grown a beard, and he’d bulked up in Neri’s holding cell, having nothing better to do than exercise. Even if they checked him out as they passed, they would not guess it was middle-aged, running-to-fat Raymond Grace. He would follow them just long enough to know where they were taking Emory, then peel off before he became suspect.

  Then he would take his time to plan his final act.

  Clementine Saffran sat beside Maximo in the car, watching his face anxiously. Naples. The city where Ophelie had been murdered. Maximo had never returned to the city after she had died, and now Clem could see the journey was affecting him deeply. She held his hand and felt him trembling. His face was a mask of haunted grief, but he kept his countenance as they traveled together in the taxi.

  They were going to the apartment. Maximo had said he needed to see it, to return there, or never get past his loss. So far, they had traveled to Zurich, Paris, Rome, even back to Lima, all in pursuit of Ferdie, but no one knew where he was.

  “I can’t believe he has dropped off the face of the earth,” Maximo had raged one night as Clem tried to calm him down.

  “Sweetheart … someone somewhere must know something.”

  Maximo had stopped then and stared into space before turning to her. “You are right. We have been doing this all wrong. We need to go back, to the start. Retrace our steps.”

  Maximo had been so sure this was the right path … but now, as they approached the building where the murder had taken place, Clem could see the strain etched on his face.

  “I’m here. I love you,” she whispered to him now, and he leaned into her gratefully.

  “Grazie, mia cara,” he said in a low voice, gruff with emotion.

  At the building, they walked slowly up to the apartment. At the door, Maximo hesitated and glanced at Clem. “I haven’t been here since the day she died … and neither has anyone else since the police cleared out. I wouldn’t allow it. Her things are here. Her…”

  Clem put her hand on his face. “Let’s just go in, baby, and we’ll handle it together.”

  Maximo gave her a tight nod and opened the door. A whisper of air went through the place; dust and motes floated in the air. Silence. The apartment was beautiful, classical, with high ceilings. Maximo, holding Clem’s hand tightly, walked slowly around. Clem swallowed the tears that threatened.

  In the small kitchen, plates were stacked on the draining board—discolored from the sun that poured in through the window. She couldn’t stop staring at them. Maximo let go of her hand and walked into the living room, staring at the boarded-up French windows. She joined him a moment later, and with a glance at him, an unspoken agreement passed between them. They pried the boards off—weathered by a decade’s worth of rain, they came away easily.

  Maximo took her hand as they stepped out onto the balcony.

  “She died here.”

  Clem nodded. Old, dark bloodstains were visible in the stone floor. “I wouldn’t let them clean it up,” Maximo told her, his eyes haunted. “Ferdie threw her through the windows, then used a piece of the glass to stab her to death.”

  “God.” Clem’s throat was closed.

  “I saw the whole thing.” Maximo’s voice was distant as he recalled it. He looked back into the room. “He had hit me, hard. My legs were weak. I couldn’t get to him before he finished it … after, I crawled to her, tried to save her but she was too far gone.”

  “Oh, Maximo.” Clem’s tears were flowing now. Maximo’s own eyes were bright with tears, but he tried to smile. “You would have liked her. She was delicate, graceful, like you, but she had a wonderful sense of humor.”

  He stepped closer to her and tilted her face up to his. “I will always love Ophelie, Clementine, but my heart, now, mended and getting stronger, is yours. For all time. Never think I am too lost in my past that I cannot see our future.”

  He kissed her softly,
quickly but Clem’s heart nearly burst with love for this broken man. “For Ophelie,” she said, “I will love you with everything I am.”

  They held each other, breathing in the sultry air of Naples. From below, the noise of the city rose up, but seemed to dissipate quickly, and the view over to Vesuvius was breathtaking. Clem smiled.

  “What is it?”

  She looked up at him. “We met in Seattle, where the skyline, too, is dominated by a volcano.”

  Maximo chuckled quietly. “So, we did.”

  “Maximo?”

  The voice behind them startled them, and they both turned to see a beautiful woman, slightly older than Maximo, staring at him. He gaped at her.

  “Perdita?”

  Perdita walked into the room, staring in astonishment at her half-brother and at Clem. “Maximo…”

  For a moment, they all froze, then Perdita burst into tears and threw herself at Maximo, who gathered her to him in a bearhug. Clem stood back to let the siblings have their reunion, and Maximo smiled at her over Perdita’s dark head.

  After his sister had calmed herself, he introduced her to Clem; the two women shook hands.

  “I never thought I would see you again,” Perdita said to her brother in broken English, “not after all this time.”

  “Why are you here, Dita?” Maximo said, confused.

  “I come every week, to lay some flowers for Ophelie. I knew she would like that, and I thought, as you would not come here, I would be your proxy. Maximo … I never agreed with Papa about Ferdinand. I argued and argued, but they would not listen … in the end, I went to the polizia myself, but they were so entrenched with Papa’s influence, they would not listen. Why have you come now?”

  “Because I need to find Ferdinand. This was … a plan. A starting point.”

  Perdita looked at her brother sympathetically. “Maximo … Ferdinand is in Naples.”

  Maximo’s eyes widened, and he shared a glance with Clem. “What?”

  Perdita sighed. “He came back incognito soon after you left. He knew the polizia would not bother him, that Papa was weak. I heard from Marco Politani that Ferdie was a drunk, and one night he got into a barfight with some other men. Bragged about how he murdered a beautiful woman because he loved her too much.”

  Clem cringed, but Maximo was on high alert now. He took his sister by the shoulders. “Dita … do you know where he is? Can you take me to him?”

  “Max…”

  He interrupted her. “Perdita, please, I must see him.”

  Perdita looked at Clem, who gave her a nod. I support Maximo, whatever he needs to do.

  Perdita sighed. “Okay, then, but, please … prepare yourself.”

  She would say no more, and they followed her out to her waiting taxi cab and got in.

  Luca did not stay with them in Portland, choosing to go back to Seattle. Dante’s hideaway was on the coast, surrounded by thick pine forest and utterly secluded. The house itself was all white-washed walls and beach chic, and Emory loved it. “It’s so different from your mansion … the compound,” she intoned in a deep voice and laughed. Dante joined him, shrugging wryly.

  “I guess I should stop calling it that. Way too militaristic.”

  “That’s what I thought, those exact words. It’s way too grand to be a compound, but this…” She looked around, sighing happily, and Dante watched.

  “This is more your style, right?”

  She nodded and flopped down onto one of the large squishy white sofas and smiled up at him. “It is. Come here to me.”

  She curled into him as he sat and he put his arm around her. “Now, if the rest of the world could go away…”

  “I know. But we have to face the facts, baby. Ray is dangerous. And as superhuman as you are, another attack … next time, you may not be lucky. I won’t let that happen.”

  Emory nodded, her head on his chest. “Luca’s going to the police now.”

  “And we are staying here until Ray is found.” Dante nodded out of the window. “There’s an army out there. He won’t get near you.”

  Emory said nothing. She was more worried about Ray getting to those she loved, but both Dante and Luca told her they had made arrangements for protection for anyone Ray might come after. “We will get him,” promised Luca before he left.

  Luca … God. He was the sweetest man, and she felt wretched that he was hurting, but she could not help her feelings. The man beside her … he was her world, and she would rather be dead than be without him. She hoped Luca would one day find that love.

  “So.” Jesse took her hand and put it between his. “Now you’re looking more like you and less like, y’know, Slowpoke Rodriguez … oh come on,” he added when she looked confused at the name. “Slowpoke Rodriguez? Speedy Gonzalez’s cousin?”

  Bree looked blank. The ease with which they’d slipped back into their easy, fun relationship was palpable. They often touched, hands brushing the other’s, fingers tangling now and then. Jesse would sweep the hair away from the back of her neck and brush his lips against her cheek lightly. A smile, a glance. Bree had felt warmth slowly seep back into her bones, along with a strange new sensation. Happiness. She was shocked by how alien that emotion felt. They were sitting now at one of the little tables, the coffeehouse empty. Bree and Jesse spent so much time in here now that they often helped out behind the counter for Doogie, the genial owner, who had a newborn at home.

  Jesse sighed, grinning. “Okay, I’ll rephrase. Now that you look like you had some sleep this century, maybe we should talk about what happens next?”

  “Next?”

  Jesse went scarlet, and Bree suddenly caught on. “Dear God, Jesse Kline, please tell me you’re not proposing.”

  “Hell, no.” And then he realized he’d been too fervent when she dissolved into giggles, “Sorry, what I mean is, should we should think about…”

  “Hey, it’s my dad,” Bree interrupted him, going to unlock the door. Jesse stood as Luca came into the room. Bree hugged him, then studied her dad. “What is it?”

  Luca sighed, exhausted from the drive from Portland. “Sit down, kids. I’m afraid I have bad news.”

  Maximo followed his sister into the small cell of the Sacred Heart Sanctuary. Around them was the bleep of machinery, the huff of breathing apparatus. Ferdinand Neri stared sightlessly out of the window, his head turned towards it, the breathing tube down his throat a permanent fixture.

  Maximo stared at the man who used to be his brother.

  “Papa would not let him go peacefully,” Perdita said in a calm voice. “He said he would have to pay his penance. In the end, Maximo, Papa wanted to make amends.”

  Clem took Maximo’s hand. “What happened, Perdita?”

  Perdita looked at Ferdinand. “He tried to kill himself. Said he could not live with what he had done. He threw himself from the roof of Certosa di San Martino, but, as you see, he did not die. There is minimal brain function. He will never come out of it.”

  “Is he suffering?” Clem had to ask, because Maximo stood in stony silence.

  Perdita shrugged. “Who can tell?” She looked at Maximo. “So, you see, Maximo? He did pay his penance.”

  Maximo didn’t look at either of them. He leaned over his half-brother’s prone body. “I would tell you to burn in hell, brother, but I see you are already there.” He stood and nodded at Perdita. “Now that Papa is gone … why are you still keeping him like this?”

  Perdita smiled a little. “Because of this day. I hoped it would come, that I could give this to you.”

  Maximo’s tense body relaxed a little. “Thank you, Perdita. You can let him go now.”

  “Really?” Perdita asked the question, but Clem looked at him, the same query in her eyes. Maximo smiled down at them.

  “Really. It is done. It is over.”

  That night, on the roof terrace of their hotel, Maximo Neri asked Clementine Saffran to be his wife and she answered with a simple “yes.”

  They were married two
days later.

  Weeks passed. In Portland, Flynt, Zea, and Teresa’s restaurant opened to great reviews and full bookings. Zea was training Teresa to be a chef, to be head chef when Zea was on maternity leave, and Teresa, excited about the challenge, was proving to be a Grade-A student. So, when Zea fell sick two months into her pregnancy, Teresa told Flynt not to worry, that she could cope. Zea thanked her friend. “Terry, I do not know how I existed before you.”

  Teresa chuckled. “Smooth talker.”

  “Listen … is Mike coming to pick you up later?”

  Teresa hesitated. “Mike’s on duty tonight so…”

  Zea was alarmed. “Then take a cab … no, better still, Flynt will come and drive you home.”

  “There’s really no need,” Teresa assured her, but Zea would not take no for an answer.

  “We don’t know where Jared is or what he could do. It’ll be after midnight—Flynt’s coming.”

  Flynt agreed, but he, too, was reticent. “I don’t like leaving you alone.”

  “It’s an hour, baby. The doors have deadbolts; the security in this place is state of the art. I’ll be fine.”

  Now she was alone and lay in bed, unable to sleep, hearing every creak and groan of the apartment. She was antsy, and she didn’t know why. Something felt off; she felt … what was the word … watched. Observed. She drew the drapes, but still, there was a sense of a presence. The neighbors in the apartment block kept themselves to themselves, which she appreciated, but tonight she regretted not getting to know them, to have someone to call on, or to talk to, apart from the security guard in the foyer.

  It’s pregnancy hormones, is all, she thought to herself, getting up and padding into the kitchen for something to eat. She caught sight of herself in the huge antique mirror in the hallway, and stood, stretching her nightgown over her bump, seeing how she was doing. She still didn’t look pregnant to most people, but she could feel herself changing. “Fatty,” she chuckled to herself now, as she headed for the kitchen.