“You’re right. I’ll stay here and rest. My head still hurts. When will you be back?” She already had a plan.
“After twelve o’clock.” He rose and grabbed his cell from the desk. “We can continue with our search when I return.”
“Good.” She rose clumsily and kissed him on the cheek before ushering him to the door. “I’ll be ready when you return.”
Damn straight she’d be ready, but first, she had work to do. She took a shower, spread ointment over the scrapes, gulped down more aspirin, and retrieved the Rome phonebook from a drawer in the nightstand. Last, she dug out the English-Italian dictionary from her purse.
Quinn poured another cup of coffee then sat in the middle of the bed with the phonebook and the dictionary. She looked up the Italian word for “hotel” … duh, it was “hotel.” That was easy. The phonebook contained fourteen pages of hotel listings. She’d get through as many as she could before Logan returned. He wouldn’t happy about her calling hotels in Rome asking for Rebecca. But it was quicker than visiting each one in person. And, too bad if he didn’t like it — he wasn’t her boss or her father or her whatever.
She opened the phonebook and set to work. Using the dictionary, she asked Parla Inglese? If they didn’t speak English then Sa dirmi se Rebacca Holland is a ospite? Can you tell me if Rebecca Holland is a guest?
She began calling at the top of the list, then decided to contact every other listing. That way she’d cover the alphabet faster, haha, like it would give her a better chance of hitting the right hotel. She left a message at each hotel with Logan’s cell number just in case someone remembered a guest who might be Rebecca.
The coffee urn was empty before she hit the second page. It was slow going and after two hours, she was batting zero. Her efforts were frustrating, yet Quinn clearly understood her chance of locating a hotel with Rebecca as a registered guest was one in a million — the same as finding her at a monument or on a street. She scooted off the bed, stretching her legs a bit before standing. She hobbled at first but the stiffness wore off the more she paced. As long as she kept moving, she’d be okay.
What would she do if she were in Rebecca’s position? First, she would have gone to a location more secluded than Rome and certainly less cosmopolitan. But Rebecca was in Rome. Quinn could feel it in her gut and she had to locate her. There was no other choice.
Perhaps Rebecca registered under another name, an alias, like her friend Nancy Sims’s name or the name from the slot competition in Vegas. What was it? She thought back to the Paris Casino and slamming into the cocktail waitress. They talked to the security guy and Logan made that stupid comment about PMS. Quinn snapped her finger, Holly Roberts, that was the name.
She checked her watch, not yet eleven o’clock. She had a good hour and half before Logan returned. She retrieved both the phone and the phonebook off the bed and plopped them on the desk. Maybe the chair would help her back and lady luck would throw in a dose of good fortune.
EIGHTEEN
Rome, Tuesday
A taxi waited for Logan at the hotel’s entrance. The ride to the Embassy gave him a few minutes to review the past few days. He smiled. Quinn was a whirlwind going ninety miles an hour, and a hot one at that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so intrigued by a woman. A woman who was four years older, had grown children, and would soon add grandmother to her list of roles. The HCU theft did have a bright side, and that was meeting her.
His initial distrust had evaporated slowly, like the morning fog over a Louisiana marshland dissipating with the first rays of warming sunshine. If she were the thief, she would never have shown him the Gregory James email message. And when Billy had her checked out, nothing came up.
She had no idea of his interest in her. Sure, it was out of his normal comfort zone. He’d never, ever fallen, no not fallen, teetered on the edge of the cliff so quickly. He had to give it to Gram, though. She had told him more than once that when the right woman appeared in the landscape of his life, he’d know it immediately. Gram was right. That didn’t make it any less discomforting. He rubbed his jaw, maybe the right woman had finally come along. Billy would be laughing his ass off if he knew. Roddy, too.
If Quinn knew, she’d be laughing as well. She had a blockade around her heart the size of the Great Wall of China. She had this silly idea that she was a disaster at relationships. Just because her ex-husband was a jerk didn’t mean she was a bad picker of men. Logan was certain she was fighting with herself.
He had seen desire in her eyes a couple of times before her brain took over. That kiss last night had been phenomenal and her body knocked it out of the park. He’d keep chipping away at her wall, even consider it a challenge. Logan had no problem with that.
The U.S. Embassy was the same as yesterday, lines of people waiting to get inside for visas, U.S. Marines guarding the entrance. He showed his ID and went through the metal detector before entering the building. He was in Agent Brown’s office in less than five minutes.
“Bob, long time, no see.” Logan shook the agent’s hand.
“Ain’t that the truth? You’re the last person I expected to see yesterday.” Bob motioned for Logan to take a chair.
“Sorry for the surprise. Coming to Rome was a last-minute decision.” Logan smiled lamely. “But how have you been? It’s been what, ten years since we worked together in DC?”
“Life is great. Enjoy the job here and I’m engaged.” Bob pointed to a picture on his desk. “Getting married this Christmas.”
“You old dog,” Logan said with a grin. “You’re the last person I’d imagine tying the knot.”
“We’re not getting any younger. What about you? I assume Miss Wells isn’t your girlfriend.”
“I’m working on that.”
“No kidding. She doesn’t know you worked for the Bureau?”
“No, and I don’t know how to tell her.” Logan shrugged.
“I doubt she’ll be happy you kept it from her.”
“She’ll be pissed as hell.” Logan didn’t even want to think about it. Quinn would be beyond furious She had no idea he’d done a background check on her or that he had law enforcement experience. She was so damned cute when she talked about doing surveillance. He’d simply make her understand that she had been in charge of the search for Rebecca, not him, and, that his interest in her was the real deal. Dammit, he’d make her understand. “What have you found?”
“I’ve spoken to both the police and FBI offices in Houston. They’re certain that Rebecca Holland is the thief.”
“She’s one bitch of a woman, and clever.” Logan grimaced.
“That’s putting it nicely,” Bob said. “Her apartment has been searched. Nothing from that yet.”
“Any confirmation from the Swiss bank on the account name?”
“Not yet. You know how the Swiss are. They close up shop faster than a raided whorehouse.”
Not only was Rebecca a nasty bitch, she was a smart bitch. “Did you get a positive ID on her arriving at the airport?”
“We checked the security cameras. There are a couple of people who might be her. We don’t know if she’s changed her appearance. But we’re trying to track down the two women.”
“What about hotels, taxis?”
“Yep, that’s covered, too,” Bob said. “We believe she’s still in Rome.”
“At least we’re making progress.”
“That we are. I trust you and Miss Wells will continue to enjoy the sights of Rome and let us do the searching,” Bob said.
“Quinn is hell bent on finding Rebecca.”
Bob stood, shook Logan’s hand. “Well, old buddy, you’re gonna have to keep her busy with something else.”
NINETEEN
Tuesday, 12:40 P.M.
Oops, Quinn quickly replaced the phone as she heard a
key turn in the lock. Logan must be back. She threw the phone book in the desk drawer and rose, composing a smile on her face.
“Hi, Logan, how was your meeting?”
After shutting the door, he surveyed the room. “It was fine, the usual. Did you rest?”
“You bet. I’ve been, uh, sitting around, taking it easy.” That was mostly true.
He narrowed his eyes briefly, then smiled. “Good. How are you feeling?”
“A little sore, but good to go.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m ready.”
“Let’s go then. We have a reservation.” He opened the door.
“Where?” She gathered her purse, swallowing a wince, and walked in front of him. His answer to her question was a pat on the butt as she passed him. She wasn’t sure the pat was appropriate but let it go. He was so damned earnest.
He intertwined his fingers with hers in the elevator. It felt good, as though she had an anchor.
They hailed a taxi outside the hotel and headed in the opposite direction of yesterday morning. Being a nosy girl, Quinn pulled out the tour map. Logan shook his head.
Was it a crime for a person to know where she was going?
Her best guess fixed their destination as the Coliseum. She wouldn’t spoil Logan’s surprise and kept her speculations to herself.
She was right; the taxi stopped along the street in front of the monument. She nearly skipped as they walked to the ticket office.
“Did you know the Coliseum was completed in 80 A.D.?” Quinn asked as they waited in line.
“How do you know that?”
“From a movie … can’t remember which one.”
He chuckled and kissed her temple, then purchased their tickets.
An elevator whisked them from the ground floor to the upper level. This was the level holding the expensive seats back in the gladiator days. From the circular aisle surrounding the amphitheater, stairways led upward to less privileged rows of seats. Every surface was travertine stone. Half of the outer wall was gone — damaged in earthquakes and pillaging of the stone and bronze for other Roman buildings.
The actual floor was gone, revealing narrow troughs, now overgrown with grass and weeds. The passageways had housed animals and humans in a waiting area, before they climbed up to the arena floor. Guess a gladiator would have been in a fix if he were claustrophobic.
They spent two hours trudging over every available walking surface, hoping to run into Rebecca. One clone sighting was the only excitement. They had no better luck touring the Forum.
Logan suggested they visit the Victor Emmanuel monument. It was just up the street and very popular with tourists. After a ten-minute walk, they stood on the sidewalk and stared at the site, built to honor Italy’s first king.
“Holy cow, this is something else,” Quinn said.
“No kidding. I’ve not been here before,” Logan added.
Known as the “wedding cake” due to its ultra-white marble, this mammoth site housed Italy’s Tomb of the Unknown Soldier with an eternal flame. Quinn declined to climb two hundred forty-two steps for a grand view of Rome. She sat on the base of a column facing the street while Logan wandered along a wide corridor toward the monument’s interior.
She soaked in the ambiance of Rome and the sunshine for a few minutes. While studying the people around her, she noticed a woman standing near the street. Her stance seemed familiar. The woman stood next to a man. Quinn rose and made her way toward the busy street, moving around tourists while keeping the man and woman in view.
A white sedan arrived and the couple stepped toward it. Quinn tried to move faster but was blocked by a baby stroller and an irate mother.
“Rebecca, stop,” she shouted.
The woman turned her head toward the monument as she entered the car. The door shut and the vehicle moved into traffic. Quinn ran a few feet into the street as the car changed lanes and sped up.
“Damn, I’m sure that was Rebecca.” She turned around to hunt for Logan. She found him coming down the stairs and explained what had just happened.
“Don’t go after her alone again. She could be dangerous.”
“She’s not dangerous,” Quinn said. “She’s a black-hearted thief. Should we call Agent Brown?”
“Let’s hold off for now. Did you get the car’s license plate number?” he said.
“I didn’t even think of that. How stupid on my part.”
“Most people don’t think of it either,” Logan put an arm over her shoulder. “At least we know she’s here and playing tourist.”
He mentioned stopping for an early dinner. Logan seemed to enjoy planning Quinn’s social calendar. He was considerate too, as they walked slowly. The soreness in her arm and back continued to lessen, so long as she kept moving. Although regular doses of aspirin no doubt helped the cause.
She soon spied the Pantheon and had a good idea of their location. Logan led her to a small “diner” in the corner of the piazza in front of the monument. A red door led to the restaurant. They settled at a table situated in an inner courtyard. The sky was almost dark and subdued lighting provided a canopy of intimacy.
Logan once again ordered Quinn’s meal and it didn’t bother her. If nothing else, they had food in common. That led her to an entirely new train of thought. Was it possible for her to truly have much in common with a man as fantastic as Logan? She couldn’t imagine the two of them fitting each other. The fact they enjoyed the same food and wine was a coincidence, not a declaration of being soul mates.
He suggested dessert and Quinn declined. Since she wouldn’t be able to run for a few days, she didn’t need the extra calories. They enjoyed a leisurely stroll back to the hotel. Her legs were better for the exercise and her shoulder almost felt normal.
Logan suggested they stop at the hotel bar for a nightcap. She waved him off to the bar then went directly to a computer cubby to check her inbox. There were one message, from Roddy.
He yelled at her for running off to Rome, thinking she was the HCU version of Wonder Woman, and for dragging poor Logan into her half-assed shenanigans. Whatever, Logan was a big boy. He said they were certain Rebecca stole the $25 million; he’d provide the details later. There was no evidence linking her to Bill’s murder. He didn’t mention Scooter’s death.
Quinn joined Logan at a small table in the bar with an excellent view of the lobby.
“Since we declined dessert and its calories, I’m feeling bold. How about champagne?” Logan said with a lopsided grin.
She thought about that for a moment, glanced at her watch. Eight o’clock. Oh, what the hell. She had nothing better to do and a glass would help her sleep.
“When in Rome, do as the Romans.” She said, a warm glow filling her chest. “Champagne sounds perfect.”
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One hour and one bottle of champagne later, Logan locked the door of their room. He stood perfectly still, his back against the door. Quinn sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.
A window had been opened by the maid and a breeze blew in sounds of the night — faint voices on the street below, an occasional car engine, music from the bar on the corner. Moonlight lit the carpet between them. He couldn’t see her face but he could hear her breathing and smell her perfume. She rose from the bed, faced him.
They met in the middle. She placed a finger on his lips. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
Her touch had the sizzle of a lightning bolt. He took her finger and licked it, then released her hand. He stepped back, giving her space to escape from his reach. She remained still while he studied her face. He sensed a battle raging in her. After a moment, the confusion cleared from her eyes, she moved forward and leaned into him. Her tongue flickered across his closed lips.
She stepped closer, her breas
ts pressed against his chest, while her arms circled his neck. His head was spinning. His arms enveloped her slender body while her gentle kiss told him she was on board for his more than roommates plan. He couldn’t hold back a second longer. His lips crushed against hers, his tongue darting into her mouth. She tasted like fresh rain, like roses, like the woman he loved.
He wanted more. He ached to run his hands over every inch of her body yet he imagined what Quinn might be thinking and sought to neutralize it. “Let’s not analyze what’s happening between us.”
She moaned in reply. That was all the encouragement Logan needed. He backed her slowly toward the bed, his arms on her shoulders, a grin splayed across his face. The only thought in his mind was getting Quinn naked as quickly as possible.
After a couple of steps, she hesitated, pulled away from him. “Wait, let me catch my breath.”
Logan’s heart stopped and he couldn’t think or breathe. Quinn sucked in air. Her eyes locked into his. He waited for her to say something, to do something, to tell him to go to hell.
After a beat, she took his hand in hers, her lips curved into a gentle smile. Logan’s heart fired again, like an engine revving for the Grand Prix. Relief and anticipation swept through him.
“Come to bed with me,” she whispered.
He pulled back. “Are you sure?”
She nodded and moved closer to the bed. “Here we are.”
“Yes, here we are.”
“Maybe we should talk for a minute,” she said.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. He sensed her hesitation. “Let’s not worry about anything but this moment. Right now, all I want to do is kiss you.”
Logan picked her up in his arms then gently laid her on the bed, her head rested on the pillows. He settled beside her. He bent an arm and propped his head in his hand. His other hand brushed a strand of hair off her cheek then trailed along her jaw line to her neck.
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In Hot Pursuit Page 18