Caro felt a chill run down her body at his frank words.
“Yeah, I know,” she said, “but remember, whoever it was, already killed Toni.”
“We don’t know that for certain.” Flynn’s voice was even, steady. “But I promise you, I’ll look into all this, on the Rome side, personally. You just take care of that nephew of mine. He’s kinda special to us all.”
“I know.” Caro swallowed the lump in her throat. “I will.”
“And thank that sister of Nick’s, Officer Sullivan, for me, please,” Flynn added.
“Her name’s Gia, and she’s the best. You’d like her, Flynn. She’s as hard-ass as you in a different way. She barely knows us and she literally put her life on the line for Toby. I’m forever in her debt.”
“It’s what she signed up for,” Flynn said dryly, “but yeah, we’re all in her debt.” He sighed, sounding tired. “Got to go, Caro. Bring that boy home the moment he’s fit to fly. His grandmother needs to catch up on some serious mollycoddling. See you soon as.”
And he was gone.
Caro let her head fall back against the chair, the phone on her lap. Had there ever been a more tense twenty-four hours? Was last summer’s crazy worse than this?Jesus, they’re neck and neck in mother fear, anyway, she acknowledged.
Caro closed her eyes, exhausted. Toby was asleep upstairs in their bedroom, assigned by Rosa. He was tired and uncomfortable but he was okay. He was better than okay. He was alive.
Nick was in the kitchen with his father and brother, poring over all the documentation from Toni’s stash. She and Nick had decided that several heads were better than one when it came to figuring out what Toni was trying to tell them. Rosa was in the kitchen, too.
Cooking.
She cooked, it seemed, when she was stressed. There was a lot of cooking going on in there and Caro felt so guilty that she’d brought all this pain to the Sullivan family. If she’d never gone back to Rome to look for Toni, none of this would have happened. Their daughter wouldn’t be upstairs in her bed resting with a bullet wound, for goodness’ sake.
“Stop.”
Caro didn’t open her eyes as Nick rested a hand on her head, slid it down her cheek. Instead, she turned into that hand, letting it cup her face. Feeling his warm fingers stroke her face felt like she was being cherished. Silly, maybe, but there you are.
Her shoulders slumped on a sigh.
“Seriously, stop,” Nick repeated. “I know what you’re doing, this is not your fault. Somebody started this a long time ago and you, yes, you,” he smiled slightly as Caro peeped at him from lowered lashes, “are going to be the one who allows it all to be finished.”
In an easy movement she didn’t see coming, he scooped her up and switched places with her, and she landed snug on his lap, his arms wrapped around her.
“But—” she began.
He placed a finger against her lips, brushing it gently back and forth.
“But nothing. This needs to be done. We need to find answers. Antonio and Valentina have a right to know what happened to their son. You have a right to know why Toni behaved towards you the way he did and you absolutely have a right to know who would harm your son. And you.”
His brows were drawn together in that concentrated look of his. His thumb was stroking her lower lip, sending highly ill-timed feelings tingling through her body. She couldn’t regret them. They felt too damn good. She shifted on his strong thighs, nestling her rear a little more snugly. He groaned. Ah-ha. She smiled. It was the good kind of groaning. He narrowed his eyes at her. She opened hers wide – all innocence.
“Stop distracting me.” His voice was raw. “I’m trying to make you feel better.”
“Oh, you are,” she whispered. “You do, you absolutely do.”
Her words were silenced as his mouth took hers in a kiss that spelled hunger, desperation, desire. His lips moved over hers with a command that she hadn’t felt before. He tasted, took and tasted some more. Caro had felt so brittle, so scared, so unsure, and now all she wanted to feel was Nick’s consuming need for her. She wanted to put aside, just for a moment, all, well . . . everything, and just feel, absorb and take what he was offering.
God! that man knew how to kiss.
His tongue was making her insides perk up and take notice. She was throbbing in places she didn’t know could and Jesus! if he didn’t touch her now, she just might explode on her own.
Nick read her body like a well-thumbed book. One hand held her jaw, steadying her as he ravaged her mouth some more, while the other hand got busy doing the touching things. Her breasts, her hardened nipples, her aching thighs, he didn’t ignore a thing.
“Nick, your parents . . . ” she gasped as his mouth left hers to nibble on her neck. “They’re in the next room . . . we can’t. Oooh, God!”
His stealthy fingers had found their way down to where she needed them the most and they had a most excellent teacher. She pushed into his hand, aching, rubbing, needing release. The man was bringing her to orgasm in his family’s living room, on a chair, both fully clothed, and his parents just a few metres away. His mouth was back on hers, kissing, kissing, kissing, and it was explosive. She was close. She couldn’t, wouldn’t resist. She needed to feel, to be alive, to release all of her tension and boy! had she picked the very best way to do it.
“Nick, God . . . Nick, I . . . oooh, yes, there, just there . . . ”
She spoke garbled words against his lips, wriggling, positioning herself against his skilled fingers, and Nick responded wordlessly.
Within seconds she shuddered and her gasps of desire, captured by his mouth, made his own groans all the hotter. He was as turned on by her response as she was. Win-win.
Breath heaving, Caroline’s head fell back on his shoulder, her face flushed, eyes glazed. A smile of pure satisfaction touched her swollen lips and Nick felt a surge of power flood him.
This. This was what he wanted to see on her beautiful face every day. Every day for the rest of their lives. True, he was realistic enough to realise it wouldn’t always come from great sex, but he vowed to put a smile on her face every day because . . . well, because he needed to. A ball of tension in his chest began to unwind as he placed kisses on her forehead, her breathing returning to normal. He needed her in his life like he needed air.
She got him. Understood how he worked, what made him tick.
And she made him want her with a fierceness that he’d never experienced before. And he got her. Was beginning to understand her unwavering loyalty, her generosity, her absolute commitment to finishing what she started. He was realising that her funny quirks and expressions were what made him the happiest. The way she thought important things through but also just said what was on her mind in the moment. He believed in her innate honesty and damned himself for ever doubting her before.
Knowing her now, how could he ever have imagined she’d have tried to con anyone? And the way she was raising her son? Well. Somewhere in the back of Nick’s mind he knew he wanted kids. It wasn’t something he’d ever dwelled upon, but like many men his age, he’d assumed it would happen at some stage.
An image of Caroline’s swollen belly, their child growing inside, an infant with her amazing eyes, a brother or sister for Toby . . . filled his mind and Nick felt his heart overflow. He needed to tell her how he felt and God, he hoped he was reading the signals correctly. If Caroline didn’t love him back he was screwed. Done.
Gathering her close, he pressed his lips to her hair, breathing in her scent. Now, he needed . . .
“Nick!” his father’s voice hollered from the kitchen. “I think we’ve found something.”
Nick groaned. Shit timing, Dad.
“Be right there,” he called back, extricating himself from Caroline’s softness.
He kissed her swiftly on her mouth and hauled her to her feet.
“Go,” she said, straightening her clothes, her cheeks still a rosy blush. “I’ll pop up and check on Toby. I’ll catch you in a
bit.”
She stopped then, her eyes on his, searching, as if she was going to add something else, but instead she shook her head and headed for the stairs.
Damn and blast. Nick felt the opportunity pass and took a deep breath as he walked in to join the others and see what they’d found. Christ, he hoped it was of value, because he sure as shit didn’t know how any of this business was going to pan out.
“You’re going to need to see this,” his father said solemnly, handing Nick a single sheet of paper, black ink scrawled across the surface. “I found it hidden among his car insurance papers, for all the world like he didn’t want it to be found. Ever. Read it and you’ll see why.”
Nick skimmed the almost illegible words, paused, met his father’s grim eyes and reread it slowly.
“I hope this isn’t true. On every level, I hope to God this isn’t fucking true!”
Caro hugged Toby one last time and stepped back. How was she supposed to do this? Where was the rule book for this one? Time to put your big-girl pants on and deal. Promises, bargains, some threats – sort of jokingly – were made as mother and son parted ways. By the time she flopped back in her seat on the plane bound for Rome, she’d convinced herself that leaving Toby with his grandparents in Ireland was the best, the safest, for him. For her sanity.
For the di Lucas.
And she had no clue what was facing her when she landed. Nick had point-blank refused to tell her what his father and brother had found – he’d said he couldn’t – it was an invasion of privacy.
What the fuck?
Whose privacy?
And hadn’t hers and Toby’s been invaded enough? She was furious with him and the sneaky bastard had been gone the following morning – without a bloody word. An emergency at the hotel in Rome, her hosts told her, and he’d given instructions to Naomi to sort all their flight plans however she, Caro, wished.
Caro had been all Sullivaned out by then, so she and Toby flew back to Ireland that same evening. Toby had been cleared to fly and Caro admitted that despite the warm and loving welcome they’d received in New York, she needed her own “warm and loving”, Fitzgerald-style.
She and Flynn had a long discussion but nothing was solved. Whether he knew stuff and wasn’t saying, or he was as blank as she was, she couldn’t tell. But that was Flynn’s specialty. Even his nearest and dearest found it hard to read him, to get information from him, to rattle him. All Flynn would say was that the investigations – several strands of them – were ongoing and all she had to do was be careful. And responsible. Oh! and not go out and about on her own.
Well, hell.
Rome was beautiful in the frosty air as she walked briskly from the bus station to the taxi rank. The golden buildings were shimmering in the clear light and it was as magical as a moonlit night in autumn or a sultry evening in the heat of summer. Damn, but it was a pretty city. One where she could see herself and Toby living, if she were honest. But that was before that blasted Nick Sullivan had cut her out of their teamwork without a word.
Well, she couldn’t live with a man who didn’t trust her. Not that he’d asked. Or not that she’d really expected. But there’d been a moment – a real, honest moment back on the sex magnet of an armchair in the Sullivan family room. He’d been about to tell her something and she’d been this close to telling him she’d fallen in love. Thank God for interruptions because, seriously, how stupid would she feel right now! They’d been getting so close, she hadn’t imagined that, she knew she hadn’t. And now this. Nothing. Well, he was going to get a piece of her mind, that much was damn sure.
The di Lucas were thrilled to have her back but terribly upset Toby wasn’t with her. Caught left-footed, she had no idea what Nick had told them about Toby’s “incident” and its origins, so she just papered over it with lies and half-truths. That didn’t sit well and her blood pressure was rising towards boiling by the second.
“Damn this for a load of shite,” she muttered and headed to the attic.
There had to be more information up there in one of the many other tea chests full of Toni’s belongings. She’d find some answers without Nick’s help, thank you very much. Armed with her anger and precious little else, she climbed the narrow stairs to the heavy door.
Huh.
It was slightly open. That was odd.
No one came up here but her and she was positive she’d locked it behind her when she’d left for the wedding. She paused, an icy chill running along her spine.
Gah! Too much melodrama in her life, creating invisible threats where there weren’t any.
Still. No harm to be cautious.
She moved silently up the last few steps, becoming aware of mumbled voices from within the attic space. What to do? Oh hell, she thought. It has to be someone in the family, I’ll be fine, and she crept closer.
It was Italian voices, of course, and she took that second to let the language settle on her before she actively listened. It sounded like Tommaso and, surely not, Elena? What would they be doing up here? Tommaso rarely came into the main house, having his own quarters to the back of the palazzo, in a kind of annex. And as for madam herself, Caro found it hard to believe Elena would even know where the attic was!
“We need to find the evidence, Tommaso – now. You must keep looking! Nick is getting suspicious. And the local police said they want to reopen Toni’s accident. Of course I instructed Marianna to tell them no, but she is weak, so weak. How she is a daughter of mine, I do not know!”
Elena’s voice was brisk, severe and impatient, and Tommaso’s response was muffled, as he must have turned his head. The sound of boxes being shoved and scratching across the ground followed by irritated exclamations indicated their furtive search was not going well. Evidence of what? Caro strained to hear some more but only caught snippets.
“Stupid Americans . . . ”
“Idiots . . . ”
“What Toni may have kept . . . ”
More mumbling and a grunt from Tommaso as he hefted a box.
He shouldn’t be lifting at his age, Caro thought abstractedly as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. Which Americans were stupid? Toni’s family there? Well, the good thing was, Flynn must have got through to the police in Rome and they were reinvestigating Toni’s accident. That was good, surely?
“It is useless,” grunted Tommaso. “I can find nothing. He must have put the medical report elsewhere.”
“Why didn’t you find that out before you had him run off the road, you buffoon! Do I have to do everything myself?”
Elena’s voice was filled with vitriol and Caro landed her bottom on the top step before she even realised her legs had gone from under her.
Holy God. It was true. Toni had been murdered! And by Tommaso. And Elena? Why?
Caro’s anguished cry must have alerted the couple inside, because a voice shouted out, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”
Caro took a deep if unsteady breath and thanked the heavens she’d kept up the subterfuge of her very limited knowledge of Italian. She was busted now, but maybe she could talk her way out of this . . .
The door to the attic swept wide and a livid Elena stood bristling at the entrance.
“What do you want?” she demanded, speaking in English when she saw who it was.
“Oh, you startled me!” Caro put her hand to her heart, a convincing demonstration of her surprise. There was very little acting to be done. Caro was way more than startled. She was terrified. “I didn’t know anyone was up here,” she continued. “I was just going to collect some of my notebooks that I left here from before the holiday. Am I disturbing you? I didn’t know you came up here.”
She didn’t care where they went – she just wanted them gone from here.
“I’m pretty familiar with all the box contents,” she added bravely, thinking that’s what a person who hadn’t heard their damming words would say. “Can I help you to find anything?”
She tried for innocent and helpful but w
as acutely aware that she sounded like a scared rabbit. Not a million miles from reality, to be fair. She stood on shaky legs, hoping her knees wouldn’t give way. She made as if to take the last step, when Elena blocked the doorway.
“Now, it is not convenient. You may come back at a later time. Better that way.” And she stood there. Like a sentry.
Okay, then. Probably just as well.
Caro wasn’t sure she could be in the same space as the woman and she needed time to digest what she’d heard. A few of the words were unfamiliar to her and she needed to replay them in her mind to see if she could decipher the meaning.
“Sure. No problem. I’ll get my stuff another time.” She turned to walk downstairs, her heart hammering in her chest. “No problem at all,” she said again as she rounded the turn in the stairwell.
Don’t-run-don’t-run-don’t-run, she whispered to herself even as her pace kicked up. Reaching her own small office, she slammed the door behind her, bracing her back against the closed door.
Was it true? Could Toni’s own mother-in-law have arranged to have had him killed in a supposed road accident?
Sweet mother of God.
Slowly, she slid down the door and propped herself against the wooden frame. Her hands were shaking, she noted as she went to grasp them around her knees. What to do? Her instinct was to phone Nick. No.She should call Flynn. She wasn’t talking to Nick, she reminded herself. But, God, she really could do with his steady, even, calm way of dealing right now. She could do with him holding her close and fixing things.
But she was on her own and she’d sort it out.
Resting her head on her raised knees, she replayed the conversation she’d overheard in her mind. Just breathe, she reminded herself, and let the words come. And they did. Several of Tommaso’s almost unintelligible mutterings came back, as did some of Elena’s more spiteful words. Certificati di nascita, gruppi sanguigni, legittimità, eredità. She was talking birth certificates, blood groups, legitimacy and inheritance. It wasn’t pretty and it didn’t bode well.
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