“She’s just fine.” Humor glinted in Leoni’s sleepy eyes.
Jack’s shoulders relaxed, but white noise filled his ears and his head spun. He had to sit there, straddling his captive, while he got it together. The moment of terror followed by overwhelming relief drained him more than the fight.
“This creep’s coming around. Better secure him.”
Jack roused. He still had his gun, and Leoni was handing him cuffs. Things couldn’t be all bad.
Pushing the coughing captive over onto his face, he snapped the plastic bands around his wrists. Then he stripped him of a second knife in an ankle sheath.
Jack pushed to his feet, under protest from various body parts. He touched his jaw, and his hand came away smeared with blood. Sore as hell but nothing broken. “What took you so long? I could have used some damned help a little earlier.”
“We thought you might need to throw a few punches at somebody. Ms. Rinaldi had things well in hand.” Leoni cut a meaningful glance toward his left.
Chapter 15
“Sophie, what—” Jack stared, struck dumb as a stone, at the scene in the corner.
Sophie sat on Tomasso. Correction—on top of the marble pedestal that held Tomasso down.
Leoni clapped Jack on the back. “A hell of a woman, but I guess you already know that.”
Jack couldn’t help grinning. He surmised what had happened. The pedestal apparently had done even more than distract Tomasso. It had fallen square on his lower torso and legs, knocking his Beretta away and pinning him prone to the floor. To make certain he stayed there, Sophie had straddled the pedestal and held the man’s gun on him until the task force had arrived.
If only he had a camera.
In precise phrases, she translated between the hit man and the ATSA officer. Her cheeks were rosy with excitement, and Jack fought an overwhelming urge to snatch her up and shelter her from the other men’s admiring stares.
“When we showed up, she had the Beretta’s silencer jabbed in his neck like a bayonet. I relieved her of the weapon. Don’t want to lose our prime witness.” The languid humor in Leoni’s voice eased Jack’s tension down another notch.
“They were going to kill us,” Jack said. “Looks like she wasn’t taking any chances.”
An officer helped Sophie to her feet, and two others lifted the heavy weight from the hit man’s lower body.
“He says he doesn’t think anything’s broken,” she said.
As she crossed to Jack, he noted the worry etching deep lines in her brow. Her gaze skimmed him from head to toe. She touched a finger to the dried blood on his neck and, apparently satisfied the wound was superficial, smiled.
That sweet curve of her lips curled around the muscles of his chest and blotted out the other people in the room. When he opened his arms, she stepped into them.
Leoni’s mouth twitched with a smile. Jack ignored him. He didn’t care what the damn task force thought, the CO included.
If he’d followed regs, Sophie would be dead.
Only the feel of her against his body could completely dispel the lingering fear for her. “Everything’s okay, Sophie. It’s over,” he murmured into her hair, its familiar fragrance the final reassurance he needed.
“Signora Rinaldi,” said the silky voice of Commissario De Carlo, “you did a very brave thing. You are to be commended.” With an avuncular crinkle to his eyes, he approached them as officers hauled the two Mafia hit men from the chapel.
Sophie lifted her head from Jack’s chest and edged left, but he kept her tucked under his arm. “He was going to shoot Jack—er, Officer Thorne.”
“Ah, of course.” De Carlo passed a hand over his mouth. “I see you are recovered from your injuries.”
“I’m still a little stiff, but yes.”
“And this Mafia…merdiaolo didn’t harm you? Pardon my language.”
“Grazie, I’m fine.”
Straightening to a military posture, he turned to Jack. “Officer Thorne, your independent actions have saved this young woman’s life. My apologies to you for questioning her importance to Sebastian Vadim. And for doubting your integrity. There was a leak, as you suspected. You have your friend Byrne to thank for bypassing normal channels.”
“He’s not one to color within the lines.” The exact reason Jack had called on Byrne in the first place. “The leak was somebody in Vadim’s pocket, I assume.”
“Boh!” the CO uttered in disgust. “The Venice Questura slipped up on background checks. Our leak was a filing clerk assigned to the task force. The man loses money in the casinos. Vadim paid him generously for information.”
Sophie slipped from Jack’s embrace and stepped forward. “So does that mean Officer Thorne is back on the task force?”
De Carlo made a small bow. “We shall see, signora. He and I will discuss that later.”
Jack fought down the spike of uncertainty sparked by the CO’s ominous undertone. “What will happen to Tomasso and the other man? I’d like to be in on the interrogation.”
“Assolutamente. Your country house should serve. If you will show us the way.”
“This is not a good development, Sebastian.”
“I know, Ahmed. My men experienced…difficulty. I may need a bit more time. Perhaps Wednesday.” Vadim dabbed his handkerchief across his forehead. Late June was hotter in Venice than he remembered.
Hotter still because his men in Tuscany had failed again. Worse, they had allowed themselves to be arrested.
“I can give you no more time. I want what I have already purchased. You have until Monday. No longer.”
When he heard a loud click, Vadim also disconnected.
Monday. Only two days.
This problem was Jackson Thorne’s fault. Vadim should’ve killed him the first time Thorne had interfered in his business. Fury and hatred blazed with the impact of a torch thrust into his bowels. He cursed in both Italian and Cleatian.
He was surrounded by incompetents. Sullying his hands with such messy chores was not his preference, but the unusual circumstances forced him to make an exception. He must go obtain the uranium himself.
Thorne would die, but first he would have to watch the lovely Sophie perish.
“So they won’t talk? We have nothing?” Jack asked the CO as officers handed Tomasso and the other prisoner into a task-force van in the farmhouse’s driveway.
Jack and Sophie in their rental car had led the entire party from Fiorasole for the prisoners’ interrogation. Then six hours of questioning at the farmhouse dining room table had borne no fruit, only stony silence and evil looks.
“Niente. Questo m’aggrava!” De Carlo slapped his forehead to further express his frustration.
Jack understood, both the Italian and the aggravation. He was ticked as hell, too.
The dapper commissario smoothed his thinning hair and shrugged. “Boh, I should have known. There is no honor among thieves, only fear of reprisal.”
Jack shifted his feet. He’d been waiting hours for De Carlo to follow up on his earlier promise that they would talk. Part of that talk ought to be returning Jack to the task-force investigation. He hoped. “Commissario, Sophie Rinaldi is safe here.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. This Vadim is resourceful.”
Jack’s jaw muscle knotted. De Carlo was right, but Jack needed to make his move. “Someone else can guard her. Put me back on the task force. I know Vadim. I know more about him from what she’s told me. Sir.”
De Carlo looked down at the ground as if marshaling his thoughts. The light breeze feathering across their faces carried the verdant fragrance of freshly mowed grass.
When he raised his head, he said, “You joined this task force in order to take revenge on Vadim, the man responsible for your wife’s and son’s deaths, did you not?”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t do my job.”
“Di certo. Certainly, I do not question your abilities. I simply do not want you doing more than your job.”
Wh
en Jack frowned, De Carlo continued. “Signore, as a father three times over, I understand vendetta. If Sebastiano Vadim had killed my son, no barrier would stop me. No death would be too painful for him.”
“Then you’ll put me back on the team?”
“I cannot let personal desires come first. Vadim has committed too many crimes to escape justice. You must trust the task force. There is too much at stake here.”
Jack’s shoulders tightened with frustration. He’d been so focused on Vadim, he’d forgotten the other dangers. “Like the weapons-grade uranium that’s still out there.”
“Sì, the uranium.” He glanced at the waiting car. The Alfa Romeo’s taillights winked out as the driver gave up and doused the engine. A jet trail streaked across the fading pink-and-purple dome of the sky.
“I understand.” But he didn’t have to like it. He would detour around it if he had to.
De Carlo put out his hand. “You’re a fine officer, Signore Thorne, as are the other ATSA personnel. I was skeptical at first about working with ATSA, but no more.”
“Thank you.” Even as he shook hands, the fury prowling inside Jack would give him no peace. He fought to control his words. “I need to talk with Vadim. To tell him he hasn’t gotten away with those particular murders.”
“Done. Once he is in custody.” The commissario began to walk away toward the Alfa Romeo. The engine purred to life.
He turned. “Signore, revenge is a cruel master that brings no satisfaction. Losing your family need not be the end of your life. A man, especially a man who deals with the harsher side of life every day, needs balance to have a full life. The warmth and softness of a woman, the laughter of children.”
Jack averted his eyes and shook his head. “I put my family in danger. They died because of the job. Once is more than enough.”
“Polizia everywhere have families. I have a family. There are divorces and the normal difficulties of family life, but your loss was an unusual tragedy. Do not deny yourself a basic human need. Buonasera.”
On that instructional note of farewell De Carlo slid into the idling car, then rode away.
Jack watched the disappearing taillights until he stared into only dark shadows.
Sophie looked out the sitting room window. The last task-force vehicle rolled down the drive with the control officer, De Carlo. Its taillights glowed as night winked out the last mauve tint in the western sky.
Exhaustion enveloped her like a hot towel. She collapsed on the white leather sofa in the sitting room and closed her eyes. If only capturing Vadim’s hired guns meant it was over.
But Matt Leoni had told her that neither man had revealed anything. “Vadim means nothing to them,” he’d said. “You don’t want to know what their don would do to them if they talked.”
When Jack entered the house, she opened her eyes. She watched the fluid slide of his muscles as he paced the room. Golden bristle covered his clenched jaw, and he could’ve held a pencil between his rammed-together eyebrows.
“Disappointed?” she said, at a loss for consoling words.
“Disappointed doesn’t come close.” He rolled his shoulders and flopped down beside her, his long legs stretched in front of him. He lifted her hand and threaded his long fingers with hers. “But at least you’re safe from those bums.”
“Until Vadim hires more.” Her heart gave a little hiccup at that thought, and she inhaled Jack’s comforting scent.
“He won’t have the chance.”
Hope for an end to this mess sprouted in her chest. She scooted back on her cushion to sit up straight. “Does that mean De Carlo knows where he is? You’re going with the task force to arrest him?”
Was this good or bad?
If Jack was part of an arrest unit, the company of others might deter him from going too far. Or did he want Vadim dead so much that he’d kill him without concern for himself? The rush of thoughts twisted through her, tangling in her tired brain and wrenching her heart.
He sighed. Or it might’ve been a growl. “Not exactly. We’re no closer to him. Or the uranium. And I’m assigned to continue guarding you.”
Unexpected, but a good thing if it kept him by her side. “I don’t understand. De Carlo reinstated you to the task force, didn’t he?”
“Officially. But he knows my connection to Vadim.” Jack rested his head on the sofa and barked a humorless laugh. “He appreciates what I’ve done but considers me a loose cannon.”
They sat quietly, hands linked, Sophie’s head on his shoulder, as darkness filtered through the room.
As Jack saw matters, preventing the sale of the uranium to Ahmed Saqr didn’t hinge on Vadim. The Yamari extremist was under surveillance, and officers would intercept the package.
Again the task force cut Jack out, but this time he wasn’t going to sit idly by. He wouldn’t let Vadim slip away for the sake of following De Carlo’s damn orders.
The Mafia thugs were in custody. The leak was plugged. Nobody would blab Sophie’s location. She was safe here.
Yeah, safe.
Definitely.
Some insurance wouldn’t hurt. He would take care of it.
“Sophie, I’m leaving in the morning.”
She went stiff and then twisted to peer at his face. “Didn’t you just say De Carlo assigned you to keep guarding me? Or do those words have a nuance I’m missing?”
He hadn’t meant to state it quite like that. But blunt was his style. Better to be straight with Sophie. “You’re safe here. You can call the task force if there’s a problem.”
She placed a warm hand gently on his knee. “If you shoot Vadim, that’s murder. Don’t ruin your life for revenge.”
He couldn’t give in. As much as he loved the feel of her hand, of her nearness, he couldn’t succumb to her softening influence.
Twisting away, he rose from the cushy sofa and stepped over the cocktail table as if it were a track hurdle.
From the other side he said, “You don’t get it, do you? Ruin my life? I have no life. Not since I watched my three-year-old son bleed out and die before I could reach him. Revenge is the only thing I have to live for.”
“That’s no sort of life. You’re letting what happened in the past steal your entire future.”
“You’re one to talk. You’re trying to dig up the past as a guide to your future. Like the bones of your ancestors were tea leaves or something.”
She blinked, taken aback by his retort. “Tea leaves? I’m just trying to get a clue so I’m not trapped in a life chosen by circumstances instead of by me. I want independence.”
“You’re looking in the wrong place.”
Then her chin went up, her Valkyrie face, flames of determination alight in her brown eyes. “Then so are you. You’re only—what?—thirty-two?
“Thirty-five.”
“Only eight years older than me. Young. Look inside yourself. There’s so much more than hatred and grief in you. You’re honorable and protective, for starters.”
“You still don’t get it. I promised on David’s grave. On his mother’s grave.”
“And afterward?”
“After doesn’t matter.”
“You’d spend the rest of your life in a small stone cell or in a prison of your own making. Pain and hatred, not promises, are stealing your future. Do you really think David and Tonia want you to sacrifice the rest of your life?”
Jack couldn’t answer. If he said more, he’d lose it. Fists clenched at his side, he stalked to the window and stared out at the gathering purple over the distant hills.
Behind him he heard Sophie jet out a breath as if gathering herself for more battle. The woman was relentless.
She said, “Let me tell you about revenge.”
“Italy is steeped in revenge. I know. Your story won’t make any difference, but go ahead.” The sound of her voice might get him through the night.
Until he could go after Vadim.
A bat swooped across the sky, hunting nocturnal insects. To
morrow he’d go hunting for a killer—if he could find him. He turned around as Sophie began her narrative.
“My great-uncle Vinnie lost a great deal of money in a business deal. When he couldn’t support his wife and daughter, Great-Aunt Rita left to live with her parents. Vinnie later learned the business deal had been a scam, some sort of confidence game. When he confronted the crook, he took a gun.”
“He shot the guy?”
“Right. I don’t know the details because this happened a long time ago in Florence. Somehow the case was declared self-defense and he went free. But only physically.”
“What do you mean?”
“He got some of his money back from the dead man’s estate and started over. But guilt ate at him, a nasty little monster nibbling at his soul from inside.”
When Jack realized he was rubbing his chest, he jammed both hands in his jean pockets. The image was real, too real. But he didn’t see himself in her scenario. Not the same.
“Vinnie began to drink and eventually lost everything. Rita divorced him. He never saw his child again. Not long afterward he died in a boating accident, but the family has always believed it was suicide. Guilt and grief—the added burdens of revenge—destroyed him. Great-Uncle Vinnie was my nonna’s brother.”
Head tilted and espresso-brown eyes wary, she sat quietly on the sofa and waited for his reaction.
“I understand what you’re trying to do, but the situation’s not the same. Your relative lost his family because of revenge. I want revenge for my family. And for all those other poor bastards whose deaths he’s responsible for.”
“The children and political prisoners working in the diamond mines, you mean? Well, doesn’t that just make you the avenging angel.”
His head snapped up at her snarky tone. Real anger. An anomaly in Sophie, one he was seeing more often, for good or ill. But he’d made his decision. “Like I said, I’m leaving in the morning.”
“And you think you can find Vadim when the entire task force and the Italian polizia haven’t?”
He was about to say that he had to try, but she was right. He had no idea where Vadim was. “Is this lesson over, teacher?” he growled.
Deadly Memories Page 19