Dishonorable

by Natasha Knight

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Not again.

  It was my fucking nightmare. Not reality.

  A voice came through on the line, crackling with bad reception. I turned onto the property, where the gates stood partially open, shoving them wide with the front end of my car. I gave the agent the address. Told her there was a fire. We needed the fire department. We needed help.

  I stopped the car halfway to the house.

  She asked if anyone was inside. I opened my door and climbed out, ash choking me as I looked over the destroyed land before turning to the house.

  I don’t think I answered her. Somewhere along the way, I lost Sofia’s phone as I ran to the structure, calling out her name, screaming it against the roar of fire. The front door was locked. I tried throwing my shoulder into it, the pain shooting through my side with the impact. It still didn’t give. It wouldn’t open.

  “Sofia!”

  All I could hear was the sound of fire. All I could smell was ash. Fire was burning the back of the house, and I needed to get in there. To get her out.

  I backed up, looking up at the windows, seeing one was open at the side closest to the fire. It’s where she was. I knew it.

  Without thinking, I picked up the nearest stone and hurled it at the window downstairs, smashing it. Not caring that shards of glass tore my clothes and skin, I climbed inside, the distant sound of sirens giving me some hope, even as the scent of gasoline filled my nostrils.

  She’d be okay.

  I’d find her. I’d be in time.

  I wouldn’t let her die.

  But all I could see were images from the nightmare. Hearing her. Unable to reach her. Opening the door only to find I was too late. Finding charred remains…

  “Sofia!”

  I tore my shirt off to cover my mouth and nose and ran to the stairs. Thick smoke made it impossible to see.

  “Sofia, where are you?”

  Nothing. Not from her.

  But a bark.

  I stood at the top of the stairs and looked down the hall at the last door. The one farthest from me. More barking. It was Charlie.

  The hallway seemed to grow longer as I moved, too slowly even as I charged, battling the nightmare, the demons who kept replaying that reel, over and over and fucking over again.

  “Sofia!”

  Something crashed behind me, a beam falling, the ceiling opening to the sky. Choking, I went forward, reaching the door. Charlie’s barking was continuous now.

  “Sofia. I’m here.” I touched the door handle. It burned. Wrapping my T-shirt around it, I turned it.

  In the nightmare, it was locked. It was always locked, and I had to break the door down. That’s what always slowed me down. I could never reach her in the nightmare. Not when it was my mother. Not when it was Sofia. But this time, it turned. I pushed.

  The room was filled with smoke, too thick to see through.

  “Charlie!”

  He barked, and I followed the sound to another door. Another fucking door.

  It must have been the bathroom.

  This one too opened. My heart pounded.

  Charlie sat beside Sofia, who lay unconscious on the floor. He barked and licked her face and wagged his tail briefly and barked at me again, rising to all fours, then sitting again, licking her face again and again.

  I dropped to my knees.

  Outside, lights flashed, and someone shouted orders.

  “Sofia?” I touched her face, slid my hand to her chest to feel her heartbeat. I don’t know if it was ash or smoke or what that had my eyes blurry, but I picked her up. Charlie barked at my feet and followed as I covered her mouth and nose with my T-shirt and ran down the hall, fire raging inside the house now. When I got to the stairs, I backed away. Too late. I’d have to find another way. Back to the room where I’d found her, I went to the window and leaned out, breathed in the fresh air. I called out to the men below. Two fire engines and three police cars stood parked below, and in the distance, an ambulance was driving up to the house.

  The instant they saw us, they raised a ladder. One of the men climbed up.

  Sofia moved in my arms, choking, coughing. I looked down at her and couldn’t help smiling just a little.

  She was alive. I wasn’t too late. She was alive.

  “You’re here.”

  A fit of coughing stopped anything more she would have said. When the firefighter reached us, I handed her to him. He hoisted her over his shoulder and descended the stairs. I looked down for Charlie, who’d gone back into the bathroom, backing as far from the approaching fire as possible.

  Someone yelled for me to get out, but I ran back in, grabbed the sheet off the bed, and wrapped him in it, holding him to me. An intense heat had me running back toward the window, and, with Charlie bundled in my arms, I climbed out and down.

  They pulled the ladder away from the house and trained their hoses on it, raining water down over it.

  I went to Sofia, who was lying on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance with an oxygen mask over her face. Her eyes opened and closed, and she reached a hand toward me. Someone brought a bowl of water for Charlie, and I set him down to drink.

  Sofia sat up and pulled the mask off. She looked at the house behind me, then looked to me.

  “Raphael?”

  That was when everything hit me. All of it. The fire, the timing of it, the destruction of Guardia Winery—because it was destroyed—the loss.

  The near loss of her.

  I stumbled and gripped the door of the ambulance to steady myself.

  Was this Moriarty’s work? Was this the form his vengeance took?

  Was this what I myself had planned to do? Had thought I could do?

  “Raphael?”

  I turned to see tears streaming down Sofia’s face.

  I drove myself to the hospital two hours later, when the fire was finally under control and no longer threatened the adjoining properties. They’d given Sofia a sedative after checking her out, so she was asleep when I got to her room. She’d be fine. I was in time.

  Stepping out of her room, I first called Lina to tell her Sofia would be okay. She already knew about the fire. Of course she would. The manager would have called her grandfather as soon as he heard. After reassuring Lina that Sofia would call her as soon as she was awake, I dialed another number, a man I knew who had ties to the police department, who’d done some investigating for me in the past. I wanted to know if the police ruled it arson. I’d smelled gasoline in the house. That meant someone had intentionally set the fire. I also told him what Lina had told me and asked him to confirm. That Marcus Guardia was the one who’d been this close to buying Villa Bellini. After that, I went into the hospital room to wait for her to wake up.

  I sat on the chair beside her bed for the next few hours, watching her sleep, still smelling the fire on her, on myself. I’d almost been too late. If Lina hadn’t called, if I hadn’t heard Sofia’s cell phone and woken up, Sofia would have died up in that bedroom. That thought kept me from sleeping until almost dawn. It had me looking at her, watching the monitors measuring her steady heartbeat, making sure she was really okay.

  The feel of her hand on mine was what finally woke me later that morning.

  “Hey,” she said.

  I straightened myself up, rubbed my face, and checked my watch.

  “Hey.” My voice came out hoarse and groggy, much like hers.

  “Thank you.”

  Why did I think it was a strange thing to say? And what should I say back? Turned out I didn’t need to reply. She spoke before I could.

  “Charlie?”

  “He’s fine. Damon picked him up and took him home.”

  She smiled, then her face grew serious again.

  “Is it gone?”

  “Yeah.” I hated to be the one to tell her. “Everything is pretty much destroyed.”

  She nodded. “How did you know I was there?” she finally asked.

  “You’d for
gotten your phone, and your sister kept trying to call you. It woke me up, and when I realized you were gone, I scrolled through your phone and found you’d called a taxi. It didn’t take me long to get the address they took you to.”

  “My sister!”

  She tried to sit up but then lay back down again.

  “I have to call her.”

  “I already did. Relax. You can call her later.”

  “Thank you. Again.”

  She tried to sit up again, and this time I helped her, adjusting the bed and pillows at her back.

  “You shouldn’t have left.”

  “I couldn’t stay.”

  Awkward silence.

  “I guess it was all for nothing, huh?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t have to marry me after all. My inheritance is up in smoke.”

  I studied her pretty caramel eyes, watched them fill up with tears, watched her hold them back.

  “Oh, wait,” she continued. “Insurance. I guess you’ll be paid off with insurance money.”

  There were a hundred things I could have said. I should have said. Things like “I’m sorry.” Or “I didn’t mean what I said.” Or “I love you.” But I didn’t say any of those things. Instead, when my cell phone rang, I looked at the display and left the room to answer it.

  It was the investigator. “You were right,” he said. “Gasoline canisters were found throughout the property. The person who set this fire wasn’t hiding the fact that this was arson.”

  “Which rules out Marcus Guardia.” I wouldn’t put it past him to destroy the winery, so I wouldn’t get my hands on it. So he could cash-out. But he would be careful to hide the evidence.

  “And what the girl told you is right. Marcus Guardia is using the German company as a cover. He’s the one who put the bid in on your house.”

  I’d told Moriarty the other day that I had a buyer. That he wouldn’t get the property because I’d already sold it. Could Moriarty have known all along that it was Sofia’s grandfather? Could this fire have been set to punish the old man?

  “Thanks. Keep me updated, will you?”

  “I will.”

  When I opened the door to Sofia’s room, I found her sitting on the bed with her phone at her ear, her forehead wrinkled as she listened.

  “Lina, are you sure?”

  The concern I heard in her voice made me curious. She met my eyes then shifted her gaze away.

  “Okay. Okay, I have to go. Let me think about this. I’ll call you back.”

  She hung up and looked at me a bit awkwardly. I wanted to ask what she’d been talking about with her sister. It had obviously upset her. But I didn’t feel that I could. A few minutes later, her doctor walked into the room to tell us she’d need to take it easy but that she would fully recover.

  “When can I leave?” she asked.

  “Later today,” the doctor said. “I’ll sign off on your paperwork.”

  “Can I fly?”

  The doctor seemed confused, so I stepped in. “You’ll stay at the house while you recover, Sofia.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing.” I walked out with the doctor to discuss a few things. When I returned, Sofia sat on the bed, her face unreadable.

  “I need to ask you something,” she said.

  “Ask.”

  “Was it an accident?”

  I studied her. Truth. I’d promised her truth. I’d already broken that promise once. I wouldn’t do it again.

  “No.”

  She swallowed, blinking several times, and looked away for a moment before returning her gaze to me. Her voice had an edge to it when she next spoke.

  “Did you have anything to do with this?”

  I snorted, shook my head, and quashed the emotion bubbling in my gut. The hurt at her accusation. “I never wanted you dead, Sofia.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sofia

  Arson.

  Somebody had deliberately set the fire that destroyed Guardia Winery.

  Two weeks had passed, and the information Raphael had received from his source was confirmed by the official investigator. My grandfather had arrived the day following the incident. He hadn’t brought Lina with him. I hadn’t seen him yet, although I would later today. I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to look at him, knowing what Lina had told me. What she’d found. Evidence of what Raphael had told me about Grandfather’s transfers of money. More than that, more information that would leave the business vulnerable if it ever got out.

  I didn’t tell Raphael what Lina told me. He took good care of me while I recovered, spending time with me during the day, having dinners in my room sitting beside me on the bed. When he touched me, it was tenderly, but nothing more than that. Not once did we talk about what had happened at the chapel. It felt like the elephant in the room, but neither of us brought it up. As much as I longed for him to tell me what he’d said in the chapel wasn’t true, I didn’t want to lose the moments I had with him.

  Raphael had told me what Lina had told him about my grandfather, that he was the one who’d put a bid on Villa Bellini. That Raphael had almost signed everything over to him.

  I didn’t understand. Was this the land Grandfather had said he was buying for me? To keep in my name for when I lost everything? Was he going to steal Raphael’s home right out from under him just as Raphael had stolen half of Guardia Winery from us?

  An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. It all gave me a headache.

  Today, Raphael was going to take me to the winery to see the damage for myself. Then, we had a meeting with Grandfather and his attorneys about the state of things.

  At the winery, we drove as far as we were allowed to go, which wasn’t very far, since the investigation wasn’t yet closed. I climbed out of the car with Raphael at my side.

  “Oh, my God.”

  The damage, it was unbelievable. The lands—all that remained of the bursting, healthy vines were their charred remains. A burned smell still hung in the air, and the house itself was rubble. One wall remained partially standing, and yellow tape cordoned off the area. It was still considered dangerous.

  “I remember the smell of our house afterward,” Raphael said.

  “I can’t believe this. What a loss. What an incredible loss.”

  I shuddered, and I thought for a moment that Raphael raised his arm and hoped he meant to wrap it around me, but then he stuck his hands awkwardly into his pockets.

  “Who would do this?” I asked.

  “Only one name comes to mind, Sofia.”

  “Moriarty.”

  He nodded.

  “But why? What sense would that make? Wouldn’t he then be better off to set the Amado property on fire?”

  “You said your grandfather and Moriarty had some interest in the same property. I wonder if that was my property and Moriarty threatened your grandfather if he didn’t pull his bid.”

  “He said that day we had lunch that Moriarty had told him the property he wanted wasn’t in his best interest to buy.”

  Raphael looked out over the land but didn’t answer.

  I remembered something then. “Wait a minute.” He turned to me. “The manager told my grandfather they’d installed a new security system. Is it possible there would be some video recording of that night? Maybe we could see who did this?”

  “The house is destroyed. I can’t imagine anything would have survived the fire. If it had, I’m sure the police would have the evidence by now. I’m sorry, Sofia. No matter what, I never wanted this for you.”

  We returned to the car and drove to Siena to meet with two attorneys and my grandfather. The offices were in the center of the touristic city in a building that dated back hundreds of years. We were quickly ushered in. Once inside, I found my grandfather, still proud but looking a little more tired, sitting at the head of a long table. Two men sat on either side of the table, going over paperwork.

  They all looked up when we entered.
The look my grandfather gave Raphael chilled me.

  “Sofia,” he said, standing. “Raphael.”

  He barely nodded in Raphael’s direction. He introduced the two attorneys, one of whom was American, the other Italian. They both set their business cards on the table.

  Once we sat down, one of the attorneys started talking, going over our options now that the crop was a total loss, as well as the details of the insurance policy.

  “But since arson is the cause, everything is…tied up,” my grandfather said.

  “Any suspects?” Raphael asked.

  “No. Do you know any?” Grandfather countered.

  “Grandfather,” I said. Now wasn’t the time.

  He closed his mouth and let the attorney continue. Basically, we spent an hour going over the fact that we had nothing, not until the insurance company paid out. Even the house in Philadelphia was in question.

  I guess I hadn’t realized the extent of this loss. It had never occurred to me we’d go from having everything to having nothing. I wondered if that had been what had aged my grandfather, because he did look older, his suit a little wrinkled, his hair not quite perfect.

  “Gentlemen, would you step outside for a moment, please?” my grandfather said to the attorneys.

  What?

  Both men nodded, clearly knowing this was coming. They shuffled out of the room. Raphael cleared his throat, his gaze never leaving my grandfather, the suspicion in them evident.

  Once the door had closed, Grandfather picked up his briefcase, which he had had alongside him on the floor, and set it on the table. He opened it and took out a large envelope, set the case aside, then looked at us.

  “Raphael, you understand forty-five percent of nothing is nothing.”

  “The property was insured.”

  “Yes, however, with the arson investigation, nothing is clear.”

  “Are you saying they can decide not to pay?” I asked.

  “Well, it’s a large amount of money, so they’re using whatever they can to hold off on paying.”

  “Because it was intentional,” I said, understanding. “They think it was done by someone who would stand to gain by a large insurance payout.”