by Lowe, Anna
“We need to protect existing nesting grounds and restore those that have been compromised…” Cara went on.
Nesting grounds, his lion agreed. I like the sound of that.
Of course, the beast meant a whole different kind of nest — like a cozy home for him and his mate. They could make love whenever they pleased, watch sunrises and sunsets, and—
He threw the brakes on there and went back to Cara’s grand plans.
“All that will take a lifetime, you know.”
“It will take more than a lifetime,” she agreed. “But it’s like the cathedral builders of the Middle Ages. Every engineer, every stonemason, every carpenter — they all knew they would never see the project completed in their own lifetimes. But they had faith that it could be done, and they took pride in their part in it.” Then she sighed. “Unfortunately, most folks don’t think that way these days. You have to remember that each step might not be so significant, but when it all comes together…”
She trailed off, gazing over the lagoon, and Tony could sense her transforming the view. Instead of a lone gull, there would be dozens of shearwaters skimming over clear, clean water. The boats would be smaller and slower, and the throngs of tourists would be better controlled.
Cara’s chest rose and fell in a wistful sigh, and his did too. Was it all a fantasy? Maybe.
Still, a man could dream.
Which was exactly what he must have been doing when he caught Cara looking at him a minute later.
“What?” he asked.
“Just wondering.”
He tilted his head, waiting.
She chose her words carefully. “I helped Fiorina because I’m close to the family. You’re not, and yet you risked everything — twice — for her.”
He shrugged. “It’s what we do.”
“We, who?”
“The Guerrieri.”
Cara studied him. “I know guerrieri means warriors, but something tells me you’re saying Guerrieri with a capital G.”
“You can say that. It comes from way back in the Settecento — the eighteenth century.” He waved around, imagining the city in its heyday. “Lots of parties, lots of affairs… And lots of unwanted babies as a result. Most were abandoned at convents — some of which even had scaffetta for that purpose.”
“Scaffetta?”
He drew a circle with his hand. “A rotating drawer to place a baby in, so the mother could remain anonymous.”
Cara’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Not so noble of the nobility, eh?” He motioned downstairs. “Even high and mighty Guardians did this. But they recognized the danger in abandoning children with powerful shifter blood. Not that they cared about the children — only the problems they might create when they grew up. So, they made sure those children received special training. That’s how the Guerrieri started, centuries ago.”
“Warriors,” Cara whispered.
He nodded. “An elite class of warriors. The Guardians’ private army, you might say.” Then he made a face. “Theoretically, my ancestors and Ercole’s could have been half siblings. But they still stick up their noses at us.”
“So, why serve them?”
He shook his head. “We don’t serve them. We serve Venice. When those things overlap, the Guardians favor us as servants of their will. When they don’t, we’re treated as outcasts.”
Cara scowled. “Who you’re born to doesn’t matter. Only your actions prove who you really are.”
Tony warmed, because the fierce glow in her eyes said, Yours have certainly proven who you are.
Yours have too, he wanted to say.
But the longer they gazed into each other’s eyes, the more his body warmed, and the words faded away. Most of his surroundings did, too, until all he heard was his lion humming a low, yearning note.
She is my mate.
“Cara? Cara?” Fiorina called.
Tony blinked, and Cara did too.
“I’m coming,” she replied, leaving him with a last, longing look.
Tony stood there a full minute after Cara disappeared down the stairs, hoping she would come rushing back. To talk…to touch…or maybe even to kiss.
Kiss, his lion murmured dreamily.
But she didn’t, and the sounds of the waking city slowly registered in his mind. Delivery boats chugged up the canals. Street cleaners swished brooms over sidewalks. The last of the traditional fishermen headed to market with their smelly catch.
Rolling his shoulders a few times, he forced himself to focus. His primary mission was protecting Fiorina. Amore would have to come second, no matter how much it pained him to admit. But maybe there was a way to serve both purposes. After all, he and Cara would be working together.
Still, if danger struck again…
He pulled out his phone, composed his thoughts, then dialed.
“McKenney,” Lachlan, the Highland dragon, grumbled through the other end of the line. When Tony identified himself, Lachlan groaned. “Do you know what time it is?”
Oops. Tony had forgotten Scotland was an hour behind. His friend was probably still snoozing in bed after a night of making love to his mate.
His lion heaved a huge sigh. Amore.
But that only bolstered his resolve. If uptight, love is an illusion Lachlan could live the dream, so could he.
“Sadly, duty calls.” The moment Tony uttered the words, he questioned himself. He felt a sense of duty, but to whom? Certainly not the Guardians.
To Fiorina, his lion immediately replied. To Cara.
Another reminder that he needed backup, and soon.
“I won’t be back to Scotland as soon as I thought,” he went on.
Lachlan laughed. “Is it the weather or Duncan’s bagpipes that’s keeping you away?”
“Maybe I’m tired of taking orders from a bunch of dragons and poetry-spouting unicorns.” Tony chuckled, then turned serious. “I mean it, though. I’ll be staying in Venice for a while.”
The line went silent as Lachlan digested the news. He didn’t know all the details, but he knew Tony had taken a big risk in returning to Venice.
“Is that a good or a bad thing?” the Scotsman finally asked.
Bad, Tony thought, knowing how much he was up against.
Good, his lion contradicted, picturing Cara.
“I’m not sure. But I’m not in jail…yet.”
“Yet,” Lachlan echoed, not too helpfully.
“I’ve taken a bodyguard job, but I need help. A neutral party. Someone I can trust.” He forced a little chuckle. “You and your lovely mate don’t feel like a second honeymoon in Venice, do you?”
“That bad, eh?” Lachlan murmured, growing serious.
Tony deliberated between yes and no. He didn’t want to pressure his friend, but he really could use help.
“I’m probably being overcautious. And I understand if you can’t come. But can you think of anyone else who might be available?”
“There’s Heath…” Lachlan started.
Tony perked up. Heath would be perfect — a bear shifter and the sole Canadian in their Foreign Legion company. Like Tony, Heath had done his ten years. Unlike Tony, Heath had embraced his new identity.
“Wait. Heath just took a job in Alaska.” Lachlan thought a moment, then came up with another name. “How about Theo?”
Tony snorted. “Didn’t he go home to finally collect his inheritance?”
That was the main reason Theo had joined the military in the first place — to satisfy the last clause keeping him from inheriting a vast fortune. Over the past years, the millionaire playboy had transformed into a humble legionnaire, but what was to keep Theo from slipping back into his old ways?
Lachlan laughed. “He did make us promise to keep him honest. Let me give him a call.”
Tony’s hopes rose. Like Lachlan, Heath, and several others, Theo was a brother-in-arms Tony could trust with his life.
“Is he back at home in Greece?” Tony asked.
“In Greece, yes. The question is, which home? The penthouse in Athens? The villa on Corfu? Or maybe he’s lounging on a luxury motor yacht in the Cyclades. But don’t worry — I’ll track him down.”
“You think he’ll come?”
Lachlan chuckled. “Believe me, this is exactly what Theo needs. I’ll be in touch.”
With that, the line clicked off, leaving Tony wondering what the future would bring — an unfamiliar feeling. Throughout his ten years in the Foreign Legion, he’d just soldiered along, moving from assignment to assignment. But this was different. More personal, more immediate. A young girl’s life was on the line…and frankly, so was his heart.
He took a deep breath and headed for the stairs. It was time to begin another hardworking day.
Chapter Ten
Cara twisted the oar in her hand and looked back at the Guardians’ palace. “You think Fiorina will be all right?”
Three days had passed — the most tedious of Cara’s life. Lots of meetings, lots of time with Fiorina. In fact, she never left the girl’s side. Cara loved Fiorina like a sister, but she pined to get back to work out in the lagoon.
Still, Fiorina needed help, so Cara had stayed. Doing so gave her insight into the Guardians’ working style — and frankly, everything she saw confirmed the warnings passed down from her great-grandmother.
Stay away from shifter politics — especially in Venice. Believe me.
On the one hand, the Guardians truly seemed concerned about the future of Venice. But there was more talk than action. Lots of posturing, deliberating, and pushing decisions off to the next agenda. All that was multiplied by ten or twenty, given all the committees and subcommittees they ran. There was a security council. An outreach committee that communicated with the Guardians of Rome, Florence, Genoa, and locations across Europe. An architectural committee. An education committee…
All in all, it was the most top-heavy organization Cara had ever seen. She couldn’t help but comparing it to Venice itself — a city sinking under its own weight.
Fiorina suffered gamely through it and even put up with her overbearing aunt, Ismerelda. Like Cara, the woman accompanied Fiorina to every meeting and appointment. Unlike Cara, Ismerelda constantly prompted Fiorina on what to say, do, and even eat. It was well meant, Cara was sure. But, whew.
The only meetings Fiorina seemed to enjoy — or actively took part in — were those of the arts committee, with its discussions on preserving Venice’s masterpieces, supporting art galleries, and grants for special projects.
As for Cara, she’d had her hopes pinned on — then dashed by — the environmental committee, with its utterly superficial, outdated agenda. Otherwise, the only highlights of her days were mealtimes — and seeing Tony.
He came and went, not saying much about the investigation he was carrying out — something to do with a French countess who’d left Venice after the masked ball. What that had to do with the attack on Fiorina, Cara wasn’t sure. But she didn’t have a chance to ask, nor did she care to. Not when they had precious little time to spend together, and none of it alone.
But finally, three long days after the ball, they found a chance to get away. Just the two of them in a gondola borrowed from Grazia for a quick trip to Cara’s apartment for spare clothes.
Still, Cara glanced back at the Palazzo Rigoni. “Are you sure Fiorina will be safe?”
Tony sat in the middle of the gondola, looking toward the Guardians’ palace. “With my friend Theo there, yes.”
Cara laughed. “As a bodyguard or a chaperone?”
Tony frowned. “Both. Maybe bringing in my cousin Rocco wasn’t such a good idea.”
Cara grinned. The idea had been to recruit trustworthy guards for Fiorina rather than palace insiders. And as a bodyguard, Rocco was absolutely capable. However, Tony’s cousin was a lot like Tony — big, tough, and handsome as sin. But Rocco was ten years younger, which put him in Fiorina’s age bracket. The moment he and Fiorina had met, their eyes started glowing, and neither had been able to get a full sentence out.
Amore, Cara had nearly chuckled. Love at first sight.
Unfortunately, that distracted Rocco from his guard duties. On the other hand, amore helped keep Fiorina’s mind off her worries, too.
Cara stroked steadily along. “Well, if it’s love, it’s love. Who are we to mess with that?”
She’d meant it as a half joke, but when her eyes met Tony’s, her inner lion echoed the words.
If it’s love, it’s love. Who are we to mess with that?
She gulped and dragged her eyes away, telling her lioness to quit purring inside.
It’s not love. We just met, she insisted. More like an overreaction to extreme circumstances.
It’s destiny, her lioness hummed.
Was it? All she knew was that something about Tony made her soul sing. He treated her as an equal — a refreshing novelty in the city of Casanova. When he listened, he really listened, as if there was nothing more important in the world. And when he looked at her — well, her body heated along with her glowing eyes.
She cleared her throat. “You really think Theo won’t stand out after his grand entrance?”
Tony sighed. His Greek friend — a tall dragon shifter with striking green eyes and shoulders a mile wide — had arrived in Venice within forty-eight hours of Tony’s call. Cara had expected him to arrive by plane, train, or even ferry. But no. Theo had shown up in a sleek, sixty-five-foot sailing yacht.
And not just any yacht — his yacht.
Hardly inconspicuous, Tony had commented dryly.
Theo had shrugged. Are you kidding? It’s the smallest one I have.
Apparently, the man was heir to a fortune worth billions, and he dressed the part. Everywhere he went, women turned their heads.
But if Cara worried about the attention Theo drew, Tony hadn’t been concerned.
In Venice, a dozen millionaire playboys make their grand entrances every day. But the minute you turn into a lowly guard, no one pays attention any more.
And he was right. The moment Theo had stepped into the Guardians’ palace, he’d switched to no-nonsense soldier mode. He’d managed to fade quietly into the background, though his watchful eyes never ceased inspecting faces or tracking sounds.
Cara paddled a few more strokes, then looked back. Fiorina needed protection, but she needed familiar faces too. Was it selfish to take a break?
Tony laughed. “You’re like a mother hen.”
God, she loved seeing him smile. Somehow, it seemed like a rare thing. So rare, she couldn’t help but grin back.
“The way you were like an overprotective father?”
He chuckled. “Allora, maybe I was a little too hard on Rocco.”
Her laugh echoed down the canal. “A little?”
When they’d left Theo and Rocco to guard Fiorina, Tony had practically growled at them. Don’t let her leave the palace. And don’t even think about messing around with her. She’s too young.
His younger cousin had laughed. What are you, her father?
Tony had thumped a finger against his cousin’s chest. The. Next. Best. Thing.
Cara grinned at the memory. Fiorina had ended up with a damn fine team of bodyguards. Still, it was probably a good thing the canal was so narrow. Otherwise…
“Don’t even think about turning back,” Tony said, reading her mind.
“Just feeling guilty, I guess.”
“For leaving Fiorina for an hour?”
“For wanting to leave. For wanting to get back to my job and my life.” She sighed and paddled onward. “There. I said it. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
It was a joke, but even so, he made it sound like an eternal vow, making her warm. Then he nodded toward her oar. “Guilty is me sitting here while you do all the work.”
She shook her head. “I love rowing. I need it, too, in a way. You know, to unwind.”
Tony looked like he knew j
ust how she felt, though she guessed his means of unwinding might involve a punching bag or heavy weights.
“Besides, this is where the magic of Venice is — the canals, the side streets. Plus, it’s good exercise.”
“You sure know how to handle an oar.”
Her laugh echoed up the walls of the buildings rising five stories on either side of the narrow canal. Up past lines of laundry, past the leaves sticking out from a lush rooftop garden, past the soothing notes of an operatic pop song playing on Radio Ribelle, the local station.
“Family tradition. My dad and most of my uncles are boatbuilders. They specialize in making regular rowboats, but they’ve made a few gondolas too, just for kicks. A gondola in the Great Lakes — it’s quite a sight.” She laughed. “I rowed in college too — a totally different type of rowing, but still. If you have shoulders like mine, you might as well put them to good use.”
He smiled, and his eyes wandered over her body, telling her he liked what he saw, including her sturdy build. Then he jerked his gaze away, making her love him all the more. Unlike some cocky men, Tony knew where the line lay between admiring and leering.
“My great-grandfather’s side of the family were gondoliers here in Venice,” she continued. “I guess it’s in our blood. My sister runs the business end of the family boatyard, and one of my brothers runs the rental branch of the company…”
He grinned. “Family business, huh? I picture a pride of lions taking a midday nap in the sun.”
“I’m the only lion.” When he cocked his head, she went on. “My great-grandmother was a lion, but my great-grandfather was a dragon shifter. Quite the scandal in their day, from what I hear. Their kids were all dragon shifters, as are all the shifters on the other side of my family. I’m the first lion born in years.” She sighed. “Lucky me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You wish you were a dragon?”
I wish I could fly, she nearly said.
Instead, she faked a laugh. “And trade my nice, soft lion pelt for leathery skin? No thank you.”
Tony’s eyes sparkled as if he was hit by the very same out-of-nowhere vision of the two of them in lion form, nuzzling intimately. She would wind her neck around his, relishing the feel of his thick mane. Meanwhile, Tony would gently push back, rumbling with pleasure…