From Italy With Love

by Jules Wake

  Cam looked at his watch. It had been twenty minutes. So she was being stubborn this morning, was she? Nothing he couldn’t handle. He called the waiter over and ordered a second coffee. She wasn’t to know that he had no intention of drinking it but if she turned up now, she’d get the message that he knew she’d be back. Two could play at her game.

  When it got to half past and his second coffee had been drained, he started to scan the road more regularly, waiting for her to return. Things always took longer than you thought they would, he reminded himself. She’d probably only just got as far as the outskirts of town, and might have got lost trying to find her way back again. He listened out for the roar of the Ferrari’s engine. How stupid − that would always be a give-away. He’d hear her coming. He crossed his legs and smiled to himself. He’d pretend to be miles away when she finally did turn up. Her face would be full of indignation and ire, blue eyes flashing with irritation. His imagination ran away with itself and an image of plump pink lips, slightly open, came to the fore. His groin tightened in response, remembering the tiny mewling noise she made when he touched her just as she climaxed. God, he was rock solid. He took a mouthful of cold coffee and tried to think about the car. He should have checked the oil this morning. Looked at the tyre pressure.

  After nearly an hour, he began to start to worry. He checked his phone. No calls. Surely she’d have called if there’d been a problem. But not if she was unconscious or dead. In an accident. He sat up pushing the coffee cup aside with an abrupt flick of his hand. Shit, what if she’d had an accident?

  Damn it, he had to call her.

  There was no answer, it just clicked straight to voicemail. That raised more questions. Was her phone switched off? Had it been damaged or destroyed? Was she trying to call him?

  Where was she? Trying to programme the sat nav to come back? What if someone had hijacked her and the car? The car was worth a fortune. It wasn’t exactly surreptitious. Anyone along their route could have spotted it and decided to follow them.

  He looked at his watch again. Only a minute had elapsed but his mind had gone a hundred miles an hour. When had his imagination become so fertile? There were a million simple explanations and just as many equally horrific possibilities. The coffee in his stomach roiled and for a moment he felt sick. He tried her phone again but still it went straight to her voicemail asking him to leave a message.

  With a terse message, he slammed the phone down on the table and looked at it balefully for a moment before snatching it up again. He stabbed out a text message.

  Where are you? Get in touch so I know you’re safe.

  He went back to the hotel after an hour. There’d been no message, no nothing. Where the hell was she?

  He logged onto the internet on his laptop. He looked at the map and today’s itinerary.

  Shit, had she really called his bluff and left him? Surely not? She wouldn’t attempt the rest of the trip on her own. Not this leg. Please not this leg.

  He studied the map more closely, calculating. Driving at their usual pace … shit, shit, shit … he traced the route with his finger. His eyes narrowed and goose-bumps rose on his forearms and he stilled.

  She wouldn’t. Would she? Blood rushed in his ears as the map went blurry. The Stelvio Pass, one of the most challenging pieces of road in the whole of Europe, possibly the world.

  He grabbed his phone and tried her number again. Still no answer but then that was hardly surprising. There probably wasn’t much of a signal up there in the mountains.

  He slumped on the bed. What now?

  He half-laughed at himself. She had some guts. Served him right but she’d left him stranded in Europe with no transport.

  The spectacular scenery was unavoidable but she kept her eyes firmly on the road, enjoying the freedom of having the car to herself and determined to hold the stupid tears at bay. She could rev, change gear and if she messed up a gear change, there was no one there to see. Especially not Cam. It felt liberating. Before the roads began to climb and get really challenging, she let the engine roar and sped along well past the speed limit. Would Cam approve or disapprove? Thankfully traffic was light, so she didn’t have to worry about anyone else on the road … or what Cam might say.

  The crystal blue of the sky seemed to go on for ever up here in the mountains and with the window wound down, she could breathe in the fresh air which almost tasted sharp it was so clear.

  Leaning back into the seat she felt like she’d got into the groove. For the first time, listening to the noisy throb of the engine and the slight rattle coming from the driver’s door, the little list of the steering wheel, it felt like it was her car. She got it. She understood what Cam felt about this car. And why did the bloody man keep intruding in her thoughts?

  Shit, she’d lost her temper. She never did that. Ever. Biting her lip, she thought of Cam’s face. She hadn’t intended to leave him stranded … but she’d been so mad. Running on instinct, she’d climbed into the car and driven. And driven. And driven. Until there was no turning back.

  Tears blurred her eyes. She had to stop, she couldn’t keep on driving. Not like this.

  Stopping at a roadside café, the type Cam would have immediately approved of, she grabbed a cup of espresso. She needed her wits about her.

  The first couple of sips of coffee helped stabilise the tears which still threatened to well up. Gazing at the mountains looming above, lush and verdant with green, she sighed.

  She’d fallen in love with the Ferrari and quite possibly and totally stupidly Cam.

  The car she could explain, she adored the way it made her feel, how it drove and what it symbolized. Out in the tiny car park, she could see people taking a second look, prowling round its sleek lines and inspecting every design feature.

  Bursting with pride, she grinned, watching the scene. Sod Cam, behind the wheel she was invincible, she could drive for ever. Her and the car, a partnership. It was her freedom and her future and like the panorama around her, had endless opportunities and directions.

  Cam wasn’t so easy. Sublime sex had muddied the waters. Those pin-up looks had pulled her in to start with but there was so much more. Kind, easy going, his perception, that ability to look at the bigger picture, his hands on her body. OK so that was just chemistry … but in just a few short days, he’d made her feel more than she thought she could ever be. Just thinking about him … made her heart feel as if it might burst.

  But he obviously didn’t care that much. Checking her phone again, her heart pinched in disappointment. No call or text. Probably glad to disentangle himself so easily. He’d made it pretty clear he was running scared of any kind of commitment. Arrogant git. Commitment was the last thing she wanted right now.

  Abruptly she put down the coffee cup, she didn’t want it. She’d rather get back on the road. Normally she and Cam would take at least an hours’ break, today she just wanted to keep on driving. Keep on driving forever. Get as far away from Cam and everyone else as possible. Just look out for number one for a change.

  Grabbing the keys, she abandoned the coffee and threw herself back into the leather bucket seat, blasting out of the car park with all the finesse of a boy racer. Tough, she thought, accelerating hard and roaring past a Lamborghini.

  During the long slow climb up along the mountain ranges, her mind had been so preoccupied, she’d failed to notice how busy the road had got or how the clouds had closed in. Weird. Suddenly there seemed to be lots of other high performance cars, motorbikes with serious engines that buzzed like super bees and road cyclists. The severity of warning of the road signs seemed to have ramped up significantly and ominously. Some sixth sense sent adrenaline racing through her system. It felt as if she were on a fair-ground ride she knew she wouldn’t like but it was too late to get off.

  Stelvio National Park, read the sign. It rang bells. What had Cam said when they were heading to Honfleur. Forty-eight hair-pin bends.

  At the crest of the hill, she gripped the steering wh
eel, ready as she rounded the bend. Beyond it the hillside fell away below, the road a grey ribbon of terrifying looking twists and turns that went on and on.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ she whispered. The first hair-pin bend was on her and she was wrestling with the steering wheel trying not to look at the drop below.

  Chapter 22

  Cam paid the taxi driver and walked over to the squat white building hauling his leather bag onto his shoulder. He gave a grim smile. Madam was going to get one hell of a surprise, he thought as he nodded to the guy in the office there.

  ‘Monsieur Matthews?’

  ‘Yep, is Patrice here?’

  ‘Oui.’ The man pointed out through the open door.

  He could just make Patrice out over on the other side of the field.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hey mate, how’s it going? You owe me big time for this.’

  ‘I figured I might. Got the flight plan logged.’

  ‘Yep. Although the weather’s not looking great in the mountains this morning.’

  Cam shrugged. ‘Worst comes to the worst, we’ll just take the short route. But if we can I’d like to follow.’

  ‘So this chick has … what, stolen your car?’ Patrice’s craggy face twisted in unholy glee. ‘Liking her style. No one gets one over on old Camshaft.’

  Cam rolled his eyes and gave Patrice the finger.

  ‘It’s her car. I was babysitting.’

  ‘Not doing too great a job, then.’

  ‘Yeah, I got that. All I need you to do is fly the route, so I can spot her and make sure she’s OK.’

  ‘You mean make sure she hasn’t put any scratches on the bodywork.’

  Cam frowned. OK, that had crossed his mind but the bigger worry that was that Laurie would lose her nerve half way down the hair-pins. He closed his eyes. Shit. He hated that bloody road. Although she’d proved herself as a driver, she wasn’t that experienced and this road was one hell of a challenge for a novice.

  ‘I just want to make sure she hasn’t driven off the road.’

  ‘What you gonna do if she has?’

  The knot in his stomach tightened.

  ‘This ain’t the cavalry. You’re not expecting me to land down there?’

  Cam twisted his mouth wryly. Not Patrice, no. Not without remuneration. This flight was costing a fortune as it was. He was one mercenary sod. But Cam would make him if he had to. With his bare hands. His fists clenched under his thighs.

  What would he do if he spotted the silver splash of crumpled metal dashed down on the rocks of the mountainside, the image of which had been fixed in his head for the last few hours? The only thing keeping him calm was the fact that faced with all those hair-pin bends she was sensible enough to take them slow. Yeah, Laurie didn’t take risks. Or at least she didn’t used to. And hopefully the traffic would be heavy enough to prevent her opening up too much. This time of year the SS38 was a tourist mecca, no knowing how many bikes and motorbikes she’d encounter.

  The chopper took off, wheeling away from the mountains before settling back on course. Cam gave the thumbs up to Patrice, even though his stomach felt as if it had taken flight too. Thank God for having good connections. He’d been this way many a time to Italy, although the route Miles had suggested wouldn’t have been his first choice. There were other equally impressive mountain passes with a lot less traffic on them, although the Stelvio pass was the one everyone talked about. It made for a good story. He hated it with damn good reason. If the weather was on your side, for an experienced driver, it was easy enough. Try it before the pass closed for the winter and it could be treacherous. He’d been caught one nightmare time and he’d never done it since. That’s when he’d smashed up his shoulder and a perfectly good car. Which Miles knew, damn him. That had been the clincher. Miles had known there was no way Cam would let Laurie attempt the pass on her own, without an experienced driver.

  Shame Miles hadn’t known his niece as well as he thought he had.

  Cam looked down at the roads below. At least the weather was on his side. He was hoping they’d spot her before she hit the pass, overtake her and then he could flag her down. With luck he might spot her on a coffee break. She might have stopped. Then again, it was Laurie. She got the job done. All he could do was pray she’d made it in one piece.

  Think positive. With good weather in the mountains, he could catch up with her and be back in the Ferrari with her this evening.

  Below them the road snaked back on itself and looking down he could see the cars, although there was no sign of the little silver roadster.

  Patrice handed him a pair of binoculars and spoke to him through the headphones.

  ‘Any sign of your chickadee?’

  ‘No and she’s not my chickadee, she’s … just a job.’ And God would strike him down for the lie.

  ‘So …’

  ‘I don’t mix business with pleasure,’ growled Cam as if saying it out loud made it true. Laurie shouldn’t have been a whole heap of trouble and he couldn’t believe that he was now chasing her across bloody Italy. This was supposed to be an easy job, escorting her to Italy. And it would have been if he hadn’t gone and messed up by sleeping with her and … caring for her.

  The chopper ate up the miles, being able to fly directly as opposed to zig-zagging back on itself like the road below.

  There was no sign of the Ferrari, although there were plenty of other high performance sports cars, along with chains of cyclists and speedy, black ant motor-bikers zipping along leaning at terrifying angles into the bends. God, it was like petrol head central. Of course it was. Down to him, he’d have insisted they got up with the dawn and headed out as soon as the sun rose to get ahead on the road.

  ‘Gonna have to return to base soon, Cam,’ shouted Patrice.

  ‘One more loop,’ he yelled back above the ferocious whirl of blades above them.

  Shit, where the hell was she? Had she chickened out? Changed her mind? Had he missed her? Had she turned back to come get him? What if she were driving back to England? No surely not. He tried to put himself in Laurie’s head. No, she wasn’t a quitter. He smiled in spite of himself. Actually she was pretty darned determined. No, there was no way this road would beat her.

  He gave Patrice a wave.

  ‘Can you head to Bormio?’

  ‘Yeah but I can’t land there.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. I just want to make sure she got there in one piece.’

  ‘You think she’s already there.’

  ‘Well she’s not gone over the side anywhere, so I’ll assume the best.’

  Of course she was already there. She had to be. She just had to be.

  Her head rested on the steering wheel. Every muscle in her body felt so taut that any second now something could go ping and she’d collapse like a puppet without strings. Forcing herself to move, she opened the car door and swung her legs out, hanging on to the frame to haul herself upright. Jelly had substituted knees and her legs felt as spindly as spaghetti, rather appropriate now she’d crossed the border into Italy. She gazed back up the mountain, at the grey zigzags cutting into the green mountainside. Good lord, had she really just driven down there? With an oomph she sagged against the car, wide-eyed and trembling at the achievement while feeling shattered and slightly sick.

  Other drivers crossed to her, pumped her hand, patted her on the back and admired the car. A couple of men made low-grade flirtatious overtures but it was all very good natured and part of the general air of camaraderie.

  Like a bubble swelling, she felt the elation grow and grow. This was quite something. Her mouth stretched into a mile wide grin. She’d really done it. One of the most difficult drives in the world and she, Lauren Browne, had done it. All by herself.

  ‘Woohooo,’ she screamed to the open car park and punched the air. She’d done it. Who’d have thought it?

  A smattering of applause rocked around her but she was too pumped to feel embarrassed.

  Stuff Cameron. Stuff Robert.
Stuff her mother. She didn’t need any of them.

  Sinking to the floor beside the car, she stared up at the hillside, waiting until normal service resumed in her legs and then she straightened up still grinning at the awesome view.

  She was on the home stretch now. Not far to Maranello at all. She could be there in four hours if she put her foot down.

  Five minutes later, he was ready to bloody kill her when he got hold of her, however for now it was enough to know she was safe. A circuit over the medieval town of Bormio confirmed that Laurie had indeed made it one piece. You couldn’t miss the shape of the car or the admiring crowd around it.

  For the first time that day, Cam was able to stop the constant tapping of his right knee. Tomorrow, he’d hire a car and catch up with her in Maranello … and then tan her hide and kiss her senseless.

  ‘OK. You want to head back?’ yelled Patrice above the reverberations of the helicopter blades.

  ‘Yeah. All good.’

  Chapter 23

  His shoulders rigid with tension, Cam checked into the Hotel Candide.

  Scooping up the keys to his room, he asked, ‘And can you tell me what room Miss Browne is in? I’m supposed to be meeting her here.’

  The pretty Italian receptionist smiled at him as if she’d put two and two together and made a romantic four. He maintained his pleasant smile. If she guessed what he really wanted to do to Laurie, there was no way she’d give him her room number. Her polished pink nails tap tapped over the keyboard and her smile faded.

  ‘I’m sorry sir, we have no one by that name staying here.’ Her face was questioning, still trying to please.

  ‘Are you sure?’ With a head start on him, she should have been here yesterday. Had she used another name? Checked into a different hotel? Maybe this one was full when she arrived, although he looked around the lobby and thought that unlikely.