Lost in Italy

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  Simone’s eyes went wide. “Where is this friend?”

  He nodded toward the car. Simone cast a furtive glance around, as if the people he’d mentioned would suddenly appear. “Bring her inside. I will prepare in the kitchen.”

  Relief swept through him. “Thank you, Simone. You have no idea—”

  “Go.” She waved him away. “Get her.”

  Trent did a quick scan of his own as he jogged back to the street. Thankfully, it appeared to be very quiet this late in the morning and there’d be no nosey neighbors to watch them carry Rachel inside. He opened the back door closest to Rachel and was relieved to see she’d regained consciousness.

  “Let’s get you inside.”

  “Where are we?” Halli demanded.

  “A friend’s house. She’s a nurse,” he explained briefly, reaching for Rachel.

  “Remembered an ex-lover after all?”

  Halli’s judgmental tone raised his hackles. “Simone is Lorenzo’s girlfriend of sixteen years.”

  He saw the instant she understood the complication of their arrival when her contrite gaze met his.

  “Does she know?” Halli asked.

  “No,” he said, taking the brunt of her sister’s weight so she could close the door. “And I’m still trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to tell her, so keep your mouth shut.”

  The sympathy in her eyes dampened from an infusion of indignation. “I wouldn’t say anything on purpose to hurt her, so don’t start acting like a jerk again.”

  Trent bit back a retort as she opened the front passenger door and leaned inside. That word was starting to get on his nerves. She was right, though, his comment was uncalled for. Picking a fight with her right now would only serve to redirect his stress, not relieve it.

  Seeing Halli had grabbed her camera only added to his stress with a flash of guilt. Shit. She hadn’t checked the memory card since they’d left the boat. For one, he had no doubt he’d have heard about it, and two, she wouldn’t have bothered with the useless, empty camera. Something told him now was not the time to bring it up; as they carried her wounded sister inside and waited for a call from her hostage-held brother.

  Simone was all business as they entered the kitchen. Trent and Halli followed her instructions to help Rachel sit on the blanket-covered kitchen table and stretch her legs out. He made very brief first name introductions then hurried outside to move the car to the side of the house. Not completely out of sight, but out of the way for now.

  When he made his way back inside, Simone had just finished cutting away Rachel’s red-stained pant leg. Halli held her sister’s hand. If she thought he’d bled a lot last night, how was she handling this?

  He studied her face, but she seemed to be holding up okay.

  Simone kept up a running commentary as she worked. “Bullet went straight though. That is good. And it is not near the femoral artery—also good.” She glanced up from the wound toward Rachel. “Or you would be dead right now.”

  Trent winced. Halli drew in a sharp breath. If possible, Rachel paled even more as she leaned back against the kitchen wall.

  “How long ago did this happen?” Simone asked.

  Trent looked to his wrist, only to remember he’d removed his watch for his shower last night and it was still sitting on his bathroom counter at the villa. So he guessed. “About a half hour.”

  “Maybe forty-five minutes,” Halli added.

  “Good job stopping the bleeding.” Simone worked quickly to clean and bandage the wound.

  Silent tears trickled down Rachel’s face, and more than once Trent noticed Halli switch hands and flex her freed fingers. Finally, Simone handed a couple of pills to Rachel with a glass of water and a professional, reassuring smile.

  “This will dull the pain. You will recover, with antibiotics to prevent infection and much rest. This bandage is temporary, until I return from the ospedale with adequate supplies.”

  Trent tensed at the Italian word for hospital. “Simone—”

  “I know.” She rubbed Rachel’s arm, then walked over to deposit the empty glass on the counter next to Trent. “Discretion is of upmost importance, si?”

  “Si. Lives depend on it.”

  “So be it.” She picked up a set of keys from the counter and glanced at Halli on her way to the back door. “We are close in size. Choose some clean clothes from my room and use the bathroom down the hall to clean up, if you wish. Rachel, wait for my return. I will hurry, but do not expect me sooner than at least one hour.”

  “Grazie.”

  Trent’s thank you was lost under Halli’s, “Trent was shot, too. Last night.”

  She might as well have shined a spotlight on him.

  Rachel’s eyes widened. “You were?”

  He threw Halli a dark look as Simone pinned him with a frown. “Why do you not tell me this?”

  “It’s just a scratch and Halli already patched me up.”

  “It’s more than a scratch,” Halli contradicted. “If Rachel needs antibiotics, it stands to reason you do, too. Especially after being dunked in the lake water.”

  “Show me this scratch.”

  Simone’s tone brooked no argument so he reluctantly unbuttoned his shirt to shrug free of the sleeve. He’d gotten used to the constant ache, but with nothing else to claim his attention, the sharp twinge that accompanied the flex of his bicep made him grimace.

  Simone unwound the Ace bandage, and clucked in disapproval. “Si. Antibiotics, idiota.” Her gaze shifted. “And what is all this?”

  Trent didn’t have to look down to know she meant the large black and blue blotch about the size of a boot print in the middle of his chest. More bruises colored his left side where his ribs had taken his full weight when he slipped on the side of the boat. He slid his arm back in his sleeve and pulled the shirt edges closed. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  She rolled her eyes and departed without another word.

  After the click of the door, Trent buttoned his shirt and prepared to meet Halli’s I-told-you-so expression. But she’d already moved on. “You should try the phone again.”

  His second call to her brother’s phone went straight to voicemail. Either the battery had died, or it’d been turned off. If it was the latter, someone had listened to his message. He didn’t want to speculate why they hadn’t called back, but hoped they heeded his warning.

  The worry on Rachel’s face read like an open book, while Halli’s was more subtle. What struck him was an inner strength he saw today that hadn’t been there yesterday. Amazing considering her obsessive compulsion for order and control in this situation where chaos reigned.

  Somewhere in the other room, a clock ticked off the minutes until Simone’s return. Lost in his own thoughts, Trent let Halli and Rachel’s quiet conversation flow over him. Simone had pushed the kitchen table up against the wall earlier, and Rachel rested her head back, eyes closed. He saw Halli look down at her hands. A further glance took in her blood-stained clothes and she deposited the camera next to him on the counter before murmuring she was going to make use of Simone’s offer to clean up.

  As she walked down the hall, he wished the phone would ring and dreaded it at the same time. More than anything he wanted to give Halli confirmation that her brother was alive. If only he could take her in his arms and promise everything would be okay. Take the burden off her shoulders. Bring a smile to her face. Make her laugh again.

  If only life were as simple as wishing.

  He wished he’d gotten the chance to meet her under different circumstances. Wished his brother were still alive. Wished he’d never asked his friend to help him, that Lorenzo would walk through the door, and that he didn’t have to tell Simone the man she loved was dead.

  Full of restless energy, Trent wandered into another room in search of that infernal ticking clock to see how much longer before Simone returned. The sound of the shower shut off, and about ten minutes later he heard the door open in the hall.

  H
e felt Halli’s presence beside him where he’d braced his arms against the back of Simone’s sofa.

  She laid a hand on his forearm, gave a soft squeeze. “You have to tell her.”

  His hands fisted in tension as much from her touch as from her words. “I know.”

  “If there’s any way I can help…”

  The urge to hold her, to draw strength from her, overpowered all else. He turned and pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her slim frame. She stiffened for a moment before relaxing against his chest, her arms folded between them.

  Fresh from the shower, she smelled like heaven. A distant part of him recognized he was digging himself in too deep where she was concerned, but he came alive with her body against his. She was the one bright spot in the darkness. Shifting position, he spread his feet so that when he leaned back against the sofa she stood between his legs.

  His pulse sped up, making his heart thud in his chest, directly beneath her cheek. He loosened his hold and she eased back a few inches, palms flattened against his chest. When she lifted her gaze, he was lost.

  “Just you being here will help, Halli.”

  Cradling her face between his hands, he reveled in the silky slide of her damp hair against his fingertips. Her lashes drifted closed as his mouth covered hers. He took his time exploring her soft, sweet lips, watching the wondrous expression on her face as he did so. His kiss pleased her.

  Her breath did that little catch, unleashing a sliver of the morning’s desire into his veins. She pressed closer, the invitation of her parted lips irresistible and the perfect incentive to close his eyes. As he savored the kiss with his other senses heightened, he acknowledged he could get used to kissing her on a regular basis.

  “Figlio della putan!”

  The violent Italian curse hit Trent like a bucket of ice water. He jerked his mouth free of Halli’s to find Simone standing in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. Her beautiful face twisted with rage.

  In her trembling hands gleamed a gun.

  Chapter 16

  “Simone.”

  Careful not to make a sudden movement, Trent stepped forward and maneuvered Halli behind him. She resisted. Teeth clamped hard in frustration, he tried to push her back with one hand while extending the other toward Simone and the gun. Tears filled the Italian woman’s eyes and streaked down her face.

  “Bastardo! How dare you come here and ask for my help after what you did,” she accused.

  Lorenzo. She could be talking about nothing else. Now he recognized the grief mixed with her anger. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you right away, I just didn’t want it to be a shock. If you put down the gun, we can talk about this.”

  “I will talk to you about nothing.”

  “Simone, per favore…put the gun away.”

  “So you can kill me, too? I do not think so.”

  “What?”

  “He considered you his friend. How could you?” Her voice broke at the end.

  “What are you talking about?” The confused question came from Halli. “Trent didn’t do anything.”

  “Si!” Simone yelled with a jerk of the gun. “He shot my Renzo. Do not deny it—la polizia came to the ospedale as I retrieved supplies. They are searching for you right now. After that shooting at the United States Consulate, they know you are armed.”

  Halli’s fingers gripped Trent’s forearm as she gave a soft gasp beside him. “You told them about us?”

  “No. I do not get my justice if I reveal your location,” Simone said. “This way, I am defending myself from assassino.”

  Trent eyed the gun, wondering where she’d gotten it, if it was loaded, and did she really know how to use it? Knowing Lorenzo, the answer to the last two parts was yes. Next question—would she use it? He prayed that answer was no, but grief did strange things to a person and if he was wrong, a sudden move could prove fatal. He wasn’t willing to risk it with Halli at his side.

  “I didn’t shoot Lorenzo, Simone—”

  She gave a wild shake of her head. Her hand trembled even more than before. “They found him in your swimming pool. They want to ask you questions about his death. But I see your arm. He shot you when you betrayed him, did he not? I ask you why? What did he do to you?”

  “I swear to you, I did not betray him. He was my friend. He was helping me—”

  “And for this, you murder him?”

  “No! Do you really think I’d come here if I’d killed him?”

  “Simone—”

  Halli’s plea was cut short by the ring of the cell phone in Trent’s pocket. He stiffened, his gaze slicing to Halli’s. Lapaglia calling back about Ben. Returning his focus to Simone, he reached for the phone.

  “No,” Simone ordered.

  “He has to answer it,” Halli argued.

  The phone rang again. Trent slid his hand into his pocket. “The men who killed Lorenzo have Halli’s brother. We have a video that proves they shot him, not me. They’re setting me up.”

  “Basta! Stop lying to me.”

  “They’ll kill my brother if you don’t let him answer.” Halli took a step forward, but halted when Simone’s hand wavered in her direction.

  Rachel had worked her way off the table to brace herself in the doorway. “Please,” she begged over the fourth ring. “It’s true. They have our brother—”

  The second Simone’s attention shifted to Rachel, Trent lunged forward. He grasped Simone’s wrist with his right hand and twisted it behind her back. Using his body to pin her against the wall, he simultaneously answered the phone.

  “Who is this?”

  Halli stepped forward, and Trent’s firm squeeze on Simone’s wrist made her release the gun into Halli’s possession.

  “Let us not play games, Mr. Tomlin.”

  The cold, calm voice across the cell phone line sent a chill down Trent’s spine. Simone tensed and he knew she heard both sides of the conversation.

  “Fine, Lapaglia. We both have something the other wants, so I’ll keep this short and sweet. A simple trade. My video for Ben Sanders.”

  “As I understand, the video does not belong to you. Neither does Benjamin. Why do you concern yourself in this matter?”

  “You know why, you bastard. Like you said, no games. Just make the deal and this can be over.”

  “Your arrogance exceeds your brother’s.”

  Mention of Sean gave Trent absolute confirmation that the man had been involved in his brother’s death. Fury engulfed him. His fingers clenched so hard it was a miracle the phone didn’t snap in two.

  “You will not last the day with the police searching for you,” Lapaglia taunted. “Too bad some of them will shoot first and ask questions later. Curious event, eh? Roselli’s body turning up at your villa?”

  Lorenzo’s surname brought forth a soft gasp from Simone. Trent controlled a violent urge to punch the wall as if it were Lapaglia’s face and calmly stated, “Sucks for you that the video doesn’t reveal my face behind the trigger finger.”

  Silence.

  “That’s right, it’s all on there. Now, let me speak to Ben, and we’ll set up the exchange.”

  “That is impossible at the moment.”

  Trent swallowed hard, his gaze cutting to Halli’s rapt expression. “He better be alive.”

  Anguish clouded her eyes.

  “He is,” Lapaglia said.

  Trent nodded to Halli and relief flooded her tense features. “Give him the phone,” he demanded of Lapaglia.

  “I am a business man, I have meetings to attend.”

  “And I care, why?”

  “I do not babysit,” Lapaglia snapped. “You must take my word he is alive, the same as I trust you will not try to make any more copies of Halliwell’s video.”

  Trent wasn’t surprised they’d found the partial copy at his house, but he stood his ground. “I’m calling the shots here. Setting me up as Lorenzo’s killer gives me plenty of incentive to use that video to prove my innocence, so don�
��t give me a reason to rethink my offer. I’ll give you one hour. If you don’t call me back with Ben on the phone, I will release the video to a trusted source.”

  “I need two hours to return where we hold him.”

  “One.”

  “Then release the video. Benjamin will end up as dead as your brother and your agente friend. And do not forget, I know where Halliwell lives.”

  A broken sob shook Simone’s shoulders.

  “Two hours.” Trent flipped the phone shut and slid it back into his pocket as Simone collapsed in his arms.

  ****

  More than an hour and a half later, Trent sat with an arm around Simone on the edge of her bed while Halli shadowed the doorway. The older woman had fallen apart, but with Trent’s help, was slowly pulling herself back together.

  Watching them grieve over the loss of his friend and her lover, Halli felt like she was reading Trent’s journal again. And yet, a part of her could care less. After what Trent said about using the video for himself, her confidence in him faltered. It’d shattered when she checked her camera and discovered the SD card missing.

  It didn’t matter that she recognized the tactic for what it was, the moment he’d made the threat, it struck her that since Lapaglia and the rogue police officers had set him up as Lorenzo’s killer, the video was his only hard proof of innocence. Clearly, he was keeping it close, too. Her gaze strayed to his hips, wondering which pocket he’d slipped the digital card into.

  With his own life on the line, he didn’t really owe her and her family anything. She hadn’t seen the video, damn it! Not that she believed for one second Trent shot his friend, but she didn’t actually see Lapaglia pull the trigger, either. Believing and seeing were two different things in a court of law. Both, she’d wager, in The United States of America and Italy.

  When the choice came down to him or Ben, what would Trent do? Earlier, he’d tried to convince her to take Rachel to the consulate, insisting he needed to follow the plan alone. Was it really for her own safety, or so she’d leave the camera with him and he’d have sole possession of the video?