Kuznetsov threw his crystal glass at Nicholas’s head, spraying whisky through the air.
Nicholas caught the glass and in one smooth motion, flung it back at the Russian.
Kuznetsov lifted his arms to shield his face, and the glass shattered as it hit his forearm.
Nicholas ducked to avoid the flying debris. Kuznetsov’s men closed in on him, but at that moment the lights went out.
Nicholas dropped to the floor and maneuvered himself under the armchair. He could hear the sound of boots in the hall and shouts in Russian and English.
Then someone opened fire.
Chapter Sixty-Three
“HE DID IT.” Rick turned from his position in the front passenger seat, his cell phone pressed to his ear.
“Who?” Acacia asked.
She was sandwiched between two armed soldiers. Three more sat behind them in the large utility vehicle.
“The Interpol agent,” Rick explained. “Russian Interpol just busted into Kuznetsov’s compound.”
“Can Wen send photos?”
“Send me stills from the compound,” Rick ordered. When the text was received, he clicked through a series of black and white images. He handed his phone to Acacia.
In the photos, she could see the Interpol team working their way through Kuznetsov’s house. One photograph showed a couple of bodies on the floor.
“Does Interpol have enough men?” Acacia gazed in disgust at a photo of what looked like Kuznetsov’s soldiers preparing an ambush at the top of a staircase.
“Rick, we got a problem.” Wen’s voice came through the phone.
Acacia handed it back to Rick.
“Go ahead,” Rick said.
Acacia couldn’t hear what Wen was saying.
Rick’s body jerked. “Location?”
Again, Acacia strained but couldn’t make out the words.
“Make sure they go to the closest and most advanced medical facility. Text me the location.” Rick looked over his shoulder at Acacia. “Yeah, we’ll meet them there.”
Rick disconnected the call and faced Acacia.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“The team went into the villa. It was supposed to be a snatch and grab, but Kuznetsov’s men opened fire. Our team engaged, and the boss was hit.” Rick spoke slowly, keeping his voice calm.
Acacia didn’t react. She just repeated his words in her head.
“How bad?” the soldier to Acacia’s right asked.
Rick’s gaze flickered to Acacia before returning to the soldier. “Gunshot wound to the chest. One of the guys is also a medic, so he’s administering first aid. They’re on their way to the hospital.”
The world seemed to slow down. Acacia saw movement through the car windows, but everything seemed wooden.
Rick touched her hand.
She looked up at him. His lips moved but she couldn’t understand what he was saying.
She closed her eyes and opened them. “Take me to him.”
“Of course.” Rick faced forward. His cell phone chirped with an incoming text, and he rattled off the location to the driver.
The driver sped through the streets of Moscow, and Acacia focused all her mental energy on Nicholas. There were so many things she wanted to say.
Chapter Sixty-Four
“CAN HE HEAR ME?” Acacia turned anxious eyes on the surgeon, who’d just finished explaining the surgery he’d performed on Nicholas.
“He can hear you,” the doctor replied in Russian. “He’s going to be sleepy. I think he’ll make a full recovery. As I said, the bullet went through the trapezius muscle above his clavicle, not the chest. It was a clean shot, no bullet fragments. But the bullet nicked the clavicle.”
“Thank you.” She shook the surgeon’s hand, and he smiled at her.
“I’ll return for rounds tomorrow,” he explained before passing Rick to approach the exit. “If the night nurses give you trouble, you can tell them I thought your presence would be good for the patient.”
“Thank you,” Acacia whispered.
She went to Nicholas and took his hand in hers. She lifted his fingers to her face. She’d been so afraid she was going to lose him. The past few hours had been the worst of her life. Worse even than being a prisoner in Morocco.
“Acacia,” he murmured. He had a sleepy, confused look on his face. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” She shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t.” He closed his eyes. “I thought they had you. Kuznetsov said…”
Acacia waited for Nicholas to finish his sentence, but he didn’t.
She cleared her throat. “I’m fine. I was in the car with Rick when we got the call you’d been shot. I came as soon as I could, but they took you right into surgery.”
Nicholas hummed. He opened his eyes and for a moment, the grogginess seemed to leave him. “Kuznetsov?”
Her eyebrows drew together. “He’s still alive, but he got caught in the crossfire as well. He’s at another hospital.”
“He isn’t dead?”
“No, but he’s going to be arrested. Interpol went into the compound and seized a cache of weapons and bombs, along with stolen treasures from around the world. Kuznetsov had an Imperial egg in his vault that belongs to the Kremlin Armoury Museum. The Russian media is hailing Interpol as national heroes.”
“Russian Interpol?” Nicholas murmured. “They refused to help us.”
“The suspicion of weapons gave them grounds to search the property. The news is already reporting that Kuznetsov is an arms dealer. He’s been selling weapons to terrorists.”
Nicholas closed his eyes. “He told me he killed the man who murdered Riva.”
Acacia gasped. “He said that?”
Nicholas nodded.
“Do you believe him?” she whispered, moving closer.
“I don’t know. It would explain why we couldn’t find them.”
“I’m sorry, Nicholas. But I’m so glad you’re all right. You could have been killed.” Her voice shook.
Nicholas exhaled loudly.
She leaned closer and brushed his hair with her fingers. “Wen spoke with the Interpol agent. They think they recovered all three works that belong to your family. They’re waiting to have the artwork authenticated before they release them.”
Nicholas didn’t reply.
She continued to caress his forehead. “I called your mother after you came out of surgery. She and your father are on their way.”
“All right,” he slurred.
He seemed to fall asleep. Acacia continued touching his face, relief causing tears to flow.
“You were right,” he whispered. He opened his eyes. “I looked him in the eye, and I imagined killing him. It wouldn’t have been enough.”
Acacia reached over to kiss his lips, careful not to jostle his bandaged shoulder. “Don’t think about it now. You succeeded. You got the artwork back for your family. It’s over.”
Nicholas made a sound in the back of his throat and drifted off to sleep.
Acacia stayed with him, while Rick watched over them both.
Chapter Sixty-Five
“I CALLED CONSTANTINE.” Nicholas stood on the terrace at his parents’ home and looked up at the incredible view of Mont Blanc.
“What did he say?” Acacia asked.
“He thanked me for warning him about Kuznetsov. He’s going to take extra measures to keep Yasmin safe, even though Kuznetsov is in prison.”
“Good.” Acacia touched Nicholas’s arm.
“I feel lost.”
Acacia wrapped her arm around his waist, careful not to jostle his left shoulder and arm in a sling. “I think that’s a normal reaction.”
“Is it?” He turned questioning eyes on her.
She gav
e him a half-smile. “I’ve only met with Dr. Aswan once. But she stressed how normal my feelings were, even though they’re all over the place.”
Nicholas turned back toward the Alps. He clenched his jaw.
“I don’t pretend to understand your loss or the loss felt by your parents. But I love you, Nicholas, and I welcome you, no matter what your feelings are.”
“Thank you.” His dark eyes met hers, filled with affection. “I’ve had this burden for so long. Now that it’s gone, I feel bereft. I keep checking to see if I still have my wallet and my phone. But I know that’s not it.”
“No, it’s not.” Acacia was sympathetic. “I keep looking over my shoulder, even though the man who haunted me and my mother will never trouble us again.”
Nicholas placed his uninjured arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “I’m so glad you’re in my arms again. And you’re safe.”
She snuggled into his side and took his hand in hers. Her hamsa pendant clanked against his watch, along with another, larger pendant.
Nicholas looked down at their connection. “When you told my mother you were Muslim, what did she say?”
“She was horrified she hadn’t been offering me halal food. But she was relieved I wouldn’t be asking for pork.”
“My parents don’t keep kosher.”
“I don’t think pork is in their future.”
Nicholas laughed.
Acacia lifted her wrist to show him the new silver bracelet and pendant she wore. The pendant was a large disk, inscribed with Hebrew. “Your mother gave me this today.”
Nicholas squinted at the writing. “I left off studying Hebrew after my bar mitzvah. What does it say?”
“It’s a quotation from the book of Ruth. It says, ‘The Lord deal kindly with you, as you have dealt with the dead, and with me.’”
Nicholas frowned. “That’s morbid.”
“Naomi says those words to Ruth after the death of her husband, Naomi’s son. Your mother said she wanted to offer me a blessing, in gratitude for what I’ve done for your family.”
Nicholas’s frown morphed into appreciation. “She’s right. We are all grateful.”
“I didn’t do anything but love you.”
“That isn’t true, but your love is certainly the greatest gift I’ve ever received.” He smiled. “Do you like my mother’s gift?”
“I think of it as a blessing, too. Ruth wasn’t Jewish, and neither am I. This is your mother’s way of welcoming me.”
Nicholas brought his mouth to her ear. “I have another, better way of welcoming you into the Cassirer family. But we agreed we’d speak about that later.”
Acacia reached up and kissed him.
He returned her embrace, his arm wound around her waist. His thumb brushed her cheekbone as his lips moved over hers.
When they parted, his expression grew grave. “You did it, you know.”
“I did what?”
“You saved a life.”
Acacia lowered her head, her heart full.
“It’s true, mon amour. I was so fixated on revenge, I didn’t see what it was doing to my family or myself. I didn’t see what I was becoming. You helped me see. You saved my life.” Nicholas lifted her chin with his finger. “‘And whoever saves one—it is as if he had saved mankind entirely.’”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t think the guilt of taking a life will ever leave me.”
Nicholas’s forehead creased. “We both have regrets. But we also have a second chance.”
She hugged him tightly.
Nicholas touched the tip of her nose. “We need to have a serious conversation about something.”
Acacia drew in a breath. “What?”
“Claude Monet, your cat. Are you sure you want to keep him? This morning he used my best dress shoes as a litter box.”
Acacia looked up at Nicholas and saw longsuffering amusement in his twinkling eyes.
She burst out laughing.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Cassirer Foundation Museum
Cologny, Switzerland
One year later
“MY FRIENDS, I GIVE YOU the Riva Cassirer Memorial Hall.” Nicholas cut the ceremonial ribbon, officially opening the exhibit hall. His shoulder had healed, and he was able to use his arm with ease.
Applause erupted from the audience. Photographers took pictures as Nicholas and his parents shook hands with the curator of the museum.
Standing a short distance behind them, Acacia joined the applause. She wiped a tear from her face as she watched Nicholas embrace his parents.
He still had his scar. But he’d decided to have it removed. A plastic surgeon in Zurich had examined him and declared he could fix it. Surgery was scheduled in two weeks.
Nicholas caught her eye and smiled. She smiled in return.
He extended his hand, and she stepped forward. He kissed her chastely and rested his arm around her shoulders.
From her other side, Madame Cassirer placed her arm around Acacia’s waist and hugged her.
Acacia looked around the hall to see the Degas drawing, the Monet, and the Renoir, all displayed in their rightful places.
She admired the portrait of Riva Cassirer that now hung in the center of the hall. It was the portrait from Riva’s room in her parents’ house. She smiled down at all who passed.
Acacia saw Kate, giving her two thumbs up, standing next to her mother, Marileia. This was only Acacia’s mother’s second trip outside Brazil since she’d traveled to Jordan on a teacher’s exchange, before she met and married Acacia’s father.
Acacia sobered at the memory of her father and her cousin, Ibrahim. Her mother’s face had been lined with worry for years. Now, she was relaxed and happy. She no longer had to live in fear. She no longer had to hide.
Acacia touched the blue globes at her neck, and her hamsa pendant and the Hebrew pendant clinked against them. She was never without those three items, along with the watch Nicholas had given her.
He’d told her early that morning when they’d awoken and made love that he had another gift to give her after the exhibit opening. He’d held her left hand and kissed it, his lips lingering on her fourth finger.
“Happy?” Nicholas took her hand and squeezed it.
“Yes. And you?”
Nicholas’s gaze moved to the portrait of his sister. He could look her in the eye now. “Since she’s at peace, I feel like I can finally find peace as well.”
Acacia nodded, and Nicholas kissed her temple.
Acacia stood encircled by her new family and looked up at the portrait of Riva Cassirer. In life there was love and loss. There was faith and doubt. There was hope and regret. But Acacia believed in her heart that, just like Sisyphus, humanity was at its best when it confronted adversity with determination and courage. And she realized the support and love of a family made life’s burdens much lighter.
Acacia bowed her respect to Riva, touching the pendants she wore at her wrist. She prayed Riva would be at peace and said a silent prayer of gratitude for Nicholas and her new family.
Fin
Acknowledgments
I OWE A DEBT TO PARIS, Geneva, Cologny, Santorini, Helsinki, Dubai, Morocco, and Moscow. Thank you for your hospitality and inspiration.
I am grateful to Kris, who read an early draft and offered valuable constructive criticism. I am also thankful to Jennifer and Nina for their extensive comments and corrections.
I’ve been very pleased to work with Cassie Hanjian, my agent. I’d like to thank Kim Schefler for her guidance and counsel.
My publicist, Nina Bocci, works tirelessly to promote my writing and to help me with social media, which enables me to keep in touch with readers. I’m honored to be part of her team. She is an author in her own right and I heartily recommend her novels.
Heath
er Carrier of Heather Carrier Designs designed the book’s cover. She did a beautiful job. I would also like to thank Jessica Royer-Ocken for copy editing and Coreen Montagna for formatting the novel.
I am grateful to Erika for her friendship and support and I am so thankful for the kind words of Deborah Harkness. I also want to thank the many book bloggers who have taken time to read and review my work.
I especially want to thank my Brazilian readers from around the world and the administrators of SRFansBrazil and the Noites em Florencia podcast. You have been such a supportive community since the publication of O Inferno de Gabriel several years ago. This book was written for you, with thanks.
I want to thank the Muses, Argyle Empire, the readers from around the world who operate the SRFans social media accounts, and the readers who recorded the podcasts in English, Spanish, and Portuguese for The Gabriel Series and The Florentine Series. Thank you for your continued support.
Finally, I would like to thank my readers for continuing this journey with me. We form a diverse, supportive community that spans the globe. I am so grateful to be part of this community.
~SR
Feast of the Archangels, 2017
About the Author
New York Times, USA Today
and #1 International Bestselling Author
I’M INTERESTED IN THE WAY LITERATURE can help us explore aspects of the human condition—particularly suffering, sex, love, faith, and redemption. My favourite stories are those in which a character takes a journey, either a physical journey to a new and exciting place, or a personal journey in which he or she learns something about himself/herself.
I’m also interested in how aesthetic elements such as art, architecture, and music can be used to tell a story or to illuminate the traits of a particular character. In my writing, I combine all of these elements with the themes of redemption, forgiveness, and the transformative power of goodness.
I try to use my platform as an author to raise awareness about the following charities: WorldVision, Alex’s Lemonade Stand, and Covenant House.
The Man in the Black Suit Page 39