“Shut up, you brat. I’m pregnant.”
“You may blame the baby, Dez, but I’m pretty sure the gelato has something to do with it, too.”
He laughed and ducked away as she swung her purse at him. The gallery was mostly deserted that Thursday afternoon, the summer crowds had dissipated to nothing, and the damp weather was making their usual stroll through the villa gardens less than attractive, so they had decided to take in the collection of paintings.
“I’m kidding! Sheesh, I’m kidding. You know you’re gorgeous. I’d still steal you from Matt if I thought I could get away with it.” Ben winked and threw an arm around her slender shoulders as she pretended to pout.
“You’re mean, Benjamin Vecchio.”
“Yeah, but I’m cute, too.” He kissed the top of her head as they continued to walk. “And you really are beautiful.”
The smile spread across her face as she beamed.
“Are you missing school?”
He snorted. “What do you think?”
She laughed a little. “Are you missing your girlfriends?”
“Well, probably not as much as I should be. You know what I really miss?”
“Basketball?”
“Besides basketball, that’s a given.”
“What?”
“Getting my license.” He groaned. “I can’t believe I’m finally sixteen and in a foreign country where I can’t even drive.”
“Aw, Benny.” She hugged his waist a little. “Maybe Gio will get you a Ferrari for all your hard work.”
“Oh, that’s so likely! Why don’t you suggest that to him when he gets back?”
They both fell silent after that. It was a subject they tried not to bring up. After the last communication from Istanbul, no one had heard from his uncle or Carwyn in over three weeks. Ben’s world felt like it was balanced on a very thin edge. He could only imagine how Beatrice felt.
“I will,” Dez said quietly. “As soon as he’s back, I’ll tell him how helpful you’ve been. You’re a first-rate hacker.”
“Shhh. Don’t tell B that I’m better than her now. It’ll hurt her feelings.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Dez and Ben had spent weeks sifting through all the information on the hard drive from the Bulgarian plant. Then they’d systematically been going through all the public records of Livia’s companies. It was a good thing that Italian seemed to come so easily to Ben. Between his knowledge of Spanish, which he’d taught himself to read as a child, and his Latin education with Giovanni, he had picked up a working knowledge of Italian within weeks of arriving in Rome. In the six months they’d been there, his fluency had only grown. He and Dez had been a vital part of discovering Livia’s holdings and assets. They were still tracing the money that had funded the cosmetics factory, but so far, the Roman noblewoman seemed to be the only immortal with a concrete tie to the place, which was both frustrating and reassuring.
“You know,” he said. “I was thinking about that German corporation we found that she funneled money through last April, if we could—”
“Hey, this is supposed to be our non-work time, mister.”
“I know, I’m just…”
“What?”
He stopped in front of what looked like a Renaissance era oil painting on wood. “Bored,” he said. “I’m really, really bored.”
“I know the computer work isn’t exactly the most thrilling, but—”
“Maybe if Matt would let me, you know, help with some other stuff.”
Dez cocked a skeptical eyebrow in his direction. “Ben, not even I know most of what Matt does. He gets information in… slightly less orthodox ways, you know? I don’t think you want to get mixed up in any of that.”
But he did. He stared at the painting of the men carrying the body of Jesus to his tomb. He glanced at the small plaque. Rafael. Then he looked more closely at the painting.
“Hey, Dez?” He cocked his head and leaned forward. “Is that…”
Her eyes were narrowed at the painting, too. “Looks kind of like…”
“Emil Conti?”
“That’s what I was thinking, too.”
They exchanged a glance and stepped back.
“Dez, our lives are really weird.”
“And you’re bored anyway.”
“What can I say? I have a high tolerance for weirdness.”
They had detoured down a street near the train station to check out a bookstore that catered to English speaking tourists later that afternoon. Both were sorting through their finds when the scooter almost knocked Dez over.
“Hey!” Ben shouted at the driver in Italian. “Watch where you’re going!” The driver didn’t turn around or even notice them. Ben turned back to Dez. “You okay?”
She was staring at the retreating man on the scooter with a frown on her face. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”
“What’s the look?”
“That driver.”
“What about him? He was an asshole.” Ben took the bag from her hand and helped her back onto the narrow sidewalk.
“No, not the driver, exactly. The uniform. I recognize—that’s the service she uses!”
“What?” Ben shook his head and wondered how fast they could leave the somewhat rough streets of the Termini neighborhood. “Who?”
“Livia. I’ve been wondering—you know how Gio and Carwyn joke about how she’ll only send stuff by uniformed messenger? Well, it’s kind of true. Back when they were getting invitations and stuff from her—when we first got here—I noticed that they never came in the mail. They always came by delivery. Even that crazy dress she sent for B, it was the same uniform that guy had. That must be the company she uses.”
Ben looked around, scanning the shops along the Via Marsala and wondering how fast they could walk back to the house. Even though the area was improving, Dez was still dressed far too nicely to go unnoticed by the dark, familiar eyes of the pickpockets and thieves that trolled the neighborhood. He looked around and wondered if he should just call for a cab.
“Let’s go check out the shop!”
His head jerked around. “What?”
“The shop! Look.” She pointed down the street. “I can see those same scooters, a whole bunch of them, down there in front of that shop. Let’s just go hang out for a while. If we watch, maybe we’ll recognize someone. Maybe she uses the same couriers and stuff. It sounds like something she’d do.”
He felt a nervous twinge in the bottom of his stomach. “Dez, I don’t really think—”
“Come on.” She tugged his arm. “We’re just going to go watch it for a while. Didn’t you say you were bored?”
He was, but watching a messenger service that was used by Livia, all while Dez was with him, wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. She was already walking toward the shop.
“Dez!”
She didn’t turn around, and Ben had to hustle to catch up with the petite blonde, all the while cutting his eyes at the men who watched her as she passed. He strode quickly to catch up with her, but refused to run. Dez was already attracting too much attention. Finally, his long legs reached her and he pulled her arm, tucking her a little behind him while he slipped his hand in his pocket and hooked a finger in his waistband, flicking the handle of the knife he carried. He saw a scrawny thief’s eyes dart to his, then down to his hand before he turned away, looking for an easier mark.
“Let’s just walk a little slower, okay? Try not to shout, ‘I’m a rich tourist’ at the top of your lungs.”
She just looked confused. “I wasn’t saying anything.”
“Yes, you were.”
He took her arm and they walked closer to the shop. A group of men sat in chairs outside as young couriers darted in and out of the storefront. Judging from their posture, Ben thought they wore weapons. He sighed and looked farther up the street, spotting a small café that looked like it catered to backpackers. It had an outdoor seating area and a few tourists were sitting around,
drinking coffee.
“Dez, if you’re determined to watch the place, let’s go up here.”
“Where?”
“That café.”
She squinted. “We won’t be able to see much from—”
“We’ll see enough.”
The tension in his stomach was growing as they walked opposite the shop. Ben tried to distract her, but he could tell the men in front of the shop had noticed Dez’s eyes on them. Still, he didn’t want to draw more attention to either of them by telling her to not be so obviously curious. They took a seat at one of the small tables and Ben asked Dez to go grab two drinks.
“Big ones. American coffees so we’ll be here a while.”
“Okay!” She was so damn cheerful it almost killed him. He sat down in the chair that had the best angle to observe the shop. It seemed to do a brisk business, and he could hear the phone ringing from inside all the way up the narrow street. The men in front glanced over at them a few times before they returned to their coffees and papers. A few of them talked on cell phones and their eyes darted around the street. Dez finally came out carrying a plain, black coffee for him and some sweet concoction for herself. He wondered if she’d had to instruct the barista how to make the drink. No doubt she had, by the friendly wave she gave someone through the window.
“They have decaf here!”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Cool.”
“I know, right?”
“Good for the baby and less likely to get you completely wound up.” Dez on a caffeine high was truly something to behold.
“Now, what can we—” She began to turn around to look at the shop, and Ben grabbed her arm.
“Don’t.”
“But I can’t see.”
“Well, I can, so you’ll just have to put up with my eyes.”
“But I’m the one that’s seen the messengers! And if there’s one I recognize, we could follow him or something.”
“That sounds like a spectacularly bad idea that Matt would kill me for letting you do.”
She grimaced. “He’s not the boss of me, Ben. Come on. It’s daylight! It’s not like any of the really bad guys are even up.”
“I’m not worried about the really bad guys. Just the normal, everyday ones are enough to handle, thanks.”
He sipped his coffee and watched the shop. Ben had skirted the edge of violence for most of his childhood. When he was younger, he’d picked the pocket of the wrong type of mark more than once. He was good at running away; he was better at avoiding a fight in the first place. As he’d gotten older, he’d learned how to spot the bullies he could handle and the ones he wanted to avoid. Dez, apparently, had not. He cursed under his breath as she tried to sneak a surreptitious glance at the shop. Her eyes followed every scooter that went up the street.
“Okay, that’s it.” He stood and finished his coffee in one gulp. He grabbed the bag of books and held his hand out for Dez. “We’re going.”
“What?” She looked over her shoulder again, drawing the attention of the men in front of the shop. “But we—”
He pulled her up and tugged her close. “You’re attracting too much attention,” he muttered. “We need to go.”
“Oh.” She looked embarrassed, and Ben felt bad for the harsh whisper. “Sorry, I… sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He scanned the street. Damn. He wasn’t as familiar with this neighborhood, but the street they were on looked fairly busy. He didn’t want to walk back past the shop and draw more attention, so he took Dez’s hand and walked farther up, hoping to catch a cross street that would lead them back to something more familiar.
“Ben, I’m sorry.”
He didn’t stop. “It’s fine.”
“No, really, I—”
“We just need to get back to the…” He heard the heavy steps echo along the narrow road, but he kept walking.
“Should we go back to the train station?”
In retrospect, they probably should have. The street, which seemed busy near the café, was slowly growing more deserted. The few shops they passed seemed to be closed for the afternoon. The rain started picking up again and small puddles formed in between the cobblestones.
“Ben, should we…” Dez trailed off, and her eyes widened. Ben knew she was also hearing the steady footsteps behind them. He risked a glance over his shoulder to see who was following. It was two men from the front of the shop. Both were wearing loose jackets that blocked the rain and probably concealed guns, too.
Shit, shit, shit. They were following them for sure, and Ben wasn’t familiar enough with the neighborhood to plan a good escape, especially considering that the street they were walking up was becoming narrower and more deserted with every block.
“Ben?” Her voice was frightened.
Not good, Dez. Don’t sound scared when they can hear us.
He took a chance and turned right by a closed shop, only to find a dead end.
Shit.
“Hey!” He heard one of the men call from behind them in Italian. “Boy!”
Ben turned and plastered on his most innocent smile when he replied in English. “Hey, do you guys know how to get back to the train station? My friend and I got kind of lost.”
Dez picked up the theme. “Yeah, we just stopped for coffee, and I told him this would be a short-cut.” She forced out a laugh. “Oops! We’re still getting to know the streets here, and…”
The men were still approaching, but one of them was speaking quietly on a mobile phone. His eyes narrowed at Ben and he pulled his partner closer.
“Il ragazzo Vecchio,” one said in the other’s ear.
“E la donna?”
“La amica di la Americana.”
‘A friend of the American woman.’ Well, Ben thought, at least they knew it was definitely one of Livia’s shops. Someone must have taken pictures, or there were cameras he hadn’t seen. More troubling, they knew who he and Dez were. His eyes immediately scanned the narrow alley they found themselves in. There was a fence behind them, but there was no way Dez would be able to jump over it. The men were blocking the exit, and they were still speaking and gesturing. Unfortunately, the one on the phone was also slipping his hand in his pocket.
His senses triggered, Ben quickly skimmed through his options. They didn’t look like they wanted to kill them, but those fingers dancing in the man’s pocket were making him nervous. Very nervous.
“Just scare them,” he heard one say in quiet Italian. “He says to rough them up a little. Send a message to the American woman.”
“Si?”
Ben whispered to Dez under his breath. “When you see an opening, run back to the train station as fast as you can. Do not argue with me. Just run straight to the police.” The man had slipped his hand in his pocket again and was looking at Dez with a smirk.
She whispered frantically, “But Ben—”
Ben sprang on the unsuspecting man, looking at Dez before she could finish her protest.
“Dez, run!”
His fingers slipped in the man’s pocket and pulled out the gun, tossing it as far as he could down the street before the man twisted around and slugged him in the gut. Ben stumbled back and the man kicked his knee, sending him to the ground.
“Ben!” Dez hesitated for only a second before she ran toward the mouth of the alley.
He saw the other man moving toward her; luckily, he didn’t look like he was pulling out any weapons. Just as Dez was about to slip past him, her heel caught in one of the cracked cobblestones that lined the street and the other man caught her arm and dragged her closer as Ben watched helplessly from the ground. The thug drew his hand back, punched the small woman in the face, and Dez crumbled to the ground.
Ben barely registered the pain in his stomach when his attacker kicked him. His eyes were trained on Dez, the swell of her belly where the baby grew, and the man whose foot was drawing back to strike her. His uncle’s voice whispered in the back of his mind.
‘Protect Dez.
’
He blinked once and rolled to the side as Dez curled her body to protect herself and her unborn child. Ben grunted when his attacker’s foot met his knee; then he deflected the blow and reached into his waistband, pulling out his hunting knife. In one swift stroke, he reached up and sliced the back of the man’s knee, severing the tendons and causing the man to fall over him in pain.
‘Neutralize the immediate danger.’
Ben blinked and shoved the knife into the man’s stomach as he pushed the heavy body to the side. He didn’t hear the curses of the man he had stabbed. The wet suck of the blade was the only sound he heard as he came up to a crouch and rushed toward the other man who was kicking Dez as she lay helpless on the ground.
‘Do not hesitate.’
He blinked again and reached around the man’s heavy body with the knife. Just as Dez’s attacker began to turn, he struck. Once. Suck. Twice. The blade entered the man’s soft abdomen, angling up under his ribs between the muscles exactly where Giovanni had showed him. Ben gave a quick twist of the knife when his hand met flesh, and he could feel the spurt of warm blood as he severed the artery he’d aimed for.
‘Never leave your weapon.’
Ben pulled the knife out and kicked the man to the side. The first man he had stabbed lay cursing on the ground. The man who had been kicking Dez and the baby said nothing. A growing pool of blood leaked out of him and into the cobblestones that paved the street. The rain fell harder, and a rivulet of blood joined the small stream that flowed down the middle of the alley. Ben blinked again and tucked the knife into his waistband before he knelt and picked up the wounded woman.
Dez was moaning and her face was bleeding.
“The baby,” she mumbled. “He kicked the baby.”
“Hang on. I’m going to get us out of here.”
Ben had no idea how he carried her. He didn’t remember leaving the dead-end street or which direction he turned. He paid no attention to the pain in his knee or the strain in his arms. But he felt the warm blood soak his arm when Dez began bleeding between her legs, and he felt the warm tears that fell from her bruised face to stain his shirt.