Lost in Italy (9 page)

“How’d you find me?” Halli whispered.

“Where else were you going to go?”

“I might have gone to my hotel.”

“Supposedly, you had no money, and honey, you don’t strike me as the type to stick out your thumb on the side of the road.  Not that it would’ve done you any good anyway, since your brother and sister never checked in.”

“What?  How—”

He tossed her a frown.  “Shhh.”

She moved closer and grabbed his arm.  Lowered her voice to a desperate whisper.  “How do you know?  I never mentioned the name of the hotel we were going to stay at.  How—”

“I found your travel itinerary with your passport and money and called to check.  As of about an hour ago, neither of them had registered.  Your brother isn’t answering his cell, either.”

The concern in her eyes told him he probably should’ve kept that information to himself until after they were on the way to Milan.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Tell him something he didn’t know.  It had him a little worried, too, but it wasn’t his problem.  Same as she’d no longer be a pain in his ass as soon as he dropped her at the consulate.

Trent grasped her shoulders, forcing her gaze to meet his.  “Forget them for now and concentrate on us.  You can’t find them if you’re dead.”

Fear flashed in her eyes again, but she stiffened her spine and determination overrode all else.  Good.  Maybe she finally understood the seriousness of the situation.  He stepped over to a shelf with clothes items folded on it.  He’d seen a janitor working during the day at Lorenzo’s station once or twice, so this might work.  He shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it to Halli.

She folded it over her arm, against her stomach.  “The female officer who was getting me a soda has probably found out I’m gone by now.”

“Yep.”  He jerked a pair of coveralls out and held them up.  Too small for him, too big for her.  As he tossed them aside, he instructed, “Do something with your hair.  Put it up.  Something so it looks different.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s an exit just down the hall.  That’s where I was headed when you grabbed me.”

Trent glanced over in surprise.  “You were leaving?”

“I saw the guy from the villa, too.  I think his name is Alrigo.  At least that’s what the officer called him—”

His pulse skipped a beat. 
Alrigo Lapaglia
.  He’d heard of the guy a couple times, and Lorenzo had said his name on the wire, but he hadn’t been able to put a face with the name until now.  “You’re sure he said Alrigo?”

“Yes.  He was talking to one of the cops, and he said
video camera
twice, so I pretended to be sick so I could get out of there.”  She tucked the jacket between her knees as she tied her hair in a ponytail with a piece of string she’d pulled off a shelf.  “Did you watch the video?”

“Exactly when do you think I would’ve had time to find a battery?”

“I just thought…well, it’s been a couple of hours since I left your place.”

“And I’ve been sitting outside, waiting to make sure you were okay.”

Her turn to look surprised.  “You waited for me?”

“Don’t read anything into it.  I’d have done the same for a stray dog.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Right back at ya, baby.”

He held up another pair of coveralls.  Close enough.  As he stepped into them, he directed a new surge of anger toward her bent head.

“You screwed me over real good, you know that?  After your story, the police have probably already swarmed my place and found the camera and the video.  Not to mention the recording from Lorenzo’s wire.  That was my only proof—”

“I didn’t tell them about you.”

His hand halted in amazement, the coveralls half zipped.  “You didn’t?”

She looked up as she shook her head.

“Seriously?  Why not?”

She lowered her gaze and shrugged, her cheeks suddenly rosy red.  He zipped the coveralls the rest of the way before stepping close with a relieved smile.  She took a half-step back, her eyes wide.

He took hold of her face with both hands and planted a kiss on her forehead.  “Finally…you did something right.  We just might make it out of here.”

A frown creased her brow, accompanied by a look of chagrin.  To forestall the expected argument, he took off his cap, put it on her head, and tugged it low over her face.  Hopefully the coveralls and his two-day scruff would be enough to throw anyone off.  And now that he knew they weren’t looking for him, too, his plan had a better chance of succeeding.

He took his jacket from her and draped it around her stiff-set shoulders.  A nudge toward the door met with resistance, but he pushed harder.  “Listen up, girlfriend Cara.  You just found out you’re pregnant and came to tell me here at work.  Your parents had forbidden us to see each other and your father hates me, so naturally, you’re crying at the thought of having to tell them.  I’ll hug you close and escort you outside to my car, and we’re home free.”

Her blue eyes were full of apprehension.  “You make it sound easy.”

“It will be.  Just act like you’re devastated.”

He reached for the door.  Her hand secured a vice grip on his.

“I don’t understand.  How will anyone know what you just told me?”

Trent held back a growl of irritation, pulled free of her grip and swiped his damp palm along the side of his costume.  A square shape in one of the pockets caught his attention.  “It’s back story, baby, so you can act the part better.”

“Oh, right—back story.  I forgot.”

He shook a cigarette from the pack of smokes he’d discovered and lit it with the accompanying lighter.  “What do you mean, you forgot?”

“Nothing.”

Trent squinted through the smoke curling up between them, wondering about her sudden clipped tone.  Her eyes had taken on a bleak, haunted look.  He wanted to ask her about it, but they had to get their butts moving.

“You smoke?”

He frowned at her disapproving, wrinkled-up nose. 
Seriously?
  “My character does.  And he’s just a tad bit stressed at the moment.”

“Oh.”

He tucked the pack back in his pocket, took a drag, fought a cough, and exhaled.

Show time
.

Halli watched Trent reach for the door, her pulse pumping in permanent overdrive—pretty much since the moment she’d met him.  At the last second, she put her hand over his on the door knob.

“Just don’t smile, okay?”

He looked at her like she was crazy.  “You’re upset, you’ve just told me you’re pregnant and your father will kill me if he finds out.  Why on earth would I smile?”

Great, now she felt like an idiot.  “I don’t know.  I just thought you should know your smile is very recognizable.”

His lips curved into the exact smile she’d seen countless times over the past ten years.  His perfect, white, famous smile.  “Thanks for the reminder.”  The smile disappeared in the blink of an eye.  “Now start crying.”

She took a deep breath as he opened the door.  Trent’s immediate stream of fluent, dramatic Italian threw her for a moment, but she focused on the part he’d asked her to play.  Fear of never seeing Ben and Rachel again and of getting caught by the man from the villa welled real tears in her eyes.  A blink spilled them over the edge of her lashes, down her face.  She added a soft sob when Trent put an arm around her and drew her close.

Because she didn’t understand a word he said, all she could do was cry, her face buried against his chest while he led her toward the exit.  The strong scent of bleach from the coveralls filled her nostrils.  He’d smelled better in the car.

Voices from one of the upcoming corridors robbed her of any smidgeon of security his embrace gave her.  She tensed.  Trent’s hold tightened, but he didn’t stop talking or walking. Smoke curled in front of her from the cigarette in his hand by her shoulder.  She lifted her hands to cover her face and sobbed harder.

Trent’s lips pressed to her ear as two officers walked by.  “Not so damn loud.”

She toned it down.  A moment later, his other hand cupped her cheek.  He halted and lifted her face to his, his thumb swiped across her skin to remove the moisture.

What was he doing?  Why was he stopping?  They had to keep moving.

Italian words spilled from his mouth, full of heartfelt emotion to match a glowing intensity in his hazel eyes.  Halli’s heart skipped a beat.

“Shake your head no,” he whispered.

She blinked.  From the corner of her eye, she noticed the men who’d passed them paused halfway along the corridor to watch their drama.  She did as Trent instructed and restarted the waterworks for good measure.  He hugged her close again, spouted more foreign lines with a consoling accent, and steered her for the door.

The white little running man on the exit sign near the door beckoned.

Halli fought not to run the last ten feet.  Almost there.  They were going to make it.  Just walk right out.  She couldn’t believe it was as easy as he’d said.  Then she noticed another sign posted on the door and tried to slow their steps.

“That looks like a warning of some kind,” she whispered to Trent.

“It’s for an alarm.”  He urged her forward.  “But it’s—”

Halli sucked in a breath and planted her feet.

“—not activated.”

“How do you know?” she asked in desperation.

“How do you think I got in here?”

Trent reached around her and pushed open the door.  Halli cringed, eyes squeezed tight, expecting an ear-piercing warning to announce their escape.

Silence.

She opened her eyes again and breathed.  No alarm.  The sun was still shining, though it had started its evening decent in the brilliant blue sky.  She sniffed away any remaining tears and turned to smile up at Trent from underneath the baseball cap.

A shout behind them wiped away her exhilaration a second before Trent’s rough shove propelled her the rest of the way through the open doorway.

“Run!”

Chapter 5

Trent
followed Halli out the door.  She stumbled and he grabbed the collar of his leather jacket to haul her up from her knees.  Too late, he remembered it'd only been draped around her shoulders.  The unexpected weightlessness threw him off balance, and he ended up a step ahead of her.

He found his footing, reached back for the hand she stretched toward him, and jerked her back onto her feet.  To their right lay a residential area, and to the left, the many quaint shops and businesses that made the village so old-world Italian.  Tourists crowded the walkways during the evening dinner hour.

Trent
went left, half dragging Halli in his wake.  If they could get lost in the crowd, eventually they could circle around to where he'd parked his black Mercedes.

Alrigo Lapaglia and two other men burst through the door seconds before
Trent
and Halli rounded the corner of the closest building.  She slowed up, but
Trent
pulled her forward.  “They're right on our tail, sweetheart, don't quit on me now.”

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Trent
took every turn he could, dodging people and vehicles.  Twice they narrowly avoided being hit when he glanced behind to see how close their pursuers were.

“You watch where we’re going,” Halli yelled over the ear-splitting screech of tires and blare of the horn after she slammed into his back the second time.  “I’ll watch them!”

Working together, they made their way through town.  His lungs began to ache, his legs burned, and he could only imagine how she felt, with him yanking on her arm for the last five minutes.

“I think we’ve lost them,” she panted a minute later.

Trent
eased up, glancing behind to reassure himself they were safe.  The immediate area behind them settled back into a walk after their headlong dash, but a block and a half away, the man in the black leather jacket barreled around a corner and through the crowd in their direction.

Renewed adrenaline surged through his body as he urged Halli back into a dead run.  Just before they took another turn,
Trent
checked their progress.  He caught sight of a large white truck in the intersection a block away.  It slammed on its brakes, but not in time to avoid hitting Lapaglia.  His body flew a good ten feet into the intersection.  The scream of an onlooker echoed down the street.

Trent
felt no remorse for the man who’d killed his friend and didn’t wait to see if he got back up, either.  He took the opportunity to duck into a shop.  Halli gave a small squeak of surprise at the abrupt move, then abruptly clamped her mouth shut.

They both fought to catch their breath as she stood close, pressed against his side while he surveyed the place.  It was a gift shop, full of that over-priced souvenir knick-knack stuff tourists loved. 
Small plastic replicas of the surrounding mountains of Lago di Como, various cathedrals, and of course the unmistakable Leaning Tower of Pisa,
cluttered a shelf directly in front of them; kept company by a row of key chains and Italy collector spoons.