Читать книгу Secret Agent Reunion - Caridad Pineiro - Страница 10

Chapter 6

Dani didn’t wait for his reply, afraid of what it might be. She charged out of the room, and Mitch quickly followed, catching up to her to stroll side-by-side into the courtyard. As Dani noticed the hotel clerk by one set of doors, tending to a large terra-cotta pot filled with flowers, she stepped closer to Mitch and wrapped an arm around his waist.

Mitch eased an arm around her, pulling her tight against him. He bent his head, nuzzled the side of her cheek and whispered, “You’ll have to make this look good, you know.”

She went up on tiptoe and silenced him with a kiss, pressing her body to his, opening her mouth to taste him and run her tongue along the outline of his lips. When he groaned, she shifted away slightly and whispered in his ear, “Was that good enough, amore?”

“Too good,” he muttered beneath his breath and shifted inches away, a bright flush of color on his cheeks. He waved at the clerk but applied gentle pressure at the small of her back to urge her in the opposite direction and out of the courtyard.

They remained close together, arms around each other’s waists until they reached a larger street a few blocks away. Dani separated from him then and stopped to get her bearings. It had been over a year since she had been in Rome, but it took her only a second to know where she was.

“Lazlo offices are across the river. Actually, quite a distance away. There’s a tram we could take.”

Mitch glanced up the street, scoping it out before facing her. “Are you up to hoofing it?”

“Hoofing it? If you’re up to it, then so am I.” Besides, she could use the exercise and time to stretch. The annoying pull she had experienced along her midsection the other day had come back with a vengeance, likely from sitting so many hours as she watched the videos.

At his nod, she started walking, intent on reaching the Tiber. Mitch matched his longer strides to her shorter ones. She kept the pace steady but reasonable. It was quite a walk to the Lazlo Group location, which was on a small street close to the Spanish Steps and the Villa Borghese.

It was odd walking beside him in uneasy silence, considering how many times they had been together in Rome. In that wonderful year, whenever had Mitch visited, they had regularly strolled the streets, exploring the sights of the ancient city. The talk had been non stop then, as had been the loving.

Of course, none of that was possible any longer. He had deceived her—as she had him. The fact that both of their deceptions had been for good cause did nothing to alleviate the concern that they both had carried out their deceptions quite well.

It left her wary, uncertain of whether Mitch’s actions could be trusted now, and yet his honor had been one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place. As for her own deception…

It had been necessary in her quest for justice.

At the river, she gestured toward one of the bridges, but as they crossed over the small square cobblestones, she paused to look over the sluggishly moving waters to the other bridges down river—the Ponte Garibaldi and, just beyond it, the small Isola Tiberina in the midst of the Tiber.

“Something wrong?” Mitch asked.

She laid her hands on his. “Loosen up, Mitch. Just pausing to enjoy the view.”

Mitch glanced over his shoulder, tracking Dani’s gaze. The river and bridges stretched out before him, a nice view, much as she had said. But not as nice as the view in front of him.

He faced her once again, telling himself he shouldn’t take such pleasure in seeing her. In walking with her along these streets as they had three years earlier. But the pleasure was as undeniable as the pain that followed at the realization of all they had lost. Somehow, the last didn’t communicate itself to his brain as he said, “Yes, nice view.”

Bright color blossomed along her cheeks as she apparently realized his attention was on her. “Let’s go. It’s starting to get dark.”

Dusk approached quickly, a testament to how many hours they had spent reviewing the materials Lazlo had sent. His stomach growled, a reminder that the boy from Baltimore hadn’t ever gotten accustomed to late-night European meals.

Dani grinned at the rather loud noise from his midsection. With a playful tug on his hand, she said, “Come on. It’ll be tough to sneak up on anyone with all that grumbling going on.”

Her pace was faster than before and they were soon at a familiar place, the Campo de Fiori. He remembered shopping away many a morning with her among the assorted vendors’ stalls. At this hour they were gone, clearing the plaza for artist types and the outdoor dining spots that the restaurants along the edges of the piazza set up.

“Just a snack, mind you,” Dani warned as she pulled him along to a tiny café. In perfect Italian she ordered some cappuccinos and buttered rolls.

He’d had something more substantial in mind, but this would tide him over for another couple of hours. He sipped slowly at the cappuccino in between bites of the deliciously yeasty and buttery roll. He was done long before Dani, who shot him a look out of the corner of her eye and took pity on him, handing him her half-eaten roll.

“But keep your hands off the coffee,” she warned him.

He chuckled, earning a dimpled grin from her. He reminded himself to keep this all business between them. It was about the mission and nothing else.

He reined in his reactions to her—those of his heart and body—and sipped the coffee and ate the roll that suddenly wasn’t as tasty. He was too busy recalling the taste of Dani’s mouth and lips against his.

They finished quickly and continued on their way. The walk took them past the Pantheon and through an assortment of small streets to the Via dei Corso. He remembered that the Trevi fountain stood just a stone’s throw away, and he took the lead, but when they reached it, the area was mobbed as always by tourists. The way it had been the first time Dani had brought him there.

They had waited then, inching their way to the edge of the fountain where Dani had playfully slipped a handful of coins into his hand and he had turned and tossed them over his shoulder to ensure his return to Rome as legend claimed.

And he had returned, time and time again, to see her. Each visit filled with pleasure until the realization had come that he was in love with her. But she hadn’t been the woman he had thought, he reminded himself. He didn’t know if he could get over that or deal with her quest for vengeance for her parents’ deaths. The file Lazlo had given him on Dani said that she hadn’t gotten that information from Donovan. That quest had consumed her before, and he was certain he could never replace it as her number one priority.

He put his head down, ignoring the fountain, and pushed onward until they reached the Via Condotti, where they passed an assortment of elegant shops as they approached the Spanish Steps.

Beside him, Dani paused and gestured to something that looked like little more than an alley.

“This way,” she said and slipped into the narrow street.

He followed, trusting that she knew her way better than he did. Sure enough, within a few minutes the alley opened into another street lined with shops and supply houses that likely provided the materials for the larger fashion houses on the Via Condotti and closer to the Spanish Steps.

At one corner, a quick motion of Dani’s head identified the building to him. On the exterior it appeared to be a store selling fashion trimmings. Its front window displayed an assortment of buttons, ribbons and embellishments, but he knew that a couple of stories below the shop was the location of the Lazlo Group’s Rome headquarters.

They paused for a moment, reconnoitering the area. Scoping out the access to the building. Making mental note of everything nearby, because they knew they had to be prepared for anything and everything. They both understood that possibly better than any others.

As Dani mimicked examining some fabrics in the window of a store across the street from the Lazlo offices, Mitch leaned against the stone column beside the window. He noted the vehicular traffic going by as well as the pedestrians, mostly shoppers with bags from the larger stores on Via Condotti.

Beside him, Dani muttered what sounded like a curse beneath her breath and rubbed at her side, snagging his attention. She looked pale. Or maybe it just seemed that way thanks to all the black she wore, from her sneakers to her jeans and shirt.

“You okay?” He straightened and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Just a stitch,” she said, but it was obvious that it was more. He wondered if he had misjudged her physical readiness for the mission and was about to question her comment, but knew Dani wouldn’t take kindly to coddling.

“Good. I mean…good that it’s only a stitch.” You’re an ass, he thought and then his stomach growled more loudly than before, dragging a chuckle out of Dani, who seemed to leap on the opportunity it presented.

“Do you think you can hold out until we get back to Trastevere?”

“Are you up to walking back?” He winced as she immediately got her guard up.

“I can make it. Can you?” She lifted her chin in challenge.

Discretion, he told himself. “Actually, no. I’m tired and hungry and I’d like to get back to the room because we don’t want to disappoint Signora Garibaldi.”

She grinned at the mention of the exuberant hotel clerk who had checked them in earlier that day. “I guess we need to give her something to talk about.”

“Definitely need to keep up our cover, so let’s hit the bricks.” He slipped his arm around her waist and that she didn’t protest was maybe a sign that she wasn’t feeling a hundred percent.

“Hit the bricks? Do you realize—”

“How clichéd I can be? Yep. Did you forget that about me?”

Dani wanted to say that she hadn’t forgotten anything about him, but bit back that comment since it would only cause trouble. She hadn’t forgotten his propensity for such sayings or the way it felt when he tucked her under his arm protectively, as he had now. She might have protested, if she was feeling better, but the stitch in her side hadn’t receded. If anything, it had grown worse with the long walk.

She told herself that what she needed was rest and then a nice stretching session. Possibly a long soak in the bath.

“We can catch a tram back not far from here.” She motioned in the direction of Via Condotti and they walked side-by-side a few blocks until they were at the tram stop. It wasn’t long before the tram came, but it was relatively crowded, forcing them to stand close together.

Dani relaxed against Mitch’s solid bulk, letting him battle the bumps and jostling of the crowd, and wondered when she had become such a baby. She had chased after bad guys with broken bones, and now she was letting a little discomfort in her side get to her.

Maybe it’s because now you know what it feels like to die, her inner voice reminded her. And so she allowed herself the protection of Mitch’s body and the support of his arms. By the time the tram had crossed over the Tiber and into Trastevere, the sharp pain in her side had receded to a dull throb.

Mitch leaned down and whispered in her ear. “When should we get off?”

“One more stop, I think. By Santa Cecilia,” she replied. Realizing they were almost there, she took hold of his hand and urged him to the exit.

She didn’t release her hold once they were off the tram. Instead she guided him down one of the nearby streets, Via de Genovesi, and to the restaurant.

Spirito di Vino was well-known for its food, wine and having Rome’s original synagogue in its cellar. They walked up the stone steps, beneath an archway and into the restaurant. Once inside, she noted that the stone Alcantara walls continued within along with the archways. Since they were still a bit early for the late-eating Italians, the wait for a table was blessedly short.

The friendly hostess seated them and presented the menus, but also advised that if they desired, the staff would be glad to offer their recommendations for the meal along with the wine.

Mitch, who was sitting beside her, laid his hand over hers. For the first time, the glint of the gold wedding band on his ring finger registered. Reminded her of the similar ring she wore on her hand as part of their charade. How many times had she imagined them married for real? More times than she cared to admit.

“Does that sound good to you, honey?” It was his newlywed husband voice, all solicitous and eager.

“Of course, sweetheart. This is our honeymoon and we want it to be special.”

At her words, the hostess smiled. “Benissimo. We will make sure that it will be molto especiale per lei.”

“Grazie, signora,” Mitch said with a polite nod.

When the hostess walked away, she leaned forward and said, “So you speak a little Italian?”

“Just enough to say, ‘thank you’, ‘please’and ‘where’s the bathroom.’ Not fluent like you. Did you learn it while on assignment here?”

She shrugged. “It was one of my minors in college.”

“The University of Silvershire?” Hidden behind his words lurked another question—one that asked, “How much of what you told me about yourself was true?”

A waiter came over and poured two glasses of pinot grigio for them. She picked up the glass and said, “To our honeymoon.”

He clicked his glass with hers and took a sip, as she did. The wine was fruity and refreshing.

The waiter immediately returned with a plate of formaggio mixto—various cheeses—and a basket filled with an assortment of artisanal bread and rolls.

It was a nice way to begin the meal, she thought, and ate a bit of gorgonzola and semolina bread before answering Mitch.

“I got my degree there. I majored in political science with minors in Italian and French.”

“Any other languages I should know about?”

“German and Russian. I had started on Arabic when…”

Mitch picked up on Dani’s disquiet as her voice trailed off. When he met her gaze, he realized that she had stopped when he had left her life.

“Why?” he asked.

Her small-boned shoulders barely shifted with her shrug. “It just didn’t seem important anymore. All that knowledge and skills when I’d…when I’d lost another person I loved.”

His gut twisted at her words, alternately pleased and sad at her confession. He chose to shift the conversation to another place. “What happened with the prince, with Reginald—”

“Wasn’t something I intended to happen,” she immediately defended.

He thought about the prince’s death from the tainted cocaine Dani had left behind. She hadn’t outright killed him. And yet… “But you were there when he took the cocaine. You were then when he died.”

The hand bringing a piece of cheese and bread to her mouth trembled for a moment. She completed the action, chewed slowly, thoughtfully, before she answered him.

“Reginald swore he was clean. I left the room for only a few minutes…and when I returned he was dead from the cocaine. He’d lied to me about his drug use.”

“But did he deserve to die for that?” Mitch grabbed a piece of cheese from the plate and popped it into his mouth. The flavor was sharp and strong, much like Dani’s response.

“People like Reginald never stop to consider how many people die so they can get high. All I wanted was justice.”

“There’s a difference between justice and vengeance, isn’t there?”

Dani’s eyes narrowed as she considered him. “Why do you care?”

Why did he? he asked himself. He’d promised to not make it personal between them, but a part of him wanted to know that the woman he had loved wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. “Because I do care, Dani. I want to know why punishing Reginald was so important. Why you wrecked your career at SIS. Why you risked it all.”

She leaned forward, never shifting her gaze from his. “Because Donovan promised me the names of the drug dealers who had killed my parents. I wanted them punished. I wanted to find out who headed the crime syndicate they worked for, because I didn’t want another family to suffer as mine did.”