Whispered Lies

TWENTY-ONE

PARK HERE,” CARLOS told the limousine driver when they reached the airport in Carcassonne. He’d tried texting Korbin and Rae for backup, but had kept getting a busy signal. Were the damn towers down being repaired again?

When the car stopped moving, Carlos added, “Keep the doors locked and stay with Miss Saxe while I do a security check.”

“You think the airplane is a danger?” the driver asked.

“Not necessarily. This is just standard operating procedure.” Carlos reached over and squeezed Gabrielle’s hand to let her know to sit tight. He didn’t like that her skin felt like ice.

“I’ll be fine,” she said in a voice so small he really hated to leave her.

But he’d written instructions on the pad for her to order the driver to leave immediately if anything happened or if he didn’t come all the way back to the car to get her.

If he waved her to the plane, that was a sign to leave.

Carlos got out and strolled over to the lowered steps, waiting for passengers. The engines hummed and the white fuselage of the Learjet gleamed like a polished pearl.

He climbed the steps slowly, wishing he’d had a chance to alert Korbin and Rae or had a weapon in his hand, but anything other than riding to the airport as planned would have caused suspicion he didn’t want to create with the school.

At the door, he stuck his head inside.

Plush and sleek. A corporate fly toy.

He’d just stepped all the way inside to inspect the cabin further when the cockpit door opened. Carlos swung around, prepared to fight.

Jake Malone, one of BAD’s more versatile agents, stood with hands on hips and a grin that split his face from ear to ear. His buzz cut was hidden by a captain’s hat cocked a little to the side. He’d stuffed that wide body into an airline pilot’s dark-coat-and-pants uniform, perfectly outfitted right down to the white shirt and tie.

“Slick ride, huh?” Jake grinned, just as comfortable wearing official-looking gold bars on the shoulders of his jacket as jeans and sandals.

“What are you doing here?” Carlos was relieved, but annoyed.

“Joe bought some time by letting Interpol think the CIA is investigating Gabrielle, not that he had her in custody. But Interpol issued a warrant early this morning to bring Gabrielle in for questioning. Joe didn’t want to risk her passport photo being recognized, especially with the false name. He figured no one at the school would question Gabrielle having a private jet.”

“Good thinking. She just finished the computer work this morning. Are Korbin and Rae up to speed?”

“Gotthard sent them the message you two were going to Milano next. Korbin had problems with his cell today so he called me via sat-phone to let me know they saw you two leave a half hour ago. He and Rae should just be arriving at the commercial terminal about now.”

“Would have been nice to know this wasn’t someone else waiting for us,” Carlos said, scowling.

“Hey, I got one of Joe’s usual orders a couple hours ago-find a plush private jet, get here before you arrived, and get in touch with you as soon as I had everything lined up. I sent a text. Two out of three isn’t bad. That’s batting over.600.”

“I’ll remember that next time I have to cover your ass in a firefight.”

“When I didn’t get a confirmation back from you, I sent a message through the school. You must have gotten that or you wouldn’t be here. I knew you’d at least come to see who had delivered a jet to you.”

“That’s some screwed-up logic, but it fits, considering the source.” Carlos paused, squinting in thought. “You said us. Who’s your copilot?”

Jake shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”

The door at the back of the cabin opened, revealing a bed. Jeremy Sunn strolled out, looking like a surfer parading as a pilot in his jazzed-up outfit.

He stretched, yawning. Sun-bleached hair curled along the collar of his starched white shirt that glowed against the bronze tan. Carlos had never seen the jean-clad Jeremy in navy slacks or a pressed long-sleeved dress shirt.

“When’d you get a pilot’s license?” Carlos asked.

Jeremy lifted his diver wristwatch into view and shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe an hour ago, depending on which time zone we’re in right now.” He flashed a bright grin.

Oh, hell, no. Carlos rubbed his forehead where a throb had started, then glared at Jake.

“I said you didn’t want to know,” Jake reminded him.

“I’ll get Gabrielle and you get ready to fly us out of here as fast as you can,” Carlos told Jake, then turned to Jeremy. “And you, don’t push a button or touch a knob, not even in the bathroom.”

Jeremy raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just here for decoration.” He turned around and headed for the sofa facing two cushy-looking side chairs.

Carlos stopped him with, “I don’t think so. We need someone to carry bags for Miss Saxe.”

“Your arm broke?” Jeremy spouted off.

“No, mine’s just fine. Yours may end up snapped if you don’t get over here and act like someone employed by a woman who is heir to a fortune.”

Jeremy scowled, but got to his feet and stormed past Carlos, who started to jerk him back inside to clarify his role.

But the minute Jeremy’s feet hit the steps going down, the guy turned like a chameleon, marching ahead of Carlos with military-straight posture. That was saying something since Carlos knew Jeremy had never been near the military and they wouldn’t have taken the surf hound with Jeremy’s prison record.

At the car, Carlos tapped for the driver to open the locks, then he helped Gabrielle to her feet. She took in everything going on in silence.

Jeremy removed the bags from the car and stepped around to face Gabrielle. “Nice to have you back on board, Miss Saxe.”

“Merci. Nice to meet you, too.” She glanced at Carlos, but kept up the charade while he closed the trunk.

When Carlos stepped back around the limousine, Jeremy was saying, “I’m at your service, day…or night.”

The minute the limo pulled away, Carlos leaned close and said, “Don’t even think about acting on what I see in your eyes if you want to return home with all your parts in working order.” Then Carlos told Gabrielle, “This is Jeremy, one of our people who you will not see again after we land.”

“Nice to meet you, Gabrielle.” Jeremy smirked and carried the bags to the airplane.

Gabrielle laughed. “He’s sweet.”

“No, he’s not sweet.” Carlos wanted to wring his neck. “Jeremy is just as dangerous as every other operative in this group, maybe more so since we never know what he’s going to do. Joe must have been desperate for a copilot to send him.”

“So he’s a pilot, too?”

The admiration in her voice hiked Carlos’s irritation another notch. “No, he’s not a pilot. Jeremy is as much use in that cockpit as a blow-up doll. Actually, that’s not fair since the blow-up doll could be used as an air bag.”

At the top of the steps, Jake had the door to the cockpit open. Carlos introduced Gabrielle to Jake, saying, “He’s the only real pilot on board.”

“So you don’t need a copilot?” Gabrielle sounded worried.

“No way.”

Her shoulders relaxed.

“I’ve got autopilot for when I need to grab some shut-eye.”

“What?” She stabbed that question at Carlos.

“Much as I hate to admit it in front of him since we barely have room for his ego in the cockpit as it is, he’s the one pilot you want flying in any situation.”

Jake gave her a Southern-fried grin. “Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll be landing in Milano in time for lunch.”

Carlos led her into the cabin, considering how Interpol’s international APB had thrown a new kink into the plans. BAD played by their own rules, and Interpol had no idea whom they were dealing with.

He sent a silent thanks to Joe for the quick plan he’d created to shield Gabrielle’s identity for now, but that wouldn’t last.

VESTAVIA PACED THE marble floor of the hallway between the kitchen and living room of his Miami condominium. At four in the morning this was a damn lonely place without Josie.

His cell phone rang. Vestavia glared at the sound, anticipating a call from that arrogant prick in South America. He had to find Mirage before Durand did. But when he checked the caller ID, it was his contact at the École d’Ascension, telling him that Saxe woman had finished converting their computer programs to the new system.

“She finished the software conversion this quickly?” Vestavia was both glad and suspicious.

“Oui. She and her bodyguard just left.”

“Where are they headed?”

“To Carcassonne airport, but they aren’t taking a commercial flight as we’d assumed since she arrived that way. We received a call that her private jet had just been released from repairs and was waiting on them at the airport.”

“I want their destination,” Vestavia demanded.

“Not a problem. I have a cousin who is an air traffic controller. They are going to Milano, but I have no idea what their final destination will be.”

“That’s good enough,” Vestavia assured him, then considered the next move. “Your IT team is satisfied they understand the program and don’t need her again?”

“Absolutely. She left them an online instructional guide to troubleshoot anything that came up and default plans for if they had to reinstall any part.”

“Okay, I can live with that.”

A sound of relief hushed through the lines. “I’m so glad. I was worried her access to the computers presented a problem.”

“No. Carry on and keep me informed, Pierre.”

“Of course, Fra.”

Vestavia closed his cell phone on the way to the silver leather sofa in his living room. He sat down heavily and flipped open the file on his glass coffee table. Everything on Gabrielle Saxe anyone wanted to know was in there, including the one person who could tidy up for him.

He hadn’t survived this long by being careless. Allowing someone with her level of computer expertise access to the school records could be harmless, or not. He had too much depending on the successful movement of those teens to risk allowing one computer geek to walk around free who might have access to those files.

The school was only one ripe hunting ground in hundreds they’d found for D-ange-ruese connections, but Vestavia hated to lose a valuable resource.

If the Saxe woman could program all that, she could infiltrate the program for someone else, voluntarily or involuntarily. He couldn’t risk that.

Sifting through the file on the Saxe woman, he stopped at the page with a list of every significant person she’d associated with since entering and leaving the school. Saxe had become a recluse after she’d almost died from two suspicious accidents. The authorities would have figured out who was behind the accidents if she’d reported them, but she’d never said a word in complaint or about the life insurance policies.

Given a chance, her ex-husband would finish the job.

Vestavia smiled. He was all about giving a person a chance.

“SO DOES LINETTE’S family own much property?” Carlos split his attention between Gabrielle’s nervousness and guiding their rental car along the winding roads that had started to climb once they left Bergamo. She’d been so silent, speaking only to give directions.

“They have a hilltop home and land that covers probably a thousand acres.” Gabrielle stared out the window where the scenery had changed over the past couple miles from a lush valley to rocky outcroppings. “Most people do not own so much land, but this estate has been in her father’s family since the sixteenth century.”

Gabrielle fiddled with the small gold locket that appeared as old as her friend’s family home. She had laughed off her worry about being recognized by anyone as some misplaced vanity.

He thought she’d brought up a valid concern, one he’d passed on to Rae by cell phone while Gabrielle had freshened up in a restaurant ladies’ room after landing. Now he had more to worry about than Gabrielle trying to take flight.

Carlos had kept a close eye on her the whole trip, but he felt pretty certain she wouldn’t stray far from him now that he knew her sister Babette was at the school. Otherwise, Gabrielle would try to escape the first chance she had. He’d do the same in her shoes, but she wouldn’t risk BAD using her sister as leverage.

What Gabrielle didn’t know was that Carlos hadn’t said a word about Babette to anyone at BAD.

“Sure you remember how to get there?” he joked. “We haven’t seen another car since that last turn twenty minutes ago.”

“That’s because we’ve been on Tassone property most of that time.” Gabrielle studied the landscape for a moment, then said, “Linette used to tell me how isolated she felt up there. She was fairly athletic, good at running and climbing since that was the only way she could meet other children to play games with.”

“She must have been lonely to make the trek up and down these hills,” Carlos muttered. “What about the Tynte home? Has it been owned by one family just as long?”

The smile left Gabrielle’s eyes first. “Yes, my mother was the last Tynte heir before me.”

Was. He let her ride quietly for a few minutes, then asked, “What happened to your mother?”

“She was killed…in an accident. I was eleven.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to open a wound.” He’d lost his biological mother the day he was born even though she really didn’t die for another ten years, so Carlos couldn’t relate to Gabrielle’s loss of a mother.

If anything happened to his aunt Maria, yes.

“No, it’s fine,” Gabrielle said. “I just don’t think on it often.”

When she didn’t say more, he went for a change in subject to something he felt she could expound on. “You seem to have solid resources in South America.” He glanced over when her fingers curled tight. “I’m not asking for your contacts, Gabrielle. I’d just like to hear what else you know about the Anguis. Anything you could tell me about Durand and his men could be helpful on this mission.”

Her hand relaxed and she chewed on one corner of her lip. “I hate to say this in a way that sounds flattering, but Durand’s really good at what he does. He expects one hundred percent loyalty from his people.”

“You know what any of his men look like?” The road he followed climbed through stunning vistas. Wide blue sky backdropped each outer curve of switchbacks up the mountain.

“Durand marks his men.”

“How?” Carlos gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“With a tattoo…on their chest.”

His heartbeat thumped faster. “What kind of tattoo?”

“I don’t know, just that it’s on their chest. My contacts either don’t know or are afraid to tell me that much.”

He exhaled slowly, relieved to finally have that answer. “Lots of men have tattoos on their chest…even me.”

“Really? What does yours look like?”

“Snake and dagger. Had it done when I was really young,” he said dismissively. “What made you research the Anguis the first time?”

“Nothing in particular.”

She’d answered too quickly. Gabrielle was hiding something, but pushing her more right now would be a bad tactical move that might make her cautious about discussing more with him.

He slowed as they approached two short walls on each side of a drive made of yellow and white rocks. Naked vines spiderwebbed across the barriers. Weeds grew thick in front of the walls and sprouted between the stones of the drive.

“That’s the formal entrance to the property.” Her eyes lit with anticipation, then dimmed. “Linette said her father was anal about keeping the landscape perfect to the point she had to spend her Saturdays doing gardening.”

Carlos drove through the entrance, proceeding slowly as Gabrielle pointed out the trees lining the drive as umbrella pines. The impressive three-story structure with pale gray stone walls and a terra-cotta roof had been tucked into the hillside for so many years the house appeared to be part of the terrain. The afternoon sun cast deep shadows beneath an arched walkway hugging one side of the house.

But again, the lack of maintenance in weathered shutters and rusting wrought iron along the gabled windows and the balconies didn’t fit with Gabrielle’s recollection of Linette’s anal father.

Gabrielle had fallen silent again.

Carlos parked next to a tiered fountain of cherubs pouring water from one vase to another, but no water flowed through this fountain. Invasive vines crept along the statue. He circled the car and helped Gabrielle out.

When they reached the top of the decaying stone steps, he lifted the heavy, unpolished doorknocker shaped as a lion’s head and banged three times.

Gabrielle told herself to focus on the mission and not the disturbing condition of the property. But worry over Linette’s father kept cramping her thoughts.

The door opened to a short dumpling of a woman with more gray than black hair and a plump face that had aged well for being around sixty. “Bon giorno. Come stai?”

“Parla inglese?” Gabrielle asked, requesting English to be spoken.

“Sí. I know pretty good English.”

“You are?” Gabrielle prompted.

“Housekeeper.”

That couldn’t be right, but Gabrielle moved ahead. “I’m looking for the Tassone family.”

“Signore Tassone and his wife traveling.”

“Really? Where did they go? I’d like to contact them.” Gabrielle tried to imagine Linette’s parents spending a nickel to travel far since her friend had often bemoaned her father’s overly frugal attitude.

“They cruise Mediterranean. Signore Tassone gave strict orders. No bother him.”

“Do you know when they’ll return?” Gabrielle glanced past the woman, but saw little in the dark room behind the half-open door.

“Who know?” The housekeeper kept her gaze averted and shrugged. “Sometimes few weeks, sometimes few months. Just left this week.”

Carlos took Gabrielle’s arm. “Okay, we better hit the road if we want to get back to the airport in time for that flight.”

“Yes, let’s go. Grazie,” Gabrielle told the woman, then turned to leave.

“Signora? What your name?”

Gabrielle stopped, and as she turned to answer the woman, Carlos grabbed her hand and squeezed. She understood his message not to share her name.

“My mama was Madame Gervais. She met Signora Tassone on a cruise and asked me to stop by when I came to Milano, but Mama died six months ago. I just wanted to tell the signora hello and that Mama enjoyed their conversations. Grazie. Bon giorno.”

Carlos had the car in gear and was driving away from the house when he said, “So what’s going on?”

“Linette’s father was very tight with the family purse. Her mother rarely came to visit Linette because she got motion sick when she rode in cars for a long time, airsick on airplanes, and was too afraid of the water to cruise. I don’t know who that woman was at the house, but she does not know the Tassone family.”

Carlos slowed as they passed through the entrance and started back down the drive that would take over a half hour to get off the mountain. He didn’t like this one way up and one way down, but that might just be a case of paranoia over having Gabrielle with him and no backup nearby.

“Linette’s father would never have given up that home,” Gabrielle added, wringing her hands together, then stopped and looked up at Carlos. “Linette said once when she asked her father if they could move to a new house, he told her the only way he was leaving his home was in a wooden box. Do you think they are dead?” she whispered.

“I don’t know.” He drove on, creeping slowly around a tight turn that leveled out for a kilometer.

She took in the tense muscles in his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, but I’ll feel better once we reach the main roads. Rae and Korbin should have a place scouted out for us to stay tonight in Milano. We’ll give Gotthard this information and see what he can track down.”

Gabrielle sat back and thought about Linette’s parents, searching for a logical reason they would have changed so much.

Carlos maneuvered the car through a tight right-hand turn around a wall of rock and bushes hanging close to the road that blocked any view through the curve. On the other side was another long stretch of road with dips in the hills bordering the right side and a sheer drop-off for several hundred feet down the left.

A compact, red Italian sports car had spun out, blocking the road farther down. The driver’s door was wide-open and a man slumped over the wheel.

Slowing down, Carlos parked four car lengths away.

“It looks like the driver is hurt.” Gabrielle started to reach for the door handle.

“Don’t get out of the car.” Carlos opened his door and stepped out.

“Give me your cell phone. We need an ambulance.” Gabrielle extended an open palm to him for the phone.

She realized why he hesitated. If he left her the phone and walked away, she could call someone to help her escape. To hand over his phone would show a trust in her she doubted this man allowed any person.

He didn’t move to lift the phone from the clip on his belt.

Gabrielle lowered her hand, hurt more than she wanted to admit by his lack of faith.

“Here.” Carlos snatched up the phone and keyed a button, then flipped it to her. She caught the phone in midair, shocked and heartened by the trust he’d shown her.

“It’s ready to dial,” he said, and walked away.

She pressed the emergency number that went through, but the minute the operator answered she lost the call. Gabrielle checked the connection. No cell tower.

How could she lose a tower without moving?

One of the great mysteries of cell phones.

She grumbled and reached around for her laptop out of habit before she got out of the car. She could use her blouse to make a bandage since it was warm enough to just wear the silk top she had on with her linen pants.

When she glanced ahead again, Carlos was almost to the car.

The driver sat up and jumped from the car, running for a valley in the hills lining the road.

Carlos spun and took off at a full run. His face went from furious to frightened when he saw her. “Run!”

She did, just as fast as she could. He caught up to her and grabbed her by the waist, yanking her off the ground, charging toward a dip in the hills on their side.

The explosion knocked him into the air.

She hit the ground sideways wrapped in his arms. Compression from the blast rushed across the open space like an invisible tidal wave of pressure to slam their bodies again. A second explosion shook the ground beneath her. Crashing banged and banged again right behind the explosion’s initial impact.

She couldn’t breathe. Gabrielle wheezed, fighting for air.

“It’s okay, try to calm down.” Carlos’s voice sounded so far away. Her chest and lungs hurt like the devil. “You’ve had the wind knocked out of you,” he told her.

He sat up, holding her in his arms. His face had scrapes and cuts, but he was alive. Oh, dear God, he could have died.

She tried to talk. Nothing came out.

“Shhh. Just work on breathing.”

When she could finally fill her lungs, she drew a shaky breath, then nodded to let him know she was okay for the moment. He helped her stand. They turned around.

Their rental car was gone.

Vanished. Poof. No car.

“Where is it?” she croaked.

Carlos led her to the side of the road where their lovely Mercedes had rolled all the way down the ravine. The explosion must have blown it off the road.

“If I’d have stayed in the car, I’d be dead now,” she whispered. Gabrielle’s knees folded.

“Whoa. Don’t pass out on me.” Carlos lifted her into his arms and walked to the cut in the hills where he found a shady spot and sat down. “I have to assume they aren’t going to shoot us or they wouldn’t have gone through that much trouble to make it look like an accident. The other car had to be full of aircraft fuel for that kind of explosion.”

Helicopter blades whomped overhead.

“Oh, God. Are they coming back?” Gabrielle cringed.

“No, that should be my people.”

“How would they know?”

“I keyed an emergency call to Jake before I gave you the phone. Jeremy had a tracking device on this car for insurance to find us if anything happened.”

“And the helicopter?”

“I told you Jake is the man to have when it comes to flying anything. He’s also the one person who can confiscate something that flies at any time. Before we left, he located a small airport close to here and said he’d be prepared.”

By the time they reached the airport in Milano and climbed out of the helicopter, Gabrielle was sorely missing her rental house on the lake back in Georgia.

“Want to fly somewhere else tonight?” Jake asked Carlos, then handed Jeremy their suitcases he’d kept stowed until now.

“No. Rae and Korbin have already reconned the city. I’d rather stay here where I have four of you close to help protect Gabrielle while we update the office and figure out where we’re going from here.”

“Okay, I volunteer for the first shift of protecting Gabrielle tonight.” Jeremy walked back up giving that offer in his Boy Scout voice, but Gabrielle doubted he’d been one.

Carlos stepped close and said something to Jeremy too low for her to hear, but she’d seen his fury once already today when he’d turned around and yelled at her to run.

And he’d only played at intimidating Pierre and the others at the school.

This was not the playful side of Carlos. Veins stuck out the side of his neck. His hands were clenched into fists.

Jeremy took a step back. Probably a healthy decision.

Carlos finished whatever he was saying and just stood there, glaring at Jeremy, who lifted his hands in a confused motion. “You don’t want a volunteer, fine. I’ll sleep in.” He backed up another couple steps.

Jake took in everything between Carlos and Jeremy without a word, but his eyebrows were staked high with interest.

Carlos drew in a breath and scratched his chin, then told Jeremy in a calmer voice, “Thanks for the offer just the same.”

Jake chuckled.

Carlos cut a look at him that could maim, then turned a warm gaze to Gabrielle. “Ready to get cleaned up?”

“Oui.” She walked with him to another car, this one an identical copy of the silver sedan they’d lost. When they got inside, she asked, “What was that all about?”

“Just clarifying Jeremy’s role in this mission.” Carlos lifted his hand to her forehead, his fingers gently brushing a tender spot. “How are you doing?”

“Ouch. Fine, until you showed me I’d hit my head.” She felt the lump with her fingers. Must have been adrenaline keeping the ache at bay. Now her head throbbed all at once.

“Korbin and Rae have us already checked into the hotel and they’ll be in a room close by.”

“I’m okay, really. I don’t break easily.” Not physically, but she made no guarantee about her heart.

Once she was in the car, he leaned over and clipped her seat belt, then kissed her on the cheek and straightened. “Fifteen minutes and we’ll be there.”

“Do you think it was Durand?” she asked, voicing the worry that had nagged her.

“Not his style.”

She thought on that for a moment until it hit her whom the person behind the attack had to be. Roberto. But how did he know she was here? And…would he try again?

When they reached the hotel, Carlos had her upstairs and in the bathroom showering before she could count to ten. Her relief at being here with him was short-lived when he refused to shower with her.

What had changed since this morning?

CARLOS CLOSED THE door to the bathroom, which was modest compared to what they’d left in France, and walked into the contemporarily furnished living room with a cream-colored, overstuffed, six-foot sofa and matching chair. He flipped the wall switch, turning on a pair of circular lamps hung from the ten-foot ceiling on chains above glass and metal end tables.

A double tap sounded at the door to the suite. He opened it to Rae and Korbin, both in jeans and looking a little worn down. Camping out hadn’t been a treat for either of them.

“Where’s Gabrielle?” Rae walked in, looking around. Her hair was still damp from a shower. She carried a laptop case.

“In the shower. I’ll be back in a couple hours.” Carlos accepted the 9 mm Korbin handed him on his way into the suite and shoved the weapon between the small of his back and his jeans, covered by a long-sleeved denim shirt he’d left untucked.

“So where are you going?” Rae asked Carlos, but the sinister glare brooding on her face shifted to Korbin. “What have you two discussed?”

Carlos didn’t answer her right away. He looked at Korbin, who just shrugged and told Carlos, “You’ve got until daylight before I have to check in with Joe.”

“Thanks. I owe you.” Carlos would pay that marker in the future to Korbin without question for giving him a window of time to go off the grid tonight. And for keeping Gabrielle safe while he was gone. He turned to Rae. “I’m preventing any future accidents from happening and eliminating one person from trying to kill Gabrielle.”

“It’s like that, huh?” Rae’s eyes lit with understanding and a gleam of warmth he wouldn’t have expected from the hard-nosed operative.

Carlos could deny what she insinuated-that this was now personal for him-but he’d be wasting his breath since Rae had already put together the puzzle pieces. That was her specialty. She would have scanned Gotthard’s report, which likely included Roberto’s history and residences since he’d been married to Gabrielle. Rae would then have added that information to Gabrielle’s barely escaping two previous mysterious accidents that had sent her into hiding, then Rae would have tied it all together with the insurance policies Gotthard had no doubt located.

Yes, Rae knew where Carlos was headed, but oddly she wasn’t in his face about how dealing with Roberto had nothing to do with the BAD mission.

“Just tell Gabrielle I’ll be back tonight.” Carlos wished he could do this without involving others, but BAD agents backed each other in any situation. Another reason they were like no other teams on the globe. “I know it’s not fair to ask this, but I’d appreciate it if we kept this between the three of us.”

Rae smiled. “You got it, luv. I admire a man who fights for what is his.” She sent a pointed look at Korbin.

Korbin’s face was a mix of humor and confusion. Carlos did a double take at her since he’d never heard Rae make an overtly feminine comment to a male agent, and on a job to boot.

“Thanks, but she isn’t mine.” Carlos turned to leave.

“And here I’d given you credit for not trying to wonk me with a line of bullshit,” Rae added. “Be safe. We’ll take care of your woman.”

Carlos sighed and left.

Gabrielle wasn’t his to keep, but he intended to ensure Roberto never bothered her again.

GABRIELLE WALKED OUT of the bathroom in a terry robe provided by the hotel. She was drying her hair with a towel when she stopped in the middle of the living area.

“And where is Carlos?” she asked Rae and Korbin.

“He’s busy, luv.” Rae flipped through the magazine in her lap. Korbin didn’t move from his reclined position. Head back, eyes shut, and breathing almost undetectable. Was he asleep?

So Carlos refused to shower with her, then just left without a word? What was going on with him? Gabrielle strangled the towel in her tight grip, sick of sly and evasive answers.

“That’s not enough of an answer, luv,” Gabrielle snapped back.

Rae paused in scanning the magazine, lifted a curious gaze, sighed, then continued flipping through the bloody magazine.

“Where. Is. He?” Gabrielle demanded.

“Busy,” Korbin said without opening his eyes. “That’s all we can tell you right now, but he should be back by daylight.”

Cracking a bank safe would be easier than pulling anything out of those two.

“Fine.” Gabrielle hated the disappointment so thick in her throat it crowded that one word. She turned back to the bedroom and closed the door.

By the time she’d finished dressing in jeans and a white sweater, Gabrielle heard what sounded like food being served. Stay in the room and pout over being blown off by Carlos or go out and see what she could squeeze out of those two in the other room while she ate?

She thought clearer on a full stomach anyhow.

Gabrielle opened the door to the succulent aroma of dishes being uncovered and placed around a table with four chairs. Rae and Korbin were already digging in.

Gabrielle sat in front of the only unclaimed meal on the table. “So you don’t expect Carlos back in time to eat?”

Korbin shoved a piece of steak into his mouth, conveniently sidestepping the conversation.

“Not sure.” Rae pushed each food on her plate apart so that nothing touched. “We’d like to discuss some things while he’s gone.”

That played into what Gabrielle had in mind. “Sure. I’ve got a few questions of my own.”

Rae finished sorting her food and raised her vivid gaze to Gabrielle’s. “I give you points for persistence, but you lose a few for being slow on the uptake. We don’t answer questions. We ask them. To begin with, tell me about Babette Saxe.”

Gabrielle’s mouth gaped open. She might have earned Carlos’s trust, but he’d lost hers by exposing Babette to this group.

CARLOS WALKED SOFTLY through the ostentatious bedroom cast in twilight from the lights of Milano outside a wall of glass overlooking the city. Roberto’s security was all show and little substance.

What idiot stayed in a place this vulnerable?

An arrogant one.

If Carlos had faced dealing with more than one bodyguard to gain access to the penthouse, he could just as easily have rappelled one floor to the balcony beyond the glass doors.

Hell, he could probably have jumped from the roof.

When he reached the bed, it was all he could do not to break out laughing. Roberto’s dark brown hair was thick, just below his ears, styled and sprayed into the perfect shape. The guy lay spread eagle on top of red silk sheets. He wore skimpy black underwear.

Was that a thong for men? Ugh.

That would make what Carlos had in mind even easier to execute.

Roberto’s toned form was too lightweight to have been the ripped body in that billboard Carlos had seen on the way here. Guess that was why they employ stuntmen and body doubles.

No stuntman to take the fall for Roberto tonight.

Carlos stepped close and flicked on the lamp next to the bed. The light glowed red. He rolled his eyes, imaging the lamp being used for mood lighting for the women this fool brought here.

“Wake up, Roberto,” Carlos ordered in a normal voice.

Roberto muttered something like “Go away.”

Carlos retrieved his switchblade and hit the release. He used the razor-sharp blade to flip a lock of hair onto the actor’s forehead. Roberto swatted, hitting himself in the face and coming awake growling.

He glanced at Carlos, then his eyes widened. “Bruno!”

“Your bodyguard is sound asleep.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” Roberto made those demands while scooting backward a few inches.

Carlos pointed the knife tip at Roberto’s face, freezing the weasel in place. “Be very still or I’ll be forced to contain you. Understand?”

Roberto nodded like a bobblehead doll on speed.

“Good. I’m here for one reason and don’t have a lot of time to waste on this. I know about all three attacks on Gabrielle and that you’re behind them. That ends now.”

“I don’t know what you’re-”

Carlos touched the knife tip to Roberto’s lips, stalling the denial.

“Remember the part about me being in a hurry?” Carlos lifted the knife from Roberto’s face and waited on the fast nod again before going on. He moved the blade down until he slipped it under one strap of Roberto’s thong.

“Oh, no…please, don’t.” Roberto sucked a sharp breath, trembling. His eyes stared at where the knife was a sneeze away from cutting Big Jim.

Or in this guy’s case, nipping Junior.

“I had no idea they could make a male thong that small,” Carlos taunted.

“Who are you?”

“Gabrielle’s new bodyguard, and I take my job seriously.”

“What the hell do you want?” Roberto yelled, the power in his voice fueled by a healthy load of fear.

That was more like it. This bastard had to pay for what he’d put Gabrielle through for the past ten years…and almost killing her today.

“What do I want?” Carlos echoed. “Very simple. Don’t ever bother Gabrielle again. Don’t even think about her in the future. Don’t go near her and don’t send any of your idiots to try to harm her again.”

“Okay, okay. I’m not admitting to anything,” Roberto added quickly. “But I swear not to have anything to do with Gabrielle in any way again.” The color started coming back into his face too fast to suit Carlos.

“You don’t really think I’d just take your word for this, do you?”

“Come on. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Carlos slid the knife closer, nicking the skin.

Roberto wailed as if his leg had been cut off. Big mistake to let an enemy know how easily you bleed.

“Shut up or I will cut something off.”

Silence. Well, whimpering was quieter than Roberto screaming like a toddler who wanted a bottle.

“I’m going to give you a choice.” Carlos waited until he had Roberto’s full attention. “I can either carve a scar from your forehead, across your nose and down around your cheek to your ear or take your left nut.”

“Are you crazy?” Roberto ruined his insult by crying. “I’ll give you money, anything. Tell her I’m sorry. I’ll give her money. I never wanted to hurt her…”

Carlos rolled his eyes, waiting on the hysteria to subside.

Roberto sniffled, swollen eyes streaked with tears, body shaking uncontrollably, and if this went much longer, he’d probably need a clean thong.

When he quieted again, Carlos told him, “It’s an easy choice, really. Lose your nut, you’ll bleed a little, but you can still do the big-screen movies. However, it’s probably going to cut into your love life, but from what I can see-” He glanced at the shriveling pouch on Roberto’s thong. “Based on that dinky sac, you really ought to keep your face in prime shape.”

Roberto started swearing all over again how he wouldn’t touch Gabrielle.

Carlos flipped the knife quickly to Roberto’s cheek. That shut him up. “I’m not leaving here until I’m convinced you really believe me when I say I will come back and there will be no choices the next time.”