Caridad Pineiro – Secret Agent Reunion (страница 9)
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. “
“
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
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.