Run To Rome

“What in the world is going on, anyway? Are you filming a movie or something?”

“I wish.” He took the next turn so hard her shoulder hit his as they cornered on two, squealing wheels. When she didn’t respond right away, he saw her staring at the holes in his windshield as if she’d just now noticed them.

“You mean...those were real bullets?”

“What the hell else would they be?”

Another sharp turn assisted her back to her side of the vehicle.

“Real guns?”

A quick look at the girl’s dazed expression and Trent knew exactly how she felt. If he looked anything like she did…he pulled down his Ray Bans from on top his head. He’d never done this in real life before, only in carefully choreographed scenes with numerous stuntmen.

The front end of his convertible took out a sign and side-swiped a garbage dumpster with the next turn. Damn it. He’d just bought this baby last week! Hadn’t even had a chance to open it up and see what it could do on the auto strata. This was not the way to break in the engine—and he didn’t even want to look at the body.

A few stuntmen right about now would be more than welcome. “Listen, make yourself useful and see if they’re still behind us.”

“Who?” She turned around in her seat.

He reached over and jerked on her shoulder. “Stay down!”

“How am I supposed to look if I—”

“Around the headrest. What the hell,” he muttered. “You have enough common sense to not get in a car with me, but pop up for target practice?”

“Hey, I was right about you. You kidnapped me!”

“I saved your life, and I did say please. Now shut up and look for a black car.”

Halli peered around the headrest. No speeding black car giving chase. No dangerous looking bad guys toting guns. Real guns. She felt a little lightheaded, but maybe it was the jetlag. Or the bump on the head when she’d hit the floor. Or the way the car swerved back and forth and up and down on the mountain roads, like a bad roller coaster. Very bad.

How had she ended up here? She’d had plans for this trip. Detailed plans that hadn’t included a stop along the shore of Lake Como until tomorrow at two p.m.

Back home, Ben had laughed at her itinerary and tossed it in the garbage. Then he said he understood her need for structure and stability, but it was time for her to stop letting the choices their parents had made rule her life. That had really struck home and the week prior to their trip, he’d worn her down, and she’d actually convinced herself touring Italy whichever way the wind blew them could be fun. And bonus—maybe she’d even get a little control over her anxiety.

She’d even managed to keep her cool when Ben had swerved onto the side of the road out of the blue before they’d found their hotel and Rachel’s stupid hair dryer converter. He’d promised to go easy on her, so she’d figured a stop by the lake wasn’t too bad.

Of course, she still had an extra copy of that itinerary tucked in with her passport, but—

“Well?” Trent Tomlin demanded.

Trent Tomlin! America’s dark-haired, sexy playboy god. She hadn’t even recognized him until he smiled, and now she understood why. He’d taken the scruff look to the extreme with a dark five-o’clock shadow, windblown hair, and tightly compressed, uncompromising lips. He darted a glance to the one remaining mirror and she gave her head a quick shake. Black car. Bad guys. She squinted at the narrow ribbon of road behind them.

“I think you lost them.”

“You’re sure?”

“I don’t see any black cars.” Wherever they were, there was substantially less traffic, so she was pretty confident in her assessment.

He slowed the convertible a hair, enough so the next turn didn’t throw her body against his; just close enough for her accelerated breathing to catch another heady dose of his scent. Citrus and spice, with a subtle musky base. Almost earthy. She inhaled again before she could help herself. Of course Trent Tomlin would smell great.

Man, she had to get a grip. He’d kidnapped her! As she pushed back into her own seat, his earlier words finally registered on her short-circuited brain.

“What do you mean, you saved my life?”

After giving her a brief glimpse of her own confused expression in his mirrored glasses, he returned his attention to the road. “Grab me that baseball cap down by your feet.”

Halli automatically leaned forward and swept the floor with her hand. When she sat back with the navy blue cap, she jerked away from his reaching hand. “You put my life in danger, you didn’t save it. Because of you, I almost got shot.”