Run To Rome

Expression tight, he strode to the nearest window as he zipped his pants and peered through the glass, cursing a string of swear words worthy of any thwarted movie villain.

The alarm went silent.

“I saw a shadow outside one of the downstairs windows,” Halli whispered.

Trent glanced over his shoulder. “For God’s sake, get out of the line of sight then.”

Her fingers tightened on the camera clutched against her chest as she hurried to his side against the wall.

“Please tell me the memory card is still in that thing.”

“It is.”

Trent leaned forward slightly to peer outside. “Did you get a copy made?”

“It’s still in your machine.”

He swore again.

“What—”

He cut her off with a jerk of his hand. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears in the dead quiet. Somewhere in the house, a door slammed. Halli moved closer, pressing up against Trent’s wet back. His muscles tensed.

“Okay, I’ve got a plan…”

“I like plans,” she assured him.

“Assuming this is Lapaglia, we’ve got to get the hell out of here. My car is out—we won’t make it to the garage—but my balcony stairs lead down to the pool deck, which will take us to the lake. Ever drive a boat?”

“My brother’s ski boat.”

“Close enough. I have a cabin cruiser in the boat house and the key is hanging next to the light switch on the right side of the door. Don’t turn on the lights. I’ll get us in and open the front doors, you untie the boat and get it started. Got it?”

She nodded. Good God, she was still having a hell of a time catching her breath.

Trent reached for the window latch. “Stick right with me, and whatever the hell happens, do not lose that camera.”

He shoved the window wide open, and Halli slid her arm through the camera strap and draped it around her neck and diagonally across her chest before following him onto the balcony. Faint light from the pool glowed below, but up here, they were enclosed in darkness. Afraid of losing him, she grabbed hold of the back waistband of Trent’s jeans. He reached around to remove her hand, wrapping his fingers tight around hers as he led her down the stairs that descended to the patio. The warmth of his large hand gave her a boost of reassurance.

At first they kept close to the villa, and Halli ran her free hand along the cool, coarse stones that made up the outside walls of his home. Surprisingly, the solid mass beneath her fingers offered a sense of safety. Then he pulled her away from the wall toward the pool.

Two strides into the open, she caught a flash of shadow from the corner of her eye. She whipped her head around in time to see a dark figure lunge at them. She screamed Trent’s name as the man caught her free arm. One vicious yank tore Halli’s hand from Trent’s grasp. She cried out again, stumbling backward. An arm closed around her neck, and another rose up, pointed at Trent.

In the glow of light from the pool, Halli saw the outline of a gun in a gloved hand. She threw her head back as hard as she could into her captor’s face. Pain radiated through her already tender skull. The man cried out in a hoarse voice at the same time she heard a sharp little clicking noise, followed by what sounded like a kernel of popcorn popping. The arm around her neck loosened.

Trent swore; a vicious, guttural explosion of words. Halli thrust her elbow back, got in a sharp jab to her assailant’s ribs, and broke free when the man gasped for air. Trent pulled her out of the way, and she experienced a second of relief that he was okay.

“Go,” he ordered with a push, his voice rough and hard. “Follow the plan. I’m right behind you.”

Halli didn’t need to be told twice. She bolted into the darkness, toward the grayish outline of the white boat house. With every step across the dew-wet yard, her camera banged against her side. Deep grunts of exertion and the drag of metal on stone made her glance over her shoulder toward the patio.

Adrenaline surged at the sight of a short, dark figure only yards behind her—and definitely not Trent. Her lungs burned, legs ached. Fear clogged her throat. She’d never outrun the man in the slippery grass.

Seconds later, a heavy body slammed into her from behind. She cried out as they both tumbled to the slick ground. Labored breathing filled the air. A brutal grip on her arm forced her onto her back. In the sallow light of a partial moon, menace gleamed in his dark eyes and twisted his thin lips. She struggled against his cruel hold, but his suffocating weight pressed her back into the hard earth.

One meaty hand latched onto the camera strap around her neck and pulled hard. The nylon bit painfully into her skin, but held. When he yanked a second time, Halli reached up and raked her nails across his face, digging in as hard as she could. He reared back with a pained roar. Four dark lines appeared on his cheek, all the way to his chin.

She scrambled backward on her hands and feet, constricted lungs sucking in air. Just when she thought she’d escaped, a vice grip locked on her ankle and dragged her back over the wet grass.