Passion (In Wilde Country 2)

“What did Caleb tell him?”

Zach laughed. “Nothing. Some legal mumbo jumbo that probably would make sense to you, but not to us mere mortals without law degrees, which was the general idea.”

Matteo smiled. “Tell Caleb I said thanks.”

“No problem.” He paused.“ Okay. Now, pay attention. The house has three points of entry. A back door. A front door. A door that connects to the garage. The doors and windows are all locked and alarmed. You’ll access the house through the garage. You’ll find a digital device for it in the Cherokee’s glove box. The keypad code for opening the doors is seven oh four nine three T as in Thomas S as in Sam. Repeat that, please, and write it down.”

“Seven oh four nine three T as in Thomas S as in Sam,” Matteo said, and scribbled the numbers and letters in the notepad.

“I’m going to give you directions. Route numbers. Mileage indicators. The data’s all on the GPS in the Cherokee, but just in case…”

Five minutes later, Zach said they were done.

“Almost done,” he added. “There’s just one or two more things.”

“For instance?”

“Caleb and I are doing some checking. We’ll find out if this guy, Pastore, is really on your tail or if he’s bullshitting you. Once we know, we’ll act.”

“Act?”

“We’ll… deal with the situation.”

“Zach. Listen, I don’t want you and Caleb to put yourselves at risk.”

“We’ll keep you informed,” Zach said, as if Matteo hadn’t spoken. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to send you a couple of my men.”

“Security guards.”

Zach laughed. “Yeah. Something like that. Meanwhile, do you know anything about guns?”

The second he heard the question, Matteo realized he’d been expecting it, or something close to it.

“If you mean do I know how to use one, the answer is yes. I do.”

There had been guns in the house where he’d grown up. When he was ten or eleven, he’d asked his mother the reason.

He still remembered how she’d shrugged.

“Questo è Sicily,” she’d said. This is Sicily.

It had seemed a perfectly logical explanation.

By that same line of reasoning, it had seemed logical for him and Luca to take the guns into the hills to learn to shoot. Luca had given it up; Matteo had stayed with it, on and off, into adulthood. He’d developed into a highly accurate target shooter. He hadn’t done any shooting in a long time, but he figured it was like riding a bicycle.

Once you mastered the skill, it was yours.

“I’m relieved to hear it,” Zach said. “The house has a gun safe.”

Any other time, Matteo would have laughed. James Bond? No question about it.

“Right. Where?”

“There’s a finished lower level. Pool table. Ping pong table. Dartboard.” Zach paused. “Gun safe.”

“Where do I find the key?”

“There’s a touch pad.” Zach told him the code. “Write it down.”

Matteo wrote down a series of numbers, thinking it was a damn good thing Caleb had warned him to get hold of paper and pen.

“Check out what’s in the safe. See what suits you.” Zach paused. “I’ve had something added to what we normally would stock. A Ruger LCP. Are you familiar with it?”

“Never heard of it.”

“LCP stands for Lightweight Compact Pistol. It’s a subcompact, what they call a lady’s gun—not that I think women can’t handle the real stuff, but just in case your particular lady isn’t familiar with guns, this one’s easy and light to handle.”

Matteo shot a glance at Ariel. She raised her eyebrows. He signaled ‘give me a minute’ with an upraised index finger, opened the car door, got out and walked a few feet away.

“The gun is for Ariel? Aside from anything else, like whether or not she’s willing to deal with it, she has a broken wrist.”

“Broken wrist. On the hand she normally uses?”

Matteo pictured Ariel eating, picking up a glass, using her hand.

“No, but firing a pistol takes two hands.”

“Not if somebody’s coming at you,” Zach said bluntly. “The Ruger is incredibly light. Have her keep a full magazine in it, of course, plus a round in the chamber.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Having to take time to rack the slide can be more dangerous. The Ruger has a holster. Tell her to keep it in the holster. Holstered, there’s no way it can go off accidentally. Okay?”

“Zach. Do you really think—”

“I think it’s wise to go with the old adage, better safe than sorry, but it’s your call.” He paused again. “Matteo. If you have to defend her or yourself, shoot to kill. That crap about shooting bad guys in the leg or in the arm… Crap is what it is. You train a gun on another human being, you do it so you can put him down. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. That leaves only the last thing.”

“Which is?”

“Do you love this woman?”

The question took him by surprise.

“Dude? Did you hear me? Do you love her?”

“Love is, you know, it’s a big word.”

“Then use a different word. The point is, I’m assuming you care for her, because from what Caleb says, you’re risking everything for her. Hello? You still there?”

“I’m here.” Matteo cleared his throat. “I do. Care for her. A great deal.”

“Right. The thing is, I figured it might help if I told you I understand what you’re feeling. It was like that for Jaimie and me. I loved her, I was willing to risk my life for her…and I’ve never regretted it for so much as a second. Got it?”

“Yeah. No. I mean—I mean—” Matteo took a quick step back and leaned against the car. Love? Zach was talking about love? He was only days into a relationship that you couldn’t even call a relationship, and what was this about love? He was doing what had to be done because it was the right thing to do. It had nothing to do with all the bull about love, love at first sight, love that changed your life…

“Oh, man,“ he whispered.

Zacharias Castelianos gave a soft laugh.

“Exactly,” he said. Good luck.”

Click.

And the call ended.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Zach’s instructions had been specific and easy to follow.

The Cherokee was where he’d said it would be, gassed up and ready. An envelope in the glove compartment contained five thousand dollars in well-used twenties, fifties, and hundred dollar bills.

The drive to the safe house took almost forty minutes. It took them east along a back road, then north along a fire trail through the forest.

Ariel had just asked if maybe they’d taken a wrong turn when they spotted a shape ahead.

It was the house, a handsome wooden structure that, at first glance, blended right into the trees. A garage door stretched across one end of it.

Matteo slow

ed the Cherokee, took the remote control from the glove box and pointed it at the garage. The door slid up. He pulled inside and turned off the engine.

Another touch of the remote and the door slid shut behind them.

Silence embraced them.

Too much silence.

There’d been all kinds of sounds outside. The sigh of the wind. The delicate ping of icy snow falling on the roof of the Cherokee. The whoosh-whoosh of wipers scraping the stuff off the windshield.

The sudden absence of sound was unnerving. Foolish, because the interior of the garage was as normal as that of any country home. Ahead, tools hung neatly on a wall of pegboard. A Ford truck, as black and shiny as the Cherokee, stood parked in the slot next to theirs.

“Here we are,” Ariel said. Her voice seemed very small in the quiet. “Home sweet home.”

Matteo took the key from the ignition and opened his door.

“I’m going to take a look.”

“What do you mean, you’re going to take a look?”

“Stay in the car until I tell you it’s safe to get out.”

“No. I’ll go with—”

He put his index finger lightly over her mouth. “Just do it, okay? As a favor to me.”

She didn’t like the idea; he could tell.

“I’ll give you two minutes,” she said, with a pointed glance at the dashboard clock. “Then I’m coming in after you.”

Two minutes. Not one or three. And the announcement that if he didn’t appear when expected, she’d follow him inside. It could have been amusing, coming from an unarmed woman with a broken wrist, but he knew she meant every word.

He leaned over and kissed her.

“You,” he said solemnly, “are one tough broad.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

She smiled. He kissed her again, and got out of the Cherokee.

Sure, Zach had called this a safe house. It probably was, but if he’d learned anything these last few days, it was that things were not always what you expected.

There was a keypad on the wall beside the door. He punched in the code Zach had given him. When he heard a soft click, he turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped inside.

He was in a kitchen.

It was a pleasant room, modern and sleek. Stainless steel appliances. A round glass table with four stainless-and-Lucite chairs drawn up to it. A black granite counter fronted by four black leather stools. What looked like an acre of white tiled floor.