Passion (In Wilde Country 2)

“I know precisely what I’m doing, counselor,” she said, her eyes never leaving Pastore. “Just concentrate on that old Sicilian vow, and you’ll know, too.”

The vow? What vow…

Cristo! Their vow, the one they’d created.

I trust you with my life, as you trust me with yours.

“Ariel,” Matteo shouted, but it was too late.

Her hand dipped into the pocket of her robe and emerged clutching the Ruger. She fired at Pastore at the same second Matteo rolled to the edge of the mattress, snatched his Sig Sauer from the nightstand, aimed at Pastore’s thug, and pulled the trigger.

The roar of the two weapons filled the room.

A bright red flower bloomed in the center of Tony Pastore’s chest. A flower that looked very much the same opened in his henchman’s belly.

“Shit,” Pastore said, in what sounded like surprise. Then he collapsed. Jimmy went down, too, but in silence.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing more.

Then the Ruger fell from Ariel’s suddenly nerveless fingers. She went to her knees.

“Oh God,” she whispered, “Oh God, oh God, oh God…”

Matteo dropped the Sig Sauer, ran to her, hauled her to her feet and shook her, hard.

“Goddammit,” he roared, “you could have been killed!”

Then he wrapped his arm around her and she wrapped hers around him, even the arm with the cast, and neither of them knew whose tears came first.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Both men were dead.

Matteo phoned 911.

“There’s been a shooting,” he said. “Two shootings. At…” It took him few seconds to remember the address. Once he gave it, there was a silence at the other end of the line. “Hello? Are you still there?”

“I’m here, sir. Is anyone injured? Do you need an ambulance?”

Matteo cleared his throat. “No. There were two intruders. Both are dead.”

“And you, sir? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. We’re both fine. There’s—there’s someone with me. But the men who broke in are—”

“Yessir,” the voice said crisply. “Thank you for the call.”

Thank you for the call? Either the police in these mountains were much more polite than police anywhere else, or the guy who’d taken the call had not fully understood him.

Either way, he’d made the notification. The police would be here soon, or as soon as the weather permitted. He didn’t think it would take very long. The wind had stopped roaring, and he could no longer hear icy pellets of snow beating against the house.

What concerned him now was Ariel. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, the robe in her lap.

“Honey,” he said gently. “Here. Put this on.”

He picked up the robe, but she recoiled.

“No,” she said in an unsteady whisper, “not that.”

There was nothing on the robe, no blood, no sign of what had happened, but he understood that she’d never want to see it again. So he wrapped her in one of the blankets and led her out of the room that had been theirs and into the one next door, where he sat her on a chair.

“I’ll be right back, honey,” he said. “Okay?”

She nodded. He started to turn away. She reached out and he came back, took her in his arms and held her.

After a minute or two, she sighed and let go of him. He bent down, kissed the top of her head. Then he went into the room where they’d come so close to dying.

Better Pastore and his hired gun, he thought grimly, than Ariel and him.

He moved quickly, plucking sweatshirts from the closet for both of them, a hooded one with a zipper for her, a regular one for him. He found a stack of sweatpants and grabbed two, and topped things off with two pairs of heavy wool socks from a dresser drawer.

The Ruger lay where Ariel had dropped it. His Sig Sauer was on the floor next to the bed. He wasn’t a criminal lawyer, but he knew that evidence had to remain undisturbed… and, Cristo, were they going to need criminal lawyers? They had acted in self-defense, but the law would have to decide exactly what that meant.

Still, he couldn’t simply leave Pastore and the other man as they were. He snagged the top sheet from the bed and tossed it over the man called Jimmy, then covered Pastore with a blanket.

Then he returned to Ariel.

She had not moved.

Had this set her back? He’d told her all the things he hadn’t been supposed to tell her until she remembered them on her own, and then Pastore had shown up and added to it. He’d reminded her of what she’d gone through in the year of their marriage and told her lies about his, Matteo’s, part in the story.

And then she’d shot and killed Pastore.

If something happened to her, it was his own fault.

How could he have been so stupid as to have believed they’d had a simple power-down? Why hadn’t he checked?

“Honey?”

She looked up. Her face was white. Her eyes seemed enormous. Quickly, he got her into the hoodie and a pair of the pants. He dressed himself, then knelt before her and worked her feet into the socks. He had not stopped to check sizes and everything swam on her.

She looked lost, he thought, and his heart sank.

“Cara.” He took her hand in his. “You were incredibly brave.”

That, at least, got a reaction. A laugh. A watery laugh, but it was more than he’d expected.

“I was shaking like a leaf.”

“Well, it didn’t show. You were remarkable.”

“I was just afraid you’d believe the things I said about you. About us.”

“I thought you’d believed what I said about you being good only for sex.” He kissed her forehead. “We were both good actors. Good enough to fool Pastore. But reminding me of that vow was a stroke of pure genius.”

“I prayed you’d understand what I meant. Because—because, you know, if things had gone wrong, if I’d died, I wanted you to know that I loved you, that I would never stop loving you.”

“Come here,” he said gruffly. He drew her from the chair and sat down with her in his arms. “I love you the same way. With all my heart.”

They stayed that way for a little while. Then, she sighed.

“What happens now?”

“We tell the police what went on here tonight. And why.”

“And why.” She shuddered. “It’s such a complicated story. I don’t know where to begin.”

“At the beginning,” he said, but her sad expression didn’t change. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. “I’m a lawyer,” he said gravely. “I know these things.”

She laughed. He felt like cheering despite the bodies in the other room. Still, her question had been a good one. Where would they begin? How would they explain things to local authorities who’d probably never heard of Anthony Pastore? Did they need attorneys to represent them? Of course they did. He was an attorney, but not a criminal attorney and, Dio, he had to get moving.

He had to protect her.

He had to…

His cell phone rang. Was it in the pocket of his sweats? Yes. He must have transferred it without thinking.

“Hello?”

“Matteo. It’s Zach.”

“Zach. Jesus, am I glad to hear from you. I should have called you. Pastore—”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Matteo.” Zach’s tone was gentle. “I’m coming in.”

“You’re what?”

“I’m outside the front door. Well, not just me. Caleb’s with me. And Luca.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain once we’re in the house. You want to come down and let us in, or you want me to use the touchpad?”

“How did you get here so fast? I only just called the police a few minutes ago. And the storm…”

“The storm ended a couple of hours ago. Well, it died down, enough to permit us to get here. Matt

eo. Just let us in, okay?”

“Yes. Sure. We’ll be right there.”

* * *

They were standing outside the front door, just as Zach had said. Zach. Caleb. Luca. Two other men, each carrying a large suitcase. And, just behind them…

“Dr. Stafford?”

Stafford nodded. “Mr. Bellini. And Ms. Bennett. How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” Ariel said. She drew a breath. “A little upset, actually. I just—I just shot—” She swallowed hard. “If you mean how’s my memory, it’s back. Almost all of it.”

“Excellent. Why don’t we step inside, find a quiet corner and have a little chat. How’s that sound?”

Ariel looked at Matteo.

“Go ahead, cara,” he said softly. “I’ll be right in the next room.”

Everyone trooped into the house. Ariel and the doctor went toward the study. Matteo led the others into the living room.

Luca was glaring at him. Great. Just what he needed. Fortunately, Caleb spoke before Luca could.

“Where are they?”

“Upstairs. First bedroom on the right.”

Zach nodded at the two strangers. “Go to it.”

Matteo could have sworn the men saluted, even thought they didn’t. But there was something in the way they looked at Zach, the way they stood straight and tall…

Crazy, he decided, but then, the whole week had been crazy, a week in which he’d lived what seemed an entire lifetime.

The two strangers headed for the stairs. Zach and Caleb took seats.

Matteo remained standing.

So did Luca.