Run To Rome

He started to pull himself up onto the dock, but she grabbed his arm, right on the injury she’d rewrapped less than an hour ago. His breath hissed through his teeth.

“Don’t do that,” she snapped.

“How else do you expect me to get to the other boat?” He shook her hand from his arm.

“I’m talking about the sugar and sweetheart crap.” Her words vibrated with anger. “You do that when you want to distance yourself, or pretend you don’t care.”

“I do care. About you getting your ass down below and keeping your mouth shut. You want to help your brother so bad, don’t screw this up.”

“Resorting to being a jerk again. Why am I even surprised?”

“According to you, I’m a jerk all the time, so what does it matter?”

Her gaze wavered, then held his with a glimmer of vulnerable hope. “You weren’t a jerk last night.”

Behind them, his father cleared his throat. Trent ignored him and absolutely refused to let his character slip despite the crushing tightness in his chest. He crooked one corner of his mouth upward and let his hand brush Halli’s breast as he lifted it to run a knuckle along her jaw.

“Don’t go reading anything into last night, sweetheart. We both know exactly what that was.”

She paled beneath the flush in her cheeks. The hurt in her expression nearly did him in, but then she lifted her chin and her eyes chilled. Without another word, she spun around and walked below deck, her spine as rigid as the jaw he clenched to keep from taking the words back.

One glance at the disapproval etched in his father’s face brought everything in Trent’s world back to normal and he climbed up onto the dock.

“Let’s do this.”

He pushed nagging thoughts of Halli from his mind and focused on the upcoming exchange as they motored toward the meeting coordinates near the less populated end of Isola Comacina. The sun had begun its downward decent in the cloudless sky, though it’d be at least another hour before the fiery ball slipped behind the snow tipped mountains on the west side of the lake.

It was the perfect time, actually. Light enough to see someone face to face, but with enough shadows on this side of the island to camouflage their activities from any distance across the water. Clear evidence not to underestimate Lapaglia.

They were a few minutes out when Trent spotted the man’s boat through a pair of binoculars. Five people on board. Damn, he didn’t like those odds. Seconds later, his cell phone rang. Expecting it to be Lapaglia, he frowned when he recognized a different number. “Simone?”

“Trent, thank God.”

He slowed the boat and raised a hand for his father to do the same, fifty yards behind him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked Simone.

“I have to tell you something. I should have said something earlier, but…” Her voice caught on a sob.

Trent’s heart skipped a beat. “Is it Halli’s sister? Did something happen?”

“No, no, Rachel is fine. It…it is Renzo.”

Christ. He didn’t have time to console her right now. “Simone, I’m sorry, but I can’t talk right now. I’ll—”

“No, you do not understand. He—” Her words cut off when a beep indicated another incoming call.

A glance confirmed the first number he’d expected and Trent spoke over Simone when her voice reconnected on the line. “I’ll call you back when we’re done.” The phone beeped again and he clicked over to the other call.

“Stop where you are, Tomlin. Who the fuck is with you?”

“Relax.” Trent kept his tone casual, but slowed the boat even more. “I’ve got the video, he’s got the money.”

“Where is Halliwell?”

“Safe from you.” Bastard. “Once you and I conclude our exchange, and Ben and I are a safe distance away, your money will be dropped in a nice tight waterproof bag, and our business will be done.”

“That was not our deal.”