Blood Relics (A James Acton Thriller, #12) (25 page)

“Oh, pardon me, I’m so sorry.”

Terrence
Mitchell froze, having bumped into three people in it seemed as many seconds.
He wasn’t good in crowds, especially crowds in a hurry. He was even worse if he
was in a hurry too. His wife Jenny put a hand on his shoulder.

“You
okay, love?”

He
nodded. “Uhuh.”

“There’s
a chap over there holding a sign that says Mitchell. Could that be for us?”

Terrence
looked where his wife was pointing and shrugged. “I don’t know. They didn’t say
anything about sending a car.”

“But how
many Mitchells could there be here in Rome?”

Jenny
led the way, Terrence was sure to try and clear a path for her clumsy husband.
As he watched her pleasantly plump frame in front of him he felt a warm feeling
rush through him. She was pregnant with their first child and he couldn’t be
prouder—he felt like a man.

A
terrified man.

What did
he know about being a father?

He was
barely a man, nowhere near thirty yet. Yes he had a wife, but that didn’t make
you a man, especially when she was a career woman herself so didn’t need him to
support her.

But a child
would be completely reliant on him.

He
wouldn’t be alone in it, however. Jenny was an amazing woman, was ecstatic
about being a mother, was buying all the books and preparing the nursery and
chatting with her two sisters about their experiences, she the last of the
three to fall pregnant.

But he
was an only child, had never babysat—his parents had been terrified he’d hurt
someone with his clumsiness—and was certain he had no parental instincts
whatsoever. This was proven to him in spades last year when he had tried to
reason with a five year old about why he shouldn’t drop Jenny’s iPhone in the
toilet. Ten minutes of the kid holding the phone over the bowl with nothing but
his thumb and forefinger, lowering it every time he would try to get closer.

It was
when he tried reverse psychology that things took a turn for the worse.

Fine,
go ahead and drop the phone.

Plunk.

They had
bought a new phone the next day.

Jenny
stopped in front of the man holding the sign, giving Terrence a profile shot of
her swollen belly.

This baby
is in serious trouble!

I’m
in serious trouble!

He just
didn’t know how to react. He had insisted that Jenny stay at home, it too
dangerous for her to come and help out Professor Acton. There had been quite
the fight, mostly one-sided, ending with him conceding he was a daft bastard,
but it hadn’t really changed his mind.

He was
terribly worried about her.

The
professors seemed to get themselves into violent trouble over and over, and it
wouldn’t be the first time they had been dragged in. In fact, it would be the
third time, the last time having them kidnapped in the Amazon.

I
should have just told Professor Acton no.

But then
he’d never be able to live with himself if anything happened to Professor
Palmer.

He loved
her.

It was a
crush, an infatuation never to be mutual, but it was there, despite his being
married to a fantastic woman. He had fallen for Professor Palmer the first day
he had laid eyes on her seven years ago. She was why he had become an
archeologist rather than taking economics as he had planned. It was a stupidly
rash, teenaged thing to do, but he had done it, hadn’t told his parents until
his third year, and discovered he not only loved his teacher, he loved the
subject matter as well.

It was a
decision he had never regretted.

And
though his love would always go unrequited, and he was completely in love with
Jenny, Professor Laura Palmer, the wife of the luckiest man alive, Professor
James Acton, would always have a special place in his heart.

And it
was the one secret he could never reveal to anyone, especially Jenny.

It would
crush her.

He knew
she wouldn’t understand, nor did he expect her to. He could only imagine how
hurt and jealous he’d be if she confessed she was secretly in love with
Professor Acton or some other man.

But
don’t worry, love, because there’s no chance of me ever being with him,
our
love is secure.

He
nodded to the man as Jenny motioned toward her husband. “We’re the Mitchells.”

Those
three words caught him off guard, causing a wave of shame to rush over him, a
knot to form in his stomach.

The
Mitchells
.

He was
pretty sure it was the first time he had ever heard it said.

And it
suddenly struck him, in the middle of an airport in Rome, the reality of his
situation.

He was
married, married to the most wonderful woman he had ever met, a woman who
accepted all his faults and made him feel better about himself than he had ever
felt before, because this woman, this woman who he shared the love he had to
give with some fool’s infatuation, loved him completely and unconditionally.

This
woman, this incredible woman, who was about to be the mother to his first
child.

And she
deserved his complete and utter devotion.

He
sucked in a deep breath.

And
that’s what she’s going to get.

“Yes,
we’re the Mitchells,” he said. “Were you sent by the Vatican?”

The man
nodded. “Yes, let me get your bags.”

“Oh,
that’s not nec—”

Jenny
cut him off. “You better take his before he kills somebody with it.”

The man
nodded, Terrence was certain suppressing a smirk. He was about to protest when
Jenny took his bag, rolling it over to the chauffeur.

“Follow
me, please.”

Terrence
shot Jenny a look but she just grinned at him and tucked her arm in his,
rolling her bag in front of him. “Would you, love?”

He took
her bag, flipping it over by accident then righting it with a kick of his foot
that stubbed his toe. He winced. She leaned her head on his shoulder as they
began to follow their driver and it melted his heart, any anger at her
emasculation gone as he realized she had been joking, she now free of the load
she had been pulling.

Free to
pat her stomach.

“I think
he just kicked.”

“He?”

She
shrugged. “You never know. If
he
keeps kicking like that, he could make
a good center forward.”

A
son!

It would
be incredible.

A center
forward?

A pit
formed in his stomach.

How
the devil am I going to teach a boy how to play football! I can’t even kick a
ball!

“Or it
could be a girl.”

“Could
be,” agreed Jenny cheerfully as she rubbed her stomach. “Either way is fine by
me.”

Jenny
whistled as they walked up to a stretch limo. “Is this for us?”

“Complements
of the Vatican,” replied the chauffeur as he loaded their bags in the trunk
then opened the rear door. Terrence helped Jenny inside with a held hand, and
as he started to climb in himself he heard her cry out. He paused as he felt
the grip on his hand tighten, but before he could question what was happening he
was shoved from behind. As he tumbled onto the floor the door slammed shut
behind him plunging them into near darkness. He pushed himself up and into the
seat to find himself sitting across from a man holding a pistol in his lap.

He
wrapped his arm around Jenny protectively, his entire being focused on the
weapon not five feet from his unborn child. “Wh-who are you? What do you want?”

“You are
Terrence and Jenny Mitchell?” asked the man, his voice thick with what sounded
to Terrence like a German accent.

“Yes.”

“You
have been called here to assist Professor Acton in the search for the body of
Saint Longinus.”

Terrence
felt his muscles begin to slacken as the terror of the situation overwhelmed
him. This man knew everything and memories of the torture he had undergone in
the Amazon began to flood back, his mind shutting down to protect itself.

Nails
dug into his thigh, yanking him back to reality as Jenny must have sensed what
was happening to him.

“Yes,”
she replied.

She’s
so much stronger than I am!

“My
employer has asked me to convey a message. You are being watched. Should
Professor Acton actually succeed, you are to call this number immediately.” He
leaned forward, a business card in his hand.

Terrence
couldn’t bring himself to reach for it.

Jenny
took it, holding up the card.

It had
nothing but a phone number.

“Should
Professor Acton lie to my employer, or try to deceive my employer, you are to
contact us immediately. Should you fail to report any deception or failure on
his part, you will both be killed.”

Terrence’s
head swam, everything blurring in front of him, the thought of his wife dying
too much to handle, the thought of his unborn child never seeing his mother’s
smile, never seeing even the light of day, unthinkable.

An ember
of burning rage ignited within him and his eyes immediately focused on the man,
his world snapping back into focus. “If you harm my wife, I’ll kill you.”

The man
smiled, leaning forward with the gun not a foot from Terrence’s chest.

“I would
like to see you try.”

Terrence’s
hands darted out, one hand smacking the inside of the man’s wrist, the other
slapping the top of his hand, immediately causing the gun to fall to the floor as
the surprised man jumped back in shock, nursing a tender wrist.

Jenny
grabbed the gun, pointing it at him.

Terrence
just sat, stunned the training Professor Palmer’s ex-SAS security team had
provided actually worked.

And that
he had had the balls to actually use it.

If he
was being honest with himself he knew that it had been rage driven instinct,
not any sort of courageous act that had caused him to disarm the man, and their
victory was most likely temporary, as was evidenced by the smile on the man’s
face.

“I
underestimated you, Mr. Mitchell.” He leaned forward. “But make no mistake,
this changes nothing. I am part of a team. Even if I am eliminated, my team
will still kill you. And no tricks, taught to you by former SAS Lt. Colonel Cameron
Leather, will help you—you will never see the man who fires the bullet through
the belly of your wife.”

Terrence
wanted to reach out and grab the gun from Jenny and shoot the bastard. He
glared at the man instead, raising his finger when suddenly the gun fired, shot
after shot belching from the barrel, Terrence watching in horror as Jenny
emptied the magazine into the man’s chest.

The car
screeched to a halt sending them tumbling forward, Terrence’s outstretched hand
slipping on the bloody chest of their now dead kidnapper. Pushing himself to
his knees, he turned to Jenny, his mouth agape.

“Oh my
God, what have you done?”

Jenny
said nothing, instead just staring at the dead man, the shocked expression on her
face mirroring his own. That’s when Terrence noticed the gun still in her hand.
He reached down and gently took the weapon away from her as the front door
opened then slammed shut.

Oh
shit!

He leapt
forward, quickly searching the man for a spare magazine when a cellphone began
to ring in the man’s pocket. He glanced over at Jenny, still sitting on the
floor, shaking, her eyes staring into those of the man she had killed. Terrence
pulled the phone out of the inner jacket pocket and answered it.

He said
nothing.

“Mr.
Mitchell?”

Terrence
felt his chest tighten, a lump forming in his throat as his mouth went dry.
“Yes?”

“I
assume my colleague is dead. This changes nothing. You still have your
assignment. The man you killed was part of a team. You and your wife will be
executed should you fail to follow your instructions.”

The call
ended and Terrence collapsed on the floor, his arms at his side as his entire
body began to shake. He dropped the gun and phone, both hitting the carpeting
with a thud that seemed to jolt Jenny out of her trance. He felt her hand on
his.

“I need
to get out of here.”

Somebody
rapped on the window, causing them both to jump, then the door was yanked open,
the sunlight pouring in blinding them for a moment. Something was shouted in
Italian as Terrence held up his hand to shade his eyes.

“I’m
sorry, do you speak English?”

“Police.
What is happening here—pistola!” The man jumped back and Terrence moved to
shield his wife from whatever was about to come. “Get out of the car with your hands
up!”

Terrence
looked back at Jenny. “I’ll go first and explain.”

She
nodded. “I’m sorry.”

He shook
his head. “You were protecting the baby.”

Her eyes
closed. “By making his mother a murderer.”

“There’s
no way it was murder. We struggled for the gun, it fell on the floor, you
grabbed it and shot him when he lunged at you. Understood?”

She
looked up at him, her eyes wide, then nodded.

“Come
out, now!”

He flinched
from the barked order, the sounds of sirens in the distance getting closer. He
squeezed Jenny’s hand then crawled toward the open door. “I’m coming out! I’m
unarmed!” Stumbling through the door he was suddenly grabbed by the back of his
jacket and yanked forward, hitting the asphalt hard. “Take it easy! I’m the
victim here!”

“Don’t
move.”

He was
quickly patted down then his hands were handcuffed behind his back before he
was pulled to his feet, there now at least half a dozen police officers on the
scene and hundreds of onlookers.

“Come
out of the car, now!” ordered one of the men.