Back in the bedroom, she moved over to a desk next to the window. Papers, as well as several books, were spread across the top. Her heart quickened as she read the title on the first old text,
A Portrait of Catherine de Médici.
Her father had been reading about Catherine! His research must have something to do with the diamond.
Several pages in the book had been folded over. Christina flipped through them until she got to the ones that had been marked. She skimmed through the text on the first page, which discussed Catherine’s dowry. There was no mention of the yellow. On the next page she found more information about Catherine’s obsession with astrology, Nostradamus, fortune-telling, and poisons. She read with morbid fascination about how Catherine was believed to have had two hundred cabinets filled with poisons and those cabinets had, in fact, been buried with her.
Catherine obviously had a dark side. And Christina had the same blood running through her veins. That was an eerie thought. Had the loss of the diamond changed Catherine, turned her from a passionate, romantic young girl into a hard-edged, bitter, and ambitious queen who cursed those who betrayed her? Her husband had certainly shamed her by continuing his blatant affair with Diane de Poitiers.
As much as Christina wanted to linger on the history books, she moved on. There were loose papers on the desk, including several bills. It appeared from the dates that her father had been living here off and on for the past few months, maybe years. Or, at least, he had made this house his home base. She found receipts for dry cleaning and groceries, clothing and books.
Christina sat down in the chair and opened the top center drawer. She leafed through more papers, her gaze catching on a large art book in which she could see a yellowed piece of very thin paper stuck in the middle. She pulled out the parchment. It was a sketch of a painting. Her eye moved from the paper to the page of the book that was now open. The sketch was the same painting as the one in the book, but in color and finished.
Her heart skidded to a stop as she recognized a woman’s face among the angels in the picture. It was Catherine—Catherine de Médici.
This had to be the painting that Catherine’s love had done for her. Her gaze dropped to the caption. The fresco by Pietro Marcello was painted in the small chapel at St. Anne’s Convent. Her pulse began to race as her eye picked out other details in the painting: the yellow diamond hanging around Catherine’s neck, the heavy pendant nestled between her breasts. Pietro hadn’t just painted Catherine; he’d painted the diamond. And her father had the picture.
The answer was suddenly so clear: The fresco was the key. Catherine had asked Pietro to help her protect the diamond. And the painting was a huge clue. Now they knew where the fresco was painted. They just had to find St. Anne’s Convent.
Christina got to her feet as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. J.T. was going to be so happy that they finally had a solid lead. She ran to the door to tell him. But the man standing in the hall was not J.T. This man had blond hair, blue eyes, a bloody nose, and the most evil smile she had ever seen.
Evan! It had to be Evan. And the blood on his face made her fear for J.T.
She opened her mouth to scream, but he covered her lips with a cloth, pressing it against her nose and mouth. It smelled vile. She gagged and coughed, struggling to get air. She hit, kicked, trying to get away, but her limbs were growing heavy, her brain fuzzy. She was suffocating. She pleaded with her eyes for him to let her go.
“Don’t worry, Christina,” she heard him say as her brain began to shut down. “You’re not going to die—yet.”
J.T. struggled to wake up. The pain in his head was relentless, as if someone were hammering against the front of his skull. He tried to move, and finally his hands touched something cold and hard. Cement, he realized. He was on a floor. Where? He couldn’t think. He blinked and took a breath. Slowly his head began to clear. He opened his eyes all the way, squinting in the darkness. He could make out the shadow of stairs off to his left. A water heater was right next to him, a sink, a washer and a dryer. The basement. He was in the basement of the farmhouse.
For a moment he just lay there, trying to remember what had happened. He’d been in the kitchen, checking out the cupboards, thinking that Christina’s father had been there recently—
Christina!
Where the hell was Christina?
He sat up, and crawled to his knees. He had to grab onto the bottom stair as a wave of dizziness almost sent him crashing down to the ground. He fought back—hard. He had to get up. He had to get to Christina before Evan did. He climbed up the first stair, then the second. Each movement was agony. It wasn’t just his head that was hurting but his left wrist, his back, his knees. He’d hit everything hard on his way down the stairs. He was probably lucky he hadn’t broken his neck.
Pausing on the third step, he put his hand to his scalp, feeling a huge bump. When he pulled his fingers away he could see blood. The reality of the situation sent him up the rest of the stairs. When he reached the top, he grabbed the doorknob with his right hand. It was locked.
Dammit!
Turning around, he saw a pile of gardening equipment, shovels, picks, axes in one corner of the basement. He made his way back down the stairs as quickly as he could and grabbed an ax. When he returned to the top, he swung the ax at the door several times until the wood splintered. Finally he was able to reach inside, unlock the door, and let himself out.
He stumbled into the kitchen. The silence in the house was alarming. He ran down the hall and up the stairs, calling out Christina’s name.
When he got to the bedroom, he saw immediately that it was empty. She was gone. Evan had Christina. He knew the truth deep down in his gut. And as further evidence, Christina’s purse was still on the desk.
He grabbed her bag and looked out the window. He could see the road leading up to the house. His rental car was parked below. There were no other cars in sight, but he could see a lingering haze of dust in the air.
The rush of fear and anger that ran through his body was overwhelming and paralyzing. He had to find Christina.
Think,
he told himself. Where would Evan take her?
He glanced down at the desk. The open book called out to him. He stared at the page. At first it looked like any other art book, but then a dazzling splash of yellow took his eye to a diamond pendant worn by a young girl. Catherine. The fresco. His gaze moved down the page. St. Anne’s Convent.
Marcus must have taken the diamond to the church. That must be where he thought the diamond belonged. Had Christina seen this page? Had Evan?
What did it matter? It was the only clue he had. He had to follow it. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find the convent. Locating Evan would be another matter.
Jogging back down the stairs, J.T. ran out to the rental car, praying it wouldn’t be too late. It wasn’t just a diamond on the line now; it was Christina’s life. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. He’d already lost his father to Evan; he couldn’t lose another person he loved.
He loved Christina. What a hell of a time to figure that out.
He hoped to God he would have a chance to tell her.
Christina felt sick. Her stomach was heaving, and some nauseating taste on her tongue made her want to throw up. She tried to move, then realized that her hands were tied behind her back. Her memory slowly returned. She’d been in the bedroom at the farmhouse. She’d found the book, the sketches. She’d heard J.T. coming up the stairs and she’d run to the door. But it hadn’t been J.T.; it had been Evan. And he’d put something over her nose and mouth so she couldn’t breathe.
Her eyes flew open and she blinked rapidly, trying to focus. Where was she? What was happening?
It took a moment for her brain to catch up. She was lying on her side on a cold cement floor. Her feet were tied at the ankles, her hands roped behind her back. Painfully sticky tape was wound around her mouth to the back of her head. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but try to figure out where she was.
A cold wind blew through four open floor-to-ceiling arches, one on each wall. She was in a tower. A bell tower. Several iron bells were suspended above her head along with pulleys and ropes. About ten feet away was a door leading somewhere, probably down to the church below. Was she in a church in Florence? There was no writing on the walls and no people in the room. She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious; nor could she catch a glimpse of her wristwatch. Judging by the lengthening shadows and the darkening sky, she suspected it was almost dusk.
Why had Evan brought her here? And where was J.T.? What had Evan done with him?
Terror gripped her heart as she realized that Evan must have taken J.T. out. Otherwise he never would have been able to get up the stairs to kidnap her from the farmhouse.
Had Evan hurt J.T.? Had the long history between them and the hatred on both sides led to violence? Evan had probably killed David and Nicole, not to mention numerous other people over the years. There was no reason to think he wouldn’t kill J.T., too, especially if J.T. was standing in the way of his getting the diamond.
She and J.T. shouldn’t have split up, she realized, not even in the house. They should have stayed together. It was too late now.
A sudden movement behind her sent her gaze darting to the door. She prayed for J.T. to walk through. But it was Evan, tall, blond, blue eyed, exactly like the photograph J.T. had shown her the first time they’d met. He wore a navy blue suit with a white dress shirt open at the collar. There was no sign of Stefano in him now. He looked like an ordinary businessman, except for the wild gleam in his eyes and the shadow of beard along his jaw that gave him a weary, jaded appearance.
“Well, well, look who’s awake,” Evan said, squatting a few feet away from her.
She struggled into a half-sitting position. It made her feel only marginally better not to be lying at his feet.
“Relax, Christina, we have time. Get comfortable. Nothing will happen until dark,” he told her.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. She cleared her throat and motioned with her eyes and her head for him to take off the tape. If she could just take a deeper breath, she would feel better. Not to mention the fact that she could let out a scream and hopefully call someone to her rescue.
Evan smiled. “I don’t think so. It’s my turn to talk. You can listen.” He paused, his gaze narrowing on her face. “You’re probably wondering about your good friend J.T. Don’t worry. He won’t bother us. He’s done.”
Her heart stopped. It couldn’t be true. J.T. could not be “done.” He could not be—God, she couldn’t let herself think for a second that J.T. was dead.
“This little party is just for the three of us,” Evan continued. “You, me, and your dear old dad. That’s right, your father, Marcus Alberti. You’ve wanted to get in touch with him, haven’t you? Well, you’ll get your chance when he brings me the diamond.”
She shook her head.
Evan’s gaze bored into hers. “You don’t think your father will trade the diamond for his precious daughter? That would be most unfortunate. Then I would have no reason to keep you alive.” Evan paused. “Your father was smarter than I thought. Nicole said he would make an easy mark. Lure him back to San Francisco, she told me. Set him up to take the fall—along with you. It made perfect sense. No one would ever suspect that I had stolen the diamond. It was a good plan. But somehow your father stole the diamond out from under me. In any other situation I would admire his cleverness, but not this time. I don’t like to lose, Christina. In fact, I always win. I’m the best there ever was. You’ll soon realize that.”
His voice grew almost dreamy, as if he were lost in his own mind. He was reassuring himself as much as her. There was a chink in his armor, a little doubt, she realized. Her father had put that doubt there. He might be the first person in a long time to outsmart Evan. And Evan was not going to let her father get the better of him. But how could he be sure that her father would come? Had Evan found a way to contact her dad? If he had, he was definitely one step ahead—again.
It was because of her, she realized. She’d wasted too much time trying to figure out her relationship to Isabella instead of concentrating on finding her father. That distraction had put her and J.T. behind both Evan and Marcus. She’d been selfish, wanting to know about her past. And J.T. had let her. He’d listened patiently to Maria’s story. He’d supported her when it had felt as if the world under her feet were shifting sand. J.T. had done all that, knowing that they were losing time in the chase. And she’d never said thank-you. Never told him how she felt about him. She was terrified that she wouldn’t get that chance now—that it was already too late.
Listening to Evan ramble on under his breath, she saw the mental instability behind the good looks. J.T. had told her that Evan had started out as a charming con artist, able to sucker his victims with bright blue eyes and an inviting smile, but over the years things had begun to change. His cons had grown more serious, more violent. J.T. had believed that Evan was losing his grip on reality. She thought J.T. was probably right.
Evan met her gaze, saw something in her eyes that made him frown. “You think you know something,” he said. “Something about me.”
She quickly gave a shake of her head, not wanting to set him off.
“What did J.T. tell you? That I fleeced his father—that I caused his death? His father was a loser, a gambler, a two-bit asshole. He wasn’t even a challenge. And you know what? J.T. hated him when he was alive, used to bitch about his old man whenever he got drunk. His daddy wanted him to be a big football player and poor ol’ J.T. just couldn’t stand the pressure, so he quit. He’s a loser, too.”
Evan smiled as he continued, “You think J.T. is going to come riding up on his white horse and rescue you, don’t you? You believe he’s your hero. You’re wrong. I’m the hero. I’m going to get the diamond and the girl.” He stood up and leaned against the wall, looking down on her. “You’d like Jenny. She’s sweet, kind, beautiful. And she’s going to be mine. I will give her everything she deserves and more. She’s the only one who ever knew the real me, the only one who truly appreciated my talents. When she sees that yellow diamond, she will know that I’m the man for her. She’ll believe in me again. Everything will be perfect.”