RIPPED: A Dark Romance (Killer Lips Book 1) (8 page)

“We need to look around the premises, if that's alright with you,” the Inspector says.

I notice he has an object in a plastic bag in his hand, held with great care like a valuable ornament. It looks like a glass or a cup, I can't tell from all the writing in marker covering the plastic.

“As you can see I'm not dressed and the master is not at home. You need to come back when he's here. Maybe with a warrant seeing as these are private chambers.” I lay further stress on the 'private' and glare at the housekeeper for allowing these officials to trawl through the house when Mark' is not at home.

Then my knees almost buckle. Is this really me? Standing up to the Comandante, head of the Carabinieri, which I think is the military police force for Italy. He also happens to be packing a Beretta across his shoulder.

Where did I find the power in me to tell him to get out in the nicest but most stringent terms, countermanding the long term domestic staff? I'm finding a whole new side of myself since the divorce- a woman who can get shit done and stand up to powerful men.

“As you wish. I apologize for the disturbance.” The group moves past me towards the exit. When I reach the stairs, the Commander turns with another query.

“You said you were here since carnival?” he asks with that look of trying to entrap me I saw so regularly on the faces of the workers at the care home.

“Yes, we danced at the masquerades then came back here the night of the storm when our plane couldn't leave.” I assumed that was ambiguous enough to imply that I'd been staying here during the celebrations also.

“Thank you,
signorina
.” With another jabber of Italian to the housekeeper, the official little group disappears down the wide staircase.

I watch them over the balustrade until they vanish through the kitchen doors and run all the way back to the newly vacant bedroom, pull the costume from the closet and whip my head round and round, seeking.

There are no convenient rocks or other heavy blunt instruments. The only possible usable item is a marble statue. I heft it into the bag and it's the perfect dead weight. I tug the tightened unwilling window until it gives way with a squeal.

And as I hurl the balled up package from the window, I pray to the saints it isn't a priceless antiquity I'm dumping at the bottom of the canal. The chill air spears my lungs and I hurtle back to my room and throw myself on the bed in a state of hyperventilation.

When I calm down ten minutes later, I dress quickly in my own clothes and pack what little I'd removed from my suitcase- mostly my toiletries and make-up. My phone is dead as I haven't charged it since the day I arrived and discovered the internet had been knocked out by the storm

Except there was internet all along and Mark had lied about that. What else had he lied about? Things are getting way out of bounds for me, my wished for adventure becoming a little too risky. If I can't book a flight online I'll have to go to the airport and wait right there until one becomes available to get me out of this mess.

What the hell was I doing misleading the police like that? I could get myself into a whole lot of trouble in a country where I've got no friends or supporters.

I dig through my purse for my wallet, hoping my charge cards will cover the cost of a last-minute airplane ticket and my passport.
Where's my freaking passport?

I scrabble through the detritus in the bottom of my purse, using my clawed hand like a digging machine, twice, then three times before I empty the contents on the silk coverlet.

Not there. Not possible – I'm sure it was in here. I open my suitcase, check the interior side pockets then there's nothing for it but to unpack and search through every item. Twice. Tearing through the junk over and over because it has to be here.

I'm kneeling on the floor surrounded by piles of very shabby looking clothes- at least to my new eyes. And my heart is a sinking dead weight with the realization that I won't wear the amazing outfits again. Then Mark walks in and his face convulses.

RIPPED is a two-part romantic suspense. The second part will be published July 15
th
. Sign up with the readers group form if you'd like more info.

Here's the link

http://eepurl.com/bsmaGX