Authors: Desiree Holt,Cerise DeLand
leaned down, the musk of his body an aphrodisiac she could not ignore. Her nose
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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
skimming his torso, she felt one of his hands sink into her hair as he drew her close and wound his legs in hers.
For long moments, they lay like that. Lazy, languid, liquid. His hand in her hair.
Her lips on his chest. Her nose loving the fragrance of her lavender on his skin, his body in her bed.
Her phone rang.
He rose up on an elbow to glance around and try to find it for her. “Must have left
it in the kitchen,” he murmured and left her embrace.
Within minutes he was back to hand it to her.
She took a quick look at the number. “Cappi,” she told him as she hit the recall
button. A few rings later, the detective answered the phone to inform her there were no results on the prints yet. “Half an hour more,” he said, “Interpol has had a few other
emergencies this morning.”
“Like what?” she asked, alarmed that they might have more bombs.
“Nothing on this case,” Cappi told her. “A problem in Bonn. Bank robbery.”
“I see. Thank you. Call me when you know something.” She rang off and was ready
to dial the Bargello to see if all was well there when her phone rang again.
“
Ciao! Sì
,” she exclaimed to her caller. “Arturo! How wonderful to hear from you—
” she began in Italian. She was surprised he was calling her so early in the morning and about a case that was being pursued by so many law enforcement agencies.
The minister said, “I know you have been working on these near explosions in
Bargello and Uffizi. My staff has told me about your work.”
“I am glad, Arturo, because—”
“Isabella, I am leaving my house here this morning on my way into my office in
Roma.
Un momento.
” She heard him say, “
Ciao
, Marta,” to his wife before returning to their conversation. “Marta sends you her love, Isabella. Now listen to me. I do not have much time, but I want you to know that I am sending a Finanza helicopter for you in
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Until Twilight
Florence. It comes within the hour. They will land at the airport, at the government
hangar pad.”
“Why a helicopter, Arturo?”
“Ah, well. I have heard of what happened there yesterday and we have a new
threat, early this morning in the Villa Borghese.”
“A purse?” she asked. “Like the others?”
“Sì, the same description. Exactly. Where is my driver?” he asked someone with
him. “I told him to be here in five minutes. What has happened to him?”
“Arturo,” Bella beseeched him, “is it an L.L. Bean purse?”
“
Sì, sì
, Bella. Where are my two bodyguards? Ah, Bella.” He sounded exasperated.
“My staff is lazy today.”
The hair on her arms prickled. His staff was the finest in the country. What was
wrong? “Where are you, Arturo?”
“About to walk out my door. Opening it now. I’m waiting for my chauffeur. Who is
late. Why?”
“Because—”
“Oh, my god.”
“What?” Bella stilled.
“Let me see here… I now have a purse of same description in the doorway to my
home.”
“
What?
” She sat bolt upright on the edge of the bed.
Lane scowled at her.
Arturo repeated his last words.
She could not believe what she was hearing. “
Arturo!
Listen to me. Do as I say. Step away from the purse. Now. Tell anyone else who is near it to move away.”
Lane’s eyes went wide.
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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
Arturo said, “I have bodyguards…but they are not here…and…”
“Tell everyone, anyone not to touch it.”
“My family—”
“Do not let them come out front.” She scrambled to her feet.
Lane dialed someone on his phone.
“
Sì
, Isabella. They are inside. My wife and one of our daughters. The staff. All inside.”
“Tell someone, anyone near you to get them out! Now.”
She hung on while she heard him direct one person near him to do as she had said.
“Wait,” he told her, an odd note of bewilderment in his voice. “Three men
approach. How would they know to come?” He sounded confused all of a sudden.
“Do they have bomb equipment?” she asked him. “
Arturo?
Do they?”
“They are in black. They are…not…Finanza. But—wearing balaclavas. Why?”
She heard shouting, scuffling.
“What are you doing?” Arturo shouted, the sound muffled.
She hit the speaker on her phone so that Lane could hear. At the same time, she saw
Lane hit the record button on his own phone and put it next to hers.
“Get in the car!” a bass male voice shouted in Italian.
Lane put a finger to his lips.
“
Get in the car!
”
“Watch out,” said another male voice in English. This with a British accent. “Don’t
hurt him, for chrissakes. We don’t want to kill him just get the accounts frozen.”
Bella stared at Lane, mouth open and working on the silent word,
Octo
.
Another man cursed in French. “All in?”
“Come on! Come
on
!” yelled the British man.
They heard the car engine gun.
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Until Twilight
The reception went fuzzy. Voices clear or not so as the men of different nationalities
spoke to each other.
Lane ran out into her living area and came back with a notepad and pen.
We’re
listening to him being abducted?
She nodded in agreement.
Lane wrote,
He left his phone on?
Again she agreed silently.
Wonder if he has a GPS on it?
Lane wrote.
He’d better
, she scribbled on the pad.
Lane motioned to himself and then that he was going out. To find help. To find
another phone.
Meanwhile, Isabella sat in growing fear as she listened to the men of Octo abduct
Arturo Franzoni.
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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
“He’s gone,” she told Lane, frozen in shock. And fear for her friend. “I heard the
engine of the car as it drove away.”
Wild to comfort her, he came to her and took her cold hands in his warm ones.
“We’ll get him, Bella. Do not worry. I promise we’ll get him back.”
“I must go to Rome to investigate this.” She pushed away the covers and swung her
slim legs over the side of the bed.
At that moment Lane’s own cell phone rang. He picked it up and flipped it open.
“Yes?”
“Have you discussed this with Isabella?” Maddie’s familiar voice all business even
though Lane had wakened them around two a.m. Texas time. No hello. Just straight to
the point.
“No. Yes.” He gritted his teeth. “Isabella’s close family friend, Arturo Franzoni, a
member of the cabinet here, was abducted from his doorway and she heard the whole
thing. He’s the head of La Guardia di Finanza, responsible for customs, art theft, and
banking for Italy.”
“Holy hell.” Maddie sounded grim.
“Also, there was a purse at his front door just like the ones left at the museums. I
think they planned to snatch him and blow up his house as a warning to others.”
“Well, that certainly fits right into the rest of this.”
Lane watched Isabella carefully push herself off the bed, pull a robe from the closet
and belt the sash tightly at her waist. She was pale but steadier than she’d been a
minute ago, and listening to his end of the conversation.
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Until Twilight
“Listen.” He walked out of the room to continue the call. “Isabella’s insisting on
going to Rome to look into this and the bomb threat there.”
“But the G8 ministers are already assembling in Paris,” Maddie protested.
“There isn’t going to be an attack until they’re all in the same room,” Lane pointed
out logically. “If we get there tomorrow we’ll still have plenty of time. And we may
pick up more information in Rome.”
“All right,” Maddie told him with reluctance. “I’m going to tell myself you’re using
good judgment here, Lane. Don’t disappoint me.”
“Maddie, for what we’re paying her we need to believe in her instincts. And you
need to believe in mine.”
He snapped his phone shut and turned to find Isabella looking at him.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For believing that I know what I’m doing and standing up for me to Maddie.”
Lane shoved his cell phone in his pocket and pulled Bella into his arms. God, she
was so soft against him, those lush breasts like clouds of cotton against his chest. He leaned his cheek against her hair and inhaled her scent. Lane Hallowell had been with
more than his share of women in his lifetime but none of them had affected him with
such cataclysmic impact. None had seared themselves into his soul the way Isabella
Sebastiani did.
“From the moment I met you,” he murmured, “I knew you were what Nemesis
needed and what I needed. Nothing’s happened to change that.”
“We need to get moving, then. We have a lot of territory to cover if we’re going to
be in Paris by tomorrow.”
He cupped her cheeks. “And we’ll get it done.” He took her mouth in a scorching
kiss, his cock hardening and pressing against his fly, his balls tingling. With great effort he pulled himself away. “Okay.
Now
we can get ready.”
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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
* * * * *
Lane leaned against the wall of the Italian government office and watched Isabella
in yet another heated discussion with Emilio Umberto, Arturo Franzoni’s vice minister
for finance.
“I assure you,” she told him, “the agency I work for is treating this with the utmost
priority. And Signore Franzoni is an old family friend, as well. Trust me, we are doing everything we can.”
The man looked from her to Lane, panic still flashing in his eyes, his plump little
body vibrating with tension. Because Arturo Franzoni was now not attending the G8
conference, Umberto would take his place. “I want him found. Very quickly.”
She and Lane nodded. In the hours since she and Lane had arrived in Rome, they
has been to Arturo’s house, questioned his wife and the maid, questioned everyone at
his office, and Isabella had disarmed the explosives in the purse left at the Franzoni
doorstep. She’d also neutralized the one at the Villa Borghese and Lane worried she
was running on the edge of nervous energy.
It had been a long, stressful day for everyone, waiting for word from the
kidnappers and trying to find any clues to who they were. Lane had been on the phone
constantly to Nemesis headquarters in Texas, Dan working his international contacts
and Maddie searching on the computer. Now Lane and Isabella were in Umberto’s
office, waiting for preliminary results of forensics reports from the scene of the
kidnapping. Fortifying themselves with cups of rich Italian coffee, they were listening once more to the tape of the phone call that had come in just moments before, exactly at ten a.m. local time.
Minister Franzoni is safe. For the moment. But his continued good health depends on your
ability to act quickly. The G8 countries must move immediately to freeze all assets of the
immoral Kopf Industries. If you are too weak to prosecute these criminals then we must take
action. They must be stopped. When this is announced on international television the minister
will be released. You have forty-eight hours to act. Octo has spoken.
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Until Twilight
They all stared at each other.
Lane frowned. “If Octo is giving the G8 forty-eight hours to freeze the Kopf assets,
that means they want it done before the meeting begins.”
“And that voice is the same voice as the message we listened to in Florence,”
Isabella said. “If they don’t even bother to disguise the voice then they don’t care if we catch them. Are they crazy? They could kill Arturo at any moment.”
“They’re not going to kill him,” Lane said quietly, setting his cup and saucer on the
desk.
“And you know this how?” Umberto asked.
“He’s their ace in the hole. They need him alive or they have no bargaining chip.
But if we don’t at least give the appearance we are acting, then I’m afraid not just
Franzoni but all the G8 ministers will be killed when they gather in Paris.”
“Just who is this Octo?” Umberto asked. “I have never heard of them.”
“Nemesis is working at warp speed to discover the identities.” At that moment his
cell phone rang. Looking at the readout, he excused himself and walked to the corner to take the call. When he finished he sat down again, his heart very grim.
“What is it?” Bella asked. Then she clenched her hands. “Not about Arturo.”
“No.” Lane shook his head. “That was Dan. He’s found out a little information on
Octo from one of his former contacts.”
“Well?” she asked impatiently.
“They are brand new,” he told her. “Rumor has it they are young hotheads fed up
with the fiscal manipulations of Kopf Industries. The theory is each of them has faced
financial ruin in some form because of that. One of the suspected members of Octo is a
Frenchman by the name of Liebermann. His family was robbed by the Nazis of their
family art treasures during the Occupation in the forties. Liebermann is an activist to get all that art back from current owners, who are, by his view, illegally retaining the 59
Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
works. So this may be a connection to the story that the heads of Kopf own many pieces