Page 14 of Light Me Up

Unlucky bastards, but they’d served their purpose. It almost made him speculate about the dark legends that hovered around Orazio’s cross. Some said it was cursed by Orazio’s sister Maria Cristina, who had dabbled in black magic,or sothe story went.

Pure nonsense, of course. The world was governed by facts, rules, observable physical laws. He who mastered those laws, such as himself, mastered the world.

He went to the box and pawed at the shredded plastic packing material.

The true, authentic Cross of Orazio blazed up at him, bright even in the dim light, its exquisite carvings richly gilded and bejeweled. In pristine condition, as if it had just been created. When the earthquake and subsequent landslide had buried Orazio’s palazzo, the chapel that housed the cross had somehow remained intact, sealed shut by a torrent of earth that had solidified over five centuries. The cross had been completely protected from the elements, extreme temperatures, thieves, and the ravages of time.

Such a beautiful thing. He’d salvaged it, and he deserved it for all this trouble. After tomorrow, the Sala dell’Annunziata would be closed forever, its grandeur shattered, the blood of the dead forever staining its blackened walls. And the supposedly priceless shining cross would be broken into a thousand pieces.

Everyone but him would consider the cross gone forever.

It was a huge gamble, but he’d always been cold-blooded about risk. The counterfeit alone had cost a fortune. The switch had been tricky to coordinate, with all the hoopla and press about the rediscovered cross. And the meticulously handcrafted fake had been a huge undertaking, years in the making. He’d been forced to personally make follow-up arrangements for the multiple artisans who had worked on it.

All of them gone now. Russo and the others had seen to it. The artisans had been handpicked for their personal profiles. Old men, skilled in techniques now forgotten by later generations. Some embittered, some half-crazy, all of them lonely. Childless widowers, every one. No grown children or grandchildren toask questions.

All dead. Natural causes. Strokes, heart attacks, falls,car accidents.

Or Maria Cristina di Coronna’s curse.

He smiled as he stroked the carving of Herod’s throne. His fingertip brushed the gems that studded Herod’s garment. It was all coming together. All the hard work, the meticulous planning, the staggering expense. But it was goingto be worth it.

Tomorrow’s event would send economic shock waves around the world. And if the markets behaved as he knew they would, those shock waves would flood his anonymous overseas accounts with money.

Like a tidal wave.

Chapter 5

Caro shook herself awake, heart pounding in terror, and stared around, disoriented. Like she didevery morning.

Just a dream.It was her usual nightmare: violence, explosions, breaking glass, shrieks, blood sprayed across white plaster dust. Fallen bodies with empty eye sockets, streaming tears of blood. No nightmare was complete without that detail.

And that in her dream, she was always stuck in place,unable to run.

At least it was a dream, not a waking vision. Those bloody, empty-eye stress flashbacks were exhausting, like horror movie jump scares. Since the wedding, they’d tapered off. She hadn’t had one in weeks. Thatwas a victory.

She stretched out and let her breathing ease as she gazed out the window. Willing her heart to slow down. Through the window she could see red roof tiles, window boxes full of flowers, and a chunk of brilliantly blue sky. She rested her eyes on that spot of blue, letting the ugly images fade.

That was past. This was now. She still struggled to convince herself it was real. ThatNoah was real.

It really was improbable. That she should be lolling in bed after hours of amazing sex with a gorgeous man with whom she was absolutely crazy in love. In Rome,for God’s sake.

Her overwhelmed mind would not accept this as reality. It felt like a wishful hallucination. It would pass, and when it did, she would be well and truly fucked.

The terror and deprivation of last year had stained her mind. Months of relentless fear while she ran desperately from Mark Olund. The horrific things she’d seen and endured might never fade, particularly with her anomalous visual quirks. Her ability to visualize so vividly sometimes caused her memories to take on real physical form right before her eyes. It freaked people out if she didn’t keep her reaction tightly under wraps. Which was tricky, when the really ugly memories took her by surprise.

She shouldn’t be telling Noah that he just needed to relax and accept his good fortune. She struggled with the past just ashard as he did.

Whatever. She tried, he tried. They just had to keep fighting, taking it minute by minute. Trying to believe in theirown good luck.

Lucky her, to fight her battle alongside someone as amazing as Noah Gallagher. While geeking out on art and wallowing in over-the-top luxuryand, well…him.

Sex was actually the least of it. Even putting aside how he’d been modified into a supersoldier and the strange, science-fictiony stuff in his past, Noah himself was like no other man she’d ever met. His focus, his mental powers, his natural-as-breathing heroism.

Somehow, this supernaturally hot, strong, tough, amazing guy had decided that she was everything he ever wanted. The answer to all hisdeepest needs.

And now he was her honest to God husband. Flipping wow.

Caro rolled over, looking around for Noah. The bed was rumpled from their erotic antics last night, but Noah never actually slept in it. He relied on sentinel sleep. He rested one brain hemisphere at a time while the other remained sharp andultra-vigilant.

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