Page 13 of Disarming Caine

“I know,” he whined quietly. “I shouldn’t be talking to you right now.”

“If you’ve got details, give them to me.” I took his hand away from my face and held it. Maybe the gesture would make him open up and tell me more.

“I shouldn’t have had so much.” He stared at our joined hands and began rubbing my knuckles with his thumb. His head rolled back and he whipped his hand up to the ceiling. “Oh, shit. I filed a claim earlier today.”

I turned around to see a large water spot on the ceiling.

“Would you be my adjuster?” He giggled as his head fell to the cushion.

Christ, don’t lose focus, Nathan.“We were talking about Antonio.”

“Exactly.”

What the hell did that mean? “Tell me what makes him so dangerous. What would I get caught in the middle of?”

“He’s not coming home until April, you said?”

“Yeah.”

“Good to know,” he yawned.

I took his hand again and squeezed. Nothing. I tapped his cheek, trying to keep him with me. “Tell me!”

His eyes fluttered open. “I just want to protect you, Sam.”

Hanging my head, I sighed. He was too drunk. His grip went slack, and I placed his hand on his chest. The kitchen was open to the family room, all dark wood and stainless steel. I rummaged through a few cupboards until I found a big bowl and returned to him, putting it on the floor below his head. Hopefully, if he woke up to vomit in the middle of the night, he’d have the forethought to aim for the bowl.

After that, I took a quick peek at the water damage. Didn’t look complicated from downstairs, and I knew his ensuite was above the family room, but I’d check that out later. I logged into the Foster Mutual claims system on my phone and assigned his claim to myself. Wednesday evening appointment. His phone buzzed on the table from the automated notification.

On my way out, I straightened the sailboat paintings on the wall he’d run into and righted a small baseball trophy in an alcove. I found a spare house key hanging in the closet at the front door, enabled the security system, and locked up behind me.

I tumbled his words over in my brain as I drove home. Nathan had been feeding me warnings since July. He was working on a case with the FBI which involved a Ferraro family outside of Rome. I’d dismissed it originally because it was all conjecture and there was no link to Antonio.

But I knew more since my visit to Naples in September. Had Nathan learned something about Antonio that I deserved to know?

Or was it more overprotective macho bullshit?

Chapter 5

Antonio

Earlythenextafternoon,I sat on a small bench in the Casa di Marte’s triclinium, the formal dining room my team had conserved over the last three months. We’d spent the time cleaning, repairing, and stabilizing it so it would not require additional work for decades, if not longer.

Each pump from my heart stabbed through my brain. I guzzled water, as I’d been doing since I woke, hoping the headache would eventually pass. Minerva’s painted face glowered down at me from across the room, as though lecturing me for my behavior. Every fiber of my being echoed that look, screaming at me to go back to my dark bedroom and stay there for hours.

Mario sat next to me on the bench. “Have you called her?”

Checking my watch, I shook my head. “She goes for a run when she wakes up, then weights, breakfast, and shower. It’s only eight in the morning there. She was up late, so probably slept in and wouldn’t be done yet.”

“You mean you’re avoiding her?”

I scowled at him, but he retrieved my phone from the conservation desk where the laptops sat in the middle of our outdoor workspace.

He forced the phone into my hand. “Because she’s been trying to reach you.”

Five calls and three texts in the last hour. I should have been paying closer attention instead of nursing this hangover. “What do I say?”

“Start with an apology?”

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