Page 8 of Enduring Caine

“Back off!” The guy lifted a hand as though he were about to shove Antonio.

I shuffled to the side and swatted the arm away before he could. “Sorry, our mistake.”

“Get your hands off—” started another man in the group.

Antonio sidestepped as the women stopped instead of running into them. “Bella—”

I grabbed the back of his jacket, pulling him around the group. I glimpsed the driver, who—like everyone else in the vicinity—was looking in our direction. “Shit. That was the worst sneaking ever. Let’s go.”

The first man and two of the women hollered curses at us and resumed their pace. They weren’t nearly as good a cover as they should have been.

My legs were no match for Antonio’s long strides, but he slowed, so I didn’t have to run and make more of a scene. There was still a chance he’d lose us in the airport crowds, as people walked between gates and doors, from shops and cafés.

We were nearly at the exit when the driver appeared with his ‘Dr. Antonio Ferraro’ sign.

“Dr. Ferraro,” he said in English, looking from Antonio to me. “Ms. Caine?”

Well, that answered that question. He knew who I was.

“I’m sorry, you have us confused for someone else,” said Antonio, pushing me toward the door.

“I was told you might say that.” The driver fished in a pocket and pulled out his phone, showing Antonio’s photo. “Your uncle politely requests your company.”

Antonio’s face flushed, sweat collecting at his hairline. From stress or the injury? He’d been like that several times after getting out of the hospital.

I touched his good arm. Maybe we could get the visit over with quickly. He could find out what his uncle wanted, I could find the TPC agent and offer to help deliver some messages, then we could get to Mario’s and resume our wonderful vacation. “It’s fine, Antonio. We can go with him.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Caine,” the driver said. “The invitation is for Dr. Ferraro only. I’ve been instructed to drop you off at the train station. Your ticket to Naples has already been purchased.”

Son of a—

“I’m not going to see him.” Antonio’s voice rose, and people walking through the doors gave us a wide berth. “Tell him I’ll be there later. Onmyschedule.”

“Anton—”

He tossed his bag over his shoulder instead of holding it in place and used his free hand to nudge me toward the doors. “No. I’m sick of these men interfering and ruining everything.”

Ruining? He’d called Cristian last week for help and information about who was after us.

“Samantha and I are going to the train station. You can tell my uncle if he ever tries something like this again, he’ll never see me, for as long as I live.”

The driver remained calm, as though he dealt with outbursts like Antonio’s all the time. “I’ll pass the message along. Let me drive you to the train station.”

That was too easy. “Thank—”

“No.” Antonio urged me toward the exit. “You and I both know if we get in that car, you’ll take us nowhere near the train station.”

The driver stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “I’m sure you don’t want to inconvenience all the people at Termini with a delay?”

Antonio stopped, easing his shoulder forward to drop his bag into his hand. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve been sent here to bring you to see your uncle. I apologize if you don’t want to go, but I’m sure you can appreciate I need to do my job. We can drive Ms. Caine to the train station, but if you choose to get out there with her, I will have to ensure you don’t make it out of the station.”

What could possibly be so important to go through all this effort? To disrupt the train’s schedule?

I turned to face Antonio, blinking slowly at him. Being myself meant pressing my desire to visit his uncle. Showing him I wouldn’t be scared off by men who issued threats and broke laws. Proving I loved him by standing by his side when things got difficult.

He stared down at me, breaths rapid and more sweat beading on his forehead. Hopefully, it wasn’t an early sign of infection or some problem from flying with the arm in the sling.

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