Page 44 of Renegade

Beautiful Man. Definitely Italian then. I’d learned a few words from Peety Morrison, the Iowa farm boy who’d been a part of my unit. His mother had been Italian, and he was always trying to teach us how to say certain phrases. I’d retained a few and since Italian was close enough to the Spanish I spoke fluently, I’d been a fast learner. Since my whole unit knew I was gay, Morrison taught me how to say Beautiful Man in Italian with the hopes that I’d be able to lure men to bed when we were out on leave. I’dnever had a problem finding a guy for a roll in the sheets while we were on leave, but it was nice of him, regardless.

“Please let me,signora,” Raven said, smiling at her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Ah, another beautiful man,” she said, turning toward Raven and batting her lashes. “Grazie, tesoro.” She handed her empty flute to Raven, and he gave me a brief nod before walking away to find a bartender. I was almost relieved. She’d clearly wanted to talk to me, and Raven and I both knew we’d come to figure out what the hell was going on with the ruby. Obviously, Raven had noticed the jewels she was wearing the same way I had. They were impossible to miss. I glanced around for her companion, hoping it would be someone connected to the case somehow.

“Are you here alone, Ms. Cassanova?”

“Alone? Oh, no,bello, I’m here with my friend,” she replied seductively.

I wondered if she were an operative and decided if she wasn’t, she definitely knew how to put her beauty to work for her. She stepped closer, and to my surprise, slipped her hand into the crook of my arm. She wore a cloying, and no doubt expensive floral perfume that stung my nose.

“We will take a walk, no?”

“Anything you’d like,” I replied, letting her take the lead in the crowded room. At the moment, I wished she’d take us outside to the gardens where I could breathe. It was hot as hell in here with all the bodies, despite the air conditioning. We walked slowly through the crowd in the direction Raven had gone. I could see him about a hundred feet away, up ahead of us.

“So, Miguel Huerta…you are Spanish, no?”

“Mexican,” I replied, directing my best smile down at her. She was a tall woman, but the stilettos gave her an added four or five inches in height which brought her scented hair up to my nose.

“Ah,si,Messicano,” she said, smiling at me. “It’s Southern California. I should have guessed.” I nodded. “The other man…he is your partner, no?”

I wasn’t sure what kind of partner she was referring to, so I asked. “Partner?”

“The beautiful man…he is your lover?”

I grinned, unable to stop it as I smiled. “Yes, his name is Raven.”

“Ah,like the bird. How lucky you are. He isbellisimo.”

“I agree.” I was happy I didn’t have to go into an explanation. Her flirtation sounded innocent, but I was a suspicious man. I’d come across female CIA operatives who’d surprised me with their flirtations before. I’d met one in Brazil during a mission our team had been on, who was extraordinarily beautiful.

I tore my gaze away from her and scanned the crowd, irritated that I could no longer see Raven’s dark head. He seemed to have vanished in the crowd. My heart rate sped up a little faster but then relaxed when I realized that no bar had been set up in the room either. I figured he’d have asked someone where to get more champagne and then gone off to find it. I looked back at my companion only to find her pouting a little. She clearly didn’t like it when the man on her arm wasn’t paying attention to her.

“He will find us, Mr. Huerta,” she said. “Come,tesoro. It’s so hot in here.” She tugged on my arm and then pointed at an exit to the garden. I nodded and turned us toward it, happy for the relief the cooler patio would provide. She was right. Raven would find us…so would Aston for that matter. If not, he’d mostlikely run into Raven with Mrs. Flores. He’d know the right kind of questions to ask the people we were there to meet. And I kind of wanted to take time to figure out why a woman with all these jewels wanted to talk to an openly gay man.

The tinkling sound of water from a large fountain was the first thing that hit me when we got outside. There were far fewer people out here than inside the building and we walked across the patio. The click of her heels could be heard over the buzz of numerous conversations around us as we headed for a low balustrade made of what could have been carved Italian marble but was most likely granite. In the dark, the views up here were breathtaking even if the smell of smoke from the devastating Palisades fire nearby still lingered. It seemed as if the whole city stretched out beneath us. I was relieved to see that life had gone on for some people, although I knew grief and loss had affected so many. Even though the garden was lit well by ornately turned pole lamps, the light pollution was much less here in the hills, so the stars were bright and twinkling.

“Ah,so beautiful, no?”

I turned to the woman who’d stopped at the barrier to the gardens laid out in terraces below. I noticed several couples taking steps downward. Beautiful gowns, sparkling jewelry, and men in black suits and ties, dotted the landscape. The stairs were arranged on either side of the large outdoor patio, and the couples stopped at each tier to enjoy the plantings of ornamental trees, lush plants, and flowers. I’m sure they felt much the same as I did, thankful that more people hadn’t perished in the horrific firestorm.

I deliberately put morbid thoughts out of my mind, intent on exploring this interesting turn of events as we looked out on the gardens. The setting reminded me of all those Regency romance novels I’d gotten hooked on reading one summer not longago before finding Nightcrawler’s review site. Just beneath the lowest terrace a large water structure of stacked granite formed a water feature with a trickling fountain running over the rocks into a small pool.

“It’s breathtaking,” I said, looking down into her sparkling, brown eyes.

“Ah, Miguel, such a beautiful man.” Rosina Cassanova let out a sigh before she seemed to gather her senses. When she suddenly laughed, my gaze was drawn to her perfect red lips. “We go down into the gardens. They are still so beautiful, no?”

I looked around, not seeing Raven, Aston, or Mrs. Flores anywhere. There were several people around and I was curious to learn more about my companion. I smiled, interested to see why she’d singled me out. Surely, she had a purpose. I inclined my head toward the garden. “Of course.”

“Superbo.” She tightened her hands in the crook of my arm, and I began leading her to the stairs to our left.

“So, tell me what you’re doing here tonight, Signora Cassanova,” I said.

“Ah,you Americans…so formal. You must call me Rosina and I will call you Miguel.”

“Fine, Rosina, then.” We got to the stairs and began walking down to the first terrace. “So, tell me, are you here because you simply have an interest in art or are you here in L.A. on business?”

“You don’t look like an art lover, so then…it must be business,” she said, not answering my question. She talked with a colorful flourish as her melodic accent swirled around her like the bright pink blooms of the azaleas we stopped to look at.

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