Page 39 of Scarlet Angel

“Rain check on that drink?” I ask.

“Right. I’ve got to drive back.”

“You have everything you need?” I ask Nigel. I have questions about Leo, but Interpol’s a useful alliance. I trust the chaps to push the case against the Lupi Grigi forward.

“We do. Appreciate this,” Nigel says. “Should move quickly.”

“Excellent. Remember, they’ve got people at all levels within the Italian government. Throughout the EU.”

“We’re aware. Until we have warrants for arrests, only the highest security clearance shall know,” Nigel says.

That doesn’t mean much, but we shall see if Interpol can do its job. It’s a preferable path. If they fail, I’ll have Massimo assassinated.

Scarlet carries the cordial, mindless chatter to the front of the house. We stand side by side like the couple from the American Gothic painting, watching them leave. I half wish for a pitchfork to hold.

The vehicle grinds gravel as it rounds the fountain.

“What exactly is it that you do?” Scarlet asks, her high-pitched tone a blend of probing and judgmental.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”

I don’t bother suppressing my smile. She doesn’t blink.

“I’m a businessman.”

“How does this exchange with Interpol benefit your business?”

It’s an astute question to ask any proprietor, although one best asked before she met with the Interpol blokes.

“Darling, it’s a little late to ask those questions, don’t you think?”

“Why?” She sounds affronted.

“Because you just signed your life over to me.”

“I did not.” Her shoulders are back, and those bewitching green irises darken.

“But you did,” I say, quite aware I’m strengthening the storm brewing within the temptress. “You see, I’m the one who will keep you alive.”

I expect a fight. I yearn for it. But those irises brighten, the storm clouds inexplicably blown away.

Her hands flutter at her sides until they settle down over her waist. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

She’s rational. Too rational. What’s she up to?

“It’s my understanding I might be needed in court, and if so, I can avail myself of witness protection. If this happens as quickly as Nigel thinks, I might not need to prevail on your kindness for long.”

Trusting one’s life with the international community is borderline insanity. But I’ll make my case later on.

“I’m having trouble determining which side you’re on,” she says.

“Are you now?”

“Yes.”

“There are no sides, love. Only objectives.”

“And what is yours?”

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