Page 52 of No Stone Unturned

“Good. When will the DNA results be in?”

“Soon. Forty-eight hours, possibly earlier, is the window we were given. We requested the highest level of expediency, of course.”

“The sooner the better.”

“Understood. But, sir, what if Slash doesn’t cooperate?” Father Koenhein’s voice was tenuous, worried. “What will we do?”

Jacopo gave his clerk a reassuring smile. He was a powerful man, and he knew when he held all the cards. “He’ll cooperate. For the first time in his life, he has something important to lose. He’ll do it, and even if he doesn’t, we’ll have what we need to crush him if he gets in our way. I will not risk the future of this church to a man like him.”

“Yes, of course, you’re right, Your Eminence.”

Jacopo smiled. “By the grace of God, I always am.”

Lexi

I woke a few hours later feeling significantly better. Slash slept beside me, his arm draped over my hip. I shifted slightly, wanting to look at him but not wanting to wake him. The curtain was blowing from the open balcony door, and the gentle breeze felt good. Dusk was falling. There was still enough light to see his face, the long column of his throat, the dark smudges under his eyes, and raspy cheeks. His chest rose and fell with each breath. The fact that he slept so deeply likely meant he hadn’t been sleeping well. I understood that.

Still, even in exhaustion, he was a beautiful sight. Father Armando was right, Slash was extraordinarily handsome. Midnight-black hair and a face nearly perfect in its symmetry—a generous mouth, aquiline nose and square jaw. I ran my fingertips down a well-muscled biceps to his long, strong fingers. Classic and strong features from the ancient Roman tradition. I wondered if his shoulders ever wearied of the burdens he carried.

I watched Slash sleep for a few more minutes, then slipped out from beneath his arm and headed to the bathroom. I grabbed my backpack as I went, making sure I had a toothbrush, shampoo and a clean change of clothes.

When I came out of the bathroom, Slash was awake, dressed and sitting on the side of the bed. He was putting on his shoes and smiled when he saw me. It lit up his whole face.

“Better?” he asked.

“Significantly.” I dropped my backpack on the bed. “But I’m starving.”

“Luckily, I’ve got dinner all planned.”

“I hope it involved lots and lots of incredible Italian food.”

“It does. It also involves that surprise I was telling you about earlier.”

I looked down at my stretchy blue cotton sundress and flat sandals. “Is this good enough in terms of the dress code? I didn’t pack anything fancier.”

“It’s perfect. Let me shave and we’ll go.”

Surprisingly, we didn’t go far. He led me up the hotel stairs to a rooftop terrace restaurant. There were about twenty-five small tables. Small torch lights ringed the roof. Candles flickered on tables covered with crisp white tablecloths. It was still warm, but with the sun having set and a nice breeze stirring the air, it was almost pleasant.

Slash had reserved a table for two in one corner and we followed the maître d’ to our seats.

“This is really nice,” I said as we were seated. “You can see all of Genoa from up here.” Lights twinkled below us while cars made noises on the streets as they passed.

“I knew you’d like it. You can’t see all of Genoa, but most of it. There’s the bell tower of the Cathedral of San Lorenzo, where I presume you met with Father Armando. You can see the people gathering there for the candlelight vigil in honor of the saints-to-be.”

“An English tourist told me about the sainthood thing. I take it that’s a big deal in Italy.”

“It is, indeed.”

The waiter arrived at our table and asked us if we wanted anything to drink. Slash asked me if I preferred meat or fish for dinner so he could base the wine selection from that.

“I’m going to let you choose,” I said. “Wine and food.”

“Okay.” He dipped his head, studied the menu, then spoke to the waiter in Italian. The waiter asked him a few questions and then left.

“What are we having?” I asked.

“Creamedbaccalà, which is a salt cod made with potato and parsley. I selected a local Ligurian wine to go with it. Genoa sits at the center of Liguria’s largest wine-producing territory, theLiguria Riviera di Ponente. Excellent wines are made here. My favorite is a white wine made fromalbarolagrapes, which will go well with our dinner. Do you approve?”

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