Page 78 of No Stone Unturned

“Apparently so. The woman who brought me to the church in San Mauro wasn’t Italian.” His mind sorted through the possibilities. Could his biological mother be American? Was that why he supposedly had American citizenship? But if she gave him up for adoption, wouldn’t he have forfeited the citizenship? Was that even possible?

What the hell is going on?

They weren’t going to find any more answers here. After thanking Manuel for his time and the coffee, he left a business card with his contact information and ushered Lexi out of the apartment. He saw the surprise on her face when he led her toward the beach instead of the car, but he needed some fresh air and a bit of a walk to clear his head and thoughts. Having to drive with the distraction of what was going through his head at the moment was neither wise nor safe. Thankfully, she didn’t question him, just followed his lead, understanding that he didn’t feel like talking at the moment. He needed time to process first, to figure out what everything meant.

He took her hand as they walked, taking comfort in her presence. They strolled for nearly a mile in silence, before he spoke.

“I don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved he isn’t my biological father,” he said. “Not that it matters. That’s not why we came.”

She’d returned the floppy hat to her head. The ribbon was only half on and the breeze caused it to stream out behind her as they walked. Strange, but he’d become kind of attached to the hat on her.

“Regardless of why we came, I know that finding out the truth about your family is important to you,” she said.

“Iknowwho my family is. This isn’t about that.” It came out sharper than he intended, and he tried to temper his tone. “I just want to know who my father is. I can take it from there.”

She wasn’t going to let him get away with that comment. “Are you sure that’s all?” She turned her gaze on him, tucking her arm into his elbow. “You’re a mystery, Slash. There are things that don’t add up about you. Your citizenship, your missing past and why the president of the Vatican is so obsessed with your paternity. But having said that, yes, you do know who your family is, and that includes me. Unfortunately we’re back to square one. Manuel de Rosa isn’t your father, but he did give us useful information. Your biological mother, or at least the woman who brought you to Father Armando, spoke English. That alone could account for the American citizenship you didn’t know about.”

“Perhaps. But who is she and how can we know for sure if she was my mother?” He sounded irritable, testy, because he was. He was used to getting immediate results, setting his mind to something and taking care of it. Instead, he’d faced disappointment after disappointment since he’d arrived, and they seemed no closer to the answers to their questions they sought.

“Other than the fact that you somehow have American citizenship without naturalization, I don’t think we can know for sure yet.”

God help him, there was a reason he’d never opened this can of worms. Now that the can had been pried open, he wanted nothing more than to toss it into the sea. But he couldn’t. Not if he wanted to stop Cardinal Lazo. Not if he was going to fix things with the woman he loved. That meant the search for his father stayed on. One thing was certain, however, he didnotwant to dig into the past of his biological mother. He’d shut out any thought of her for so long that opening that door was not somewhere he wanted to go. He was still not able to fathom how she could have left him and gone on with her life, while he’d lost the first seven years of his to events so awful he couldn’t remember them.

Regardless, a part of him argued that line of reasoning wasn’t logical. It wasn’t fair to judge his mother when he had no idea of her circumstances. He also couldn’t afford to keep her out of the equation. His mother’s identity could be an important clue to the identity of his father, perhaps the only way he could get the answers he sought.

So, he had to stay focused and objective—look at it the way Lexi was doing—logically, clinically and without the uncomfortable emotions that were coloring his judgment.

He wouldn’t get the answers or the truth any other way.

They walked along a path that paralleled the shore, passing a couple of joggers, a mother pushing a pram and some teenagers. The crash of the waves, the sound of the seagulls and Lexi’s presence calmed him, helped him think.

“You’re right,cara,” he finally said. “The American connection would make senseifthe woman who brought me to Father Armando actually was my mother. How do we know it wasn’t someone else acting as a proxy on her behalf?”

“It could have been, but it still doesn’t change the fact that in order for you to get the citizenship your mother would have to have been American.” Her brow furrowed as she looked out at the water, thinking.

“If my American citizenship is a real thing,” he said.

She wound a strand of hair around her finger, still thinking. “Whether we like it or not, Slash, we’re at a dead end. We can hack anywhere in the world, but without the name of either your biological mother or father, we have nowhere to start and we have to get back to our lives in the States.”

“I know.” Examining these truths about his childhood was more difficult than he’d expected. He’d believed that if he ignored them, their significance would fade. But that hadn’t happened. Instead they’d surfaced, driving an ugly wedge between him and the one person he loved more than anyone in the world.

“Do you have any idea how many people stare at you?” she suddenly asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Hmmm?”

“People look at you, Slash. I mean, really look at you. Father Armando said something interesting about you when I spoke with him. He said you have a compelling way about you—a certain magnetism. I think he was onto something. People are drawn to you, Slash. Even when you were a baby.”

He shrugged. “Babies are helpless and physical attributes are surface-deep. People like looking at pretty things. It means nothing.”

“That’s not what I meant. Magnetism isn’t physical. It’s chemical. Peoplefeelsomething when they look at you.”

“Is that so? Then how did you resist me for so long?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because you refrained, mostly, from seducing me with your stellar good looks and charm, although you could have easily done so. You approached me differently. You said so yourself.”

“That’s true,” he conceded. “You were completely different from any other woman I’d ever met. I didn’t want you to come to me the way most people did. But it also meant I wasn’t sure how to go about getting you to love me.”

“That makes no sense. You just had to be yourself. Obviously, that was enough for me.”

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