Page 17 of Robbie

“You can’t carry a firearm in Italy, unless you’re active police or military,” Robbie said calmly.

“Don’t tell me what I can do. Hand over the money.”

Alice tried to peek around, but Robbie held her fast. How was he going to stay safe against a bullet? They should hand everything over. She was wearing a diamond necklace, earrings, and two expensive rings her mother had gifted her. She liked to wear them, but they could be replaced. Robbie couldn’t.

Please, Lord, she begged.Please don’t let him die too.

“Big Buddha?” Robbie asked.

“What?”

“Are you Big Buddha?”

“Do I look like a Big Buddha to you?”

Suddenly, the man yelped in surprise. Alice was finally able to look around Robbie’s side. Price and Merrick were closing in behind the man.

He tucked the gun into a pocket and ran at Robbie and Alice.

“Stop,” Price commanded from behind him, his own pistol out as he approached.

The man leaped and grabbed a balcony. He easily flung himself up over the railing, then ran several steps and vaulted to the next balcony. It was an impressive athletic feat.

Robbie spun and ushered her back toward their bodyguards, who were rushing toward them. “Price. Merrick. Call the police. Get Alice back to the condo.”

Then he took off at a sprint.

Alice watched him disappear, following the man who was springing from balcony to balcony.

Price and Merrick closed in on her. Tears sprang to her eyes. Robbie should let that man go. If he caught him and the man shot Robbie…

How would she live with herself for putting him in danger?

Chapter

Nine

Robbie followedthe assailant on ground level as the wiry man leaped from balcony to balcony. The dude was quick, but Robbie could easily keep up. What was the guy’s plan? Why hadn’t he shot at him earlier? Because of Price and Merrick closing in?

Price was one of the most impressive men he’d ever worked with. He and Merrick would get Alice to safety so Robbie could focus on capturing their would-be attacker. Could he have a connection to Big Buddha? He’d acted clueless and irritated by the question.

The man reached a waterway. He flipped over the balcony’s edge, swung from the railing, and landed on the bridge, taking off at a sprint. Robbie pushed himself to keep up.

A couple of policemen appeared behind Robbie and hollered, “Fermati!” He didn’t halt and neither did the assailant. Robbie refused to lose him.

They scrambled down one narrow street after another, flying over bridges and dodging around couples out for an evening stroll. The policemen fell off. No backup. Robbie ran faster. He couldn’t let the man escape.

The back streets were fairly quiet, and the man didn’t pull out his gun again or try to confront Robbie. He just ran and ran and ran.

Robbie thought he was in great shape. Not quite the level he’d been at as a Ranger, but he worked out hard every day—lifting weights, running, biking, and he even forced himself to do yoga to help his flexibility and injury prevention. This small dude was giving him a run for his fitness level. Robbie’s legs were tiring, and his breath came in fast pants.

They burst out onto a busier street. The assailant paused and then scurried around a group of tourists. Robbie saw a police officer. The man was searching the crowd, possibly searching for them.

“Pistola,” Robbie yelled, pointing at the assailant. “Pistola. Penale!”

The policeman swung their way. The runner dodged away from the officer. Several in the crowd cried out in surprise.

Robbie took advantage and tackled him onto the stone pavers. The man screeched and tried to scrabble away. Robbie kept him pinned. Women screamed and people backed away.

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