Page 102 of Chasing Caine
Of course he couldn’t. I spun on my heel, waving a hand over my head. “I’m taking our money elsewhere.”
Outside, my pace was even more rapid than on my way in. Heaven forbid something go right for me. Time to skulk back to the villa like I’d told Antonio I was doing in the first place. He wouldn’t have to know I’d failed again. The girl with the sore ankle who let the thief get away. Who almost got them stranded in a grotto.
No wonder he was looking for something more.
I stopped in my tracks, a giant of a man in a gray T-shirt who’d been walking too close collided with me, and I stumbled, a jolt of pain running up my left leg. He gripped my shoulders, steadying me, and asked in a deep English voice, “You okay?”
“Fine, fine.” I waved him off without looking up. Instead of standing there, I detoured to the building next to me and leaned my back against the wall. Rubbing my hands over my face. Breathing.
What was I doing?
Who was I mad at?
Why was I lashing out?
I pulled my phone out. Therewassomeone I could call. Someone who wouldn’t judge me for going off half-cocked and, if nothing else, would cheer me up.
“Sam!”cameLucy’sexcitedvoice. “How’s your trip? You never did answer: Can we go rock climbing this weekend? Although I guess I should ask first: When are you coming home?”
“Hi.”
Lucy Chapman had worked with me at Foster Mutual for a month. But what a month it had been. I’d met Antonio, taken on the claim that proved to be an arson and murder case, and made up with my former best friend, Janelle. Lucy was a rock through all of it. Always by my side, my sarcasm and attitude rolling right off her.
My circle of friends was small intentionally. But she’d inserted herself without having to try.
“Your reception sounds so much better. I looked it up after we talked the other day, and Naples has really good coverage. But you said you were near Capri. Who did you go with for your provider while you’re over there?”
“Lucy, I need some perspective.”
She laughed so suddenly and so loud I had to pull the phone from my ear. “That isnotwhy people call me.”
A hint of a smile tugged at my lips. “You’re the only one who was with me through the whole Chagall claim. I used to have reliable instincts, but I’m doubting myself now. I missed major clues, missed Antonio lying about the—”
“Wait, what?”
I’d shut her out from so much to protect her. At the end of her internship, she’d needed a recommendation to be guaranteed a position after she graduated. I’d made sure she got that just before the president of the company was arrested.
But it meant she didn’t know about Antonio’s lie or why we’d broken up originally. Let alone this time. If we were broken up. Were we? I hoped not.
“Antonio knew the Chagall was a fake the whole time.”
“Seriously?” She sucked in a breath, sounding almost impressed. “That’s why you decked him?”
“That wasn’t me.” I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face.
“What’s bugging you?”
“A fresco was stolen from the place where Antonio’s working. Then we found the guy who stole it, but he got away. I suspect someone who may have helped him, but need to confirm something they said.”
“And how does this lead to you calling me?”
“I don’t know.” I scanned the faces of people walking by. Couples, individuals, families, friends. All with their own lives and concerns, oblivious to everything I was dealing with. “I went to talk to someone who might have answers but she’s not at work.”
Clicking noises, like tapping on a keyboard, came through the phone. Was she having a separate online conversation? Updating her blog? “Anyone interesting?”
“Just some artist.”
“Want me to track her down?”