Page 111 of Chasing Caine

He continued staring, most likely in some level of shock, and nodded once.

I slammed a fist on the desk and ran past him. Past a library and an elevator. When I finally hit the stairs, I took them two at a time.

The police were there. That was something. But was Samantha safe? Was she alright?

Was she even alive?

Hand on the railing to maintain as much speed as possible, I rounded the landing midway between the second and third floors, colliding into a man huddled on the stairs. I careened into the wall, clutching onto him for balance.

I didn’t have time for this.

But as I pushed off him, I grabbed him again, spinning him up to slam him against the wall. My forearm at his throat. “You!”

Umberto’s eyes grew wide. He clawed at my arm until my fist connected with his midsection. His face contorted and he wheezed, “Help me.”

“Where is Samantha?”

“Room thirty-eight.”

I hauled him off the wall and wrapped a fist in his shirt. “Did your man hurt her?”

“She’s okay.”

Baring my teeth, I closed in on him. “If you’re lying, I swear to you—”

“I’m serious.” His eyes flicked from side to side, and he whimpered, “The other guy got there and he…”

I continued up the stairs, dragging Umberto each step. She wanted to catch the thief. Even put her life on the line for it. And she would have him.

He pulled at my hand, beat at my arm, but he was no match for my strength and adrenaline. “Eva made me do it!”

“You stole the fresco.” Two more steps to the top. “And you’re not getting away with it.”

“I was liberating it, not stealing.” He tripped over the last step, falling to his knees.

Tightening my grip, I heaved on his upper arm until he was standing again.

“The government puts it all on display for people who don’t appreciate it. Like those kids. It belongs in the hands of someone who recognizes its significance.”

I pulled open the door and shoved him through, knocking him against the far wall.

“Your master’s thesis talked about the effects of the weather and how Pompeii is fighting a losing battle. We should do what the museums do. Put the best pieces into controlled spaces so they’ll be safe,” Umberto pleaded with me.

I grabbed his shirt with both hands and pushed him in front of me. “And for that, my girlfriend’s life is at stake?”

“I told you! That was Eva’s idea.” His head craned around to see the activity behind us, the blue-shirted polizia coming in and out of a room down the hallway. He stumbled, landing on his knees again. “Please, just let me go.”

Leaning down, I grabbed him and threw him over my shoulder, rushing the rest of the way.

“No!” He beat at my back, flailed his legs, but I wouldn’t let Samantha down. Her fugitive would go to prison.

A female officer with long blond hair hollered at me to stop, but I continued to her, close enough to see the activity was in room thirty-eight.

I looked over her shoulder, hoping to spot Samantha or an officer I recognized. “My girlfriend was in there. I’m afraid they hurt her. Can I—”

“One, unless you’re a resident of one of these rooms, I can’t let you pass.” She rested her hands on her duty belt. “And two, you need to put the man down.”

“Fine.” I dropped Umberto at her feet, and he yelped. “He must have gotten out of there before you showed up. He’s involved in all of this mess.”