Page 12 of Chasing Caine
With a quick kiss, I slid from the bed, pulled my lounge pants back on, and stalked to the door. I whipped it open only wide enough for my face and gave Mario my lowest growl. “What?”
He shrugged, palms up in apology. “I thought you would have been sweet-talking her for at least a few minutes before you—”
“Enough! What’s so important?”
“The officer’s downstairs.”
“Tell them to wait.” I pushed back from the door and began to close it, but Mario inserted his foot.
“The officer won’t wait—” He gestured toward the door, likely aiming for the bed. “—thatlong.”
I turned to look at her, lying with a sheet pulled up strategically on the bed. She’d rolled over to her side, head propped up, emphasizing her narrow waist and gentle hips. Marone, that woman was gorgeous.
“He said he has a few questions,” said Mario. “No more than half an hour.”
Samantha bit down on her lip, her jaw quivering as she suppressed a yawn. We’d both sleep well tonight. Eventually.
I turned back to my infuriating cousin with a curt nod. “Fine, I’ll be right down.”
He stifled a laugh. “To the kitchen?”
“Sì, to the kitchen.” I shoved him before closing the door.
“Everything alright?” asked Samantha. “Is this bad timing?”
“I have something to deal with.” I crossed to my dresser and pulled out a T-shirt and some lounge shorts. “Put these on. Go out and enjoy the view.”
She sat up and accepted the clothes, pulling only the T-shirt on. It was an old cotton band shirt from some friends, washed so many times it was the softest thing I owned. Navy blue with gold lettering across it.
“You look beautiful in that.”
Her eyes reached for the sky, as they so often did. “How long will you be?”
“I’m hoping for five minutes, but more likely twenty or thirty.” I put a knee on the edge of the bed and pulled her face to mine for one more lingering kiss. My blood traveled lower and I eased away. “Keep the timer on your watch paused. I want every second I can get.”
She blinked slowly. “I’ll be waiting.”
I’dpulledawhitepolo shirt over top the dark gray lounge pants, as formal as I would be at this moment. A matter of hours ago, I’d sat outside with Mario, thinking how lucky I was that the Carabinieri would be investigating. Now? I couldn’t get him out of here fast enough. The woman of my dreams was waiting for me in bed, and I had to answer questions for an investigation that wasn’t nearly as high of a priority to me as it was yesterday.
As I entered the kitchen, Mario sat at the dining table with the young officer, a man with dark hair and eyes, a whisper of a beard on his chin. He wore the light blue summer uniform with a white belt across his chest, peak cap on the table. Each had a coffee in front of him.
“Dr. Antonio Ferraro.” I thrust my hand out to shake. “I trust this won’t take long?”
“Carabiniere Fredo De Rosa.” He stood and took my hand. “And no, it won’t.”
I joined them at the table and Mario pointed to his coffee, offering one to me, but I shook my head. “What can I do for you?”
The officer flipped open the notepad in front of him and clicked his pen. “I spoke with an archaeologist at the Pompeii Archaeological Park yesterday who explained that three pigment pot relics had been stolen. She also advised me that a highly valuable piece of equipment vanished at the same time.”
“Not really,” I said. “I wouldn’t call ithighly valuable,nor did it vanish. It went missing in transport and the shipping company is trying to track it down.”
He nodded, making some notes. “The precise value? Street value, perhaps?”
I shrugged, looking at Mario, who did the same. “That information would be on record at the lab. I don’t have it here.”
Mario said, “Neither do I.”
De Rosa continued. “We just got word that one of the pots—with a blue pigment in it—was recovered in Rome only hours ago.”