Page 17 of Enduring Caine
I slipped out from under the covers and went into the bathroom to splash water on my face. Maybe I could sneak next door. When I’d come out four hours ago, Antonio and Cristian were talking, but there was a guard stationed on the other side of the landing around the open staircase.
Maybe I should have gone straight to Mario’s. At least I wouldn’t be stuck so close to Antonio, but so far away.
I dried my face and walked to the wall adjoining our rooms, pressing my forehead against it. My hand rose to the wall, palm flat like I could touch him by touching his room. He needed his rest. Knocking to wake him up was a bad idea. I curled my hand into a fist, laying it against the wall, battling my need to be next to him.
I was strong. I had work to do here, and I could get through this.
A clunking noise came from his room, like from a glass or something being put on a table.
I pressed my ear to the wall. The sound came again.
Along with faint voices and music. Gunfire. Explosion.
He was awake! Watching a movie.
Damn the guards. They wouldn’t shoot me for visiting him. I opened my door as casually as possible and headed for Antonio’s room.
A man in black pants and shirt interrupted his patrol of the floor to approach me. “Is there something I can help with?”
“He has my sleeping pills.” I knocked once, and the man grabbed my arm. When I yanked against his grip, he held firm. Before I could smash a palm into his sternum or knee him in the groin, Antonio’s door clicked open.
“What are you doing?” Antonio snapped at the guard. “Take your hands off of her.”
The guard did exactly that. “Sorry, Mr. Ferraro.”
“The title is Doctor,” Antonio sneered. He wore the lounge pants from the airline. We must have made quite the pair in our matching outfits. He glowered at the man a moment longer, until he stepped back, then Antonio’s gaze fell to me. “Are you alright, bella?”
“You have my sleeping pills.”
He stared, brows turning down. It was a lie, but he said, “Sì, of course. I forgot them in my bag.”
I walked in through the open door, Antonio’s broad form just behind me. So close I could feel his presence, already calming my heart more than the breathing exercises did. The door didn’t shut, though, so I looked back and saw the guard holding it open. There’d be no sneaking around like teenagers.
I flicked on the bathroom light as we entered.
“We’ll just be a moment,” said Antonio as he closed the door, ensuring the guard wouldn’t follow us. He turned me to face him and pulled me to his chest, groaning as he slid his injured arm around me.
“Sorry if I woke you.”
“All this flying from Italia to America and back again has my body clock rather confused.” He kissed the side of my head. “Plus, I rolled onto my arm and it woke me up.”
No matter how many times I watched him die in my dreams, or had someone tell me he was gone, or just felt his presence leave the world, it ripped a hole in my heart every time. Having his arms around me, my cheek pressed to his, and having a moment to simply breathe together centered me.
“Did you have another bad dream?”
“I have a balcony attached to my room that I haven’t explored yet. Does it link up with yours?”
“No, but they’re close enough to talk from.”
I pulled back from him. “Give me a couple of whatever pills will convince him, then meet me outside?”
“Of course, bella.”
I stepped out onto the small balcony, bundled in my winter jacket. “Holy shit, it’s a lot colder than I was expecting!”
Antonio chuckled, wrapped up in his blankets. He sat on the thick stone railing, leaning against the wall. “Warmer than Michigan.”
“By a long shot.” We were four very tall stories up—lit by the half-moon and security lights on various buildings—and ten feet apart. Once the sun rose, I’d have to inspect the wall. Maybe the rough exterior would have hand holds and I could climb across. Note to self: pack climbing gear next time. “A bit cooler than my winters in southern California and Texas, but nowhere near as warm as southern Florida.”