Page 73 of Enduring Caine

Font Size:

Page 73 of Enduring Caine

A dark blue sedan with red stripe and CARABINIERI emblazoned on the side drove up the driveway and vanished behind the corner of the tower, heading to the front door. Behind it, a van reading “Polizia Mortuaria.”

They called the police for Johann’s death? In some part of my brain, men like this never alerted the authorities of anything. It would risk too much attention to their business. Unless these men were on Giovanni’s payroll?

Clear your head, Sam.

I spun back into my room, closing the terrace doors behind me.

We had a TPC undercover agent waiting for whatever was in those crates. An FBI agent asking for proofThe Magdalenwas in Giovanni’s possession. One dead body.

Johann’s death could have been natural. Maybe it was a heart attack and he simply fell behind the barrels. The barrels were light enough for a single person to move. If someone murdered him, the person responsible should have tucked the body further out of the way or hidden him better.

Then there was the matter of the note. Was it his? Did he drop it when he died? Or did it belong to someone else? Did he surprise someone? It could have been a coincidence, but genuine coincidences were rare, particularly when the death of a young, fit man was involved.

I should have handed the note over to Leo when he arrived, but I was too pissed off from how he treated me to say anything. And there was no telling Henri, given the possibility he was colluding with Johann on whatever delivery they’d been whispering about.

Did we have a killer in the estate? Was it a crime of passion? Did Johann uncover something?

I halted my pacing as I reached the door to the tower. Did he discover Vincenzo was with the TPC? If Johann confronted him, would Vincenzo have killed someone to protect his identity? Memories washed over me. Riding through Rome together on a scooter, throwing coins into the Trevi Fountain, touring the Vatican with him. There was no way Vincenzo was capable of that.

Was he?

It had been ten years since I last saw him. I’d changed in that time, and he would have, too. How much could all those years in undercover roles change a person?

Or could it be one of Giovanni’s competitors? Former associates, as he liked to say? Did one of them have an agent inside? I’d suspected Johann was exactly that yesterday, but if he was, and Giovanni’s men killed him for it, the estate wouldn’t be in this kind of uproar. They’d be cheering that they outed a traitor.

Henri hadn’t reacted the way a man with his background should. A man who’d been a chef all his life should have reacted… more like I initially had.

I had to get back down into the wine cellar and investigate this. Figure out the note. Look for more clues. I had to help.

Where was Antonio?

On my next circuit of the room, I heard him nearby. “Get out of my way.”

A voice responded, “I can’t let you—”

There was a sharp knock at my door, and I tore it open. It was Antonio, with a guard right beside him. Vincenzo was nowhere to be seen.

I flung my arms around him, biting on my tongue to produce some waterworks for the camera beyond them, in case anyone was watching.

He let out a low groan.

“Your arm,” I said, breaking off from him, looking down at the arm across his stomach I’d crushed against. “I’m sorry. I was just so—did you hear about—oh my god—about Johann?”

“Get what you need for tonight.” He jerked his chin toward my bathroom. “You’re staying with me.”

The guard behind him said, “I’m under strict—”

“The orders have changed. Talk to my uncle,” he snapped. “Go, bella.”

I nodded and hurried into my bathroom, grabbed a toothbrush, and returned to present it to him.

Antonio’s brows furrowed, I gave him a slight shrug, and he stepped back to usher me toward his room. “You can pack the rest tomorrow.”

The guard had moved to the far side of the floor. He spoke into a phone, flipping his free hand in a circle while he talked, appearing agitated.

“What’s going on?” I whispered as we made our way the few steps to Antonio’s room.

“Quiet, woman,” he said, more loudly than needed. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one playing to our audience.




Top Books !
More Top Books

Treanding Books !
More Treanding Books