In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(115)

“Hey.” She gave him her brief, lovely smile. “You’re awake.”

“What day is it?” he croaked.

“It’s Tuesday. You’ve been out for more than a day. You had a bullet against your ribs, and you have stitches everywhere. You’re a hot mess.”

“Police?” he croaked.

“Of course. I talked to them for hours. I told them everything I know. The guy I shot was dead when they arrived on the scene.”

“Josef?”

“Disappeared,” she said. “No trace of him.”

Then someone needed to hover over her with a gun. “Where’s Simone?” he demanded.

“He’s here. I called him right away. I was sure you’d want that. He’s right outside your room.”

He sighed his relief. “Have you called Val and Tam and Nick?”

“Simone talked to Val. They’re all coming day after tomorrow. Your father and sister should be here, too, early tomorrow morning.”

He jerked like he’d been stuck with a pin. “Who? What?”

“I called him,” she said. “He was beside himself. He just texted me their arrival times.” She indicated her phone.

“Let me see that.” He took her phone, which had a new starburst shatter marring the screen. Sure enough, there was his father’s private number. An arrival time, an airport code. His dad’s usual stern synthesis. He let the phone thud onto the mattress.

“Sweet God,” he muttered. “Just kill me now.”

“They’ll just scold you,” she said gently. “They love you.”

“Never mind them. How about you? Are you good?”

She dropped a sweet little kiss on his hand. “I’m fine.”

He was horrified to feel the tears well into his eyes. He was still so f*cking scared. All stoved in and f*cked up, and if Josef or whatever other * wanted to hurt her walked in, he’d be helpless to stop him. “You have to go home, Sveti,” he said. “Now. You can’t stay here.”

Sveti’s gaze slid away. “Soon,” she soothed. “Not quite yet. I needed to talk to you about that. I couldn’t leave until I let you know—”

“Leave?” He jerked up and fell back with a hiss of pain, his ribs screaming. “Leave for where? With whom?”

“Calm down. I’m just going to the Villa Rosalba for the night. You know. To look under that tile. We talked about that.”

“Fuck, no!” He tried to jerk up again.

Sveti murmured in dismay and pressed him back down onto the pillows. “Sam, be calm! I’ll be fine!”

“Hold it right there,” he said, voice shaking. “Let’s touch back down into the realm of reality, just for one goddamn second, okay?”

Her mouth thinned. He knew he’d lost her, right then. She wouldn’t hear him talk. She’d do whatever she damn well pleased, just like always. “I see reality very clearly,” she said.

“Yeah? You’re aware that Josef is out there, pissed as hell about the thorns in his eye and his sudden change in career prospects,” he said. “And that he’s now convinced that you know where tens of millions of euros’ worth of dirty bomb materials are, or at least that you could figure it out, given the right incentive. You know firsthand that he is an expert at providing that kind of incentive. And you propose to wander off alone, maybe tour some Roman ruins? Go to a spa?”

“Do not trivialize what I am doing,” she said.

“Then don’t trivialize the danger! You need to stay with Simone! You need bodyguards on you, twenty-four/seven, until Tam and Val and Nick can take over! You cannot be alone! Ever!”

“I won’t be alone,” Sveti said.

“Excuse me?” He paused as realization sank in. “And just who exactly will be keeping you company, babe?”

She squeezed his hand. “Sam, it’s just for one night. And I—”

“Hazlett,” he cut in. “Hazlett’s going with you. Moving in on you while I’m out of commission. That’s great. That is just f*cking classic.”

She winced. “Oh, God, Sam. Please.”

He suddenly noticed her clothes, which were incongruously elegant, with her scrapes and bruises. The coral silk blouse, the loose linen pants, perfectly pressed. “Where did those clothes come from? The last time I saw you, you were covered in blood. I don’t remember that outfit. Where the f*ck did you get those clothes?”

Her face stiffened. She crossed her scratched, bruised arms over her chest. “Michael brought them to the hospital for me.”

“Michael, billionaire philanthropist and personal shopper?”

The chin went up. “I’m sure Nadine picked them out.”

“Aw. How sweet. And you’re going to spend the night with him now? Tell me you’re shitting me. Please, Sveti.”

“I’m not going to spend the night with him! I am going to look under that f*cking tile, because I can’t eat or sleep until I do!”

“So tell the cops! Let them look! I do not give a flying f*ck what secrets your mother hid there! All I know is, she died for them, Sveti, and Sasha did, too! You are not getting in line to be next!”

She gave him the regal empress look. “You heard what Sasha said, about the dirty bomb? The lab where innocent people were murdered? The grave where their bodies are hidden? And you don’t think it’s important enough to follow up?”