In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(99)

“I . . . I’d love to see them.” Her loose sandal flapped loudly against the tiles. She contracted her toes to keep it pressed to her heel. Her stomach was roiling. “One moment. Let me just fix my shoe.”

She bent down, glad for the opportunity to pull free of his arm.

She rose up and . . . oh, wow. Head rush. A wave of cold, dark. Sweeping upward, washing over her head. She stumbled. Oh, no. No.

Svetlana? Svetlana, are you all right? Svet . . .



Hurt. It burned, a fire on the side of her head. The light blinded her when she tried to open her eyes, so she kept them shut as she struggled to figure out what the hell was going on, listening to the voices swirling in and out of focus. Italian. She couldn’t catch a word.

She fought to orient herself. “Where am I?” she croaked.

“With us, at the Villa Rosalba. You’re perfectly safe, and you’re going to be fine. Don’t be alarmed,” a male voice responded.

It all clicked into place moments after. That was Hazlett—but she had asked her question in Ukrainian. She forced her eyes open. They watered copiously. “You speak Ukrainian?” she asked in English.

He patted her hand. “One doesn’t conduct international business deals for decades without picking up a few things.”

She tried to sit up and fell back, wincing. “What happened?”

“You fainted.” Renato’s voice. “I’m not surprised. It was an intense morning for you, emotionally.”

That observation bugged her, obscurely. Her intense emotions were not on display for his entertainment.

The loose tile, the tree of life, The Sword of Cain all crashed back into her mind. She still had not the slightest desire to say anything to either of these two men about it, but she was bursting to tell Sam.

She missed him so badly. She put her hand to her head and found a gauze bandage around her forehead. “What’s this?”

“You hit your head on the bench when you fell,” Renato explained. “Dr. Argillo examined you and bandaged you up. It’s a small wound. Just a little blood to wash out of your hair.”

A short, middle-aged woman in a white coat leaned over Sveti, peering into her eyes. She shone a bright penlight into both of Sveti’s eyes and spoke in rapid, staccato Italian.

“She says you don’t have a concussion, but that you should be carefully observed for a while,” Hazlett translated. “Of course, we would be happy to observe you. What could be more pleasurable.”

Like hell. She wanted Sam. She wanted to soothe his ruffled feathers, tell him what she had seen. She struggled up into a sitting position. The doctor scolded, but she ignored it. A woman hurried in and spoke to Renato. Renato held up his hand for her to wait.

“It appears your fearsome protector has arrived,” he said. “From what Agata says, he seems very agitated. I’m not surprised.”

“So you did slip away.” Hazlett chuckled, smugly. “You sly minx.”

Thank God. Her rush of relief was so intense, tears filled her eyes.

Hazlett’s gaze narrowed. “I have to ask. Do you want us to let him in? Has he become problematic? We could distance you from him, if you want us to. Now would be the perfect opportunity. Just say the word.”

She almost laughed. Problematic, hah. He might be a problem, but he was, by God, her problem. “You have the wrong idea,” she said. “Please, let him in. I want to see him.”

“If you wish.” Renato looked disappointed. He spoke to the girl called Agata. She scurried off to do his bidding.

“Just remember,” Hazlett said, “if you change your mind, tell me.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine. Really.”

The door burst open and Sam strode through, a terrified-looking Agata hurrying in behind him, babbling shrilly in Italian.

“Sveti?” He looked at her, horrified. “What the f*ck?”

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” she assured him. “Don’t freak.”

“What happened?” He rounded on Hazlett, his gaze accusing.

“She fainted,” Renato said. “She hit her head.”

“She’ll be fine,” Hazlett added soothingly.

“Says who?” Sam spun around. “Has she been seen by a doctor?”

“Yes, I have, and you can speak to me, not over my head,” she said. “This lady is a doctor. She has examined me. Calm down.”

Sam started firing questions at the doctor in rapid Italian. Sveti was too exhausted to try to follow their conversation.

Sam turned to her after a moment. “You ready to go?”

“No,” Hazlett said. “She needs to stay under observation.”

“You are welcome to stay with her, if you must,” Renato said, with ill grace. “Please, do stay for lunch.”

“Thanks, but no.” He looked at Sveti. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll observe you like you’ve never been observed before. Can you walk?”

God, she hated to leave without looking under that tile, but no way would she get another moment alone. And she still didn’t want to share her discovery. “I’m fine,” she murmured. “We can go whenever.”

She got to her feet, tottering. Sam scooped her into his arms.