The Mercenary (16 page)

feeling the warmth of his mouth on hers. When he eventually stopped they were both breathing hard.

Marc took her hand as they moved back into the crowd.

They paused to watch an old woman with arthritic fingers make lace as delicate and intricate as a

cobweb. If she hadn’t been beside herself with worry over her brother, Tory would have loved to linger

to buy some of the fine work, but Marc drew her away.

They had strolled several yards before Marc told her to wait, and he moved back through the crowd.

Moments later he returned with a whisper-fine lace scarf, bought from the old woman.

Tory’s eyes lit up as she took the creamy fabric from his hand. “Oh, Marc. Thank you.

It’s absolutely

beautiful.”

“Drape it over your arm,” he said tightly. “It’ll help hide the cast.” Hiding her hurt, Tory draped the lace over her right arm, hugging it against her body.

What had she

expected, for heaven’s sake? That he’d bought her a present as a token of his esteem?

She had to

concentrate on what she was here for—to rescue her brother.

Alex, where are you?she thought desperately, again following closely behind Marc as he pushed through

the crowd.

Silence was her only answer. She’dknow if Alex was dead, she would have felt it. She was sure she

would. Still, Tory knew they had to get to him soon.

Marc bought her a huge piece of coconut from a vendor and she ate it while they strolled away from the

piazza and down one of the myriad side streets. Here the houses cast the narrow streets in deep shadow,

making it marginally cooler. Tory finished the coconut and Marc waited as she went to a wall fountain to

wash her hands.

He noticed how rigid her back was and cursed himself. He hadn’t been able to resist buying that scrap

of lace. Her eyes had shone for a moment when he’d given it to her. This was an op, not a vacation. The

life of one of T-FLAC’s best agents was hanging by a thread. If they didn’t find Lynx soon, it might be

too late.

Tory wiped her hand on her leggings and started walking toward him. She stopped in midstride, her

head jerking up, the color draining from her face.

He took a step in her direction, then halted without touching her. “What is it?” Her eyes were glazed as

she stared blankly over his head. He was about to shake her when he realized what was happening.

She’d found her brother.

She stood frozen in place. He was afraid to touch her lest he break the communication.

Marc swiftly scanned the narrow alley. Water splashed into the verdigris basin beside him, misting his

arm with cool water. The noise of the hundreds of people crowding the piazza a few blocks away was

muted, the street shadowy. Thank God there was no one in sight.

He ached to hold her, but his hands clenched into tight fists as she swayed slightly. He was in big trouble.

She was a major distraction at a time when he could least afford any mistakes.

Tory was a civilian. He’d had no intention of getting within ten feet of Victoria Jones.

Unfortunately he’d

miscalculated badly. If it had been pure lust, he could have dealt with it. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the

case.

Victoria brought out a tender side of him he’d never known. There was something about her that got

under his skin; something that tugged at that secret place he’d buried and forgotten long ago.

He leaned back against the rough wall, keeping his eyes moving constantly to make sure she was safe.

She was vulnerable, especially now with all her energies fixated on communicating with Alex.

He wished to God she’d snap out of her trance so he could get her safely back to the grotto. The angle

of the sun reminded him that considerable, precious time had passed as they’d wandered through the

market.

He reached out a steadying hand when he saw her jolt, as if waking from hypnosis.

“Are you all right?”

She blindly gripped his fingers, and Marc pulled her against him, encircling her with his arms. Holding

him just as tightly, she pressed her face against his shirt. He could feel the warmth of her tears soaking his

shirt; but she cried silently, her body barely moving.

Tilting her face up with his finger, he scanned her still-pale skin. “You don’t have time to fall apart. Do

you hear me, Victoria? No time, princess.” He hardened his heart as she looked up at him with eyes

awash with fresh tears. “Give me the where and what, and you’re on your way back to camp.” She

swallowed several times, dashing her fingertips across her cheek. “He’s being held at the Palazzo

Visconti.” She stepped away from him to dip her hand into the fountain and splashed water on her face.

“Only one man is guarding him now. But there are more than twenty upstairs in the palace.” Her voice

was flat and devoid of any emotion.

Marc’s eyes narrowed. “Upstairs? Don’t tell me—”

“I thought Alex said ‘dungeon’—” Tory looked up at him. “Surely I must have misunderstood.”

“’Fraid not, princess.” Marc was grim. “The Palazzo was built in the early 1400s, complete with a moat

and dungeons.” He frowned. “Did you get anything else?” Tory ran the random, fragmented dialogue through her mind to get it straight. “He says there is a secret

door into the palace from the park—but there are motion detectors on all the other entrances. The public

isn’t allowed to visit the royal suites, and that’s where Spider is.” Tory grimaced. “I’m not even going to

ask. Alex says he has a couple of broken ribs and the perfect nose you always ragged him about will

never be the same. They change the guards irregularly, they do a lot of drinking after ten, and seem to be

pretty lax.”

She chewed her lip. “Marc, Alex said to tell you to be especially careful. Someone inside wants you

badly enough to have set this whole thing up. Alex said they’re waiting for you but…but you have no

face. Does that make any sense?”

“It’s what I was expecting,” he replied, his tone grim. “Did Lynx tell you anything else?”

“He believes the bird can still fly.” She frowned as Marc urged her back the way they had come,

bending to pick up the scrap of lace that had slipped from her arm. “What ‘bird’? A helicopter?”

“Yeah.” Marc grinned. “The Hughes 500 chopper that Lynx flew in. We thought we’d lost it. The

Huey…Damn, that’s great! At least we have one piece of good news. It sure beats waiting around for

Angelo. With the helicopter in commission we can fly out.”

“Where are we going now?” Tory adjusted the lacy fabric over her cast and walked faster to keep up

with his long strides.

She tried to read his expression, but his face was suddenly shuttered as he lost the smile and his jaw

tightened. “I’ll take you back to the truck. Your part in this is over.”

“Oh, but…”

Marc turned and pinned her in place with a fierce look. “You go back to the grotto, no ifs, ands or buts

about it. Got that?” His mouth was hard. She nodded. “Don’t try and play the hero, Tory.

There’s no

need. I’ll get your brother out. By this time tomorrow, Marezzo will just be a memory.” She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp. “You’re hurting me.”

“Not as much as those sons of bitches will if they catch up with you again.” He dropped his hand from

her arm, surprising her as he flung his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side. “Keep close,

keep your mouth shut and walk.”

She didn’t have much choice. The square was still crowded and noisy, and the press of people and

Marc’s arm kept them as close together as conjoined twins. “I hate to bring this up, but I’m starving.”

“I gave you coconut.”

“I want real food.” Tory glanced up at him as they had to pause to let one of the vendors, pulling a cart

piled high with produce, go by.

As soon as their path was clear, Marc stopped and bought her a square of pizza. He waited while the

vendor rolled it in paper and handed it to her.

“Are you sure you can find your way back?”

Victoria’s mouth watered at the savory aroma of garlic and tomato. “Yes, I can find my way back.” She

saw the way he scanned each face in the crowd. “In fact, I can even find my way back to the truck on

my own. Go ahead.” She could feel his impatience as he tightened his hand around her waist. “It’s not

helping Alex if you have to waste time leading me about when I’m perfectly capable on my own.”

They’d come to the wide gate and Tory turned to look up at him. “The truck’s right over there, I’ll be

fine. ”

For a moment he looked as if he was going to say something, but Tory put her fingers against his lips.

“I’m a big girl. Go. Be careful,” she said softly, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his unsmiling mouth. Before

he could respond, she turned and walked away.

She could feel his eyes boring into her back and knew the moment when he turned and walked behind

the high walls of the city.

It was so hot, and her heart pounded as Tory hurried toward the battered vehicle. Marc would get Alex

out. She knew that.

It wasn’t until she eased between the ancient pickup and the wine truck that she saw the man. He was

leaning against the passenger door of the wine truck, and she’d have to squeeze past him to open the

driver’s side door of the truck.

He was about her height but wiry, with bulging muscles and brown eyes that surveyed her up and down.

Tory shivered despite the heat. He looked like trouble.

For an instant she considered going back around her vehicle and climbing in through the passenger door.

The man took a drag on his cigarette and flicked it into the dirt at his feet. Smoke spiraled from his nose

and his eyes narrowed as she paused indecisively.

Tory glanced over her shoulder as she heard the whisper of footsteps in the sand behind her. Another

man stood there, barring her retreat.

She recognized the second man and a shudder rippled through her body. Giorgio had been one of the

two men who had held her in Pescarna. The hot metal of the truck pressed into her shoulder blades. The

man who had tossed down his cigarette moved toward her, and Giorgio effectively blocked her way

from behind. The pizza she’d been holding dropped to the ground unnoticed. Tory glanced from one to

the other. She desperately forced the air in and out of her lungs.

Think Victoria. Don’t panic.

“Buon giorno,Signorina Jones.” Giorgio moved between the trucks until he was just an arm’s length

away from her. “You have met Mario. Yes?” Tory recoiled from the smell of garlic on his breath and the

stink of old sweat that permeated the still-hot air.

Of the two, Giorgio was a known quantity and therefore the most dangerous. She shot a glance at the

other man, hoping she could evoke some sense of chivalry. She’d never seen such cold brown eyes.

Okay, no help there.

She was trapped between the two vehicles and effectively cornered by her two assailants. For a moment

she considered hurling herself into the bed of the truck. The sides were just too high and Giorgio and

Mario were closing in.

Could she attack them if they came any closer? With what? She wished she had one of Marc’s

nasty-looking guns. A knife would have been good. She didn’t even have a toothpick, for God’s sake.

If only…

Her arm thumped against the wheel well. Wait a moment, she did have a weapon—of sorts. The heavy

plaster cast.

The man on her left grinned showing large yellow teeth. “You come back for Giorgio, yes?”

Tory frantically glanced back and forth between the two men. The market was still crowded with

people. Surely if she stalled these two long enough, someone would come out and help her.

Her shoulders ached from pressing against the truck. Her braid, still hooked under her shirt in back,

made a lump that chafed at her skin. She could feel the sweat running down her sides and trickling down

her face. The salt stung her eyes, but she was too terrified to blink.

“You come with Giorgio now.”

Victoria shook her head. “No, thank you, I have to go. I’m meeting a friend and he’ll be worried about

me.” She hated the way her voice shook. Still no one was coming to her aid. Somehow she was going to

have to extricate herself from these men and get away.

With surprisingly steady legs she moved toward Mario. “It was interesting meeting you, but I really have

to go now.” Tory came abreast of him. She gave him a weak smile, her heart pumping as she moved past

him, managing to grab the door handle.

Lord, I did it.

Yanking the handle down she pulled at the door. It stuck and she pulled harder. As the door flew open,

she felt a hand grab her hair. Her scalp stung as Giorgio gripped the hair at the nape of her neck, his

fingers tight, painfully snagging the loose hairs. Her eyes stung and the baseball cap fell unheeded to the

ground.

“Signorina will come now.” He pulled at the braid until it was free of her shirt, twisting it around his beefy

wrist, jerking it so her head was tilted back painfully. Terror blurred her vision as Tory struggled against

his grip.

“Andiamo!”Garlic breath seared her face as he spat the command. She had no idea what he’d said, but

he was pulling her inexorably toward the back of the truck.

Tory kicked him; he merely laughed, calling to Mario in Italian as he dragged her backward. She

managed to roll her head, sinking her teeth into Giorgio’s wrist.

Snarling an oath, Giorgio tightened his grip on her hair. Tory didn’t feel the pain. Her jaw ached as she