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The place was actually a palace compared to other places we’d slept.
For one thing, it had electricity – and a small portable heater that could be plugged into the wall to warm up a room. We stripped off our wet clothes, lay them over chairs, and pointed the heater at them.
For another, the cabin had hot running water. We took a luxurious shower together – and ended up having sex.
After five days of trudging through the cold and mud, the combination of sex and hot water at the same time was about the best thing imaginable.
Once we got out and dried off, we put on the second set of clothes I’d purchased in town. We would have gone naked, but the cabin was still cold – the tiny electric heater could only do so much.
Lucia’s new clothes were dry, at least. I only had a dry t-shirt and underwear, which rapidly became damp under my jeans. But it was still luxurious by the standards of what I had become used to over the last few days.
Lucia sighed in contentment as she put on her new, dry clothes.
“This is wonderful,” she sighed.
“It’s about to get more wonderful,” I said as I popped the cork on the bottle of champagne.
She screamed happily as the champagne foamed up and spilled out of the neck of the bottle.
I poured out two glasses – not champagne flutes, but regular drinking glasses – and we toasted each other.
“To my beautiful bride-to-be,” I said.
“To my wonderful husband-to-be,” she grinned.
We sipped the champagne, which was only slightly cool. The only chilling it had done was in my backpack on the walk here –
But it was the best wine I’d ever tasted.
We opened the tins of oysters and lobster and had ourselves a feast, followed by the tiramisu.
Life was absolutely beautiful.
Then it got even more beautiful. We started kissing and were about to head back to the bedroom –
When everything went to shit.
71
We were stumbling towards the bedroom, laughing and pulling at each other’s clothes –
When there was a distant crack and the crystalline sound of glass breaking.
I froze for a millisecond –
Then forced Lucia to the floor.
“Get down!” I whispered harshly.
She looked at me in terror as I dropped down beside her and pulled my Beretta from the back of my jeans. I’d learned my lesson since the barn and never went anywhere without a gun within reach.
I went down a mental checklist.
Like always, I’d barred the doors with pieces of furniture: a small table wedged against the back door and a heavy bureau against the front. It wouldn’t stop a determined person from getting in, but it would slow them down – and give me enough time to shoot them.
“Stay here,” I whispered to Lucia.
“Massimo – ”
