“Maybe I can take you after the holidays are over,” Angelo said.
For a moment she let herself imagine that possibility. She and Angelo traipsing around the honey-hued streets of his ancestral city, exploring the beaches, lighting candles in the Cathedral and petting the sun-warmed cats that wandered the city.
“Kara?”
She shook herself. “Sorry, I was lost in thought. I don’t have a passport.”
“Oh, they take a couple of months to get but we can work on that.”
She didn’t tell him it would never happen. Instead, she let out a sigh.
“You sound tired. Why don’t you go to sleep?” he suggested.
She couldn’t stop the almost hysterical laugh that escaped her. “You keep worrying about me. You were the one who was stabbed.”
His chuckle was still a little rough, probably from the intubation tube during his surgery.
“I can’t help it. I don’t think of myself as much as I do of others.” It wasn’t a brag. She heard the note of frustration at himself, barely concealed in the weariness of the way he said it.
“How about we both get some sleep?” she suggested.
“Okay, you talked me into it.” He chuckled again, softer this time. “Good night, Kara,” Angelo said. “I’ll be here if you need to call me.”
“Thanks. Good night, Angelo.” But she didn’t really want to hang up.
The call ended, and she put the phone on the pillow next to hers, feeling like in some small, silly way that Angelo was there beside her. If she’d asked herself yesterday whether she’d be daydreaming about sleeping with a man, she would have called herself crazy.
But so much had changed in just a few hours. She was tied to Angelo now, tied to him by the blood he’d shed protecting her. That changed something inside of her forever. She just wasn’t sure if she could explain how.
Still restless, she fluffed her pillow and blew out a stiff breath, stirring the tendrils of red hair that had fallen over her eyes. She was too tired to sleep. It didn’t make sense, but itwas true. Maybe is if she read something it would help calm her mind, which at the moment was full of racing thoughts, good and bad.
Kara reached for one of the cookbooks on the table beside her. She really wasn’t into cooking—not much opportunity for it in her life—so she figured reading some recipes might put her to sleep.
The top book was full of classic recipes like meatloaf, baked chicken, basic pasta dishes, things she recognized easily. Sticky notes been placed on various pages with neatly written thoughts. She smiled a little as she read the note on meatloaf.
“Use oatmeal instead of Panko. Skip onions to avoid unwanted shift of texture. Use onion powder instead.”
After she’d read half a dozen recipes like this and all the notes that accompanied them, she sank down into the covers, the book still open on her lap.
She fell headlong into dreams where an Italian god with bronze skin took her by the hand and led her into the moonlit waters of Ortigia. The man’s hands slid down the length of her naked body in the water, his palms were hot on her skin compared to the cold water. She shivered as the man kissed a path from her mouth to her ear, whispering things in a language she didn’t know.
“Tesoro mio… don’t run from me… don’t runprincipessa…”
“I have to…” She gasped as the man in the beautiful dream and the beautiful bay vanished. She was now in a dark alley, being stalked by a masked man.
Run…she screamed at her body, but she could only move by inches as the masked man came closer, a knife glinting in his hand…
Angelo still hurt everywhere but he felt strangely happy. Talking to Kara had buoyed his spirits in a way he hadn’t realized he needed. Instead of feeling trapped and hurting alone in a hospital bed, he had thought his memories of Italy and his grandmother. Sharing those with Kara had brought back those sunny memories back, at least for a little while.
He needed to go back to Ortigia soon. It had been far too long.
He was just beginning to doze again when the door to his room opened and a police officer entered. The man’s eyes were a cool blue and his short brown hair was cropped short.
“Mr. Vertucci, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve got some questions about the incident now that you’re awake.” His tone was clipped and professional. He pulled out a small notepad and pen from his uniform pocket.
“Okay.” Angelo stopped himself from sitting up, remembering this time that it would hurt.
“I need you to tell me everything you can remember about last night, and the events leading up to and immediately after the attack.”
