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“Then you must know that hurting me will not hurt Carlo’s… father… at all.”
The man ran his tongue around his lip; it was thick and pale pink, like a fat slug. She shuddered. “It is not just you, Jane Lang. I plan to take out everyone connected to Tony Parelli, until he is alone and afraid. Then I will finish him.”
“But… I’m not connected to him,” she whispered, her body almost paralysed by fear. He wanted to kill her. This man wanted to kill her, and he was squeezing her neck so tight that tiny little stars were dancing on her eyelids.
Elisabetta ran across the square, perspiration beading on her forehead as it occurred to her that she might be too late. That the madman who had been stalking Jane, and wanting to hurt her, might have finally decided to strike. He’d spent three years tormenting Carlo with the power he
had to hurt her, and now he’d made contact. He could surely only have one reason for speaking to Jane now.
It was the end-game.
The time had come.
And Elisabetta had no idea where Jane was.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice thick. All she could think of, in that moment, was Carlo. The guilt he would feel made Jane ache. The thought of his face, on learning of her death, made her strong. She could not leave him. Not like this. Not after their fight. Fear for Carlo strengthened her too.
For she had to warn him. This man had a vendetta against anyone connected with Tony Parelli, and if he killed Jane, Carlo would be next. She felt ill as she thought of pain befalling his body. She could not let that happen.
In the distance, something discordant lodged in Elisabetta’s field of vision. She back-tracked her visual scanning until she again saw what had registered as odd.
Blonde hair.
A woman’s body held stiffly.
A man, tall and muscular, with his arms lifted towards the woman’s face. She made a sound of shocked pain as she realised the man’s hands were wrapped around Jane’s throat.
“Jane,” she called, her instinct taking over as she began to sprint through the busy square. A group of school children began to cross in her path and she swore, increasing her speed to get past them. But they snaked in front of her, holding hands, and impenetrable human barrier standing between her and the woman she’d sworn to protect. “Jane!” She shouted again, but it was no good. The hour had struck, and the church bells were pealing out their beautiful, symphonic declaration of time. The crowds chattered more loudly, to counteract the noise, and Elisabetta knew Jane would never hear her.
What had Liz taught her? Jane had thought all those silly self-defence sessions were a bit of fun but now she realised that their weekly appointment might actually save her life.
She relaxed her body and mind and focussed on the moves she’d learned. In the end, it was surprisingly easy. She lifted a knee and jabbed it as hard as she could into his groin. He doubled over, releasing his grip on her neck. But she saw him reach inside his waistband, and the fear that he was going for a gun made her act. She poked him in the eye, so that he instinctively lifted a hand to cover his face, then she chopped the back of his neck. Liz had taught her how – a spot that could be hit to make someone pass out, so long as it was done just right. Jane had practiced on a pillow. Now, on the real thing, she was shocked and relieved to see it actually worked.
Elisabetta ran across the square just as the man fell to the footpath. Jane, a slim, shaking figure, stood over him. She looked around, uncertain what to do next, and Elisabetta sprinted her hardest to close the last few metres.
“Liz?” Jane laughed, emotions were making her feel almost manic. “I did it! Did you see?” In that moment, it didn’t occur to Jane to wonder why Liz was there, in Rome.
Liz nodded. “Step back, Jane. Wait for me over there.”
Jane looked grimly down at the man on the floor. Liz straddled his back and held his hands behind him. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a cable tie, and secured his wrists. Then, she slipped a phone out and spoke in rapid-fire Italian.
“Liz?” Jane was frowning. She pushed her sunglasses up on top of her blonde head. The surreal minutes she’d just got through started to filter through her mind. And none of it made sense. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I think I am better to explain that,” Carlo said quietly, from behind Jane’s shoulder. His lungs were burning from the sprint he’d done across the crowded square. He’d moved almost as fast as light, to get to her.
He wanted, more than anything, to touch her. To pull her into his arms and hold her tight. To reassure her and calm her.
But she didn’t need that.
He looked at his ex-wife, and saw, for the first time, that she was not the young, vulnerable, helpless girl he’d thought her to be. Jane Lang had a core of iron, and he’d seriously underestimated that during their marriage.
CHAPTER NINE
“He was going to kidnap me,” Jane said stonily, shock seeping in now. “He was… he was going to kill me.”
Carlo’s lips were a grim, straight line across his stubbled jaw. Local police arrived and began to speak to Liz. Carlo touched a hand to Jane’s shoulder, briefly. “Wait here.” He stepped towards the police, instantly recognisable as one of Italy’s most well-known business personalities. Jane watched from the sidelines, as though it was happening to someone else entirely.
“What’s going on?” Jane asked, numb all over, when Carlo strode back to her a moment later.
