Apparently not. But that was Venice — a city accustomed to covering up dirty secrets with a glamorous veneer.
He paced to the next doorway, still studying the countess and her entourage. Everything about her rankled his working-class sensibilities, but the sense of foreboding that had drawn him to Venice didn’t intensify. So, he moved on, telling himself he would complete his surveillance of the ball, then check on the countess again.
Check on Zorra, you mean, his lion corrected.
Ignoring the beast, he continued down the hall.
Good plan, his lion decided. The sooner we’re sure this place is secure, we can find Zorra again.
Tony forced himself to move on, but it was impossible to shake the feeling that destiny was calling him back. Every step he took was like wading against a powerful current intent on washing him backward. But back where — to the intriguing lioness or that viper of a dragon on the deck outside?
He pushed on, checking the next few rooms. Each was packed with revelers sipping drinks and comparing costumes. Most were loud and gregarious, but none was overly suspicious.
He paused outside the next parlor. It was a music room with instruments crowding the walls and shelves. But no one present paid them any heed. They were entirely focused on a young woman in the middle of the room. She was barely more than a girl, really, at eighteen or nineteen. Her manners and jewelry spoke of old money. Even her hair was fashioned into a crown. She flashed an uncertain smile, working hard to be polite. Still, she seemed more interested in the magnificent glass chandelier and artwork on the walls than the people around her.
Pietro. Luigi, Tony’s lion murmured, recognizing the two burly men standing not-so-subtly to one side. Bodyguards. Not very attentive ones, though. Their eyes kept drifting to a couple of heavily made-up women who had danced into the room.
Once upon a time, Tony had kicked a soccer ball around the city’s piazzas with those two. Now, Pietro and Luigi had respectable work as bodyguards, and he was a wanted man.
He sighed and readjusted his mask. It was what it was. At least he got to visit Venice one more time.
One last time? his lion asked mournfully.
Tony did his best to push the thought away. Instead, he found a new angle and studied the girl in the center of the room. Who was she? Why the bodyguards? And why did she look so lonely, so out of place? So…so…
Familiar, his lion murmured, sniffing the air.
Then again, everyone seemed familiar in one way or another. Probably his mind was trying to create connections in all the memories stirred up by being back home.
Home, his lion sighed.
And just like that, an image of the first woman flitted through his mind.
Zorra. His lion chuckled.
He was so adrift in the memory that he barely registered someone brushing past. Then a second person did the same, and his inner lion growled, snapping him out of his reverie.
He tensed, suddenly alert. Every guest at the ball flitted between rooms merrily, seeing and being seen. Everyone but him — and those two men. Their steps were silent and purposeful, and they swiveled their heads, checking every room. Their costumes were as minimal as his, and their scents…
Wolves, his lion snarled.
The hair on the back of his neck stood. He had no problem with wolves, but something about those two screamed trouble.
The two shifters halted in their tracks, then turned. Tony sidestepped into the music room.
“Prosecco, sir?” a waiter asked.
Tony took a glass and retreated to a corner, where a tall, decorative silk screen provided some cover. From there, he watched as the two men stepped into the room, split up, and zeroed in on the girl. She was the very picture of naïveté and innocence. What did those two men want with her? And dammit, why were Pietro and Luigi so slow to react?
Probably because two buxom beauties had sidled up to them and turned on their feminine charms.
Tony nearly called into his friends’ minds, as most shifters could. But if he did, they would recognize him, and all hell would break loose.
The thing was, he had a sinking feeling all hell was about to break loose anyway. Something was up with those two men — and their target was the girl.
The countess’s shrill laugh drifted in from outside, and the two men exchanged curt nods. Was that some kind of signal or sheer coincidence? Tony coiled every muscle in his body, ready to intervene if necessary.
But then the girl spotted someone passing by the doorway. “Cara?” Her voice rose, and she squeaked in glee. “Cara!”
The two men who’d been closing in on the girl dropped back, and everyone in the room looked up. Even Pietro and Luigi, thank goodness.
“Fiorina?” another woman cried, then rushed in. It was her — Zorra, the woman who’d so captivated him before.
Cara, his lion hummed. Her name is Cara.
His blood rushed, and his soul sang.
The two women hugged in a flurry of greetings.
“What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?”
Both of you, get out of here, Tony wanted to say. Especially now that the suspicious men appeared to be closing in again.
“I had no idea you were in Venice. How long have you been here?” the older of the two women asked. Zorra — er, Cara — was about his age, while Fiorina was a decade younger at about eighteen.
“Only about a week. Oh my goodness! My mother will be so happy to see you.”
They went on in that vein for a while, voices rising and falling with every quick syllable. They both spoke the local dialect, but Cara’s Italian, while close to perfect, carried a hint of a foreign accent.
Tony coughed into Pietro’s and Luigi’s minds, trying to catch their attention. But the flirty women who distracted them were pros — literally, he suspected — and nothing worked.
Then shouts broke out from another room, and everyone froze. Even Pietro and Luigi snapped to attention. After exchanging uneasy glances, Luigi remained in the room, while Pietro stepped out to investigate.
No! Tony wanted to shout. The scene had all the makings of an ambush. His suspicions were confirmed when the flirty woman who’d focused on Pietro made a beeline for Luigi and joined her friend, blocking his way to Fiorina should she need help.
And…shit. With every passing minute, Tony was more sure the girl would need it.
“Help!” someone screamed.
Most of the guests in the parlor rushed out to see what was going on. Luigi ran past them, disappearing from sight. And at that very moment, the low hum of a boat engine sounded outside, approaching steadily, then throttling down to drift past the window.
No. It’s drifting into position outside the window, Tony’s lion warned.
He could tell by the pattern of waves slapping quietly against the outer wall. But no one seemed to notice except the mercenary types, who nodded to a third man at the door. The moment Zorra looked up and noticed them, she tensed.
Smart woman, Tony couldn’t help thinking. She knows trouble when she sees it.
More importantly, she took action, guiding Fiorina toward the piano in the far corner.
“Oh, shall we play?” Fiorina asked, ignorant of encroaching danger.
Tony flexed his fingers, ready to reveal his claws. But, damn. Showing his shifter side was absolutely, positively taboo.
Luigi! he yelled into the bodyguard’s mind.
But the man was somewhere outside, and he couldn’t connect with his old friend.