Home > Fire Maidens : Venice (Billionaires & Bodyguards Book 7)(8)

Fire Maidens : Venice (Billionaires & Bodyguards Book 7)(8)
Author: Anna Lowe

Tony wrestled with the unfamiliar emotions that crowded into his heart, making his chest too tight. But Fiorina, the poor girl, seemed so helpless that he tilted his head, signaling to Cara.

Don’t worry about me. Stay with her.

Cara bit her lip then finally boarded. The moment she did, the motorboat sped off, dragging a corner of Tony’s heart with it like a line the crew had forgotten to cast off.

“Man, I can’t believe you’re back in Venice,” one of the guards muttered to him.

Another shook his head. “They’re going to lock you up for life — or worse.”

Tony ignored them. For the first time in ages, he felt like he was in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. Which made no sense, but hell. His family had taught him to follow his heart, while the Foreign Legion had taught him to go with the flow. Both were pointing him in the same direction — the way Cara had gone.

So, he waited, studying the stars until another boat roared up. Not the polished cruiser that had whisked away Don Ercole and the other VIPs, but a workaday runabout where everyone crowded together in an open cargo space. Still, when it took off, it went in the right direction — the way Cara had gone. Meanwhile, Matteo and the other prisoners were loaded on to a third boat and taken in a different direction.

We’re getting special treatment, his lion noted.

Still, Tony had to wonder. Was that a bad or a good thing?

Due to the strict speed limit on the Grand Canal — one of the few obeyed in Italy — the trip took a torturously long time. Tony studied the stars and the buildings they passed. It was close to midnight, but Carnevale action was still in full swing. Music burst out of bars, and partygoers filled the side streets.

Finally, the boat cruised under the Rialto Bridge, throttled down, and bumped to a stop at a dock with red-and-gold painted posts and a gold-edged flag of Venice, featuring the winged lion.

Tony sucked in a long breath, taking it in. Palazzo Rigoni. It wasn’t often that a guy like him entered the headquarters of Venice’s Guardians — the shifter elite who controlled the city much like the Doges had, centuries earlier. But there he was, for the second time in his life. Would this visit be better than the first?

The palace’s facade and interior hinted at a glorious past, but the effect was spoiled by water swirling over the marbled floor. Like much of Venice, the building was gradually sinking, due to corroding foundations and rising sea levels. La Serenissima was a beauty, but the city was singing its last song.

“That way.” A guard shoved Tony along an elevated walkway made of narrow planks.

Tony stomped down hard, making the plank vibrate. That resulted in a gratifying curse and splash as one of the guards toppled into the shin-deep water.

The others laughed, but everyone sobered upon reaching a brilliantly lit lobby. There, the guards escorted Tony up a grand staircase with grim expressions that said, If you’re not worried yet, you should be.

Yes, he ought to be. But his steps were quick and hopeful, because Cara wasn’t far now.

My mate, his lion rumbled. My destined mate.

He gulped but didn’t stop to think it over. He didn’t have to. The stars had crystallized the thought in his mind.

As for why, and why now… Well, maybe fate was finally smiling on him. Maybe this was a new mission — something he’d been desperately seeking since leaving the military.

Which meant he was more hopeful than anxious — enough that he nearly forgot he was being hauled in to face charges he’d been evading for the past decade.

A clock bonged ominously at the top of the stairs, reminding him how dire the situation was.

Tony strode past it and into a grand meeting hall. A dozen heads turned, most of them scowling as if he were the scum of the universe. But Cara flashed a bright smile, making his blood warm.

“Bring him in,” Don Ercole ordered as if Tony hadn’t just sauntered in of his own accord.

Tony sighed, trying to remember one thing. As arrogant as the Guardians were, their goals matched his — peace and prosperity for all residents of Venice, human and shifter alike.

Well, most of the Guardians want that, his lion grumbled.

That was the problem. Who could he trust?

He looked around, identifying familiar faces. Some hadn’t changed, while others had aged dramatically. Whether that was the result of hard work or hard partying varied. The grumpy-looking elders with expressions that said, I can’t believe I was dragged out of bed for this were the ones who toiled hard, tackling Venice’s many challenges. Others were rosy-cheeked and clad in costumes. If they were grumpy, it was because they’d been dragged away from yet another raging party.

Most of the Guardians were lions, the shifter species who had founded Venice centuries earlier, but there were also a handful of wolves and two sleepy old dragons.

“What is this all about?” one of the women in the room snipped.

Tony looked over. The older woman was vaguely familiar, though he wasn’t sure why. The bossy, bitchy kind most people steered clear of.

“Donna Ismerelda, we finally have him.” Don Ercole pointed at Tony, who made a mental note of the name.

Ismerelda. Definitely someone to steer clear of, he decided. Not that he had a choice.

Don Ercole turned to the rest of those gathered. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the cowardly murderer who took the life of one of our own — a Guardian, no less.”

Tony growled under his breath. Cowardly?

Accused murderer, he was about to correct Don Ercole, but someone spoke first.

“There must be some mistake. He stopped the intruders who were after Fiorina.”

It was Cara, speaking up on his behalf when no one else would. Not the men he’d grown up with, not the older women who’d known him since he was a baby, and not the older lions familiar with his family’s reputation. Just Cara, a near stranger.

“You stopped the intruders who were after Fiorina.” He pointed out.

“We both did.” Cara’s eyes sparkled.

For a moment, it felt like they were the only two in that vast room, filled with wonder and mutual admiration. Then Ismerelda sneered at Cara, breaking into that magic spell.

“And who are you?”

Every syllable was like a hornet sent to sting, and together, they formed a buzzing horde that would have chased most people out of the room.

But Cara held her ground. “Cara Alari.”

Ismerelda made a face that said, That still doesn’t tell me who you are.

Luckily, an older woman — dear old Donna Luisa, a friend of Tony’s grandmother — spoke next. “Miss Alari is a guest of our friend and fellow Guardian, Grazia Pittoni.”

Every brow in the room furrowed as if to say, Well, that explains a few things.

Even Tony knew Grazia Pittoni — by reputation, at least. She was the lion shifter equivalent of Peggy Guggenheim — a dazzlingly rich, eccentric heiress who indulged in her many passions. Literally. Word had it, Grazia Pittoni had taken in — and thrown out — countless lovers in a series of tempestuous relationships that had scandalized Venice in her day. Her passion for art was just as legendary. More recently, she’d funneled her hurricane-force energy into environmental issues plaguing the city.

Grazia was unpredictable. Flamboyant. Larger than life. The kind of woman who enjoyed shaking things up.

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