“I know. I'm going to make sure of it."
I wanted to laugh to alleviate the sudden tension in the car, but somehow, I knew he was serious. He was saying something important to hear. So, I nodded. "Well, I can't wait to see the city with you."
He leaned forward and said something to the driver, and when he settled back, my eyes went wide. "You speak Italian?"
He nodded. "Yeah, a little. Enough to get around. But you're Interpol. Don't you?"
"Of course, but my French is better. I guess I learn something new about you every day."
He shrugged and then turned to look out the window. Then it dawned on me. "You learned Italian because of a girl."
When he turned back to me, his grin was sheepish. "Well, like I said, alcohol-fueled weekend. I ended up with an Italian girlfriend for six months."
"Of course, you did. And what happened to her?"
He laughed. "Well, she found out we didn't have much in common other than how much we enjoyed each other's bodies."
I lifted a brow. “She's Italian, so does she have a government ID?"
He took my hand and kissed it. "No, love. We're not going to run a background check on her then put her on Interpol's most wanted list, okay?"
My jaw formed an O. "I would do no such thing. That's beneath me. Honestly—"
The car gave a sudden swerve, and he set to catch me before I went careening to the other side. East wrapped an arm around my waist before the seat belt could do its proper job and slammed me back into my seat. Suddenly, his voice was sharp, and the amount of Italian that he knew was quite apparent. It was plenty. The words came out rapidly. When he sat back, my eyes were wide. "East, what the hell is going on?"
“No clue.”
I crossed my arms and lifted my brow.
He took a long deep breath and then released it. "Sorry. Force of habit. We are being followed. Pietro noticed it about three miles ago. He started taking the securest route to the city. So far, he only sees one car, but there could be more. He took that exit sharply to try and shake them."
I glanced surreptitiously behind us, knowing better than to glance back sharply in case they could see me, so I tucked my hair behind my ear and just casually turned my head to the side. “He’s right. We are being followed. Do we have a plan?"
He nodded. "Sorry, I'd planned for us to stay in a villa, but the hotel is probably a safer bet. Hold on, let me get Belinda to book us into the Four Seasons. Better security.”
"But who the fuck is following us?"
"It could be anyone. You want to play that game of who's trying to kill us today?"
Pietro made another sharp swerve and took an exit onto a two-lane roadway.
I glanced around. "We're going away from the city, aren't we?"
Pietro nodded. "Yes, ma’am." Though heavily accented, his English was perfect. "If I can draw them away here, we can lose them then get back on the main road."
I frowned. "Isn't it better to keep trying to lose them in the city? We could hop out somewhere. They might not even notice."
Pietro's gaze met mine. "Please, try to relax. I shall have you to safety soon."
East held my hand tight. "Just stay calm. Pietro will get us out of this."
I eyed Pietro. No experienced driver in this situation would have taken us this way. We were isolated, easy pickings out here.
I leaned close to him. "East, I don't think—"
He patted my knee. "I promise, it'll be fine."
Next thing I knew, we were careening into a small Italian village. There were some barns, and farther ahead, it looked like maybe there was some hint of town life or something. But this was a very rural area. "East, what are we—"
And then suddenly Pietro took a sharp left, racing toward a barn. Then he hit some buttons on the dash, and the barn doors opened and he zoomed inside. I braced one hand against the back of the seat and gripped East's thigh with the other one, as if I could dull the impact of the crash by holding on tight. Once we passed the barn doors that came down behind us, Pietro slammed on the brakes, pulling the main handbrake, spinning the car out and drifting all the way to the back of the barn just in time.
It was just like the movies. My hair flew about in slow motion while my heart did a rapid tick-a-tick-a-tick. And I wasn't breathing. There was no way to get any air. In the seconds between when I thought I was going to die and the moment the car stopped with a screech, I lifted my head to East, and he looked perfectly calm, pulled out a tablet, and tapped something. "What the fuck is going on, East?"
"I anticipated that there might be problems."
"Might be problems?" My voice rose several octaves.
He nodded. He was calm. Too calm. Why was he so calm?
"I don't even have a gun. All I have is my badge. How are we—"
Pietro stepped out of the car, opened East’s door, and then came around to my side to open my door for me. When I just blinked up at him owlishly, he stepped aside and then went over to the worktable by the far wall. There were actual tools in here. Hoes and pitchforks and shovels and things like that. But after Pietro pressed a panel of numbers, a whole section of the wall opened with guns stored behind it. Big, fuck-off guns.
Holy shit.
"What is going on?"
"Well, I didn't want to get caught unaware like at Grimwald Square, so I got us a special driver. He's former Italian special forces."
I turned and stared at Pietro, and he gave me a brief nod. "Ma’am?" He held out two small pistols. Shaking, I glowered at him. "I don't want the girl guns. Give me the Glock."
Pietro's brows popped. "Okay, she knows her weapons."
East just chuckled. "I'll take your girl gun. I can shoot with anything."
I glanced at my boyfriend, who was also a member of a secret society and a badass. It was like he and his friends were James Bond or something. "You know, one of these days we're going to sit down and have a very long conversation about just what the Elite does."
His smile was slow and sexy as he lowered his gun and handed me my magazine. "The Elite is an organization of men who are power brokers in essence. We also have specialized training in our individual areas of interest."
"And your areas of interest include handguns?"
He nodded. "If I hadn't had the Elite, I might have gone into Foreign Service or Intelligence Services or something."
I nodded. "We have to redo every conversation we've ever had. You know that, right?"
He nodded. "Yep, got it. In the meantime, let's take our positions. I have already contacted the police for help. And not to worry, Nyla, you won't get in trouble. I've been licensed for every single one of these weapons."
Pietro grinned. "Yes ma’am."
"Right." I nodded and then crouched down by the window. "What are we going to do?"
"We have some surprises, but hopefully it won't come to that. In the meantime, Pietro will take care of the car."
Pietro nodded and then went to another one of the cupboards, took some kind of spray solution out, and started spraying down the Mercedes. The blue looked like it was being stripped off or blasted off somehow. The outcome revealed a silvery green color, and my mouth hung open. "I thought I was badass, but you're clearly in a whole other league."