No Place Like Rome Page 21

  There was no pope in evidence yet, but a small group of priests chatted in a corner of the room, looking relaxed. I guess they had a lot of experience at this kind of thing. We stood around, pretending to mingle, until Basia gasped. I turned to see a priest coming through the doorway pushing a wheelchair. Tito, dressed in his colorful Swiss Guard dress uniform and still connected to an IV drip, gave us a smile and a thumbs-up.

  We all rushed him at once, hugging, patting him on the back and talking so fast he couldn’t answer a single question. He laughed and held up his hands. I felt tears prick my eyes and saw that Basia was crying as well.

  He looked over at me. “Hey, Lexi, I hear you saved the day, yah?”

  “Not alone. It was so a group effort. You included.”

  “You’re going to have to give me the full version someday.”

  “That’s a deal and I’ll throw in a couple of plates of gnocchi to go with the story. How are you feeling?”

  “I’ll survive. I’ve got some rehabilitation ahead of me, but I should make a full recovery.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’m even happier because I really really wanted to see you in those pantaloons.”

  He smiled. “I told you hope was a godly pursuit. So, here I am. I’ll tell you a secret. They actually look better when I’m standing up.”

  “They look pretty good when you’re sitting down, too. By the way, I promise not to touch your shirt anymore.”

  “Yah? I meant to tell you I usually I have dinner with a girl before I let her pull off my shirt.”

  I blushed.

  “Dude.” Elvis gave him a high five and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.”

  Tito grinned. “It’s going to take a lot more than one of Nico’s old girlfriends to bring me down, yah?”

  “She wasn’t my girlfriend.”

  We turned around again. Slash stood in the doorway, leaning on crutches. He was dressed in a navy three-piece Italian suit with a sky blue tie. The right side of his head was shaved and still bandaged on one side, but he looked shockingly handsome. His right leg was in a thick cast up to his knee, but his sling had been removed. Beside him stood Nonna, dressed to the hilt in a fancy white blouse and flowered skirt. Her white hair had been done up in a bun and she even wore make-up. I sniffed the air and smelled her strong perfume as she marched right up to me. At first I thought she was going to hit me, but instead she threw her arms around me. She kissed me on both cheeks and gave me a hug benefitting a linebacker. Then she burst into tears.

  “Oh, jeez,” I said, squashed against her tiny frame.

  She pulled away and smashed my cheeks between her palms. She said a bunch of words in Italian and then kissed me again. I’m pretty sure I’d turned at least six shades of pink by the time she was through.

  Basia stepped up beside us. “She thanks you for saving Slash’s life. For saving all of us. For honoring Italy.”

  I was at a loss for words. “Ah, tell her the perfume saved us. It was the most fortuitous gift I’ve ever received. Oh, and tell her I work for food. Her food to be exact.”

  Basia translated. Nonna smiled through her tears and then held my hands. She said something else. Basia giggled and then coughed. Then giggled again.

  I glanced at Basia. “What? What did she say?”

  “She said you’re welcome to have Slash’s baby.”

  “What?”

  Basia lowered her voice. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”

  I glanced over my shoulder where the priests stood. “Jeez, Basia. Do we have to discuss this right now?”

  She patted Nonna on the shoulder and said something to her. The older woman returned to Slash’s side just as Uncle Bendetetto and a middle-aged couple were escorted through the door.

  I recognized the couple. “Hey, those are Serafina’s parents. I saw their picture on her desk.”

  Basia nodded. “Slash made sure they received an invitation. He called them personally and told them what happened to Serafina.”

  “That was nice of him.”

  Bendetetto waved at me and I waved back. Before he could approach me, one of the priests came over and hushed us. The pope was about to make an entrance.

  My nervousness returned and I sidled up to Elvis. I linked arms with him and held on. Like me, Elvis had a photographic memory. I just hope that unlike me, he’d been listening to the monsignor when he explained everything we were supposed to do in the presence of the pope. I’d do what he’d do and hopefully not make too much a fool of myself.

  The pope entered the room and I was struck by how normal he looked. Intellectually I knew he was just a man, but his persona was so larger-than-life that it seemed odd that he seemed so...regular.

  Everyone in the room starting applauding quietly. Elvis clapped, so I clapped, too. The pope spoke a few words to in accented English, thanking us for what we had done, recovering the stolen Vatican funds and returning the digital file of the painting stolen from the secret archives. Then the pope walked over to where Tito sat in the wheelchair. Tito bent his head and the pope said a few quiet words to him before offering Tito his ring. Tito kissed the ring and the pope squeezed his hand and made the sign of the cross over him.

  Elvis leaned close to my ear and whispered. “The ring is blessed. For Catholics, kissing it indicates a sign of respect and affection.”

  “Do I have to kiss it, too?” I whispered back.

  “No one has to kiss it. But most Catholics do.”

  “I’m not Catholic.”

  “Okay. You can shake his hand then. Weren’t you listening to the monsignor?”

  “Isn’t the answer to that already obvious?”

  Elvis rolled his eyes. “Just remember to genuflect, Catholic or not. Follow my cue.”

  “Got it.”

  The pope approached Slash next. Nonna immediately genuflected but as Slash was on crutches, he was only able to dip his head. To my astonishment, and apparently the others in the room by their collective gasp, the pope hugged him. Then the pontiff spoke in a low voice with his hand resting on Slash’s shoulder for at least a full minute before offering his ring. Slash kissed it and the pope made the sign of the cross over both him and Nonna.

  I held my breath as the pope straightened and searched the crowd. After a moment, his eyes fell on me. I held my breath and squeezed Elvis’s arm so tightly he grimaced. When the Pope got closer, Elvis bent to one knee. I realized he was genuflecting so I followed suit.

  The Pope stood directly in front of me. “Lexi Carmichael?”

  I liked the way he said my name. It sounded nice with his soft Spanish accent. But there was no way I was opening my mouth and sticking my foot in, so I just nodded.

  “It seems the Vatican owes you a big debt.”

  I shook my head.

  “We greatly appreciate your efforts on behalf of the Catholic church and the Holy Order, including risking your life to bring an end to the treachery and deceit of others. Good deeds do not go unnoticed.”

  I smiled brightly.

  After a long pause, Elvis nudged me in the side with his elbow. Oh, jeez. I think that meant I had to say something. I was probably defying protocol or causing a major affront by not speaking.

  I genuflected again, just in case. “Um, it was no problem, Your Excellency...”

  Elvis coughed. “Holy Father.”

  “...Holy Father. It was my sincere pleasure.” I stopped, considered my words and to whom I was speaking. “Well, truthfully, and I know it’s important to you that I am truthful, it wasn’t a pleasure because the situation itself wasn’t pleasurable. No, there’s nothing pleasurable about shooting people. So, I’d like to make it clear that I did not, in any way, find pleasure in shooting anyone. Thou shall not kill.
I got the memo on that one. Did you know I’ve actually read the Ten Commandments and other parts of the Bible, too?”

  Oh, jeez, I was babbling. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. The pope probably thought I was a complete moron. “Anyway, I’m glad I could help out. So...we’re good, right?”

  I winced and glanced over at Slash. He’d closed his eyes. Somehow, I didn’t take this as a good sign.

  The pope held out his hand to me and smiled. “We’re good.”

  Relieved, I shook his hand. Vigorously. When he let go, I saw he’d pressed a small silver crucifix into my palm. When I looked up, he made the sign of the cross over me and moved on to talk to the others in the room. After he’d met and spoke with everyone individually, he thanked us all for coming and was escorted out by the monsignor.

  I breathed an enormous sigh of relief at his departure and turned to Elvis. “Oh, jeez, tell me the truth. How awful was I?”

  “You were magnificent.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Your comments were genuine and heartfelt.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Jeez.” I opened my hand and examined the crucifix. “Did he give you one?”

  Elvis shook his head.

  “I wonder why he gave it to me?”

  “That’s a no-brainer. You’re special.”

  I glanced up. “I am?”

  “You are. And I’m not just saying that. It’s true.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, Elvis.”

  “Sure, anytime.”

  I took a minute to chat with Uncle Bendetetto, who gave me a bear hug and kissed me on both cheeks just as Nonna did. He told me I was a part of the family and to come visit him in Italy anytime. I also spoke to Serafina’s parents, telling them what a smart daughter they had and how sad I was for their loss.

  Eventually I made my way over to Slash. He chatted with everyone in the room, but sometimes I felt his eyes on me. When I looked over, he smiled a funny smile at me.

  I waited until no one else was with him and walked over to where he sat, his crutches propped up against the chair next to him. I sat down in an empty chair.

  Before he could speak I held up a hand. “I know, I know. You don’t have to tell me I made a fool of myself in front of the pope.”

  “Ah, contraire, cara. He will always remember you.”

  “Yeah, as the doofus who babbled about not killing people.”

  “No. As the woman who saved the Vatican eighteen million euros.”

  “Well, there is that.”

  “Si, there’s that, indeed.”

  I opened my palm. “He gave me this.”

  Slash took the crucifix from the palm of my hand. “He knows,” he murmured.

  “He knows what?”

  “That you’re special.”

  “That’s odd. Elvis just said the exact same thing.”

  Slash’s gaze fell upon Elvis, who was chatting with Tito. He sighed. “He knows, too.”

  Slash put the crucifix back in my palm and closed my fingers over it. But he didn’t take his hand away, just left it there holding mine.

  I studied the bandage on his head. “So, how are you feeling?”

  “Tired. Exhilarated. Ready to get this damn cast off my leg.”

  “Oh, a man of many moods...not to mention many names.” I shifted in my chair. “You do realize we almost died and I still don’t know your real name. Aren’t you ever going to tell me?”

  He regarded me thoughtfully and then released my hand, crooking his finger. “Come here, cara.”

  I leaned toward him.

  “Closer.”

  I slid to the edge of my chair, nearly lying on top of him. He pushed the hair back from my shoulder, put his mouth up to my ear and whispered something.

  I pulled back, searching his expression for a hint of mischief. “No freaking way.”

  “Way.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You wouldn’t lie to me in a house of God, would you?”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you ever.”

  I sat back in my chair, studied his face, and tapped my foot. “It totally fits. I can’t believe I didn’t guess it.”

  “No?”

  “No. Jeez.”

  Slash watched me in amusement.

  I lifted my hands. “Well, there it is. Just like that. Thrown down like a gauntlet between us. I can’t believe I finally know your real name. Can I call you that, you know, in front of other people? Or shall it remain secret for all of eternity?”

  Slash grinned. “I’ll make you a deal, cara. As long as you promise to call me, you can use whatever name you want. You won’t have to worry. I’ll come to you.”

  I grinned back at him, glad to be alive, glad to be his friend or whatever it was we were.

  He stuck out a hand so we could shake on it. I took it and his fingers curled warm and strong around mine.

  “So, do we have a deal?” he asked.

  I shook his hand. “We have a deal. That’s one promise I’m sure I can keep...Romeo.”

  * * * * *

  In need of more from Julie Moffett? Look no further than the Lexi Carmichael Mystery series, available now!

  No One Lives Twice

  I’m Lexi Carmichael, geek extraordinaire. I spend my days stopping computer hackers at the National Security Agency. My nights? Those I spend avoiding my mother and eating cereal for dinner. Even though I work for a top-secret agency, I’ve never been in an exciting car chase, sipped a stirred (not shaken) martini, or shot a poison dart from an umbrella.

  Until today, that is, when two gun-toting thugs popped up in my life and my best friend disappeared. Along the way, my path collides with a sexy government agent and a rich, handsome lawyer, both of whom seem to have the hots for me. Hacking, espionage, sexy spy-men—it’s a geek girl’s dream come true. If it weren’t for those gun-toting thugs...

  No One to Trust

  It may not be kosher to have the hots for your boss, but he seems to have the hots for me, too. If only things didn’t get so complicated...

  Darren Greening, a genius researcher from Flow Technologies (our first client!) is missing, and his bosses think I’m involved. And they aren’t the only ones—the man who nearly snapped my neck in the parking garage thinks so, too.

  Now I’m caught in the middle of a complex and dangerous case. I’ll have to use all my geek skills and a little help from my friends to solve the mystery of Darren’s disappearance before Neck-Snapping-Man makes a return visit...

  No Money Down

  Me and the legendary Zimmerman twins—it’s a friendship made in geek heaven. And it all started back when I worked for the NSA...

  My best friend Basia dragged me to the beach for her idea of a vacation. All those annoying people, sand in embarrassing places—not exactly R & R for a girl who doesn’t like the sun, the ocean or bathing suits. I couldn’t wait to get back to work.

  But things started looking up when I ran into Elvis and Xavier Zimmerman. We discovered we had a lot in common: gaming, anchovies, hacking. After that, the vacation was perfect—until I accidentally broke some poor guy’s fingers...

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  About the Author

  Julie Moffett is a bestselling author and writes in the genres of historical romance, paranormal romance and mystery. She has won numerous awards, including the prestigious PRISM Award for Best Romantic Ti
me-Travel and Best of the Best Paranormal Book of 2002, and the 2012 EPIC Award for Best Action/Adventure Novel. She has also garnered several nominations for the Daphne du Maurier Award, the Holt Medallion and the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence.

  Julie is a military brat (Air Force) and has traveled extensively. Her more exciting exploits include attending high school in Okinawa, Japan; backpacking around Europe and Scandinavia for several months; a yearlong college graduate study in Warsaw, Poland; and a wonderful trip to Scotland and Ireland where she fell in love with castles, kilts and brogues. Julie has a B.A. in political science and Russian language from Colorado College, an M.A. in international affairs from The George Washington University in Washington, D.C., and is currently finishing her M.Ed. at Liberty University. She has worked as a proposal writer, journalist, teacher and researcher. Julie speaks Russian and Polish and has two sons.

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  ISBN-13: 9781426897498

  NO PLACE LIKE ROME

  Copyright © 2013 by Julie Moffett

  Edited by Alissa Davis

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.