Marco not being in his room in the morning was not part of the plan. He
was usually up and ready to go long before Antonio, so when Marco wasn't
knocking on the door by the time that Antonio got out of the shower in the
morning, he was already wondering what was wrong. There was a connecting
door between their two hotel rooms, and Antonio knocked on it once. No
answer. What the hell was going on?
"Marco?" he called out, entering the room. It was perfectly quiet in there. He wasn't there. Downstairs, Antonio thought. He must have gone downstairs to get a paper. There was no way that he had left the hotel alone and possibly decided to pay a visit to a certain lady.
Antonio went to the phone and dialed Marco's cell. It rang several times and then flipped to the voice mail. He slammed down the phone with a curse, worry and anger knotting his stomach. If Marco had done anything to Jaqui, he was going to…going to…well; Marco was going to learn why you did not cross the Conte di LiCossa.
He raced down to the hotel garage, cursing again when he realized that Marco's car was gone. When they came to France, they had each gotten a car in order to make it easier to follow Jaqui and track her back to her base of operations. No wonder Marco had said yesterday that they should give back the car Antonio was using and stick with just the one since they knew where she was now. He must have been planning this from the beginning if Antonio should happen to fail. Marco had long been his mother's personal bodyguard. Obviously he had forgotten who the head of the family really was.
A loud squeal echoed throughout the garage as Antonio tore out of there, black streaks extending behind the car as the rubber was left on the concrete floor. Nobody seeing him could mistake the fury in his eyes as he drove towards Jaqui's. She better not be hurt. Scared was fine. He would be able to handle scared. But Marco had better of not hurt her. Antonio wasn't ready to analyze why he was feeling so protective over the woman that had obviously set up his family to lose a priceless heirloom. He just knew that if anything happened to her, he would not be able to deal with it well.
The overcast sky well matched Antonio's mood as he pulled up in front of Jaqui's. Grey and bleak. Marco's car was there. How long had he been there? What had he done to her? Antonio didn't care about the "no parking" sign as he slammed the brakes, sliding the car up against the sidewalk. He was out of the car almost before it stopped moving, and then froze suddenly, the elements of what he was seeing finally coming together.
Marco's car was in the garage. Jaqui's, and he knew it well from following her, was not in there. And Marco was sitting on four flats. Was it possible? No. He was a big man, and she was a woman. There was no way she could have gotten away easily enough to drive, and knife his tires before leaving. Was she not alone? That was a possibility. She had mentioned cousins yesterday. Maybe one lived with her? That seemed likely.
Antonio ran up the steps to her front door, pounding on it violently when he got there. No answer. Not that he really expected anything. Most people don't stop torturing someone to get the door. Antonio stood there for a moment and pressed his ear against the door. There was still silence inside. That was unusual. If you're going to torture someone in a private residence, then it was best to have music or something loud playing to cover their screams. Unless she was gagged. Still…
He glanced down, and his attention was diverted to the small object resting on the ground. He picked up the golf ball gingerly. It was clean. Antonio stood there numbly for a moment, recalling their conversation about sports. She didn't participate much. She only played golf. And that was only when she was in a bad mood. The four punctured tired. The golf ball. How the hell did that little thing get away from a man like Marco?
There was only one way he was going to find out, and that was to find her. She must have had someone with her there, and whoever it was, he was probably disposing of Marco right then. Antonio didn't think Jaqui was the killing type, or God knew, he would be dead already, but Marco was probably more seriously injured than after dealing with her clients. The clients. One had beaten the holy hell out of Marco during the theft. Maybe that's whom Jaqui was with. Could it be that she wanted to know if they would be interested in getting the necklace back? Putting them in jail, exposing the little ring, none of that mattered anymore. If she did feel bad and want to return it…well, forgive and forget was more than possible.
Antonio got back in his car and thought about where she might be. She went to play golf. She didn't say that she liked to go somewhere and just swing at the balls; she liked to play. She would have to be at a course then. Where? Public? No. That wasn't her style. She liked having her privacy. There was one place that wasn't too far away that was a rather upscale club. They had driven past it following Jaqui as a matter of fact. There was a slight problem though. Was she Jaqui to them, or whatever the JJC really stood for? He was going to find that out rather quickly, now wasn't he?
He threw the car into gear and then headed to where the club was. If she was mad, it stood to reason that she wouldn't want to go far to get the stress out. Of course, women and reasonableness were not always close companions. Still, it seemed like as good of a place as any.
There was a guard at the front gate. Of course there would be. He was worried about Jaqui and this man was going to delay him. Antonio sighed to himself. Well, he knew how to handle these types. The guard poked his head towards the window, not leaning out far enough to get wet in case a few drops should start falling.
"Are you on the guest list?" he asked.
"I doubt that you will find the Conte Antonio di LiCossa on some list," he replied coldly, "but if that is what you require, then call your club manager and fix it." People that worked in places like this had a knack for telling the real from the fake. The guard took one long look at him, the arrogance and that air of superiority all wrapped up in a silk suit that sure as hell wasn't off the rack, and leaned back in, grabbing the phone. Antonio heard a few clipped words, and then the guard was handing him a pass. Antonio graced him with a sneer, and then drove towards the clubhouse.
He drove to the front door, tossing his keys casually to the valet. A tall, thin woman was standing near the front door, and rushed down. "Monsieur," she said, blocking him. "I am Blanche Fouinon, the manager of the club. You are Conte di LiCossa?" Antonio knew what this was. She was going to give him a cute little question and answer session, and then she would know if he knew the right people and places to let him stay. Unfortunately, he didn't have the time for cuteness.
"Madame," he said quickly, "forgive my rudeness, but I am in a hurry. I am quite late, and I should not want to have the person I am meeting to be any more angry at me than possible." He paused for a moment. "Perhaps you can tell me where she is. Young woman, early twenties with dark curly hair." He took a leap. "An American. She lives in France though."
Blanche smiled. "Miss Cale? Of course I know her. She came through a bit ago heading to the golf course. You were to be meeting her for her tee off?"
Antonio took the second to give her a charming smile. Miss Cale was it? "I was," he said, trying to sound charmingly embarrassed. From the way her face was shining, it was working. "Which is why I am in such a hurry now. I must go and beg her forgiveness now and make my lady happy again."
"Of course," she replied, enjoying the sweet love story unfolding in front of her. "Henri can tell you which trail she decided to take. I believe there are a few golf carts left this morning."
Antonio took her hand and kissed it lightly. "I am forever indebted to you, Madame," he said, meaning it far more than she could understand.
It was quite possible that finding her was far too easy. Perhaps if finding her had been more difficult, then other things would have balanced out a bit better. Henri told him about which hole she should be at then, and was able to give him a cart. Of course, with Madame Fouinon's blessings on him, he would have gotten a club cart if that were all that was available. He drove down the lane, his eyes darting around to the golfers on the course. The first few drops of rain that had been threatening all morning were starting to fall, and he worried that she might go in before he found her. And then finally, there she was. Had he thought about it, it might have frightened him a little to know that he knew her by silhouette alone.
However, thinking was going to have to wait. She was ignoring the rain as she lined up her next shot. He pulled up as she took a swing, the club hitting the ball with a thump that was smothered by the snarled curse that she let fly with the ball. She glanced back at whoever was interrupting. Their eyes met. Time seemed to stop. Until of course, the first club of several came flying towards him in a hail of rain and cursing.
"Marco?" he called out, entering the room. It was perfectly quiet in there. He wasn't there. Downstairs, Antonio thought. He must have gone downstairs to get a paper. There was no way that he had left the hotel alone and possibly decided to pay a visit to a certain lady.
Antonio went to the phone and dialed Marco's cell. It rang several times and then flipped to the voice mail. He slammed down the phone with a curse, worry and anger knotting his stomach. If Marco had done anything to Jaqui, he was going to…going to…well; Marco was going to learn why you did not cross the Conte di LiCossa.
He raced down to the hotel garage, cursing again when he realized that Marco's car was gone. When they came to France, they had each gotten a car in order to make it easier to follow Jaqui and track her back to her base of operations. No wonder Marco had said yesterday that they should give back the car Antonio was using and stick with just the one since they knew where she was now. He must have been planning this from the beginning if Antonio should happen to fail. Marco had long been his mother's personal bodyguard. Obviously he had forgotten who the head of the family really was.
A loud squeal echoed throughout the garage as Antonio tore out of there, black streaks extending behind the car as the rubber was left on the concrete floor. Nobody seeing him could mistake the fury in his eyes as he drove towards Jaqui's. She better not be hurt. Scared was fine. He would be able to handle scared. But Marco had better of not hurt her. Antonio wasn't ready to analyze why he was feeling so protective over the woman that had obviously set up his family to lose a priceless heirloom. He just knew that if anything happened to her, he would not be able to deal with it well.
The overcast sky well matched Antonio's mood as he pulled up in front of Jaqui's. Grey and bleak. Marco's car was there. How long had he been there? What had he done to her? Antonio didn't care about the "no parking" sign as he slammed the brakes, sliding the car up against the sidewalk. He was out of the car almost before it stopped moving, and then froze suddenly, the elements of what he was seeing finally coming together.
Marco's car was in the garage. Jaqui's, and he knew it well from following her, was not in there. And Marco was sitting on four flats. Was it possible? No. He was a big man, and she was a woman. There was no way she could have gotten away easily enough to drive, and knife his tires before leaving. Was she not alone? That was a possibility. She had mentioned cousins yesterday. Maybe one lived with her? That seemed likely.
Antonio ran up the steps to her front door, pounding on it violently when he got there. No answer. Not that he really expected anything. Most people don't stop torturing someone to get the door. Antonio stood there for a moment and pressed his ear against the door. There was still silence inside. That was unusual. If you're going to torture someone in a private residence, then it was best to have music or something loud playing to cover their screams. Unless she was gagged. Still…
He glanced down, and his attention was diverted to the small object resting on the ground. He picked up the golf ball gingerly. It was clean. Antonio stood there numbly for a moment, recalling their conversation about sports. She didn't participate much. She only played golf. And that was only when she was in a bad mood. The four punctured tired. The golf ball. How the hell did that little thing get away from a man like Marco?
There was only one way he was going to find out, and that was to find her. She must have had someone with her there, and whoever it was, he was probably disposing of Marco right then. Antonio didn't think Jaqui was the killing type, or God knew, he would be dead already, but Marco was probably more seriously injured than after dealing with her clients. The clients. One had beaten the holy hell out of Marco during the theft. Maybe that's whom Jaqui was with. Could it be that she wanted to know if they would be interested in getting the necklace back? Putting them in jail, exposing the little ring, none of that mattered anymore. If she did feel bad and want to return it…well, forgive and forget was more than possible.
Antonio got back in his car and thought about where she might be. She went to play golf. She didn't say that she liked to go somewhere and just swing at the balls; she liked to play. She would have to be at a course then. Where? Public? No. That wasn't her style. She liked having her privacy. There was one place that wasn't too far away that was a rather upscale club. They had driven past it following Jaqui as a matter of fact. There was a slight problem though. Was she Jaqui to them, or whatever the JJC really stood for? He was going to find that out rather quickly, now wasn't he?
He threw the car into gear and then headed to where the club was. If she was mad, it stood to reason that she wouldn't want to go far to get the stress out. Of course, women and reasonableness were not always close companions. Still, it seemed like as good of a place as any.
There was a guard at the front gate. Of course there would be. He was worried about Jaqui and this man was going to delay him. Antonio sighed to himself. Well, he knew how to handle these types. The guard poked his head towards the window, not leaning out far enough to get wet in case a few drops should start falling.
"Are you on the guest list?" he asked.
"I doubt that you will find the Conte Antonio di LiCossa on some list," he replied coldly, "but if that is what you require, then call your club manager and fix it." People that worked in places like this had a knack for telling the real from the fake. The guard took one long look at him, the arrogance and that air of superiority all wrapped up in a silk suit that sure as hell wasn't off the rack, and leaned back in, grabbing the phone. Antonio heard a few clipped words, and then the guard was handing him a pass. Antonio graced him with a sneer, and then drove towards the clubhouse.
He drove to the front door, tossing his keys casually to the valet. A tall, thin woman was standing near the front door, and rushed down. "Monsieur," she said, blocking him. "I am Blanche Fouinon, the manager of the club. You are Conte di LiCossa?" Antonio knew what this was. She was going to give him a cute little question and answer session, and then she would know if he knew the right people and places to let him stay. Unfortunately, he didn't have the time for cuteness.
"Madame," he said quickly, "forgive my rudeness, but I am in a hurry. I am quite late, and I should not want to have the person I am meeting to be any more angry at me than possible." He paused for a moment. "Perhaps you can tell me where she is. Young woman, early twenties with dark curly hair." He took a leap. "An American. She lives in France though."
Blanche smiled. "Miss Cale? Of course I know her. She came through a bit ago heading to the golf course. You were to be meeting her for her tee off?"
Antonio took the second to give her a charming smile. Miss Cale was it? "I was," he said, trying to sound charmingly embarrassed. From the way her face was shining, it was working. "Which is why I am in such a hurry now. I must go and beg her forgiveness now and make my lady happy again."
"Of course," she replied, enjoying the sweet love story unfolding in front of her. "Henri can tell you which trail she decided to take. I believe there are a few golf carts left this morning."
Antonio took her hand and kissed it lightly. "I am forever indebted to you, Madame," he said, meaning it far more than she could understand.
It was quite possible that finding her was far too easy. Perhaps if finding her had been more difficult, then other things would have balanced out a bit better. Henri told him about which hole she should be at then, and was able to give him a cart. Of course, with Madame Fouinon's blessings on him, he would have gotten a club cart if that were all that was available. He drove down the lane, his eyes darting around to the golfers on the course. The first few drops of rain that had been threatening all morning were starting to fall, and he worried that she might go in before he found her. And then finally, there she was. Had he thought about it, it might have frightened him a little to know that he knew her by silhouette alone.
However, thinking was going to have to wait. She was ignoring the rain as she lined up her next shot. He pulled up as she took a swing, the club hitting the ball with a thump that was smothered by the snarled curse that she let fly with the ball. She glanced back at whoever was interrupting. Their eyes met. Time seemed to stop. Until of course, the first club of several came flying towards him in a hail of rain and cursing.
