Disclaimer: The characters belonging to Janet Evanovich are used strictly for entertainment purposes.

A/N: I'm going to try to post the next chapter on Wednesday instead of Thursday because of Thanksgiving, but please forgive me if it isn't posted until Friday!

…

Chapter 20

Marco looked around. "Ranger's not coming?"

"No."

He sighed. "I wanted to explain to him that I fell in love with Camila before I knew she was you."

I shook my head. "I'm sure he gets that, Marco. It's best to leave it alone." He nodded after a few seconds of thinking and I turned to Walker. "So?"

"What?"

I gestured in the vicinity of his body. "Shouldn't you be pulling out sharp things and filling them or something?"

He looked at me steadily for a few seconds and realization dawned on me. "You don't want to do it anymore."

"What are you talking about?" Marco asked, facing me, but looking back and forth between me and Walker.

I huffed. "Walker is supposed to be giving me a drug that will help make it easier for me get into Camila's memories."

"What?" he asked Walker, turning to him. "I'm no doctor, but it doesn't sound safe to me."

Big eye roll from me. "Marco, I want this and I make my own decisions."

He shook his head slightly and ignored me. "Is this safe? I can't believe Ranger would agree to this."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Hey. Marco." He looked at me. "Don't ignore me, okay? My life, my decision. Even Ranger's smart enough not to stand in my way when I want to do something."

Marco stared at me for a brief second and then nodded. "I meant no offense. It is simply that I—" He looked at me, then. Really looked at me. "You're not Camila and part of me wants you to be, still feels responsible."

"Well, stop. I'm not her. I don't let people tell me what to do. And I speak for myself, too. Stephanie Plum. Nice to meet you, Marco." I held out my hand. He hesitated slightly and then leaned across the coffee table to shake it in a firm grasp.

When Marco returned to his seat, Walker put his elbows on his knees and fixed me with a serious look before saying, "I originally agreed to the treatment because a child's life was in danger. The situation has changed and the risk isn't worth it. If Carlo was in that house," I felt a slash of pain across my heart at his words, "there's nothing that can be done. And if he wasn't, then we'll find out more when we find Adriano."

I pressed my lips together for a second until I was sure I could speak without sounding like an emotional wreck. "What about finding Adriano?"

Walker raised an eyebrow.

"What if I can help?" Even I knew my argument was weak, but I couldn't seem to stop myself from pushing the issue.

He shook his head. "Why are you so adamant about taking these drugs? The reason for the urgency is gone, Stephanie." Then a look or recognition came into his eyes. "That's it. You're hoping to see something that will give you hope."

I looked away from him and said, in a quiet voice, "I won't let him be dead." Neither of them responded. Maybe they understood that I just needed a minute. When I knew I wouldn't cry, I turned back to Walker. "What if we can't trigger a dream today?"

He lifted his hands, palms up, in a 'so what' expression. "Do you really think there's anything else you could see in her memories that will help us?"

I looked down at the floor. "Maybe not."

"Stephanie," Walker said. I looked up at him. "I do have another idea. It might be a little risky, but much safer than this drug." He hesitated a little. "It will most likely not be pleasant for you."

Without knowing how, I perfectly understood where he was going. "Yes. We can try it, Walker."

Marco sat forward. "What? What do you want to try?"

I looked at Marco. "Do you have your phone on you?"

He jumped to his feet, angry, backing away and gesturing wildly with his hands. "No. No way."

Walker opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand and silenced him. Then I stood and walked toward Marco, stopping just short of his flailing arms. "Marco, listen."

"I will not let him torture you. On purpose!"

Suddenly I knew we were dealing with much more than just Walker's proposed treatment method. "This isn't about what Walker wants to do, is it?"

Marco scowled and threw himself down into his chair, slouching down and tipping his head against the back, staring up at the ceiling. "Of course it is. This is mad."

"You feel guilty." His head snapped up and he gave me a dark look. "You do. Because when you found out that Adriano was abusing me—Camila, and that you could believe her stories, you thought it was your fault. You would have told Seppe, wouldn't you?"

He let out a slow breath. "It would have been the only way I could have helped her. I wasn't allowed—"

"Because of you were undercover. No hard feelings there, Marco." In fact, it even made sense and I had long since come to realize that it must be hard for them to stand by and let it happen. "I'm more pissed about your attitude this morning—"

"I apologized for that. I know it doesn't make it disappear, but I said I was wrong."

"—but I'm getting over it."

We both smiled slightly. "Okay. We're good?"

I nodded. "We're getting there." I turned around and returned to my chair. "Look, Walker's plan is a good option. Yeah, it's unpleasant for me, but I think we all know it's safer than the drug."

"How can we be sure?"

Walker said, "Because she recovers quickly and doesn't experience any confusion about who or where she is."

Marco sighed and pulled his cell phone out. "I turned if off before I got here."

Walker took the phone, turned it on, and tapped the touch screen for several minutes. Finally, he slipped it into the pocket of his blazer. "Why don't we get started?" When both of us nodded, he said, "Let's just talk for a little while."

"About what?"

"We know how you met and how the relationship progressed. We were wondering if you could tell us more about Camila's life with Adriano."

"I know he was very demanding of her. She had to call him every hour when she was out. At first, I thought he was just really worried about her, as I was. Seppe told me she'd been ill." I nodded. "After the wedding—"

"When did they marry?" Walker asked.

"January. Ah, the 20th. At the Marotta compound." He looked at both of us before continuing. "After, she began to say that he made her keep food logs and he made her do a doctor approved exercise program every morning and evening. I thought maybe he was overprotective, but still seemed to be taking care of her."

I couldn't help myself. I snorted. "Marco, not many men would be that obsessive about keeping track of someone's eating habits. Maybe some would be enthusiastic about the exercise, but the food journal?"

He looked embarrassed. "Well, yes, I did realize that later. The truth is she wouldn't talk about Adriano much. She felt guilty about breaking her vows and I think she was worried about getting caught. We spent most of our time talking, kissing … making the most of our time together."

A piece of lint on the jeans I'd changed into when Ranger and I returned to the hotel suddenly grabbed my attention. It was easier to focus on it than on the fact that I'd had an affair, that I'd married someone other than Ranger, or … everything else that had happened.

He lifted his foot and crossed his ankle over his knee. "After she had the baby, the look in her eyes changed. Wanted our meetings to be even more discreet. There was a real fear. And I didn't have the freedom to investigate." He looked angry for a minute and then sighed. "After I realized she was you," he pointed to me, "I thought it had all been part of an act to gain my sympathy and trust."

When I started to narrow my eyes, he put his hand up to stop me. "You don't have to say it. The truth is, if given a do over, I would have done the same thing because it's what I'm trained to do. Stand back and assess when something doesn't seem right." He made a small 'palms up' gesture I took to mean 'what do you do?' and said, "Still, it's been a struggle for me to know the trouble that doubt caused you. What it caused her."

"Did she say what happened after the baby was born?"

Marco shook his head. "He was angrier. I do know that. And he made her start running before the doctor cleared her for normal activities. Carlo was less than a month old."

Walker and I looked at each other, probably for different reasons. I worried about what impact that could have on my health now and Walker … I had no idea what he was thinking. He turned to Marco. "Did she ever say why he made her run?"

Marco shrugged. "I assumed it was abnormal obsession. She never gave any reasons when I asked."

Suddenly, I recalled the dream I'd had when Tank had shown me the pregnancy pictures. "Ohhh, noooo," I said, dragging out the vowel sounds in a half moan, half frustrated tone. I put my hands to my temples and leaned forward, elbows on the chair's arms, head shaking back and forth. "I know," I said.

"What?" They asked in unison.

Without looking up, I said, "Adriano was angry with Camila for listing Teo as Carlo's father on the birth certificate. He'd clearly expected to be listed as such. It fit in his plans with the perfect family. When she didn't do it, he wanted her to have another baby. His baby. Now, I think his plan was to get rid of Carlo all along."

Walker shook his head. "So, what was the explosion about, then?"

I wondered, too. Then my head shot up. I looked at Marco. "What if I was pregnant? Then he would kill Carlo because he knew I wouldn't do anything stupid as long as I was pregnant. Carlo was his bargaining chip and he wouldn't get rid of him without some security."

"Did you ever hear anything about a pregnancy or a miscarriage?" Walker asked Marco.

Marco looked like he would be sick. "No. When she was in the hospital, a pregnancy was never mentioned, but what she says makes sense. Adriano would only eliminate Carlo if he got what he wanted."

We were all silent contemplating the possibility, but then I decided I couldn't dwell on it right now. We didn't know anything and I was going to drive myself crazy with wild scenarios if I didn't stop. The motivations only went as far as our imaginations without the benefit of talking to the people responsible. So far our research pointed to Adriano and Harry. And even though I couldn't think of a reason he'd want to hurt me, Harry made more sense than Adriano, especially given our connection to Trenton. Were they in this together or was Adriano clueless about who Camila really was?

It was more productive to move on right now than to dwell on 'what ifs' when we had no way to get any confirmation. "Tell me about the end. How she got away from him. Seppe told me that Adriano tried to kill her and you were involved in helping."

Marco nodded. "I hadn't heard from you—her since our night together. It reinforced my belief that you had been trying to trick me. I was almost pulled off the case because we didn't know if my cover had been blown."

I nodded. I wasn't going down Blame Lane again, so I just waited for him to continue.

Marco dropped his foot from his knee and sat forward so he was barely on the edge of the cushion. "It was the third week of June. Around the 19th, that's my sister's birthday. Might have been the day after. Camila called me from a number I didn't recognize. In fact, the only reason I took the call was because I didn't know it was her. I wouldn't have answered … if I had known." He gave me an apologetic look and I waved it off.

"She was frantic. Said Adriano was going to kill her and she didn't know who else to call. I don't know why, and I asked myself this question all the way there, but I went to help her. I thought I was a fool until I jumped the wall into the back and saw Adriano holding her head under the water in the pool. Her arms and legs were flailing everywhere, she was fighting hard. He looked up and saw me, let go, and took off running. I shot at him, but can't be sure I hit him. He didn't stop running."

"He was trying to drown her?"

"Yes. I pulled her out and performed CPR. She wasn't breathing. I called Emergency Services and they had to shock her with paddles twice before her heart started to beat again."

"Hmm," Walker said. "They defibrillated her twice?"

Marco didn't get to answer because the phone's beep sounded. The pain was worse than ever this time and I gasped, mouth open, head back. I felt like every part of my body had lit up. I fell to my hands and knees, Marco's shoes swam in my line of vision before everything went black.

…

I felt so weak today. It had been two days since Adriano brought any food to me, and even longer since he brought me fresh water to drink. Sprawled out on the floor in the kitchen on the slate flooring, I lay, staring at his shoes as he walked in from the hallway adjoining this room to the sitting room.

He had his running shoes on and I wanted to cry. I had no energy for running today. No energy for anything.

Adriano walked straight up to me and nudged my face with his shoe. "Get up," he said. I only managed to turn my face so I could look up at him. He yanked me to my feet by my hair, drawing a low whimper from me, but when he let go, I crumpled.

"What's the matter with you?"

I was proud of myself for glaring at him, though it earned me a backhand across the cheek. I was lying across the floor once more, only facedown, pressing my pounding cheek against the cold stone.

"Oh yes," Adriano said. "You must be hungry."

My stomach twisted painfully, but I didn't move, didn't look at him.

"Do you know why I haven't fed you?" I didn't answer and I could feel his anger build up even more. "I found your little water stash, Camila."

This was the first real moment of fear I'd experienced in a few days. I'd been numb since the explosion ten days ago, since Adriano had locked me in the house with guards who refused to let me leave. He'd turned off the water, all except the toilet. I had to depend on him for every meal, and he didn't bring them regularly. It was the ultimate control game, and I was losing. Now even more so.

At first, when I realized the water was off and questioned him, he told me that I had the toilet water available to drink or wash with, I was angry. Every morning, he brought with him a bottle of filtered water with exactly the amount needed to make his cup of espresso. On the second morning, I was desperate. Almost desperate enough to drink the water he brought for me and risk punishment or to break down and use the water from the toilet.

That day, he left me alone to make his espresso while he went out to talk to the guards and I made a snap decision. Opening a drawer, I pulled out the empty bottle from yesterday. For some reason I'd kept it. I took a marker from the drawer and marked a line on the empty bottle at the same place where the water line was on the full bottle.

My heart was stuck in my throat as I went to the bathroom and filled up the second bottle from the toilet. It took a couple of tries, but I'd gotten it to the right level and then scurried back to the kitchen. I immediately poured the water into the machine and shoved the marked bottle under the sink. The fresh water I also shoved under the sink behind the cleaning supplies. Then I made his espresso.

He came into the kitchen just as I was pouring the espresso into his cup. He took it and sipped, then declared it the best cup I'd made. I'd had to use all of my inner strength to keep from giving anything away with my face.

I'd rationed the water, drinking a little of it throughout the day. Somehow, he'd found out about it. I didn't know how and it didn't really matter. What mattered was that he knew and he would retaliate.

"I'm surprised you thought of it, really. You're showing a resourcefulness I'd never expect. You should have stuck to making fancy beverages." The rage on his face made my blood pump faster.

I glanced longingly at the back door while he waited for my response and I decided I wasn't going to respond. I didn't owe him anything. I couldn't leave or run, not with the guards watching me. Besides, I'd tried to leave. Three times. I still hurt from his most recent punishment. My left eye was so swollen I couldn't see out of it.

I eyed him warily. It wasn't like Adriano to be so silent or patient. He was most dangerous when he seemed calm. He was still waiting, still silent.

Without warning, Adriano grabbed me roughly, dragging me to my feet. With his arm around my waist, he strong armed me through the house to the bedroom. He tore my yellow summer dress from my body and leaned down to bite my breast in part possession, part punishment. He did it because he could and because it hurt.

I didn't cry out, though the pain screamed through me. Instead, I went to the one place that made Adriano's touches tolerable. I thought of Luca. His gentleness, the soft kisses he'd trailed over my body. It had been two weeks since he'd contacted me or come to check on me. Two weeks since we'd finally given in to our love, our attraction. I didn't know why Luca had been silent. Was he through with me? Had something happened to him? Would I ever know?

It had also been two weeks since Adriano had locked me in this house with no running water save for the toilet, no electricity, no mobile phone, and no contact with the outside world. Still, that wouldn't have stopped Luca if he'd wanted to see me. Something had happened. I was sure of it.

When he was finally finished with me, Adriano rolled over and fell asleep. At first I thought it was a trick. He'd never done it before. His displays of dominance usually energized him. I waited until I heard his breathing change to deep and steady. Carefully, I crept off the bed and when I was finally on the floor, I froze with bated breath, listening. When he didn't stir, I tiptoed to his clothes and released his mobile phone from its case, then stopped again, to listen.

No change. I left the room slowly, soundlessly, and walked through the bathroom, then turned down the narrow hallway to the other bedrooms. It wasn't a part of the house I spent much time in, but it served my purpose now. I went to the farthest bedroom, there were two down this hall, and carefully let myself in, then went to the closet before opening the phone.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that Adriano didn't have his phone locked. A man like him never thought he needed security on something as mundane as a mobile device. He probably thought no one would dare touch something belonging to him.

I'd memorized Luca's number long ago, and hoped he would answer the unfamiliar number. It rang. Once, twice. On the third ring, I felt panic stir in my chest. Just before the fourth, and final, ring, he answered.

"Favino." He answered with his last name, the way he always answered his phone with strangers.

"Luca," I whispered, stifling a sob of relief.

There was a brief moment of hesitation. Perhaps Adriano had threatened him. "Camila, what is it?"

"I need you to help me." My voice trembled and I took a deep breath. "He's trapped me here. He's going to kill me."

His voice lowered slightly as if he didn't want anyone to hear him. "Where?"

"In the house. Please. He's sleeping, but he'll wake soon. He's run out of patience."

There was another brief pause, then he said, "Okay, I'm coming."

"Hurry."

We hung up. My lifeline. For one moment, I'd felt calm, peaceful. I felt like everything would be okay. Letting go of the connection brought a trepidation that was beyond the physical. My breaths were shallow, heart hammering in my chest, ears pounding from the pressure, and mind racing with hundreds of wild 'what if' thoughts.

I shook my head and let myself out of the closet, then out of the room. After shutting the door, I turned and nearly ran into Adriano. I screamed, unable to stop the overload of terror rushing through my brain.

Adriano grabbed my neck and raised his fist. He alternated between hitting and choking me. The phone clattered to the floor, but he didn't stop. When he started talking, he emphasized his words with blows to my body: head, stomach, chest, face, everywhere.

"I. Gave. You. Everything. I. Loved. You." He took a deep breath, then choked me with both hands. I struggled for air, beating at his wrists with my hands. I had to survive. Luca was coming. I had to make it for him. For us.

"You have always lied. To me. To Giuseppe. And no doubt that bastard, Luca, too."

I shook my head, my eyes pleading.

"Oh yes. That little bastard. I'm sure you've noticed that he looks nothing like his father. I've seen the pictures. You had a lover back then. You had a lover with me. You are not worth the air you breathe." I didn't know about a lover. I didn't remember my life with Teo before my tumor. Was Adriano right?

Everything went fuzzy. I couldn't see him, and I felt as if I were drowning in a sea of black. Then he let go and I gulped in air, falling to my knees, weak. Adriano was not finished with me. He grabbed my arm, twisting it up behind my back, the other hand in my hair, and he stood me up, shoving me down the hallway, out to the living room, then the kitchen.

He didn't stop there. Outside, the afternoon sun was bright, blinding me. We reached the pool and he threw me to the ground. I lifted my head, but his hand was in my hair again.

Water, cold and clear, flooded my eyes, mouth, ears, and nose. I pushed against the stone edge of the pool, trying to lift my head, but he held me under. My lungs burned, my heart screamed. I thought he'd pull me up again, prolong the torture, but he held me steady.

I struggled. Luca was coming. I had to survive.

Adriano shoved his knee onto my back, pressing his weight onto me, pushing out the last of my air. Bubbles fizzled around my head; then my lungs, empty and needy, began to convulse, trying to suck in a breath. I held my mouth and nose closed. I didn't want to take in the water.

At some point, I realized I was fighting only in my head. I was too weak to resist Adriano's physical strength. I wanted to cry. Emotion, raw and painful, ripped a hole in my heart. Luca was coming. He would find me drowned.

I sobbed, the water came in, but it didn't hurt like I thought. It felt like a part of me, as if we were one. I closed my eyes and let myself go, thinking one final thought: Luca.

…

The slapping annoyed me more than anything, even the annoying voice saying, "Stephanie, wake up" over and over again.

"Her eyelids are fluttering," Marco said.

"Ugh," I groaned. Dizzy was an understatement for how I felt.

Walker checked my pulse. I recognized the feel of his hold by now. Long, muscular fingers, gently gripping my wrist. "Careful, don't sit up. You hit your head on the table during the episode."

I gulped down the nausea his words induced and sighed. "You didn't think to move it?"

"Not until after you hit your head. You don't normally thrash around like that."

My lips pursed. "There's always a first time with me."

"I'm learning that."

I heard someone pacing. Marco. "Shit!" Walker glanced up at him, briefly. He said, "Shit!" again. I began to realize that Marco switched to Italian when he was really upset. "How could you so calmly watch her go through that? This has to stop, it can't be good for her!"

Walker looked up at Marco. "I don't like it, either, but it'd be worse to interfere with the process."

"You caused it!"

Ignoring Marco's outburst, Walker let go of my wrist and pressed a stethoscope to my chest. It was slightly cold, but didn't bother me much. I felt slightly overheated, as if I'd been on a light jog. "Warm," I said.

"I'm not surprised," Walker murmured. "You had quite the battle going on."

I looked at him through slitted eyes. "That bad, huh?"

"Bad enough."

I closed my eyes tight and sighed. "Damn you, Walker. That was a nasty trick."

He brushed my hair back from my forehead and said, "I thought it would be more effective if you didn't know when to expect it."

I grunted and squeezed my eyes tighter. The nausea was coming back again, so I opened them a little to find an anchor point that would hopefully stop the swimming in my head. I looked at Walker and focused on his deep blue eyes.

Marco handed him something white, but I didn't catch it. Then I understood what it was when Walker put a cool cloth to my forehead. He motioned Marco to the floor and they changed spots, Walker heading to the small kitchenette. I made a noise in appreciation of the cold against my skin.

Marco said, "You were calling for Luca." He sounded miserable.

I hesitated. "I wasn't, Camila was."

"Of the day he tried to kill you."

I nodded and looked at him.

He flipped the cloth over. "I wasted too much time doubting when I could have helped you."

At least he felt bad. Since the past couldn't be undone, I'd take that. "Look, how about we just let it go?" He was silent and I continued. "Okay, so you could have helped keep my body safe, but Camila was always doomed from the start. She was fabricated, a myth." I could tell by his expression what he wished right then. "You wouldn't want it that way. Wouldn't want a relationship with someone who could never fully be yours, who was stolen from her own life."

"I know." His voice was resigned and he nodded in agreement. "Our relationship never should have been. I broke all of the rules to be with her."

That was a good point. "True." I pushed myself up onto my elbow and balanced easily. The nausea appeared to have passed. "Okay, I'm feeling better now. Can I get up?" I called out to Walker.

"Go for it. Carefully."

Marco reached a hand down to me and helped me up from the floor. I sat down in my chair and leaned my head against the back cushion. Then he sat on the couch near me. The sound of metal clinking against metal came from the kitchen area. We were both silent, listening to the sounds from the kitchen, both lost in our own thoughts.

Suddenly, Marco laughed lightly, barely more than a snort, and I slowly turned my face to look at him with a questioning glance. He shrugged and said, "I've been thinking about you and Camila. I've realized that Camila appealed to me on every level. And while you look just like her, I find you to be too … direct. For my taste. She never would have yelled at me the way you did when I got here."

I laughed, unable to help myself. "And I was worried about how to get you to fall out of love with me." A wave of dizziness cut my laughter short. It must have been some knock on the head I'd given myself. I groaned and then smiled weakly. "I'm glad I don't meet with your approval."

A worried look settled on his face. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Not to worry, Marco. No offense taken."

Walker returned with two cups of coffee. "Black," he warned, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Milk and sugar."

He left and returned a few minutes later with my doctored coffee. Then he sat down and said, "Why don't we talk about your dream?"

I told them everything. When I finished, I said, "Then we know Harry took me from the hospital about a week later, and I woke up in Paris." I realized it might be helpful to talk to the doctors who treated me. "Marco, do you think you could get us the names of the medical staff that treated me two weeks ago? Specifically, the doctors."

"Yes. I can take you there now, if you'd like. Seppe has given me instructions to help you and Ranger out with anything you need."

I smiled. "He's already talked to you?"

"Called me as soon as you left his home, told me that you would both have questions for me."

Good. That meant we could get everything we needed from him and protect his cover. I looked at Walker. "Do you think talking to the doctors would help?"

"I'd like to go with you, but need to put some notes together. And I'm hungry. I was too busy to eat earlier."

Marco stood. "I can take care of the food, if you like? There's a little restaurant a few blocks away, best sauce in town. Stephanie could help me so you have a few minutes alone. Spaghetti and bread?" Walker nodded. "Twenty minutes tops. Will that give you enough time?"

"Plenty."

The mention of food made my stomach growl. I didn't know if I was so ravenous because I'd been starving in my dream or because I hadn't had a chance to grab dinner, but I was excited about having the best pasta sauce in Rome.

I followed Marco out of the hotel and down the street to a little silver car that looked like a shiny tin can. I arched my brow at Marco and he grinned. "It's very safe. And fast."

"Great." He laughed and opened the passenger door for me.

Thirty minutes later, we parked back at the hotel very close to the same spot where Marco's car had been before. I had a bag with a huge box of spaghetti and a tub of extra sauce I'd insisted upon. It smelled so good I wanted to sing the Italian National Anthem. Brothers of Italy, Italy has awoken! Then I realized I knew the words and shook my head. Freaky.

Marco carried the large bag to the side door and I searched through my bag for my key card. I finally remembered it was in my back pocket and rolled my eyes, pulling it out. We both laughed and I stopped short when I saw him freeze and drop the bag, reaching inside his sport jacket. I started to ask him what was wrong, when two very strong arms grabbed me from behind and a black cloth bag was pulled over my head.

There were two sickening thuds and I realized someone had hit Marco, hard. I screamed and a strong hand covered my mouth. I bit the hand, the man swore in Italian, and then something heavy hit me on the back of the head, knocking me out.