“What’s the point of stereotypes if you can’t use them to your advantage?”
“I’m so glad to hear that.”
“Why?”
“Wahl called. He wants to interview the family. Kaylee, Luciana’s daughter, is my age. I need the Count.”
Alessandro’s entire persona changed. He took his feet off the table and sat straighter in his chair, throwing one long leg over the other. His pose acquired elegance. His expression turned suave. He looked worldly, slightly jaded, yet breathtakingly handsome.
“Is this the Count you were looking for?” A light Italian accent overlaid his words like a glossy polish.
“Yes. That’s the guy.”
“And what will this humble Count get if he comes with you?” His voice was like velvet.
“The satisfaction of a job well done?”
“I was thinking of something more substantial.”
“Like what?”
“Once this is over, we go away for a weekend to the coast. I don’t care which, as long as there is clear blue water and hot weather. No meetings, no appointments, no phone.”
I knew what he was asking. Whether Linus survived or not, we would do this, because it was about us alone. “Done. Will you take a kiss as a down payment?”
“I’d be a fool not to.”
I walked over and leaned down. My lips touched his. I started tentative and gentle, a tease rather than a promise, just a hint of things to come. His mouth opened. I caught his breath, and my tongue brushed his ever so slightly. His hand slid into my hair, and he kissed me back, hungry but savoring every moment. We kissed while the world stood still and when we finally came up for air, I had to stop myself from reaching for his clothes.
Count Sagredo gave me a dazzling smile. “I am at your service, tesoro mio.”
Luciana Cabera and her daughter lived in River Oaks, less than ten minutes away from Linus on foot, in a seven-million-dollar mansion. The 8,500 square foot home sat in the middle of a manicured acre and was built in what Alessandro started calling Houston European style, meaning it was a pseudo-Mediterranean beige stucco house with a colonnade and an inexplicable round turret of brown stone that matched nothing else.
Alessandro grimaced as we pulled up to the house and parked Rhino behind a stereotypical black SUV with federal license plates. Rhino was Grandma Frida’s special project, a custom armored SUV she built from the ground up. It was the most secure vehicle we had that could still pass for a somewhat civilian car.
“Snob.”
He gave me a pained look. “Why does it have a turret, Catalina? Are they expecting an army of medieval knights and trebuchets?”
“You never know,” I told him.
“It’s a Tuscan colonnade interrupted by a Scottish turret with Tudor windows.”
“You can hold on to my hand. I’ll lead you in while you avert your eyes.”
“No need.”
My phone chimed.
“Cornelius,” I told Alessandro and put the phone on speaker.
“You were right,” Cornelius said. “It’s recent. Less than twenty-four hours.”
Damn it. I had hoped I was wrong.
“Thank you so much.”
“Of course. Any time.”
I said goodbye and hung up.
Alessandro was looking at me.
“Do you remember the brush I stole from Luciana’s purse? I gave it to Cornelius. He took the brush and Gus to Linus’ house and had Gus check the scent signatures. Luciana’s scent is in the yard and in the house, and it’s fresh. As the Speaker, she had unprecedented access to the Warden. They likely had many confidential meetings. He might have added her as an exception to his security system.”
“When did you know?”
“I didn’t. I had a feeling.”
Alessandro wiggled his fingers at me. “Witchery.”
“No, instincts. Once Leon called and told us that the siege protocols were active but there were no bodies, I knew that either the attack never happened, or the attacker got out unscathed. Luciana and Linus, one attack after another. It felt too coincidental. I didn’t suspect her, but it didn’t feel right, so I wanted to cover all of my bases.”
He didn’t seem surprised. Why wasn’t he surprised?
“Alessandro, you have something.”
“I do.”
“What do you have?”
“Would you like to see it?”
“Alessandro!”
Alessandro produced his phone with an elegant flourish and offered it to me. An email from someone named Doc Giordano.