After all her uppity pronouncements. All her fighting words.

“Good night.” He turned, and headed out the door.

Vivi stood for a moment, looking at the black rectangle, open to the fragrant, noisy night. The candlelit room seemed blank and empty.

Chapter

3

Jack paced the length of his living room, hands clenched, stopping at each end like a caged beast.

He’d just spent hours on the Internet, researching Vivi D’Onofrio. Browsing around on her commercial website, looking at her jewelry designs. Necklaces, rings, brooches, earrings, nose rings. Perfume bottles, Christmas tree ornaments, mobiles, jewelry boxes. Made of glass, beads, metal, wood, homemade paper, found materials. The stuff was weirdly beautiful. Unusual. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly that he liked about it, but he liked it.

He wondered how she dealt with her mail-order business. If he were one of the bad guys, the first thing he’d do would be to order a pair of earrings from her site, go to the address they were sent from, and start pushing whoever he found there. Dangerous for everyone involved.

There were also a lot of references regarding a big-shot art gallery in New York City, run by a guy named Brian Wilder. There was a picture of him, one of those stiff, mannered shots, where the guy tried to look smart by holding on to his chin with a hooked finger as if hiding a zit. The guy’s photo triggered instant dislike. Made Jack’s prick-o-meter register way off the chart.

Then he’d studied shots of Vivi’s artwork from the archived catalogs of the Wilder Gallery, from five, six years ago. The same vibe as the pieces on her website, but they were bigger, bolder more ambitious. And the prices staggered him. Jesus wept. Even if the gallery took a huge cut, she could have gotten rich, if she’d stayed with it.

But for some people, freedom was more important than wealth.

That was the thought that had propelled him to this frantic pacing.

The situation was fucked. He could hardly breathe, he was so tense. Wound up, turned on. The way things were going, he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself from tossing her down and having at her, like a beast in rut. And his instincts were telling him that angry and proud or not, she wasn’t going to stop him.

No checks or balances. Nothing to hold him back but his own fast eroding self-control. Everything about her pulled him. He was strung out on the fruity, sweet smell of her hair. The outrageous vivid color of it. He couldn’t get over those big, brilliant eyes, the exotic shape of them. Her delicate, pointed chin. Her pink, full mouth.

He wondered, uncomfortably, who that friend was, the one she’d lost and gotten the memorial tattoo for. He wondered if it was her lover who had died. Wondered if she still missed the guy. Or grieved for him.

Can of worms. None of his business.

Her shoulder was so thin and delicate, decorated with that tiny, stylized sun image. Her skin so smooth, her muscles sinuous and strong, despite how slender her small frame was. Small and perfect.

He looked up at the clock, and did the math. It was six-thirty a.m. in Italy, where Duncan was currently wallowing in romantic bliss, in some picturesque B&B in Tuscany. He’d be unthrilled to be dragged out of the clasp of his new lady’s silken limbs. Served the bastard right for getting him into this. Duncan’s satellite phone rang and rang.

Eight times, nine, ten, eleven. Jack waited, grimly.

Duncan finally picked up. “Jack? Huh? What the fuck?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“I think that’s my line,” Jack said.

“Is Viv okay?” his friend demanded.

“She’s fine,” he said.

“So? What’s the problem?”

“Think about it,” Jack snarled. “Figure it out, Dunc.”

A soft, feminine murmur in the background. A questioning tone.

“Nah, just Jack,” Duncan replied. Another questioning murmur. “He says Viv’s fine. I’ll go talk in the other room. Go on back to sleep.”

Jack heard the sound of a door clicking shut, and Duncan’s voice got harder. “You woke Nell, numbnuts. She needs her sleep. She’s been through hell. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“You never hesitate to call in the middle of the night when the urge takes you. Besides, the sun should be up where you are. Why didn’t you tell me what to expect?”

Duncan paused, baffled. “I did,” he said. I told you all about those sadistic motherfuckers who are after my fiancée and my soon-to-be sisters-in-law. What else do you need to know about the—”

“No. Not about them. I mean, about her.”

“Ah…” Duncan’s voice trailed off. “Oh. I see. You mean, why didn’t I tell you how cute she was? You’re mad because I didn’t fill you in about the long red hair, the big gray eyes, the slender limbs, the rosy lips?”

“Goddamn it, Dunc—”

“You’re a sad case when you need to be warned about shit like that. Did she knock you backward a couple of paces? Figured she might.”

“You didn’t tell me she was a tattooed flower child with a fucking dragon painted on her camper van.” Jack felt frustrated, and stupid. He couldn’t express why he felt so misled, jerked around.

“So it’s the tattoos that bug you.” Duncan clucked his tongue. “Did you see the one she has right over the crack of her ass?”

Jack sat straight upright, as if he’d been stung by a bug. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Saw her in low-rise jeans and a halter top once,” Dunc said laconically. “Sweet.”

“You stinking bucket of festering slime! Aren’t you supposed to be in love with her sister?”

“Whoo-hah, aren’t we passionate,” Duncan murmured. “I am in love with the sister. I’m marrying the sister. I’m having fifteen kids with the sister. I’m all over that sister twenty-four seven, like white on rice. But I still notice a mandolin-shaped ass when I see one. So shoot me for sending it your way. God knows, you need something to get you going. Vivi’s good for giving jolts. Chick’s a walking firecracker.”

“So you admit it, then? You set me up?” Jack demanded.

Duncan was silent for a moment. “You’re thinking this is all about you and your deep-frozen dick, aren’t you?” he said slowly. “Well, it’s not, man. Did she tell you what they did to Nell when they took her?”

Jack rubbed his aching forehead. “Dunc, that’s not what I’m—”

“They drugged her. Shoved her into the trunk of a car. Tied her to a chair. They beat her. They would have cut and raped and killed her, if I hadn’t gotten there in time. These are the guys who are after Viv. That’s what they’ll do to her. Think about it, butthead. You paying attention?”

Jack let a fierce sigh hiss between clenched teeth. “Yes.”

“The reason I’m breaking your balls about this is because it’s the only way I could think of to keep her relatively safe short of tying her, gagging her, and locking her in a fucking closet. She is not the most reasonable of females. In fact, she’s, ah, real independent minded.”

“I’ve noticed that,” he said sourly.

“Family trait,” Duncan confided cheerfully. “It’ll drive you bug-fuck, buddy.”

“You need to resolve this thing before that happens,” Jack said tightly. “Got any leads?”

“Not much. Nell and I are renting a car tomorrow, to drive down to Castiglione Sant’Angelo and ask some questions. Nell speaks fluent Italian, you see.”

The fatuous pride in the guy’s voice set Jack’s teeth on edge. “Well. How nice for you,” he said sourly. “Eat a pizza for me. Isn’t that a great excuse to run off and leave me holding the bag.”