Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The gravel crunched beneath Enzo’s boots as they stepped fully into the circular clearing around the obelisk.
Mist from the fountain cooled the air, the sound of the rushing water filled the space, and made it harder to hear anything beyond arm’s length.
Damn, he hated being this exposed. He hated that Kathleen was out here where she could get hurt.
It made him want to protect her all the more.
Enzo’s gaze swept the ring of gravel automatically, faces, hands, posture, movement. He knew what to look for. A lifetime working for the mob had taught him that. It had honed his instincts to a fine point, and the few months he’d been retired hadn’t dulled anything.
Tourists lingered at the edges of the circle, couples murmured, and a few people paused to take photos. Nothing out of place. Not too many people, which was good news.
Then he saw someone who made his blood boil.
Matteo stood near the far hedge, just off one of the branching paths. Jeans. A faded T-shirt. Baseball cap pulled low, brim shadowing his face. He wasn’t looking at the fountain or the water. He was watching the people. Watching them.
The air seemed to go thin in Enzo’s lungs. Fuck.
Matteo kept his distance, exactly the way a trained man would, close enough to see, far enough not to draw attention. He cursed Danny for training Matteo so well. Anyone else would’ve missed him. Enzo didn’t.
This wasn’t a coincidence. This was confirmation. The train. Nice. Gare du Nord. The way Dominic had found them too easily, too precisely. The way the net had closed before Enzo even realized it was there. Matteo.
Enzo’s jaw locked as heat flared up his torso. He didn’t move, didn’t react outwardly. He shifted his weight slightly, angling his body so Kathleen was shielded, his eyes never leaving the far hedge.
Logan noticed immediately.
“What is it?” Logan asked under his breath.
“Matteo,” Enzo said quietly. “Far hedge. Jeans. Hat.”
Logan followed his line of sight, barely turning his head. “Shit. Is he one of Dominic’s men?”
Kathleen looked between them, confusion flickering across her face. “Who’s Matteo?”
“One of mine,” Enzo said. His voice stayed even, but inside everything was tightening. “Or he was.”
Kathleen’s eyes widened. “He was our driver during the chase. You kept yelling at him. You think he’s the one who—”
“Yes.”
The realization settled like a weight. Matteo hadn’t just talked. He’d sold them out. And if Matteo were here now, it meant Rocco had been getting updates in real time. Which meant Dominic could be close.
Enzo pulled his phone from his pocket and stepped half a pace away, using the sound of the fountain as cover. He dialed Danny. Straight to voicemail. He tried again.
Nothing.
A spike of unease twisted low in his gut. Danny didn’t miss calls. Not like this. Not now.
“You calling your head of security?”
Enzo nodded.
“You can’t reach him,” Logan said quietly, reading his face.
“No.”
Kathleen touched Enzo’s arm. “What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t know if Danny is still free,” Enzo said.
Or alive. Or also playing for Rocco’s team and just ignoring Enzo’s call.
He didn’t say that part. He didn’t want to frighten her, and if he was being honest, saying it out loud made it seem like a real possibility.
“And it means Matteo’s presence here isn’t accidental. ”
Logan exhaled slowly. “Question is, who does Matteo actually belong to now? Vitale or Rocco?”
“Rocco,” Enzo said without hesitation.
Logan glanced at him. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” Enzo’s gaze flicked back to Matteo, who had shifted position slightly, pretending to check his phone. “Vitale wouldn’t use Matteo. He wouldn’t trust him. Rocco would.”
Kathleen frowned. “Why does that matter?”
“Because it changes the threat,” Logan said. “If Matteo’s reporting to Rocco, that doesn’t automatically mean Dominic’s on his way.”
Enzo looked at Logan sharply. “You think Matteo only spoke to Rocco.”
“I think it’s possible,” Logan said. “Everyone wants the treasure for different reasons. Vitale wants leverage. Rocco wants power. Matteo might just be Rocco’s eyes and ears here.”
“And Dominic?” Kathleen asked.
Logan shrugged slightly. “No guarantee Rocco looped him in. Not yet.”
Enzo didn’t like it, but Logan wasn’t wrong. Rocco hoarded information. Always had. He liked to control the flow, decide who knew what, and when. Matteo being here didn’t automatically mean Dominic was seconds away. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t, either.
Enzo rubbed a hand over his jaw. “We assume worst-case,” he said. “We don’t let our guard down.”
Kathleen nodded, her expression steady now. “So, what’s our next move?”
“We proceed,” Enzo said. “But we stay loose.”
Logan touched his ear, his gaze still sweeping the circle. “I’m filling everyone in.”
Enzo watched as Logan murmured quietly, feeding information into his earpiece. Positions. Matteo. Possible betrayal. Elevated threat.
Across the gravel, Alex shifted subtly, changing her stance, her posture sharpening ever so slightly. Others would be doing the same, invisible to anyone not trained to notice.
Matteo lifted his head just then, his gaze skimming the fountain and landing on Enzo. For a split second, recognition flashed between them. Matteo looked away.
That was all Enzo needed. “Yeah,” Enzo said under his breath. “He knows I see him.”
Kathleen’s fingers tightened briefly around Enzo’s sleeve. “He won’t do anything here, will he?”
“Not openly,” Enzo said. “Too many witnesses.”
“But he’ll stay close,” Logan added. “Report everything.”
Enzo nodded. The fountain gushed beside them, water crashing down the steps in endless motion. The obelisk dominated the space, beautiful, loud, impossible to ignore. Mist clung to his skin, dampening his clothes, turning the air cool and sharp in his lungs.
Alex still had her eye on the woman.
Enzo didn’t need confirmation. He could feel it in the way the team subtly shifted, tiny changes in spacing, attention tightening like a drawn wire.
As Enzo swept a deceptively casual glance around the grove, he watched Mitch move into a spot along the gravel ring, his posture loose, his focus locked on Matteo.
Good.
Kathleen was not wrong about the Callahans. They were pros at this, and they worked like a well-oiled machine. He was impressed, and although he hated to admit it, he was damn glad they were here.
Matteo lingered near the hedge, pretending to be just another passerby, but Enzo could feel him there like a pressure point. The betrayal burned. The train. Nice. Paris. None of it had been coincidental.
Enzo pulled the map from his jacket, keeping it low, shielded by his body. The cloth was creased and worn now, the markings deceptively simple with lines and symbols, and of course, the X.
His gaze lifted from the map to the fountain, but how the hell was he supposed to get to the treasure without calling a whole hell of a lot of attention to himself?
He supposed they could try and wait until dark and do it then, but the chances of them surviving here that long without some kind of confrontation were nil.
No. It had to be now.
He studied the raised basin and the stepped terraces.
The relentless surge of water, spilling in every direction, was going to make this very difficult.
Whatever was hidden here wasn’t meant to be obvious.
It wasn’t meant to be found by accident.
He had no idea what the treasure actually was.
But it couldn’t be large. Anything bulky would have been discovered within days of Wilson hiding it.
Anything delicate would have disintegrated.
Whatever they were looking for had to be able to survive water, time, and neglect.
Small, then. Durable. Concealable. Hidden in plain sight.
Enzo folded the map and tucked it away, his jaw tightening.
“This is it,” he said quietly.
“What are you thinking?” Kathleen’s voice came back steady, her position close to his side the only comfortable thing in his world right now. Even the soles of his feet itched with the present danger.
“That it’s not where you want it to be,” he said. “It’s where no one would ever bother to look twice.” He gestured with his chin toward the cascading water.
“It’s in the fountain?” Kathleen’s voice went up an octave.
“Yeah,” he said as he tried to figure out the best approach.
“He’s right,” Logan agreed. “It has to be in there. No one would stumble across it if it’s in the water.”
“Great,” Kathleen quipped. “Who’s going to notice a man going into the fountain? I’m sure it happens every day.”
Logan frowned. “She’s right. You won’t have long before security shows up.”
Enzo grinned. “You forget. This is France. If we were inside and had to search a room in the palace, they’d be on me like a shot, but it’s a warm day, and we’re not in the most visited space. We have time. I’ll have time,” he amended. He made it sound easy. He only hoped he was right.
“Wish me luck,” he said, and then he stepped over the low stone edge and into the fountain.
Cold bit instantly, water soaking his jeans, his boots slipping slightly on the slick stone beneath.
The burble of the water grew louder here, vibrating through his chest. He moved carefully, testing his footing, eyes scanning as water spilled down the steps in shimmering sheets.
The X on the map denoted the south set of stairs, so he started there.
He scanned the staircase in front of him, but it was too hard to see through the water.
The sunlight and running liquid cast odd shadows.
There was no way to be sure of what he was seeing without touching it.
He paused. Wilson would have had to put the treasure in here, so it was unlikely it was in the middle of the staircase. He moved to the right side and started feeling the edge where the steps met the wall.
His first pass was instinctive, but he was moving too fast. He checked the obvious places. The edges. The corners. The shallow recesses worn smooth by centuries of water.
Nothing.
His pulse spiked, irritation threading through his focus. Slow down.
Across the gravel ring, movement caught his eye. Mitch pounced. Matteo never saw him coming.
Mitch closed the distance with ruthless efficiency, one hand clamping over Matteo’s mouth while the other drove hard into his midsection.
Matteo folded with a muffled sound, his knees buckling.
Mitch caught him before he hit the ground and dragged him sideways, disappearing with him into a narrow maintenance gap hidden in the hedge, a slice of shadow where trimmed greenery concealed stone and service access.
Mitch appeared seconds later and nodded to Enzo. Taken care of. No reporting back to Rocco now. Enzo forced himself to breathe. It was time to find the treasure. People were starting to point and stare.
Kathleen was suddenly beside him, laughing and pressing her body to his.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.
“People are staring and getting curious,” she finally said as they broke apart. She had a wide smile on her face as she bent down and splashed him.
He stared at her and then glanced around. She was right. Damn. He pasted a grin on his face and laughed, playing along. He pulled her in for a hug and kept searching the waterfall over her head.
“I have to go up the steps,” he said, and then let her go.
He climbed up one step, water crashing against his legs, his hands braced against the slick stone. He felt water hit him in the back, and he turned and shot Kathleen a big smile. She blew him a kiss.
He turned and studied the structure again, not the beauty of it, but its construction. The seams. The places where stone met stone. Where a slight overhang might shield something from view.
He reached behind the curtain of water to his left, where a bit of the stair had broken away and caused a recess in the facade. His hand brushed something unnatural. Metal.
His heart slammed.
Enzo tightened his grip and pulled.
Whatever it was came free easily, small and solid in his palm. Sleek. Cold. About the size of a small cell phone. Too smooth to be stone. It was sealed inside a clear waterproof sleeve, wedged so precisely into the ledge that it had disappeared completely unless you knew exactly where to look.
He didn’t examine it.
Didn’t need to. He knew exactly what it was. He’d used them often enough in his old job.
He shoved it into his pocket and straightened, water streaming from his clothes as he stepped back down to Kathleen. He kissed her and swept her into his arms and then carried her out onto the gravel, the two of them laughing the whole time.
The air shifted. The tourists laughed and wandered on their way. Enzo breathed a sigh of relief.
The woman moved, leaving the hedge line. As she approached, her pace was measured, expression calm, eyes sharp and assessing. Close enough now that Enzo could see the faint tension in her jaw, the way her gaze flicked briefly to the fountain, then to him.
Over the woman’s shoulder, Alex stiffened.
Kathleen inhaled sharply.
The woman stopped a few feet away, the sound of the fountain filling the space between them.
“You found something,” she said, her tone conversational.
Enzo didn’t answer.
The gravel crunched softly as others adjusted their positions, the invisible circle tightening without anyone making a sudden move.
The woman smiled faintly. “That was faster than I expected.”
Enzo met her gaze, his body still damp, his hand relaxed at his side, every muscle coiled.
“Walk away,” he said.
Her eyes flicked past him to the fountain, the hedges, the people who didn’t look like tourists anymore. Then she smiled again.
And didn’t move.