Chapter 19
Noah caught the railing and pulled himself up and over, between Caro and Konig. He heard the slide and click of a magazine. Konig was reloading.
Fuck that shit.
He yelled as he charged. Slammed into Konig. Bounced him off the wall. They hit the railing together—broke throu gh it—and fell.
A large section of the gallery tore loose and fell with them.
Noah hit the chandelier and clamped his hand onto the big, circular bronze frame as massive pieces of the fractured walkway crashed down to the f loor below him.
Caro. Where…?
Konig glared at him through the glittering refracted light from the chandelier. The man dangled one-handed, right across from Noah, and their struggling and thrashing had set the thing swinging. Slow, heavy sweeps like a ma ssive pendulum.
Konig’s face was bloody and wild. His reddened teeth showed in a sneering grin as he lifted his free hand, which still held the gun. He aimed fo r Noah’s chest—
Boom.
Noah heard a crack from below. He looked down, and saw Konig’s gun hit the floor, bouncing and spinning. Konig screamed.
A loud, wet thud —
Silence. Just the squeak and whine of the iron chain as it swung back and forth.
Konig was sprawled backwards over the horns of the bull, eyes wide and shocked. One horn pierced his chest. The other, his throat. The points gleamed wet and red. The bull’s head dripped blood. Rivulets trickled down over the pale marbl e to the floor.
Noah looked up. Caro was perched on what was left of the gallery, clinging to the statue’s leg to keep from falling. She held the gun in her other hand.
She’d shot Konig. Just in time. And the high gallery had almost completely collapsed, leaving her only a shaky fragme nt to stand on.
“Ca ro!” he called.
Her terrified eyes met his for just a second. She reached out to steady herself. The platform wobbled perilously beneath her. Her fingers patted smooth frescoed wall.
No handhold anywhere. No sa fe way to jump.
Just a long, sheer drop to a bone-sh attering floor.
The gun in Caro’s hand began to shake.
Noah climbed quickly back up until he stood on the chandelier frame. He set the massive iron chain swinging, this time toward Caro. Higher and higher, until he got his hand around the marble elbow of the statue.
The force of stopping the chandelier’s swing tore at his injured shoulder and he cursed wildly. “Fuck!” he yel led. “Come on!”
Caro leaped toward him, arms around his neck, legs ar ound his waist.
Agonizing pain shot through him as he let go of the statue—a second before it toppled forward out of its niche and smashed to the fl oor below them.
They swung free again, swooping back and forth over Konig’s corpse until the movement slowed enough for him to risk getting Caro down. Noah’s bloody hands slipped and slid on the thick chain as he helped her crawl down and dangle from the chandelier. That got her feet close enough to rest on the bull’s back and grab Euro pa’s shoulders.
She slid down to sit on the statue, caught her breath, then eased dow n to the floor.
Caro glanced at Konig’s splayed body and turned away without a word. She sank down to her shaking knees as if her legs wouldn’t ho ld her anymore.
Noah dropped from the chandelier, landing in a deep crouch near her. He pulled her swiftly into his arms and they held each other tightly, h earts pounding.
Noah lifted his head after a moment. “Babe,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion. “I don’t know about you. But I ha ve had enough.”
She looked up, a smile flashing across her lips. “Yo u and me both.”
Another breathless hug to say all the things both of them were too shaken to put into words, and Caro looked up. “What should we do about the gun?”
“What happened to it?” he asked.
“Must have fallen when I jumped on you. Don’t really remember.” Caro picked her way a little unsteadily through the wreckage of the fallen gallery, kicking aside pieces of wood and chunks of broken marble. Found one red sandal, then another. Then the gun. Her evening bag also lay among the wreckage. She pulled it loose and fished in it until she found a p ack of tissues.
Noah took the Glock from her ice-cold fingers and carefully wiped it down with a tissue. A statue of a young girl carrying a large jug on her shoulder stood near the door. The neck of the jug was just wide enough to slide the gun inside.
“We’ll tell Stefano where to find it.” He looked over at Konig. “When we’ll tell him that he has to d eal with…that.”
Caro started to look back at the sprawled corpse, but stopped herself. “Tell Stefano about th e gun? Really?”
“He’s taking the heat for us,” Noah told her. “He saw me throw Lella over the balcony. I asked him to keep my name out of it. He said he would. So I owe him. If he fo llows through.”
“I see,” she murmur ed. “Good man.”
He held out his ha nd. “Shall we?”
“Oh God, yes,” she said fervently.
They clasped each others’ hands and ran toward the passageway.