Chapter 7
Orvieto, Italy
Anger at this man warred with her anger at whoever had attacked her home. She was not sure which she despised more, now that she found herself trapped in the tunnels with the one man who had the ability to steal her breath and infuriate her at the same time.
His crushing grip defied her will not to cry out.
Her mind wrestled with the fact this handsome, capable man, whose death grip was clammy, was the same man who’d pinned her to the wall at the Ritz and had her fantasizing for the last six months about the kiss he’d withheld.
He had infected her dreams and distracted her from finding out who set up Papà.
They’d moved but fifteen feet from the door, his every step stiff and halting.
How could this man be scared? It seemed such a small thing for this larger-than-life man.
“Just a little farther…” It plucked at something deep in her, this visceral fear of his.
Made her wonder if there was a story behind his claustrophobia when he had seemed so utterly fearless.
That wondering distraction made her lose count of her paces.
Had to be close… She crouched as she advanced, arm extended, tracing the volcanic stone wall at thigh level.
Somewhere around here… When he resisted moving again, she reminded herself to keep talking.
Hoped she hadn’t forgotten the way. “I left a…” It was here somewhere.
Finally, she found the lip of the natural ledge.
Oh good. She’d started worrying her mental map had been skewed by time.
“Now, where…” Her fingers tipped the cold metal. “Aha.”
She lifted the torch. Now, the real miracle would be if the battery still worked. She slid her finger along its length. Light flared through the tunnel like a flaming beacon. Oh, thank heaven!
He groaned and she glanced back, realizing once more that she had failed to warn him—this time about the light. Which was only fair since he’d broken into Papà’s office, into their home…
After looking in both directions, he grimaced. “Maybe it was better without the flashlight.”
“Remember,” she bit out, “you would not be stuck down here if you hadn’t—”
“Yeah, yeah. I got the point.”
Irked at his gruff words, she clenched her jaw. She’d given the guy the benefit of the doubt, despite not knowing a thing about him. “I cannot believe you are afraid of the dark.”
“I’m not.”
She scoffed. “If you are going to break into people’s homes and want to get away unscathed, you have to toughen up.
” And yet, she was not untouched by his very real panic over the claustrophobic conditions.
“It’s safe down here. I played in these tunnels as a kid.
Clearly, I made it out alive.” She might not be callous, but she couldn’t resist taunting him. “Want to pinch me to be sure?”
Those brown eyes darted to her and away, his jaw muscle jouncing beneath stubble that seemed more pronounced in the scampering shadows.
Wow, he was acting just like Vicenzo when they’d gotten trapped in the well as children. It pulled on her heartstrings. She angled toward him and reached out. “Look, I—”
“Where does this lead?” The barked manner of his question startled her, and his gaze skipped around, as if not knowing where to look. No, not wanting to meet her gaze. To look at her and own his fear. “How far?”
Fighting the urge to snap at him, she noticed something shift in his gaze. A type of…regret. Over his harsh words? Had he realized his fear was warping his mood? Well, then. Maybe she would let it go, especially considering the tremor in his words.
As for his question about how far, she worried he would not like the answer. Worried what it might do to this already-tense guy. Because they would be down here for a while…a long while.
“That question too hard for you? Thought you knew these tunnels.”
Surprised at his sharp tone again, she had to remind herself this was likely nerves talking. Barking. Whatever. “I will pretend you did not just bite the hand that’s leading you, the hand whose home you invaded.”
His expression tightened.
“And before I answer, how about you tell me your name?”
His brow furrowed. “Why?”
Santo cielo, he was hard work. “Because when I lead you out of here, I want to be sure I have the name of the man who broke into my papà’s office to give the authorities.” Her heart thundered a little at the threat. Or maybe because he was being so difficult.
He cocked his head, brow diving to that broken nose. “Are you—”
“Serious?” She nodded with a sigh. “I am. However”—she extended her hand—“I’m Cove Galtieri.”
“I know who you are,” he grumbled.
“Missed the point, Dark Eyes.” She nodded to him. “Your name is…?”
He seemed to consider her, and in a way, the guy looked as if she were asking him to sacrifice his life. “Achilles.”
She laughed. “There is no way that is your name.” But when he just kept scowling at her, the amusement fell away. “Seriously?”
“How far?” he bit out.
Who named their kid Achilles? “The tunnels are long,” she finally conceded. “Quite long. They lead to the underground beneath the old city, which—while old—is still very much active and populated. Once there, we will have options.”
Achilles looked down the direction they would head, where light succumbed once more to the pitch black. “How far?”
“Several kilometers.”
He muttered something. “How long will it take to reach it?”
The popping of those rifles peppered the night again.
Cove froze, peering up. “What are they doing?”
“You don’t want to know,” Achilles said, then nodded down the passage, away from the house. “And we don’t want them to find us down here. So, how long till the end?”
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she hated the only answer she had. “I do not know,” she conceded. “I have never gone all the way to the end.”
“You don’t know?” His eyes widened as he craned his neck toward her. “Wait, that means you don’t even know if it’s intact!”
“What I do know is that the underground city is not only intact but it’s a tourist attraction.” Even though parts were crumbling and unstable, but no need to mention that. “Then however long it takes us to work through the maze of partially lit passages to the surface.”
He slumped back against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So that’s what, an hour? Two?”
“Guessing somewhere in between. Hard to judge. Orvieto was built on a large tufa plateau—a stone plateau formed from volcanic rock, separated from the surrounding area, so there will be a fair amount of climbing to reach it.”
“If you’ve never gotten that far, how do you know the tunnel leads there?”
“Vigneto Corallo was built hundreds of years ago on the site where some people escaped the city when the French laid siege to it.” She shrugged. “It’s all legend. I can’t prove it.” When he didn’t answer, but stayed there, looking at the ground, her own uncertainties screamed louder. “I know—”
“Fine.” He straightened and exhaled heavily. “Let’s do this.”
Cove didn’t miss that he balled his fist as he shifted in front of her. Had to admire the guy for facing his fear head-on. When he started moving, she hustled behind him, aiming the flashlight on the path. “D-do you want—” She crashed into him like the brick wall he was. “What’s wrong?”
Looking down, he said nothing. His breathing seemed shallow. “I…I can’t.”
Claustrophobia again.
It tugged at her heart. “So we go back.”
“No,” he ground out. Flexing his fists.
“Okay.” Cove eased around him, caught his hand, and placed it on her shoulder. “Keep your eyes on the path at your feet. Not focusing on the walls will help your mind shift around the fear.”
“I’m not a child.”
Giving him a sidelong look, she let him try to save his pride. “You helped me get out of the house. I help you get out of the tunnels. Deal?”
Shots echoed aboveground, muted by volcanic rock ensconcing them.
“Yeah. Keep moving.” That sounded pretty forced.
But she complied. Faced front and started walking, slow and steady, his hand never leaving her shoulder as they walked in silence for a good ten minutes before a distant noise scampered from behind. Pulling in a breath, she stopped and glanced back.
Head down, he slammed those dark eyes into her. “Keep going.”
“Is that…?” Her mouth went dry, wondering what had happened to the guests, what would happen if the shooters came in the tunnels.
Achilles gave a slow nod. “I know it’s normal to be buried underground, but it’s usually after you die. I’d rather not do it in reverse.” A half smirk. “Please.”
“Right.” When she turned back to the darkness, Cove felt her own courage falter. What if she was wrong? What if—
“Hey.” His deep voice was husky. “You’re doing good. Just keep moving, right?”
“How could you possibly know I—”
“Tension in your shoulder.”
Disbelieving the marvel that he was, Cove resumed walking. With a sniff of laughter, she shook her head as her shoes crunched rocks. “You don’t miss anything, do you?”
“I miss the light.”
She breathed a laugh.
“And air. Air’s good. And not having to duck my head to walk.”
“Complain much?” she retorted, then rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised those shoulders of yours are clearing with the huge ego.”
“Only because I’m walking cockeyed.”
She laughed, but then sobered. Reminded herself he’d broken into Papà’s office. And he’d been in Paris… Not just Paris but at the dinner party. “Why are you chasing my papà?”
A dozen or more steps echoed with nothing more than a grunt, his steps clumsy as he tripped or hit something.
“You were in Paris and now our home. Why?”
More silence from him.
Cove stopped. “I am not moving any farther until you tell me—”
Thud.
The skitter of voices behind them silenced Cove. Made her again peer back in that direction.
“We can stand here,” he said, “have it out, let them catch up and kill us…or we can table this until we’re safe.”