Chapter 19 #2
“We’ll figure it out.” Even as he said it, he felt her hand slide into his. He glanced down, then to her.
“You keep saying that and…we do.” Uncertainty dashed through her expression.
Instinct said to let her hand go, let her go.
But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Because…he liked this.
Liked not being alone. Liked not being alone with her.
Though, he shouldn’t because there was no way they could have a future together.
They were from entirely different worlds.
Sometimes, the wealth she existed in felt like another planet.
“This your way of making sure I don’t escape?”
“Whatever it takes,” she said with a rueful grin as they reached the airport. “Do we go inside the terminal? I know—”
“Negative. Too many eyes, both technological and human. We’ll just find the plane on the tarmac. Assuming you know either the pilot or plane by sight.”
“Papà and Zio use two different pilots,” Cove said with a crisp nod. “I know them both. The airstrip is on the east side, but that whole airstrip is surrounded by a fence with barbed wire. There is a gate on the far side that does not have it.”
“How on earth do you remember a detail like that?”
Cove shrugged. “That gate sits on a curve. One time there was an accident between a box truck and sports car with the top down. I remember thinking how lucky the sports car was that they hit the gate and not the barbed wire.”
“Fair.” Finally, buildings fell away and the land opened up to a flat plain. Dillon had never been more grateful for a clear line of sight. “Lead us to the gate, and we’ll find a place to hunker down until seven.”
Another half hour had them climbing the stone wall on the east side of the airport, where sheep were sleeping, most laid out but a few remained standing.
He and Cove ducked behind what appeared to be a transformer, from the metal box and thrum of electricity through it.
From this vantage, they could see the terminal, airstrip, and planes.
Homes, a working farm, and other walled plats with cows and more sheep surrounded the area.
“We should be out of sight here.” Sitting in the grass, back to the box and legs bent, he rested his forearms on his knees. For the first time in the hour-plus escape from the house, he let himself relax.
Cove shrugged out of her backpack and put it between her spine and the transformer, then stretched out her legs and checked the scrape on her arm.
“That okay?”
“I have had worse,” she muttered and leaned her head back.
“Somehow,” Dillon said, “I cannot imagine that.”
She lifted her head and gave him a frown. “Why not?”
“Because you’re…Cove Galtieri, fashion model and—”
“Former fashion model.” She wrinkled her nose. “How do you know about that?”
Tipped his hand there, hadn’t he? “Overheard some convos in Paris and saw a photo of you modeling in your dad’s office.” He shrugged. “So, you did the strut—the walk.”
“Catwalk.”
“That.”
Wrinkling her nose, she tilted her head. “I was not born on the runway, even though my mamma modeled too.”
“See? That’s the same thing as being born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”
“Oh, santo cielo! Tell me you are not one of those.”
“One of what?”
“People who have a grudge against the rich, against my family.”
“The only grudge I have is related to my dad’s disappearance.”
A sheep and her lamb moved across the yard toward the wall, drawing their attention.
Far from the pulsing pop music that drowned the crashing of waves, they sat in the relative quiet.
With little activity on the airstrip other than airport vehicles moving from one building to another, they could hear the rustle of sheep moving through the grass.
“I know it seems like we have it easy because of the villa,” Cove said, watching the ewe and sheep, “but it has not always been good. When Nonno died, Papà inherited a crumbling estate that was in complete disarray. Papà had a degree in business and Mamma in corporate finance.”
Dillon plucked a long blade of grass and stripped it, playing with it as he listened, understanding he’d made her defensive. “Translates well to saving an estate.”
“Very well,” she agreed. “They worked hard and a lot. They taught me to do the same. So, while I walked the runway and had some fame, they taught me to save, invest.”
It did surprise that her parents had degrees and put them to work, but it also—more importantly—impressed him. Told him where Cove got her drive and determination. “Hey, sorry for making you defensive about your family. That wasn’t my intent.”
“Then what was?” She squinted at him. “The words that come from our mouths mirror what is in our hearts.”
“Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh,” he whispered, smirking as he twisted the grass around his finger. “No idea what verse that is, but my mom must have said that a million times.”
“She sounds like a very smart woman.”
Dillon nodded solemnly. “I know this”—he motioned in a circle—“me going off to find Dad, upset her. Stressed her.” Woof, that was a bucket of raw ache there. “I hate that.”
“So, why did you do it?”
“Had to,” he said, tossing away the grass, irritated she’d even ask. Wondering if she blamed him, saw him in a bad light for that. “Nobody else was doing it, and I know he’s alive. If you don’t believe me or blame me—”
“No.” Her hand landed on his. “That was not an accusation. Really, I simply want to understand more about you. Why you thought it was the right thing.”
Dillon let himself look at her, finding affirmation of what she said, liking the warmth of her touch.
“Because it was the right thing to do. I hate hurting her—Mom’s tough.
So smart. But… I just couldn’t sit there anymore, watching her cry all day.
Killed me to see what it was doing to her—she didn’t think I saw.
But…” He gave a cockeyed nod. “I saw. The red eyes. Heard her sniffles in the bathroom. Something had to be done.” When only the lowing of sheep answered his raw words, he stretched.
“Does she know where you are?”
He shook his head. “If she knew, any of the three-letter agencies would know. If they knew…” He bobbed his head. “I’d get picked up and Dad would die.”
“That is an enormous, unrealistic amount of pressure you have put on yourself.”
Dillon met her gaze, loving how the moonlight struck her gold irises. “You would know something about that, what with trying to prove your dad’s innocence.”
“I think there is a subtle difference between our situations.”
“Yeah?”
“I have been very open with Papà about what I have been doing, all the research and calls.”
Ah, he got her point—the insinuation that he was doing things in the dark. In other words—he was on the lam. She was in the open. Didn’t know why that stung, but it did. Doubt her dad was excited about her efforts. “Bet he did not like that.”
“No,” she said with a rueful smile. “There is a reason they call me Lupina, ‘little wolf.’”
“What reason is that?”
“I nearly jeopardized my whole future when I punched Arabella Abarough during A-levels for calling my mother a name and insinuating very ugly things about her.”
Dillon coughed a laugh. “Legit?” He angled to see her better, this information putting a new spin on the woman next to him.
Had to admit, he’d pay to see her punch someone.
No…no, he wouldn’t. Because Cove…she had this gentleness, this refinement about her.
Like Mom. And her going all Lara Croft on someone would dismantle that.
“I am very fierce about defending those I love. Zio Santi calls me cunning,” she said with a shrug.
“You’re a lot like my mom—and that’s actually a compliment.” What would Mom think of Cove?
“I hope I get to meet her.”
Heart stuttering at those words, Dillon considered her. Understood that inference. What she was saying. Hadn’t he just decided they didn’t have a future together? They’d known each other three days and he was considering bringing her home to Mom?
You have lost your freakin’ mind.
“Get some rest, Gelato.” He’d considered using her family nickname, but one—that felt like it belonged to them; and two—he didn’t like to think of her as a wolf, though well aware of her courage and cunningness. To him, she was sweet… “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”