Chapter 5 #2
Mama was plenty loud enough where she was, so Daniel swallowed back his nausea and picked up the spoon.
As he’d wrested the knife from one of the attackers, and there had been a disorienting moment when the man grabbed his wrist, just above his glove, and everything had winked away into another vision.
Daniel assumed he had looked through the eyes of their attacker. He’d seen a sword, carried by someone in medieval costume. But the guy had his hand on a gun hidden beneath a long cloak. He had then turned his attention to his real target.
The guy had focused on a kid next—a young girl who wore some kind of pixie costume. Some kind of a fantasy exhibition where people dressed in costumes and staged mock duels to entertain the tourists?
It was the prurient anticipation and excitement the man felt that set Daniel’s teeth on edge. He felt ashamed, as if he’d had those feelings himself.
Damn. He didn’t want this ability. Who would? Who would want to be overwhelmed by someone else’s emotions, especially from someone that depraved?
When he’d finally yanked himself out of the vision, the man had still been gripping his wrist. Daniel had pulled him in while kicking out as hard as he could.
After that, with his head splitting and his vision blacking out from the pain, he could only go to a defensive stance and hope for the best. It was blind luck that they had run off.
Blind. There was a spasm behind his eyes as he laughed at his own joke.
Mel cleared her throat. His laughter had probably been disconcerting.
He had to make some attempt at the soup or someone would cart him off to the pronto succorso or whatever.
He got the spoon into the bowl and some of the soup to his mouth, then reached carefully for his glass.
He needed take the edge off this headache before it overwhelmed him, but the glass was nearly empty. Mel poured him another.
“Good idea,” she said, pushing the plate of crostini to touch his other hand. “I’ll get another bottle. Keep eating.”
Daniel smiled, hoping she believed he was only a bit addled instead of on the verge of collapse.
He dug into the soup again, a rich beef broth chock full of pasta, and the crostini were covered with some kind of a meat paste.
It tasted great, and he realized with some relief the prosecco and crostini had eased his nausea.
“We lost our lamantinos, didn’t we?” he said, remembering the juicy sandwich.
Mel laughed. It wasn’t that great, full-throated laugh of hers, but he had made her laugh. “Close. But it’s lampredotto,” she corrected. “Afraid so. Maybe next time.”
“Next time,” he echoed, finishing off the soup.
“Is the prosecco helping?” Mel asked.
“Something is. How about you? You fell pretty hard.”
Before Mel could answer, the young man, Gino, showed up, and spoke with Mel in Italian. Daniel really liked the language, especially the way Mel spoke it. It was very sensual.
The wine was taking the edge off the damn headache, but if he drank until the pain was completely gone, he’d have a whole new set of problems. He really did not want to start using alcohol as a treatment for his condition.
“Eat,” Mel demanded.
The whatever-it-was that Gino had placed in front of him smelled amazing. He sliced off one piece, then another, then tracked down a bit of roasted tomato to go with it, and, miraculously, his glass was full again.
“Not too much, though. I have to be able to at least get you to the car.” Mel said. “It’s only one block away, but I can’t exactly roll you there.”
He felt a spasm of fear. The train. He looked up at what he could see of the windows and realized it was dark.
He knew they weren’t going to intercept the group from the conference out here, not with him in this shape.
And he remembered, whatever it was he saw happen to Francesca, to the train that just Francesca was on, had happened in daylight.
It was a relief, but his head throbbed, and he took a gulp of wine.
Warm fingers patted his arm, then just rested there. He looked at Mel. Some guy had pulled a knife on her, yanked her to the ground and threatened her life, and here she was concerned about him. She had to be the most resilient person he had ever met.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?” Mel said.
“For trying.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. No protests. No questions. No misunderstanding. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Saving my life,” she replied. “I think.”
“He was only after your backpack.”
“He was dead set on getting it. Who knows what he would’ve done?” she said.
“I didn’t—”
“Say ‘you’re welcome’?” Her fingers gripped his arm. “You’re right. You didn’t.”
He chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
“Drink some more. I can see your headache from here.”
“Mangia!” Mama yelled from the stove.
Mel laughed. “I think she does that every once in a while just for the ambiance.”
Daniel managed to eat some more. “Gotta admit. It’s good,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and willing the food to stay down.
“The wine’s working,” Mel said.
“Yeah. I should invest in a case or two, the way things are going.”
Mel made a thoughtful sound, and Daniel realized he’d probably said too much. But it was difficult to think clearly.
“Getting back to you saving my life, what was that you used out there? Some kind of martial arts?”
“Aikido. I got in some practice sessions while I was in Japan not too long ago,” he said. “Never thought I would need to use it in the real world, though. It’s a purely defensive art.”
“I’ve heard of it. When did you learn it?”
“When I was thirteen. I was rather skinny and a science nerd.”
“And damn good-looking, I assume?” she teased.
He laughed. “No such luck. Total pizza face.”
Mel snorted.
Gino’s cheerful voice interrupted as he came to check on them. “Everything is good, yes?”
Daniel choked down more of the chicken and gave a thumbs up while Mel carried on a rapid-fire conversation that was way over his head, but he was pretty sure she was talking about getting the car.
“You can’t walk there by yourself,” he protested. “Those guys—”
“It’s okay. Gino is coming with me. His mama insists. You stay here and finish that bottle. I told them the medication for your headaches is in Bologna, and that for now we’ll make do with the prosecco. But we need to get you into the car while you can still move. You can still move?”
“I think so.”
“Then I’ll be right back.”
Daniel frowned. He was lucky that Mel had accepted the whole migraine story.
But the headaches, whatever the cause, were lasting longer and getting worse.
He spent the next few minutes finishing the chicken and sipping at the prosecco.
Too much and he wouldn’t walk out of here, and might revisit Mama Rosetta’s wonderful food in a most unflattering way.
He could tell when Mel returned even before he saw her. The hum of conversation changed, and smiling faces followed her progress between the tables.
Daniel pushed himself to his feet, found his balance, and waited for the restaurant to stop spinning.
“Engine’s running. Gino is guarding her for me. But they won’t let me pay them.”
“No, no pay!” Mama came over, carrying a bright shopping bag, and pushed it at Mel. “You come again someday. Sit. Eat lots of food. Then you pay. This was nothing.”
“But the wine,” Daniel protested.
“We have much. Is Italia!” This brought a laugh from the patrons in the restaurant.
“Grazie. Grazie mille, Mama Rosetta,” Mel offered and was swept into a warm hug.
“Yes, grazie,” Daniel added, staying out of reach.
Mel took the proffered bag and grabbed her pack. Daniel remembered his satchel and carefully leaned to pick it up. All he had to do now was get to the car outside without falling on his face.
As he walked carefully between the tables, Daniel realized that the customers were making comments to him in Italian as he passed.
“What are they saying?” he asked.
“They think you did well to knock those men on their asses. Those types usually pick on people who are pushovers. You weren’t.” She then looked up at him. “I agree.”
“Oh.” He nodded and smiled. “Grazie. Grazie mille.”
He was relieved when he made it back to the Mini. He tossed in his satchel, collapsed into his seat, put his head back, and sighed with relief.
She didn’t lower the top this time. “I gave up driving under the stars in deference to your poor sore head,” Mel said as she slid her pack in. “I hope you appreciate the sacrifice.”
“Thank you.”
Their departure from the café caused a stir, with Mama Rosetta standing on the curb, flapping her apron at them, and everyone waving as if they were dear old friends.
As Mel drove down the street, Daniel discovered that they had only been a stone’s throw from the train station the whole time. He watched it slide by with a sense of dread.
Mel touched his arm. “Even if they are in there, you’re in no shape to persuade them of anything.”
He sighed, closing his eyes to block out the twirling lights of the city. “I know.”
“You still haven’t told me why you were trying to stop them from going on that train.”
“And you still owe me a hangover cure,” he said.
“All right, but if I give you that, you—”
Daniel’s phone rang. “Hold that thought.”
He fished it out of his pocket. Grace. Good. He was eager to hear about the experiment at Rock House Apiary. “Hey.”
“Not too late over there, I hope.”
“Not at all. Did it work?”
“They said the results were amazing. And Jamie checked everything out herself. Apparently, our patties are going to work.”
“The ones on ours are stronger? More food and brood?”
“More everything. A couple are even getting ready to swarm,” Grace said.
“So soon?”
“Yep.” He could hear the relief in her voice. “They were very pleased, and Jamie was thrilled.”
“Better than I expected,” Daniel said. “I’ve been worried about the next steps and how time intensive those patties are,” Daniel looked over at Mel, who was listening, of course. “Just chew on this. Yeast is a living organism.”
“I know.”
Grace would understand the reference. Her gift gave her the ability to manipulate and increase the nature of plants—living organisms—with her gift.
Heal them, make them grow, make them more potent.
They had been using pollen from plants that Grace altered to create their experimental pollen patties, but if they were going to make a real difference, they needed a less labor-intensive process.
A way for nature to take over once she got the ball rolling.
“Grace?” he prompted when she didn’t answer.
That snapped her out of whatever had distracted her. “Yes. That might work.”
Daniel smiled. She understood. “It might.”
“So, are you out actually enjoying Italy tonight?”
“Absolutely. Lots of great food and wine.” He looked at Mel. “And good company.”
“Well, have fun. Get home in one piece.”
“I will. And let the powers that be know I’ll visit them when I get home.”
“The what?” There was a pause, then, “I am going to kill that husband of mine.”
“No. He was right to tell me. I need to go in,” Daniel admitted.
“Something’s going on that you’re not telling me. Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine. Tell you all about it when I get home.”
“All right. Take care.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Daniel put away the phone and punched the air.
“That looks like good news,” Mel said.
“Yeah. While you’re trying to expose Meyer, we’re trying to build more resilient bees.”
“Must be great to have your sister involved,” Mel said.
“It is. You have any brothers or sisters?”
“Nope. Only child.”
“Well, Grace is pretty amazing,” he said. “Unless her big-sister mode kicks in. Then she can be bossy as hell.”
Mel smiled. “I’m sure there are drawbacks. But on the drive here you mentioned your grandma. She’s involved in your life, right? Granny something?”
Daniel was reminded, once again, that Mel was a reporter and he had probably said too much. “Yeah, she’s sort of…involved.” He slid back down, closing his eyes.
“Whoa. Don’t slide off into dreamland until you open whatever it is Mama Rosetta put in that bag. I can smell it from here, and I want some.”
Daniel remembered the colorful shopping bag that was sitting next to his feet. It did smell really nice—yeasty and sweet. Mel switched on the map light, and he could see a large and lumpy foil-wrapped package, plus two bottles of sparkling water and napkins.
Daniel fished out the foil package and put the bottles in the cup holders.
“Open, open, open,” Mel chanted. “I think I know what it is!”
Peeling the foil away, he revealed a small mound of what looked like cream puffs drizzled with chocolate.
“Bongo!” Mel made frantic grasping signals with her fingers.
Daniel looked at the puffs. “Don’t you mean bingo?”
“Nope. Bongo.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s what the Fiorentini call them, and they are to die for. Gimme!”
Daniel kept the pile away from her and plucked one of them off.
“Hangover remedy.”
“You willing to lose that hand? No one gets between me and my bongo, Dr. Woodruff.”
“Yes, well, Melissa, you owe me a hangover remedy.”
She grimaced. “Fine. One shot of Fernet-Branca in a double espresso. It will either kill you or revive you. Gimme!”
“What the heck is Fernet-Branca?”
“Italian bitters. It’s got like all these herbs and spices in it. Something in the mix works. Now, gimme!”
“Thanks.” Without thinking, he held the puff out to her and their fingers brushed.
Daniel’s lips tasted like prosecco. His fingers spanned Mel’s waist and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss and making her dizzy.
Dammit. I don’t want to see this.
His mouth slid into Mel’s hair and he breathed deeply.
“You smell like honey and meadow grass,” he said. His fingers slid further up her back, sending warmth curling through her. “Melissa.”
Shut it off now.
“Caffè con zucchero and chocolate,” he muttered.
Shut it OFF!