Chapter 21 Ben
Ben
Lagoverde, Italy
Saturday morning
I’ve seen fugitives facing federal prison look happier to see me than Cybil does right now. I set aside the blow to my ego,
because as much as I’d love for her to look at me the way she did last night when she was tucked into my arms, I need to focus
on why she lied to me.
She freezes midstep in the hallway like I just suggested we elope.
“Heading out?” I ask casually.
Her eyes dart like she’s considering jumping through the nearest window. “Just into town for a coffee.”
“Perfect. Me too.”
Her smile is the kind you give a dentist holding a drill. “Okay, have fun.”
She sidesteps around me like she’s evading a land mine. I let her reach the bottom of the stairs before I follow. Not because
I’m polite—because I’m strategic. She’s hiding something. I pat the ring in my pocket, confident I know just how to make her
talk.
If I can catch up to her. She’s out the door like she can’t get away from me fast enough, and it fuels my determination to
know why.
“Why are you following me?” she snaps over her shoulder once we hit the cobblestones.
“I’m not. I’m going into town.”
Her hair swings off her shoulders as she tosses a scowl back at me. “Shouldn’t you be working?”
“Shouldn’t you?”
Her jaw twitches. One point for me.
Lagoverde is a riot of color and chaos today. The Festival of Masks has turned the quaint town into pure chaos. The narrow
streets are a sea of people navigating street vendors, shopping at market stalls, and snapping photos of the curated displays
of ornate masks in every color and style imaginable.
Cafés have spilled out on the sidewalks, their tables clustered together under awnings providing shade from the bright sun.
We pass another coffee shop and Cybil isn’t slowing down. In fact, she’s weaving through the crowd like—she’s trying to lose me.
I pick up my pace just in time for a street performer in a bone-white mask to block my path and wave glittery ribbons in my
face.
“Mi scusi,” I say.
He twirls. I step left—he blocks. Right—he follows.
“Come on, buddy.”
He points to his hat. I toss in some coins. He bows like I’ve knighted him. When I look up, Cybil’s gone. Classic misdirection.
Rookie mistake.
I start scanning the storefronts and cafés, ignoring the gnawing déjà vu. I’ve chased Cybil before—usually with a snake in
one hand and a lasso in the other—but this feels different. This chase has stakes. Real ones. I’m not giving up until I know
why she lied to me last night . . . and why I found her ring in Ramirez’s office.
Maybe it’s completely innocent.
I want to believe that. Especially after Ruby called this morning.
She sent me a full dossier on Cybil—everything from her birth record to her credit history to the list of guys she’s dated.
I deleted it without opening the file. Told Ruby I wasn’t interested in digging through Cybil’s life unless there were actual
red flags.
There were two.
First, she was hired by Earl Edmond two weeks before she graduated from UNT. Second, she once dated a guy with a user account
on a dark web forum called The Extraction Room. Handle: Toothbutcher.
Honestly, the first one barely qualifies as a red flag compared to the second. And I don’t know what unsettles me more—the
fact that she dated a guy called Toothbutcher . . . or that I’m jealous of a guy called Toothbutcher.
I have no business poking around in Cybil’s dating life, but I felt a little better when Ruby told me she flagged Toothbutcher’s
IP so the bureau could monitor his online activity. That should’ve been the end of it, but I haven’t stopped wondering what
it would’ve been like to date Cybil myself.
I mean, if she was willing to date a demented dentist, I’ve gotta be at least one notch above that on the romantic food chain,
right?
I’m about to turn around when I spot her. She’s perched on the patio of Bottega del Caffé. The old-world coffee shop is all
old stone and rough-hewn beams that look a thousand years old. There’s a stone archway entry, but beyond that the entire sitting
area is uncovered except for the trees and umbrellas.
She’s pretending not to see me as I walk over, but I know she does. Her gaze flicks to mine, and her face drops like she just
found out I’m her blind date.
“Is it your life’s mission to aggravate me?” she mutters as I sit.
“Some people climb Everest. I choose you.”
She shoots me a glare that could blister paint. Her eyes flick to her phone. Then to the street. Then to me. “What are you
doing here, Craig?”
“I appreciate the way you spit out my name. Delivers believability.”
She starts to push back her chair, and instincts kick in. I reach across the table and gently touch her hand. “Wait.”
She looks down where I’m holding her hand, then pulls away like I’ve burned her. “I don’t have time.”
“Please.” I catch the quick flick of her eyes to her phone. She’s stalling. Scrambling for a way out. “It won’t take long. And you haven’t had your coffee.”
Her lips press into a tight line as she stands from her chair. She’s searching for an excuse, but I’m already pulling the
last card I’ve got. I reach into my pocket and hold up the ring.
“And I found this.”
She freezes. For a second, her whole body goes still, her eyes locked on the ring like she can’t believe it’s real. A flash
of emotion passes across her face—something raw and real—but it’s gone in a blink, replaced with a look sharp enough to draw
blood.
“Where did you find that?”
I nod to the chair she just vacated. “Why don’t you tell me?”
She swallows, eyes darting like she’s one second from bolting—and I’m pretty sure the only thing keeping her here is the fact
that I’m still holding her father’s ring. When she opens her palm to me, I know I’m right.
“First”—I hold it up between my fingers—“tell me how you lost this.”
“It slipped off.” The answer comes quickly—too quickly. “Happy?”
“Where?”
“The same place you found it.” Her dark brown eyes flicker with a challenge, a spark of the fire that used to scare me but
that I’ve recently found attractive—which scares me too. “May I have it back?”
There’s a wobble to her voice, and as much as I want to use the ring to my advantage, I can’t. I know how much it means to
her, but that doesn’t mean I won’t push. There’s too much at stake.
“On one condition.”
She exhales sharply. “What?”
“Answer three questions.”
On the street, a parade marches past, filling the café with music. Customers clap and sing in Italian, but all I can focus
on is Cybil—on how she keeps sneaking glances at the door like she’s ready to bolt.
“Three questions,” I repeat when the noise quiets.
She crosses her arms. “Fine.”
“First—do you have a thing for dentists?”
Cybil’s forehead creases. “What?”
“Yes or no?”
“Are you considering a career change?”
“Maybe.”
She rolls her eyes. “No, I don’t have a thing for dentists.”
“What were you doing in Ramirez’s office?”
She doesn’t answer right away. And that tells me everything.
“I was there for a meeting with Mr. Edmond and Mr. Ramirez. I must’ve dropped the ring then.” She lifts her chin.
If she’s telling the truth, why wouldn’t she go back for the ring immediately? Why leave it there? Because she’s lying. The
frustration returns. If she’s covering for her boss, she has no idea what kind of danger she’s in.
“And the cat?”
Her brow furrows.
“You said you climbed out on a ledge to rescue a cat.”
“Oh. The cat.” Her tone is about as convincing as a toddler with frosting on their face saying they didn’t eat the cake. “It
was cute.”
“You don’t like cats.”
“I’m evolving.”
“But you got distracted by a cat on the ledge.”
She glares at me, but before she answers, her attention snags on something over my shoulder. When I go to look back, she speaks
up. “Why does that bother you so much?”
My jaw clenches. “Are you serious, Cybil? You could’ve fallen and broken something—or worse.” My voice is sharper than I intend,
frustration bleeding through. “And I don’t believe for one second that you’d risk your life for a cat.” I hold up her father’s
ring. “But for this? I’d believe that.”
Her eyes flick to the ring and then back to my face. “So what if I did? What business is it of yours if I went back to find
my father’s ring?”
My stomach tightens. Cybil has no idea that her being here—working for Earl Edmond, who’s tangled up with Lorenzo Ramirez—is very much my business. But I can’t tell her that. I can’t tell her anything.
So I lean in and drop my voice. “Because it was reckless.”
That hits her. Her shoulders snap back like I’ve struck a nerve—and I think I have. For a split second, something flickers
across her face. Raw. Wounded. It guts me more than I expect and I immediately regret my words.
“Cybil . . .” The truth is sitting on the edge of my tongue, but I bite it back. If I say too much, I risk everything—including
her safety. I can’t do that. “You’re smart. Too smart to be working for someone like Edmond.”
Her fingers rub the bare spot on her thumb. Then she shifts—just slightly. A barely there shake of her head, like she doesn’t
believe me. I want to make her believe, but then I catch her eyes drifting toward the counter.
A man stands there now—light blue linen shirt, clean haircut, scanning the space like a guy who’s trained to notice exits.
Posture’s wrong for a tourist. All awareness, no chill.
Every instinct in my body buzzes.
My mind flashes back to yesterday—to the man watching me in the piazza. The one I caught watching Cybil later. I couldn’t
get a good look at him then, so I can’t tell if this is the same guy.
Rook said they didn’t have anyone tailing me. Maybe it was the truth. Maybe it wasn’t. After last night’s conversation, I’d
be an idiot to think I’ve mitigated his suspicions. Which means this guy might not be here to watch me. He might be watching
Cybil.
The barista behind the counter calls out an order. Cybil stands. So do I.
But she holds up a hand, stopping me. Her cheeks are flushed now, pink and guarded. “May I have my ring back, please?”
I hesitate—but only for a second. Then I press it into her palm.
Her fingers close around it tightly. Like she needs to feel the weight of it. Like it’s more than a ring. She doesn’t say anything else. Just steps past me and picks up her order without a glance back.
I watch her go, shoulder brushing mine as she passes, and it takes everything I’ve got not to follow her out right then.
Five seconds later, the man at the counter leaves.
I wait two more, then follow.