12. Sal

It doesn't take longfor us to pack some things and rent another boat, heading for town. From there, we'll take the train to Marseille.

I have another boat that will take us from Marseille to Cork Harbour in Ireland.

After that…

We're behind enemy lines, to be sure.

Boat, I've decided, is the easiest way to go. It allows us for a little more cover and a little less scrutiny. Bribing people in a port is an ancient art, and one that our families have perfected over time.

I'm proud to say that I'm as good as they get when it comes to sneaking stuff in and out of a port. Much easier than a plane or train, that's for sure.

Interpol, and every police force prior, struggle to keep tabs on the ports.

It's something that I pretty much count on, in this business.

We're halfway across the lake when my eyes turn to Gia.

She's sitting on the bow of the boat, a scarf wrapped around her hair. Dark sunglasses make her look like a movie star, as does the linen outfit she's sporting.

My chest aches at how badly I want her.

However, the longing I feel for her is tempered by a darkness that has been nagging at me, ever since that first time when I asked her to be more.

And she said no.

Clearly, I'm good enough for activities that involve our bodies. The attraction between us is as palpable now as it was when I first saw her.

But I'm beginning to wonder if that's all we have.

Gia doesn't seem interested in more than sex with me. Clearly, our sexual compatibility is off the charts, even with my specific kink.

But beyond that…

She looks forward, gazing out over the lake.

My chest constricts slightly.

Beyond our physical compatibility, I have no idea. I have always assumed that Gia and I would work out as partners. We're perfectly matched in every way.

Now, though, I'm not sure that she feels the same.

We're able to dock in Como easily. From there, the train is a breeze, because in Italy when money changes hands, questions disappear.

It's so easy to travel when you know exactly who to pay to make the journey easier.

Gia, for the most part, is quiet during the trip. The countryside skims by, the landscape becoming increasingly tropical as the train huffs toward the Mediterranean Sea.

"You know, I get that America is big and has a lot of cool landscapes too," Gia murmurs. "But this? This view is something else."

I agree with her.

"You were born in Italy, right?"

She nods. "I was."

"Why does Elio have an accent and you don't?"

Gia raises her eyebrows at me over the rim of her glasses. "You, master of all languages, want to know why I learned to assimilate in America?"

I tilt my head. "I know why I learned to speak so many different languages. I'm asking you why you learned to blend in with one."

"To be fair," she stretches her legs out in the train car, her smile a flirtatious glimmer. "I know how to blend in pretty much everywhere."

That, I'll give her as well. "Fair."

She sighs. "People trust me when they think I'm like them. Being an American, and sounding like one, was more important to me than it was to Elio. He could walk around as the Italian guy and have it work. He needed people to notice him. Needed people to go ‘oh, that's Elio Rossi. The boss.'"

"And you needed people to think you were their best friend."

She winks. "I knew you'd understand."

The remark is confusing. It simultaneously makes me happy and sad. I know that Gia and I are often well in alignment, and her seeing that makes me feel like she sees it too.

But then, her comments earlier make it clear that she either doesn't understand…

Or she doesn't want to.

I sigh. "So. No accent."

"No accent. I thought about doing the accent that actors used. What did they call it? Mid-Atlantic?"

I laugh at that. "The one in all the black and white movies?"

She nods. "Better that than Italian, that's for sure."

"I'd love to hear what you sound like with an Italian accent, Gia."

Gia's gaze turns wistful. You know, I don't even think I remember how anymore."

She looks out the window, and my heart aches.

I wonder if she's unhappy about that.

The train zips along until finally, we stop in Marseille. I hold Gia's hand, escorting her off, and we enter into a world of bright sun, azure seas.

And the criminal capital of Europe.

The air smells like the ocean, with a slight tinge of something burning. Not a clean scent, like the woods.

Like something that shouldn't be burned in the daylight.

It suits.

Marseille is the type of city that has never pretended to be highbrow.

This is the place where crime has reigned supreme for hundreds of years. Corsica, Sicily, Marseille.

The places where law and order is neither lawful nor orderly.

On average, tourism bureaus across the globe do not recommend travel to any of these places, outside of specifically named, heavily ‘safe' destinations, aka places where the staff and the surrounding people are paid quite handsomely off of tourism dollars for their participation.

It's like protecting a cash cow, so you can milk it as often as you want. There's a vested interest in keeping tourists safe in certain areas of all three of these places, but I think Marseille may have given up on that a while ago.

The tourists stay far away from Marseille these days.

Gia sighs. "God, I love it here."

I laugh. "Come on. I have a boat this way."

"Oh. So, you have a boat now too?"

I roll my eyes at her. "Yes. And it's fully stocked, ready to go."

"How often do you use said boat?"

Snorting, I guide her past a particularly nasty pile of garbage. The trash collectors of France are famous for going on strike, and it seems like these ones are no exception.

"I haven't, really. Not since I bought it."

"Ah. I see. And is it a boat? Or a yacht?"

"I guess you'll just have to see when we get there."

"Oh, I can't wait," Gia says.

I have no doubt that she's telling the truth.

Unfortunately, my heart thumps in my chest at her response.

Impressing Gia is fast becoming my favorite hobby.

But I have to keep holding myself back. Gia might be my favorite person to impress.

And all the money in the world won't make her feel the same way about me as I do about her.

* * *

We'rewithin sight of the marina when I feel like we're being followed.

I pause and grab Gia's hand, tucking her closer into my side. She complies easily, and I thank God again that she's so quick to pick up on my cues.

"What is it?"

"Nine o'clock. Someone's been following us for about a mile."

"Oh good. Someone's on our six as well."

Hell.

"Keep moving," I mutter. "Did you manage to pack the Glock?"

"From Prague? No, Sal. I don't have a convenient amount of Albanian thugs that I can bribe here. What about you?"

Ugh. I have a handgun jammed into my left jacket pocket, but reaching for it while Gia is on my right side will be too obvious, and I don't want to tip off the tail that we know they're following us.

However, that doesn't mean I'm completely without weapons. "There's a knife in my belt," I murmur to her.

"Since when do you know how to fight with a knife?"

"Always," I mutter.

She curses. "You have to tell me these things."

"Why?"

"Because then I can keep knives on me too. I can't use them, but you can."

"Noted," I respond.

We keep walking, and out of the corner of my eye, I watch as our tail darts along. "Do you think they're with Interpol?"

Gia snorts. "In this neighborhood? Not likely. I think it's probably…"

She freezes.

Smack in the middle of our path, a man is standing, blocking us from moving forward.

He's tall; probably a little taller than me.

He looks rangy, like he's been stretched over his frame awkwardly, but I have no doubt that he's every bit as strong as I am. His dark hair and flashing eyes remind me of Dino, as does the glower on his face.

He looks a lot like Dino, as a matter of fact, except for the scar that covers one side of his face.

He"s definitely taller than Elio or I, which makes him outrageously tall. Younger, too, if the youthful grin on his face is any indication.

The contrast of his smile with the scar is a little alarming, and his eyes are so dark, they're nearly black.

He's staring at Gia.

Next to me, Gia pulls away from my embrace. I try not to grasp her as she moves forward.

She puts her hands on her hips, and she tilts her head.

"Gabriel," she calls out. "Long time no see."

She says it in flawless French.

"Look who's a polyglot now," I mutter.

"It's too similar to Italian. It was easy," she whispers back.

The man steps forward and responds in French as well. "Gia. Darling. Imagine finding you here."

"Why did that man call you darling?" I hiss.

Gia doesn't respond.

"You know, I never really thought I would find myself back in Marseille," she says breezily. "And yet, here I am, enjoying your fine city again."

"I would have been happy to host you if you would have called."

The words are light, but there's an edge to them that makes my skin prickle. I tuck closer behind her, surveying the surrounding street.

It's remarkably quiet. We're not exactly on a main thoroughfare, but we're also not in a neighborhood.

Yet, somehow, the buildings around us are dead silent.

Movement catches the corner of my eye, and the air leaves my chest in a surprised grunt.

It isn't quiet.

There are people stacked in the buildings around us. I can see their faces crowded against the glass, staring out.

Another movement and I'm definitely closing in on holding Gia.

There are people in the alleyways. People between the buildings. People everywhere, as a matter of fact.

I have no doubt that knives are definitely the tamest weapons they hold.

"Gia," I hiss. "Do you know these people?"

Gabriel, if his name is right, tilts his head. "Gia. Darling. Did you bring a boyfriend to town?"

"No," she answers swiftly. "He's my bodyguard."

I know that the lie is important. I know that it's not true.

Her easy dismissal of our relationship isn't personal, not by any means.

I am her bodyguard.

I am not her boyfriend.

But still, somewhere in my heart, my chest zings with pain.

"A bodyguard. Who walks you through the streets of Marseille. He didn't hire a car?"

At the time, I hadn't wanted to attract attention.

Gia sighs. "We know you would have crashed the car too, Gabriel."

I shoot her a surprised glance.

Had she known this would be a problem?

Gabriel takes a step closer, and some of his crew emerge from the shadows. "Ah well. You know me well enough then, Gia my love."

My love.

Who the fuck was this?

"Gia?" I hiss.

She turns back and smirks at me, and I know that right now, she's playing a part. Gia the spymaster.

"Gabriel, I'd love to introduce you to Sal De Luca. Sal, this is Gabriel."

I don't say anything.

Gabriel chuckles. "Sal De Luca? I thought you were dead. The news has all reported it, you know. Two bodies. A man and a woman in Amsterdam, and the Russians? Well. No bodies to speak of." He shakes his head sadly.

Gia shrugs. "You should know better than to count me out, Gabriel."

"Oh, I definitely should. Now, Gia. Since you are in Marseille, maybe I can show you around. You finally come to visit, I'd say it's about high time you see the city from my eyes, no?"

His eyebrows raise, and I know for sure that's not a good sign.

"We're just headed to leave," I grumble, stepping forward. I speak in English, so I can see if he understands me. "No trouble intended."

"And yet, you are here with Gia Rossi. Trouble personified," he responds.

In flawless, unaccented English.

I look at Gia. She stares at Gabriel. "Let us through, Gabriel."

"You know, Gia. When I last saw you, you said you would call. We had such fun together. But I waited," he reaches for the back of his pants, and he pulls out a gun.

I step in front of Gia, but she edges me slightly to the side.

"I waited and waited. And you know what never happened?"

Gabriel's crew is in full view now. There's no way we're getting out of this without a fight.

"What, Gabriel?" Gia says with a smirk.

"The call."

He has a predatory glint in his eye when he levels the gun at me.

The alley echoes when he clicks the safety off, and I've never heard a louder sound in my entire life. My whole body is trained on him, ready to sprint forward and knock the gun out of his hands, even if I get shot in the process.

Gia is my only priority.

Gabriel shakes his head and points the gun at her.

"Gia," he says softly. "You really should have called."