My goodness, what had she done? Liz paced back and forth, hands in her hair. She kept biting her index finger’s nail, a habit she had thought she had broken a long time ago. The urge to fall back into her old ways flared up from time to time, whenever she was becoming too stressed out, but she could always rein it in. Now, she hardly realized what she was doing.
She shouldn’t have let him leave like that. She shouldn’t have lied to him. All it did was mess up the incredible dinner they were having. She’s been enjoying herself, which wasn’t something she was used to. With Hunter, they spoke about normal things, went through the routine of the dinner as a precursor to the true purpose of them having sex. It had obviously been shallow and meaningless. But with Michael, she could gladly sit there and talk for ages, and she would have been truly happy.
Sighing, Liz sank into the couch next to the painting. That was the thing about him. He made her happy. Really happy. Not just with the endless orgasms, but with his smile and his laughter and his jokes. The fact that he was never too afraid to put his feelings out there. Unlike her. She was too much of a coward to admit that she was in love with him. She was much too afraid for them both to tell him the truth—that Hunter was watching her every move.
Liz shot to her feet again. It was for his own sake, right? She didn’t tell him tonight for the same reason she hadn’t told him anything this whole time. It was for his sake. She didn’t know what Michael would do if he found out, and she wasn’t willing to risk his safety. Right, right. Michael could be mad at her all he wanted, but soon she would be on a plane back to America and Hunter would be right there with her. She would remove the danger, remove the curse on their existence. He would be safe.
But that didn’t ease her shame. She hated lying to him.
No, she shouldn’t have lied. She couldn’t possibly leave without setting everything straight with him, as he had with her. She couldn’t leave until she told him that she loved him, too. Liz didn’t think she would be able to live with herself if she didn’t.
Liz turned to the door. She was almost out before she stopped herself. If Hunter was still watching, he must have seen when Michael left. He would have known something went wrong with them. He would think they were done and over with. He would think Michael was out of the picture now.
He would leave him alone.
Her hand fell away from the knob. Her heart was on fire, as if it would burn a hole right through her chest, but she couldn’t let herself leave. Slowly, she backed away from the door, sinking into the chair Michael vacated not so long ago. Her head pounded.
Liz didn’t want to think about it anymore. A huge part of her wanted to go after him, no matter how far he had gotten. The other part of her felt she needed to be right here, far away from him. She had already said her goodbyes. There was nothing holding her here anymore.
Not Alessandro. Not the painting. Not Michael.
Someone was playing drums in the distance. Why anyone want to do that at such an ungodly hour was beyond him. Groaning, Michael pried his eyes open, noticing they were wet. With tears? Had he been crying over Liz in his sleep?
The drumming grew louder. Michael winced when a bright light appeared before him, making the drumming painfully loud. With a jolt, he realized the drumming was all in his head. He cringed as the pain increased tenfold and the light grew closer.
“You took your time waking up.”
Michael struggled to see past the glare of the flashlight. A shadow stood behind it, then two, then three. Finally, his eyes focused, and all the silhouettes merged into one. Something was running down the left side of his face. Michael had a feeling it was blood, and that the wetness over his eyes had something to do with the head wound causing his killer headache.
“Who… what happened?”
The shadow drew closer. Michael squinted until the shadow developed a face. It was someone he was sure he knew. From somewhere…
“I’m judging by the look on your face you’re either in a lot of pain or you can’t figure out who I am.” The man laughed. “Or maybe it’s both.”
He reached for something to the side and pulled it toward him. The grinding sound it emitted had Michael gritting his teeth in pain. It was a chair, Michael saw, and the man plopped down into it. “I’ll give you some time to figure it out.”
“You hit me upside the head.”
“That I did. With this trusty fellow.” The man picked up a metal pipe. “I tried not to hit you too hard. I didn’t want to give you too much of a concussion. Didn’t want to risk you not waking up.”
“I’ll make sure to send a thank-you card,” Michael muttered.
The man chuckled. “Funny. I hate that I’m laughing, but I can’t help it. You’re funny. I’ll save this bad boy for later.” He put the pipe aside. “There’s plenty of time to make sure you don’t ever wake up again.”
Michael’s heart sank. “What do you want?”
“Try to remember this face, Michael Davidson. Where do you know me from?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember anything.”
“Hopefully, this will jog your memory. We don’t know each other but we do have one thing in common: Elizabeth Harley.”
With the throbbing pain and the blood clouding his vision, it took him a moment for everything to connect. “Hunter.”
“In the flesh.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I’ve already said too much. I’ll let you figure the rest out by yourself.”
He began to rise. “Wait!” Michael said quickly, causing his tender head to be on the verge of exploding. “What do you want with me? Why are you doing this? And, where are we?”
“Too many questions for me to answer right now, Michael. Just sit back and wait for your time to come again.”
He retreated into the shadows, switching the flashlight off. Michael squinted to see, but couldn’t make out a thing. Along with the incessant drumming, all he heard was the opening and closing of the door. He knew that Hunter was gone.
And he was all alone. In the dark.
God knows where.
Liz woke two hours earlier than she needed to the next morning. A part of her hoped Michael would be back, to bring her to the airport or to at least give her one last kiss before he was off to Milan. She packed quickly with all that in mind, not wanting to waste a single second if he did happen to show up. An hour went by and nothing.
But then, there was a knock on the door. Liz ran towards it. “Michael, I—”
“Good morning, signora.”
Liz blinked in bemusement. “Gabriele. What are you doing here?”
Gabriele, the concierge, had his hands clasped behind him. He nodded respectfully at Liz. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“You didn’t. Is there something wrong?”
“There is a letter for you. Since you are checking out in a few hours, I wanted to give this to you in person, so you don’t miss it.”
“Oh, thank you.” She took the letter from his hand. “Did you see who dropped this off?”
“No, signora. The person did not identify himself. However, he did say that the letter was from Signore Michael.”
“Michael?” It was a struggle not to contain her excitement. “Alright, thank you, Gabriele.”
“Always a pleasure, signora.”
As soon as the door was closed, Liz rushed to her bedroom, sinking onto the mattress. Impatiently, she ripped into the letter.
She read the letter. Then she read it again. Then, rising to her feet, she went over it again and again, until she was pacing the room and biting her nails until they bled.
Hunter had Michael.
The panic set in first. For a second, she didn’t know what to do, and a hysterical whine tore from her throat. But when she heard herself, she felt pathetic. She snapped back to reality and capable Liz was back.
She made a grab for her phone. Marcus answered on the second ring. “Elizabeth, I was just about to call you. Have you seen Michael? He isn’t picking up his phone and we leave in an hour. I assume he’s with you.”
“No, he’s not but I know where he is. Do you know the name of my hotel?”
“Yes, but—”
“Get over here now, please. Within the next ten minutes.”
Marcus was a man after her own heart, because he was there in seven. Liz let him in, sitting him down right on the couch before she showed him the letter. “I don’t understand,” Marcus said, frowning at her once he was done reading. “Who is this and why does he have Michael?”
“I’ll explain it to you, but I hate having to repeat myself. I called the cops. When they get here, I’ll explain everything.”
But that didn’t stop Marcus from pestering her with frantic questions. He was trying to stay calm, but faced with Liz’s cool countenance and the fact that he had no idea what was going on, he was quickly becoming on edge. He had taken to shouting at Liz, demanding to know what had happened to Michael.
Liz didn’t budge. She tuned him out. Marcus had a reason to be so frazzled, Michael being not only his client but his close friend, almost like a son. But Liz couldn’t bring herself to describe the situation twice. She knew her limits and she knew that she only had the strength to say it once. Thinking about Michael, and what Hunter might be doing to him right this moment, made her so afraid she could hardly think straight. She had no clue if Hunter was so unhinged that he would do something to actually hurt Michael.
She didn’t want to think too hard on that. So, while Marcus paced back and forth around her, going on and on about how he knew Michael getting mixed up with her was a bad idea, Liz sorted through a plan in her head. At least, she tried to, but nothing solid would come to her mind. Her brain simply wouldn’t work properly, not the way it did when it wasn’t encumbered with the painful thought of Michael at the mercy of her psychotic ex-lover.
Finally, the police arrived. It took all of Liz’s willpower to let them in calmly.
“There’re here,” Marcus barked. “Explain everything. Now!”
Liz faced them. They had only sent two policemen, and she wasn’t sure if that was enough, but she supposed that was all she would get for now. “By the looks of the letter, it seems Michael has been taken by my ex-lover, Hunter Rowland.” She ignored the way Marcus stalked away in his anger, only to stalk right back. “Michael and I had dinner last night and after a… falling out, he left. I haven’t seen him since then, and this morning, the concierge told me that someone dropped off this letter for me. I assume that was Hunter.”
The taller of the two policemen, who held the letter in his hand, asked, “Why do you think it was your ex-lover? The letter isn’t signed.”
“Hunter is the only one who would send me something like that. He’s been… stalking me. Since I came to Italy.” Before they could continue with their questions, she went on, “He’s approached me on several occasions and has subtly threatened the ones I love. At first, I thought he meant my loved ones back home, but he’s been watching me with Michael and has grown jealous. I believe he’s trying to use Michael to get me back.”
“Do you have any proof of what you’re claiming?” asked the other policeman. His partner handed him the letter and he took turns between reading the letter and looking incredulously at Liz. She didn’t let it bother her. It was hard enough having to get everything out.
“I don’t have any proof, no. Other than the letter you have in your hand. And that’s why I haven’t been to the police about it.” She directed that last bit to Marcus, who was staring at her as if she just escaped a madhouse. “I had no evidence to back up my claim. But now that a man’s life is at risk, I don’t think we have any time to sit around and gather evidence.”
“Who did you say was taken again?” The first policeman flipped his tiny book out, waiting with his pen.
It was Marcus who answered. “Michael Davidson.”
“Wait, Michael Davidson? The composer?”
“So, you know him, then,” Liz said.
It was the second policeman who answered, excitedly, “Who doesn’t know of Michael Davidson? He’s famous here!”
“He’s famous everywhere,” Marcus snapped. “And now that you know who’s at risk here, I’m sure you aren’t going to be dragging your feet about this.”
Both policemen straightened up, much to Liz’s surprise. Before, they had been a bit laidback, clearly not taking what she was saying as seriously as they should have. Now that they knew it was Michael Davidson, they looked about ready to march into the pits of hell.
She went on before either of them had the chance to say anything. “The letter gives a location. He wants me to meet him alone, and I don’t think he’ll appreciate me bringing backup. He’ll have Michael at his mercy, and who knows what’ll happen if I walk in there with two policemen behind me.”
“They can surround the area,” Marcus said. He crossed his arms, thinking hard. “You’ll have to go alone, convince Hunter that you’ve listened to what he said, and you’re only there to get Michael back.”
“I’ll have to play along with whatever he wants, as well. Make him think there’s still hope for us. That’ll drop his guard a bit and hopefully loosen him up so he isn’t trigger happy around Michael.”
Marcus winced at that. “If he has a gun, this is going to be much harder to handle.”
“I doubt it. I wish I could tell you what I know about Hunter but I’ve never seen this side of him. If I had even an inkling he was this possessive, I would never have let him into my life.”
Marcus only scoffed, rolling his eyes. Liz put that aside for later. She faced the policemen. “How many of your men can you spare to rescue a hostage?”
“It’s tight,” the first policeman answered. “We don’t have many available, but we’ll give you everything we can. We won’t let anything happen to him, signora, I promise you.”
She nodded. A bit of hope sparked in her chest, but she didn’t let herself linger on that. The letter gave her a location and a time. She had to be there, alone, to meet with Hunter who was too dangerous to predict. She had to look at the man she loved, and pretend that she didn’t, just so she could get him out. She had to play Hunter’s game and put herself in danger before her backup could come in.
She was scared. She was so incredibly scared. But Michael was only in this position because of her. She could not fall apart.
“We have only a few hours before the rendezvous,” one of the policemen said. “Let’s head down to the station and gear up before show time.”