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Vanished in Venice

One year after being shot in Italy, Rachel Sanders returns in search of the jeweled cross that triggered a heartbreaking family betrayal. Determined to keep the treasure from her mother’s greedy hands, she’s caught off guard by the interference of an irresistibly charming rival. His unexpected offer to help might be self-serving, but she’s thrown into a precarious situation where she can’t refuse…and finds she doesn’t want to anyway.

Nick Marshall has a family legacy to recover and a score to settle. Anyone with the last name Sanders is fair game—until he meets Rachel. She’s gorgeous, smart, sexy, and doesn’t buy one word of his cover story. When their attraction combusts, each kiss makes his deception burn like acid, and he begins to question his end goal.

But they’re not the only ones after the cross. Ruthless players willing to do anything to recover the treasure first put Nick and Rachel’s lives at risk. Despite all the secrets and lies, lines quickly blur between the con and the real deal. Can love survive a double-cross when the mystery is unlocked?

Chapter 1

Someone was watching her. The unseen stare electrified the fine hairs on the nape of Rachel Sanders’ neck, and touched her skin like a chilling physical caress. The light breeze coming off the Grand Canal was not enough to warrant the sudden bumps that sprung up along her arms in the July heat. Dusk had fallen, but the temperature had to still be close to eighty.

She lifted her napkin to wipe her mouth, then set the cloth on her plate to indicate she was finished with her meal. Pretending to search for her server, she sought out the source of her unease.

No one stood out amongst the dimly lit terrace tables clustered outside the doors of the restaurant. Though it was hard to see with the candlelight reflecting off the clear glass, nothing appeared out of place inside, either. The rest of the busy square—campo—seemed business as usual. No one paid her any undue attention as they enjoyed the warm summer evening.

The ring of her cell phone made her jump, bumping her hand against her plate and rattling silverware. Geez—she was letting her nerves get the better of her. Even though she had absolutely no reason to be nervous, past experience in this country lingered in the back of her mind. Past experience growing up magnified the disquieting sensations.

She quickly dug the phone from her bag and answered when she saw the caller ID. “Hey, Halli.”

“Hi,” her younger sister greeted. “How’s Venice?”

Rachel casually shook her hair back, adjusted the sheer, black scarf that’d slid down one shoulder, and forced a smile so it would carry into her voice. “I’ve only been here a day, but so far the food is amazing.”

“When does your convention start?”

Her smile faded. “In two days. I’m going to see about touring the island of Murano. I have some design ideas for glass jewelry, but I need to do a bit of research first.”

“That Murano glass is gorgeous. I can’t wait to see what you come up with. How long are you there for again?”

“I booked a week.”

“You know, you should stay longer and get some sightseeing in, then meet us at the lake in a couple weeks.”

She let out a relieved breath. Halli didn’t seem to have any suspicions about her cover story. “Listen to you, Mrs. Tomlin. Much as I love Lago di Como, I can’t afford a month off work.”

“Ooh—nice accent.”

“Thanks. I’ve been practicing.”

“Credevo che le vendite andassero bene dopo che ho indossato I tuoi design alla premiere di Trent. Non è cosi?”

Rachel laughed. “I haven’t been practicing that much, show off.”

“I said, I thought sales were good after I wore your designs at Trent’s premiere?”

“Which is exactly why I can’t take off that long. Or shouldn’t,” she added to set the stage in case she did decide to extend her stay. “I don’t know, I guess I’ll see.”

“I say take whatever time you can while you’re there. If you overlook the dirtier canals, the bridges, squares, and shops are great. Trent took me for a weekend after the wedding, and I loved it. I can’t wait to go back and explore.”

She was thrilled at her sister’s happiness, yet still acknowledged a little twinge of envy as the waiter arrived to take her plate. Welcoming the distraction, she smiled her appreciation, then frowned when he replaced the empty dish with a small ceramic glass of what looked to be limoncello. She reached out with her free hand as he began to turn away. “Mi scusi—I did not order this.”

He shifted back alongside her chair and replied in Italian. “Complimenti della casa, signorina.”

Good lord, what a voice.

When she lifted her gaze to the server, her breath caught in her throat. Dark hair, dark eyebrows, and thick lashes made his green eyes all the more brilliant in the soft candlelight. There was a warmth in that gaze that made her think of whispered words of seduction, and deep, slow kisses. Heat that had nothing to do with her two glasses of wine unfurled low in her belly.

As she stared up at him, the man spoke again in heavily-accented English. “Compliments of the house, signorina.”

“Oh.” And she could’ve figured that out if his voice hadn’t short-circuited her brain.

A flash of white teeth through the shadowed stubble on his jaw increased her heart rate. His light touch grazed her elbow, sending a tingle along her arm at the same time she realized he wasn’t the same waiter who’d taken her order, or served her meal. This one was much closer to her age, and so damn gorgeous she was in danger of turning into a drooling idiot.

She shook her head as much to clear it as to say no to more alcohol. Which only got her another charming smile and a dramatic bow. Her second frown formed as he backed away, picked up an empty plate from a nearby table, then disappeared inside before she could even think to murmur a hesitant, “Grazie.”

“Rachel? You still there?”

She dropped her attention to the glass. “Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?” Halli asked.

“Nothing, really.” Her fingers tapped the chilled ceramic. “Just a drink I didn’t order.”

“Do you have an admirer?”

Humor colored her sister’s voice, but Rachel didn’t smile now that she was reminded of the sensation of being watched earlier. “No, I guess it comes with my meal.”

She turned to scan the surrounding area again. Normal people doing normal things. The man who’d served the limoncello must’ve been a busboy, even if he had looked to be near thirty years old. It wasn’t uncommon to see men of all ages serving in the restaurants and cafés of Italia. She searched inside, but couldn’t distinguish him from the other workers bustling amidst the full tables.

“Limoncello?”

“Yep.”

After casting one last glance around, she lifted the small glass and sipped. The distinctive, sweet, lemony flavor of the traditional dessert wine sang to her taste buds and slid down her throat. “Mmm, it is good.”

As she sipped again, Halli’s sigh came across the line. “Makes me want some, but I don’t think I’ll hold my breath at finding any here in the Montana Rockies.”

“How is everything out in God’s country?”

“Amazing. Long hours, but it’s going great.”

“How much longer are you guys there?”

“About two more weeks to finish filming. If we manage to avoid any major delays, we should be back in Italy by the time Ben and Evalina get back.”

“Have you heard from them at all?”

“Hah—right. We’re talking Ben and Eva here. On their honeymoon. In Hawaii.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She shook her head with a grin. Knowing those two, they probably weren’t venturing far from their hotel, even during the day. She wouldn’t be surprised if they returned with news she’d be an aunt in nine months. Ignoring another twinge, she said, “I thought they might’ve called about Aida, that’s all. How is the little terror?”

“Growing like a weed. And she’s a handful, that’s for sure, but everyone loves her. One of the handlers has been working with her, and she’s actually starting to listen some. She’s a very smart puppy.”

“Aren’t German Shepherds known for that?”

“Yeah. In fact, having her the past week has Trent dying for one of his own.”

“Oh, boy.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Well, if Ben does call, tell them I said hi.”

“I will. And…speaking of hearing from family…”

The sudden drop in her sister’s voice made Rachel tense. She wasn’t going to like what was coming.

“Has Mom been in contact all?”

Her stomach plummeted. Maybe her cover story hadn’t held up after all. The thing was, Halli always avoided talking about either of their parents. She certainly never broached the subject first, which made Rachel wonder what she knew now.

“No. Why?”

“I want to know you’re in Italy for the right reasons.” Suspicion laced Halli’s voice. “Reasons that have nothing to do with those letters Dad sent you.”

She hated lying to her siblings after all they’d been through growing up, and even more so after last summer. Through the thin material of her summer halter dress, she traced the bullet scar on her left thigh. They’d had each other’s backs in everything, which made her betrayal of trust now seem even worse.

“I promise, I haven’t heard a word from Mom.” Not since right after the woman had been paroled in spring, anyway—nor did she want to.

She had, however, visited their father in the prison infirmary last month. Which Halli knew, because she’d told her siblings about him getting a shank in his gut. He was doing okay, but his parole hearing had been canceled because of the fight he claimed another inmate had started.

What Rachel hadn’t mentioned was the conversation she’d had with their father. Ironically, this was one instance Halli would agree with him. Besides, she only intended to do some research here in Venice to satisfy her own curiosity.

Liar.

No—that was it. She’d see if there was any truth to the myth their mother had chosen over all of them, and then head home again. Which made a little white lie better than getting her sister and brother all worked up and worried for nothing.

“I just don’t want you—”

“Hal, my check just arrived, and I’m still wiped from the flight. I’ll talk to you in a few days, okay? Tell you all about the conference.”

Guilt mounted when her sister gave a sigh of resignation. “Yeah, okay. And I can’t wait to hear what you think of the glass companies. Take lots of pictures.”

Translation: Prove you’re there for the reasons you claim.

“I will. And listen, if I can figure out a way to swing staying long enough to meet you at the lake, I will.”

“That’d be great. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Say hi to Trent. Bye.”

She slid the phone back into her purse and searched for the waiter to signal for the check. Sipping the last of the limoncello, she acknowledged she was tired, but only because she’d walked along a fair number of those dirty canals, seen many beautiful squares, and crossed countless bridges leading past amazing buildings. Reconnaissance somewhat complete, tomorrow she planned to visit the reading rooms at the Biblioteca Marciana Library in St. Mark’s Square.

She’d done online research prior to her arrival, and narrowed down what books she would request to see. With only four applications accepted per person per day for viewing of works printed prior to 1851, she prayed the first four she’d picked would provide the information she sought.

After paying her bill, Rachel left the campo in the general direction of the apartment she’d rented, and walked along the promenade bordering the Grand Canal. The city of Venice was comprised of six sestieri, or boroughs, and she’d found a somewhat reasonably priced location in the eastern sestiere of Castello. Reasonably priced in Venice in July was stretching it a bit, but business had picked up after her famous brother-in-law’s premiere in May, so she’d splurged.

The heels of her sandals clicked along the cobblestones, across one bridge, then the next. They added yet another sound to the hum of activity along the city’s still-crowded streets. The sun had set not too long ago, and street lanterns and lights spilling from windows lit the busier areas.

A dozen or so Venice blocks away, she turned from the water, toward the heart of Castello. Away from the Canal, she surmised many of the people out and about were locals, with only the occasional tourists mixed in.

Couples walked hand in hand. Others walked dogs. Friends stood in groups, talking in Italian and laughing. One or two single pedestrians strode with purpose, possibly ready to be home after a long day of work, or anxious to meet someone special.

Rachel soaked in the ambiance, enjoying the slower pace with no cars, or even bikes. Nine o’clock was still early enough that she wasn’t in a rush to get back and shut herself off behind her apartment door. Maybe once she satisfied her curiosity, she would take Halli’s advice and smell the roses, so to speak.

The closer she got to her rental, the less people populated the narrow streets. Away from the popular tourists areas, it was a much different atmosphere than when she’d left in the daylight hours. There was less light, too.

Surprised by an unexpected ripple of apprehension, she increased her pace while doing her best to not think about the strange sensation at the restaurant. When she reached the end of the shadowed street and took a left turn, she was relieved to see a tall, four-lantern light post at the end…until she realized the path dead ended at one of the countless smaller canals bisecting the city.

Whoops—wrong turn in the maze.

She glanced up at the street sign as she swung around to retrace her steps. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a dark shadow duck into an entryway up ahead. Her step faltered. Her pulse skipped, then revved into the red zone as she faced the deserted street.

Rachel pulled her sheer scarf closer about her bare shoulders. Muffled voices registered, and a moment later, an older couple exited the residence one door up and to her right. They offered a polite, “Ciao,” before walking ahead of her. She returned the greeting, then followed directly behind them.

Inching closer to the couple as they approached the entryway three doors farther along, she peered into the shadows. Relief flooded through her when she saw the dark space was empty.

Keeping her feet moving, she thought back over the past minute. Other than the couple’s exit, there had been no other echoes of a door opening or closing—was it possible she’d imagined the shadow? Like she’d imagined someone watching her in the square?

A deep breath helped slow the pounding of her heart closer to normal.

One final glance back at the empty street convinced her she was being overly paranoid—once more letting bad memories get the best of her. What she needed was a good night’s sleep so she could start with a fresh perspective in the morning.

As the couple continued on their way, she took a moment to get her bearings and continued down the next street toward her rental. The entryway to her building had a light, but the rest of the street was dark enough to get her heart thumping again.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she whispered, forcing her feet to walk, not run.

She entered the building and glanced up as she reached for the stair railing that led to her second floor accommodations. When she saw the door to her rental open inward, her foot froze on the first step. A man came out, his head turned away from her as he did a quick check of the immediate area near the door.

Rachel jerked back out of sight, then moved as quietly as possible to hide beneath the stairwell. Her pulse kept time with the thud of his feet as he rapidly descended the stairs. She held her breath, waiting for the sound of the door. It opened, but when she didn’t hear it close again, she cautiously snuck a peek.

She bit back a gasp, as much for the identity of who’d exited her apartment, as for the bundle he held in his hands. Her father’s letters. The very letters she was here to research in connection with the Bible that had almost gotten Ben killed.

Her father had told her to leave it alone, but his written words from almost fourteen years ago had been etched into her brain ever since her brother’s wild trip from Milan to Rome four months earlier.

The cross is the key.

Unfortunately, the key to the cross had just walked out the door with her mystery waiter.

For one disbelieving moment, she stared at the closing door. Then she set her jaw and hurried after him.