An Ocean Between (Beachside Sweet Romantic Suspense Book 2) Page 2

  “Well now, that’s a whole other story isn’t it?” The Senator boomed, apparently not quite finished with his phone call. Givanni caught my hand as I crossed the room and I stepped back, waiting with him just inside the doorway. Dovan Boswik. His voice was memorable from only the day before. He’d stopped an attack that surely would have killed not only Givanni and me but the rest of his team. His speech had been boisterous and carefree. As inappropriate as a parade for a funeral.

  After what seemed like a rude length of time to ignore visitors, jabbering about exclusive dinners and foreign awards, the phone was finally returned to its place.

  “Come in, come in!” he bellowed, one grand arm lifting up to direct us forward. The senator cranked Givanni’s hand, spilling pleasantries non-stop. Bracing myself I extended my hand, hardly able to keep my shoulder in its place as I was cranked up and down jovially.

  The second we were in our seats Givanni took the lead. “I need assistance Dovan,” he started, his voice somber. “I’m sure you’ve heard what I’m up against.”

  Senator Boswik’s face turned from pleasant to concerned like a switch. “Yes, of course, my boy. I have heard of the welcome you received. Not so warm I must say.” He shifted in his leather seat. “What have you planned?”

  Givanni sighed. His eyes were fixed on the Senator as if pleading for help. I turned back, wondering how Boswik could miss that expression. But he stared ahead silently with his eyes empty of understanding.

  “I have no plans,” Givanni breathed. “If I don’t have help from you, my friend—”

  “Help from me, of course!” the Senator boomed. “You just let me know anytime.” He stood, and we mimicked him. “Any time at all and I will be available for you,” His arm swept us forward again, the door opening and closing before we could reply.

  Standing once again in the reception room I was almost afraid to look over at Givanni, sure he was as shocked as me. The woman with fluffy hair even seemed surprised as her nails stopped clicking on the keys.

  “Did you need something else, sir?” she asked politely, obviously assuming we had chosen to leave after three minutes.

  “No, I guess not,” Givanni said. “Perhaps the Senator didn’t like the interruption of his phone call.”

  Her hair swayed like a pileup of cotton candy as she shook her head.“Oh no, that couldn’t be it. He hasn’t used his phone since this morn—” The words cut off, her head hovering over her computer as her fingernails started to click again. Her manner was something I’d seen before—an automatic reaction like children who cried when startled. She was forcing ignorance. Whatever knowledge she had, she knew it was dangerous.

  We left together, Givanni glancing around and keeping a hand across my shoulders. I could feel it as real as the salty breeze that had settled on my lips—the danger around us.

  We crossed a busy intersection and entered another world, leaving behind the cold conformity of city buildings to find the happily uneven planks of a boardwalk. Givanni still searched our surroundings for anything suspicious, but I’d left my apprehension on the other side of the street.

  People strolled, skipped, and jogged by. Kids laughed. Adults breathed deeply and returned the smiles that came. A seagull called, drifting in the ocean breeze as we walked past. Fishing boats crowded together in the small harbor, returning after a long day at sea. But it was the sailboats that held my eyes. There was something about the color of sky pressed against sea as the sun began to sink, the colors like varying shades of sorbet, all absorbed in brilliant white sails.

  I stopped. The wind pushed my skirt forward, willing me on, but I had no desire to rush anymore. Closing my eyes, I listened as Givanni’s steps continued for a few beats. And then it was silent.

  “You don’t need to be here, Ella.” Givanni’s voice was soft. Concerned. And closer than I had imagined him.

  “Yes I do,” I breathed, taking his hand and fixing my eyes on the overzealous green of his. I had hardly studied them from so close before. We always seemed to be running from something. My ribs felt instantly crushed. “I can’t leave.” There was so much more going on in my head, but I couldn’t say it. He deserved to hear it, how impossible it was to be apart from him when he could be hauled away in a matter of weeks—an innocent man. What the idea of prison for someone like him was doing to me. How I felt completely devoted to him even though we had confessed our feelings less than a day ago. It crushed me to think of it, losing something I had only glimpsed.

  His arms wrapped around me, burying me in a fragrance that had become familiar.“I’m sorry Ella, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I thought that with the government on our side we would be okay. I never believed they would frame me so quickly—so successfully.” He sighed, trailing one hand through my hair before wrapping it around me again. “I shouldn’t let you stay.” His face pressed my hair, breath gusting in my ear.

  I felt a smile pull at my mouth, amazed still that the man I had been trying not to fall in love with for so long actually felt something for me. His lips curved upward and I stood on my toes. Kissing him was likely something that would never be normal. His every move communicated with me.

  His arms slid from my sides to wrap around me. One hand trailed along my jawline and stopped at my chin. “I should fly you home,” he breathed.

  I stepped back, shaking my head, instantly sober. “That’s my decision to make, and I’ve made it.” I countered.

  With a reluctant sigh, he nodded.“Let’s get inside then—we should talk. Things aren’t making sense.”

  * * *

  Givanni circled the room, shaking his head, “It wasn’t him Loriel. He was putting on a show, just like in Italy. Only this time there was no audience. So why did he do it?” Finally stopping he settled on a barstool. His frustration and confusion had been steadily flowing since we had returned to the small seaside room he’d rented.

  I slid a plate of toast toward him, perching on the adjacent barstool and munching my own toast as I listened. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “What I have to decide now—this is delicious,” I smiled as he glanced over. “is if he was acting because he doesn’t want to help us. Or because he does.” After a few more crunchy bites he shook his head. “It just isn’t making sense. If he wanted to help, he would have slipped me a letter. Said something…”

  I washed my toast down with a quick swig of milk. “What I don’t get is all the junk he poured out just to impress us, I mean if he really wasn’t even on the phone—”

  “What?” Givanni turned, his own plate empty.

  “Didn’t you hear the receptionist?” I asked. “He hadn’t used the phone since this morning.”

  He shrugged. “I guess I just assumed she was… mistaken.”

  “I don’t think so.” I turned the barstool to face him. “She can probably see from her desk when he’s on the phone.”

  “So, why would he pretend to…” His eyes lifted, staring into mine for a moment, “do you remember what he said?”

  My heart thumped as I thought back to his words on the phone, wondering if there was really some significance to what I had thought was just a gloating show. Adrenaline made the memory sharp and easy to remember. I looked back at Givanni. “He said there was a dinner on the pier, everyone would be there. Something about Italy?”

  “Italy,” he breathed, shaking his head. “And I wasn’t even listening. What else do you remember?”

  My shoulders lifted and fell.“It all seemed like nonsense after that. A shining eagle in iron, and awards given to bleached hands? I just thought he was trying to impress us.”

  Givanni’s eyes were miles away. “No,” he sighed. “He wasn’t.” He crossed his arms on the counter, leaning forward. “I’m Italy, at least that was the name he used when he was running for office. He was a man with integrity, but to win he became good at putting on ‘the show’ people wanted. I was worried he had been corrupted.”

  “Huh,” I propped my feet on a rung of his chair. “
So if you’re Italy, then you know where to meet him. But what about the other stuff? Iron eagle and bleached hands?”

  Givanni rubbed his hands along his jeans, turning to me. “He’s very patriotic—loves this country. The Eagle could be him. Or all of Congress. But if it’s in Iron, then it’s chained. And bleached hands are clean only because they have been bleached. He’s talking about those who have theoretic blood on their hands, two-faced frauds. And my guess is they’re the ones in charge.”

  The room seemed to chill as I took this in, wondering if he was really saying what had crept into my mind. “So,” I took a breath. “By ones in charge, who would that be?” Givanni didn’t move, or look up. “The judge?” I pried. “Police? Because surely he can’t mean the…” Finally, his eyes met mine and the word came out in a whisp of breath. “President.” He looked sympathetic but didn’t object, and suddenly my mind was headed in an entirely different direction. “Givanni, can we leave the country? Can we disappear somewhere?”

  “No. We can’t.” With a sigh, Givanni turned to face me, not looking nearly concerned enough. “It doesn’t matter anyway, Loriel, the corruption isn’t going to make a difference. The only thing we need to do is prove that they’re wrong.”

  * * *

  The pier was beautiful, I supposed, but as I was swathed in darkness all I felt was apprehension. There was too much going on at once, the laughter and shouts of a dozen parties combining. An occasional stranger would pass, ranging from giggling girls to distinguished men, gray flecks in their hair shining. I stepped closer to Givanni, keeping my voice low, “So do you think he’s in one of those?” Three massive yachts crowded the end of the pier, lights glowing from every window and balconies crowded with people. It seemed a likely place to blend in.

  Givanni nodded with a dip of his head. He wrapped his hand around mine and blew out a breath, and we turned toward the last vessel in the row.

  “Excuse me,” I mumbled, having been compressed between two men the moment we tried to enter. Givanni had given me a look I knew well. A look that meant he was ditching me. To keep me safe—to keep me away from it all. I cursed, but it was lost among the noise like a leaf in a hurricane. The mass of dancers was an impassable wall that Givanni somehow managed to find a way through.

  I, on the other hand, was still two feet from the deck and wriggling to free myself from the tangle of bodies. I felt a hand slide down my back and knocked it away, glaring behind me at the innocent looking young man. Finally, abandoning caution, I shoved at the bodies in front of me, gradually making my way across. But when I pushed against a muscular back he spun around and grabbed my hand, pulling me smack against him.

  “Well you’re a sight,” he heaved, his voice lost in the music. I pushed against his chest, trying to create at least an inch between us. “Want a ride?” His face came alarmingly close as I fought uselessly, searching the room for Givanni. Gripping my waist, the stranger lifted me off the floor and tossed me above the crowd.

  With a gasp I braced myself, but my body never fell like I imagined it would. Instead, I was passed overhead in a surprisingly organized way, like an offering to the ceiling. Trying to stay stiff, I imagined colliding with the solid wood floor again and again, sure not all of the members of this party had their wits about them. Eventually, I found a strong shoulder and reached for it, nodding at the stranger appreciatively as he helped me down.

  “Not your idea of fun, eh?” he chuckled, pushing someone away as they nearly rammed me. I shook my head, thanking him quickly before dashing to the back of the room and escaping through the rear door. Once it swung closed everything was silent. I was left on a narrow length of deck that stretched along the side of the ship. Above me were two levels of music and movement, but I didn’t care to investigate. Givanni was more likely to be somewhere secluded, where he could talk—at least that was what I hoped.

  I made my way carefully forward. The dim lights reflected ominously across the inky black water, dancing over ripples and sinking into dips. I’d practically grown up in the ocean, but at night the swells looked alive and menacing. My imagination eagerly placed me in chains and threw me over. I swallowed, clutching the smooth handrail and pausing at a slight whisper of sound. With my back pressed against the wall, I edged forward until finally recognizing Givanni’s voice.

  “But Dovan, there’s got to be others you can turn to. With just a shred of decency it’s more than clear I’m being manipulated. Framed, even.”

  I strained to hear the reply, but it was silent.

  “So what can I expect from you? Nothing?” Givanni’s voice had risen, and I glanced behind me. But the compassionate response had me turning around.

  “My dearest friend, I will do all I can,” Boswik answered softly. “But there are forces at work here. If they suspect anything…”

  I could hardly believe the difference in tone, not able to imagine this sincere voice as the one who had blustered and gushed earlier. My shoe skidded, and the conversation cut off with it.

  Givanni’s gun was visible before he was, and my heart jumped to my throat. After a quick glance, he exhaled. He lowered the weapon and gestured me forward. “It’s okay Dovan, it was just…” But the secluded corner was empty, the senator having successfully vanished.

  My eyes darted around us, and the look on Givanni’s face worried me. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” His eyes were warm as he glanced over. “He’s a smart man. We should be going also.” The party had kicked up a notch, if that was possible. I glanced behind us as we met with the pier. Black ocean sloshed against the yacht, and a single man watched us from the upper deck. I hoped it was the senator and that his plans to help Givanni were already in place, but there was too much doubt in my heart to be sure.

  “Evening,” A man called, his voice unpleasant. Givanni ignored him, and his arm tightening around me. The stranger’s size was daunting, but it was the anger set in his jaw as we passed that had me looking away. “I said good evening!” He shouted, and his feet began to drum behind us. At the end of the pier, two men stepped out from a restaurant with dark windows.

  I kept my pace up, more concerned with the larger man. A hollow clunk echoed as a glass bottle fell to the ground, and the footsteps behind us slowed. “Now isn’t that just my luck. You two boys want to help me out?” His voice hung in the air like thick fog, and my forearm scattered with goosebumps.

  Givanni rubbed my arm, gesturing to the two men. “It’s okay Ella, they work for Marco,” he whispered. “He must have sent them to keep an eye on us.” He leaned closer, whispering. “But that doesn’t mean I trust them.”

  “Hey, don’t hurt him,” Givanni called as soon as they were close enough. But it didn’t look like they were in any mood to listen.

  “Just because we’re hired to protect you, doesn’t mean we take orders from you,” the first man grunted, stowing gun and wrapping something hard and jagged across his knuckles. “We’ll just teach him to keep his mouth shut.” Content to hold onto his pistol, the second man pushed Givanni aside like some annoying pest. “Yeah, now run along,” he growled, his skull looking thick enough to withstand a few beatings. Brushing past they continued confidently toward the largest man, his uneven walk sending the bottle at his feet into a spin.

  I didn’t want to see it, and pulling on Givanni’s arm I hoped he would just continue on. But he waited. Their bit of conversation was hushed and brief, and violence broke out as soon as they reached him. A sickening crack of iron knuckles connecting with jawbone had my stomach turning. The lone man at once had my sympathy.

  Givanni gripped my wrists. “Keep walking,” he hissed before running across the wooden planks. I gasped, glancing around desperately for anything or anyone that might help. But we were alone.

  My eyes widened at the sight of Givanni wrapping one arm around the man with the pistol. He twisted his arm up and brought it down hard against his knee. The man’s gun clattered to the ground. With one kick, Givanni se
nt it skidding across wood until it splashed into the ocean below. Their attention turned as a yell came from the partner. The lone man was fighting back with fury, his drooping mouth dripping with blood. He pounded viciously on the thug who had struck him, now lying motionless on the pier.

  Abandoning Givanni, the thick-skulled brute charged, hitting his enemy full on and sending him flying. In the next moment, his shoulders were cumbered with his partner, and he sprinted past Givanni.

  “You’re on your own. Marco can hang you for all I care,” he shouted. I flinched back as they passed—the unconscious man beginning to moan. Givanni followed, taking my hand and propelling me with him. Groans and curses came from behind us. The man on the pier had clearly gotten more than he’d expected.

  But even with his eagerness to start a conflict, I still felt sorry for him. “Do you think he’ll be okay?” I huffed, running.

  Givanni glanced behind us, finally slowing to a walk. He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re worried about him?” he asked. I tried to laugh too, but nerves turned it into a gust of breath. He wrapped one arm around me. “Men like him are never okay, Loriel.”

  * * *

  Late that evening, our jet’s privacy was a welcome change. I tucked my feet under me and glanced at the magazine Givanni was reading. Travel. I’d had enough travel. All I wanted was to hide out at home for a week or two. “Givanni,” I began. He looked up, and I tried to ignore the fact that we were so close together—it would only make my thoughts disappear. “Why would Marco ever think to hire those men as body guards. They hardly seemed like good guys.”

  Givanni nodded like he’d been waiting for my exact words, and I was sure he agreed with me. “Sometimes there’s a blurry line between bad and good,” he said, and I raised an eyebrow as I tried to think of an example that would fit his description. “They were hired to protect us, and they did that. They weren’t required to be kind, or even to care. But if Marco trusts them, it means they’re good at what they do.”