Saints Astray (Santa Olivia #2)

Saints Astray (Santa Olivia #2) Page 31

“Thank you.”

They entered the villa and looked for the conservatory.

“Exactly what did you do to our client back there?” Sabine inquired.

“I’m not sure, but I think I just weirded out her wedding night.” Loup cocked her head. “I hear a piano. This way.”

“Very well. Let me handle this.”

They arrived in time to see Pasquale finish with a flourish, then lunge for Pilar and pull her onto his lap, hands wandering busily.

“Hey!” she protested.

Sabine strode into the room. “Little trollop!” she scolded. “This has gone on long enough. I promised your mother I would ensure your good behavior on this trip. I’m so sorry, signore, I know she has been bothering you all evening.”

He stood, dislodging Pilar. “No, no! Not at all.”

“You are too kind.” She switched to Italian, uttering profuse apologies and ignoring his passionate disclaimers. Behind his back, Pilar made a face and adjusted her dress. “Come,” Sabine said sternly. “You will stay at my side for the rest of the evening. No more bothering Mr. Picco.”

“But—” he said desperately.

“No, no.” Sabine shook her head. “I insist.”

Back on the terrace, they watched the elegant wedding guests dance. Pasquale Picco reemerged. After casting a few yearning glances Pilar’s way, he began trolling the other young female guests for a second choice.

“You so enjoyed bitching me out,” Pilar said to Sabine.

She gave a little smile. “Yes, well, it allowed me to extricate you without arousing his suspicion. Gustavo went peacefully once he saw the humor in the situation, but Pasquale may be rather irked to find he’s been played for a fool.”

The remainder of the night passed without incident. Guests began to leave. Pasquale Picco, failing in his quest, drank himself into a stupor and passed out on a chaise longue. Preparing to retire, the newlyweds made the rounds and thanked their guests.

“Excellent work,” Domenico Vittori murmured, pressing a tip discreetly into Sabine’s hand. “We are very pleased. Are we not, caro?” he added to Fiorella.

She blinked. “Oh, yes. Very pleased.”

The valet went to fetch the rental car. They waited on the edge of the big circular driveway.

“Why was Fiorella acting so weird?” Pilar asked. “We did do a good job.”

“She hugged me,” Loup said. “I think she liked it.”

“No!” She whirled around, staring back at the villa. “One of Christophe’s one in a hundred?”

“Maybe.”

Pilar stifled a giggle. “Shit! I mean, oh dear. That’s so going to mess with her wedding night.”

Sabine gave them both a look. “You presume a great deal.”

“Nope.” Pilar shook her head. “Trust me, if she liked the way Loup felt, she’s going to be thinking about it for days. Days and days,” she said dreamily. “And wondering what the hell is wrong with her.” She gave herself another shake. “Remember that waiter in Huatulco who couldn’t stop staring at Loup? Christophe says only one in maybe a hundred people feel that way, but when they do, look out.”

Sabine gazed at the sky, her lips moving silently.

Pilar sighed. “What?”

“Nothing. I am thanking God that I am one of the other ninety-nine.”

TWENTY-TWO

Incidence of one in a hundredism notwithstanding, Magnus deemed the job a success.

“We did the job we were hired to do,” he said philosophically at the breakfast table. “I take it Loup did nothing to provoke this response?”

“No,” Sabine admitted grudgingly.

He shrugged. “So? As an attractive woman, surely you’ve dealt with similar situations. Only without the, ah, genetically engineered aspect.”

Loup looked up from her omelet. “Why do you keep saying that? I mean, I don’t care, but it’s not true. I wasn’t engineered.”

“It sounds better than GMO or genetically modified, which is technically correct. Whether or not you were conceived naturally, your genes are modified by science. And it certainly sounds better than half-breed genetic mutant.”

“True.”

“So what happens now?” Pilar asked. “I mean, now that the job’s done. Do we go back to Aberdeen?”

Magnus smiled at her. “You’re quite at liberty, my dear. Until I arrange another job for you, you’re free to go where you will. Travel the world or pick a place to live. All I ask is that you make yourselves available for work within twenty-four hours’ notice at all times.”

“Anywhere?” Loup said. “We can go anywhere?”

“Certainly.”

“You trust us?” Pilar asked, skeptical. “I mean, what if we decide to take our bonuses and disappear?”

“Ah.” He folded his hands. “I wouldn’t recommend it. Not traveling on illegitimate passports.”

“Oh, great. Christophe was right, you are gonna blackmail us.”

“Not at all.” Magnus looked complacent. “We have an instance of perfectly balanced trust here. If you fulfill the terms of your contract, which I will remind you are extremely generous, you stand to become young women of certain means within a year’s time. But if you violate our trust, we will violate yours.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Loup admitted.

“Indeed.” He checked his watch. “Sabine and I will be returning to Palermo today and taking a late flight to Geneva. You’re welcome to ride to the city with us. If you would prefer to stay in Taormina, Global will cover today’s expenses and another night’s stay at the hotel. After that, you’re on your own.”

“Let’s stay, baby,” Pilar said without hesitation. “We’ve got to figure out where we want to go. Anyway, it’s nice here.”

“Okay.”

They said their goodbyes in the hotel lobby. Magnus shook both their hands.

“You did good work,” he said, formal and serious. “I’m very pleased. And I suspect I’ll have more work for you in short order. The Picco family is very well connected.”

“Whatever our next job is, can it please not involve me getting felt up by some skeevy Mafia guy?” Pilar said hopefully.

“I promise. That was an… unusual… situation.”

Back in the hotel room, Loup fanned the pages of her travel book. “Got any ideas?” she asked Pilar.

“Paris,” she said promptly. “I want to go to Paris.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Loup blinked. “We could have ridden with… oh, yeah. I get your point.”

“Mm-hmm.” Pilar wrapped her arms around Loup from behind, nuzzling her neck. “I get that she finds me een-sufferable. But I get tired of being reminded. Holy shit, you feel good, baby.”

Loup squirmed.

“Paris,” Pilar whispered in her ear. “City of lovers.”

“Do we have to wait until Paris?”

“God, no!”

Later in the day, Pilar made their travel arrangements on her Dataphone. “Okay. We’re booked. Flights, hotels, and everything. We’ll take the bus to Palermo tomorrow and fly out the next morning.” She frowned. “The bus part’s cheap. The rest is pretty expensive. Money goes fast, huh?”

“We’ll make more,” Loup assured her. Somewhere in the room, her cell phone rang. “Oh, crap! Where did I put that thing? I’ve gotta figure out how to forward calls to my Dataphone.” She scrambled and found it. “Hello? Yeah, good afternoon, Senator. Oh, right. Morning to you.” Her face brightened. “Now? Sure. Now’s a great time.” She lowered the phone. “He’s putting Miguel on.”

“Whoopee,” Pilar said, but without malice.

“Hey, Mig!” Loup said, delighted. “Yeah, we’re fine. Both of us. Huh? No, Sicily. We’re going to Paris tomorrow.” She made a face and held the phone away from her ear for a moment, letting him bellow. “Okay, okay! I get it. It sucks. But just think about how much it means to everyone at home!”

“He’s pissed?”

Loup nodded. “Mig, c’mon. Would you really feel that much better about it if I was stuck in a jail cell getting starved, hosed down, and interrogated?” She paused. “Yeah, they did.” Another pause. Her voice softened. “Okay, I will. You too. Don’t do anything stupid. This is a really awesome thing you’re doing. Okay, bye.”

“Sounds like your grouchy surrogate brother wasn’t so glad to hear from you,” Pilar commented.

“Yeah.” Loup smiled ruefully. “I think in his own way, he was. But he’s bored out of his skull and utterly disgusted that we’re running around Europe while he’s stuck in protective custody. He never wanted to be a hero, you know?”

“You are a strange and wonderful influence, my little wolf-girl.” Pilar gave her a light kiss. “Time to get you something to eat?”

“Yes, please.”

Two days later, they were in Paris.

Their hotel was located in the Latin Quarter. It wasn’t as luxurious as the places they’d been staying when Global Security was paying, but it was charming and comfortable, and the staff was remarkably friendly.

“Is this your first visit?” the young man at the reception desk asked, having determined they didn’t speak French.

“Yes.” Pilar smiled at him. “Pretty much everything’s a first time for us.”

He returned her smile, plucked a rose from the arrangement on the counter, and handed it to her. “Welcome to Paris.” He lowered his voice. “Do not buy pastries at the hotel café. There is an excellent bakery across the street. Try the pain au chocolat, you will like it.”

They did.

“Ohmigod.” Pilar’s eyes almost rolled back in her head. “This is one of the best things I’ve ever eaten.”