Legends of Fire

Part One: A Pattern Established

 Chapter One: Saxony the Spoon

 Elda had been right. Whatever was happening in Enzo’s life, it was stressing him out. Fear leached from him, and the cold tentacles of his anxiety seemed to crawl across the floor toward me, making my skin want to creep off my body.

The old boss fixed me with a smile, but it had none of his former confidence or superiority. He’d aged a decade in the year that had passed since I’d last seen him. His skin, formerly lined but plump and dewy, was dry and flaky. A net of wrinkles had closed in on his over-large brown eyes, and the skin under his chin sagged. He looked like a caricature of his former self, one drawn by a malicious cartoonist.

With his hands stacked over the top of his cane, Enzo tilted its silver handle in the direction of Basil’s largest sofa. An invitation to sit down, or maybe a silent command. In spite of his elderly appearance and fearful energy, he maintained the physical bearing and habitual gestures of someone used to being in control.

With a glance at Basil, who only raised an eyebrow in curiosity, I headed for the sofa and sat down, heart drumming a steady rhythm against my breastbone. There was only one reason Enzo would leave his Venetian palace to come and see me in person. It was time to pay off the debt I owed. My palms felt clammy and my stomach tightened. I pressed my hands between my knees to keep from fidgeting.

 “Grazie for the use of your office,” Enzo said to Basil with a voice full of gravel, thick fingers gripping the head of his cane tight enough to bleed the knuckles white. Maybe he was just as nervous as I was. I wondered if he was implying Basil should leave. The idea doubled my anxiety.

“Prego,” replied Basil, not making any move to vacate his chair. He did glance my way again, the question in his gaze as clear as if he’d spoken it: Did I want him to go?

Gratefully, I gave him the smallest shake of my head. I never wanted to be alone with any Barberini again, if it could possibly be helped.

Enzo lifted his shoulders in a shrug, the classic Italian ‘whatever’ gesture. He swung his chair to face me more directly. “I hope my visit finds you well, Ms Cagney, and that you’ve enjoyed your time so far here at Arcturus.”

I forced a smile as a lonely thought rattled in response: and I hope you choke.

“You know why I am here,” he said without waiting for a reply.

I held eye contact with the don. “You’re cashing in your chit.”

He paused. “I don’t know this saying, but I understand its meaning well enough. Yes. It is time for you to repay.”

“What do you want?”

I didn’t miss Basil’s surprised glance at my abrupt tone, but Enzo didn’t even blink. Perhaps he appreciated the opportunity to get to the point.

“Let me tell you una piccola storia to begin,” he replied.

Okay, so maybe he was going to take his time getting to the point. I let out a sigh and waited.

Enzo dropped one hand from his cane, curled his fingers and gave a few dry coughs into his pudgy fist. Thumping himself on the chest, he looked to Basil and began to ask something but struggled to get it out.

The headmaster was already out of his seat and moving toward the table with the carafe of water and the stack of glasses. He poured two cups full and delivered one to Enzo and one to me.

Thanking him, I took the glass and took a sip before setting it on the coaster nearest my knee, using the moment to settle myself emotionally. My heart was beating madly. Just seeing Enzo again had resurrected the unpleasant memories of what his son had done to me. Dante did not share many of his dad’s features, he must have taken his good looks from his mother, but it was enough to know that this man had fathered the person who’d tortured me for a number of hours I’d never be able to tally accurately. But more than the desire to get as far away from Enzo as I could, I wanted him not to see any fear as a result of his presence. That would only make him happy.

Enzo thanked Basil and sipped the water. Appearing to be to his taste, he took two larger gulps before setting the glass on Basil’s wooden desktop, either not seeing or simply ignoring the coaster Basil had pushed across the desk.

“I know many people in Napoli,” the don began, scratching at two day’s worth of salt-and-pepper beard growth. “I have business interests in all of our largest cities. More than this you do not need to know, but it is important for you to know that six days ago, I sent my son to negotiate a contract in Napoli. Did you ever visit?” He slanted a sly look in my direction, taking me off guard with his question.

“Naples? No. I’ve only ever been to Venice.”

He waved a hand and pulled on the end of his nose, a nervous gesture perhaps. “Just curious. It would have been helpful if you knew the style of the city, but no matter.”

I blinked. Enzo’s funny way of talking might have been charming under other circumstances. I assumed by ‘style’, he’d meant layout.

“There is a beautiful piazza called Vittoria in front of the Baia that is very popular with tourists,” he went on, wiping the sides of his mouth with a thumb and forefinger. “My son’s favorite bakery is there. The Neapolitan are famous for their baba.”

I arched a brow. Dante had never struck me as much of a pastry lover. Then again, such a leaning went well with his penchant for pastel colored clothing. But what did baked goods have to do with me?

“I know, I know. Dante is very fussy.” Enzo chuckled affectionately, but he was chuckling by himself as Basil and I stared at him. I had forgotten how meandering Enzo was in conversation. He acted like we were old friends catching up. It was the kind of artificial warmth that left one feeling more chilly than before the encounter.

“I hope when you are there you take the opportunity to sample the baba yourself,” he said with that same foxlike glance, making sure I hadn’t missed the smoke signal he’d sent up between the words. I would soon find myself visiting Naples.

I felt like wilting but I forced my shoulders back and my expression into neutral. I really didn’t need this right now. What I needed was to get on a plane and go home to Canada. I needed to sleep beneath my childhood duvet, play cards with Jack and RJ, and razz my mom about her latest self-inflicted dye-job. I needed to meet Gage at Flagg’s, if only just to have him smile at me. I needed to fill the cracks in our relationship with mortar, even if it was friendship mortar.

“My son has disappointed me,” the old man went on, putting counterfeit sadness over genuine fear. The effect was grisly. “Dante has not put aside his foolish ambition, as I had hoped he would, after the… adventure with you last summer. If he had been moved away from his goal, he would have made me happy, but… what do they say in the English stories? Alas. He has not.”

The only ambition I’d ever known Dante to have was that of becoming a fire mage. I bristled but waited out the silence for Enzo to get to the point. I didn’t like the direction this was headed, but what Enzo wanted from me, I had to do my best to give him.

In a way, now that the shock of Enzo’s appearance (softened thanks to Elda’s warning) had worn off, I was surprised to feel an eagerness I had not expected. Perhaps getting Enzo’s debt paid off sooner rather than later would be better than having it hanging over my head for years.

“Having grown up with a magus”—Enzo paused and looked at Basil, meandering around the point the way satellites orbit earth—“Nicodemo.” He swung back to me. “Dante can easily spot the small, hardly noticing details that mark your kind.”

Enzo had been doing quite well with his English up until this point. “Hardly noticeable?” I supplied.

“Si, si. Hardly noticeable. As you say.” Enzo chuckled. “Dante prouds himself to recognize a fire magus at forty meters. I agree with such claims. What Dante believes to be unpayable, I would pay to eliminate.”

It took me a minute to discern that one. “Priceless, you mean? What Dante believes to be priceless?”

“As you say.” Enzo nodded, the chair’s leather squeaking beneath him. “When he phoned me to relay that he had spotted two of you, I understood he was not lying.”

The small hairs at the nape of my neck raised themselves. It was only with great effort that I didn’t gape at Basil in rising alarm. Dante had spotted two fire magi in Naples? What were the odds? If Basil knew the magi population of Naples, he could make a deduction, but he obviously wasn’t going to say anything in front of Enzo. The headmaster’s gaze merely twitched in my direction briefly.

“I commanded Dante to leave them alone and come home directly after the negotiation.” Enzo shook his head.

I crossed my arms over my chest and hooked one knee over the other, sitting back against the sofa in a movement that clearly relayed my cynicism. “Let me guess, he defied your orders.”

“No. He did come home, but only to fetch something and leave again.”

“Back to Napoli?”

The don nodded as he fished a small pocket handkerchief from an inside pocket and mopped his brow. “My son is not normally so disrespectful, but I fear he is starting to see me as…” he paused. A flash of the same kind of panic that consumed someone lost in miles of wilderness flashed across his face, then it was gone.

“In the way?” I guessed.

“Perhaps. Time, it seems, takes everything from us. Little by little. Including the respect of our children.” He returned the handkerchief to his pocket.

I didn’t agree with his assessment, but wasn’t interested in launching a philosophical debate. If Enzo was losing Dante’s respect it was because Enzo had raised an inconsiderate brat and also hadn’t done much worthy of respect. “What did he come home to fetch?”

“Strangely, I can’t tell you what it was, only that he took it from Nico’s things—items left in our private safe before his death.” The don paused to take another sip of water after this enigmatic announcement.

I narrowed my eyes. Nicodemo had gone to a lot of trouble to record videos for Isaia. He’d wanted to teach his son how to live with his fire, tell him things that any normal father would want his son to know. It was highly likely that the things Nico had left in the safe had been set aside for Isaia as part of his inheritance. I didn’t doubt that the Barberinis would never honor their dead employee’s wishes, especially if the items were valuable. What Isaia didn’t know about, he would never miss.

“You have no idea at all what it was Dante came to get?” My tone was flat and disbelieving. I wanted Enzo to know I didn’t trust for one second that Nico had left property to the insanely wealthy crime family.

Outside Basil’s window, the thin sunlight dimmed further as clouds moved in front of the sun. Enzo pulled out a small leather spectacle case. Unsnapping it, he pulled out a set of thin glasses, unfolded them and put them on, taking care to tuck the wire behind his ears and fix them well. His breathing seemed to be heavier than it had been when I’d first sat down. There was a whistle in his lungs that didn’t sound friendly.

“I had Karim look through the items to see what was missing,” he continued. “A bit of parchment is all, very fragile, rolled and held in a cardboard tube.”

“Parchment,” I repeated. “And you want it back? Is that why you’re here?”

Enzo peered at me through his glasses, his already big eyes doubled in size. He was still for a while, as though absorbing my English words and slowly translating them into Italian inside his antique but still-sharp mind.

“No.” He shook his head but didn’t take his gaze from mine. “I don’t want you to bring back the parchment. I want you to bring back my son.”

It was harder to contain my surprise this time, and my dismay. So much for never seeing Dante again. “Are we talking about a rescue, or the art of persuasion here?”

“Perhaps a bit of both. My boy is in need of saving from himself, and I am hoping you can achieve this with simple persuasion. However, it may come that you are required to use force. If you are, you have my blessing, just do your best not to hurt him.”

“Why can’t you send Karim or a couple of your other”—I wanted to say ‘goons’, but Enzo didn’t appreciate implications that he was mafia—“hired hands?”

Enzo shifted in his seat, rocking back and forth as he settled his bulk anew. “It is not my practice to use a fork where a spoon is needed.”

I pointed at my breastbone. “And, I’m the spoon?”

BingeBooks sample ends here (approx. 2200 words)

“I fear Dante has gotten himself tangled with these magi in pursuit of his goal to become one of them. I want you to convince him to give up and come home. In the event he refuses your persuasions, then I’m giving you permission to knock him out, throw him in a sack. I will even supply a helicopter delivery.”

“You mean pick up?”

“Just so.”

I cleared my throat. “I see.”

My mind tumbled with questions and suspicions. On the face of it, either persuading Dante to go home or forcing him didn’t appear to be too difficult a task—setting aside the fact that kidnapping someone is illegal and I’d already told Enzo I wouldn’t break laws. I suspected there was something he was not telling me.

“As enjoyable as it would be to knock your son out and throw him in a sack, I still don’t understand why me? Surely one of your men would be enough? Why use up the favor I owe you on this particular errand?”

“Your skills may be necessary,” Enzo said. “Your experience at the hand of my son, and your understanding of what it means to live the life of a fire magus may all come into play. You are the only one who can convincingly express to him how dangerous it is, how painful.”

“With all due respect, Senor Barberini,” I said, my lips twisting with an ironic smile, “Dante already knows it’s dangerous. He killed Nicodemo and he almost killed me too when he tried to manipulate me into giving him Isaia’s fire.”

Strictly speaking, I understood there to be less danger for a mage who was to receive the fire than any mage undertaking a Burning, but Enzo took my point anyway. Dante didn’t need to be told that he was playing with his life.

The don nodded. “Dante understands some of the danger, but coming from you, I believe he will take it more seriously. The reason I want to send you is not only because I happen to know from personal experience that you have negotiation skills, I think there may be a possibility Dante has some kind of agreement with these unknown magi. They may come to his defense, and if they do, I want to be able to fight fire with fire. Is that clear enough?”

I gulped and slid a sideways glance at Basil, who was listening with a narrowed, calculating gaze.

If the two magi Dante had involved himself with were Nero and Ryan, then I didn’t need Enzo to ask me to go to Naples and I thought I could deduce that Basil’s thoughts ran along a similar vein. Whatever was going on over there in Italy, we needed to understand it and more than likely stop it. I hoped the agency knew more than Enzo did, because I didn’t feel like going in as blind as I currently was.

“What do you know about these magi?” I took a sip of water, hoping it would soften the ball of nerves filling my stomach.

“A little. When Dante came home to get the parchment, he seemed very excited. Too much for my comfort.”

I nodded, putting my glass down. I knew the manic look Dante could get.

“He told me that he was buying baba in the Piazza Vittoria when he saw a young man with eyes like Nico had. The kind that look red in some lights. Your kind.” Enzo leaned forward, his expression full of meaning. “The young man was seated at a table in front of the café. He appeared to be waiting for someone. Dante ordered an espresso and sat at a table not far from the magus. That someone came along a short while later. The other man, also with the eyes, was older than the first. Perhaps mid-fifties, was Dante’s guess. They spoke in English. The younger was American, and the other was a local, the Neapolitan accent is quite particular. They spoke and Dante listened, pretending to read a newspaper. He learned from their conversation that the two had an agreement. The young one was newly Burned, the older was in charge, perhaps the young one’s employer? My son could not clearly hear all that was said, as they kept their voices low. You can imagine my son’s enthusiasm at finding these magi, for he has desperately missed Nicodemo.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I highly doubted Dante missing Nico had anything to do with friendship or brotherly love. He missed the only supernatural in his father’s employ. Dante had so wanted to be a mage that he gave himself a fake mage mark, a tattoo.

“When the young one left the table and walked away, the older one stayed and ordered breakfast. When he was finished, he went in the opposite direction. My son followed him, but not very well, because the old magus turned on him and demanded to know what he wanted.”

Enzo paused here for another coughing session and a drink, leaving me nearly writhing with impatience. Senor Barberini was slow and pedestrian in his speech. It was enough to drive one mad.

“Dante told him the truth, not about who he is, in case this magus belonged to one of our enemies, but that he loves the magi and desired to become one of them. The older magus grew angry and told my son to go away, but Dante did not.”

“He’s nothing if not tenacious,” I muttered sourly.

“Si, é vero. Dante proposed a deal. In exchange for helping him acquire a fire, perhaps even the younger magus’s fire, he could pay a lot of money. He took a great risk offering this, making an assumption that the magi were not loyal to one another, but Dante is not risk averse, as you know. However, money did not interest the magus, but when my son brought up the fact that he once knew a magus and that he’d inherited some interesting artifacts, this older magus became interested.”

My skin felt oddly cold, even as my fire licked up and down my spine.

“After the magus agreed, my son promised to bring the parchment to him and give him time to discover for himself its authenticity. After that, he would help Dante get his fire.” The corners of Enzo’s lips quivered at this, in fear or anger, I couldn’t tell.

Heart beating as rapidly as a bird’s, I cleared my throat. “Let me see if I understand. After this agreement was struck, Dante returned to Venice, collected the parchment, filled you in on the situation and then left against your command?”

Enzo nodded. “Si. Esattamente.”

“He has returned to Naples with the parchment, he will allow N–this older mage to inspect it, and if he’s happy with it, the older mage will facilitate the passing of the younger mage’s fire over to your son?”

“I can’t speak to whose fire Dante expects to acquire, that is speculation. It is also possible the parchment will be of no interest to the magus and he will not agree, but it is just as possible that they will strike a bargain. I am afraid for my son’s life and want him to abandon this plan and come home. Even if he was to receive a fire successfully, you and I both know what his next step will be.”

I nodded. “He’ll attempt a Burning.”

“And you and I both know that he will not survive that. So I want you to bring him home before he gets to a place where he can try it. Do this, and you will fulfill your promise. You will owe me nothing and I will never approach Isaia or his family. You have my word, and all of your expenses will be covered.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as I tried not to think about how Enzo had given me his word that he wouldn’t bother Elda, and yet he had. An antique clock on Basil’s shelf of oddities ticked quietly along, watchful but unaffected by the tension.

My voice came out reedy. “And if I fail?”

Fear filled Enzo’s brown eyes again, giving them a glassy sheen. His brows slanted down over his tired gaze. “Then I may be short my only son, and you will find that the next assignment is much more difficult.”

“I told you I didn’t want to break any laws.”

Enzo waved a hand. “It is up to you how you reach success in this matter. In my view—and I am the one who says whether you have succeeded or not in this task—my son at home in Venezia, safe and alive, is the goal. Make this happen and you will be released. You never have to see me or Dante again. Do you agree?”

I glanced at Basil, who remained unhelpfully impassive, then back at the don. As far as I could see, I hadn’t much choice in the matter, and I had my own reasons for wanting to go to Naples now, anyway. “I agree.”

“Bene.” Enzo thumped his cane on the floor twice, as if to seal the deal. “I will have Karim send you Dante’s contact information, cell number and email address. I’m afraid he has not told me where he is staying in Naples. He knows his padre is not above having someone pluck him from his bed in the middle of the night.” He lifted a brow in question. “Presuming you do not have these details already?”

I couldn’t stop a bark of indignant laughter at the idea of keeping Dante’s contact information in my phone after what he’d done to me.

Enzo smiled and shrugged. “Young women do strange things. Many of them are very attracted to dangerous and impulsive men like my son. If you are an anomaly among your kind, I congratulation you.”

“Thanks,” I said, my tone thick with derision. “But it would be helpful to know where he is staying in Naples. He may not agree to meet with me and if I can’t track him down in person, this task may have already failed.”

Enzo pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at the corners of his mouth, nodding. “If and when Karim has that information, he will send it to you. How soon can you fly? I can offer you the use of a plane and one of our villas in centro historico.” He tucked the handkerchief away. “I hope you mark how good I am to my employees. Whatever resources I can give you, I will.”

That was not such a subtle way of suggesting that should I be successful, I could take Nicodemo’s place on Enzo’s roster, if I was interested. I was not and never would be, but I didn’t feel the need to rub it in his face.

Enzo got to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. “Can you be at the airport later today? You can fly with me to Venice, and my pilot will carry you on to Napoli.”

My heart did a roll. “I would prefer a little more time to prepare. My family is expecting me in Canada, I will have to update them, and I would also like some time to do a little research.”

“Time is not your friend right now, signora,” Enzo replied, almost gently. “I have a car outside. You should take the opportunity to ride with me. No?”

Feeling like steam might blow from my ears from the sheer pressure of the situation, I scrambled inwardly, though Enzo was right. Still, I was completely unprepared and desperately wanted to discuss the situation with Basil. “Let’s meet in the middle. I need a couple of hours to pack. Can you send a car for me at six?”

“As you like.” Enzo nodded, fishing two cards out of his pocket he set them on Basil’s desk then turned for the door.

“Did Dante tell you the name of these mages?” Basil asked, getting to the door before Enzo and pulling it open for the older man.

“Dante knows me well. Give me too much information and I will take control. I do not know them by name.”

Basil watched the don pass into the hall and followed him out, possibly to make sure the elderly Signor Barberini didn’t fall down the steps.

I watched them leave, wondering. If Enzo knew who Dante was getting involved with, he probably would have sent a hitman instead.

***Bonus***

Gage answered, sounding tired. “Saxony?”

I smiled, not because I felt like it, but because I knew he would be able to hear it in my voice. “You know it. Sorry to harass you so soon after landing. How was your flight?”

His tone was withdrawn. Understandable given our breakup. “Good. I slept so it went fast. What’s up?”

I took a deep breath through my nose and went straight into it. “There’s been a development. I can’t come home yet, so I won’t be able to meet you at Flagg’s any time soon. I’m actually headed to the airport myself right now, but I’m not flying home. I’m flying to Naples.”

There was a heavy pause, then a drawn out, “Okaaaay, I’ll bite. Why?”

Guilt sent a thin blade into my heart. I’d never told Gage about Enzo. I never thought Enzo would cash in his chit so soon, and when Elda had come, dropping hints, I’d told Tomio the story because he’d been here when Gage hadn’t. After that, what had happened with Eira, and the confession of kissing Tomio had made everything else seem unimportant.

“It’s a long story, but here’s the fast version. I owe a favor to the head of a Venetian family named Enzo. I have to convince his son to leave Naples and go home to Venice before he gets further into trouble. From what Enzo told me, his son–Danté–might have made some kind of deal with someone who sounds a lot like Nero, and Enzo is worried for Danté’s life.”

I paused, letting Gage absorb this. My heart pounded as he took his time answering.

“This Danté, he’s a mage?”

“No. He’s just a regular guy, but that’s what Enzo is worried about, that he’s made a deal to receive a fire. I’m supposed to stop that from happening.” I braced a hand on the SUV’s door as the driver took a corner a little too fast.

Gage was quiet for too long.

“Hello?”

“I’m here. Do you have any idea how nuts this sounds?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry I’m blind-siding you with it. If you’d been here when Elda had visited, I would have had a chance to explain.”

“Who is Elda?”

“The mother of the kid who gave me his fire.”

“She visited you?” He sounded incredulous. I was quickly feeling worse and worse. Why hadn’t I told Gage more when I’d had the chance? Gage and I enjoyed one another’s company but he had never drawn me out the way Tomio had, and maybe I thought my history was boring and irrelevant to Gage.

“Yes, while you were in Italy with your mom.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me about the favour you owed? Why do you even owe a favour? Why is this up to you?” His voice cracked and filled up with an edge of anger and something else. Concern?

“I… it didn’t ever seem important, and then the games happened, and then…”

“Tomio.”

“Yes.”

“My God, Saxony. Who are you? I feel like I don’t even know you. Maybe I’ve never known you.”

I closed my eyes in guilt and frustration. I felt bad, but didn’t have time for this. Sighing, I opened my eyes and told myself to be patient. None of this was Gage’s fault. “I am sorry I never told you sooner, and I promise, when there is time, I’ll tell you everything. But right now, I’m on my way to Naples and I think Ryan might be in trouble. Again.”

Gage sounded bitter. “Isn’t he always?”

I ignored his tone, even if it raised a red flag. Gage was stretched thin, and maybe whatever he’d learned in Naples was starting to reveal his twin’s true character to him and he didn’t like it. I hoped this was the case, though it made me sad to hear him sounding so unlike himself.

“You said you learned some things when you were in Naples, things that you were going to tell me when we met at Flagg’s. Can you tell me now? I feel like I’m flying in blind here and need all the facts I can get my hands on.”

He let out a breath. “Yeah, okay. Well for one thing, I’m not sure that Ryan will even be in Naples when you get there.”

My head snapped up. “Really?”

“He never told me directly, but when he met me and Mom one night for dinner, I managed to steal his phone and take it to the washroom. I didn’t have much time with it but I saw some text exchanges with an unknown number about rushing a tourist visa for Iran. Someone gave him a travel authorization number from a contact at the Iranian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. With that number, he’s supposed to be able to fast-track a tourist visa. He was told it normally takes two to three months, but this contact could rush his application and get one for him in a matter of days.”

“Iran?” I breathed, feeling dizzy. What was Ryan up to?

“Yes. A coastal place called Ramsar. The message said that Ramsar was outside of the Free Trade Zones and so he needed a visa to visit. That was all I learned, I had to get back to the table before Ryan realized his phone was missing.”

“I don’t know what’s more shocking,” I said, “the fact that Ryan is going to Iran, or the fact that you broke into your brother’s phone. How did you bypass his security code?”

Gage sounded cynical again. “How do you think?”

It took me a second. “Face ID.”

“Yes. Look what my brother is turning me into?” He let out a harsh breath. “Anyway, I think he’s going as part of his deal with Nero.”

“Do you know if Nero is going with him?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think so. There was only talk of rushing one visa, and maybe the unknown number was Nero himself. It’s not like Ryan knows anyone else in Italy.”

“Any idea what he’s going there to do?”

“None whatsoever but whatever it is, it can’t take too long. His rushed visa will only be good for twenty days.”

“I don’t suppose you took photos of this info?”

“Of course I did. I’ll text you everything I have. And I’ll do my best to be on a flight to Naples as soon as I can.”

I froze, my eyes wide and sightless. I must have misheard him. “What did you say?”

“I’ll meet you in Naples, Saxony. There’s no way I’m letting you do whatever the hell it is you’re doing all alone.”

“You only just arrived in Canada!”

He bit out his reply, sounding frustrated. “So? If I had known you’d be getting yourself into trouble like this, I wouldn’t have left in the first place. I only came home because Ryan stone-walled me and you and I broke up. Now I know a bit of what’s going on, thanks to you finally sharing something with me, so I’m coming. What am I going to do in Saltford? Get a landscaping job? I’ll go crazy waiting for news from you. Why be here when I could be there helping?”

My heart drummed wildly, hardly knowing what to do with this information. I was relieved, frightened, excited, shocked. “What will you tell your parents?”

“The truth, or a sanitized version of it, anyway. Don’t worry about it. I know how to handle them. I’m not a kid anymore.”

I stared out the window at the blur of green countryside flying by, old stone cottages bristling with roses and wisteria. “Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say and I was so grateful my muscles felt weak.

“You’re welcome. Listen, I’d better go. By the time you’ve landed in Naples, I’ll have travel plans. Call me when you’re settled in this mafia-provided house.” He added under his breath. “Bloody hell, Saxony.”

“Okay.” I brushed at my eyes, feeling full of emotion but too dazed to know how to express it all.

“And please, be careful.”

“I will. You too.”

He snorted, then: “Bye.”