A Shot of Red (17 page)

Gio told me…suspected something was goin…

What had he told Brent that had anything to do with the rest of his letter? Gio sat on the edge of the bed and propped his elbows on his knees.

“Think.”

He knew nothing about the paintings on Spreuer Bridge. Ditto for the syringe vendor, the delayed shipments, and the different city of origin. He tapped his foot on the floor, trying to trigger a useful thought. Mia had mentioned Matthew’s meeting with Sorensen from the WHO. About the only thing Gio had contributed to the conversation was that Senator Moncure and Secretary Dartmouth had come to Lucerne for a meeting, too. Gio lifted his head and gazed out the windows. He squinted at the hazy gray sky and nodded slowly.

He and Brent had talked about that meeting. Gio had still been in a funk over Mia leaving—and so had Brent. Matthew had been scheduled to sit in on a meeting about preliminary plans for the One Shot campaign, but he’d jetted off to Switzerland instead. Brent had mentioned that Matthew couldn’t make the meeting because of his trip, and his appointment with Thomas Sorensen. That’s when Gio had told him that Senator Moncure and Secretary Dartmouth were meeting with Sorensen, too.

That had to be what Brent was referring to in the letter. Gio could see how Mia had interpreted it the way she did. Certainly she was more paranoid than he was that Brent would find out about their connection since he’d hoped to get back together with Mia. If it had only been a one-night stand, that would’ve been bad enough. But what had happened between Gio and Mia went way beyond mind-blowing sex—down to raw emotion—and was still going on to this day. Neither he nor Mia wanted Brent to suffer the kind of hurt that finding out about their night together would cause. Besides, their chemistry had nothing to do with Brent—when Mia and Gio were together in bed, it was only about the two of them. Heat warmed Gio’s blood, and this time it wasn’t from anger.

Before his thoughts got hijacked, Gio grabbed his phone and sent Mia a text.

Time is short. We need to talk
.

Despite his conflicted loyalties, he was ready to find out more about the meeting among Matthew, Senator Moncure, Secretary Dartmouth, Thomas Sorensen—and he knew just where to start.

Chapter Twenty

Mia hurried out of the museum and caught a cab back to her hotel, freaked out but eager to make sense of what the Chinese woman had said about the beads on her bracelet.

Xiang si dou
. Be careful. These can kill you.

The woman’s last words had been such a contradiction to the ones she’d spoken before she’d left with her group.

Mutual love beads. Longtime symbol of love in China.

Mia would never know what had compelled the woman to rush back into the gallery, warn her about the beads, and leave just as quickly. So many questions had been on the tip of her tongue as she stood there, stunned, as the woman scurried away.

“What do you mean?” was all she managed to say. But by then, the woman was gone.

Back at her hotel, Mia went to her room, settled in with her view of the river, and booted up her laptop. A search for
xiang si dou
brought up several pages of results. She clicked on the second link and quickly learned that the beads on her bracelet were not technically beads, but seeds.
Abrus precatorius
, also called jequirity beans, crab’s eye, rosary pea, Indian licorice, and jumbie beads. They grew in a variety of colors in tropical areas on invasive climbing vines. Red-and-black seeds were most common—the ones shown in the picture reminded Mia of ladybugs—but there were also rarer varieties of green, black, and ivory.

The seeds grew all over the world, yet the article highlighted how people in Trinidad strung the seeds into bracelets and wore them around their wrists or ankles to ward off evil spirits they called jumbies, and mal-yeux—the evil eye. But the danger they’d hoped to ward off was exactly what they experienced. Several people had died from pricking their fingers while boring the seeds for beadwork. Had that been why the Chinese woman had warned her? Maybe she thought Mia had made her own bracelet.

Mia scrolled down a little farther to find out what made the seeds so dangerous.

Seeds are toxic due to the presence of abrin, a natural poison.

Mia’s phone rang just as she clicked to search further. She pulled it from her purse and glanced at the screen.

Gio.

Clearly he didn’t intend to leave her alone. Maybe he was ready to apologize, although that would only be the start of what he’d have to do to earn her forgiveness for what he’d said. It surprised her that she’d consider forgiving him at all.

But you did accuse him…

One tap on the screen and they were connected.

“Hello.”

“You hungry?” Gio asked. “I’ve found a restaurant where Matthew, your mom, and Secretary Dart—”

“Richard.” Would he ever drop the formality?

“Richard, had dinner with Thomas Sorensen and a woman named Katia Glasser last March. They ran up a hell of a tab. It’s a long shot, but maybe someone there will remember something that can help us.”

Mia appreciated that he’d been digging up a lead. “It’s worth a try.”

“The place is called Wirtshaus Taube on Burgerstrasse. Right on the waterfront.” He was in just-the-facts mode, and Mia was fine with that. Maybe now that they were at separate hotels on opposite sides of the river they could focus on the business of why they were there and leave their relationship out of it. But was that what she really wanted?

“Can you be there in fifteen minutes?” he asked.

Mia clicked open a map on her computer screen and found the restaurant. She could make it in less time than that. The place was just across the river from her hotel. “I think so.”

“I’ll see you there. And Mia…be careful.”

…

Gio arrived first at Wirtshaus Taube, a restaurant that specialized in local cuisine, tucked inside an historic building. Nerves on edge, he worried about Mia getting there safely, and what the vibe would be like between them when she did.

He stepped inside, surprised at how small and quaint the place was. Rustic in the old tradition, it had heavily plastered walls, arched doorways, and a couple of windows in the rear that let in natural light. The ceilings and one of the walls in the back room were paneled with dark, rough-hewn wood and featured a sliding wooden door that brought to mind a carriage house or stable. Definitely not the kind of place he imagined would attract Senator Moncure and Secretary Dartmouth. Or even Matthew. But maybe Thomas Sorensen and Katia Glasser had recommended it.

The restaurant was nearly deserted, but it was an odd time of day to be eating. Too late for lunch, too early for dinner. Gio’s stomach was jacked up from the time difference anyway, and all the stress kept it in knots.

“Hey,” Mia said from behind him.

Gio knew her voice as if he’d been hearing it all of his life. He turned and faced her, relieved to find her unharmed and back where he could keep an eye on her—at least until she ran away again, although he hoped like hell that didn’t happen. The cold had made her cheeks pink, and her eyes sparkled bright blue. Her windswept hair was pulled back in a low braided ponytail that fell in front of her shoulder. The sight of her never failed to get his blood pumping south.

He reached out and smoothed his fingers along the silky end of her ponytail. “You look like Swiss Miss, but way hotter.” That wouldn’t do for an apology, but it might be a good start.

She gave him a hint of a smile. “And you look like Thor.”

“But way hotter?”

She bunched her lips. “Don’t push your luck.”

A young hostess came to seat them as he gave her a satisfied grin. At least they were talking.

“
Tisch für zwei
?” the hostess asked.

Mia nodded. “
Durch die fenster finden sie
.”

The hostess smiled and led them into the back room. Gio cast a sidelong glance at Mia, his eyebrows lowered. At the table, he helped her take off her coat, then shrugged his off and hung them on a nearby hook. He pulled out Mia’s chair, waited for her to sit, then sat across from her. Forget about the river out front. He had the best view in the place.

“What?” she asked.

“You speak German?”

“Enough to get us a table by the window.”

There was so much about her he didn’t know, and he’d bet that most of what he’d learn would continue to impress him. He opened his menu and studied it for a while. “Good thing the German is translated into English for me. It’s like ‘Ordering Swiss Food for Dummies.’”

She shook her head.

The food was described as authentic—“your grandmother’s dishes”—and most of them looked good to Gio. “It’s going to be hard to decide.”

“Want me to order for us?” Mia asked. “It’ll be a surprise.”

“That goes against some of my baser, caveman instincts, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

“You’re sure in a better mood than you were earlier.” She didn’t look up from her menu.

So much for the casual vibe. “Mia, I—”

A waiter stepped up to the table.

Gio looked up at the waiter, who reminded him of a younger version of Hugh Grant. He wore a white shirt, black pants, and a bright-blue apron tied around his narrow waist. “English?” Gio asked.

The waiter smiled. “Yes. Pretty good.” His syllables sounded staccato.

“How about two
Eichoffs
, and
Chögalipaschtetli
for both of us?” Mia gave him her million-dollar smile and Gio could tell the guy was a goner. He could relate.

“Excellent choices,” the waiter said, his eyes never leaving her until he walked away.

“Tell me at least one of those things is a beer,” Gio said.

She gave him a sly, I’ve-got-a-secret look and shrugged. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

She shifted in her seat and gave the restaurant a thorough once-over. “I can’t see my mother and Richard coming here.”

“I thought the same thing, but this is the place. Here’s a copy of the receipt.” Gio pulled it up on his phone and slid it across the heavy wooden table. “Your mom claimed it as a business expense and listed everyone who was here with her. Richard,” he said just to keep her from correcting him, “Matthew, Thomas Sorensen, and Katia Glasser.”

Mia’s eyes went wide. “How did you get this?”

“I have access to the trip records. We don’t often divulge such specific information, but I have access to it in case something comes up and we need to spin a story.”

“Is that a professional way of saying you need to know what happens so you can cover my mother’s political ass?”

“Yes.”

“Is there a flag that goes up somewhere in the system when a certain record has been accessed?” Mia rubbed her temple as if she had a headache coming on. “Because if my mom gets the slightest whiff of this, we’re screwed.”

His temper flared again. “As if I didn’t know that, Mia. She thinks I’m at home with the flu, and here I am on another damn continent digging far too deep into something that could turn really ugly and cost me my job.”

“I understand,” she said calmly, surprising him. “We’re not going to get anywhere without taking risks.”

The waiter brought a glass of water for each of them, and two beers. Gio took a long slug of his the second the guy stepped away from the table. “I’m not sure what that receipt even tells us, except that they were all here, and they ate and drank a lot. Other than that…”

“It’s more information than we had before.” She drank her water and let her beer sit. “There are just too many questions and nothing’s connecting. I admit that I wondered if Brent just latched onto some conspiracy theory that occurred to him because of random, disassociated things that he thought were related, but weren’t.” She slid his phone back across the table. “But after someone tried to kill me, too,” she said, her fearful gaze meeting his, “I figured there was something to it.”

Gio nodded solemnly.

“Wouldn’t the conspiracy thing have been the best-case scenario?” she asked. “I mean other than the fact that Brent died?” Tugging at the end of her ponytail, she seemed to give her questions some thought.

Gio was saved from answering by the waiter who placed plates in front them, each stacked with golden-brown puff pastry and overflowing from the top with chunks of meat in thick gravy. He inhaled deeply and the scent had him thinking that now was a good time to eat after all.

“I’ve never had anything this puffy on my plate before. What kind of meat is this?” he asked Mia after the waiter left.

“Veal.” She took a quick bite.

“Smells awesome.”

The hostess came over and filled Mia’s water glass. “Tasty?” Clearly she spoke some English, too.

“Mmm.” Mia nodded.

“I love your bracelet,” the hostess said to Mia.

Gio had thought it was nice, too. Delicate and beautiful—like her.

Mia’s cheeks reddened for some reason, and she glanced self-consciously at Gio. “Thank you.”

“I have one a lot like it,” the hostess said. “But mine has black beads.”

Mia put down her fork and blotted her mouth with her napkin. “Do they sell them around here? I got mine as a gift, and I’d like to buy a couple to give away, too.”

“I don’t think so. Not in stores, anyway.” The hostess set the water carafe on a nearby table and tucked her hands in her back pockets. “But the Dragon Lady is a regular here, and she sells them. That’s where I got mine.”

“The Dragon Lady?” Gio asked.

Mia gazed expectantly at the hostess.

“That’s what people call her. I guess she calls herself that, too. She lives up on Mount Pilatus. She’s, like, somehow related to someone who was supposedly killed by a dragon back in medieval times.”

Gio didn’t know if he was more amazed by the story the hostess was telling, how well she spoke English, or that she even had the annoying tendency to randomly say “like” as if she were truly American.

“That’s pretty wild.” Mia seemed captivated, surprising Gio. He hadn’t taken her for the type who’d be fascinated by myths—or much by jewelry, now that he thought about it. “Any idea how I can get a couple more bracelets from her? I haven’t seen any quite like these in the States.”

The hostess nodded. “Give me a second.” She picked up the water carafe and headed toward the kitchen.

He raised his eyebrows teasingly. “You into dragons?”

She gazed at him, dead serious. “You have no idea.”

The hostess came back to the table and handed Mia a business card. “All you have to do is give her a call, and she’ll set something up with you.”

Mia looked a little hesitant. “I’d feel kinda awkward just calling her, being that I’m a stranger and all.” She had Gio’s full attention now. He’d never seen her lack for confidence, or hesitate to take the lead. “Since you know her, do you think you might call her for me—kind of like an introduction so it won’t be out of the blue?” Now Mia was talking like the hostess, too. He’d seen that tactic before and it was working well for Mia. The hostess seemed eager to help her.

The girl tipped her head to one side and nodded. “Sure. I could do that. Are you thinking, like, tomorrow sometime?” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket.

“Oh,” Mia said. “You’re gonna call her right now? That’s awesome.” She held out the business card so the hostess could see the phone number and waited while she tapped it on her screen. When she finished, Mia put the card faceup on the table. She took a bite of her veal and chewed deliberately, shifting her gaze between Gio and the hostess.

All this over a couple of bracelets? Something more was going on here and Gio was eager to find out what. He tossed back another slug of beer.

The hostess sat on the edge of a chair at an adjacent table, her phone pressed to her ear. “Um, hi. Is this Katia?” she asked.