Consumed by Fire (6 page)

Which was a relief, she told herself. Depressing, demoralizing, but a relief. She wasn’t up to dealing with someone like him. She preferred safety, reliability. And besides, he wasn’t interested.

She realized another silence had fallen while he watched her, a speculative expression in his unreadable dark eyes. She laughed, just a little nervously. “I’m sorry,” she said, taking a sip of her own cappuccino. For some reason he’d known she’d prefer it to espresso. “I’m drifting off again.”

“You won’t be drifting off with that coffee in your system,” he pointed out pleasantly. “And it’s early. I’d suggest we go for a walk but I think the storm is about to hit.”

She hadn’t been paying attention—not when there was something else so gorgeous to look at. She glanced overhead into the night sky. The stars were gone, hidden by the black, scudding clouds, and the poplar trees swayed in the breeze. She could feel the ozone in the air, the approach of the rain, and she wondered how long it had been like this, and whether he knew she’d been too mesmerized by him to pay attention to an imminent downpour.

Here they were, sitting out in the open, about to get soaked. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been talking my head off and you’ve been wanting to get in out of the weather. I’ve kept you . . .”

“Why do you keep apologizing?” he said lazily, not moving from his relaxed position. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Yet
, she thought. If she didn’t get away from him she was going to make a complete and utter fool of herself. She couldn’t tell whether he was sending her mixed signals or if she was looking for signs that didn’t exist. Italian men flirted. European men flattered. James Bishop had lived here long enough that he would have picked up both habits.

“Sorry,” she said, and then gave a little laugh, annoyed with herself. “It’s a bad habit of mine.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he mimicked lightly. “Come to bed with me.”

For a moment she thought she’d misheard him. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said come to bed with me,” he said, still that lazy voice that signaled no strong interest at all. “I could teach you not to be sorry about anything.”

The words hit her directly between her legs, an odd sensation. Words had never been that arousing in her life. Odd, because her few healthy relationships had been with fellow graduate students and academics, supposedly good with words.

She stared at him in shock, but at least her mouth wasn’t agape in astonishment. That was about the only blessing. “You’re kidding,” she blurted, feeling utterly stupid.

“Oh, I never kid about sex. You’re the most delicious creature I’ve seen or talked to in so long I can’t remember, and I’ve wanted to fuck you since I saw you in that church, which was very unholy of me.”

“But I . . .” Whatever she was going to say was lost, as the gorgeous woman who’d been by James’s side that afternoon suddenly appeared, dropping down into one of the empty chairs as if she belonged there.

“We’ve got a problem,” she said abruptly. And then, as if she suddenly realized she was intruding, she turned to Evangeline and gave her a dazzling smile. “Hello, there. I’m Claudia Facinelli, James’s associate. You’re the young woman we saw at the church earlier, aren’t you?”

The woman had just the trace of an Italian accent, and her eyes were a bright metallic blue as she surveyed Evangeline. The glance was slow and assessing, but there was no identifiable judgment in it. It was just that she was so elegant in a lean, flat-chested, greyhound kind of way that Evangeline immediately felt plain and clumsy.

“Claudia, you’re interrupting,” James said, sounding bored. “Whatever it is, it can certainly wait until tomorrow morning.” He made no effort to introduce her to his partner, and Evangeline wondered whether she should do it herself.

“I don’t think so,” the woman named Claudia said. “Apparently our recent efforts came to someone’s attention, and repercussions are going to be very unpleasant unless we do something about it.
Now
.”

James didn’t move, but Evangeline knew he’d tensed. “I’m sorry,” she said, and then could have kicked herself for another stupid apology. “I’ll let you two deal with business. Thank you for the lovely meal, James. I don’t expect I’ll see you again—I’m leaving early tomorrow morning for the north, probably long before you wake up. But I’ve had a lovely time, even though all I seemed to do was talk about myself. But maybe that was why I had such a good time,” she added, knowing she was babbling. She pushed away from the table and at that James immediately rose as well. The woman stayed where she was.

“Claudia has a habit of exaggerating things,” he said, unruffled, ignoring the fact that Claudia was watching the two of them quite closely. As if there was anything to see, Evangeline thought morosely. She shouldn’t have had the second glass of wine at dinner, nor the liqueur before coffee. “I thought we might go for a walk before the storm hits . . .”

“I told you this had to be dealt with now,” Claudia hissed. He didn’t even glance at her, moving from behind the table to take Evangeline’s elbow with a light touch that made her skin burn with longing. Damn it, what was wrong with her? She didn’t like being touched by strangers, and yet the feel of his hand on her arm made her want to lean against him.

Claudia finally rose, putting herself directly between them, breaking their contact, and for a brief moment Evangeline wondered why the woman seemed so determined. Evangeline was hardly any kind of threat to James’s associate. She was just a fellow American he’d taken pity on.

No, there had been no pity in his dark, mesmerizing eyes. She wasn’t sure what she’d seen there, but whatever it was, it made her nervous. Had he meant it when he asked her to go to bed with him? He’d sounded almost casual about it, like he was suggesting an aperitif.

She slipped away from him quite easily. “The storm is coming,” she said. “Thanks again.” A moment later she was on her own.

Bishop watched Claudia out of narrowed eyes. “Was that really necessary?” he murmured. He wasn’t about to let Claudia see how much she annoyed him. “I was making progress. I’m almost certain she saw nothing, suspects nothing, but as you said, we can’t afford to leave any loose ends.”

“She’s already a loose end,” Claudia snapped. “And Corsini’s body has been discovered by a couple of hikers. Someone came tearing into town a few minutes ago, and all hell is about to break loose while you’re busy trying to get into that girl’s pants. Shoot her and get it done with, and then let’s get the hell out of here.”

“So we disappear in the middle of the night when a murder victim is found, and you think that will throw suspicion off us? You’re being ridiculous. We have nothing to worry about—we were at business meetings all day. Our alibis are already set up and they’re airtight.”

“Airtight unless your American plaything decides to put two and two together, something she seems entirely capable of doing.”

“So she’s found dead, bringing attention to the guests at this hotel?” he suggested. Claudia hated to be thwarted, but he wasn’t about to let her get her way this time.

“Don’t be foolish—we’d move her. Or I would, if you’re too squeamish to deal with it. I’ve never known you to be sentimental before, Bishop. Or has she got some kind of supernatural pussy that’s got you hypnotized?”

“You overestimate my charms, darling Claudia,” he purred. “I haven’t gotten her in bed yet.”

“Either you kill her or I will.”

He gave her a long, measuring look. Claudia enjoyed killing, and she used every excuse she could think of to do it. She’d wanted Evangeline dead since she first saw her, and the more arguments he came up with, the more determined she was. In the end there would be very little he could do to stop her.

“I’ll take care of her,” he said in a flat voice, evading a direct answer. “In the meantime you need to go up to bed, take someone with you who can vouch for your presence, and I’ll do the same. No one can trace us to the church but Evangeline, and the more skittish you act, the more suspicious we’ll seem.”

“I’m never skittish,” Claudia said haughtily. “And I can’t pick up just anyone. You know my tastes are . . . specialized.”

“It’s up to you. I’ll take care of Evangeline and arrange my own night’s entertainment. Find someone and spend the night talking to them if they aren’t fuckable by your standards. I don’t care.”

Her face was like marble, hard, white, beautiful, with no emotion or life in it. “Do not, I repeat, do not make the mistake of lying to me, Bishop.”

He smiled down at her lazily. “I lie to you all the time, my sweet. It comes with the territory.” The wind had picked up, and waiters appeared, clearing the table as the empty wine glasses were tipped over. He cast a gaze at the roiling night sky. “Evangeline is right—there’s a storm coming. Best take care.”

He strolled away from her, relaxed, at ease, refusing to let Claudia know how she’d annoyed him. He headed for the winding stairs in the lobby. The restaurant was crowded now, people were coming in to escape the weather, and he took a cursory glance to see if there was someone he should take to bed. He hadn’t ruled out Claudia’s demands, and it was best she thought he was being practical, so he allowed his gaze to linger. There was a Nordic blonde with endless legs and an athletic body, a gorgeous black woman with fiery eyes, and an elegant older woman who could be an enticing possibility. All three were with groups, rather than one man, but even if they had partners for the night that would prove little obstacle. Turning, he was ready to continue up the stairs when he saw Claudia watching him with her cold eyes. If she was that determined to see Evangeline dead, then sooner or later she’d have her way. There was only so long he could protect the girl, and for what? For all he knew she was just as much of a liability as Claudia insisted she was, particularly once she heard about the dead man in the church. He ought to be practical. He wouldn’t leave her to Claudia’s tender mercies—she liked to inflict pain, whereas for him, killing was simply part of the business. He had no emotions regarding it, but then, he had no emotions anyway. He was wasting his time with Evangeline, when he had things to take care of.

Claudia didn’t follow him up the winding stairs to the first floor. She didn’t see him head up to the second, and then up, up into the steamy third floor of the old hotel with its ancient walls and the sighs of a thousand lovers lingering within them. The hotel wasn’t full, and Evangeline was the only guest in the cheaper quarters on the third floor. Silvio never stinted on information, even when it involved another guest. A very practical man, Silvio was.

Bishop reached the top floor and proceeded to unfasten his tie, stripping it from his shirt. How did she stand it up here? It was like a steam bath. He heard the loud thumping of an old fan from one of the rooms—that would be hers. Anything that made noise was an advantage in his profession, but the windows in the hall and the ancient skylights overhead were open to the night breeze and the sounds below, and he knew from experience that Italian police sirens were very loud. She would hear them, and she would wonder. And she would ask.

Her door opened. She was barefoot but still dressed, and she had clothes and towels over her arm. She froze when she saw him.

He didn’t move either. He had been working her all evening, knowing just what to say to put her at ease, the best way to throw off her equilibrium, and he’d felt the pull between them with reluctant acceptance. He’d done everything he could to make her want him. Unfortunately he was far from immune from those desires. He wanted to push her back into her bedroom, down on the narrow bed he could see behind her, and fuck her blind. He wanted her naked breasts against him, her legs wrapped around his hips; he wanted to lose himself, just for tonight, in the sweetness she tried to hide.

Instead he was supposed to kill her?

Not this time. This was one piece of collateral damage who wasn’t going to be sacrificed to the angry gods of world safety. One young woman wasn’t going to make any difference in the long run, and if it came to a showdown with Claudia there was more than a good chance he would win.

None of this showed on his face. He stood in the shadows, but she knew exactly who he was, and she hadn’t retreated into her room and slammed the door. She stayed where she was, looking at him, and he realized she didn’t know what to do next. What an odd creature, this woman who didn’t know how to claim her own sexuality. There was so much he could show her. If he had the time.

He didn’t even understand why she was so attractive to him. She was far from his normal type, with her flyaway hair and stubborn mouth. He’d fucked women for business and for pleasure, and he was sure he could come up with a good justification to take this one to bed. He just wasn’t sure why he wanted to.

Maybe it was because he might have to kill her, and he didn’t want to do it until he was sure it was necessary. It was hard for a woman to hide anything when she was enjoying the best sex of her life, which he intended to give her. If she had to die, then at least she’d die happy, not even knowing what happened to her. If he decided she could live, then there was no way he was going to let Claudia’s strong hands and perfect marksmanship get anywhere near her.