The Forty Column Castle (14 page)

I gave him a you-got-to-be-kidding look. “Not this lady. I want a shower and a bed,
bare minimum. Why don’t we go to Yannis’s? His house isn’t far.”

“So he can call the police to pick us up?”

I shrugged happily. “Worse could happen. Your friends could shoot you.”

He frowned at me like he didn’t like my use of language. “I have a better idea. We’ll
walk to the main drag and catch that taxi you were trying to get earlier to Limasol.
Excellent choice, now that we have no car.”

I didn’t think my legs would carry me back out to the street. These flip-flops were
not made for rough terrain, and I could feel a new blister forming every minute. But
I had to find my aunt.

“Do you have the address of Mr. Bellomo?”

“Right here in my pocket.” He held up the corner of the napkin from this morning’s
breakfast. “Let’s get a taxi to Limasol.”

“A five star hotel?” I asked, as we pulled up in front of the Amathus Hotel complete
with beach on the Mediterranean and private pools. I’d only fantasized about a room
here since it was a bit pricey for my vacation budget.

“Thieves don’t normally stay in five stars, do they?” Zach said. “This would be the
last place police would look. Thieves normally stay in seedy hotels with bare light
bulbs and half-lit neon signs, don’t they?”

I sighed but didn’t move from the back seat of the taxi. “I thought we were going
to find Mr. Bellomo first?”

He shrugged. “We need a land line phone. It might as well be in a posh hotel room
as the pay phone on a dark street corner.”

“I notice you are making decisions without consulting me. Are we back to the captive-captor
thing? I had gotten the impression we were moving toward team work a bit earlier today.”

I gave him a big, false smile.

He grasped my chin like a lover this time and brushed his lips across mine. Like that
made up for everything. I still didn’t know what the score was.

He came around and helped me out. I tried not to hobble and was dying to take off
the flip-flops. The lobby was huge with marble floors, chandeliers, big vases of cut
flowers, heavy on the bird-of-paradise. I had once enjoyed lunch in the terrace restaurant
that overlooked the sea. Lots of palm trees in big terra cotta pots. Warm sea breezes.
Patrons loaded with gold jewelry and sporting expensive hair cuts. Superb food.

Zach strode to the check-in counter like he owned the place. I stood close and smiled.
He asked for one of the rooms with private pools, avoiding my raised eyebrows. Our
registration name was Mr. and Mrs. H. Moon. He pulled out the stack of plastic cards,
flipped through and selected one. Did he have a collection of cards with various aliases?
But he pocketed the cards before I could get a better look. The transaction went through
without a hitch. We had a place for the night.

The clerk in spiffy gray uniform trimmed in gold and maroon looked us over and peeked
over the counter.

“Your luggage, sir?”

“The airline lost it and said it will follow later. We’ll step over to the gift shop
and pick up a few things.”

“Of course,” the clerk said with a hotel smile and turned to help the next customer.

Zach steered me into the designer gift shop. We both picked out clothes. They even
had underwear. I picked out two pair of thongs, Zack intent upon my selection but
speaking only with his eyes, a pair of tan Capri pants, white cotton blouse, and sandals
resplendent with fake green jewels and copper sequins that were so tacky I loved them.
I saw a slinky little black sundress and threw it on top of the pile. Zach put my
stuff with his selection -- a pair of tan pants and a white polo shirt.

Our room was to- the-extreme with balcony, sitting room and its own private pool with
Jacuzzi. That had possibilities, but I was too tired to think. Muted dove gray and
cream colors gave the room an elegant air with more cut flowers and a bottle of champagne
chilling in a bucket. Nice touch. I checked out the bath with Jacuzzi and turned on
the hot water tap to fill the tub while Zach worked on opening the champagne.

He came into the bathroom and handled me a glass of bubbly. “I ordered room service.
They are sending up wine and mezzas. Room for two in there?”

“No, I’m tired and have a headache.” The satisfaction in saying that was enormous
and appropriate punishment for a thief and liar.

He looked so sad I almost relented, but I knew I had to stand firm. “What about Mr.
Bellomo?”

Zach sat on the side of the tub and took a long sip from his glass of champagne. “I’m
going to track him down as soon as I finish this champagne. I’ve worked up a terrible
thirst.” He finished it off and sat the glass down. “If you won’t let me into your
bath, I guess I’ll have to shower.”

He unbuttoned his shirt, dropped it on the floor and shed his shorts. I looked away.
It would be the end of what little self-respect I had left. I busied myself at the
tub facet, playing with the hot and cold to get it just right. A line of bottles on
the sink gleamed in the bright lights over the mirror. I found ambrosia bath bubbles
and dumped in half the bottle. Perfect.

I tried hard not to look in Zach’s direction. With a huge, sad sigh he had entered
the shower and sang away. He had a baritone to equal Sherrill Milne. I love baritones.
My insides got all squishy. He was singing “On the Street Where You Live” from
My Fair Lady
. Why that song? Why now? There was no end to his bag of tricks.

I started to strip and realized I might sneak in a phone call while he was preoccupied
in the shower. I grabbed a towel and went into the bedroom to take off my clothes.
Purse. Where was my purse? I couldn’t find it anywhere. I looked through the drawers
of a very large dresser, under the bed, in the closet, pulled on the door of the armoire.
Locked. The guy trusted me, didn’t he? He had locked up my bag with all my numbers.

I couldn’t remember Yannis’s number. There was no time to look up the police. I wasn’t
sure I wanted to call them anyway, but I did know my own office number and Lena’s
home number so I pushed hers in. It would be middle of the night in Boston. Hopefully,
Lena would be in and not spending the night with her latest flame. It rang eight times.
C’mon Lena, answer. The message machine came on. She was out. Didn’t she know I was
trying to reach her?

“Lena, wish you were in. I only have sixty seconds. I desperately need you to do a
background check on Zachariah Lamont who uses aliases H. Moon and Henry Dellinger.
Please, as soon as possible, send me a text message on my cell phone. I’ll try to
call later.”

Less than sixty seconds. I hung up, striped off my clothes, wrapped the towel around
my body, and strode into the bathroom.

Zach was nonchalantly toweling off. “Who’d you call?”

“Me? Call? I was taking off my clothes, look.” I flashed open the towel, dropped it
and stepped into the bath. It was deliciously hot, and I sank in like a hippo in a
mud wallow.

He smirked, wrapped the big white, fluffy towel around his waist in sudden modesty
and stepped into the other room.

My hand enveloped the stem of the tulip champagne glass and I took several, long smooth
sips. Dom Perignon. I saw the bottle. My taste buds are not that discerning. Very,
very nice. The sedative effect of the alcohol and the hot, bubbly water made my muscles
go limp. I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation.

“Lena. You called Lena.”

I didn’t bother to open my eyes. “So?”

“Want to tell me what you told her.”

“I asked her to run a background check on you.” What was the point in lying?

He came over to stand by the tub. I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me,
those deep brown eyes looking oddly troubled.

“A background check?” He moved his head in that funny way someone does when he doesn’t
quite believe what someone has told him.

“Yes. I want to know who you really are.” I smiled. “Unless you’d like to stop lying
and tell me yourself.”

He laughed. “Room service has arrived. If you’d like to join me, I’ll be on the terrace
enjoying the evening and dinner. Would you like me to wait for you?”

“You go ahead. I’m going to luxuriate here for a while longer.” I held up my glass.
“But I would take another glass of champagne, if you wouldn’t mind.”

He took the glass and brought back two filled to the brim.

“Here, you look like you need it.”

He left me to my bath. I frowned. My self-image took a little hit. Did I look that
bad? Oh hell, who cared? I sank back into that delicious bath and pressed the Jacuzzi
switch. I must have dozed because Zach came looking for me after a while.

“I wanted to make sure you hadn’t drowned.”

I half opened my eyes. I hadn’t even drunk the second glass of champagne. “Lord help
me, I’m tired.”

“Time to sleep later. Better get dressed and have something to eat. I talked to Mr.
Bellomo.”

I was instantly awake. “What does he know about my aunt?”

“He says he is willing to meet with us.”

“What if it’s a set up? What if he calls the police? Then where will we be?”

“I told him that wouldn’t be a good idea, if he wanted to see Elizabeth again.”

I stared at Zach. “He bought that?”

“He laughed and invited us to his house. A good way to control people is to threaten
them.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Zach studied me for a few moments.

Lord help me, he looked good. He had dressed in his new tan slacks but hadn’t pulled
on a shirt. His hair was slicked back. He’d even shaved. He stood there half-dressed,
muscles bulging. It should be a sin to be that handsome and well-built, know it and
flaunt it.

“Excuse me, but I’d like some privacy to finish my bath.”

He smirked. He was getting that facial expression down. “I’ll fix you a plate while
I wait on the terrace.”

I smiled, and he left.

“Oh, would you mind bringing in my new clothing?” I called out as I lathered up.

The bag from the fancy shop sailed through the door and landed on the floor by the
tub. Special delivery. At least they had decent hair dryers at a five star hotel.
I was able to blow dry mine into something presentable, sort of flipped up. I admired
my new duds as I pulled on a hot pink thong, Capri pants and white shirt. I love new
clothes. I slipped into the sandals and wiggled my toes. They were so cute.

On the terrace I smelled the cigar before I saw it in Zach’s hand. He hadn’t put on
his shirt and held a brandy snifter in the same hand as the cigar. He stood looking
over our private pool into the courtyard beyond. His back was to me, and I admired
the lines. Sculpted came to mind. This man knew how to live. A high class thief. But
was he?

Would that this be any other time, any other situation. It would be perfect. I could
anticipate the night to come in bed with Zachariah Lamont. All night long. I had a
hot flash thinking about it. But I was wrapped up in a crazy, deadly game. There would
be no long night ahead to enjoy. I had to find my aunt. Then this whole misunderstanding
would be cleared up.

He turned and seemed to drink me in. “Wow, you look two hundred per cent improved.
Nice outfit, the sandals especially.”

I said in my sweetest voice, “Would you mind unlocking the armoire so I can get my
purse and makeup?”

“You don’t need any make up. You look great without it.”

My smile stuck to my face. “I’d like my purse. A girl feels naked without one.”

“Naked I like.” He grinned, fished in his pants pocket, and tossed the key to me.

I put on black mascara and rose blush, decided that would do since that’s all I carried
with me and went out to join Zach, carrying my glass of champagne with me. I put the
key to the armoire in my pocket.

He had fixed me a plate of grape leaves and salad and sat beside me. I wasn’t in a
chatty mood, more pensive than tired. I ate in silence, relishing the feeling of food
in my belly.

“You okay?” he asked, working on his cigar and brandy, a tiny note of concern in his
voice.

I leaned back in the chair and sipped the champagne savoring its dry, brisk taste.
“Things could be better.”

I looked over at him and something in the way the soft area lighting caught in his
eyes, something about the way his mouth turned up, made me laugh. Like he understood
how okay things weren’t. He started laughing, and I couldn’t stop, and then it turned
to tears for me.

“Hey,” he said and handed me a clean napkin from the room tray. “Don’t cry. I hate
to see a woman cry.”

“Right,” I said, sniffing and dabbing at my eyes so my mascara wouldn’t run. “How
many have you made cry in your life?”

“I’m making you cry? Me? Why me?”

“Oh, shut up. Nothing you say makes any sense. I don’t know who you are, or where
my aunt is. And why stay in a five star hotel with a drop dead gorgeous man, if you
can’t screw your brains out all night long.”

“We can still do that,” he said in the soft, sexy voice, “after we come back from
our visit with Mr. Bellomo.”

“Ha. If we come back,” I said. “He probably called the police after he got off the
phone with you.”

Zach shrugged. “Maybe, but I doubt it. Mr. Bellomo is from Sicily. I don’t think the
police play a big part in his life. He’s a business man in the import-export business.
You ever run into any of those guys?”

“No, but you probably have, seeing as how you are a smuggler.”

He studied my expression and sighed. “Claudie.” He was back to the soft, sexy voice.
“Look at me.”

I turned and met his gaze.

“Everything will turn out okay, I promise.”

I hated the tears in my eyes, but they wouldn’t stop. I wasn’t sure why they were
there in the first place. “How can you be wanted by the FBI? What did you do? Why
were you in jail?”

“Darlin’, this place doesn’t lend itself to the sad story of my life. It’s too beautiful
here. The night is too young, the breeze too exotic, the air too laden with romance
and excitement.”