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Sliding forward, I fell onto my knees and braced my elbows on the back of the bench in front of us, then looked over my shoulder. “You get on your knees.”
Cal’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide.
“That wasn’t innuendo, sweetheart. I meant like this.” I gestured at my position. “To pray.”
His gaze swept over me slowly as he slid off the pew in slow motion. My eyes took him in, surrounded by the gold the church was famous for, the soft, low light casting deep shadows on his face. He looked like a fallen angel sent to tempt me, and before my brain had time to communicate with my mouth, I said, “God, you look good on your knees.”
The corner of Cal’s mouth twitched, and he leaned in close. “Blasphemy and lust? Pretty sure these people have rules about both.”
Cal’s sea salt and cedar scent mixing with the incense hanging in the air and the faint aroma of burning candles made a shudder roll through me I had no hope of hiding with him so close. My dick twitched behind my zipper. Pretty sure there was some rule about getting hard in a church too.
When our eyes met again, Cal’s burned, and I had no doubt he saw the same in mine.
“You can’t look at me like that. Not here.”
He blinked slowly, and when he opened his eyes, the fire was banked. “I know.”
A low creak broke the moment and pulled our attention to where Scivolo’s men were seated. Azzura Scivolo stepped out of the box closest to where they were waiting. She had removed the turquoise scarf and oversized sunglasses she’d been wearing on the boat, and from here, I could make out her features. She was lovely, with dark hair that brushed past her shoulders curling at the ends. Her age barely showed in her face, the lines around her large brown eyes faint. Her clothes were trendy but appropriate for church, and her low heels clicked against the travertine floor as she moved to where her men sat. She looked like a vintage Hollywood starlet who had, like a fine wine, improved with age. There was almost a shrewdness in her bearing, an economy of movement that no doubt had made her an excellent thief. There were some things a person couldn’t learn, and Azzura Scivolo looked like she had been born to steal—art and hearts.
Cal and I hung back, watching her as she and the two men with her moved into the main area of the church. Cal tried to stand to go after her, but I pulled him back down.
“What are you doing? She’s leaving.”
“Yes, and if we go running after her, she’s going to know we’re following her. Give it a minute.”
Cal ground his teeth. “She’s getting away.”
“Relax, sweetheart. It’s going to take her time to get through the crowd.”
“Exactly.”
I made a show of looking at my watch, staying where I was for another two minutes before I finally rose and started toward the main section of the church. For someone who’d been ready to chase Scivolo down just minutes before, it took Cal a second to catch up. The crowd was heavy, but Scivolo and her men stood out. They weren’t looking around the church, taking in the frescoes and artwork, but rather moving at a leisurely pace toward the Basilica’s main doors. We followed through the throng of people in the church. Along the way, I made Cal pause and pretend to look at something. The third time I did it, he pulled his arm out of my grasp.
“Will you stop that? We’re going to lose them.”
“We will not.”
Cal growled, but the sound was swallowed up by all the people around us. By the time we began pursuing Scivolo again, she was nearly at the door. This time, we slotted into a group of tourists who were also leaving and followed her all the way out into Piazza San Marco. The number of tourists in the square was staggering, but it made for good cover, and I grabbed Cal’s wrist and then his hand for two reasons. First, I didn’t want him to be the one I lost in the melee of tourists, and second, I didn’t trust him not to waltz right up to Scivolo and ask her point-blank about the painting.
Towing a disgruntled Cal along, I moved to the other side of the square and stayed parallel to the trio we were tailing, watching them from the corner of my eye.
When they took two tables at a cafe near the edge of the square—the bodyguards at one closest to the edge of the square and Scivolo at a table closer to the building—I dragged Cal to a similar cafe across the square, requesting a table where I could keep Scivolo and her men in my sights.
“I’m getting really tired of asking, so maybe you could just tell me what we’re doing.” Cal crossed his arms over his chest and looked across the square to see a pastry and an espresso being delivered to Scivolo’s table.
“We’re observing.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I know that, asshole. Why?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Have you really, in all the ops you’ve worked, never had to observe a target?”
“Uh, no. Not really. Someone else usually gave me the details of where the target was going to be and when, and I took them out, or if it was a rescue op, I was told when to go in. I did and then got out. This wait-and-see shit is for the birds.”
As if they understood what Cal had just said, a flock of pigeons took flight from the square, momentarily obscuring the cafe across the square.
“I thought you said you’ve done recon.”
Cal scoffed. “This isn’t recon. This is sitting around waiting for something to happen.”
