Trigger Read online

  After a few minutes, I noticed someone staring at us. It was the short fellow with spiky hair. My heart started to pound.

  “There is a strange man staring at us,” I murmured to Anna.

  “Where? What does he look like?” she asked, glancing around.

  “Short guy, spiky brown hair to your left,” I explained.

  “I think he’s coming over here.” Her voice was shrill.

  “Get ready,” I said, wrapping my hand around my backpack, preparing to use it as a weapon. I knew his intentions were not good.

  Spiky approached and sat down on the bench next to me.

  “Hallo. How are you today?” He was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

  He accent indicated he was Italian. I wasn’t sure if we should ignore him or if we should get up and walk away. While I debated the best course of action, Spiky spoke again.

  “You are American, yes?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer, but kept watching him without looking directly at him.

  “I would like to show you something special in Roma.” He flashed his teeth in a feral smile.

  When he still got no response he tried again. “You should come with me; I will show you the real Roma.” There was a harsh undertone to his words as if he was fighting to keep them polite.

  “No, thank you,” I said firmly.

  “You really should come with me.” Now it was more of a demand than an invitation.

  “Let’s go,” I said to Anna.

  At that point he reached over and slapped his open hand down my thigh. White-hot anger flared inside me. He was not allowed to touch me.

  I slapped Spiky’s hand away as I stood bolt upright turning to walk away from him. Snarling, he got up and grabbed my right shoulder. Without thinking, I raised my right arm straight up in the air and spun around, breaking free of his grip. Facing him now, I stepped forward, shoving both hands forward at shoulder level with my palms out. I hit him square on the chest, knocking him backwards. He flailed his arms trying to regain his balance while I tensed in readiness for his next move.

  The shock on Spiky’s face was replaced by a look of pure malice. He took one step toward me then froze. There was a flash of fear in his eyes as they focused on something over my shoulder. After a split second’s hesitation, he turned and took off in the opposite direction.

  Alarmed, I whirled around to see what he had been looking at and ran straight into someone. As I ricocheted off rock-solid muscle, a pair of hands clasped onto my arms to steady me. Temporarily immobilized, I struggled before looking up directly into the intense gaze of the tall guy from the train.

  Twice in as many days, I stared at him speechless. The look on his face and the taut readiness of his demeanor were daunting. It dawned on me that the reason that Spiky had taken off was because Blue Eyes had been behind me looking ready to dismember the man piece by piece.

  Blue Eyes looked up in the direction Spiky had fled. With the threat gone, his harsh expression slackened as he turned his gaze back to me. Anna was standing to his left, looking as flabbergasted as I felt.

  “You should be more careful,” he said in a voice as smooth and deep as rich, dark chocolate.

  Already on an emotional rollercoaster fueled by adrenaline, I was incensed by the casualness of the remark. The fact that he was holding me like a rag doll didn’t help. When I found my voice, my response was scathing.

  “When I’m being attacked by random miscreants I tend to focus more on getting rid of them and less on how graceful I appear to the public.”

  He grinned in response, which rankled even more. Flustered, I pushed my way out of his arms. I straightened my hair, my pack, and my thoughts as Anna continued to look up at him curiously.

  “Thanks for showing up and looking, uh, intimidating, I guess,” Anna said.

  “What are you doing here?” I heard myself asking.

  “Don’t you think introductions are in order?” he asked, pointedly ignoring my question.

  “I’m Anna Richards,” she offered, then gazed at me expectantly.

  “Jordan Shaw,” I muttered mechanically.

  “Jordan, like the country?” His lips were twisted into a half-smile that most girls would probably find charming. In that moment, I found it extremely irritating.

  “No, not like the country,” I glowered then added reluctantly, “My dad won’t admit it, but I think it is after the basketball player.”

  “What’s your name?” Anna asked.

  “I’m Chase.”

  “Like the verb?” The words shot out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  “Yes, just like the verb. That was actually my nickname growing up, Little Verb,” he said, a smile spreading across his face.

  The grin was now too close to a smirk in my opinion.

  “Have you been inside yet?” Anna asked, nodding toward the Colosseum. It was obvious she was trying to get the conversation onto neutral territory.

  Chase didn’t look away from me as he answered.

  “No.”

  “Do you want to check it out with us?” Anna asked, unfazed by his abruptness.

  Apparently, I had now become mute. What was it about this guy that unsettled me so much?

  “Lead the way.” He gestured for us to go ahead.

  The three of us walked in an awkward group to the entrance.

  “Where is your buddy?” Anna asked, breaking the strained silence.

  “My buddy?”

  “The kid from the train.”

  “The kid?” He seemed amused by her word choice. “He is doing his own thing.”

  “You are roaming solo then?”

  “For the moment.”

  Anna paid for our two tickets and Chase paid for himself.

  “Have you taken a self-defense course?” he asked me casually.

  It took a second for me to find my voice.

  “No, why?” I frowned up at him curiously.

  “You used a very effective self-defense move to break away when you were grabbed from behind.”

  I hadn’t given it a second thought before or after it had happened, but then I remembered where I had learned that move.

  “My uncle showed me how to do that years ago.”

  “Really, it looked like you had some training or something,” he prodded, eying me carefully.

  I shrugged indifferently. “I guess you could say he trained me to do that one move. He said it might come in handy someday. It looks like he was right.”

  By this time we had made our way into the main part of the Colosseum. From what I had read, I knew the arena floor was no longer there so we would be looking down on a warren of stone corridors and rooms. Anna, on the other hand, was not prepared.

  “What is up with this crazy maze situation?” she asked.

  “The original arena floor was destroyed a long time ago,” Chase explained. “What you are looking at now is the area underneath, where the animals and people who were waiting to fight were held.”

  “It’s all sinister and dungeon-like,” Anna said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

  “It basically was a dungeon, although it wasn’t called that,” he said.

  As it so often did, the name floated out of the recesses of my brain with no effort on my part. “It was called the Hypogeum; it means ‘underground’ in Greek.”

  Anna nodded absently as she stared in abject fascination at the sight below us. Chase looked at me sideways.

  “It was in the guidebook,” I mumbled, uncomfortable with his inspection.

  After a long second, he looked back at Anna, who had started walking again. She led the way deeper into the building as Chase asked about our trip. Anna responded to everything at first but as the conversation continued, he gradually drew me in. The more I talked, the more my earlier irritation with him subsided.

  The conversation shifted from our trip to other things. Talking with him was different from talking to boys our age. He wasn’t out to party or on some soul-s
earching vision quest. He was clearly educated, well-traveled, and pleasant. Yet, he remained enigmatic. While he kept up a steady stream of questions aimed at us and was a willing participant wherever the conversation went, he deftly avoided mentioning anything specific about himself. Whenever he was asked a personal question, he provided minimal information and managed to get one of us talking again with a few well-chosen words.

  There was something about him. I found myself strangely drawn to him, yet at the same time, I was wary.

  Anna had wandered ahead, leaving us on our own, when Chase started asking questions about my family and where I was from. Despite the casualness of his tone, he listened intently to my responses and asked for detailed clarification on different things. I got the impression he was almost sifting through what I said for answers to questions he wasn’t asking. I was so absorbed in our conversation that I barely noticed we had walked almost every inch of the Colosseum. By this time, the afternoon had faded to early evening.

  “Should we get a taxi?” Anna asked as we headed out to the street.

  “Yes. Would you like to share a ride?” I asked Chase, trying not to sound too hopeful.

  “No, thanks, I have a bike,” he said.

  “Wow, either you have no fear or are completely insane to drive here,” Anna stated.

  “It just takes focus,” he replied.

  I arched an eyebrow at him skeptically.

  “Maybe I have a high fear threshold as well,” he added with a roguish grin that made me a little wobbly.

  Stepping to the curb he flagged down a taxi, opened the door and spoke to the driver in what sounded like flawless Italian. For a second, I was fairly certain I heard him say Hotel Cristina, but I couldn’t be sure with all the traffic noise.

  “What is the name of your hotel and the street it is on?” Chase asked.

  I must have been wrong. He couldn’t know where we were staying.

  “The Hotel Cristina on the,” Anna trailed off, glancing at me for assistance.

  “Via del Biscione,” I replied automatically.

  Chase flicked another look at me as he spoke to the driver. When he stepped back from the car, Anna hopped into the backseat. I paused with one foot in the taxi.

  “I guess I’ll see you around?” I said.

  “Maybe we’ll run into each other again under less interesting circumstances.” He flashed that confident half-smile as he spoke.

  Not sure how to respond, I entered the cab.

  “Ciao,” he said, shutting the door behind me.

  “Ciao!” Anna called cheerily out the window.

  As the taxi pulled into traffic, I glanced back at his solitary figure in the crowd. A van changed lanes, obscuring my view for a moment. When I could see the spot where he had been standing again, it was empty. He was gone. Suddenly, I realized that the troubled feeling I’d had since Versailles had disappeared as well.

  CHAPTER 3

  “WELL, THAT WAS RANDOM,” Anna said.

  Facing forward, I nodded absently in agreement.

  She continued to chat away as the taxi zipped through the streets of Rome. I listened with half an ear until I heard the buzzing of my cell phone. Clawing through my bag, I dug it out and answered the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Jordan?” The voice belonged to Marcello.

  “Hi Marcello, how are you?”

  I backhanded Anna in the gut as she made obnoxious faces at me.

  “I’m well, thank you. If you are free this evening, Francesco and I would very much like to take you and Anna to dinner.”

  “Dinner tonight?” I repeated for Anna, who vigorously shook her head yes. “Sure, what time?”

  “We will be done with work soon; can we pick you up at your hotel in about an hour?”

  “Sounds good, see you then.”

  “Ciao, bella.”

  “Ciao,” I replied. Hanging up, I found myself wondering what it was about accents that made normal words sound so delightful.

  “It looks like we have a date!” Anna was grinning from ear to ear.

  As the taxi pulled up to the hotel, she bounced out.

  Streaking for the door she yelled out, “I get the shower first!”

  I trudged upstairs after her. She was in and out of the shower in minutes, then it was my turn. The lukewarm water felt good after the dust and heat of the city.

  By the time I left the tiny bathroom, Anna was already dressed. Limited with the clothing options that fit into a backpack, I pulled out the one skirt I had with me, which was black, a black tank top, and my flip flops. Anna was wearing a flowered skirt and a pink tank top as she sprawled on the bed poring over the guidebook. Five minutes before they were supposed to pick us up, we headed downstairs to wait.

  In the lobby, we talked about the next stop on our trip. We had hit the major sites that both of us wanted to see in Rome, and while it was an amazing city, it was also crowded and expensive. We agreed that we were both ready to move on to the Cinque Terre.

  The soft purr of a powerful engine stopping outside the hotel put us on alert. Seconds later, Marcello and Francesco walked in. Francesco sported tan slacks and a white linen shirt. His black hair was smoothed back and he had a huge smile on his face. Marcello, too, was in all black and looked very dashing. He noticed we were both in all black at the same time I did, and we laughed. He kissed me on both cheeks in greeting.

  “You look very beautiful tonight, bella,” he said with a genuine smile that I returned.

  The Italians led us out to Marcello’s car where they held the doors open for us.

  “You will love the place we’re taking you tonight; it has the best food in all of Roma. Not to mention one of the best views,” Marcello declared as he pulled away from the hotel.

  As he drove, I would catch him flicking me little looks and smiles. I found this both flattering and a little unsettling. I liked the attention, but I really wasn’t looking for anything serious. I found him attractive and easy to be with, but I wasn’t sure how far I wanted this to go.

  After a short drive through the narrow cobblestone streets, Marcello parked expertly before helping me out of the car. He kept his hand on my lower back as we walked to the restaurant. Despite my goal of keeping things casual, the place where his hand touched felt warm and tingly.

  The restaurant was at a street corner overlooking the Tiber. The building was richly decorated, surrounded by a variety of lush plants, and had an expansive terrazza for outdoor dining. Twinkling white lights everywhere created a soft glow that gave the place a sophisticated, romantic feel.

  The restaurant was very busy, so I figured we would have to wait for a table. Once the hostess spotted Marcello, however, we were immediately ushered past the line of people waiting to be seated.

  Within moments, we were ensconced in a secluded corner table on the terrazza with an unabridged view of the river and the street below. There was a brief exchange between the server and Marcello in Italian. Before I was fully settled, the server had left and then reappeared with a carafe of a local Chianti and deliciously fresh bread. I raised my eyebrows at Marcello to show that I was impressed. I was also very curious about the preferential service we were receiving.

  “You think it is strange that they act like Marcello is a celebrity?” Francesco asked me with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

  “Do you know the owner or something?” I speculated.

  “We are getting the VIP treatment here. Maybe your family owns it?” Anna guessed.

  “He closed a big case that involved this restaurant a while back, so they remain grateful. I’ll let him tell you the details,” Francesco said.

  Marcello looked slightly embarrassed as all eyes turned to him.

  “When I first moved to the city, I worked here. I’ve known the family who owns it for a long time. When they were having trouble they came to me for help. I did what I could,” he said humbly.

  “What kind of trouble were they having?” Anna leaned i
n eagerly.

  Marcello gave a nonchalant shrug, which was not good enough for Francesco.

  “There was a Mafioso, or what you would call a “godfather,” who wanted this restaurant. The family would not sell, so he threatened them. No one else would help them. Marcello was fairly new in the Guardia and he worked on the case on his own time. Eventually, he uncovered enough information to make a solid case against the mob boss and arrested him.”

  Both Anna and I were looking at Marcello in awe as Francesco continued.

  “Before the trial, they tried to buy Marcello off and when that didn’t work they tried to intimidate him. They even tried to kill him and the restaurant owner. Marcello did not back down and now the boss is serving a life sentence in jail. Marcello received a promotion so now he gets to work with the big boys like me,” Francesco said, indicating himself with a flourish.

  Marcello continued to look uncomfortable.

  “Is that all true?” I was impressed.

  “Francesco exaggerates,” Marcello said, earning a reproachful look from Francesco.

  “That is pretty crazy. Weren’t you totally freaking out when they were coming after you?” Anna asked, her voice full of admiration.

  “In our line of work it is part of the job,” he said modestly.

  “I am not sure how I would handle that,” Anna said as she started to peruse the menu. “What should we order?”

  “Why don’t we order for the table?” Marcello suggested.

  We readily agreed. While they ordered several antipasti to begin the meal, I admired the view of the river. As my gaze wandered down the street, a man who had been leaning against the building opposite the restaurant started to walk away quickly. I was fairly certain he had been staring directly at us just a moment before. I found it strange that he would be watching us and even more peculiar that he was leaving so abruptly. If I could get a clear look at him before he turned the corner I would know if I had seen him before. However, the man kept his face turned slightly away from me until he vanished from sight. From what I had seen, he may have been the stocky guy who was with Spiky at St. Peter’s square.

  This thought put me on edge. Before I could dwell on it, Anna’s laughter caught my attention. I turned back to the table. It couldn’t have been him, I assured myself. My mind is playing tricks on me. I focused on the conversation, forcing the uneasy feeling to the back of my mind where it rumbled just loud enough to let me know it was there.