Twisted Together

Franco half-smiled. “I only forced you because I understood the look in his eyes. He’d never had that look before.”

Going to him, I slung his arm over my shoulders, taking some of his weight. “What look?” We hobbled to the exit.

It was good to keep my mind on other things. It distracted me from what Q might be suffering—kept me levelheaded.

Franco sighed. “Lust…attraction…maybe even love. Who knows.” Giving me a quick smile, he said, “Either way. I knew he wanted you, and I wanted to see him happy.”

Franco opened the doorknob; we made our way slowly into the corridor.

This is going to take forever. He’s too injured.

I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for having Franco’s help, but we needed to go. We needed to hunt. How could we do that if Franco could barely walk and needed urgent surgery?

Franco hissed as I propelled him faster. “There’s a plan in motion. It’s not just us. So you don’t have to panic.”

My heart raced. Q—hold on. “What plan?”

“We had a discussion after Q rescued you. We knew the likelihood of them coming for him was high, so we had a system put in place. It’s already started.” Franco looked at his watch. “I’d say about twenty-five minutes ago—the moment they barged into my room and beat the f**k out of me.”

My body grew hot then cold, roasting then frigid. I wanted to split myself into an army of people and scour Italy for Q. I wanted to know what plan was in effect.

He can’t die. I won’t let him.

The elevator up ahead pinged, delivering its cargo like a tsunami of weapons and badges. Franco and I slammed to a stop.

“What the—” he muttered as a hoard of policemen all in smart black uniforms and silver brocade rushed toward us.

We stood like an island as a sea of police officers darted past, disappearing into the room we’d just vacated. I blinked. Was this part of the plan? Enlisting the local force to help us track Q?

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. If they were here to help then great…but if they weren’t…

Franco tensed, pushing me away to stand on his own two feet. His jaw ticked as he shoved his bloody, thumb-missing hand into his pocket.

A detective with slicked black hair and greying temples climbed off the lift, coming toward us. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay, sir? Ma’am?”

My heart latched itself to my voice box; I squeaked some stupid reply. My instincts were prickling, warning. I didn’t like him. I didn’t like this. Which was ridiculous as they were the law. We’d done nothing wrong—we were the victims. So why did I suddenly feel like a criminal?

The detective’s gaze fell on Franco, taking in his bloody clothing and protective stance. “What happened here tonight?”

Franco glowered. “Nothing. What are you doing here?”

The officer scowled. “We don’t have to explain our presence to you. Especially when it looks as if we’ve come to a scene of a serious crime.” His eyes pierced mine, looking me up and down.

I was aware of how I must look: white face, smudged mascara, and a jitter that looked as if I was high and needing my next fix. How could I explain the adrenaline in my system was from watching my lover be shot and marched away?

“Ma’am. Did this man hurt you?” His hand fell to his holstered weapon.

“What? No!” I leapt in front of Franco. “Not at all. Look we—”

“Tess—shut up.” Franco yanked me back by my jeans loop. Looking at the officer, he snapped, “You’re interfering. This is a private undercover operation. Now, let us pass.”

The officer’s eyebrow rose; his chest puffed out, swelling with testosterone. “You’re not going anywhere until I determine what occurred here tonight.” Taking out a notepad from his breast pocket, he scanned his notes. “Do you know anything about an indecent exposure incident that happened about thirty minutes ago? A passer-by said they saw a disturbance in one of the suites on this floor.” His eyes zeroed in on Franco. “According to witnesses, a woman whose face was covered was forced against the glass while an unseen male had intercourse with her. That wouldn’t be you, would it?”

Franco threw me an incredulous look, his eyes yelling a message: Q did what?

I would’ve blushed if I had any blood left in my head—it’d all congealed in my feet leaving me ice cold. The one time I let go and it landed me in police custody.

Shit, what could I do? Lie.

My instincts said to run. I needed to run before they—

“You’re under arrest,” the officer announced. “I don’t care if you had nothing to do with that charge. You’re covered in blood and running from the location of a complaint. You’re both coming with us until we can find the truth of this matter.”

Oh no. No!

“Sir, it isn’t what you think. Please—” I begged.

“Tess, shut—” Franco began, only to groan in agony as the officer grabbed his elbow, tearing his hand from his pocket to secure metal handcuffs.

“Che cazzo?!” The officer’s mouth fell open, staring at Franco’s butchered hand. The tie wrapped around the stump dripped crimson all over the pristine snowy carpet. The detective glared at us, confusion and a slight thread of fear entering his black gaze. “Someone better start talking about what happened here tonight.”

I wanted to wake up from this nightmare. This was beyond the realms of comprehension. Q had been stolen by men who would kill him—and we were being detained by a foreign police force who would delay us until it was too late.

A bubble of insane tearful laughter threatened to break.

Franco snapped, “Get me to the hospital. I’m not in a position to answer questions, as you can clearly see.”

Policemen returned from scouting our suite. “All clear, boss. No one’s there. However, we found blood and believe there were a few men who have left the premises.”

My heart lurched. Yes, they’d left. With Q. Hell, this was awful. My mind raced with thoughts of stealing a gun. I could hold one of them hostage to get out of the building.

But Franco couldn’t run. Shit.

“Arrest the woman. Take her for questioning. Take the man to the hospital.”

Franco and I yelled at the same time: “No! I have to go with him.” “She has to come with me.”

The detective pursed his lips, deliberating. Finally, he muttered, “Fine. Take them both to the hospital. I expect to be able to interview them in a few hours.”