Page 81 of Fastest Kill

She looked at him in the dim hallway, and he offered his hand. She took it, and that was what worried Dario the most. Not the rifle case she had been carrying since Rhodes. Not the flat voice she had used for Serapis.

Dario had been prepared to give her a fight if she needed one. He had thought, on the plane, that if she came back to Venice throwing elbows, he would give her whatever she needed because that was how she processed things. He was wise enough not to pick a fight and took her upstairs.

The ensuite in his rooms had a deep tub and, more usefully, a shower with decent water pressure and room for two people.

Dario reached in and turned on the hot water while Frederica sat on the edge of the bath, unlacing her boots, her movements on autopilot. He crouched in front of her and helped with the second boot.

When the water was hot, Frederica stood under it, closing her eyes. Dario stood behind her, and after a moment, reached for the shampoo.

She had Tore's blood in her hair. It had dried into the dark strands where she had knelt beside him in the grass, and she either hadn't noticed or hadn't had the capacity to deal with it yet. He worked the shampoo through it carefully, his fingers moving through the matted strands, working out the dried blood without pulling. She stood still and let him do it with her eyes closed and her hands loose at her sides. He rinsed it, then did it again.

Frederica turned while he was rinsing the conditioner out and looked up at him with water running down her face.

"I keep seeing the gate open," she whispered. "She never left the gate open, Dario. Not at night."

"I know."

"She's going to be furious with herself for getting taken."

"She'll also be furious with him for having the audacity to kidnap her." He tucked a wet strand of hair back from her face. "She will try to escape or send us a message. She will know you are coming for her with people who are very, very good at finding and killing things."

Frederica stared up at him for a moment before kissing him. Not with urgency, or any of the heat that usually lived between them. It was slower, softer, her hands coming up to rest against his chest, his arms going around her and holding her in the warm water. It went on for a while without going anywhere else, because it was what they both needed. When she finally pulled back, her eyes were still clear, and her chin was up.

"You washed my hair," she said, with a confused smile.

"You had your father's blood in it."

"Thank you," she replied and kissed the center of his chest.

"Let's go get some sleep. They will wake us if anything comes up," he said, turning off the water. They dried off, and he gave her one of his T-shirts that hung down to her knees.

They lay in the dark with the sound of the waves coming up from below, her back against his chest, his arm over her waist. She fell asleep faster than he expected, which was a good thing.

Dario stayed awake a little longer, listening to her breathe, and to the water moving in the Rio della Fava below. He thought about a woman called Lisette Brun who had walked out of Cologne five hundred years ago, not knowing what she was carrying with her, and how everything that came from her had led here, to this room, and to Frederica asleep against him.

Dario didn't have it in him to hate that fucked up circumstances had brought them together. He was just grateful that she was in his arms. He buried his face into the back of her neck and finally went to sleep.

35

Frederica smelled breakfast before she reached the bottom of the stairs. Garlic and olive oil were already sizzling, something with eggs, the particular yeasty deliciousness that meant bread had been in the oven recently.

She found Dario at the stove with his back to her, working two pans at once. Every surface had something on it and was overkill in the best possible way.

Frederica stood there for a moment just staring. Her mother cooked when she was upset or was trying to work out a problem in her head. It was always comfort food. Pasta from scratch, biscotti, almond bread, and baklava. Despina's hands were never still, and the result was always a table full of food and people who had been fed, whether they wanted to be or not.

Dario turned to reach for something and caught her standing in the doorway.

"Someone has to make sure everyone eats," he said by way of explanation. "And I'm genuinely afraid of what Despina will say if she comes home and finds out I had her family under my roof and didn't feed them properly."

"She would hold it against you until the day you died," Frederica said honestly.

"Exactly! So." He gestured around him. "Frittata in five minutes, bread in three, coffee is made, and bacon is already keeping warm."

Frederica crossed the kitchen and kissed him. She couldn't help it. The press of her mouth against his, her hand briefly at his jaw, warm from the stove, was everything she needed.

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway behind her. Frederica quickly stepped back. Athena stood at the kitchen entrance with her coffee cup.

"Starting breakfast early, Freddy?" Athena asked sweetly.