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“Hey, I’m not going to deny it. The two of you have ruined me for all other food. She’s got serious mojo in the kitchen. Perhaps the most amazing food mojo in the entire universe.”

He smiled, and I noticed how relaxed he’d become since we’d been here. His posture, expression and tone had all eased away from the rigidity that had been present when I’d first seen him in Genoa. The sun was setting, casting a fiery, almost golden glow on the water and cliffs. It was a moment that would burn in my memory for a long time.

“Now that you’re family, she might be willing to share some secret recipes with you,” he said.

“The recipes would be great, but I would imagine a certain culinary talent would be required to recreate the magic. I can barely fix a bowl of Cheerios.”

“Not true. You’ve been doing an excellent job of cooking on your nights, and you are smart and excellent with measurements and following directions—most of the time. You have legitimate potential.”

The thought cheered me. Perhaps there was hope for me yet.

Finally we tore ourselves away from the view and food and headed back inside to our laptops to get to work. It took us under an hour to cull our list and cross-reference it. When we worked together, we were unstoppable.

“Okay, that totals sixty-seven hits within the age and church connection parameters,” I said, tapping my screen. “That’s not too bad.”

“I’m satisfied. Let’s split them up and run a tighter cross-reference. One set specifically with the church at San Mauro Cilento, and another with the Vatican.”

I looked up at him in surprise. “The Vatican? You think someone as young as he was worked at the Vatican?”

“I think it’s a thread I don’t want to leave dangling.”

“Your call.” I tapped out some commands and watched the data scroll by. About an hour later, Slash pushed back from the desk. “Got him.”

I scooted over and peered over his shoulder at his screen. “How did you find him so fast?”

“I did a little dipping in unsecure Vatican files and went through dozens of seminary class lists for the time I estimated he would be there. I focused on a class I knew he would have taken as an acolyte, and boom, there he was. From that point, I was able to track him to the residency at San Mauro.”

“So, what we do know about him now? Is he alive? In Italy?”

“He’s alive. He’s fifty-four years of age and was born right here in Salerno. The time frame for his residency fits exactly with when I was brought to the church.”

“He sounds like our guy. Does he still live in Salerno?”

“No. His current residence is in Gaeta, which is about a two-and-a-half hour drive from here, along the coast. He’s divorced with no kids. Tends bar at one of the local hotels.”

How odd that his life had changed so dramatically. “From acolyte to divorced bartender,” I said. “That’s a jump.”

“Not really. Bartenders and priests are both good listeners.”

“True, that.” I closed my laptop and stood, as it looked like the search was over, at least for the time being. “Now what, Slash? Do we call him? Go see him?” I watched him carefully to see how he would react to this. I wasn’t sure how he would handle coming face-to-face with a guy that might turn out to be the father who had abandoned him.

But he seemed steady when he snapped his laptop shut and sat on the edge of the bed. “I think we go see him in person, without a call first. I don’t want to risk him turning us down for a discussion.”

“That’s probably a wise choice. When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow, probably around noon. He works at night, which means he’ll likely be sleeping in the morning. We can wander and play tourist for a few hours before heading out to see him. After that, we’ll swing by Nonna’s house since Sperlonga is only twenty minutes away from Gaeta.”

“Hooray!”

Slash glanced at me with amusement. “You’re only thinking of food again.”

“Not only, but yes.” I grinned at him. “However, right now, I’m also thinking I have to work off this dinner. Do you think you can help me with that?” I put my hands on his shoulders and abruptly pushed him backward onto the bed.

His expression flared with surprise, but within a second, his fingers had wrapped around both my wrists. He flipped and pinned me beneath him, my arms trapped above my head.

He looked down at me, his eyes darkening. “I’m sure a workout can be arranged.”

“Oh, thank goodness, Mr. Allegretti,” I said in a teasing voice. “I don’t even mind going topless for this one.”