Page 95

He ruffled my hair. “I didn’t run that fast. I promise.”

I knew a lie when I heard one. “What if those guys came back?”

His smile faded. “They aren’t coming back. They got what they came for.” He took my hand. “Come on. Nonna has breakfast ready. I already briefed her on the rat. Let’s go eat something and then go through the data of our overnight searches.”

It was a good plan, so I pushed aside the rat and cat issue. We were leaving shortly, so I didn’t see the point of belaboring it. We ate a light breakfast of coffee, hot milk and biscuits and chatted with Nonna. Slash and I were doing the dishes when there was a knock on the front door.

Slash went to get it. I heard him speaking Italian for a minute and then the door closed and he returned to the kitchen. He had a thoughtful look on his face.

“Who was it?” I asked.

“A messenger. We’ve been summoned to the Vatican for a private audience this afternoon with the pope.”

What the heck? Why in the world would the pope summon us to the Vatican? “This afternoon? How did he know we were here?”

“I’m not sure, but I have my suspicions.” He quickly translated for Nonna, who gasped and pressed a hand to her breast.

“Is it normal to be summoned for a private audience with the pope?”

“No, it’s not. Especially on such short notice. We were offered a driver, but I told him we’d manage on our own. I was told the reason he wants to see us is that he wants to personally thank us for saving the people in Salerno.”

“Oh.” I thought that over. “Can’t he just send a thank-you note?”

“Cara.” He gave me a warning look.

“Fine.” I held up a hand. “I didn’t intend to be rude. I know it’s an honor to be invited. But first the Mayor of Salerno and now the pope. All this meeting and greeting famous people is stressing me out. Besides, I didn’t pack the right clothes to meet the pope.”

“We’ll do a quick shopping trip here in Sperlonga and buy you a knee-length, black dress. I have a jacket and tie I can pull out, and we’re good to go.”

I glanced uneasily over my shoulder. “Slash, I’m really nervous about this.”

“Why? You met him before, last time we were here.”

“Yes, but I was coached by the monsignor in charge of protocol before we met him. He gave me detailed instructions on social expectation, requirements for genuflection and a list of topics on what I can and can’t talk about—all of which I immediately forgot because I was so nervous. Then I blabbered like an idiot.”

“You don’t need the monsignor to tell you what to do. You’ve got me this time.”

“Well, even you can’t make me stop acting like a dork.” It was the sad truth.

He rolled his eyes. “You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he won’t remember me.” I sounded overly hopeful even to myself. “He meets thousands of people every year, right?”

“Right. But don’t worry. He’ll remember you.”

I sighed in exasperation. “You do realize that’s not helping, right?”

“It’s the truth. You saved the Vatican millions of euros. Besides, he gave you something the last time you met, didn’t he? He rarely gifts people anything.”

I reached into my purse, unzipping a top pocket, and carefully pulled out a small crucifix on a silver chain. The back of the crucifix was silver, and the front was wooden.

Slash glanced at me in surprise. “You brought it with you?”

“Of course. I always carry it in my purse.”

He held it between his fingers, examining it for a moment. “Put it on. He’ll appreciate the gesture.”

I slipped it over my head and the crucifix fell above the swell of my breasts. “I still don’t know why he gave it to me.”