Jorja covered her face with her hands briefly the second Marco’s back was turned. She was such a dork. As she lowered her hands, her gaze was once again gripped by the man sitting at the far table. He raised his wine glass toward her and smirked. Oh, crap, had he overheard what she’d said to the owner? Or maybe he was the waiter, she hadn’t takenthe time to clarify. She had to find something to do with her hands, or she’d make it so obvious that she was embarrassed. She reached for her phone. At least if she was playing with it, she could pretend she was just another tourist. She pulled up the photos of the website list again and studied it. But seeing the name didn’t give her any more information than it had at home.
“Here we are.” Marco appeared at her elbow with a carafe of water. “It is frizzante.”
She placed the phone on the table and moved the glass closer to him, allowing him to fill it for her. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” Marco placed the carafe on the table. “Elenora will be out with your appetizers in a moment.” He nodded to the table she’d been attempting to avoid looking at. “I will return to my friends.”
She could feel the embarrassment creeping up the back of her neck and knew she had seconds before her cheeks flushed red. Of course, the hottest man she’d seen in years was his friend. “Thank you.” She had no clue if that was the right thing to say or not, but apparently it was as Marco smiled at her and turned away.
Under lowered eyelids she watched him walk toward the man she’d been watching. When Marco sat down, she’d expected him to say something or for Mr. Sexy to laugh. Instead, the next time he turned his gaze on her, the coldness in them sent a shiver right down her spine. She glanced uncomfortably around the restaurant. For the first time a flicker of concern swept through her. Except for one woman behind the counter, she was the only female in the restaurant.
Maybe you weren’t wrong when you asked him about the mafia.
She’d spent more than enough years traveling by herself, eating alone, and all that stuff that she typically wasn’tconcerned. But something and everything felt weird this evening. She wasn’t stupid enough to ignore the internal warning. She made a swift decision, stuffed her phone back in her purse, and got to her feet. “I’m so sorry, I’m not feeling well,” she called softly to the woman behind the counter. “I am going to go back to my hotel to lie down.”
“Of course.” The woman’s voice was filled with concern. “Do you want me to call you a taxi?”
“No, no.” She was leaving because everything about this place felt off. There was no way she was getting into a cab that was organized by anyone here. “The fresh air will do me good.”
“I understand. If you give me a moment, I’ll ask Nonno to pack you up some food to take with you.”
“Thank you, but I’m really not feeling well.” Was it just her, or was this woman trying to keep her here? “Thank you for your hospitality.” There was no need for her to be rude, especially when she was most likely imagining things. She turned to leave, but stopped short when the dog she’d petted earlier and his owner stood in front of the door, blocking her exit. “Move.”
“Nope.” The man shook his head. “Sorry, Ma’am, I can’t do that.”
His accent should have filled her with relief, but instead it ramped up the anxiousness she could feel bubbling inside her. “You are American.”
It’s a good thing it wasn’t a question as he didn’t answer her. Just stared past her shoulder as if looking at something behind her. She took one step to the left and reached for the door, but yanked her hand back when the dog snarled, baring its teeth.
Oh, crap, what have I gotten myself into? Momma is going to lose her mind if I disappear without a trace.
She lowered her purse from her shoulder and bunchedthe strap into her hand. One of the benefits of carrying everything but the kitchen sink around with her was the ability to use it as weapon. Jorja shifted to the left, which put her further from the door and into the path of the man who had been eating with the one blocking the door, but gave her room to swing her purse.
“Why are you looking for me, Jorja Buchanan?” a cold voice from behind her asked. She paused mid-swing, but momentum kept her turning and the purse slammed into the stomach of the man to her left.
“Oomph,” he grunted but didn’t move.
“I asked you a question,” the cold voice said again, and she just knew it was the man who’d captured her gaze earlier, Mr. Sexy Adonis himself. Realization slammed into her. There was only one man this could be. “You are Gunnar McKinley?” She turned slowly to look at him.
He quirked up an eyebrow when she finally looked at his face, and nodded. “I am. You were looking for the people who run The Four X’s. You’ve found them. What do you want with me, Jorja Buchanan, and why do you have my name on a list on your phone?”
“How—?”
“Marco saw it when he filled your water.” Gunnar grabbed a chair, turned it around so the back was facing her, and straddled it. “Explain.”
She knew without a doubt it wasn’t a question, but an order. Jorja glanced nervously at the men who practically surrounded her at this point. She could make it to the door?
Stop it. You were looking for him. Why the hell would you run? You’ve done nothing wrong.
“You won’t make it out the door,” Gunnar told her. “If per chance you did, then Zombie will get you before you make it out of the square.” He nodded to the man she’d hit with her purse. The man looked enough like Gunnar that she wasgoing to assume he was another of the McKinley brothers, but she didn’t dare hazard a guess as to which one he might be. He gripped her by the upper arm and pushed her into a chair in front of Gunnar while Marco rolled down the shutters.
As the room plunged into near darkness, the lights were flipped on, but she didn’t see who’d hit the switch.
“Why do you have my name on a list?” Gunnar asked her again. “I don’t take kindly to my name being on any list. So, start talking, Jorja, before I lose my patience.”
What a jerk.
CHAPTER SIX
