The knock on the door was loud and Richard flattened against the adjacent wall, waiting. He heard the knob rattle then another loud knock and a murmur of voices. A moment later the lock clicked and the door opened.

The first man through had his gun out and was holding it a little sideways; not too professional, Richard thought. When the second man entered, he turned to close the door and saw Richard against the wall.

"Al!" He raised his weapon and Richard fired, blowing a hole in the side of his face. Daniel crashed backwards over a small bookstand and rolled over onto his side. Alphonso turned in surprise and fired blindly, his shot taking a chunk out of the cornice over the drapes.

Richard had dropped to one knee and his first shot smashed Alphonso's knee. He groaned and collapsed to the floor. Richard quickly stepped up and kicked his weapon away then placed the barrel of his gun against the other knee.

"Talk, and don't waste my time."

Richard learned whom they worked for and what they had been up to. He also found out that Monique was a prisoner at Jean's villa as well as Angelo Spataro. He prodded the man for the exact locations of the villa, and where the prisoners were being held. Alphonso balked until Richard poked his gun against the shattered knee.

"You will pay for this. Jean will hunt you down like a dog."

"Too bad you won't be taking part." Richard stood and fired his second shot on a deadly path through Alphonso's chest, blowing him flat onto his back.

In the following silence, Richard could hear René calling to see if he was alright.

"Stay put for a few minutes," he said, putting his gun away and dragging the two bodies from the living room, through the kitchen and out to the back yard. He found an old tarp that must have been a boat cover at one time, and covered the two men then returned inside and gave the signal knock on the door.

René came out, looking at him and then down the hall to the living room. "What happened? I heard the shots." She walked past him and stopped to look at some stains on the floor. "Is that-?"

"I'll clean it all up, don't worry about it."

"Where- what happened to-?"

"They're looked after for the moment."

"Did you . . .?"

"René, I'm really sorry you got mixed up in this but give me a day or two and we can be gone where we don't have to worry about this kind of thing again.'

Her expression spoke volumes about that remark and Richard experienced a real feeling of fear and uncertainty. This young woman had unexpectedly stormed his heart and the thought of losing her frightened him.

"Where are they?"

"Out back under that old tarp; I'll move them after dark."

"How?" She stared at him with flat eyes.

"I was hoping to use your boat."

"You mean, dump them in the gulf."

"Something like that."

"After the second shot, I heard voices." She said accusingly.

"I was questioning one of them."

"Then another shot." Her jaw was tight and the words bitten off.

"We finished talking."

René turned away and went to the kitchen, side stepping a streak of red on the tile floor.

"It was inevitable, René. These men would have done the same to you as well."

"What did you talk to him for?"

"I wanted to know anything he knew about Monique and I found out. Jean is holding her at his villa, along with another man who was part of the Agency business."

"Now what?" Her face was blank and none of the affection from earlier was present.

"Like I said, I'll clean up here and then I'm going to see about getting Monique away from Jean."

She threw up her hands and bent over the sink.

"It's not like that, regardless of what she did or didn't do, she was a friend, more than a friend- and I don't want her to suffer at his hands."

"Who are you, James Bond! You're going to take on one of the largest crime lords in Italy single-handed and rescue the fair maiden?" Her shoulders began to tremble and Richard thought she was beginning to cry but there were no tears.

"René, I promise you I will be okay; this is what I do - did. It will be the last time; after this we'll disappear."

"I have to think about that, Richard. I have to think hard, there are other people I owe loyalty to."

He felt a lump growing in his chest and he started toward her then stopped. Her statement sounded like more than normal responsibility. Why did he keep having that doubt? He stared at her back and had a quick flash of the smooth skin, warm against him in her bed.

This was nuts, he scolded himself. Barging into this young woman's life and involving her in his dangerous game was the height of selfishness. He rubbed a hand through his hair.

"René, please think it through carefully and take whatever time you need. I'll go with whatever you decide, I promise."

She turned around, placing her hand over her mouth.

"I have to, Richard. I'm just very unsure at the moment. You have turned all my thinking on its head." It wasn't an accusation and she extended a hand to soften any false interpretation.

"I'm sorry—"

"No. Don't be sorry. Just let me think things through."

"I'm still going after Monique," he said cautiously. "May I use your boat?"

"I know. Take the boat, go and do what you do- but come back, okay?"

"I will. Look after that bank draft."

She gave him a curious smile. He pulled her close, with relief, and they kissed long and hard then he nodded shyly and left.

************

Monique was restricted to the bedroom and always under the watch of Marie or another of Jean's thugs. She was given a housecoat and a pair of heeled slippers and nothing else. She had no idea where her things went, her purse with all her private information, her shoes and her clothes were all gone.

The man sitting by the door kept leering at her and at first, she tugged the gown tight about her but as she thought about it, he might be the key to her getting out and after a few considered moments, she casually let it hang loosely and flare open when she walked.

His eyes locked on her bare skin and he wet his lips as he shifted on the chair. Monique smiled inwardly; men were all the same. She stopped, facing him and asked him the time. It took a second or two for him to rip his eyes away and consult his watch.

"Two-fifteen."

"Thanks. Is there anything to drink in this place?" She picked up an empty glass decanter and studied the pattern etched in the glass.

"You get nothing unless Jean or Marie say."

"Where are they then?"

His face turned into a knowing smirk and he made an obscene gesture with his hands, pointing a thumb toward the next room.

"Jesus, is that all he does? So how long will that take?" She tried to sound bored and slightly annoyed.

"Jean is a stallion; it could go on for hours yet."

"So you just have to sit there and wait? What if you need to go?"

He bobbed his head toward the en suite.

"Here! Then what am I supposed to do, I wouldn't go in there after you!"

The man laughed and tossed the paper he had been reading aside, his eyes probing the thin material of her gown.

"Then you will just have to hold it- or not." He laughed again and stood. "As a matter of fact I think I'll use it now." He swaggered past her, his attention still on the sheer gown.

Monique turned toward him as he passed and let it swing open again. He did a stutter step and let out a small gasp. While his attention was on her body, she swung the decanter and heard it crack against the side of his skull.

His eyes widened and rolled up into his head and he dropped like a dead fish, a few feeble flaps of his hands then nothing.

Quickly, she went through his pockets and found a wallet and some money then cheered silently at a set of car keys and a cell phone. Her next problem was clothing. She undid the buttons on his shirt and then rolled him over, stripping it off.

His hairy chest covered most of an old rose tattoo and she wondered why a hulk like that would have a delicate little rose on his chest.

The shirt was huge on her but the flimsy sash from the robe served to tie it around her waist. With the robe underneath the shirt she wouldn't be warm but it left her comfortably covered, the only complaint now was the slippers but there was little to do about that.

She checked the man again and felt a weak pulse then went to the door and slowly opened it, peering up and down the corridor. The staircase was a few yards away and she moved slowly toward it, listening for any sign of danger.

At the bottom of the stairs, in the foyer, she found a pair of what must have been Marie's shoes, and exchanged the slippers for the more suitable footwear. Somewhere upstairs came the sound of a voice, and then another.

Her watcher must have recovered or somebody went looking for him. She hurried to the door and stepped out onto the broad steps leading down to the drive. Leaning on one of the black SUVs was her other original captor and he was holding his phone, watching her with amused interest.

"Sebastian's head is harder than you thought."

Monique wavered, indecisive, then the door opened behind her and Sebastian came out, holding a towel to his head.

"You know you are going to pay for this, don't you?" He nodded to his cohort and reached for her arm.

The sudden pain in his chest made him grunt and he stopped, looking at his goose bump covered, bare chest where a large red blotch was forming right under his rose tattoo. He looked up in surprise and fell face first down the entry steps. The man at the SUV dropped to the ground, drawing his gun and calling loudly for help.

Monique backed up behind one of the large columns framing the entryway; she strained to see where the shot had come from and worried about who it might be. The man behind the SUV was fumbling with his cell phone when the next shot clipped the side of his head and he sprawled noisily on the drive.

Monique looked at the keys in her hand and without hesitation made a dash for the vehicle. Another shot caromed off the side near the driver's door as she flung it open and dove inside. She fumbled the key into the ignition and fired up the engine. The windshield shattered in a spray of diamond-sized bits of glass and Monique screamed in spite of herself.

She wriggled into a half sitting position and yanked the gearshift into drive, flooring the gas pedal. The villa door flew open and Jean and two more of his men leaped down the steps, firing wildly at the speeding SUV. Jean was screaming orders and shooting ineffectively into the air.