Fire Maidens: Rome Read online

  Lena risked one more look back, then ran for home. A place where she could hide from the moon — and from the horror of what she might become.

  Chapter Two

  Lena put her hand in the fountain at the base of the Spanish Steps, letting cool water wash through her fingers. Fingers, not claws, thank goodness.

  She gave herself a little shake. An entire week had gone by since that awful night in the park, and her body hadn’t undergone any changes now that the full moon had started to wane.

  Quickly, she dried her hands, aimed her camera at the Spanish Steps, and snapped a few shots. Everything was fine. Perfectly fine. She was just another normal human — for the time being, at least. Theoretically, she had three more weeks to try to figure out what was happening and how to stop it. In the meantime, she had bills to pay, which meant she had to work.

  So she adjusted the camera settings and took another few shots. But even that took concentration, because her imagination kept painting him into the scene. The wolfman in the park — the only good part of her nightmare. She couldn’t remember his face clearly, but his voice still echoed in her mind, and an inexplicable yearning to see him again had hounded her throughout the week. It was like one of her teen crushes, only with a hundred times the intensity. From the moment she woke up to the moment she went to bed — and yikes, even then — she thought about him. Who was he, exactly? What was he? And above all, would she ever see him again?

  She caught herself there. Her mother had always warned that the greater the attraction, the greater the disappointment she would eventually endure.

  It’s like that with all men.

  Besides, the man in the park was a complete stranger, and not even human.

  “Dammit. Focus,” Lena muttered to herself.

  She fiddled with her camera then checked her watch. The woman she was scheduled to meet was late, and the brilliant dawn colors that painted the sky behind the Trinità dei Monti church would quickly fade.

  So get real and make the most of another beautiful morning in Rome, she ordered herself.

  It was true. How often did a girl get one of Rome’s landmark sights to herself? Within hours, the Spanish Steps would be packed with tourists and lovers. But now, it was quiet enough to hear the gurgle of the fountain at the foot of the steps. The perfect distraction from all the worries crowding her mind.

  Zooming in with her lens, she frowned at a corner of the steps. Street cleaners had passed through and hosed everything down, but they’d missed a wad of gum stuck next to a pair of initials scratched into a heart. Lena took several shots, composing captions in her mind. Eternal damage in the eternal city? Or maybe, Take only pictures, leave only memories?

  She took a deep breath, reminding herself Rome had survived much worse over the centuries. Still, she’d be posting these images to social media soon. Locals and tourists needed those subtle reminders of how to behave. And, heck. It would help get her mind off the whole park incident.

  “For fuck’s sake,” a snippy voice carried from along a side street. “These cobblestones are going to break my heels.”

  Lena took a deep breath. Apparently, Amber was going to make it to the photo shoot after all.

  “Lena!” Amber gushed when she hurried up, trailing a…ten-foot bridal veil?

  Lena turned her face from side to side as Amber air-kissed her cheeks.

  “Amber. So good to see you again.”

  That wasn’t a fib, because Lena always appreciated repeat customers. On the other hand, her inner gagometer was going off, because, wow. Amber’s lips were twice as big and bubbly as Lena remembered, much like Amber’s breasts. Amber had always had a full figure, but apparently, she’d invested her first show business earnings in her own, er, assets.

  Amber McClosky — aka, Amber van Love — grinned and plumped up her breasts.

  “Oh, you noticed the girls. Everyone does. I had a little makeover done. Aren’t they great?”

  Lena forced a thin smile. She was pretty happy with a modest C cup, thank you very much. But hey, if it made Amber happy…

  She looked into the budding starlet’s eyes, but happiness was hard to find amidst all that ambition. There was fear and loneliness, too, not to mention a glimmer of greed.

  Lena cleared her throat and looked away. Even if eyes were windows to the soul, she had to quit playing amateur psychologist.

  “We’d better get started before we lose the light,” she said, waving at the iconic staircase.

  “Vicente will be here any minute.” Amber tossed her teased platinum hair. “We had a late night, if you know what I mean.”

  Lena smiled like she knew all about wild, crazy sex that lasted half the night. Then she gestured toward Amber’s dress. “Are congratulations in order?”

  Amber’s giggle was loud enough to wake half of Rome. “We’re not engaged — yet. But once these pictures publish, rumors will fly.” She rubbed her hands. “Gary will be so jealous.”

  Lena pursed her lips. When Amber had called to schedule the photo shoot two weeks earlier, the new boyfriend she’d mentioned was Alberto, not Vicente. But the one constant was Gary — the decades-older Hollywood producer who’d dumped Amber not too long ago.

  “Can you believe Gary called me a two-bit starlet?” Amber muttered. “I’ll show him.”

  Lena decided not to answer directly. “Shall we get started? We could do a few solo shots as a warm-up.”

  “Oh, I suppose.” Amber rolled her eyes but immediately puckered up for a Marilyn Monroe, in-your-face kiss.

  Lena snapped away dutifully, reminding herself how much she was getting paid for the gig.

  “Nice. Can you toss that veil over your shoulder?”

  Amber did as she was told, and the pink dawn light playing through the veil made a great effect. Lena made a mental note to try that at the next honeymooner photo shoot she did.

  “How about this?” Amber threw a leg up on the edge of the fountain and let her dress slip back, revealing lacy stockings held by garters that screamed, Tie me up, baby!

  “Nice,” Lena muttered, trying not to gag. Trying not to yawn either, because nightmares — and dirty dreams involving the man in the park — had plagued her all week, stealing sleep.

  She rolled her shoulders, assuring herself she did not have wings, and focused back on her work. But Amber broke away abruptly.

  “Finally. There you are.”

  A woman with a makeup case hurried over and started touching up Amber’s hair.

  “This is Antonia, my makeup girl,” Amber said, introducing them. “Lena is the photographer I was talking about. The pictures she took back in New York catapulted me to fame.”

  Lena wasn’t sure landing a cable TV reality show counted as catapulting to fame, but hey. She appreciated the acknowledgment.

  “When I found out Lena was in Rome, I went straight to her. Isn’t that right?”

  Lena nodded. “Sure did.”

  Antonia smiled and spoke in accented English. “I love your highlights. Where did you get them done?”

  Lena touched her shoulder-length hair. Most of it was chocolate brown, but the tips were gold.

  “I didn’t. It’s just the way my hair is.”

  “Lucky you,” Amber cut in. “My hair takes so much work to look this good.” She tossed her bleached mane then giggled and plumped her breasts. “Luckily, the girls are low maintenance.” Then she snapped her head to the left and waved. “Oh, here he comes. Vicente! Yoo-hoo!”

  “Ciao, bella,” the man striding up the street called.

  Actually, there were three men. Vicente and two others, all young and buff enough to look like they’d come strutting straight out of a body-building magazine. Vicente made a beeline for Amber, while the other two fanned out, studying the surroundings like a couple of bodyguards.

  Lena did a double take. They were bodyguards, judging by their prodding Secret Service stares.

  Lena averted her eyes while Amber and Vicente smooched. Slu
rped, practically. And, ew. Did they have to grind their hips quite that hard?

  Amber came up for air, flushed — and, yes — happy. “He can’t keep his hands off me.”

  Lena managed a thin smile. Obviously not.

  “Lena, meet Vicente.” Amber patted her man’s mile-wide chest, making his thick gold crucifix jingle.

  “Nice to meet you,” Lena said, taking his hand.

  The instant they touched, she wanted to recoil. Vicente wore a heavy cologne, but somehow, she smelled something rotten. And when she met his eyes—

  She forced herself not to step back, but her heart hammered with the instinct to flee. On the surface, Vicente was just another handsome Italian — the type pumped with testosterone, natural or otherwise. But his eyes…

  She gulped. Those dark, haughty eyes held nothing but cold, calculating greed. The eyes of a criminal who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

  Luckily, he didn’t have the slightest interest in her — thank God for that C cup and her plain Jane jeans. He dropped her hand a moment later and grunted a cursory, “Piacere.” Pleasure to meet you.

  Lena turned, wishing she could unsee what she’d spotted in Vicente’s eyes. Something cruel. Evil. Animal, almost, and not in a good way.

  “Now, let’s get started.” Amber pulled her lover to the stairs.

  Lena gulped and hid behind her lens. Vicente set off every alarm in her mind. Was he a mafioso? A budding Mussolini? A serial rapist?

  Amber, she wanted to whisper. What are you doing with this guy?

  But she couldn’t, and she didn’t. She just took pictures as her heart raced. The sooner she finished the gig, the sooner she could get away from Vicente and his thugs.

  Mostly, she worked with honeymooners who needed gentle instruction. Put your hand there, tilt your head, snuggle closer — that kind of thing. But Amber had an instinct for sizzling poses. First, she turned Vicente’s back to the camera and looked over his shoulder, digging her nails into his back in a porn-worthy pose. Then she held his hands and leaned back until her torso was nearly upside down to the camera.

  “Whoa,” Lena murmured. Did Amber know how much of the girls showed at that angle?

  Of course I do, Amber’s sparkling eyes said. Make sure you get them.

  A few early risers appeared, watching with interest, but the bodyguards kept them at a distance. Amber posed Vicente for one of those bent-over-backward, Gone with the Wind kisses some honeymooners used. The last couple Lena had photographed had come out of that pose giggling and goo-goo eyed, absolutely, positively in love. But Amber came up with dollar signs in her eyes, and Vicente’s expression reeked of pure possession, and not the cute kind. More like, I own you, and you will give me anything I command.

  Lena gulped away a hint of bile. That was the problem with having weird, X-ray vision. Sometimes, she swore she could look straight into people’s souls. But no one had ever disturbed her the way Vicente did.

  Out of the blue, the bodyguards bristled, then relaxed as another man approached. They exchanged casual nods and went back to looking dangerous.

  The surface, the new guy resembled the others, yet he was somehow different. His short black hair was neatly trimmed, his suit perfectly tailored, his movements loose and prowly.

  Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught. Did she know him?

  “What next?” Amber called.

  Lena whipped back around to face her client, though it was hard to focus. “What about over there?”

  While Amber rearranged Vicente, Lena whispered to the makeup girl. “Who’s that?”

  Antonia turned and sighed. “Sergio. Bello, no?” She sighed a little, then waved around, switching to Italian. “They all are. Like Tolino, the one over there.” She pointed to one of the bodyguards. Then her gaze swung to Vicente, and her voice dropped. “But Vicente is Rome’s most eligible bachelor, with a fortune of over two hundred million euros. How much is that in dollars?”

  Lena shrugged. A lot, not that she cared.

  She peeked at the newcomer instead. Well, she meant to peek, but the moment their eyes met, time stopped, and she stared.

  Who are you? his troubled eyes called. Why do I feel like I know you?

  She wondered the same thing. But then it hit her, and she nearly yelped.

  You.

  You, his startled expression said.

  Lena’s heart pounded. It was the wolfman from the park. She was sure of it. Did he work for Vicente?

  Somehow, she doubted it. His eyes were deep. Soulful. Honest. But they were guarded too, in a way that made her want to dig deeper.

  Don’t, everything about him yelled. Don’t you dare.

  Some people’s eyes did that. People who’d endured terrible things and wanted to forget. People who’d done terrible things, too. People with secrets they guarded with their lives.

  So she didn’t search any deeper. Still, some things showed through his mental armor. Like longing. Love. Honor.

  What he saw in her, she couldn’t tell. But, damn. He stood just as still and breathless as she.

  Sergio, a lovestruck voice in the back of her mind breathed. His name is Sergio.

  A shy smile dawned over her face, and her cheeks heated.

  A scuffing sound came from the stairs as Amber instructed Vicente on rearranging her veil, making Lena and Sergio look over. Then Sergio’s gaze bounced back to Lena and clouded.

  Lady, his eyes begged, what are you doing around that guy? Don’t you know how dangerous he is?

  Lena nearly blurted, Aren’t you dangerous too? After all, she’d seen him turn from an animal into a man. That spelled danger in her book.

  Sergio glanced around, checking on the others. Then he gave her a pointed look and schooled his features into a perfectly blank stare.

  Lena frowned. What was going on?

  Trust me, he said in one last, insistent look.

  Trust him? She didn’t even know him. And yikes — he knew her secret.

  Then again, she knew his.

  “How about this?” Amber called.

  Lena jerked her camera up, blowing the sweat off her forehead. “That’s great. Hold that look.”

  Click-clickety-click, her camera whirred as she tried to get herself together.

  Amber’s hand flew to her ample chest. “Fuck.”

  The word echoed through the morning silence, making heads turn, but Amber didn’t notice.

  “I forgot my necklace. Dammit. Accessories. I need accessories! Lena?” She snapped her fingers. “Didn’t you have that goody box with you last time?”

  Lena felt a million miles away, her mind still busy with Sergio.

  “Right — the goody box. Just a second.”

  The moment Amber stepped away from Vicente, he pulled out a phone and started barking into it in Italian. Lena fumbled with her bag and held out the goodies, one by one.

  “Okay, I have this…this…”

  One after another, she held up the props that sometimes helped spice up a photo. A flowery scarf… A padded box holding a miniature bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses… A tube of bubble maker…

  “No. God, no. No.” Amber rejected each, but suddenly, she cooed. “Wait. That. I want that.”

  Lena nearly missed it, because her eyes had slid over to Sergio again. Then she saw what Amber meant and fisted the necklace she hadn’t meant to show — a diamond she’d come across the previous day at a flea market. Well, it looked like a diamond, but for €5.50, it had to be fake. It was pretty, though.

  Originally, she’d intended to use it as a prop, but that felt wrong. Really wrong, as if it were an heirloom no one but her had the right to touch.

  But Amber was already plucking the diamond out of Lena’s hands and maneuvering it around her own neck.

  “Here. Help.”

  Lena bit her lip. She couldn’t ask for the faux gem back without making a scene, so what choice did she have? Like so much else in life, she just had to clench h
er teeth and put up with it. So, she took the ends of the necklace and moved them clear of Amber’s bleached hair.

  “Wow, look at it shine,” the makeup girl breathed.

  Lena’s lips curled slightly. She’d said the same thing when she’d first found the diamond. And now, with the morning sun shining through it…

  “Gorgeous,” she murmured.

  Amber’s eyes glittered, and even the men turned. The bodyguards exchanged uneasy looks, and Vicente did a double take. So did Sergio, whose expression turned to one of awe.

  Lena wanted to scoff and say, It’s just fake jewelry, guys. But it didn’t look fake. On the contrary, it was brilliant.

  Vicente’s eyes narrowed, and a strange sense of panic flooded Lena. Quickly, she held up another piece.

  “I think this one’s better.”

  But Amber brushed her away. “This is perfect. Don’t you like it, Vicente?”

  Lena held her breath. Vicente looked interested. Far too interested. But the minute Amber settled the gem between her meaty breasts, it dulled. Vicente studied it a moment longer, then scowled at Lena.

  “Are we nearly done?”

  “Last few shots,” Amber assured him. “Now, you hold up my hands…”

  Lena tried lining up the shot, but her hands were shaky. Her mind kept jumping between Sergio and the gem.

  Who was he? And that gem — why did it seem so critical?

  Get it back! Keep it safe! her mind screamed.

  “Okay, last set. Tilt your heads that way,” she forced herself to say.

  Amber pressed her cheek against Vicente’s, and Lena felt sick. Everything about Amber’s boyfriend reeked of cruelty, just as everything about Sergio screamed honor. Why?

  A few more tourists appeared — the first of the day’s crowds — and Vicente’s bodyguards bunched closer.

  “And that’s a wrap,” Lena announced, trying to sound fresh and breezy. “Great session. Thank you, everyone.”

  Amber had been in the middle of a thousand-watt smile, but at Lena’s words, she cut it off. “Thank God. These shoes are killing my feet. Carry me to the car, baby?”

  But Vicente had already stepped away and pressed his phone to his ear.

  You can do better, Amber, Lena wanted to whisper. But she didn’t have the nerve, especially with Sergio nearby. His eyes roved the buildings around the square, but she could sense he was as laser-focused on her as she was on him.