Men of Intrgue A Trilogy Read Online Free PDF Page A

stepmother keeps an entire pharmacy in the bathroom. I just went through the bottles and picked out something from the assortment.”
    “The right stuff, apparently. That was clever.”
    “Not really. Adrienne has enough drugs in there to outfit the Peace Corps. It was only a matter of looking. She’s probably got the cure for the common cold buried in that closet.”
    “Well, you don’t mind if I think you’re clever, do you?” he asked, teasing her.
    Helen permitted herself a small smile. He talked just like an American, yet she had seen the foreign labels in his clothes, and sometimes she could hear a faint accent. And he had consumed enough Angel Bites to develop a fondness for them. What was going on here? Why was he in Florida, and why had he been shot? The pieces of the puzzle didn’t fit together, and it was driving her crazy, but she stuck to her resolution not to interrogate him. She wanted to keep the conversation light until he was feeling stronger.
    “This house belongs to your stepmother?” he asked abruptly.
    “My father, but he never comes here anymore. Adrienne and her children use it mostly; I came during the off season because I wanted privacy and quiet.”
    “Which lasted until I arrived,” he concluded.
    “It’s still quiet,” Helen said, and he grinned. The effect on Helen was considerable; she looked away so he wouldn’t see the response in her eyes.
    “You’re much more alert,” she observed neutrally, fussing with his pillows. “You fell asleep in the middle of our last conversation.”
    He sobered instantly. “No more painkillers. They’re knocking me out, and I have to get moving.” He tried to sit up, but fell back, his face pale. A fresh stain began to seep onto the gauze covering his wound.
    “What are you doing?” Helen cried, grabbing his hands to hold him down. “You’re in no condition to get out of bed, do you want to open up that arm again?”
    He subsided reluctantly. “I’ve been here too long already; there are people who need me, people waiting for me.”
    “Well, they’ll just have to wait. If you go anywhere now, you’ll be scraped off the sidewalk in ten minutes and wind up in a hospital, a hospital full of doctors. And do you know what doctors have to do when they treat a gunshot wound? Call the police. How would you like that?”
    The question was rhetorical. His eyes slid away from hers, and she picked up his dishes and took them to the kitchen. She made a production out of rinsing them off to give herself time to consider what he had said. Of course he would want to leave. Whatever had brought him to her door was still waiting to be accomplished. If he had succeeded in doing it, he would not have been shot. But the thought of his departure was painful in a fundamental way she didn’t wish to examine too closely. During the past few days Matteo had become the central feature of her existence; his total dependence on her had forged a bond between them that she wished, she now realized, could continue. But he intended to return to his original objective without a thought for her except the gratitude he had already expressed.
    Helen dried a dish thoughtfully and replaced it in the cabinet above the sink. Had she expected something more?
    When she returned to Matteo’s room he was staring out the window at the ocean. “This is a beautiful spot,” he said to her as she entered.
    “Yes, my father had this house built for my mother as a wedding present because she loved this part of St. Augustine so much. It was originally sort of a log cabin, very rustic, but it’s been redone a couple of times since then.”
    “Your parents are divorced now?”
    Helen noticed that he wanted to know all about her, while offering no information about himself. But then again, she had nothing to hide.
    “Yes, and both have remarried twice. I’ve had assorted stepmothers and stepfathers, as well as, let’s see, nine step-siblings at various times. We’re a very