Bethany's bikini was an indigo blue that left little to the imagination, with fringes that danced from side to side as she walked. She had been tanning by lying on the sand until she felt hot and then decided to enter the sea, which swayed to the rhythm of the waves.He remembered how he had longed to go to that beach. He had seen it in brochures and catalogues, wishing to see himself under its incandescent sun while he rolled on the sand and the crystal-clear water wet his skin. It was Eden on earth.She came out of the sea and approached her fiancé who was covered by an awning, sporting expensive sunglasses, sitting in a folding chair. He had not taken his eyes off his beloved for a moment.-Nothing?-Bethany asked, settling into the folding chair next to him and drying her locks with a towel.-Yes, although I don't feel like it right now. - The Italian refused, taking off his glasses. He wasn't a big fan of being in the crowd. It was the reason he had refused to take her to the beach
Calmer, he returned to the beach and its unpleasant crowd. He appeared before his fiancée with a smile that would wipe the bitterness from her face.-I'm sorry for the delay, I was... - He tried to think of a pretext, but his mind was ineffective at doing so.-Someone from the hotel informed me that the spa is ready. -Bethany said, not so smiling.-I forgot. -he said, uttering a curse. He planned to surprise her. Once again he allowed his work to distract him from what was important. They made their way to the hotel where they were led by a couple of masseuses to a private room. They were shown a second room where they could shed their clothes. They were in the mood to become a married couple so they were both led to the same room. Had they consulted, Bethany would have opted for one for herself.-Don't worry, I won't see anything. -Ciro consoled her, knowing her so well. And
Bethany's eyelids jerked up. The bad dreams continued to disturb her rest. A chase and gunshots, her running, escaping death. Visions that made her heart rate spike. It was torturous.She turned around in bed, feeling alone. Ciro wasn't there. She left the bed wearing a blue silk robe with white stripes. She left the bedroom quietly, her lack of shoes making her stealthy. She didn't have to walk far to find her fiancé who was in the living room, sitting in front of a laptop that she didn't even know how he got. He was holding a cell phone to his ear, which he assumed wasn't his, since it had flown into hundreds of pieces against the stones.-Stop production. The Russian police must be investigating its origin right now. We must keep a low profile. Cancel business phone numbers, emails or any other means of contact. -Bethany heard despite the careful tone in which she spoke.-...-Forget them. They knew the risks of the job.-...-That
She reached out with one of her hands to slide the alarm clock and glance at the time: 1:00 p.m. Bethany had been in bed for a long time without being able to fall asleep.She put on some fuzzy slippers and left the room. She knew what was wrong with her rest. One night sleeping next to Ciro was enough for her body to remember the essence of sleeping next to the warm shelter of another body.He walked through the hallways and came to the room where Ciro slept. The door was ajar so he entered without warning. There was no one there. The bed was unmade and Ciro's already familiar laptop was resting on it. He was seriously a workaholic. He crawled from under the bed to reach the device that was on the pillows. And when his fingers brushed the computer, he felt a second hand take his own. With one pull, Ciro lifted her up and kissed her.-What are you doing up? - the Italian asked against her lips.-I could ask you the same question. -Bethany replied. The second kiss was her initiative. T
Brahim took a piece of crimson cloth and used it to blindfold a white woman with reddish hair who was standing in the middle of the room dressed only in her white linen panties.-What are you planning to do to me? -Bethany asked, ecstatic.Brahim refrained from any response, as was his custom. The mystical essence was part of the game. He positioned himself behind his sister-in-law and parted her hair in two to place wet kisses along the length of her neck and down her back until he was kneeling. He grabbed her panties and pulled them down to her ankles.He placed a soft kiss on her right buttock, followed by a painless bite. Bethany bit her lower lip, feeling eager. Brahim stood up and gathered all of her reddish hair to throw it to one side.-Are you thinking about my brother? - He asked, whispering in her ear.-No. - She said in a whimper, reveling in the massage Brahim was giving her thighs, teasing her intimate area. -You don't look anything like him.-Is that a compliment?-Take
Bethany hadn't been able to get the memory that suddenly came to her mind out of her head. The one that reflected her lying on her back with a strong body on top of her. The unusual thing, and what had her thinking, was that, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't link Ciro with that fragment of her memory. The piece that fit precisely was that of her brother-in-law. In the beginning, it was his perfume that stirred the tide.-Bethany. - The Italian mentioned for the fourth time, finally getting her attention. Then she realized that she hadn't heard anything of what her fiancé was happily telling her.They were at the Florentín café, having breakfast. If Bethany knew Ciro, she would know that an average coffee shop that served cappuccino from a machine was not a place he frequented.-What do you say?-Bethany asked, picking at her salad. The other sighed.-I was telling you about your parents returning to the United States next wee
He left the bathroom and noticed that his fiancée was ready to go back out onto the street.-Where are you going? -He asked without sounding jealous.-With my parents. I know what hotel they're staying at. - Bethany answered, putting the notebook in which she wrote down her life's conjectures into a small cloth bag on her cross-body belt.His tone of voice was indifferent, the clearest sign with which Ciro could corroborate his disappointment.-I can go with you if you want.-No, but I appreciate it. –He didn't think about his answer. When he was about to leave the room, he felt the Italian's hand holding his.-Let me call the driver then. You're not ready to drive yet.-Do you have a driver?-We have a driver, yes. –He corrected her.It was a debate in which Bethany had few arguments in her favor. She hadn't even tried to drive since she left the hospital. So, swallowing her pride, she agreed. That pa
Bethany moved slightly to glance at the alarm clock on the side table. It was midnight and she couldn't sleep. She looked to her left side and told Ciro that he was completely under the spell of Morpheus. He slept without a shirt and in shorts, the effect of summer. She caressed his strong biceps with the tip of her finger, cleaning them of marks. Without scars or a drop of ink. In her mind, images of a pair of male arms came and went, one covered in tattoos; from the shoulder to the wrist and the other with a kind of police badge with the number sixty-seven inside it, tattooed precisely on the upper part of the biceps. Memories that did not correspond to her future husband. She turned onto her back to look at the ceiling, helped by the dim light from the patio that filtered through the open window on the balcony and cut through the darkness. She let out a regretful sigh that indicated her anguish. It had been
Once again, Bethany woke up in a bland, cold hospital bed, but this time it wasn't in Florence, and her name wasn't Bethany either, but Anne. As soon as she arrived on American soil, she felt immense relief; she would finally stop fighting for her life. She was taken to a hospital that offered exclusive services to law enforcement officers, veterans, and their families. They subjected her to different tests, from blood tests to a psychological study. Finally, she was alone, lying on her back looking out the window at a moon that was a couple of nights away from being full; it was just as beautiful as in Italy. She thought about Brahim, if she had gotten to a hospital in time or if he would have died in the helicopter. And she also thought about Ciro, about that last promise he had made her. She didn't want to obsess, but it was almost impossible. If she had learned anything from Ciro Tonali, it was that he was stubborn; he would do everything possible to keep his word. "Bethany"
The vastness of the forest was reduced to Ciro's feet, he knew it like the back of his hand, and that was no exaggeration. He had grown up there, he had played hide and seek with Brahim many times, he had also walked there with his father looking for wildlife to hunt. He would never have imagined that in the future he would hunt his wife. It was when he understood that he was not the master of his destiny, which was what scared him the most.- Where are you taking me? - Anne asked, finally calming her tears. She walked ahead of Ciro, one of his hands holding her thin neck, while in her free hand she held the gun in the area of her lower back.-Brahim is waiting for us. – was all he said. He felt his heart squeezing, resisting this act of cruelty towards his wife, the woman of his life. He had found her hiding behind the rock long before the agent did and he stood frozen, watching her in ter
Anne found herself facing a wooded area of more than fourteen thousand two hundred hectares, she had already crossed them on her own foot, although this time it was different, because she had a pair of criminal brothers following her. She couldn't go down the main road, the only path free of weeds and leaves, where the vehicles moved, it would be too obvious. She advanced along the right furrow, clearing her path of branches and leaves, watching the ground carefully to jump over puddles or stones that she could trip over. She wasn't sure if there were snakes or spiders hiding in the undergrowth, she had no room to think about it, the real danger was the Tonali brothers. Her heart leapt into her chest when she became aware of the echoing footsteps following hers. She quickly hid behind the thick trunk of a tree, hoping not to be seen. She heard the static typical of radio communicators, followed by the booming
It was 2:13 in Italy. Ciro's sleepless nights had already become a habit, as had his taste for liquor. He was in the cellar of his house drinking Sicilian anise, the bitter taste of which was accompanied by equally bitter memories that revived the moment when his own brother, blood of his blood, told him that he had impregnated his wife, the woman of his life. If he got drunk it was not to forget, he never understood people who drank to forget their sorrows, he kept them fresh in his mind, he did it to be able to fall asleep. He used liquor as a soporific substance. The silence of his solitude was broken by the ringing of his cell phone. He took the device with his free hand, without letting go of the glass of anise, and glanced at the caller ID, noticing a call from one of his lackeys. He pressed the green button and brought the cell phone to his ear, while bringing the glass to his mouth.-Sir, I have
Around nine o'clock at night, Michael, handcuffed and guarded as if he were a high-ranking leader of some South American Carter gang, returned to his native country, the United States. The autumn breeze that blew, carrying with it the smell of hot dogs, hamburgers and tacos, the English accent resonating on every corner and the delirious people walking the streets talking to nothing, welcomed him to a land to which he never thought he would return. SWAT convoy he was transported from the helipad to the operations headquarters. Once there, lower-ranking officers processed him, offered him a more comfortable coat, and fed him. Michael was not averse to any deal, and when he had to be cooperative, he was. However, he did not ignore the failure to read his rights. He was not wrong in assuming that this was no small oversight. The feds were running roughshod over legislation. They called law only
With two hundred thousand euros in his pocket, Michael had lived the last few months like a celebrity: traveling, going to and from parties, drinking alcohol in abundance and consuming other substances, and in addition to all this he had the pleasant female company of some women who would do anything in exchange for money. But he was not stupid, he knew that in the shadow of his gloating there were consequences. He had sold valuable information to the Italian mafia with an FBI agent in danger. That is why he was not surprised when he saw a BND patrol. (Federal Intelligence Service in German) parking outside the five-star hotel where he was staying for more than seven days. He swore and quickly packed a couple of wads of cash and some gold and silver items, anything of considerable value, into a small gym bag. His days of jubilation were over, and he now had to answer to higher-ups. Although i
They left the mansion aboard the already familiar Mustang bound for Florence. The city was invaded by the artificial lights of billboards, street lamps and shops stealing the spotlight from the moon that shone in its maximum splendor. Anne watched her through the window, following her as if she were trying to protect her from the man who was driving beside her. Ciro had not said a single word since they left the mansion. Not even when he saw her back wearing the dress he himself had chosen for her. He had only made sure that she was wearing the wedding ring on the right finger.“Where are we going?” Anne asked, choking on the silence. She was ignored. Ciro ignored her question as if she hadn’t said anything. The journey had seemed long for Anne, perhaps it was the distance from one point to the other or the silence. But they finally arrived. The restaurant was familiar to Anne, she had
A second ultrasound revealed healthy fetal development, in harmony with the mother who had followed Dr. Lamberti's instructions to the letter. The pregnancy was already beginning to be an external reflection, her flat abdomen was growing, forming a small, though noticeable, belly. They left the consulting room (or rather, Lamberti's house). Anne had an inconceivable feeling. A second look at her son left her strangely moved. She couldn't say if it was like this the first time, with her firstborn, or if it was a new sensation, either way it wasn't right, the situation she was in didn't allow her to think of sleeping teddy bears or color palettes. As much as it hurt her, the fate of that child was still in doubt.-Hey Anne… - Brahim suddenly said, staying a couple of steps behind, she had already opened the door of the Roll Royce - I feel like I owe you an apology for everything I've said
Although he would have liked to say nothing to James about the letter, Jonas saw no other alternative, so he traveled to the journalist's house and explained the situation SWAT was in, that blind spot from which it was not moving forward, and the solution he had approved as effective.-The private detective you hired would probably have found the house of these two criminals. - Jonas said. - If you give me the information he collected, maybe we can find an address.-That damn detective turned out to be a con man.-That!-As you hear. He was asking for more, much more than what was agreed in exchange for what he had discovered. I lost track of him weeks ago, I haven't heard from him again. - Jonas listened attentively, thoughtfully. It was not an option that was ruled out.-Give me his details and everything you know, or think you know about him, we will find it somehow. -And so James did. Michael was not a hidden or mysterious character, on the con