“No.” Holly lowered her voice and a conspiratorial light entered her eyes. “Alessandro Donato did.”
“What?!” The dress dropped to the floor and pooled around Colleen’s ankles. She quickly pulled it back up and slipped her arms through the holes.
Holly eagerly nodded. “I’m telling you, he came out of the trees dressed all in black like some superhero, shot Convy, and made certain Jake was alive before untying me. Then he disappeared as stealthily as he came when he heard the sirens coming.”
Colleen blinked, unsure how to process Holly’s tale. “So you’re saying that Alessandro Donato rescued you and my brother from Convy?”
Eyes wide, Holly bobbed her head. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“Wow! That’s huge.”
Rumor had it that the mysterious newcomer, although Lidia Vance’s nephew, had somehow been responsible for the shooting of his uncle, Mayor Maxwell Vance.
How could Donato save one man’s life and then be suspected of trying to take the life of someone in his own family?
She’d seen Donato at church with his aunt and cousins, but was that just for show? What was the Italian’s relationship with God? And why would he sneak around playing hero?
Struggling with the zipper, Colleen asked a question only Holly could answer. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Come here, let me do that,” Holly said.
Obliging, Colleen turned her back to Holly.
“Hey, he saved our lives. I figured I owed him my silence when he asked for it.” Holly pulled the zipper to the top.
The silky fabric of the dress clung to Colleen’s curves and swished softly as she sat down on the bed next to Holly. “Why tell me this now?”
Holly took Colleen’s hands. “Because I don’t believe that he had anything to do with my uncle Max’s shooting.”
“Hmm.” Colleen hadn’t wanted to believe the good-looking Italian was capable of such evil when she’d heard he was a suspect in the mayor’s shooting, either, but she hadn’t anything concrete to base her gut instinct on.
And in light of the tale Holly had just told…
“I wonder what his story is?”
Holly squeezed her hand. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Meaning?”
Holly wiggled her eyebrows. “I saw the way you and he were making cow eyes at each other at the Valentine’s dinner.”
“Oh, please.” Colleen stood to hide the heat in her cheeks. “We were not making cow eyes.”
“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t find him attractive.”
Colleen reached to the back of her closet and grabbed a pair of black strappy sandals that she hadn’t worn since her oldest brother’s wedding. “So he’s attractive. Big whoop. I’m not in the market for a man.”
Holly’s little chuckle grated on Colleen’s nerves. A romantic relationship would only hinder her career. Colleen’s plans for the future didn’t include risking her heart. She’d tried that once in college and the constant worry and concern she’d felt took her focus away from journalism. Now that she was moving up in her chosen profession, she had no interest in anything romantic.
Holly’s intent gaze captured Colleen’s attention. “In all seriousness, would you investigate him for me? I need to know what’s up with him before I tell anyone about what happened.”
Colleen held out her hand to help Holly from the bed. “I’ll see what I can do. But I can’t promise I won’t report what I find.”
Holly’s mouth quirked. “Can you promise to tell me first so I can prepare Jake?”
“You should tell him anyway.”
“I know.” Distress entered Holly’s eyes. “I will. But I want all the facts before I say anything. You know your brother, he’ll want all the details.”
Colleen smiled. “That is true.”
Holly preceded Colleen into the hall. As Colleen pulled her bedroom door shut behind her she thought about Alessandro Donato.
Tall, dark and mysterious.
The quintessential widower playboy, or so the rumors went. Hero in disguise or con man with an agenda?
She’d give the charming Italian the benefit of the doubt, since he’d protected Holly and Jake when they’d needed it.
But if Alessandro Donato was up to no good, she’d nail his hide to the wall all over the front page of the Sentinel regardless of how attractive she found him.
Alessandro Donato had a vow to fulfill. A vow to rid the world of drug dealers. Such people had cost him his family.
From his vantage point on the opposite side of trendy Fourth Street, he surveyed the bustling crowd making their way toward the door of the Colorado Springs Impressionist Museum for the opening of the Monet, Manet and Renoir collection.
He tugged on the stiff bow tie at his neck, wishing he’d thought to bring his own tux from his home in Italy.
But he’d had no way of knowing he’d still be here on this crisp May night. He’d thought that with the death of Baltasar Escalante, known drug lord, his time in Colorado Springs would have ended long ago and he’d have moved on to another assignment.
But against all logic, Escalante hadn’t died when his plane went down and now had resurfaced back in this thriving community.
Only, Alessandro couldn’t ID him.
His sources were confident that Escalante had had plastic surgery, so the drug lord could be any one of the men in this town. He could even be here tonight.
At the door to the museum Alessandro showed his invitation and was admitted with a cursory nod from the burly doorman.
Once inside, Alessandro took stock of the situation, noting the exits, the windows and the corridor leading to the offices where the staff of the museum worked. He’d only lived this long because he never took anything for granted.
To his right, a young, fresh-faced girl took coats and wraps from the glittering partygoers. He moved forward into the heart of the museum. Gleaming blond hardwood floors shone with a high gloss, picking up the effervescence of the crystal chandeliers.
Several benches were arranged in strategic positions, giving patrons places to sit while they contemplated the works of art on the walls. Classical pieces that attracted a huge crowd. Alessandro had to give the curator credit for securing such masterpieces.
A waiter laden with trays of savory appetizers paused and offered his fare to Alessandro.
“No, grazie ,” he murmured as his gaze snagged on the museum’s curator, Dahlia Sainsbury.
She moved with lethal grace, like a feline on the prowl. Her tall, elegant frame was draped in a signature Chanel dress of soft pink, which emphasized her pale, almost translucent skin.
As usual her dark-as-night hair was sleekly pulled back into a fancy twist at the base of her neck. Her ruby-red lips spread into a slight smile that didn’t reach her sultry eyes.
Her beauty left him cold, and it had nothing to do with his vow never again to be romantically involved with a woman. No, he suspected Dahlia’s beauty covered a heart of deceit.
Alessandro made his way through the crowd toward Dahlia. His instincts had been on full alert for some time now, warning him that she had something to do with Escalante. Alessandro had found a strong tie,