SLEEPING WITH THE DEVIL

LUCA RUNS

*CHAPTER 12: LUCA RUNS*

Luca Moretti ran.

Agent Sofia Conti from Interpol Rome called at 8:17 AM and said it in one breath, angry Italian fast:

"Killian, that bastard Luca, he cut his tracker, took $200,000 cash from his father's safe in Palermo, took a fake passport with name Enzo Russo — same first name as your driver, irony — and he took a private jet last night at 3 AM from Catania airport to... to Manila, Philippines!"

Manila.

My country.

I was sitting on the dock blanket, barefoot bandaged feet, wearing Killian's sweatpants and t-shirt and his mother's diamond necklace, holding a Glock that still smelled like gunpowder from the blue lake salute. And I heard Manila and I froze.

"Manila?" I whispered.

Killian was on speaker phone, his face dark again, devil face back, not pancake face.

"Why Manila?" Killian asked Sofia.

"Because he knows Elara is NBI. He knows her family is in Leyte. He thinks if he goes to Philippines, he can take her family hostage and trade for Enzo's confession. Or he wants to kill them. We intercepted a phone call from Luca to a Filipino fixer in Angeles City. He said: 'Find the Cruz family in Leyte. The NBI girl's mother and sister. Bring them to Manila. I pay $10,000.'"

My mother and my little sister.

My mother is 52, sells fish in Palo market. My little sister is 16, in high school, wants to be a nurse like me before I became NBI.

Luca was going to take them.

I stood up so fast my bandaged feet screamed.

"I have to go! I have to go to Leyte! Now! My mama! My sister!" I started running towards the villa, bandaged feet bleeding again through gauze, but I didn't care.

Killian caught me from behind, arm around my waist, picking me up off the dock before I fell into the lake.

"Elara! Stop! You cannot run on bleeding feet! And you cannot go to Philippines alone! Luca has money, guns, fixer in Angeles, he knows Angeles, it's Mafia town for Italians in Philippines!"

"Then I go! I have to! My family!"

"WE go," he corrected, holding me tight against his chest, my back to his chest, my bare feet dangling. "Not you. We. You took off your badge today, remember? You are just Elara today. So I, Killian Blackwood, will take you to Philippines. With my men, my guns, my money, and my mother's necklace that you are still wearing."

"But... but your father... Interpol... you have to stay here for trial!"

"My father has ten lawyers. He will be in prison for life with or without me. Your mother has only you. So we go to Philippines. Now."

He carried me back to the villa, shouting orders in Italian as he walked, fast, not pervert devil now, but Boss devil.

"Marco! Get the jet ready! Malpensa airport! One hour! File flight plan Milan to Manila via Dubai! Bring eight men, same eight from party! Guns in diplomatic bags! Sofia! Tell your Interpol Manila office we are coming! Tell NBI Agent Cruz is coming home with Blackwood security! And tell them Luca Moretti is landing in Manila, fake passport Enzo Russo, private jet from Catania, track him! And Signora Russo! Pack a bag for Miss Elara! Real clothes! Not maid uniform! Dresses! Pants! And first aid kit!"

Signora Russo was running around, rosary flying, "Si! Si! Mr. Killian!"

He put me down in the master bedroom and locked the door. He opened his closet and took out a small black duffel bag and started throwing his own clothes in — black t-shirts, black jeans, guns, bullets, passports.

"Killian," I said, standing there, bandaged feet, tears running, "why are you doing this? You don't know my mother. You don't know Leyte. Why you go to Philippines for me?"

He stopped packing and looked at me. Really looked at me. From my messy hair to my bandaged feet to his mother's diamond necklace on my neck.

"Because," he said, quiet, honest, no devil smile, "because on Day 1 you came to kill me with a Glock in your garter. On Day 2 you wore red Valentino and cried for your brother on a rotten pier. On Day 3 you ate blueberry pancakes and took off your badge and called me Killian, not sir. And I... I don't want the girl who takes off fear and badge and calls me Killian to lose her mother and sister like she lost her brother. I lost my mother too, Elara. I know how it feels. So we go. We get your family. We put Luca in a deeper lake than Lake Como."

He zipped the duffel and came to me and wiped my tears with his thumbs, same as last night in garden.

"And also," he added, devil smile back, "because if we go to Philippines, you can show me Leyte sea blue. You said Leyte sea blue is warm blue. I want to see warm blue. Not cold blue. I have seen cold blue my whole life."

I cried and laughed at same time. "You... you want to see Leyte sea for blue color?"

"Yes. And to meet your mother who sells fish and makes burned pancakes like Marco. And to see your little sister who wants to be nurse. And to shoot Luca Moretti in warm blue sea instead of cold blue lake."

He picked up my small bag from under the bed — where I hid my NBI badge 0719 and my old Glock 19 garter gun — and handed it to me.

"Today you can wear your badge again. Because we go to Philippines as NBI and Blackwood. Together. Put it on."

I opened the bag and took out my NBI badge, silver, 0719, and pinned it to his huge black t-shirt, over my heart. It looked ridiculous on his t-shirt, but it felt right. I was Agent Elara Cruz again.

"Good," he said. "Now Mafia Queen with badge, with bandaged feet, with diamond necklace, are you ready to go to Manila and hunt Luca Moretti and save your family?"

"Yes, Boss."

"What did I say about sir and boss?"

"Yes... Killian."

"Good girl."

He picked me up again — always picking me up — and carried me downstairs to the waiting black SUVs that would take us to Malpensa airport, to his private jet, to Manila, to Leyte, to my family, to Luca, to war in warm blue sea.

Signora Russo ran after us with a packed pink suitcase for me — "Miss Elara! Dresses! And blueberries! For the plane!"

Day 3, blue lake morning, ended at 9:04 AM with us leaving Villa Blackwood, with Interpol cars still outside watching for Vittorio's men, with Enzo locked in basement, with confession papers and USB in Killian's duffel, with my badge back on, with diamond necklace still on, with bandaged feet, with a devil who wanted to see warm blue sea.

Manila was 16 hours away via Dubai.

Luca landed in Manila at 2 AM tonight, Filipino time.

We would land tomorrow morning.

Would my mother and sister be safe until then?

I held Killian's hand in the SUV, tight, and looked at Lake Como turning smaller behind us as we drove to the airport, black water now blue, blue water soon to be warm blue Leyte sea.

Day 4 would be in Philippines.

26 days left in the contract.

And the contract now said: Sleeping with the Devil in Leyte.