Lost in Italy Read online

  Lost In Italy

  by

  Stacey Joy Netzel

  The best laid plans…

  Halli Sanders spent two years planning the trip of a lifetime to Italy. Her itinerary did not include being stranded by her siblings, kidnapped by a sexy American movie star, dodging bullets, or fleeing criminals in a car chase around Lake Como. And that’s just in the first three hours.

  …often go awry.

  Trent Tomlin put his movie career on hold to investigate his brother’s murder-ruled-suicide at his Italian villa. He’s closing in on the suspects when an American tourist unwittingly films the murder of the retired cop helping him. The killers will stop at nothing to get the evidence—including holding Halli’s family as collateral.

  Life’s a little different unscripted.

  Thrust into the role of real-life hero, Trent finds himself falling for the Plain Jane whose beauty blossoms with every challenge they face. But how can he keep the evidence from the murderers to get justice for his brother and friend without betraying Halli and her family?

  Acknowledgements

  First, a note to my readers...

  My editor returned this manuscript to me with the words, “Great job, but the brother and sister ‘accidentally’ leaving the heroine behind seems a bit unrealistic and contrived for the benefit of your plot.”

  My reply? “I’m Halli...minus the movie star and the kidnapping.” (and the murder)

  Yes, to me, being left behind in Italy is (and was) very realistic. Especially since it took my siblings ten minutes to even realize I wasn’t in the car with them.

  Second, I’d like to clarify that Ben and Rachel were only inspired by my siblings, and are not mirror images of my real family. My oldest sister is a red-head, and these days she could handle a vacation without her blow dryer. I think. Thankfully, though, we do share a great friendship just like Halli and Rachel. (so no holding the above comment against me!) And my brother... although he owns a motorcycle like Ben, in real life he speaks fluent Italian. I’d like to tell you he’s as hot as Ben, but he’s my little brother so that’d just be weird. Besides, Ben is a fictional secondary character and Trent is the real star of this book, so let’s move on.

  Special thanks to my son Cody for the boat idea and the many brainstorming sessions as we drove up north. To my brother Troy for his patient help with all my Italian related questions and for loving the book on the first read through even with all the emotional, romance stuff. And to both my siblings, Bridgette and Troy, for leaving me all alone beside Lake Como, Italy back in 1997. I got a whole book out of those twenty minutes.

  Thanks to Donna, Jamie, and Dulcie for the writer’s weekends that helped shape the plot. And last, but not least, I’d also like to thank my great editor Stacy D. Holmes, who challenged me to make this book the best it could be.

  Stacey

  Dedication

  To Bridgette and Troy...for obvious reasons.

  Love you guys!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  About the Author

  Other titles by Stacey Joy Netzel (includes excerpts from Colorado Trust Series)

  Chapter 1

  “For the love of God, Hal, we didn’t travel over ten hours for you to film swans.”

  Halli Sanders ground her back molars together, ignored her sister Rachel, and zoomed her camera in on the flock of white birds across the water. Graceful and serene, they stood out in stark contrast to the dark, shaded water of the small inlet her brother had parked near. A shaky breath helped steady her hands.

  “You guys wanted to stop, now I want to see if Lake Como, Italy and Lake Como, WI have more in common than their names,” she informed her sister and brother.

  “Who cares?” Rachel moaned. “And it was Ben’s bright idea to pull over, not mine. I just want to find the hotel and shower away some of this jet lag. And, we still have to find a converter for my hair dryer.”

  Halli rolled her eyes and kept filming. Yes, she was being snotty about it, but they’re the ones who threw away her meticulously planned itinerary so they could make impromptu stops like this. Ben specifically had insisted she lighten up, as if she’d chosen to become a control freak after their crazy, unstable years on the run with their parents.

  The half dozen or so swans had floated into the sunlight, near a wooden dock in front of a stone villa. She wondered who lived there. The tabloids always talked about George Clooney’s house on Lake Como in Italy and how he always had friends visiting—could this be it? If it was, any number of stars could be there right now.

  That’s it, she told herself. Focus on something other than the fact her plans had all been scrapped. She did not want her anxiety issues ruining this vacation. As long as she had Ben and Rachel, she’d be fine.

  She allowed herself one last lingering look at the regal villa through the viewfinder. The weathered stonework was beautiful, but the shiny, reflective windows captured her attention. She loved large windows that let in natural light. Wished she had them in her studio apartment overlooking the lake back home.

  Ben ran interference behind her. “We’ll go find the hotel first, then an electronics store, then we’ll find a place to eat. Sound okay?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Rachel agreed, her tone full of exaggerated drama. “Let’s go, Hal.”

  “Fine. I’m coming.” Halli took a step backward, but a movement in the windows caught her attention. She paused and steadied the camera. The front door to the villa burst open. As someone ran outside, the swans took flight, their startled cries echoing across the water.

  Behind her, she heard car doors open. Then Ben’s, “Oh, hurry up—there’s a break in traffic.”

  Bam. Bam. Vrrooommm.

  The slamming doors made Halli glance over her shoulder. She did a double take when the little blue car her brother had rented in Milan shot off the curb.

  “Hey—” She spun around, took a few steps, then stopped with a disbelieving laugh. “Real funny, guys.”

  Surely any second now, they’d give up the joke, pull to the side, and wait for her to catch up as they laughed their hilarious frickin’ heads off.

  No brake lights.

  No U-turn.

  Nothing.

  The blue car accelerated around the bend in the road and disappeared.

  Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach sunk. Muttering under her breath, she looked around self-consciously, doing her best to distract herself from the fact that she was suddenly all alone in a foreign country. A dark-haired man across the street glanced her way with open curiosity. Thankfully, he kept walking. Cars cruised past; a couple kids on bikes; a woman on a moped. Though the kids stopped a short distance away, no one paid her much attention over the next few minutes.

  Well, sure. Lake Como, Italy was probably used to lost tourists, what did they care?

  No, you’re not lost. The adamant statement helped to steady her breathing. That’s right. Ben and Rachel would be back any moment. She had nothing to worry about as long as she didn’t leave this spot.


  The man across the street gave her a more thorough inspection and a chill trickled down her spine. Halli averted her gaze and hugged her arms around her middle. Her heart rate continued its steady acceleration.

  Oh, she was going to kill them when they got back. They’d pulled pranks in the past, but this one was cruel—especially her first time travelling overseas. Why would they do this now? Ben may live life with the motto “Rip the Band-Aid off”, but not Halli. It had to be a joke, right? It was either that, or they didn’t know she wasn’t in the car. But how could anyone miss something like that?

  If Ben’s phone wasn’t the only one equipped to make international calls, she’d call and give them a loud, extended piece of her mind.

  Stop! You’re going to be fine. There are plenty of people around and no one’s going to do anything in broad daylight. She clutched the small travel purse hanging diagonal across her chest containing her passport. See? If you need help, you can prove you’re a US citizen.

  Not that she’d need to prove her citizenship. Any minute the blue car would come back around the bend. Any second even.

  She stared down the road, counting seconds.

  Seconds became minutes.

  Maybe they didn’t know she’d been left behind. What then? How long before they came back? Desperate to control the unrelenting apprehension no amount of silent talk would quell, Halli turned back to the lake as if she’d find answers somewhere across the water.

  A lone swan near shore reminded her of the camera still clutched in her hand. The red light on the front reminded her she was still recording. Ironically, the camera was part of the reason she was sitting here alone, and yet she’d completely forgotten about it.

  She stopped the video and swiveled to take a seat on the cool ledge of stone that held the lake water at bay. It was the perfect vantage point to keep the loitering man across the street in sight. A glance over her shoulder located where the other swans had landed a good distance from the villa’s dock.

  She frowned and faced the lake. Strange how that person had burst so suddenly from the villa.

  The noon sun sat at a point that she had to squint and shade her eyes to see the structure’s stone walls across the small inlet of water. Even then, it was too far away for the naked eye. Flipping open the viewfinder as she lifted the camera, she waited for it to focus, then tried to zoom. The low battery indicator flashed as she maxed the zoom.

  She studied the picture. Something was different—one of the windows looked odd. Her attention snagged on a tall figure in the corner of the pane. Longish dark hair above a square jaw with a severe slash for a mouth. He raised a pair of binoculars to look across the bay. Her pulse jerked when he zeroed in and stared straight at her—

  Tires squealed and an engine revved loud to her right. Halli jumped about a foot. Ben and Rachel! An uncharacteristic spurt of anger doubled her anxiety as she whirled around.

  “I can’t believe you guys left—”

  Words disappeared with the heart-stuttering realization that the shiny blue convertible half pulled onto the cobblestone sidewalk was not her brother and sister. And the man in the driver’s seat most certainly was not her brother.

  Plain was the first word that came to mind when Trent Tomlin got a good, close-up look at the girl dressed in baggy black pants and an oversized black T-shirt. Except for her eyes. Almost the exact color of his car, they blazed with anger—if the shrill tone of her voice were any indication.

  Because he couldn’t afford to waste a second, he slipped into his carefree, celebrity character while pushing up his Ray Bans to flash his trade-mark, million dollar grin past the two day’s worth of camouflaging scruff on his jaw.

  “Hi.” Usually that’s all he needed. One…two…

  Astonishment replaced anger.

  …three.

  “Oh my God. You’re Shain West.”

  “Only in the movies, darlin’.”

  That always got ‘em, too, the good-ol’-boy, southern drawl. Didn’t matter he’d been born and raised in northern Oregon, he had a natural talent for mimicking any accent. After just a few words, he easily placed her in mid-west United States. American tourist. Perfect. It also explained why she’d been video taping in the wrong place at the wrong damn time. The opposite of his brother, and if he could help it, the opposite outcome.

  Her cheeks flushed. “Of course. I know your real name. Sorry. It’s just—I’m…ah…I’m…”

  Hell, he’d better speed this up. “Can I give you a lift?”

  “W-what?” She craned her head around, as if he might be speaking to someone else.

  Resisting the urge to check over his shoulder, he kept his gaze trained on her. “You look lost. Hop in and I’ll give you a ride.”

  Her throat convulsed, and though he wouldn’t have thought it possible, her blush deepened to crimson. A fleeting smile revealed even, white teeth.

  “Oh, no. I mean, um, thank you, but no.”

  She lifted a hand to tuck a strand of straight brown hair behind her ear as she searched back and forth along the road.

  Trent cast his own quick glance in the rearview mirror, pressure squeezing his body like a starving boa constrictor as he searched for the men who’d spotted her and her camera across the bay. By his amateur calculations, he figured he had about three more minutes. If they were lucky.

  Pushing up to sit on the headrest, he prepared to turn on the superstar charm that had brought him such success at the box office.

  “I’m waiting for my brother and sister,” she said before he could speak.

  So that’s who’d driven off as he watched the scene unfold from one street above and behind her. He lifted a tense shoulder in a careless gesture. “Quick spin around town, and I’ll bring you right back. They’ll never know you were gone, sugar.”

  Her eyebrows drew together above those deep blue eyes. Damn. He fought his own frown. Based on previous experience with star-struck women, she should’ve jumped in at the first invitation. Wasn’t it just his luck, this one had common sense.

  Leaving the car running, he swung his legs over the door and rounded the front of the convertible. His heart thumped with each step as he tried to figure out the best way to get her out of this mess. It was one thing when he was following a script, but how the hell did one orchestrate a rescue in real life when the rescuee wouldn’t cooperate and he had no time to explain the danger? It’s not like he could play her the recording tucked in his pocket.

  The girl backed away from his approach. He fought back rising apprehension and forced an easy smile.

  “Look, I appreciate the offer, Shain, but—”

  “Trent.”

  “Right.” Her blush deepened. “I know. Trent. But I—”

  “I need you to get in the car.” As an afterthought, he added, “Please.”

  “Um…”

  He used her glance down the road as cover for his own. Still time, yet his control slipped. “Seriously. Get in.”

  The sharp command widened her eyes. Suspicion darkened them to navy, and she took another step backward. Then her shoulders squared while her gaze narrowed with determination. “No.”

  The right taillight on his Alfa Romeo exploded. Trent ducked reflexively as bits of plastic flew in all directions. Adrenaline spiked through him, but other than a sharp reactive jerk, the girl just stood there holding her camera. Trent lunged forward, grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the car.

  “Hey—let me go!” She pulled back with surprising strength.

  He picked her up and shoved her head first into the passenger seat, then vaulted over her to slip behind the wheel. Heartbeat thundering in his ears, he gunned the gas with a sickening grinding of gears before the convertible shot out into traffic amidst screeching tires and blaring horns. A frantic half-second glance in the rearview mirror confirmed a black vehicle weaving through the cars behind them.

  Shit. Damn. Fuck!

  He switched his concentration to the road in front. If he
didn’t lose these guys fast, they were dead.

  The girl’s brown head popped up in his peripheral vision. Three bullets spidered his windshield in rapid succession. The bobbing head screamed and disappeared. His hands jerked on the wheel, and he narrowly missed hitting a motor scooter head-on.

  “Shit!”

  Scrunching down in his seat, Trent shot a glance toward the passenger seat. “You okay?” Nothing. His heart dropped and he risked another frantic look. “I asked if you’re okay!”

  “No, I’m not okay!”

  “Were you hit?”

  “By what?”

  He couldn’t help an incredulous laugh as another bullet took out his right side mirror. He wrenched the wheel to the left. A loud thud was followed by a muffled “Ow”. Trent cut in front of an oncoming van and slammed the car into third going uphill.

  The girl’s brown head appeared again, hair wild about her face in the wind.

  “For crissakes, stay the hell down,” Trent yelled.

  Instead, she maneuvered her butt around until she could plunk it in the passenger seat and yank on the safety belt. Then she glared at him. He couldn’t see it because his eyes were glued to the road, but, man, did he feel it.

  “My God, slow down, would you?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m not kidding,” she hollered above the growl of the engine and whistling wind. “Did Rachel and Ben put you up to this?”

  “Who?”

  “My sister and brother. Did they arrange this?”

  He risked a glance with a half-cocked grin of disbelief. “What exactly do you think this is?”

  “Look out!”

  Trent jerked his attention back to the road in time to see a delivery truck blocking the way. “Shit!”

  The tires screamed as he stomped on the brakes. Jamming the convertible into reverse, he turned to locate a side street behind them, his grip on the headrest of her seat white-knuckled. The moment he was clear, he spun the wheel, ground the gears and floored the gas. The poor girl’s head jerked forward, back, forward with each successive switch of direction.