Cleopatra's Necklace (Devlin Security Force Book 3) Read Free Page B

happiness at seeing René. He was too exhausted from his trip to join us. You have to make do with me.” She stretched her mouth into the semblance of a cheerful smile.
    “That’s so like a man, eh?” Mimi chuckled. She slipped her arm through Cleo’s. “Make you wait and then bug out on you. Where shall we go?”
    The “they” who’d shot René wouldn’t look for her at the Mattio Bar. Too out of the way. Maybe a Campari and soda was what she needed to calm her stomach. If she could manage to choke it down. She couldn’t take long or the killers might think of watching the vaporetti . “I know just the place.”
    “A suitcase, Cleo?” Mimi grinned, indicating the orange-flowered carry-on. “It’s a little small if you’re joining me on the cruise.”
    “Oh, that. Just some new beads to deliver to a craftsman tomorrow.” Amazing how the lie tripped off her tongue. “But I need funds from the ATM before we hit the bar. Would you stay here a minute and watch my case?”
    “Sure, but don’t be long. I have to make it to the Piazzale Roma to catch a taxi tonight or I turn into a pumpkin.”
    “No word for pumpkin in Italian,” Cleo replied as she whisked around the corner. “Maybe a zucchini.”
    Her cousin’s light laugh echoed in the empty street as she fished out her debit card. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. She could do this. They would have a drink before saying farewell. She only hoped this night wasn’t the last time she ever saw Mimi. They’d hoped to get the families together and figure out why the split so many years ago.
    She inserted her card and withdrew it, slipping it into her wallet before punching buttons. She slid out the euros as a commotion broke out nearby. A scuffle. Then low-pitched, angry words.
    Male voices grunted threats in Italian.
    “ No! No! Leave me alone. Go away.”
    Mimi? She stuffed the euros in her pocket, then raced back. Nearing the corner, she heard an odd phumph followed by more Italian curses and the slap of leather-soled shoes on the street.
    Cleo turned the corner as two men ran down the calle with her bag. The echoes of their steps disappeared in the maze of intersecting streets.
    On the paving stones in front of Bijoux Murano Rialto, Mimi sprawled on her side, facing away from Cleo. Her legs and arms splayed like a discarded doll’s, unmoving. The street light glistened on the crimson spreading down her face and beneath her head.
    Cleo’s heart stopped. She jerked forward, her limbs stiff as if frozen. She willed her feet to carry her forward. “Oh God oh God.”
    She fell to her knees beside her fallen cousin. “No,” she breathed, a low moan welling up from the depths. “It can’t be, Mimi. Not you.” Her throat stung as if she’d swallowed acid. Please, God, let her be all right. I’ll do anything.
    She punched the phone buttons. Once. Twice. Damn her clumsy fingers. How could this be happening? First René and now… Finally the emergency dispatcher answered and Cleo stammered a report. “ P-per pi-piacere , hurry! She could die.”
    After she disconnected, she reached out. Stopped. Reached out again, her hand trembling. She drew a deep breath and pressed a finger to the still-warm neck. Laid a hand on Mimi’s back.
    Nothing. No breath. No pulse.
    She knelt there, white noise roaring in her ears, as the poisonous miasma of reality sank in. The now familiar metallic smell of blood assaulted her senses. Her hand went to her throat.
    Mimi was dead.
    Cleo could barely think for the sludge clogging her brain. Mimi must’ve been shot by the thugs who shot René. They thought she was Cleo. They thought the bag contained the necklace. She brushed her cousin’s ponytail from her shoulder. Beautiful, innocent, sweet Mimi. Lightheaded, Cleo fought for air. Fought back the useless sobs crowding her throat.
    Think, Cleo, think.
    The killers wouldn’t find what they wanted in her bag. They might return. If they knew she was alive, her life