The Vendetta Read Free

you—you’re so efficient. Anyway, Nick Carnavale…wow.” She silently mouthed the last part.
    Lisa rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help grinning back.
    She turned to the espresso machine to dump the used grounds out of the filter and ready it for the next drink order. Despite a demanding, stingy boss and the occasional difficult customer, she put the last three years of working at Art and Bean into the “good gig” category. It certainly paid better than some of her previous jobs, art history degree or no. A warm glow lit her heart when she thought of the modest pile of money she had been able to save for her dream to own an art gallery. If she could just stay focused, in a few months she might be able to put a down payment on the space she’d had her eye on.
    She caught herself looking over toward the window again and forced her gaze back to the espresso. Maybe that was why mystery man Nick Carnavale intrigued her. In addition to being wildly attractive, she knew he knew about art. Bought it, collected it. But he probably just considered art a prudent place to stash his money. While to her, art was life .
    She readied two tall coffees of the day for the next two customers, dispensing free samples of the gallery’s signature muffins with an absent smile.
    All the while Lisa kept track of Nick, who had moved to a more comfortable leather club chair. He turned the pages of the paper with crisp precision. The afternoon sunlight played over his face and cast it in bold lines. Strong jaw, straight nose, slashing brows, dark hair. His eyes flicked up and caught hers. They were a bright, crystalline gray.
    The jolt to her midsection forced a grin and a blush. The Italian’s eyes lit up, and for the briefest second, Lisa felt connected, whole. Then his face blanked, the dark eyebrows drawing into a frown, and he returned abruptly to his paper.
    Her stomach sank to her toes. Jeez, Lisa, why don’t you just ask the man for his autograph while you’re at it? With a slight shake of her head, she went back to cleaning the steam wand on the Cimbali.
    Kimmi burst around the corner. “Lisa, we have a problem.” She grabbed Lisa’s wrist and pulled her over to the main seating section where the cappuccino-extra-foam man lay on his side on the long bench seat that took up one wall. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his undone jacket straggled across his chest. Lisa approached him and went down on one knee. At this range she could see the mottled color of his face. His breath wheezed through his mouth and nose in labored gusts.
    “Can anyone tell me what happened?” she asked.
    The man’s eyes rolled toward her, open to mere slits between puffy lids. His head moved weakly on the cushion, and his fingers scratched at the neck of his shirt.
    “Can’t breathe…can’t breathe…please…”
    “Maybe it would be better if you sit up. Can you do that for me?” Lisa stood and grasped the man’s damp shirtfront with one hand, pulling on his shoulder with the other. He was heavy, dead weight.
    “Here, let me.” Nick Carnavale reached around Lisa and pulled Cappuccino Man up so he was sitting on the bench.
    “Thanks.” Lisa cast a grateful smile at the Italian. The distressed man’s breathing eased, but his hands still scratched nervously at his collar.
    She turned to the small crowd gathered in the shop. “Do any of you know him?”
    The blank stares and shakes of the head from the bystanders revealed nothing, but she was conscious of a vibe that she needed to do something. Good thing she’d dabbled as a flight attendant after college and, briefly, as an EMT when she’d first come to Telluride. Only the Italian—Nick—had stepped forward to help so far.
    OK then, plan B. She took a seat next to the man and gave him a reassuring smile. “I know your drink, sir. But what’s your name?”
    The smile he returned was sickly at best. “Berger…Sam Berger.”
    “OK, Mr. Berger, do you have any pain?” she asked,