The Vendetta Read Free Page B

jaw that recalled the portrait he’d seen in Rome of Italian Principessa Giovanna Severino di Giorgio in her younger days. And why not? The woman was Lisa’s grandmother.
    He had never imagined that his bargain with the shrewd old woman would place him at this remote ski area in the middle of winter. But, on reflection, he had done many unexpected deeds in pursuit of his revenge. Nick had already deduced that Lisa was very like her grandmother in more ways than just her appearance. The old woman’s determination mirrored a similar quality in Lisa. As far as he knew, none of Nick’s acquaintances had the skill and courage to save the life of a stranger as Lisa was doing right now.
    Nick’s father’s face flashed in his mind, the gray eyes dark with pain, and then blank and staring. He shook his head to clear the image. The situation was not the same at all. There was no knife here. No blood. No despair. He clenched his fists, willing away the memory of Papa’s death.
    “Mr. Carnavale.”
    Startled, he looked at Lisa, who was taking a momentary break while the younger girl, Kimmi, administered the chest compressions.
    “Please,” he said, “call me Nick.”
    “OK. Nick, I need you to do me a favor. Can you look in this guy’s bag to see if he might have an EpiPen for his peanut allergy?”
    “Of course.” He walked over to the bench seat where the man’s backpack rested. “What am I looking for, exactly?”
    “It looks like a thick pen or a marker, about the length of your hand, and it contains a dose of epinephrine. You’ll know it when you see it.”
    “I’ll tear the bag apart if you think it will help.”
    Her mouth lifted in a small smile. “I think a thorough search is enough.” Her smile faded, and she shut her eyes for a second. “God, I hope you find it. It may just save his life.”
    Nick opened the backpack on the table and began rummaging through the man’s business items—laptop, files, pens, phone. He spied a small toilet kit, pulled it out, and unzipped it.
    The jumble of toiletries made him curse in frustration. He made a mental list as he sorted the items onto the table. Shaving cream, toothpaste, razor, toothbrush. Small bottles held shampoo and cologne. He seized on a leather case, but it was only a grooming kit with adhesive bandages and nail clippers. The toiletry bag was now empty. He turned it upside down and shook it. From somewhere inside the bag, a black and white cylinder fell to the table.
    “Is this it?” he asked, holding up the pen.
    Lisa’s head turned and her eyes widened. “Does it say EpiPen on it?”
    It did. In large letters. Grazie a Dio . He brought it to her.
    “This is it. You’re a hero,” she said with conviction. “I could hug you right now.”
    His turn to smile—he would welcome a hug.
    “Help me get his pants down,” Lisa said to Nick. “I have to inject it into his thigh.”
    Kimmi continued CPR as Lisa and Nick wrestled Berger’s designer ski pants down to his ankles. Dignity in an emergency was hard to come by. Nick observed Lisa’s efficient movements as she prepared the injector. She swiftly brought it down into the meaty part of Berger’s leg.
    A scraping gasp came from Berger as his airways cleared. He coughed and sputtered, but he definitely breathed.
    Nick let out the breath he’d been holding.
    The bell on the door jangled again.
    “Somebody call for an emergency?” The EMTs, fully geared up, entered the gallery.
    “Over here, George.” Lisa waved them over to the man on the floor. “Anaphylactic shock. Just administered an EpiPen, and he’s coming around now.”
    “Oh, hey, Lisa,” said the largest of the emergency responders. Though they clearly knew Lisa well, the EMT and his colleagues were all business, taking the man’s vitals, securing the patient to a stretcher, and asking quiet questions of Lisa and Kimmi.
    As the responders did their job, Nick took a seat on the floor next to Lisa. The man was going to live. He