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Produktdetails

Verlag
PublishDrive
Erschienen
2019
Sprache
English
Seiten
153
Infos
153 Seiten
ISBN
978-1-61984-820-7

Kurztext / Annotation

At the age of Sixty-Five, a retired Warren Steelgrave is getting bored with life. He decides that unlike his friends of his age he is not going to sit around playing golf, waiting to die. He is going to Italy to start the last chapter of his life and find adventure. Be careful what you wish for, adventure is what he finds. He falls in love with Cindy O'Brian a singer songwriter in his Italian language class in Florence Italy. Little did they realize the chain of events that would engulf them. Someone was watching, but who and why? He discovers she might not be who she appears to be, but, still decides to help her flee Italy, and the chase begins through northern Italy. Before it is over there will be two dead bodies, a secret government file, a jealous husband, fake identities, a safe house, personal betrayal as the FBI is searching for them and others want to kill them both. Does Warren Steelgrave have another card up his sleeve to save them both? This story takes the reader through the backstreets of Florence and to villages of northern Italy, and from Monte Carlo France to a small town in Kansas America. The Willing is exciting and mysterious.

Textauszug

CHAPTER 11

W E DROVE DOWN THE long driveway of the Hotel Metropole, past two parked Rolls-Royces, a Bentley, and an Aston Martin.

"Checking in, sir?"

"Yes."

"Luggage?"

"Just the overnight bag and backpack."

He gave me a claim check and whisked away the car. I do not think they wanted the little Fiat 500 parked in front of the entrance any longer than was necessary. The doorman pulled opened the door and with a slight nod, said, " Monsieur , Madame . Welcome to the Metropole."

We walked in to the most elegant lobby and bar and straight to the reservation desk. " Bonjour , Monsieur . May I help you?"

"Reservation for Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy."

"One moment, please. Yes. It was made yesterday for tonight only?"

"Yes."

"Passports, please. Thank you. Credit card, please. Sign here. Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. The bellman will show you to your room."

The room was spectacular. It was a mini-suite with a sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom of all Italian white marble, with Hermès shampoos, conditioners, and body creams. From the closet, the bellman pulled out two foldable luggage stands and placed our bags on them.

Then he asked, "Anything more, monsieur?"

I said "No," gave him a tip, and he was gone. I turned to Cindy and said, "Well, Mrs. Kennedy, shall I order up lunch to the room and you can explain to me just how much trouble I am in?"

"Sure," she said. "I want to shower before lunch gets here. Just order me a sandwich."

She gave me a smile but her eyes had a still look. She took some things out of her bag and went into the bathroom. I ordered two turkey sandwiches and a bottle of Champagne and lay back on the bed to rest my eyes and think. She seemed truly shaken at the mention of being killed. I did not think she had considered that possibility. I wondered how much she truly knew.

I dozed off. There was a knock at the door and I woke with a start. I got up and realized the shower was not running. For how long had I dozed off? I opened the door and it was room service. The sitting room had a small balcony with a little table and two chairs. I asked the young woman from the kitchen if she would set up our lunch outside. The whole time, my thoughts were on the quiet bathroom. Had she left with the new ID and ATM card while I was sleeping? Just as I started to panic, I heard something hit the counter. She must have dropped a brush or something.

The young lady, having finished outside, stepped back into the room. "Will there be anything else, monsieur?"

"No," I said. "May I ask if you are you Italian? Your English is very good."

"I am Italian. My family lives in Pisa. I attend the University of Florence and work the summer here. This job pays my living expenses and the tips pay my education."

I thanked her and gave her a 100-euro note tip. Cindy stepped into the room, just as the girl from room service was leaving. "Did I see you tip her 100 euros?"

"Well," I said, "It is like this. A lot of the workers here are Italian and she is busting her butt this summer to help pay for her education. Besides, there is a good chance we are going to get caught and I will not need money anymore."

We walked out, sat down at the table, and started eating. She was lost in thought when I poured her a glass of champagne. She looked up at me and I could not tell if it was deep concern or sadness in eyes. "I did not expect you to get this involved in my troubles. You were going to visit family on the weekend and my hope was that between you and them I could get home without being caught, by the people who are after me. But new identity? How many laws have you broken in just three days?"

"Cindy," I said, "my uncle taught me when I was young; it is always cheaper in the long

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