took a moment to absorb that. “I’m not police or FBI,” he pointed out at last. “What are you going to do?”
She thrust out her chin. “I’ll find out what they want and deliver it.” The steel was back in her voice.
Sal kept his face impassive, but his mind was churning through possibilities. None of them good. As capable and intelligent as she was, Olivia was no match for kidnappers. He wasn’t going anywhere, but first, he had to convince her that she needed him. “What if I promise to not interfere and to keep a low profile?”
“I can’t risk it.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice because I’m not leaving.”
“Then I guess you’re staying.” The begrudging tone told him that she didn’t want him there but was glad he was there anyway.
A smile tugged at his lips. That was Olivia. Self-sufficient to a fault. Her mouth trembled, though, mute evidence that she wasn’t as confident as she pretended. If he hadn’t looked closely, he would have missed it.
Olivia put a hand to her mouth, as though aware of the giveaway. He didn’t comment on it. She wouldn’t appreciate the observation.
For a fraction of a moment, he wondered why he was trying so hard to convince her to let him help.
Not for the first time, he wondered why he had been born with a conscience that was as much taskmaster as moral compass. He should walk away from Olivia and her problem, content in the knowledge that he’d tried to help. The few times he’d ever ignored his conscience, however, he’d lived to regret it.
He had enough regrets to last several lifetimes.
* * *
One look at Sal and Olivia knew she’d have a fight on her hands to convince him that she could handle this on her own. The sharp angles of his face were cast in even harsher lines than usual.
It was his warrior face, one she’d seen only once before but the memory was forever etched in her mind. Two men had tried to rob her and Sal as they’d left a restaurant one night. One of the men had pushed her to the ground, causing her to cry out.
Sal had taken them down quickly and efficiently. When he’d turned to her, the ferocity in his eyes had sent her pulse into overdrive.
“The police will be here in a minute,” she’d said to defuse the anger that radiated from him.
“They wanted more than to rob us. If they had hurt you...”
“I’m okay. Thanks to you.” The experience had made her determined to never again be so powerless and she’d started studying martial arts.
He still wore the mantle of the soldier he’d been across his shoulders, telegraphing an innate desire to protect, to defend, to stand between danger and those weaker than himself. He was a good man, an honorable man, whose self-assurance and unshakable sense of justice defined him as much as the dark hair and skin that hinted at his Italian ancestry.
Against her will, Olivia felt herself responding to his appeal. To him. That stunning realization unfolded in the space of one heartbeat and shocked her into stillness. With an effort, she did her best to ignore it.
He looked the same as he had the last time she’d seen him, right down to the off-center dimple that punctuated his chin. She longed to smooth her finger in that shallow dent. Deliberately, she fisted her hands at her sides to keep from doing that very thing.
She couldn’t deny the frisson of pleasure she’d experienced when he’d walked into her office that morning as the sky grew pink with dawn. Nor could she shake off the sweet memories that assailed her, memories she’d locked away for two long years.
Olivia wanted to believe he was here because he cared about her, but she knew better. She pushed from her mind the unwelcome memory of how they’d parted, and concentrated on the present.
She let her gaze take in the man who had once meant so much to her. At five feet and nine inches, she was hardly petite. Still, she had to look up at Sal, who stood a good five inches over six feet. Broad shoulders, narrow waist and legs that were as sturdy as telephone poles, not to mention a military bearing, gave him an imposing presence.
No, there was nothing soft about Salvatore Santonni. With hard planes and abrupt angles, his face would never place him in the pretty-boy category. It had too much strength and stubborn resolve for such insipid looks and bore the lines and ruggedness that came from long hours exposed to the wind and the sun. His dark eyes missed nothing and portrayed a startling intensity.
Arms folded across his wide chest, he broadened his stance as though preparing for resistance. He knew her too well and had already anticipated her response.
But how else could she react? This was Calvin’s life they were talking about. She had to do what the kidnappers said. Exhaustion and hunger dragged at her, but it was the riot of emotions roiling through her that had turned her stomach inside out and her mind to mush.
She wet her lips. “I can’t risk involving you,” she said at last, panic rising with each syllable. “The kidnappers will know.”
“How will they know?”
“I don’t know.” She all but shouted the words. “All I know is that I have to do what they said. If I don’t... Calvin will die. I can’t let that happen. I won’t let it.”
“Just how do you plan to get him back? Ask nicely and hope the kidnappers play by the rules?”
Resentment filled her. Sal wasn’t responsible for bringing Calvin home safely. She was. With renewed purpose, she squared her shoulders and braced herself for what came next.
“You won’t get Chantry back on your own. Take a breath and then we’ll decide on our next step.”
“You can’t be here. They’ll know.”
Sal knelt in front of her. “You can do this. We can do this. But we have to be smarter than the bad guys.” He took her hands and folded them inside his own. “Whoever’s behind this is counting on you reacting with fear. You’re smarter than that.”
“Am I?” She hated the self-doubt in her voice and looked down at their clasped hands. Then raised her gaze to his. His dark eyes locked on hers. She saw strength and courage there. Maybe she could draw on some of his when her own was so lacking. Before she thought better of it, she voiced her thoughts aloud.
“I didn’t want to call you.” The admission cost her, but she plunged on. “I didn’t want to lean on you, but I’m doing exactly that.”
“You can lean on me whenever you like,” he said.
In that instant, she thought of the Lord and remembered that He’d said that all who came to Him could lean on Him.
She’d never doubted that the Lord would be there for her, but a man she hadn’t seen in two years was asking her to put Calvin’s life in his hands. Could she do it? Unbidden, the memory of Sal leaving her with scarcely a goodbye intruded into her thoughts, sending a spear of pain through her.
“Lean on you like I did two years ago?” She flushed at
