Bile swashed up my gullet and into my mouth.

I ran.

Skidding into the bathroom, I threw the toilet seat up and purged my system of lychee martinis and Italian entrées in a wicked wave of vomit.

Cold sweat dotted my spine as my stomach convulsed.

Franco’s thumb. They’d cut off his thumb.

I retched again.

If they did that to get to Q, what the hell would they do to him now he was in their clutches?

I moaned, convulsing harder; my soul tried to claw its way out of my mouth.

Gentle fingers whispered across my neck, tugging damp strands, twisting them into a messy bun.

I looked up, still hugging the porcelain. Franco gave me a sad smile. “It’s probably a good thing it’s all out of your system. But we need to go. Do you think you’ll be okay?” I couldn’t help looking at his left hand, saturated in blood, wrapped with his tie around the stump of where his thumb used to be.

My stomach rolled as an image of Q’s fingers being cut off consumed me, but I swallowed hard.

Stop being a f**king girl.

I refused to waste another minute. Wiping my mouth, I stood up and made my way to the sink. Franco shuffled with me, holding my hair so I could wash my face. The broken dress gaped and flashed my br**sts but I was beyond caring. Franco and I were well past a bit of flesh. He’d just become my lifeline in order to get Q back.

“Give me one minute,” I croaked through my bile-scalded throat.

Franco nodded, releasing my hair.

Rushing to the wardrobe, I grabbed a thick black jumper and jeans. Shoving the dress down my hips, I quickly yanked the jeans on and threw the sweater over my head, before wedging my feet into some ballet flats.

Franco limped toward me, a slight smirk on his lips. “Have to say that brought back memories of watching you dress into that slinky gold number for Q’s dinner party.” Then his eyes darkened. “Has he told you why he did that yet?”

My mind flashed back to the past—the mermaid filigree dress that hid nothing and offered everything to the Russian in the white jump suit. Shaking my head, I muttered, “No. But whatever his reasoning, I accept it. I knew even then he wasn’t as bad as he came across. I think I loved him the moment you forced me to bow.”

Franco half-smiled. “I only forced you because I understood the look in his eyes. He’d never had that look before.”

Going to him, I slung his arm over my shoulders, taking some of his weight. “What look?” We hobbled to the exit.

It was good to keep my mind on other things. It distracted me from what Q might be suffering—kept me levelheaded.

Franco sighed. “Lust…attraction…maybe even love. Who knows.” Giving me a quick smile, he said, “Either way. I knew he wanted you, and I wanted to see him happy.”

Franco opened the doorknob; we made our way slowly into the corridor.

This is going to take forever. He’s too injured.

I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for having Franco’s help, but we needed to go. We needed to hunt. How could we do that if Franco could barely walk and needed urgent surgery?

Franco hissed as I propelled him faster. “There’s a plan in motion. It’s not just us. So you don’t have to panic.”

My heart raced. Q—hold on. “What plan?”

“We had a discussion after Q rescued you. We knew the likelihood of them coming for him was high, so we had a system put in place. It’s already started.” Franco looked at his watch. “I’d say about twenty-five minutes ago—the moment they barged into my room and beat the f**k out of me.”

My body grew hot then cold, roasting then frigid. I wanted to split myself into an army of people and scour Italy for Q. I wanted to know what plan was in effect.

He can’t die. I won’t let him.

The elevator up ahead pinged, delivering its cargo like a tsunami of weapons and badges. Franco and I slammed to a stop.

“What the—” he muttered as a hoard of policemen all in smart black uniforms and silver brocade rushed toward us.

We stood like an island as a sea of police officers darted past, disappearing into the room we’d just vacated. I blinked. Was this part of the plan? Enlisting the local force to help us track Q?

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. If they were here to help then great…but if they weren’t…

Franco tensed, pushing me away to stand on his own two feet. His jaw ticked as he shoved his bloody, thumb-missing hand into his pocket.

A detective with slicked black hair and greying temples climbed off the lift, coming toward us. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay, sir? Ma’am?”

My heart latched itself to my voice box; I squeaked some stupid reply. My instincts were prickling, warning. I didn’t like him. I didn’t like this. Which was ridiculous as they were the law. We’d done nothing wrong—we were the victims. So why did I suddenly feel like a criminal?

The detective’s gaze fell on Franco, taking in his bloody clothing and protective stance. “What happened here tonight?”

Franco glowered. “Nothing. What are you doing here?”

The officer scowled. “We don’t have to explain our presence to you. Especially when it looks as if we’ve come to a scene of a serious crime.” His eyes pierced mine, looking me up and down.

I was aware of how I must look: white face, smudged mascara, and a jitter that looked as if I was high and needing my next fix. How could I explain the adrenaline in my system was from watching my lover be shot and marched away?

“Ma’am. Did this man hurt you?” His hand fell to his holstered weapon.

“What? No!” I leapt in front of Franco. “Not at all. Look we—”

“Tess—shut up.” Franco yanked me back by my jeans loop. Looking at the officer, he snapped, “You’re interfering. This is a private undercover operation. Now, let us pass.”

The officer’s eyebrow rose; his chest puffed out, swelling with testosterone. “You’re not going anywhere until I determine what occurred here tonight.” Taking out a notepad from his breast pocket, he scanned his notes. “Do you know anything about an indecent exposure incident that happened about thirty minutes ago? A passer-by said they saw a disturbance in one of the suites on this floor.” His eyes zeroed in on Franco. “According to witnesses, a woman whose face was covered was forced against the glass while an unseen male had intercourse with her. That wouldn’t be you, would it?”