Free INCEPTIO (Roma Nova) by Alison Morton

‘Relax your shoulders.’ He narrowed his eyes, searching over my shoulder for anybody watching us. ‘Difficult, I know, but we have to appear ordinary and casual.’
    I couldn’t see a single person anywhere, but I knew we had to be very careful. I had already crossed into a shadow world. This was merely a part of it. He pulled a cloth out of a picnic basket, followed by acrylic glasses, a bottle of wine, plates and food. He sat down on the grass close beside me so we looked like any other couple.
    ‘Thank the gods you’re not hurt. I’m sorry if you thought I’d deserted you. They took me when I was buying breakfast. I had to get the legation to spring me.’
    I told him about O’Keefe.
    ‘They’re really piling on the pressure now.’ He looked down and played with a blade of grass. ‘One of those who visited your boss, a brutal bastard called Renschman, warned me that if I came within a hundred yards of you, or contacted you in any way, he’d arrange a fatal accident.’ He snorted. ‘He can’t terminate me; he knows the legation is aware and we’d retaliate hard.’ He turned to me. ‘But you’re not safe. He said he’d put you away, and I think he could.’
    After that frightening business with O’Keefe, I had no doubt.
    ‘The safest thing would be if I kept away from you.’ He looked across the pool. His Adam’s apple bounced hard.
    ‘Would they keep their word?’
    He shrugged. ‘Who knows?
    ‘No.’
    ‘Karen—’
    ‘No. Nonna would send somebody else. It wouldn’t change a thing.’
    He stretched his arm up to stroke my hair, and his polo shirt lifted to show a huge bruise.
    ‘What the hell is that?’
    ‘A little souvenir from Renschman. Diplomatic immunity isn’t part of his personal vocabulary, it seems.’
    ‘Jesus. Who is this guy?’
    ‘Probably black ops, CIA or similar. But whatever he is, he’s a nasty piece of work. I don’t want him anywhere near you.’ He looked into the distance. The back of his fingers caressed my cheek as he brought his gaze back on me.
    ‘If I don’t leave, he’ll keep after you. But I can’t abandon you without any protection.’ He stood up and walked to the pool edge, crossed his arms and stared down at the water. He didn’t move or say anything for several minutes. The cords in his neck were taut, highlighted by the shadows forced by the bright sun.
    ‘There’s another choice. You’d be completely safe, they couldn’t get near you, let alone touch you, but it would be the most disruptive thing that’s ever happened to you.’ His voice was low, sad, as if regretting the passing of something. The soft rippling of the water and staccato of chirruping birds continued, but my world stopped as if we were held in stasis.
    I was so absorbed with trying to figure out what Conrad meant that I was totally unaware of anybody approaching us. Too late, Conrad started to twist around. A man jabbed a barrel right under his jawline.
    ‘On the ground, hands behind you.’
    A second man drove his fist into Conrad’s stomach and slammed him down, another kneeling on him, handcuffing his hands behind him. I recognised the third one: he was one of the watchers. No. Not again.
    He seized my arm and forced me up. I kicked him hard in the shins. His grip eased; I flailed him with my fists, aiming at his eyes and the bridge of his nose. I landed a punch on his cheekbone and nearly succeeded in pulling away, but another man lunged at me, crushing our picnic underfoot, and grabbed my other arm, twisting it up behind my back and forcing me to bend over. They dragged us through the trees, out through the Kew Road West entrance, and thrust me into the back of a waiting car. They opened the trunk, flung Conrad in and slammed it down.
    ‘No! No!’ I cried and launched myself at the rear door. ‘What are you doing? You’ll kill him.’
    The dark-haired one snorted, but didn’t say anything. He shoved me back on the seat. Again. It was happening again. Both big