CAPRI HEAT

  By Ashe Barker

  Text copyright © 2018 Ashe Barker

  All Rights Reserved

  With thanks to Karen and April, my fabulous beta readers who make all my stories so much better

  And to Emmy Ellis, at www.studioenp - my wonderful editor and cover artist

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  From the Author

  About the Author

  Also by Ashe Barker

  Chapter One

  “Fuck, that hurts.”

  With a pained grimace, Lee eyed the tree-lined driveway which snaked ahead of her. She didn’t think her ankle was broken. If it was, she wouldn’t be able to walk on it at all, right? Not that this awkward, agonising hobble could really pass for walking, but at least she was upright and mobile, after a fashion. It was a sprain. A bad one, she knew that, but a sprain all the same, so she should be able to manage.

  It would help if she knew how much farther she had to go before she reached some sort of civilisation. A road, a house, anything. Anywhere with a phone so she could call for a taxi. No, scratch that. No taxi. She needed the police.

  Lee grabbed the trunk of the closest tree and concentrated on drawing in several steadying breaths as she hung on to the rough bark for a couple of minutes, her throbbing foot raised. The agony slowly eased. Not much. Barely at all, really, but she’d take what she could get. She put her weight back on the injured ankle and launched herself away from the tree. Three lurching, excruciating steps farther, and she resorted to hopping until she arrived within grabbing distance of the closest obliging trunk.

  She repeated the pattern for the next hundred metres or so, stopping every few paces to lean on a tree and recover. Her injury was getting worse, definitely. Her left ankle was hideously swollen already and turning all shades of purple before her very eyes. She wondered if she’d be more comfortable without her shoe but rejected that notion. The gravel underfoot was scorching hot in the mid-afternoon Mediterranean sun, and she just knew that once she took that sandal off it would never go back on again. She sighed in relief when she limped around a slight bend and spotted a fallen tree. It wasn’t too far, maybe twenty metres or so. She could manage that, and if nothing else it offered her somewhere to sit down for a while.

  Surely someone would come along, eventually, and she could get help. Not that any traffic had passed her so far, and she estimated she’d been staggering along for an hour, maybe more. Still, she could but hope…

  Painfully, she stumbled on until she could sink onto the rough but accommodating tree trunk. She preferred not to dwell upon the many and varied species of wildlife she probably shared her refuge with and hoped there were no spiders. At least, not the poisonous, biting sort.

  From her temporary vantage point on the log, Lee glanced up and down the wooded lane. Her ears were alert for the sound of an engine, voices, footsteps—anything to suggest help might be at hand, though she wasn’t sure how well she’d be able to explain her predicament. Her Italian was sketchy at best, and she didn’t get the impression that English was widely spoken on Capri, outside of the tourist haunts in the main town itself. Whatever, she’d get by. She had to.

  Ten minutes passed, stretched to twenty, to half an hour, and still no sign of life. She had no choice, she’d have to try walking again. If she was going to find help it would be under her own steam. Lee braced her hands on the log ready to shove herself upright when she heard it. The low purr of the engine was barely discernible at first but grew louder. A car was approaching.

  She panicked momentarily. What if it was him? The vile, lecherous taxi driver who had picked her up in Capri town and nodded amiably when she’d asked to be driven to her leased holiday villa about ten kilometres away on the southern coast of the island. Lee had only been on the island a couple of days. She lacked local knowledge but quickly enough realised the roads they were hurtling along were unfamiliar. Her driver was going in the wrong direction. She’d leaned forward in her seat and tried to tell him so. He’d merely leered at her over his shoulder and drove faster.

  At first, she was angry, demanding that he turn around at once or stop and let her out. He did neither, and her temper gave way to mounting panic as the surrounding terrain became wilder, lonelier. This was no accident. The driver hadn’t taken the wrong route by mistake. She was being abducted, but for what purpose she barely dared think.

  Without saying a word to his distraught passenger, the driver had turned off the public road and into this thickly forested area which now surrounded her. He’d pulled up beside a clearing and got out of the car. His intentions became obvious when he undid the fastener on his shabby trousers and started to unbuckle his belt. Faced with this crisis, Lee had discovered a strength born out of sheer desperation and soul-deep terror. She tried to open the door on the side farthest from the driver, but it was locked. Her would-be assailant grinned at her, his smile lascivious. He was all but drooling.

  But this was Capri, not the chilly streets of Edinburgh. Here, cars were invariably open-topped to benefit from the sunshine and ventilation, and taxis were no exception. She hurled herself over the door and landed on all fours in the dusty undergrowth. The man uttered something unintelligible, but Lee wasn’t hanging around to talk to him. She scrambled to her feet and she ran.

  He pursued her. She made straight for the thickest part of the forest hoping to be able to hide among the trees. His crashing, lumbering footsteps were near deafening as he charged after her, his breathing heavy and laboured.

  His pursuit might have been lust-fuelled, but Lee had blind terror on her side as well as a nimbler, more athletic build. The contest was unequal. He was never going to catch her. At least, he wasn’t until she fell.

  Lee never saw the exposed root that brought her hurtling to the ground, but she felt it. Her ankle twisted at an impossible angle, and pain seared through her limb. She lay facedown, sprawling among last year’s fallen leaves, gasping, but only for a few moments. He was still after her, still stomping about in the trees just yards from where she lay. As quietly as she could, Lee dragged herself farther into the undergrowth and forced herself to remain motionless. She actually saw his booted feet pass within three feet of her as she huddled trembling in the musty brambles, barely daring to breathe.

  He passed, shambled on for a few more paces, then abandoned his quest. Lee waited, stayed hidden until he went by her again on his way back to his car. He was panting from the exertion, muttering to himself in Italian and obviously less than delighted with the way in which his plans had been derailed.

  Lee waited until she heard the growl of the diesel engine fade into the distance before she allowed herself to truly believe he had gone. She was safe, more or less. Unless you counted a wrenched ankle and the fact that her bag was still in the back of that taxi. She’d never given her belongings a thought when she’d made her desperate run for it, but the bag contained her wallet, over two hundred Euros in cash, credit cards, her phone, and most serious of all, her passport.

  Still, first things first. She was in one piece, and that was the main thing. The rest could be replaced. Lee crawled from her hiding place and staggered to her feet. She decided to continue on the way she had been going in her headlong flight through the trees because that was the opposite direction from that taken by her attacker.

  At first her ankle was uncomfortable, but the pain was bearable. She stumbled for perhaps a mile or so before arriving at the gravelled driveway she now regarded with near loathing. Faced with the simple choice of left or right, she opted to go to the right. That had been at least an hour ago, and as far as she could tell she was no nearer to finding help.

  In any case, who would help her? Who could she trust? For all she knew, that driver might have had accomplices. Maybe the local drivers did this sort of thing all the time, though she hadn’t heard of it. That didn’t prove anything, though. She wouldn’t be just thumbing a lift from some passing stranger. She’d learnt her lesson about that the hard way.

  The engine noise grew louder. Perhaps if the driver of the car now approaching was a woman, that might be safe enough. Or even better, the police, though she knew that was a long shot.

  The vehicle came into sight, a long, low Italian convertible with the top down. As it drew closer, she recognised the car as a Maserati, it’s sleek lines and sophisticated profile elegantly set off by the sensual crimson paintwork. It gleamed under the hot sun, exuding an aura of wealth and luxury. She was bitterly disappointed to note that the sole occupant was most decidedly not a woman.

  The car slowed as it approached and rolled to a stop right in front of where she sat. The driver swivelled his head to regard her with an expression she could only describe as distaste. He wore dark, opaque sunglasses, so she was unable to see his eyes, but Lee would estimate him to be perhaps thirty years old and most definitely Italian. His Latin good looks were little short of breathtaking, and at any other time she would have appreciated his masculine beauty rather better. Near enough black hair reached the open collar of his pristine white sports shirt, his complexion was tanned, his shoulders b
road from what she could see. His long fingers drummed on the leather which covered the steering wheel as he took in Lee’s dishevelled appearance.

  She shaded her eyes with her hand and collected together in her head the few useful words she had of Italian. Lee opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

  “Stai sconfinando.”

  His tone was terse, the words abrupt and well outside her woefully limited vocabulary. Lee had no idea what he was saying but could tell it wasn’t friendly.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand…” she began.

  One dark eyebrow lifted. “English?”

  Lee nodded. “Yes, and I wonder if—”

  “You are trespassing. This is private property.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realise. I was just—”

  “The public road is that way, perhaps four kilometres.” He waved an arm to point back the way she had come.

  Shit. Lee’s heart sank. She’d been hobbling in the wrong direction for the last hour. If she’d turned left when she’d first emerged from the cover of the trees she might even have been safely talking to the local polizia by now.

  “I see. Right.” She squinted at him under her fingers. “I wonder, do you have a phone I could use?”

  “I beg your pardon.” Despite the near forty-degree temperature, his tone was positively arctic.

  “It… I was just—”

  “You should start to make your way back to the road, signorina. It will be dark in an hour.” His tone had softened, though only slightly. He offered Lee one last nod, and the car purred into life again.

  “No, wait! Please…”

  It was no good. He was leaving. The Masarati glided away and within moments had disappeared around the next bend.

  Lee wasn’t sure if she had time to give in to the urge to cry. On balance, she decided not. She had an hour’s daylight left and knew full well she couldn’t reach the main road in that time, but every little bit of progress would help. At least she’d be going in the right direction. With one final, baleful glare after the Maserati, she struggled to her feet again and started to walk.

  She barely completed half a dozen excruciating steps before she heard the distinctive hum of the Maserati behind her. She paused, turned to look as the crimson beast pulled up alongside. This time the man at the wheel had removed his sunglasses. He eyed her swollen, discoloured ankle, appeared to wince slightly, then leaned across to open the passenger door of his car.

  “What are you doing?” Lee backed away, scared now. “I’m not coming with you.”

  “I believe that you have no choice, signorina.”

  “No, I—”

  “You need help, do you not?”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  “I am that help.”

  “Leave me alone. Please…”

  He opened his own door and slid from the car to stand in front of her. He was at least a head taller than Lee, over six feet, and although he was casually dressed, his clothing looked expensive and fitted him to perfection. Indeed, everything about this man was sheer perfection, but Lee remained cautious, apprehensive. She didn’t know him, knew nothing about him. Awkwardly, she turned, managed a couple more halting, jerky steps before he caught up with her again, this time sliding his arm around her waist to support her weight.

  Lee started to struggle but succeeded in losing her footing when her injured ankle gave way. She didn’t crumple to the ground, though. Instead, she found herself swept up in his arms. He spun on his heel and carried her back to his car.

  “Please, let me go, I don’t want to go with you.” Lee was close to tears, her voice catching as she pleaded with this stranger.

  He placed her in the passenger seat but didn’t close the door. Instead, he crouched beside her and captured her frantic gaze with his. He had the most compelling chocolate-brown eyes, she noted, warm, sensual, and she no longer felt quite so threatened by him.

  “Very well, signorina. If you do not wish to come with me, you shall not. But it is obvious to me that you cannot walk, and I cannot in good conscience leave you here.”

  “I’ll be all right,” she insisted. “Someone will come.”

  He shook his head. “This is private property, as I already informed you. No one will come. My home is half a kilometre that way, and you are welcome to rest there until transport can be arranged to take you back to your hotel. You are a tourist on our island, I assume?”

  Lee nodded.

  “Or, if you prefer, we will remain here, and I shall telephone for a taxi to convey you to wherever you are staying.” He produced a mobile phone from the pocket of his dark denim jeans and started to fire it up.

  “No!” Lee blurted the refusal, sick with dread at the prospect of once more being at the mercy of some unknown driver. Worse, what if her previous assailant came back for her? “No, no taxi. Please.”

  “Very well.” The man straightened. “May I introduce myself. My name is Raffaele Sabbatini. As I have already mentioned, this is my property, and my home is not far from here. And you are?”

  “Lee Gallagher.”

  He extended his hand. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Gallagher. From England, yes?”

  “Originally. Now I live in Scotland,” Lee replied. “Edinburgh.”

  “Ah, yes. An elegant city. I visited there once.” He leaned one hip against the gleaming bonnet of his car. “So, no taxi. Shall I perhaps summon an ambulance, then?”

  “No. I mean, I’m not sure. Could you…could you phone the police?”

  “Police?” His tone sharpened. “Why?”

  “I… I was attacked.”

  Raffaele Sabbatini let out an impressive stream of Italian, much of which Lee assumed to be best not translated. He returned his attention to her, his phone back in his hand. “Were you injured in any other way, Miss Gallagher?” His meaning was clear.

  Lee shook her head, tears now flowing freely when she recalled how close she had come to being raped, or worse. She was vaguely aware of her rescuer firing words into his phone, but his speech was so rapid she had no clue what he said. He returned the phone to his pocket then marched around to the driver’s door.

  “The police are on their way. They will be here within minutes. I will take you to my house now, and we shall meet them there. This is all right, yes?”

  Her previous objections shelved in the face of his obvious concern, Lee managed to nod and accepted the box of tissues her rescuer produced from his glove box. She sniffled and started to sob—huge, gulping sobs now that shock had begun to set in. But she no longer feared Raffaele Sabbatini. There was something about him that inspired confidence. She could trust him.

  Frankly, she had no choice.

  It seemed mere moments after Raffaele turned the Maserati around in the narrow road and started back in the direction of his home that they rounded another bend and the forest fell away they reached the rocky coast. The house came into view, except it wasn’t a house. It was a mansion or whatever the equivalent might be here on Capri. Elegant white walls nestled into the surrounding scenery, the expansive, graceful villa was as stunning as its owner. A terraced façade with several balconies overlooked the turquoise sea. Raffaele drove around to the front and pulled up at the foot of a flight of pale steps which led to the main door. He exited the vehicle and hurried around to open Lee’s door, then scooped her up in his arms again.

  “There’s no need, I can walk…”

  “No, Miss Gallagher, you cannot. Allow me.”

  The door flew open before he reached it. A woman of perhaps fifty or fifty-five stared at them, her eyes wide as Raffaele rushed past, still carrying Lee.

  “Cos’è successo? C’è stato un incidente?”

  Raffaele answered in his barely accented and quite perfect English. “No, Mamma. Not an accident. This young lady has been attacked.”

  “Oh mio Dio!” Raffaele carried Lee across an expanse of gleaming terracotta floor tiles, and the woman hurried after them. “Where has this dreadful thing occurred? Who did this?”

  “I do not know yet. The police will be here soon. Could you call Emilio, please? Our guest needs medical attention.” He shouldered open the door to a lounge area and set Lee down on a white leather sofa, taking care to lift her injured ankle up onto the cushion.