Chapter One: Code Name: Michelangelo

CODE NAME: MICHELANGELO

Art, Love, and Danger Collide
A Forger’s Redemption, A Gallery Owner’s Peril
Can Their Love Survive the Mafia’s Masterpiece?

MICHELANGELO

I thought I’d left my life of crime behind, but now I’m diving back into the dangerous world of art forgery and organized crime. This time, I’m on the right side of the law, working undercover to take down the Italian mafia. But when I reconnect with Penelope, the woman I’ve loved since I was a teenager, everything changes. Can I balance my dangerous mission with the future I’ve always dreamed of? And when Penelope is suddenly thrust into danger because of me, will I be able to save her—and our love—before it’s too late?

PENELOPE

Running an art gallery was supposed to be my dream job, until forged paintings threatened to ruin everything. Then Michelangelo walked back into my life, awakening feelings I’d tried to forget. As we fall in love, I discover he’s involved in a perilous undercover mission. I thought the biggest risk was giving my heart to him, but when I’m kidnapped by the very criminals he’s investigating, I realize the danger is all too real. Will our love survive this ultimate test, or will the dark world Michelangelo inhabits tear us apart forever?

CHAPTER ONE

“Sir, you cannot go behind security lines,” a woman with a heavy Italian accent said.

“He’s with me,” said Maximo De Rossi, my friend who was the head of the Italian Civil Aviation Authority.

“Mi dispiace signore,” the woman muttered, her gaze immediately downcast.

“What do you do to these women?” I said when we were a few paces away.

“I pleasure them. Just like you do. It’s been too long since you and I were out on the prowl.”

“Those days are over for me, my friend.”

“No! Do not tell me you’re in love.”

I nodded, not bothering to explain that the woman who’d captured my heart did it back when I was a teenager.

“Wait. Is that who you’re meeting?”

I smiled and nodded a second time. It had been several weeks since Penelope Ramsey, who I affectionately called Butterfly, and I were together, and I missed her like crazy.

On the other hand, I hadn’t expected to see her this soon. I’d been undercover since we parted on a mission for the United Nations Coalition Against Human Trafficking, and the people I’d infiltrated were among the dregs of humanity. But until I was able to move up in the organization—to the very top, if I could—I had to deal with the lowlifes.

When I heard from Nemesis, the coalition’s commander, that she’d arranged for Penelope to meet me in Florence, I was ecstatic, especially since it meant returning to the region that was part of my undercover persona. It was where the people who’d brought me into the crime syndicate believed I’d lived for several years.

I stopped and checked the arrival board and saw she was coming into gate eight. “Thanks again, Max,” I said, extending my hand to shake his.

“Oh no. I want to see this woman who’s taken away my wingman.”

I laughed. “It’s been a long time since our days in Milan.”

“Not so long for me,” he said with a wink.

“The plane is pulling up now,” I said, rushing over so when she exited the jetway, I’d be the first person she saw.

“Settle down, my friend,” Max said when passenger after passenger came out the door but not my Butterfly.

“She has to have flown first class. Why wasn’t she one of the first ones off the plane?” I said as much to myself as to him.

“Let me check.” Max walked over to the gate agent. Whatever he said made her immediately check her computer, then she shook her head.

“She wasn’t on the plane,” he reported.

“She had to have been.” I pulled out my mobile and checked the flight number and arrival time. I had the right one, so where was she?

When I rang Penelope and it went straight to voicemail, the second call I made was to Nemesis.

“Hey, Michelangelo. Got our girl?”

“Actually, I do not. She wasn’t on the flight.”

“What do you mean?”

“I checked with the gate agent, who said she never boarded.”

Max, who was standing next to me, nodded when our eyes met.

“Have you tried contacting her? Wait, sorry. That was a stupid question. It’s not an excuse, but I’ve been traveling all day, and my brain is mush. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll see what I can find out.”

When I received a text message a few minutes later, I expected it to be from her. It wasn’t.

As I read the words on the screen, sent from an unknown number, the blood in my veins turned ice cold.

I know who you are, and if you ever want to see your butterfly again, you’ll follow my instructions to the letter. Tell no one about this message, or she will die before sunrise.

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