Page 114 of Roguefinder

“Oui.”

“Then get us out of here.”

Emile pulled away from the curb. A fire truck screamed up to the opera house.

I looked at Caleb. “Click it or ticket.”

“Are you serious right now?” He stared at me. I stared back.

He scowled and reached for his seatbelt. “Unbelievable.”

Emile pulled out his phone. Stefanos answered before he’d pressed it to his ear.

“You have Jesse and Caleb?” He sounded anxious. Not an emotion I associated with the Greek elder.

“Oui,” Emile said. “And we have a great deal to tell you.”

Chapter

Twenty-Four

CALEB

Four hours later, Jesse and Emile sat at the kitchen table while I made sandwiches.

Or attempted to. I knew my way around a kitchen like I knew my way around the Colosseum. Like, I’d been in it. Kicked the tires and stuff. But I wasn’t going to start giving tours or anything.

I needed something to do with my hands so I didn’t think about the fact that Jesse was missing one of his.

The second time I cut into a tomato, he half-rose from his chair. “Do you need help?”

I pointed my knife at him. “If your butt leaves that chair, I’ll slice you open like this tomato.”

He sat. “Inefficiently, then.”

Emile chuckled.

I trained the knife on him. He sipped his coffee.

“You’re going to cut the tips of your fingers,” Jesse said.

“You’re missing a hand.” He’d talked me through a field dressing in the bathroom upstairs, and now the stump was wrapped in white gauze and secured with medical tape.

“It’ll grow back,” he said mildly.

I layered tomato slices on a row of bread. “It can grow back while you sit there and don’t try to get up again.”

Emile gave Jesse a smug smile.

“You don’t have to stay in Rome, you know,” Jesse told him. “You can probably return to London.”

Emile sat back in his chair. “Mais non. I’m enjoying this.”

“That makes one of us,” I muttered.

Emile looked at Jesse. “Do you have any cigarettes?”

“No,” I said.