If anyone felt like a fish out of water, nobody said anything. Only Jerome looked like he should be there. The other four wore dusty clothes, but all five had the same expressions.
His man at the port filled them in. There was no time to wait, to gather more evidence. Franco had ragged Izzy through the streets, loudly announcing to the world that he was going to marry her. Their ship had been slowed, and had beaten theirs by only hours, but time was still wasting.
In the coach ride to Rome nobody spoke. Fingers danced on top of guns, grim eyes scanned the area, not for the culture, but for threats.
Some strange foreign part of Kate wanted to hold Rafe's hand, but she did not in front of her friends. Back in her jeans and vest, breasts bound, hair tucked up, she wanted to feel every inch the Kid once more but too much had changed her.
Still this was not her fight, not Rafe's, not even Dan's or Finn's. This was Jerome's, and they were there for backup.
They pulled into Rome and it was a city like any other, crowded and dirty, but they saw the last vestiges of history and Kate's eyes widened. At long last she took Rafe's hand and he gave her a squeeze.
"So we kill him and grab Isabelle, then run like hell, right?" Finn asked softly.
"I kill him, I grab her, we all run like hell. Anybody gets in my way, shoot 'em," Jerome growled, a man on the edge. He gripped his rifle like it was a lifeline, and everyone nodded. "They'll be looking for us at the ports. We meet at the coach as planned. Dan, stay with it and guard it. Rafe, Kate, Finn, you know what to do."
And so they ignored centuries of stories, places, and people, as they rumbled to the impressive office building of Bellaforte Shipping & Co. The street it was on was too narrow to fit more than three people on foot across so they left Dan, the driver, and the coach on the nearest avenue.
Kate would have liked more of a plan, but Jerome kicked in the door and a guard drew a pistol. Rafe shot him with blinding speed that made Kate smile, and they were in.
It was all stark white plaster and marble, the same styling Izzy had given the Rockport, and Kate smiled when it sunk in. "Up the stairs and right at the top, the offices we want are that way."
Finn came up beside her. "I thought it looked familiar."
"Hurry up," Rafe whispered, scanning for more guards.
On the stairs were three, Jerome knocked one out and Kate and Finn shot the others. Finn's shot was a mortal wound while as Kate still could not bring herself to take a life. These men had the look of hired help, matching gold-braided trimmed uniforms, and she didn't want to kill a an just doing his job.
At the top six more waited. In the volley of shots Kate and Rafe each got one, and that bought them time to duck into doorways. Jerome ended up with Kate.
"We'll hold 'em off here, if you go out the window that ledge is wide enough. Take it to the last window."
"Are you sure?"
"I'd stake my life on it. Go on now, get yer woman." She grinned at him over the sound of gunfire but all Jerome did was grimly nod back.
With a Lakota war whoop, Kate turned back into the fray.
***
Jerome balanced himself carefully, but with his broad frame it was no easy trick. He let the rifle dangle over the edge, hanging twenty feet above the tiny Roman street. The sound of gunshots had people out, the more foolhardy, the residents wee closing up their shutters.
He couldn't stop to think of police, of the neighbors, of anything right now but Izzy. He remembered her stories of Franco breathing down her neck, groping her lewdly, chasing her away from her native country into the wild west of America. That lewd beast had her now, and if his threats on the pier had been observed correctly they could very well be locked in with a preacher.
He saw red and moved quickly along the ledge, mindless to it all but seeing his love safe. At long last the final window was in reach. Stopping and steadying himself with a breath, Jerome peaked through and saw Izzy tied to a chair. All else of the room he could see was empty.
The window was locked, so Jerome anchored his foot on some trim, raised the rifle, and used the butt of it to crash in a pane. Following through with his body he broke the trim around the panes which hurt like hell, the hit the hard marble floor with his shoulder, rolled over the rug, and came to his feet.
"Jerome, behind you!" Izzy cried and he didn't even look, just tipped the rifle back and pulled the trigger. A satisfying thump sounded and he dropped the rifle, kneeling beside her chair.
"Jerome, I'm so glad you're here!"
He gripped the back of her head and kissed her, long and hard. Pulling back he looked into her big brown eyes and tear-stained face. "Did he touch you, hurt you in any way?"
Her plush lower lip trembled. "He slapped me, several times. He groped me but- the c-captain would never leave us alone. Thank God for that."
He hugged her close, muscles bunched and tight. "He dies."
The knots on the rope were complicated enough he drew the knife Kate had forced him to buy out west. It cut through the ropes just fine and he barely tossed it aside before Izzy launched herself into his arms.
"Cara mia, ti voglio bene," Isabelle chanted in her native tounge over and over between kisses.
"Isn't this touching?" A deep voice drawled in accented English.
From the shadows be the door Franco Bellaforte emerged. Jerome stuffed his beloved behind him and glanced nervously at the rifle several feet away. In Franco's hand was a delicate pistol, one that would be laughable in the west, but close enough could do enough damage. Behind him in the hallway shots still rang out, below on the street people shouted, but for a moment, time froze.
