She turned to see Pitt rushing toward her, wildly waving the shredded cape. The bull took one look at the tall, bounding man with the bright magenta cape—and bit.

Ann felt the heat from the beast’s breath as it veered away from her at the last second and chased after Pitt.

He skidded in the dirt as the bull overtook him. Extending the cape to his side, he shook the material like a dusty rug, drawing the bull’s eye. Donatello followed the movement. He burst into and through the cape, his sharp horns skimming just millimeters past Pitt’s body.

Pitt yanked the cape upward as the bull tore through, then spun to face the animal. He was too engrossed in self-preservation to hear the applause and chants of Olé that poured from the crowd. He shook the cape, then stepped aside as the bull charged once more.

“Allow me, señor,” the matador said, rushing up with an embarrassed look.

With the aid of a banderillero, the matador drove the bull to the center of the ring while two other men dragged away the driver’s body.

Pitt turned to approach Ann, only to see her hoisted into the stands by Giordino. He stepped closer and grasped Giordino’s outstretched left hand. To the thunderous applause of the crowd, Pitt climbed over the wall. A pale and shaken Ann grabbed him by the arm. “That bull would have mauled me if you hadn’t stepped in. It was a crazy thing to do, but thank you.”

Pitt gave her a tired grin. “You forget that I work in Washington. I’m fighting bull all the time.”

Then his face grew serious, and he gazed around them. “Your abductor, Pablo?”

Ann shook her head. Giordino was already scanning the crowds, but he too came up empty.

The big man had made himself small in the crowd and disappeared.

Chapter 20

20

I’M THINKING WE REALLY SHOULDN’T LOLLYGAG TO chat with the authorities,” Giordino said. He tilted his head toward a bullring official who was making his way across the stadium with two security guards.

“Lead on,” Pitt said, and cinched his arm tight around Ann’s waist.

She took a hesitant step with her injured leg, then grasped Pitt’s shoulder for support as a burst of pain bolted through her ankle.

“Just put your weight on the good leg, and we’ll get there,” Pitt said. He easily supported her one-hundred-and-ten-pound frame.

Giordino charged through the crowd like a snowplow, clearing a path for the hobbling duo following close behind. They found the rear exit ramp and hustled out of the stadium, to the crowd’s fading cheers. Unable to draw close, the bullring authorities could only watch in puzzlement as the three Americans jumped into a taxi and roared off into the night.