Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
He didn’t have to show me the line scrawled in my writing for me to know what he was talking about.
“It’s not relevant,” I answered quickly, heat crawling up my neck.
The asterisk was beside the name Nathan on the flight down to South Africa. The curiosity intensified on his face. He wasn’t going to let it go.
“I thought you were interesting, all right?” I said. “I put that asterisk there so I would remember Nathan, the freakishly tall American who said he was dangerous.”
Fletcher’s chuckle rumbled from across the aisle, but it seemed to go unnoticed by Ethan. He blinked away his stunned look, and his gaze fell to the star beside his name. What was he thinking about?
Slowly, he shut the log and slipped it back into his bag, a hint of a smile on his lips.
The men had spent most of the flight discussing something in German, and we parted ways with the Englishman at the airport. Ethan hadn’t said much on the thirty-minute limo ride. He used most of his time on his phone, reading and tapping out messages.
A security guard in the lobby escorted us up the private elevator and to the front door of Shawn Dunn’s Munich penthouse. As soon as Ethan punched in a code on the keypad and the door swung open, the guard nodded his farewell.
My heart was in my throat as we moved inside.
The entryway led into an open, modern kitchen and sitting area, decorated with lavish furniture. Every inch boasted of expense and taste. The back wall was all windows, displaying a breathtaking view of downtown and the billowing smokestack of a factory off in the distance. The Osterhägen logo gleamed in white lettering.
I recognized the woman in several of the photos that cycled through the digital picture frame on the counter. Kara Hayward. It was odd, the idea that I’d meet her. We had more in common besides Ethan, and I wondered if Ms. Hayward had the same disdain for media attention that I did.
The next picture in the slideshow was captivating. A brute of a man, a police badge slung around his neck and over a bulletproof vest, standing beside a younger woman, who wore a glittering white ballet costume. The juxtaposition of masculine and feminine was fascinating, but Ethan’s shoulders tensed at the image.
“You know them?”
“Shawn’s brother, Jason. And the woman, her name is Laurel.” It advanced to a picture of that same couple in a garden, wearing wedding attire. “I haven’t seen her look like that . . . in a while.”
Outside, the sun was setting, and it allowed exhaustion to sneak up on me. Even though I usually didn’t need much sleep, the past few days had been anything but normal, and the long nap this morning hadn’t recharged me.
So I remained standing, rather than sink onto the couch beneath a gorgeous black and white framed picture of the Osterhägen brewery. The last thing I wanted to do right now was accidentally drift off.
The front door swung open, and a woman stepped in. She set her purse on the entryway table, took off her coat, and hung it in the closet. Kara Hayward was shockingly tall, perched on top of heels and dressed in a beautifully cut navy business suit. She moved leisurely, not calling out or looking for us. It was as if she didn’t know anyone was there.
My suspicions were confirmed when she strolled toward the kitchen, discovered me standing there, and froze in place. Fear flooded her expression as she stared at me, the unannounced stranger who lurked in her home.
Then Ethan stepped into view and her pale blue eyes filled with shock. “Ethan?”
“Kara,” he said. “How are you?”
She peered up at him like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. But she blinked it away and smoothed her palms down the sides of her skirt. “Good,” she said. “Much better than the last time we saw each other. And you?”
His tone was steady, revealing nothing. “I’m all right.”
She brushed back a lock of hair as if she could push away the bad memory just as easily. “I never got a chance to say it, you know. Thank you. Thank you for helping us.”
He shifted as if uncomfortable. “You don’t need to thank me.”
Her pretty face took on a dubious cast. “You saved my life. You saved Laurel’s life.” She reached out and set her hands on the counter, perhaps bracing herself. “Has something happened?”
“Did Shawn not tell you we were coming?”
She pulled out her phone, took one look at her screen, and her face fell. “Scheiße. I have seven missed calls.” She lifted her embarrassed gaze to him. “My phone’s on silent.”
“That’s okay,” Ethan said, gesturing to me. “This is Olivia. We’ve run into some trouble, and Shawn and Jason offered to help. She needs a place to stay and lay low for a few weeks. But things have—”