Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
It was crowded with booths, some covered with red shade umbrellas, and smoke wafted from grills in others. An older woman with a handkerchief on her head and a blanket thrown over her shoulders tried to interest me in a variety of fabric bolts on her table, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me deeper into the rows of stalls.
It was aisle after aisle of produce, bags, jewelry. One of the booths played Russian rap music from a radio and earned an annoyed look from the older man in the next stand over. We paused at a table where Ryan examined some mushrooms, but my gaze drifted away while he chatted with the vendor in Croatian.
Halfway across the square, a young guy in dark clothes waved in my direction. I looked behind me, but no one seemed to be waving back to this man. When I turned to face him, I pointed to myself, “Me?”
He nodded aggressively. Then raised a camera with a large lens to snap pictures.
“Do I know that man with the camera?” I asked.
Ryan’s head snapped up, his face instantly angry.
“Plavko,” he yelled, but this wasn’t to the cameraman. It was to a tall, serious-looking man lurking near us whom I hadn’t noticed before. Everything about this intense man, including his furious eyes, screamed he was someone you did not want to mess with. He barreled through the crowd.
The cameraman took one look at the tall man charging toward him and fled.
“What was that?” I got it out just as Ryan took off and dragged me the opposite direction.
The woman at the stand yelled for us to come back, but there was no chance of that. I stumbled over the uneven cobblestones, trying to keep up. We bumped into people as we went, and I kept apologizing, unsure if they understood my English.
“Ryan.” My head pounded and the pain quickly became excruciating. “Slow down.”
We turned a corner, disappearing from the square, and he pushed me down a quiet alley. I leaned against the brick to catch my breath, and he threw his arms up around me, closing me in. My head hurt so badly I could barely stand.
“Are you all right?” His dark eyes were full of panic as he searched mine.
“Why are we running? Who was that man?”
He considered if he should answer then hung his head. His chest rose and fell quickly, and I wondered if his heart was beating as fast as mine. “He’s most likely an investigator. If Plavko doesn’t catch him, those pictures go out and they’ll know we’re here.”
Dread slipped inside me. “They?”
“Your ex had some powerful friends, and they’re looking for us.”
I took a slow, deliberate breath to try to reduce the ache in my head, and I was too concerned with that to stop him. Ryan leaned in and captured my lips with his.
His kiss was desperate. It burned in an unsettling way, and there was so much intensity behind it, it gave me the feeling he’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment. When I tried to turn my head, he grasped my chin and prevented it.
His tongue was invasive, and I moaned with discomfort, which he must have misinterpreted as pleasure because he tried to deepen the kiss. Even though it was agonizing to move, I shifted my entire body away and was able to break free. I glared at him with disbelief, panting through the pain throbbing in my head.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, although he didn’t look sorry. “I couldn’t help myself. And I figured it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.”
I pressed my lips together, leashing my irritation. He raised an eyebrow as he studied my face and considered something.
“Am I allowed to do that again?” he asked.
I wanted to say no, but the word wouldn’t form, and there was a voice in my head, whispering something I couldn’t make out. He waited expectantly for my answer, and I had no choice but to choke it out. “I . . . guess.”
His smile was devilish.
“Maybe,” I added between labored breaths, “warn me next time.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
One breath at a time, my heart rate began to slow, and the pain lessened until I could focus. The ground felt more stable beneath my feet.
He could tell, because he straightened, glanced around the alley, and gave me another evaluating look. “Can you walk? We need to get out of here.”
Once we were seated in the car, his phone rang and he spoke in Croatian to whom I assumed was Plavko. He was more focused on the conversation than navigating the narrow streets, but he managed to get us out of the city in one piece.
“He smashed the camera, but the guy may have uploaded the pictures already.”
“What does that mean?” I wasn’t sure what level of fear I should be feeling.