CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I am cleaning my gun while thinking of the best way to get Everly safely back to America when she wakes up. She pushes her hair out of her face and looks at me. “What time is it?”
“Nearly 10:00 a.m.”
“Are we almost there?”
“Less than an hour. You slept through Paris.”
She frowns. “I would have liked to have seen the Eiffel Tower.”
Inspecting the chamber, I say, “Perhaps when this is over.”
“Maybe.” She shrugs, swings her legs over the mattress and stands up. I try not to stare at the way her breasts strain against the thin material of her shirt as she stretches. I try not to notice that her nipples are hard, or that the panties she’s wearing are barely scraps of lace sewn together.
But she notices me watching, and hurries to dress. “I’m hungry.”
“There is breakfast on the table.” I nod at the bag. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.”
She stops going through the bag to look at me. “Not just for this, but for saving me. Thank you.”
Uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation, I try to change the subject. “Ben will meet us for lunch at the hotel café.”
Walking to me, she squats in front of me. “I mean it, Roman. Thank you.”
Setting the now-clean gun beside me, I look her in the eye. “It is hard to be thanked for something that is my fault.”
A tender smile covers her face. She touches my cheek. “You could have left me.”
“I should have left you in Raleigh. The very first day I met you, I should have packed my things and left.”
“But you didn’t leave me then, and you still haven’t left me.”
“Because I’m the selfish fuck who got you caught up in this in the first place.” I hang my head.
Everly touches my chin, lifting it. “How can I help make it better?”
“When I give the word, I want you to run like hell for the U.S. embassy. Tell them you were kidnapped. That you escaped while I was meeting with a client, and you want to go home.”
Bewilderment shines in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s going on right now—it’s too dangerous for you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect you at all times. I can’t allow you to get hurt.”
“Then teach me how to protect myself,” she says, surprisingly undeterred by my reasons.
“I don’t have time.”
She kisses my lips. “I’m not asking for you to train me to be an assassin. I’m asking for the basics, like how to load and how to fire a gun. I know we don’t have time for major self-defense lessons, but I’m a country girl from Asheville and I can scream like a banshee if it comes down to it.”
I stare at her for a moment. “You make me proud. Any other person in a situation like this, who has endured what you have…they would be in the fetal position on the floor.”
“A country girl can survive,” is all she says, before returning to her meal. “Does it help that I can load and shoot a rifle? When I was in high school, I won first place in cross-country shooting sports. Hitting five targets dead center while running through the woods.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Immensely. But then, why did you need to take self-defense classes with me?”
“Because I thought you needed it.” She pops a grape into her mouth. “There’s a big difference between sport-shooting a rifle at a target, and aiming a Glock at someone.”
Her concern for me, like always, is nearly overwhelming. At one point, while we were in Prague, I might have had her love. I guess now, I can settle for her help.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why the change in attitude?”
Everly levels me with a look. “Either I can continue to be the helpless victim, or I can learn how to fight back. I choose to fight. I choose to live.”
We take a cab from the train station to Hotel Majestic. It’s situated in the middle of Barcelona. Made of light-colored stone, the seven-story building is bustling with activity when we arrive.
After handing over our passports, we are shown to a luxury suite and left alone.
“You sure do know how to travel,” Everly says, peering out the window.
“Normally, I wouldn’t stay here,” I admit.
She glances back at me. “Why not? It’s beautiful.”
“It’s too high profile. People come here to see and be seen.” Not exactly the darkness I need to take out my latest contract.
“Oh.” She walks around the room, taking in everything as her hands roam over the bedcovers. “What time are we meeting Benjamin?”
“At noon, but we need to be seated before then.” I exhale. “I still don’t know if I can trust him or not.”
Her brow arches. “So you need the home court advantage.”
Now that phrase I know. While living in Raleigh, I became obsessed with their March Madness and support of college basketball teams. Although, my favorite was not mentioned often—the one with the Pirate mascot.
I grin. “Exactly.”
“And you want to sit with your back against the wall.” She walks to me and pushes me down in a high-back chair, then straddles my lap. “That way you can see who is coming or going.”
“You are a quick learner, Mrs. Smith,” I tease. She frowns a little, so I lean forward to whisper in her ear, “Remember, we are honeymooners in love.”
Her head tilts to one side. “Shouldn’t we be doing more than just pretending we’re honeymooners in love?”
I grab her hips and push up. She moans at the contact and I groan low in my throat. “What did you have in mind?”
Her hands come between us to cup her breasts, teasing me as she pushes them together. “I was thinking of trying out the shower. I always feel so dirty after travelling.”
My hands join hers, my thumbs rubbing over her nipples and making them hard. “What if I make you even dirtier in the shower?”
She lowers her head to mine and sucks on my bottom lip. “Then it’s a good thing we have a lot of soap.”
Letting go of her breasts, I grab her hips and lift her as I stand. She wraps her legs around my waist, helping me carry her to the bathroom. I nibble on her neck and ear, earning a giggle from her.
“Prepare to get very dirty, love.”