Marseille, France

  The docks reeked of fish and salt but Ashtyn barely noticed as the speedboat approached, engine cut, the lights out.
 It was a run she had done more times than she could count, the stench of Marseille hardly alerting her senses as her nose for danger kicked in.
 The driver leapt onto the rotting wood from the bow, a balaclava covering his face.
 Such a stupid formality. I know what you look like, Marius, she thought with uncharacteristic annoyance but her nerves were tauter than usual that evening.
 Another man slithered up the companionway, his features obstructed by a scarf, army bag in hand.
 He was someone Ashtyn did not recognize, but that was unimportant. The entire transaction wouldn’t take more than a minute and this would be her last meet, right? She was not looking for Facebook friends, after all.
 Ashtyn reached for the canvas bag, but he stopped her by yanking it just out of her reach as he waited for payment, not a word exchanged.
 She scowled and tried to snatch it from his hands.
 “Goods first,” she hissed in French. “You know the rules.”
 He stared at her with pale green eyes, maintaining his grip on the bas as Ashtyn peered inside the sack, mentally calculating the bricks inside.
 Without a word, he grabbed the bag back and Ashtyn glanced up at him in surprise.
 He must be new, she thought, eyeing the captain of the boat who stood on guard, facing the fishing town warily.
 “Depeche-vous!” Marius snarled at the duo as he caught Ashtyn’s eye but they stood in a silent tug-o-war.
 “D’argent.” The man’s tone was flat and cold, sending shivers down Ashtyn’s spine.
 There was something almost dead in his eyes as he waited, his grip on the drugs vice-like.
 She reached into her coat with her free hand, reluctant to loosen her hold on the bag but she couldn’t stand around playing games with the cold-eyed handler all night.
 “What is taking you so long?” Marius snapped, whirling to look back at them. “We don’t have all night!”
 She noticed he paused to look at his partner almost inquisitively but he did not speak to him directly.
 Ashtyn slipped the strap of the saddle bag over her shoulder and tossed it into his arms while simultaneously ripping the bag full of heroin from his hands.
 Although she could not see his mouth, she felt as if he was smiling and for a moment, Ashtyn thought she recognized him.
 Her aqua eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at him but Marius joined them, grabbing his counterpart’s arm and ushering him back onto the boat.
 “Go!” Marius urged as he realized she made no move to leave.
 But she could not pull her gaze away from the sea green irises of the silent man.
 Where do I know him from? She asked herself silently but Marius was right. There was no time for introductions, nor did Ashtyn want to know any more.
 In a day, she would be reunited with Viola for the first time in six years.
 From there, she would be on the run for the rest of her life.
 The less people she knew from this part of her life, the better.
 She hurried away, strapping the bag to her back as she stole through the docks and away from the port, her heart hammering but not because of the drug deal.
 The man with the strange eyes has filled her with apprehension for some reason she did not understand.
 Who cares? After tonight, you will never see him, Marius or any of the other bastards again.

  “Billet, s’il vous plait, mademoiselle,” the conductor called to her and Ashtyn jerked her head up, peering at him uncomprehendingly.
 “Mademoiselle? Your ticket please?” he tried again in English and she nodded quickly, her eyes darting to the seat at her side.
 You fell asleep with hundreds of thousands of dollars of heroin beside you. Are you crazy?
 The bag remained untouched but anxiety was mounting as she fumbled in her coat for her ticket.
 “Merci,” the man said as he sauntered down the aisle.
 Ensuring that he was gone, she glanced furtively inside the sack and exhaled as she realized the drugs were accounted for.
 It was a trip she had taken dozens of times; the train ride from Paris to Marseille but she had never drifted off.
 Am I becoming complacent? I can fall asleep in the middle of a drug transfer?
 She reminded herself again that this was the last one.
 She hoped.
 Ashtyn reasoned that if she kept saying it, the thought might become a reality.
 “Pardonez-moi.”
 She looked up in surprise, half-expecting the conductor to have returned.
 “That is my seat,” the big stranger explained, pointing to where the drugs sat and she narrowed her teal colored eyes.
 “It is not,” she replied shortly, turning her head dismissively. “They are both mine.”
 “No, mademoiselle,” he replied, his accent thick and irritated. “Look.”
 He thrust his ticket in front of her and Ashtyn found herself glancing at it, despite wanting to ignore him.
 Indeed, his ticket showed he belonged in the seat beside her.
 “There is a mistake,” she replied flatly. “Find another place.”
 He sighed and shook his head. She glanced up at him reluctantly, taking in his beautiful face and mouth-wateringly broad chest. She licked her lips without realizing what she was doing.
 “I do not see why you need –,“ he started.
 “I do not need to explain myself to you,” she retorted hotly, her face growing red with embarrassment as she watched his eyes follow the path of her tongue. “I purchased two seats so I can have two seats. Please move along.”
 She never had difficulty hiding her thoughts – how had she slipped up? Attractive as he may be, she was. He did not budge, much to her chagrin.
 Is this guy for real? I am not doing this, not tonight.
 “Here,” she spat, grabbing her bag to allow him to sit. “I will find another place since you are such a gentleman.”
 He studied her face closely, his dark eyebrows furrowing.
 “Do I know you?”
 The question sent a stab of worry through her and suddenly Ashtyn sensed a trap.
 This is not a coincidence. He is one of Khan’s men, she thought, turning to regard him suspiciously.
 Her heart stopped as she realized who he was, his mossy eyes glittering as he squeezed past her to sit at the window.
 “No,” she replied curtly but she sank back into her seat, knowing there was nowhere to run if he was one of Khan’s men.
 “Are you certain?” he asked, his eyes searching her face. “You look familiar. I feel like I can see you standing in the moonlight, the beams of light dancing off your porcelain skin – “
 “What do you want?” she snapped, a furious blush creeping up her neck. “Why are you following me?”
 He shrugged nonchalantly, a charming smile lighting his intelligent face.
 “I would think you are accustomed to men following you, Mademoiselle,” he replied evenly, pulling the fedora from atop his bald head.
 Ashtyn didn’t answer, holding the bag close to her chest.
 Why would Khan send someone tonight? He hasn’t had me tailed in years.
 Fear tickled her stomach.
 “What is your name?” the man asked as if he was still someone who had only chanced upon her and Ashtyn felt anger override her concern.
 “If I am going to be stuck on this train with you for the next – “she glanced at the cheap wristwatch on her arm. “-two hours, I would prefer that you are silent.”
 Was I really asleep for an hour?
 His eyes lit up with amusement.
 “I have never had a woman so adamantly refuse my company,” he told her, and Ashtyn resisted the urge to slap his smug face.
 “Well,” she replied shortly. “As they say, there is a first time for everything.”
 He laughed, and despite her resolve to loathe the man, Ashtyn found herself eyeing him more closely.
 There was an elusive quality about him which she found both tantalizing and irritating at the same time. His strong chiseled jawline made her want to nibble the line leading up to his ear. Fuck, Ashtyn! Since when do you think with your pussy? she thought with frustration.
 But Ashtyn knew she had seen him before, even prior to their encounter on the dock.
 He must be one of Khan’s men, she thought, her pulse quickening as she tried to understand the implications of him being seated beside her on the train.
 Has something happened to Viola? Is that why Khan has sent this man to follow me?
 None of it made sense but she knew she had to get rid of him.
 Suddenly, he smiled at her, his eyes growing warm.
 “Do I amuse you?” she asked and he nodded slowly.
 “You truly do,” he replied. “What is your name?”
   “Joan,” she replied easily, watching as his grin widened. “And yours?”
 “I am Jean. Or, as you Americans would say; John.”
 She noted his thick French accent but something about him as a Frenchman didn’t quite ring true. He was not quite suave enough and while he possessed a certain elegance, he did not claim the same arrogance of the men she had encountered during her time in Paris.
 “What makes you think I am American?” she purred, deciding to play his game. She wanted to build his trust as fast as she could.
 He stared at her for a long moment and Ashtyn suddenly found herself short for breath as their eyes locked.
 “I might be inside your head as we speak.”
 Inexplicably a rush of heat flooded through her and she became confused.
 She blinked several times as she tried to find her voice but she was disoriented, as if she had suddenly woken from a deep sleep.
 What did he just do to me? She wondered, her heart hammering wildly as she struggled to hide her sudden panic.
 A bizarre thought crossed her mind.
 Was he really in my head?
 She pushed the inane idea away, determined not to let the familiar stranger intimidate her. But the danger in his face was almost palpable and Ashtyn knew she was in trouble.
 You have been up against worse than this hired nobody, she tried to tell herself, but she honestly didn’t know if that was true.
 Don’t do anything stupid. Lose him – permanently and get back to Khan. If something has happened that caused Khan to have someone trailing you, you’re as good as dead. At least if you lose this one, you increase your chances for survival.
 “Joan?” he asked, cocking his head to the side questioningly. “You have a peculiar expression on your face.”
 “Do I?” she replied quickly. “I am only waiting for you to answer my question.”
 “I seem to have forgotten it,” he replied but Ashtyn knew he had forgotten nothing.
 A small smile toyed on her lips.
 “Me too,” she sighed and he chuckled.
 She glanced at her watch again.
 “You seem impatient,” Jean commented.
 I have to do what I have to do, she thought grimly.
 “No,” she replied. “I am dying for a drink. Will you join me?”
 His eyes glimmered with interest but Ashtyn could read the skepticism in their depth. She rose before he could answer.
 “I’ll be in the bar car,” she told him and she held her breath as she walked away.
 She didn’t exhale until she saw him slip into the aisle and follow her.
 Sorry, Jean. You’ve got to go.