Текст книги "Unmasked: Volume Two"

Автор книги: Cassia Leo

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 7 страниц)

Chapter Five

After crying for more than an hour, I pick myself up and indulge in a long, hot shower to rid myself of this repulsive behavior. Fine. I’m allowed to grieve over Daimon for a short period of time, but I can’t draw this out. The man killed my father. I can’t indulge in sexual fantasies of the two of us together because, even if he is alive, we will never be together again. If he is alive, the only time I will ever touch him is to break his neck.

His muscular neck with the smooth skin that tastes so… real. So manly.

Oh, God. I’m in trouble. And I’m pretty sure Nick is the only person who can help me.

I try not to cringe as I quickly dress myself in another dress and sandals. I pull my hair up into a ponytail and apply some eye liner and lip balm. Then I sling my camera around my neck and head out the door. Outside, I run into Maria Elena; though she goes by Elena. She’s checking her mailbox on the other side of the street.

Elena digs her slender arm inside the box and comes out with a small stack of envelopes. She waves at me as I step out onto the street.

“Hello, Alyssa!” For an older woman, her voice is still quite youthful and melodic. “How are you?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

I keep walking toward Nick’s house which is right next door to hers and her gaze follows me. “Are you visiting Nicolas?”

I almost blurt out that it’s none of her business, but I keep my cool. “Yes, I am.”

“Oh, very good. Can you please take this to him?” She walks toward me holding out an envelope. “They put it in my mail.”

I take the envelope from her and she tilts her head as she looks at my skin and my hair. “I can color your hair, if you want. I used to have a salon many years ago, but I still color my own hair.”

A sharp pain twists inside my belly and I grit my teeth at that familiar feeling of being judged. “No, thank you. I like my hair the way it is.”

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to say that it is not beautiful the way it is.”

“It’s okay. I understand. And thank you, but I’m not interested in coloring my hair. I’m…” I pause as I try to figure out what the hell I’m doing. “I’m trying to be myself.”

I cringe at the irony of telling her I’m trying to be myself when the woman doesn’t even know my real name.

She flashes me a warm smile. “Your self is beautiful.”

I chuckle softly. “Thank you.”

“You should come over for dinner one of these nights. You shouldn’t have to eat alone. My husband and I would love to have you.” She takes a piece of my hair between her fingers and examines it wistfully. “My children have all moved away. My son is in Barcelona and my baby girl is in Belgium studying. She loves it, but I miss them. I can’t really afford to visit them. And they can’t afford to come home.”

“I will definitely stop by one of these evenings. Thank you for the invitation.”

She lets go of my hair and her smile tightens as she realizes I’m humoring her. She tucks her mail under her arm and turns around to leave.

“Wait! Elena.”

She turns around, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

I lift the camera from around my neck and hand it to her. “Here. Take this.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s a camera. You can use it to take pictures and send them to your kids.”

“Oh, no. I can’t take that. It looks very expensive.”

“No, please take it,” I say, pushing the camera toward her. “Please. I ordered a new one and it should be arriving any day now. Please take it.”

“Are you sure?” I nod vigorously and she carefully takes the camera from my hand. “Thank you.”

I watch as she heads back to her quaint yellow cottage with the red tile roof. Just one in a thousand other cottages like it on this island. But I’m beginning to realize that each one holds a different story. I think Elena’s might be one of quiet desperation. I still haven’t figured out my story yet.

I knock on Nick’s door and he answers almost immediately. He looks me up and down then smiles. It’s almost a bashful smile, as if he’s embarrassed for making me sick with his cooking.

“I’m starving,” I say, holding out my hand. “Can we get some lunch?”

He reaches for me then pulls his hand back at the last moment. “Hold on. I can’t forget my phone.”

He disappears inside and comes back a few seconds later, tucking his cell phone in his pocket as he pulls the front door closed. He turns around and grabs my hand, swiftly bringing it to his lips and planting a soft kiss on my knuckles.

“I will try not to feel bad that you don’t trust my cooking.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust it. I’ve just had an upset stomach for a couple of days. Just getting use to the island and all.”

He casts a suspicious sideways glance in my direction. “I’ll pretend to believe that.” He begins walking faster until we’re jogging. “Come on. The restaurant I want to take you to is always busy for lunch. We have to hurry if we want to get a table.”

I laugh as he pulls me to the left at the crossroad and we jog up the incline to a small restaurant with a patio overlooking the harbor. He seems a bit out of breath when we get there, but I could probably go up and down that hill a half dozen times before I’d show signs of fatigue. If Daimon comes back, Nick will be no match for him.

Nick speaks to the waitress, who seems reluctant to seat us. He seems to be laying on the charm pretty thick, though I don’t understand a word they’re saying. Finally, her shoulders slump and she nods as she grabs a couple of menus and takes us through the restaurant to the patio.

“What did you have to tell her?” I whisper as she leads us to a perfect location in the corner of the patio where the view is spectacular. From here, we can see the waves crashing against the black ocean rocks below.

“I told her you were dying of cancer and this is your last wish. And…”

“And what?”

He waits until the hostess is gone, then he chuckles. “I told her you are the daughter of a famous Spanish actor. She believed it.”

I swallow hard when I think of the words Daimon said to me last week: You are a princess, Alex! It’s time you start acting like one….

“I’m sorry. Did I upset you?”

I look up and Nick looks worried. “No, no. I’m just thinking about home. Sometimes I get a little homesick.”

Homesick isn’t exactly the word for what I’m feeling. More like just plain sick of feeling haunted. Sick of feeling anything at all for Daimon.

Nick stares at me through squinted eyes for a moment, as if he’s hatching a plan. “I think I can help you with that.”

“How? I can’t go home – I mean, I can’t go home yet. My rent is paid through the month. I need to try to find some inspiration while I’m here.”

He smiles and I get a fluttering in my belly. “I think I can help you feel less homesick and help you feel more inspired, at the same time. But I’ll have to tell you about it later. I have to talk to—” His cell phone rings and he’s almost frantic as he slides it out of his pocket and checks the screen. “I have to take this. I’ll be just a minute.” He practically leaps out of his chair and answers the phone just as he enters the interior dining area.

That was odd.

The waiter comes by and asks me a question in Spanish, but I ignore him as I rise from the table and head inside to follow Nick. I see him just as he disappears into a corridor marked with a restroom sign. I hurry over, but I don’t enter. I stand off to the side and attempt to listen in, but all I hear is Nick whispering urgently in Spanish.

A woman wearing a straw sunhat looks at me curiously from a few tables away. I must look strange, a half-albino trying to eavesdrop on her date’s conversation. I smile at the woman then I flip her the bird and she looks stunned.

“Al—Alyssa?”

Shit.

I turn to my right and Nick has one eyebrow cocked as he waits for me to explain what I’m doing here.

I smile and flip the woman off one more time for good measure. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. I was coming to use the restroom and this rude woman was staring at me because I look different. Excuse me.”

I push past him and head for the ladies’ restroom. Once inside, I take a deep breath of stale bathroom air and head for a stall. I force myself to piss then I head back to the patio.

Nick looks a bit serious as I take a seat across from him. “I ordered you a glass of wine.”

“Thank you,” I say, trying to squash the paranoia telling me not to drink it.

We sit in silence for a moment, just watching the waves as they crash against the rocks repeatedly. Finally, the waiter returns to take our order and Nick translates the specials for me. But when none of them sound interesting, he orders something he’s certain I’ll enjoy then sends the waiter on his way.

“You haven’t touched your wine.”

“I’m just still feeling a little queasy.”

“Queasy?”

“Queasy means sick, to my stomach.”

“Oh.”

He nods and turns back toward the ocean view. He doesn’t believe me. And why should he. He just caught me spying on him.

“Nick?”

He turns to me and raises his eyebrows.

“There’s something I have to tell you. I … I left the U.S. to get away from some things … someone. I thought he was—”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“No, I want to explain. I want you to know why I did that.” I nod toward the dining area inside the restaurant. “I was burned … badly. In the worst way imaginable. And I’m … I’m scared.”

“It’s okay. You—”

“I feel like I don’t know what the truth is anymore,” I continue, not wanting to stop while I’m on a roll. “I used to have a routine. I knew how every day would go from the time I woke up until I lay down to sleep, but now I don’t know anything. I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know if I’ll ever trust anyone again.” I grab his hand and look him in the eye. “But I want to. I want to let go of the past. I want to trust… someone.”

He leans forward in his chair and lays his hand over mine. “I just want you to give me a chance.” He reaches up and cradles one side of my face in his large hand. “Can you give me a chance to show you that I’m not like this person who hurt you?”

A surge of emotion overcomes me and I blink repeatedly to stop the tears from spilling over. The waiter arrives with our food, providing me with a bit of cover to dab the corners of my eyes with my napkin. Once the waiter’s gone, I flash Nick a huge smile.

“Let’s hurry up. I want to take you back to my place and show you something.”

***

We arrive at my cottage, our hunger sated with outrageously succulent seafood. Our thirst slaked with equally phenomenal wine. I feel much better than I did last night after those sangritos. In fact, as I close the front door behind me and follow Nick into the living room, admiring his backside view, I’m feeling positively fabulous.

He turns around where the living room and kitchen meet. “This home has a very warm feeling. Is it just me?”

“No, it’s not just you. It’s the air conditioner. It doesn’t work.” I chuckle as I head for the living room window to open it. “This house is 114 years old. Sometimes the water heater doesn’t even work and I have to take a cold shower.” I unlatch the lock on the window and slide it open. “But at least it has new storm doors and windows.”

I flinch as Nick sneaks up behind me and slides his hands over my hips, moving forward until they rest on my abdomen. I can smell his soft cologne as he nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck.

“I’ve been wanting to touch you ever since I woke up with you in my bed this morning.” I close my eyes, trying to ignore that familiar pulsating sensation between my legs as he takes my earlobe between his teeth and gently scrapes them over my skin. “But you left in such a hurry.”

A stiff breeze sweeps through the window, lifting the hairs around my nape and carrying with it that familiar scent I’ve come to associate with Daimon. His smell must be embedded in this dress from being inside my closet. I glance down and notice my nipples have hardened beneath the thin fabric of my dress.

Though the breeze is cool, my body is warm and receptive from the wine. I want to have sex with Nick. Not just to forget Daimon. I need to feel wanted. I need to be touched by someone other than myself.

I turn around in Nick’s arms and press my sensitive nipples into his chest. “Take your clothes off.”

He smiles at my order, but he quickly removes his T-shirt. “Your turn.”

I peel off my dress and toss it behind him. He coils his arms around my waist and lifts me slightly so he can kiss my burgeoning breasts. His lips on my skin is driving me crazy. I wrap my arms around his neck and lift myself off the ground to wrap my legs around his hips. He kisses me hungrily, our mouths tangled in a wild dance as he carries me toward my bedroom.

“I want to make love to you, Alyssa.”

I can’t stand the sound of my fake name coming out of his mouth at a moment like this, so I kiss him hard, but he quickly pulls away. He sets me down on the floor next to my bed and grabs my face to force me to look at him

“Do you hear me. I want to make love to you. I don’t want to have sex with you.” He gazes into my eyes for a while and I feel the moment growing bigger than just the two of us. “I want you to trust me. I can’t do this if you don’t trust me. I … I adore you. Te adoro.”

It takes me a moment to realize I’m not breathing. After a few deep breaths, I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder so I don’t have to look him in the eye when I say, “I trust you.”

He kisses the top of my head and moves down, his lips whispering over the curve of my shoulder. I turn my face into his neck and lick his skin, not surprised to find he tastes salty from our day outside in the ocean air. I close my lips around his flesh, scraping my teeth over his skin and pleased to find his cock hardening under his jeans. I slide my hands down and quickly undo his belt and pants, then I push them down hastily.

He chuckles at my urgency as I continue pushing down his blue boxer briefs. “Are you in a hurry, cariño?”

The room is darkening more and more with each passing moment. We need to do this quickly before it gets dark. I don’t want my first time with Nick to be bogged down by memories of Daimon.

“Yes, I’m in a hurry.” I grab his hard length in my right hand and clasp my left hand around the back of his neck to kiss him, but he pulls back. “I have to go to Maria Elena’s for dinner,” I lie. “She invited me this afternoon before we went to lunch.”

“But you just ate. And dinner is not for another four hours or more.”

I smile. “Then we’d better get started if we only have four hours.”

He laughs, but it quickly turns into a moan when I firmly slide my fist down the length of his cock. He’s not as big as Daimon, but that could be a good thing. Daimon had a way of leaving me feeling absolutely destroyed. In every way.

I slip out of my panties and quickly peel off my bra, then I grab him again. Thrusting my hips forward, I try to rub my clit against the tip of his cock, but I end up smashing his dick.

“Puta madre!”

“Sorry!” I cry with absolute mortification. That is not how it happened in my dream.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Just lay down.”

I sit down on the bed then scoot back so I can lie down in the center of the bed. He climbs on top of me, spreading my legs apart so he can settle himself down between my legs. Then it dawns on me.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“Do you have a condom?” I ask, my heart racing as I realize how close I just came to doing something very stupid. I really need to be more careful about these things.

He chuckles as he reaches onto the floor to retrieve his jeans. Digging through the pockets, he finds his wallet and produces a condom from within its folds. He tears it open and my stomach begins to hurt as I watch him slide it onto his erection. This is it. This is really happening.

He kneels between my legs and stares down at me for a moment, admiring my body. I can’t help but feel like we skipped a step. I’m pretty sure we skipped the step where he’s supposed to make me come first.

Oh, well. I guess if people can kiss differently, then it stands to reason that they also fuck differently.

Ten minutes later, Nick rolls off me, exhausted from thrusting his cock into my pussy. I’m a bit annoyed, but I don’t bother bringing it up when he pulls me into his arms to cuddle. I rest my head on his chest as he strokes his fingers softly through my hair.

I sigh as my body begins to relax and I think to myself, Sex is a skill that can be learned, right?

Chapter Six

I feel a little bad about basically kicking Nick out of my bed and my house, but I can’t lie here and pretend to trust him. Especially when I’m getting no satisfaction out of it. But as we stand on my front doorstep, the sad puppy-dog look he’s casting in my direction sparks something inside me. I just can’t figure out if it’s pity or genuine affection.

“I’ll stop by your house tomorrow morning after I go for my morning run.”

“I’ll run with you,” he counters.

Either this guy doesn’t take a hint well or he’s trying to keep an eye on me. Either way, I don’t like it.

“I’d rather go alone. Besides, I’m leaving really early in the morning. And after I run, I’m going to do some shopping. I won’t be long. I’ll stop by your place afterward to say good morning.”

“Buenos días. To say buenos días.”

“Right.”

He takes my face in his hands and lays a soft kiss on my cheekbone. I hold my breath as he plants another kiss on my forehead, then he kisses me slowly. I can’t help but notice that, after just two days together, our kiss has already become synced. Is that all it takes?

It’s hard not to feel a little sad and scared about this. Knowing that if I were to kiss Daimon right now, his kiss would feel foreign to me.

Must. Stop. Thinking. About. Daimon.

I pull away and quickly turn around to head inside. Closing the door softly behind me, I head back to my bedroom to finish myself off. Afterwards, I shower and change into my old uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, and black sunglasses. Then I wait.

***

I wake at five a.m. and pack a canvas grocery bag with some jogging clothes. Then I dress in my black jeans and hoodie and hope that the weather won’t be too hot and humid today. I apply some makeup to cover up my skin discoloration, then I put on one of those uncomfortable brown contact lenses.

I catch the seven a.m. bus to the city and get off on the outskirts of Santa Cruz de la Palma. The buildings are more spread out in this area, but the crime is more condensed. I’m sure if I walk around long enough, I’ll find someone who can help me.

Keeping my hood pulled tight over my head, I walk the streets with my head slung low as I watch the activity. A woman hangs up clothes on a clothesline that stretches from her low roof to the top of the block wall surrounding her dilapidated cottage. She eyes me suspiciously as I walk by, but I ignore her and turn right at the corner. A young guy, about eighteen or nineteen, is standing just inside the gate of a small peach-colored house. He stares at me as I pass and I stare right back to show him I’m not intimidated.

I’m almost past his property when he shouts at me, “American!”

I stop and turn around. Unsure if he shouted it as an insult or a question. We glare at each other for a moment in silence, my heart racing as I anticipate whether or not I’m going to have to beat the shit out of this kid.

“Are you American?”

My instinct is to relax when I realize he’s just asking a question, but this could be a trick. He may be asking if I’m American so he can rob me. He really doesn’t want to try that.

“Yes. Do you speak English?”

He opens the iron gate and steps out onto the sidewalk. “Yes, I speak English.”

His hand moves slowly from his side toward his waist.

“You don’t want to do that.”

His hand stops. “Why?”

“Because I’m an agent with the federal government and I can make your life a living hell.” He narrows his eyes at me, unsure whether he should believe me. “Or… I can offer you a lot of money for your help. Your choice.”

He clenches his jaw as he contemplates my offer, then he slowly lowers his hand to his side. “What kind of help?”

After forty minutes of Jorge trying to get in touch with various different contacts, he finally finds someone who can help me. We walk the nine blocks to his friend Gringo’s house. I don’t know much Spanish, but I know gringo means white man. So it doesn’t surprise me when a forty-something man with blonde hair and muddy grey eyes answers the door of the upstairs apartment.

“Come inside,” he says, without the slightest trace of an accent. This guy must be American.

I shouldn’t go inside a strange apartment with two strange men. I don’t think they’ll be able to kill me, but I would rather not have to kill them. Then I’d have to try to hide out on an island with a population equal to a few L.A. city blocks. Or I’d have to try to escape the island undetected. And that’s a bit more complicated than catching a flight out of LAX.

But I really have no choice. I need to know if I can trust Nick or if he’s just trying to get close enough to take me down.

I step into Gringo’s humble apartment and Jorge follows closely behind me. The living room is clean, with two wicker armchairs and a melon-colored sofa. A glass table in the center of the room displays a dramatic O-shaped wooden sculpture. A sliding glass door is open, letting in the cool morning breeze and the whole apartment smells like coffee. It feels homey and comfortable.

“Have a seat,” Gringo says, motioning to one of the wicker chairs.

I sit down, placing my canvas bag of clothes at my feet, and my body tenses as he reaches under one of the couch cushions. I chuckle to myself when he pulls out a laptop and sets it down on the glass coffee table. He sits on the edge of the sofa and opens the computer, tapping on the keys for a bit.

“Okay, I can look the guy up, but I need the cash up front.”

“All of it?”

“All of it. Just set it down on the table.” I reach for the pocket of my hoodie and within a second, Jorge has his gun pointed at my head. “Slowly!” Gringo shouts at me.

I swallow hard, mostly for affect. Though having a gun pointed at my head does make me a little nervous, I can disarm Jorge and knock both of these bastards out faster than it will take them to piss their pants.

I hold my hands up to show that I’m not concealing anything, then I slowly reach for the wad of cash in my pocket. I place the roll of money equaling seven hundred euros on the table.

“How much is it?”

“Seven hundred.”

Gringo flashes Jorge a look of disgust then turns back to me. “I said one thousand.”

“All I have is seven hundred, but I’m good for the rest. I swear.”

“I don’t give a fuck if you swear!”

Jorge shoves the gun forward until it’s pressed against my temple. Fuck. These guys are in way over their heads.

“Listen to me,” I begin calmly. “I am a federal agent with the CIA. If you kill me, not only will you be arrested, but you’ll be tortured by federal agents until you give up everyone you’ve ever worked with.”

Gringo and Jorge laugh at this threat. I take a slow breath and smile as I realize that these bastards think they’ve got me.

“If you think a federal agent is going to withhold three hundred euros then you’re not as bright as I thought. I should just go.”

I stand from the chair quickly and Gringo reaches for something underneath the cushion. Jorge adjust his aim, but I twist around and grab his wrist before he can fire. His finger presses down on the trigger and the shot squeals past my shoulder and lands in the flat screen TV on the wall. Gringo retrieves a gun from beneath the sofa cushion, but I twist Jorge’s gun around and press my finger over his to shoot Gringo in the chest.

Gringo falls back onto the sofa as Jorge lets go of his gun. I don’t want to shoot him, but he’s already reaching for the door handle to escape. I shoot him in the head, then I grab the roll of money off the coffee table and my canvas bag of clothes and get the fuck out of there.

I keep my hood pulled tight over my head as I race down the steps of the apartment building. A woman in the apartments below is peering through her screen door to see what’s going on. I don’t pay her any attention. I keep running for five and a half blocks until I find a bus stop with a bus that’s just arriving. I hop inside and head straight for the back.

My heart is pounding like a sledgehammer against my chest. For a moment, I think I might be having a heart attack, until the bus gets about four stops away. Then I begin to breathe easier.

There are only a few people on the bus, so I use the relative privacy to change out of my hoodie and into the running T-shirt I brought with me. That’s when I notice the bullet Jorge fired must have grazed my shoulder.

Fuck!

I was supposed to get some information on Nick, and the black guy in the hoodie, then go to the city’s free clinic and get a pregnancy test. I’m not very experienced, but I know from watching enough television and movies that a late period often means a woman is pregnant. I’m five days late. Which means, if I am pregnant, it’s Daimon’s child.

The truth is, I never got a gynecological exam when I went back to see Dr. Grossman a few weeks ago to have my stitches removed. And without an exam, she refused to prescribe me any birth control. I didn’t want to admit this to Daimon, so I never brought it up. Then I read on the internet that something like fifty-percent of pregnancies end in miscarriage, but most women never know because they think the bleeding is due to their normal period. To me, this meant I had, at best, a fifty-percent chance of getting pregnant. I figured, if I made sure he didn’t come inside of me, there would be no chance. Now I just feel like an idiot.

I can’t go anywhere in this city now. Not while I’m wearing this clothes and sporting this two-inch bullet graze. I have to get the hell out of Santa Cruz de la Palma.

I ride the bus all the way back to Brena Baja. Then I stop at the corner convenience store to get some laundry soap and first aid supplies. It’s about time I washed my laundry in the concrete basin in the backyard. I’m halfway down the street, right in front of Nick’s house, when I hear him calling my name.

“Alyssa!”

I sigh and execute a half-turn toward his front door, hoping to conceal the bleeding cut on my shoulder. “Nick! I’m just going home to take a shower. I’ll be right out.” I start off toward my cottage, then I hear the gate creak as he comes after me. “I really need to shower and get my laundry going. I’ll be out in just a bit.”

I’m almost to my gate when he wraps his arm around my waist to stop me. “Alyssa, are you okay? What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

I clutch my canvas bag to my chest and take a deep breath as I turn around. Looking into Nick’s sparkling green eyes, I force myself to become emotional. I mean, a normal person would be hysterical if someone pulled a gun out and nearly shot them.

Jutting my bottom lip out, I sniffle. “I was attacked in the city, by a black man in a black hoodie. I was—” I drop my canvas bag onto the street “—I was so scared, Nick!”

I throw my arms around him and wait for him to stammer as he realizes his partner beat me up. But he just holds me tightly and rubs my back.

“Oh, baby. Are you okay? We’re you… I mean, what did he do to you?”

I grit my teeth as I try to come up with a good story on the spot. “I was in the city shopping and he must have seen my cash and he tried to rob me.”

“You were in the city?”

For a moment, I consider lying. He may have heard the news that there was a shooting in the city by now.

“Yes, I told you I was going shopping.”

“You said you were going for a run.” He lets go of me and looks me up and down, his gaze skimming over my T-shirt and lingering on my black jeans and steel toe boots. “Is that how you dress to go running?”

I snatch my canvas bag off the street and hold it out. “I changed in a restroom in the city, but …. but I was bleeding so much I didn’t finish changing. I knew I had to get home quickly.”

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?”

“Hospital?”

“Yes, the place where people go when they’re sick or injured?”

We stare into each other’s eyes for a moment and I consider blurting out the truth that I was in the city looking for unsavory characters who would help me investigate him using the passport I stole from his cottage last night. But I take a few slow breaths instead as I formulate a better explanation.

“I was trying to get something for you, to surprise you.” I reach up, ignoring the pain in my shoulder as I take his face in my hands. “I was on my way to the clinic to get on birth control, so you and I could… you know, whenever we want.” My lips hover over his, allowing his craving to grow. “I want to fuck you. All. Day. Long.”

I trace my tongue along the crease of his lips and he sucks in a sharp breath before he pulls away. Taking the canvas bag away from me, he nods toward his house.

“Come to my house. I’ll help you get that cleaned up.”

I glance at the cut on my shoulder then smile at him. “My hero.”

He smiles as he leads me back to his house. Once we’re inside, he drops my bag onto the kitchen table, then he disappears into the bathroom to get some more first aid supplies that I forgot to purchase at the convenience store. I seize the opportunity to slip the passport I stole back into his desk. I slide the desk drawer closed and when I turn around, Nick is standing behind me holding a bottle of peroxide and some cotton balls.

My heart pounds as he glares at me in silence. I’m about to open my mouth to explain why I was looking in his drawers, but he beats me to it.

“Would you like to go on an American date with me tomorrow?”

His gorgeous lips curl into a smile and I can’t help but smile back. “I’d love to.”