“To answer your question, probably eight or nine hours. We have the day but will stay the night in another hotel before traveling home.”
“We’re on an adventure.”
“We are.”
We share a smile, and it strikes me how happy I am to be here with her. I’m a man who thrives on adrenaline, secrecy and lies. Conflict and challenges. But life with Rose is pleasurable in more ways than how much I desire her. She makes the simple things valuable and the uninteresting the Holy Grail. I have never met a woman like her in my life, and I’m surprisingly worried I may not be able to hold on to her.
The waiter returns with our food, and as we eat, I scan the cafe for any sign of danger. It’s what they do in the wild — eat with one eye on the horizon and I have never been any different.
“You’re nervous.” She leans closer and appears concerned.
“I don’t get nervous. I told you, I’m always one step ahead if not three, and that requires planning and thinking several steps ahead.”
“I feel safe with you, Julius.”
The sunshine in her smile catches a corner of my jaded heart, and on autopilot my hand finds hers, and I gaze into her eyes.
“I want you to. I will never hurt you, Rose, just so you know.”
She nods, happiness in her smile, and I wonder if she would be so trusting, so happy, if she discovered how dangerous I am. Not to her, never to her, because I may have the bloodstains of many men on my hands, but I have reverence in my heart concerning her.
I am a violent man. I was a violent child, and yet wanting her frightens me more than my own violence ever has.
I’m in unfamiliar territory in every way, and it’s become the most important thing in my world to get us home and hope she chooses me.
We drivefor most of the day, and as we approach Spain and the border, I pray that nothing prevents us from getting through. There is security everywhere, and we are on false passports. Our fate could be decided by one of these guards, and I hope like hell we pass through with no problems.
Rose is anxious as we approach the booth that will allow us to enter Spain and head to Madrid.
We join the line, and conversation is put on hold as we try to appear like the tourists we are supposed to be.
“Passport.”
The surly guard holds out his hand with a cursory glance in our direction, and I hate the way his eyes linger on Rose a fraction of a second too long.
She is anxious but smiles sweetly, and the warm smile he offers her almost causes me to roll my eyes. Fuck, even he isn’t immune to her, and the last thing we need is for her to be remembered.
He studies the photographs, and his gaze swivels between us, and I swear I hold my breath as he turns to the booth.
Another guard is standing there before a computer, and he says something in Spanish that causes the other guard to turn his head our way.
Roses’s hand finds mine, and she grips it hard, appearing unaware of any danger we could be in right now.
The guard turns his attention back to her with an amused smile and says something in Spanish, and I hold my breath.
Rose shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Spanish.”
He nods. “Welcome to Spain, Mrs. Sullivan.”
He completely ignores me as he hands the passports back and stands to the side, the light turning from red to green.
I pull away, still holding my breath, and as we create distance, Rose exhales sharply.
“That was close.”
“In what way?”
“The guard was joking with his friend. They werediscussing holding you for an hour or two so they could have some fun with me.”
