He rose and put the beanie back on the rack as she did the same with her hat. “Let’s go. She might come back this way.”
They hustled out the front door.
“Follow me,” Emma said.
She clearly knew the city better than him, and she appeared to have a plan, so he let her lead him on a circuitous route through Old Town, both of them on high alert for the blonde, or anyone else who might show an interest.
What he didn’t get was why a reporter would care enough about their story to follow them. Then again, he and Emma were the only two who’d been with the old man when he died. Jason also knew from experience the lengths that some reporters would go to for a unique angle on a story. A free media was a pillar of democracy, but that didn’t mean he agreed with all journalistic tactics or content.
Ten minutes later, they walked under the arcade of a four-story building with elegantly carved stonework and entered through a set of glass doors.
“Where are we?” Jason asked.
Pictures of the Chapel Bridge, the Museggmauer—the city’s ancient protective wall—and Mt. Pilatus decorated the gleaming white lobby.
“My vacation rental.” Passing the elevator and a bank of mail boxes, she opened a heavy door and started up the stairs.
Four flights up, his left leg started to complain, but he ignored it.Just think of it as physical therapy. He wasn’t injured, just not fully healed. Nothing to worry about.
Colorful doors lined the hallway, each one marked with oversized numbers. Despite all the stairs, this was the third floor, because in Europe, the first floor was one up from the ground floor. Emma stopped before 303 and punched a code into a keypad. The door unlocked with a mechanical whir.
“Anyone in there I need to worry about?” he asked.
She glanced over her shoulder, her expression flat. “No jealous lovers here, I promise.”
Shit. That’s not what he’d meant.
Or maybe it was.
Oblivious to his thoughts, she pushed open the door and walked into the modest apartment, closing it behind them and cranking the deadbolt. She peeked into the two bedrooms and a bathroom that opened off the right side of the living room. “My friend must have gone out after all.”
The entire place, with its bare white walls and cheap modern furniture, was about the size of a two-car garage. A tiny round table and two chairs took up most of the L-shaped kitchen, barely leaving space for one person to maneuver.
Someone had chosen location over space.
Having lived near DC, and now LA, he understood. Luckily, working for Steele—especially since he’d become a partner—meant he didn’t have to compromise so much. He’d managed to find a recently remodeled apartment a block off the beach without overstretching his budget.
“I know it’s not much,” Emma said, a tiny furrow between her brows, “but it’ll keep the reporters off our scent until they lose interest.”
“I feel a little ridiculous hiding out. The media can be persistent and annoying, but they’re not usually dangerous.” Then again, the man he’d been tracking died today, so it paid to be careful. And Jason wasn’t complaining about getting more time with Emma. They’d shared a bonding event, and the longer they were together, the less he could imagine just walking away from her again. Though if he wanted to renew their friendship—and maybe more—they needed to talk through their history.
Her expression cleared and she nodded, gracing him with a self-deprecating smile. “You’re right. I’m just a little on edge.”
“Understandable, given what happened today.”
On a long sigh, she crossed her arms in a protective manner. “Would it…?” She bit her lip and looked down.
“What?” he prompted, shifting closer.
Lifting her head, she shyly met his gaze. “I could really use a hug. A real one.”
His stomach dipped. The one in the bookstore had been real enough to scramble his senses. What would this one do to him? But how could he turn her down? If she was willing to make herself vulnerable, he could too.
Without a word, he opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace, sliding her arms around his waist. He held her snugly, letting the warmth of her settle his own troubled heart. There might have been nothing he could do for Viktor, but he could help Emma—and himself—through this.
Jason’s pulse leveled out, even as the air around them shimmered with awareness. He rubbed his palm slowly up and down her spine, feeling her muscles relax. She gave a low hum of contentment against his chest.
He’d been a goddamned fool in college.
