I sensed there was more coming.
“Your ex was overprotective, and he didn’t want to let you go. Let me tell you, he was less than thrilled when I showed up. He’s the one who caused the car accident.”
Down the beach, a toddler was dressed in warm clothes and dug in the sand with his father’s help. It was a normal scene, yet at this moment I felt so far removed I could have been on Mars.
Someone had tried to kill us.
“That’s why we’re here?” I asked. “You think he’ll try to kill us again?”
“No.” He wore the same cold expression he’d used with the doctor. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
My heart thudded, already sensing the reason. “Why not?”
“Because he’s dead.”
40
LAUREL
A glacier movedacross my body, weighing me down. Ryan had said it with certainty. I wanted to ask more, but the words couldn’t escape and my head pounded, beating away thought.
“No more questions for right now.” It came off light but felt like an order. “The doctor said not to give you too much, too soon. Okay?”
I nodded slightly, unable to move much for fear it would cause sharper pain. He took a deep breath and blew it out, resetting himself.
“I thought we could go to the market and pick up some things for dinner. But we can head home if you’re not up for that.”
I wanted more answers, but it wasn’t possible, and I wasn’t ready for another queasy ride back up the cliff.
Ryan parked the Mercedes and ushered me down a cobblestone street. The path took us in front of cozy storefronts until we rounded a corner and stepped into the quaint square.
It was crowded with booths, some covered with red shade umbrellas, and smoke wafted from grills in others. An older woman with a handkerchief on her head and a blanket thrown over her shoulders tried to interest me in a variety of fabric bolts on her table, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me deeper into the rows of stalls.
It was aisle after aisle of produce, bags, jewelry. One of the booths played Russian rap music from a radio and earnedan annoyed look from the older man in the next stand over. We paused at a table where Ryan examined some mushrooms, but my gaze drifted away while he chatted with the vendor in Croatian.
Halfway across the square, a young guy in dark clothes waved in my direction. I looked behind me, but no one seemed to be waving back to this man. When I turned to face him, I pointed to myself, “Me?”
He nodded aggressively. Then raised a camera with a large lens to snap pictures.
“Do I know that man with the camera?” I asked.
Ryan’s head snapped up, his face instantly angry.
“Plavko,” he yelled, but this wasn’t to the cameraman. It was to a tall, serious-looking man lurking near us whom I hadn’t noticed before. Everything about this intense man, including his furious eyes, screamed he was someone you did not want to mess with. He barreled through the crowd.
The cameraman took one look at the tall man charging toward him and fled.
“What was that?” I got it out just as Ryan took off and dragged me the opposite direction.
The woman at the stand yelled for us to come back, but there was no chance of that. I stumbled over the uneven cobblestones, trying to keep up. We bumped into people as we went, and I kept apologizing, unsure if they understood my English.
“Ryan.” My head pounded and the pain quickly became excruciating. “Slow down.”
We turned a corner, disappearing from the square, and he pushed me down a quiet alley. I leaned against the brick to catch my breath, and he threw his arms up around me, closing me in. My head hurt so badly I could barely stand.
“Are you all right?” His dark eyes were full of panic as he searched mine.
“Why are we running? Who was that man?”
