Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“What is it?” I ask, already bracing myself for the answer.
Something’s gone wrong.
Again.
“Aleks says they’ve found your brother, he’s definitely alive,” Ollie replies, his voice now all business. “He isn’t anywhere near us yet. We’re safe. But he was sighted at The Cove earlier today.”
Oh God. It’s happening. I knew it would come to this, but it still hits me with the force of a tidal wave. My heart sinks to the floor.
Ollie’s face is unreadable as he dresses, shifting seamlessly back into the cold, distant, calculating person I first met. The difference is so palpable I can’t help but wonder if I’ve imagined any warmth.
“We’re heading into town to go to the farmers’ market. Your brother can kiss my ass.” He tugs on a tee, his muscles tense. “I want to take you before it gets too crowded. Let the men back at The Cove do their job and find him.” His green eyes laser in on mine. “Stay close and do what I tell you, Renata. Is that clear?”
I can only nod as I try to push away the anxiety that rises in my chest. I get dressed and put my hair in a messy bun. When I return to him and we leave the room, he acts as if I’m a witness in a relocation program or something, holding me behind him while he scouts ahead of us. I don’t bother to remind him that Aleks just told us moments ago no one’s found us here. It’s just as well, he wouldn’t listen to me if I did.
Normally, the vibrant energy of a farmers market would lift my spirits, but today, it feels like a distraction, nothing short of a temporary escape from the storm that’s brewing.
In the distance, someone plays a guitar, her soulful voice both beautiful and poignant. Ollie holds my hand.
The market stalls overflow with fresh fruits and vegetables, the air thick with the smell of ripe tomatoes and vendors showcasing their daily specials. Children dart between the stalls, and a sweet black puppy on a leash barks playfully between them.
We pass a stall selling freshly roasted coffee. I buy us both a cup as Ollie takes the opportunity to scan the crowd with practiced precision. His expression is, as always, tense and alert. One of the children runs from another and nearly knocks into me.
“Easy,” Ollie says, steadying the boy with two hands on either side of him. “You almost ran into my wife.”
The boy blanches and nods. I look in surprise at Ollie and try to see what the boy sees—a man twice his size wearing a leather jacket, covered in tattoos, with dark-green eyes that have no boundaries.
No wonder I’m having second thoughts.
“Do you want anything?” I ask. Perhaps a chocolate chip cookie will sweeten him up and soften the edges.
Perhaps not.
He shrugs. “Whatever you’re having. Mexican street corn?”
“No! Where?”
He jerks his chin at a vendor three stalls down.
“Sí.” Elote is 0ne of my all-time favorite foods.
The plump woman with a kind smile running the stall hands me two paper boats filled with grilled corn slathered in mayonnaise, chili powder, cojita cheese, lime juice and cilantro.
He hands her two $100 bills and tells her to keep the change. “No, no, this is too much,” she begins, but he only shakes his head and leads me away.
I take a bite. The flavors burst on my tongue. “This is delicious. Do you like it?”
I try to pull him into a conversation, but he only shrugs. “It’s fine.” I can’t help but notice the way his shoulders are slightly hunched, like he’s expecting something, or someone, to jump out at us.
We weave through the crowd and take our time looking at handmade jewelry, jars of homemade jams and preserves, and smelling baskets of cinnamon and clove potpourri. He buys me a turquoise beaded ring at one of the stalls on the edge of the market, closest to the music. “It’s pretty and dainty,” he says, sliding it onto my finger. “Like you.”
I kiss his stubbled cheek. “Dainty?”
“Mmm.”
When we reach the stall with fried dough, my mouth waters. “Care for a taste?” the vendor asks, holding out a sample.
When I reach for it, Ollie shakes his head. “If you want one, he’ll make it fresh,” he says in my ear.
“Okay.” I bite my lip. “Yeah, let’s get one.” We buy one and share it, but the silence between us feels louder than the bustling market. I try to ignore it, but Ollie’s continued distanced demeanor makes my chest feel tight.
Though the market buzzes all around us, it feels as if we’re miles away.
“Do you want to go back?” I finally ask. “You need to be in the thick of things, don’t you?”
He exhales and shakes his head. “It isn’t that, Renata. I trust my brothers. But I don’t like waiting for your brother to find us. I thought I’d feel differently about him once we were alone and safe, but the truth is… I feel like we’re only postponing the inevitable.”