by Zoe York
He cast another glance behind them, but he was beginning to think he might have lost their pursuers after all.
“It took us a while to figure out what was going on,” he continued. “We’re still unraveling bits and pieces. But it was clear that Rinaldi knew his health was suffering. And the details he provided were odd—he was no longer giving thorough accounts of his expeditions, though it was obvious from what he did write that he was still traveling regularly. And sometimes he seemed to be writing in riddles, almost as if his mind was going along with his heart. And then one day, Roth—that’s our team’s captain—figured it out. Rinaldi wasn’t going on expeditions during that last year. He was creating one. Making his own treasure hunt, and leaving the clues for his fiancée. She rarely went with him on his expeditions, and she must have thought that he’d wasted his entire fortune on his hobby. In fact, it appears that he just decided to leave it to her in the most spectacular way possible.”
Charlie leaned back in her seat. After a moment, she said, “This sounds like a bad TV movie.”
“I haven’t even gotten to the best part. Our first clue about his fortune was a riddle he wrote toward the end of his journal.” He hated himself for knowing it by heart—because honestly, it might have been the worst bit of poetry ever written in the history of the world—but the entire team had studied it so many times, from so many angles, that it was hard not to have it memorized. He cleared his throat.
“It said,
‘The greatest treasure God ever gave me
Was that first look upon your face.
The greatest treasure I can leave you
Might be hunted from that place.’ ”
Naturally, Charlie laughed—a real laugh this time, and his cock was suddenly reminded of the last time he heard that bright, sweet sound from those lips. He’d been on top of her, and his tongue had discovered a spot behind her ear where she—
Headlights flashed in the mirror.
Focus, you idiot! he yelled internally at himself. He pressed down on the gas, but the car behind him turned onto a side street. False alarm.
“Obviously, Rinaldi wasn’t much of a poet,” he said, fighting back his paranoia. “You can see why we thought this was a joke for so long. But the more we looked into it, the more we realized that we might be onto something. There was a lot of speculation about where all of Rinaldi’s money went. His fiancée was supposedly furious she received so little.”
“Sounds like true love.”
“She recovered pretty quickly—I think she married some French billionaire about two months after Rinaldi’s funeral. Which is why we don’t feel the need to rush to her with our suspicions about what he did with all that money. I’m not sure she ever even opened his journals.”
Charlie slid her hand over the cover of the book in her lap. “Where does the atlas come in?”
“That riddle seems to suggest that we need to find the place where he first met Alyssa. One of his earlier journals seems to suggest he met her when he was sailing off the coast of Croatia, but that’s still a lot of area to search. And even if we narrowed it down to an island or a port, how do we know where to go from there? Fortunately, he left a clue for us—for her. At the very end of his last journal, on the inside of the back cover, he scribbled, ‘If you have trouble, my love, remember—trusted maps will always steer you true.’”
“And he trusted this atlas.”
Strangely, she didn’t pose it as a question, but he answered it anyway. “We spent days studying his other maps—the ones we had, anyway—including a couple of the Mediterranean and the Adriatic. But he mentioned that atlas several times in his journals. He loved it. Took it with him all over the world.”
“I knew it.” Her voice was full of wonder.
“Knew what?” He glanced over at her, and he could have sworn he saw her blush—though that might have been a trick of the passing street lamps.
“I knew he loved this atlas,” she admitted, and there was something so sweet, so innocent in her voice that he felt his body stir again. “He left that love on every page. I didn’t know him—didn’t even know his name—and I always imagined he was some grand adventurer, traveling around the world and facing everything with wonder.” She shook her head. “I know that sounds stupid and cheesy, but—”
“No,” he said quickly, gently. “No, I understand.”
She smiled, but she was no longer looking at him, and he knew her well enough to sense her embarrassment. He’d known when he came here that it would be difficult seeing her, but he’d expected that challenge to come in the form of the burning hunger for her that had never quite left his system—a hunger that even now throbbed through his veins, just being close to her again. He’d always been drawn to her, and he’d known he’d have one hell of a time not grabbing her and pushing her up against the wall at first sight, but he hadn’t fully anticipated the depth of the tenderness he’d still feel for her. She didn’t belong in the middle of this mess.
“What about the men chasing us?” she asked. “If you—or your team—just figured this out, then how do these men know?”
“That’s what I’d like to find out,” he muttered. But in his gut, he knew the truth. They’d been betrayed by one of their own—and there was only one person who could have done it. They were lucky that nothing else had been compromised—and that no one had been seriously injured—in the incident in Prague. The appearance of Nash’s guys here meant their enemies weren’t planning on letting this one go.
Just get Charlie away from everything as soon as you can, he told himself.
“If I’d known any of this about the atlas, I never would have given it to you,” he said. “I’m going to make sure you get somewhere safe. Do you have family or friends you can stay with? Your mom, maybe?”
Her silence made him realize his mistake immediately.
How the fuck had he forgotten? “She’s not… Fuck, Goose. She isn’t…?”
“In March,” she said, her voice suddenly cold. Distant.
Fuck. He’d known when he left that Charlie’s mom had been sick, but he hadn’t thought about the inevitable outcome of that.
He wanted to pull the car to the side of the road. Wanted to take her in his arms and hold her and let her spill everything to him, the way she once did. Wanted to kiss away her tears and draw out her sadness with his touch until she’d forgotten all of the pain, forgotten everything but the comfort of his body.
But before he could do it, she said, “Where are you going?”
He forced his mind back to the issue at hand. “Wherever you need me to take you.”
“No, I mean where are you going with the atlas? Where’s your team?”
“Most of them are already in Croatia, waiting for me.” He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “We didn’t anticipate that I’d run into trouble over here, or there’d be others here with me. But don’t worry—those guys only want the atlas. Once I’m away with it, they’ll have no reason to bother you.” And if they did, he’d personally hunt them down and exact his own brand of justice.
Charlie was silent for a long moment, and then, “I want to come with you.”
He was so surprised he nearly slammed his foot down on the brake pedal. “No. Absolutely out of the question.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s dangerous here! Men just broke into my house!”
She had a point, but he wasn’t about to have this discussion. “It’s still safer than where I’ll be going. Besides, you need your passport to get to Croatia, and there’s no way in hell I’m taking you back to that house tonight.”
“As a matter of fact, I have my passport right here,” she said, pulling it out of her purse. “I had to get my driver’s license renewed this week and needed an extra form of ID.”
Shit. He’d walked right into that one. “It’s still out of the question.”
“Why?” she said.
“Becau
se I say it is.” There was no way in hell he was getting her more tangled up in this. “Look, Goose, I—”
“Don’t call me that!” she said. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”
He wanted to argue, but fuck him, she was right. But that didn’t change his decision.
They were both quiet for far too long before she said, “Maybe you should pull over. I’ll find my own way from here.”
He wasn’t about to drop her off in the middle of Atlanta, but he didn’t trust himself to continue this conversation while driving. He pulled into an empty parking lot and killed the engine.
“Look, Charlie,” he said, turning toward her. “I know I had no right to come back here, but you’ve seen how dangerous this is.” And one look at her made him more determined than ever to protect her. This was his sweet, gentle Charlie—she belonged somewhere safe. Somewhere far, far away from this life.
Still, a small part of him couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like to take Charlie along with him—to have her by his side during his days of exploring and have her in his arms again at night. He’d only just been reunited with her, and his cock had wanted one thing and one thing only since she’d opened her door and he’d realized she was even more beautiful than he remembered. The idea of walking away from her now seemed insane.
Stop being a selfish idiot, he told himself. She can’t come with you. Stop pretending otherwise.
But before he could tell her so, the corners of her mouth curled up.
“Your opinion on the matter is all well and good,” she said, “but you’ve forgotten one thing.” She took the atlas from her lap and tucked it halfway behind her. “I still have the atlas, and I have no intention of letting it go.”
— THREE —
Split, Croatia
This was, quite possibly, the stupidest thing she’d ever done.
Or the best.
She was in Croatia. Standing on Croatian soil. Breathing Croatian air. It felt like a dream—though the twenty-one straight hours of travel she and Jackson had just endured were probably partially to blame for that. Two restless flights and a layover after leaving Atlanta, the two of them stood outside the airport in Split, a small city on the Croatian coast.
She was still in shock that Jackson had agreed to let her come. When she’d threatened to keep the atlas, she’d half expected him to leap across the car and wrestle it out of her hands anyway. He could have easily overpowered her. Instead, he’d just stared at her—long enough to make her squirm in her seat and make her entire body go hot—before giving a single nod of agreement. She still had no idea what was going on, but she wasn’t about to question it. This was her chance to have the adventure she’d always dreamed of, wasn’t it?
If she was being honest, though, for every ounce of excitement she felt, there was an equal measure of fear. For a moment back in Jackson’s car, she’d felt wild and reckless and brave. She’d wanted to see the world. To do something crazy and unexpected. But she’d also been terrified. In a night, her safe, boring world had imploded. She was still trying to process everything she’d just learned. And the thought of sitting and waiting at a friend’s house, not knowing what was going on, was far worse than the alternative.
Or so she thought at the time. Now? Her heart was pounding in a way that she couldn’t contribute entirely to excitement.
She clutched her purse a little closer. The bag was just large enough to fit the atlas, and she was afraid to let it out of her grip. Jackson hadn’t asked for it yet, though she’d thought he might.
She glanced over at him. He’d called someone when they landed, and now he was scanning the handful of cars and buses that pulled by. He was looking away from her, so she took the moment to study him in the dawn light. She was still having trouble getting over the subtle changes in him. His bigger muscles were one thing, of course, but he also carried himself differently now. He’d always had a certain worldliness about him—she’d known, the very first time she’d looked into his eyes, that he’d seen things and done things she’d never understand—but there was a depth to it that hadn’t been there before. There was a wariness, an alertness—like he was always ready for trouble. He’d changed so much in these last nine months. It was almost like looking at a stranger.
He was a stranger when you were together, she told herself. She’d tried not to think too hard about his mysterious absences when they were a couple, but never in her wildest dreams would she have guessed the sort of life he was actually leading. She still wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t a joke.
As if he could sense her thinking about him, he suddenly looked back at her. She turned away, embarrassed at being caught staring. She didn’t want him to think she was checking him out. There were a lot of complicated feelings going on in her chest right now, but that didn’t change what had happened between them. She couldn’t forgive him for the way he’d left things.
“My teammate Leo is coming to get us,” he said. “He’ll be taking us down to the boat.”
“Boat?” Her eyes flicked back to him.
He nodded. “The guys have one ready to go. I told you that we knew Rinaldi met his fiancée in the Croatian isles. We’re just waiting for the atlas to tell us exactly where.”
It wasn’t a direct request for the atlas, but she shifted uncomfortably just the same. Somehow he’d moved without her realizing it, and now he towered over her. He reached out, and for a split second she thought he was going for the atlas—he was so much bigger and stronger that it would be easy for him to take it away from her—but instead he reached for her shoulder. His fingers paused an inch away from her skin.
“Your strap fell,” he said.
Oh. On their layover at Gatwick Airport, she’d taken the opportunity to purchase something other than her ratty sweats to wear, but the options had been limited. She’d finally settled on a tank dress with “LONDON” printed across the chest, but it was at least a size too big.
She reached for the strap, but Jackson had finally decided to move. Her fingers brushed his, and she yanked her hand away while he fixed the strap himself. And then he lingered, letting his rough, calloused thumb rest against the bare skin of her shoulder.
When she tilted her face up, she saw a look she knew all too well. A look that even now made her stomach flip-flop. Jackson had never been afraid to make it clear when he wanted something. And the want in his eyes right now was as intense and as raw as it had been the very first time he’d grabbed her and crushed her against him in need. It was the same look he’d shown her on that very last night, when he’d made love to her as if the world were ending before disappearing into the dawn without a word.
No.
She jerked away from him, stumbling backwards away from that touch. From that look.
“Charlie,” he said, and there was something in his voice—a rawness, an edge—that made her shiver.
She backed away another step. “I can’t.”
“You can’t what?” There was a touch of humor in his voice now, though his eyes were still dark with hunger. Suddenly, he frowned. “You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”
“No,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t matter.” Honestly, she’d only been on a handful of dates since Jackson had left her—and none of them had been good. But he wasn’t allowed to walk back into her life after all these months and act like he still wanted her. He had left her.
She could feel him staring at her, though she’d dropped her eyes to her sandals—another airport purchase—and shifted further away. In her mind, she could still see those handwritten words he’d left her: I hope you find that man who can love and support you the way you deserve to be loved and supported. I’m sorry I ever let you believe that man might be me.
He’d walked away. Broken her heart. And given her the biggest bullshit explanation in the history of bullshit explanations. She refused to put herself through that again.
“Charlie,” he said, softer this time. He closed the dista
nce between them once more, and her heart nearly stopped.
Be strong, she told herself, though she was finding it hard to move or speak.
But a car suddenly stopped at the curb in front of them, and a man climbed out. Jackson went on the alert immediately, spinning around and placing himself between her and the new arrival.
But almost as quickly as he’d tensed up, his shoulders relaxed.
“Leo,” he said with a laugh. “Fuck, man. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Well, good morning to you, too.” The other man came up and clapped Jackson on the back, grinning. Even considering the very complicated things Charlotte was feeling toward Jackson right now, it was hard not to notice how attractive this stranger was—and it didn’t help that he was wearing nothing but a pair of tattered khaki shorts. He’d clearly spent a lot of time in the sun, and his deep tan only emphasized the hard planes of his wide chest. His dark, wavy hair flopped across his eyes.
And then those eyes moved to her.
“So this is her, is it?” he said, still grinning as he looked her up and down. “The little troublemaker?”
Charlotte felt herself blush as Jackson knocked the other man on the side of the head.
“Charlie, this is Leo. He’s an idiot.” He released his friend. “Leo, this is Charlie—Charlotte.”
Suddenly, the new arrival—Leo—had her hand, and as he bowed over her fingers, he also seemed to have acquired a thick Italian accent.
“A pleasure, mi bella,” he said before his lips touched her skin. Her heart fluttered a little as his mouth brushed her knuckles, but she suspected her body might also be reacting to the way Jackson had suddenly stepped closer, right up against her side.
He’s jealous, she realized. Or, if not quite that, then at least a little possessive of her. And her suspicions were only confirmed when Jackson grabbed Leo by the back of the neck and yanked him upright again.
