“Maggie Hayes.”
The male voice behind me sends pure adrenaline crashing through my bloodstream. I jerk hard enough that one of the tote bags nearly slips off my shoulder.
The man from the pottery booth stands beside the table now pretending to examine leather collars while his attention stays fixed on me beneath dark sunglasses.
Every instinct inside me screams danger. “You startled me,” I manage tightly.
He gives me a small smile. “Sorry about that.”
Jules immediately steps between us. “How about you get the hell away from her,” he snaps.
The man’s attention moves lazily toward Jules. “Relax.”
“No,yourelax.” Jules plants one hand against the man’s chest and shoves him backward hard enough to make the nearby vendor gasp. “You’ve been followin’ us halfway across the damn market.”
People nearby start looking over. The atmosphere changes fast enough that I feel it straight through my ribs.
The man’s expression darkens beneath the sunglasses.
Then Jules grabs my arm. “We’re leavin’.”
We turn quickly and start speed walking through the crowded aisles while panic pounds so hard inside my chest that my breathing becomes uneven.
“What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know, but I hated his face instantly,” Jules hisses.
I risk one glance backward and immediately wish I hadn’t. The first man is still hanging out near the vendor booth, but farther down the aisle, another man has fallen into step behind us. Every turn we make, he makes too, keeping the same pace through the crowded market.
“Oh my God.”
Jules looks back once and curses beneath his breath. “Run.”
We bolt through the crowded market. People shout in surprise while we run around strollers, shopping carts, and tourists carrying armfuls of bags. The tote bags slam painfully against my legs while my sneakers scrape across the uneven brick pathways. Somewhere nearby, a child starts crying after nearly getting knocked over by our sudden sprint through the crowd.
Behind us, footsteps continue pounding through the crowd at the same pace we’re moving.
“Left,” Jules snaps breathlessly.
We cut through a narrow aisle between two food vendors before turning again toward the fountain courtyard. My lungs burn beneath the heat while adrenaline tears through me, making my hands shake.
“Jules—”
“Keep movin’.”
We round another corner, and both glance back at the same time, but the man is gone. Only tourists crowd the walkway now, families moving between vendor booths while street musicians play beneath the awnings like nothing unusual just happened. Normal afternoon market noise rushes around us while my pulse refuses to slow.
I bend forward, trying to catch my breath as sweat sticks my shirt against my spine. “What the hell just happened?”
“Well, there goes my emotional attachment to farmers markets,” Jules mutters between breaths.
“You’re safe.”
The calm male voice behind us makes me spin around. Ivan approaches from the next aisle over, looking completely composed while Jules and I stand there breathing like we just escaped a kidnapping attempt.
I notice a small bloodstain on his shirt and my jaw drops.
“Where the hell were you?” I demand.
