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Elle pulled on the hat.
The pub was facing Cusco’s huge cathedral. The red-brick building lit up orange in the night, and there was a massive crowd gathered outside it.
“Festival,” Joe said, answering Julia’s unasked question. “Although most nights in Cusco are party nights.”
Julia knew if they turned right, they were a short walk to their last hotel. Joe turned left and took them away from the crowded Plaza de Armas. The cobblestone street was full of tourists and locals. There were traditionally dressed women, their arms full of woven souvenirs, walking amongst the crowds, attempting to sell their wares. At the edge of the road, covered trailers acted as portable stores, selling everything from snacks and drinks to hand-crafted ceramics. Behind the trailers was the grey stone brickwork of the Incas. The irregular stones fit together like massive puzzle pieces. Somehow it fit perfectly to see the Incan stonework merge with the plaster and carved wood of the Spanish architecture that had been built on top of it.
“One day,” Joe said in her ear, “I’m going to bring you back here so you can look all you like.”
Julia blinked up at him, aware that the crowds moved around Joe and no one jostled them. “You mean when we aren’t running for our lives?”
“Yeah.” His smile was devastating. “Hard to be a tourist when you’re running for your life.”
“Hardly a relaxing vacation.”
“Hardly.”
They turned the corner into a narrower street. “The hotel’s at the end of the block,” Joe said.
“Isn’t that a bit close to the last hotel?” Patricia asked.
Ryan had her and Elle wedged between him and the wall, acting as a barrier to everything in their path, as they made their way along the street.
“It’s as safe as anywhere in Cusco right now,” Joe said.
“That isn’t reassuring,” Patricia muttered.
“There it is,” Ryan said. “The Marriott.”
The high stone arches of the hotel came into view, and Julia read the plaque that said the building used to be a convent. “Do you think every hotel in Cusco used to belong to a holy order? Is anyone else bothered by that?”
“Nope.” Ryan held open the door for them.
“The history of societal change from a religious paradigm to a secular one is fascinating,” Patricia said. “You can see it in everything, not only the repurposed buildings, but art, literature, styles of government, everything. The questions are, is the building still sacred when it isn’t being used for holy purpose? Is the art still divine when it isn’t used for worship?”
Julia nodded along with her gran. At least someone was on the same wavelength. She glanced up to see Joe grinning and Ryan gaping at Patricia.
“You really were a professor, weren’t you? I thought that was a nickname or something.”
They groaned and passed him on their way to the reception desk. Joe got two keys and handed one to Ryan.
“Ryan, Elle and Patricia are in something called a mini-suite. We’ll meet you there in an hour. Get cleaned up and have some food. Callum already has a room.”
Julia tugged his hand. “What about me?”
“You’re with me.”
There wasn’t time to process his decree before he was dragging her across the lobby towards the elevator. Julia glanced over her shoulder to see her gran and teammates smiling after her.
The lift door opened and Joe stalked in, taking her with him.
“You could have asked me to come with you.” That was all Julia managed to say before she was pressed up against the wall and Joe was in front of her.
A second later, his mouth was on hers. His kiss was ferocious. It was a claiming. A taking. A branding. It left her weak and desperate for more.
The elevator stopped all too soon, and an older couple smiled at them knowingly as they exited. Joe dragged her down the corridor to their room. He had the door open in seconds. As soon as she was inside, he had her pressed against it.
He kissed her with a desperation that was almost brutal. But somewhere, in the deep recesses of her mind, Julia knew he needed this, and she gave him everything he wanted. Her terrible tourist t-shirt came flying off, followed quickly by her white cotton sports bra.
