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“If I hadn’t said yes to Ziggy when she asked me to hand off that drive to your cousin Tate—if I hadn’t been so desperate to be, I don’t know,more—then I wouldn’t have been on that bridge in Prague. And you wouldn’t have followed me to my hotel room, seen your cousin stabbed and bleeding, and been caught up in his mission to deliver the info—”
“To my brother, hello. Information that hopefully is helping him find his fiancée. So, um—”
“Yeah, but the last thing your brothers—plural—wanted was for you to get involved. And they askedmeto get you home safely.”
“Seriously. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself. Which I told you when you broke into my apartment in Lake Como.” She shook her head. “I should have never gotten on a plane with you to Athens.”
He let that lie there, because maybe not.
“Then again, if I hadn’t, you’d have ended up face-first in your eggs, having a seizure in front of the whole world.”
He sighed. “Yeah. Well, if the ELF finds out that you’re now my girlfriend…”
“Fiancée.”
He offered a small smile. “Just for tonight. Tomorrow you’re getting on a plane—”
“To where, pray tell? Because Ziggy told us to lay low. And methinks that the last twenty-four hours says that maybe she was right.”
He sighed. “I hope she’s tracked down that guy—what was his name?”
“Alfonzo? Aka Alan someone? Ex-CIA spy turned rogue agent? And now I sound like a movie trailer. Good grief.” She leaned back in her chair. “If you should be blaming anyone, it should be me. I was the one who agreed to spy on you at the bridge, thinking you were a traitor.”
“You were duped. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I’m trained to see things. To not miss anything—”
“I don’t think that applies to rooting out spies.” He looked at her. “Unless said spy is also a cornerback from the Prague Lions with his hands in my face, about to trip me.”
She met his gaze. “You’re such a drama queen. Besides, we both know that wasn’t a penalty.”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“You going to tell Coach Max about the seizure?”
“If I do, then…probably that’s the end. The Vienna Vikings will release me, and then I have nowhere else to go.”
She was still looking at him, and he hated the compassion on her face. “I’m sorry.”
“Let’s just focus on not getting shot. Or bombed.”
“Or poisoned.”
He looked at her. “That’s an option?”
“I dunno. I was just adding to your list of potential ways to die.”
“Like setting fire to your hair? Or getting toast out with your fork?”
She blinked. “Dumb Ways to Die.”
“My brother Harry loved that song. It was a PSA from the Metro Trains in Melbourne, Australia. My mum is from Melbourne, so they knew all the words, sang it all the time.”
“What is a two-week-old unrefrigerated pie?”
He frowned.
“It’s in the song. I was confused.”
