shared since they met funneled into those hours and made the night so much more memorable.
What was she going to do?
He would just keep returning. And what would happen if he returned at the wrong moment and was seen? What if . . .
If she told him what she knew and made him promise to stay out of sight. Or devised a plan where he had to stay out of sight to keep her safe . . .
And what of Claire and Sasha? Maybe they could find dirt on Friedrich, the man who had put a hole in her, something she could hold over him so he ponied up the information on who put the hit on her?
Isn’t that what she really needed to make the man talk?
Once again, she looked at Leo.
If someone came to her right then, threatening Leo, would she talk?
She was so screwed.
Olivia set her hand in the space between their seats and tried to ease the constant tension that lived between her shoulder blades. She wasn’t going to stop any of them from getting involved.
Controlling that involvement was her only choice.
Maybe she could get out of this without someone taking a bullet for her.
If she hadn’t realized how foolish it was to get involved with someone before, she sure understood it now.
But just like with Amelia, she didn’t know what was coming. There was no warning with her. At least with Leo . . . and the others, she knew the imminent risk. They knew to watch over their shoulders. Even more . . . Leo and Neil’s team were all seasoned. They could take care of themselves. Maybe not against an assassin’s bullet . . .
She sighed, trying to push that image out of her head when Leo silently slid his hand in hers and squeezed.
Four hours into the drive and they were just outside of Prague when Olivia allowed him to take the wheel so she could sleep.
When Leo asked if there was a particular route she wanted to use, she told him there wasn’t a reason to zigzag until they were leaving.
He opened a map on his phone. “So stay on the 50.”
She nodded. “Avoid Vienna.” She pointed to his map. “We’ll cut through Slovakia to get to Hungary.”
Instead of giving any reason for her to believe he had no idea where they were headed, he nodded and took the wheel. “Vienna sounds romantic.”
“Just drive, Grant.”
It wasn’t long before she was sound asleep in the passenger seat, her hands wrapped in his jacket and tucked under her cheek as a pillow.
She was hedging.
He felt it when she let him in the car and confirmed it when he took her hand and she didn’t stop him.
When they stopped to get gas, and he used the bathroom and she was still there . . . he breathed.
There he was, driving through countries instead of counties toward complete uncertainty and he couldn’t stop smiling.
If for no other reason than he knew exactly where she was, and for now . . . she was safe.
For almost a month that hadn’t been the case.
He never wanted that to happen again.
She slept for two solid hours before opening her eyes and doing a cat stretch.
Olivia was beautiful when she was waking up. “Where are we?”
“In the middle of nowhere, but it sure is beautiful.” Rain had started to fall, slowing the drive slightly.
A road sign passed, and she looked at her map with a yawn.
“Have you gotten any sleep since you left Colorado?”
She looked at him, blinked several times.
“Don’t you think you should go into this rested and ready for anything?”
“It’s hard to sleep when someone is trying to kill you,” she told him.
“I’m not going to let that happen. Maybe we get a place outside of town and regroup. We go over your plan.”
She huffed. “Budapest is more than a town.”
So that’s where they were headed.
“Still . . .”
“You’re not wrong.”
“Glad you see it my way. Now, what does one eat in Czechia? I’m starved.”
Two bites in and Olivia apparently made up her mind.
“His name is Friedrich Schmidt. Better known as Mr. Wet and Sloppy.”
They sat across from each other in a small diner in an even smaller town.
“You’re kidding.”
She shook her head. “And I didn’t give him a second chance. Not that it mattered. He moved on within a week, and so did I.” She took a bite and chewed in thought. “We had a lot of classes together.”
“Was he an orphan, too?”
“I don’t remember. I