needed some rest before I delved into whatever this was. The truth was that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see Shannon or not. Our short encounter a decade ago was one of those memories you romanticized until it was the end-all of everything: women, relationships, expectations, the lot of it. I’d kissed Shannon in my dreams a hundred thousand times since then, and I’d fucked more than one woman pretending she was Shannon. That was neither healthy nor fair, to the women I’d bedded or to myself, and my gut told me seeing Shannon would only rip that wound open.
It wasn’t really a wound. More of a faded scar. Something small but momentous that you forgot about until the occasional itch reminded you it was there. Shannon wasn’t an itch, though, and the memory had never faded. I thought of her more often than I wanted to admit, and knowing she was here, just half a mile or so down the road, was going to drive me nuts. As tired as I was, after going without sleep for forty-eight hours, I still tossed and turned. After about five hours, I gave up and got out of bed, showering and pulling on clean clothes.
I hit the street and smiled. Cologne was a great little town and I’d been here on more than one occasion. It was December, so the Christmas markets were open and even early in the morning I caught a whiff of pastries baking. It was a wonderful time of year to be in this part of the world. I loved Europe any time of year, and often toyed with the idea of retiring here someday, but the weeks leading up to Christmas were special. I’d always wondered what it would be like to spend the holidays with someone special, but it had always been too dangerous in my line of work.
Cologne was just as I remembered it, and I smiled to myself as I walked down the street Shannon lived on. Her apartment building was small but a bit more modern than some of the others. The front doors were locked, offering a modicum of security, and I paused to try them, just in case. Definitely locked, which was good. The street was lined with cars, which meant it was busy, and a quick glance in either direction told me traffic would pick up as people got ready for work.
According to Shannon’s mother, she didn’t have a car. The school where she worked was about six blocks away, and I headed in that direction. There was a bakery up ahead and I couldn’t help but go in, smiling at the pleasant-faced woman behind the counter.
“Good morning,” I told her in German. I ordered coffee and indulged in a pastry, taking both to go as I continued down the street. It was chilly this morning and the coffee felt good in my hands.
Shannon’s mother said she usually left for work about seven thirty, and it was just seven now, so I planned to be settled somewhere I could watch her approach the school. It would hopefully also allow me to see if anyone was following her. I hoped not, but that’s why I was here, after all. If I could get rid of the guy, or at least find out what was going on and turn him over to the police, maybe I wouldn’t have to talk to Shannon at all. I could update Mrs. Barrow and go back to Limaj without aggravating any of my virtual scars.
That was laughable. I’d be able to stay away from her about as well as I’d been able to ignore her mother’s plea for help. Samantha Barrow wouldn’t have called me if she hadn’t thought Shannon’s fears were legitimate, and I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. Not on my watch.
I found the school and checked out possible vantage points across the street. There was an office building that would have been perfect had it not been locked up tight. I could’ve gotten in, of course, but this wasn’t an official mission and I needed to be discreet until I knew what was going on.
I was about to cross the street when I saw her. She was walking briskly, her calf-length maroon coat pulled tight around her. Her hair was in a loose braid down her back and she wasn’t wearing glasses, which made me smile. She was as beautiful as I remembered, a decade older but as