Page 14 of Croatia Collateral

His skin was covered in goosebumps when he finally shut off the water. He quickly toweled dry, pulled on his shorts and strode into the bedroom.

The muffled sounds of movement came from the sitting room.

Curious, Dax opened the bedroom door to find Giva seated on the sofa, drinking from a teacup.

She turned toward him, her eyes widening briefly. “Hungry?” she asked, her voice sounding a little strained.

His stomach rumbled. “Actually, yes.”

She motioned toward a tray set on a small table in the corner. “Jasmine had it sent up. She thought your stomach might still be on US time.”

“That was nice of her.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head and crossed the floor to the table. Beneath a metal cover, he found a platter full of meats, cheeses and crackers. Beside the platter was a carafe of hot water and a selection of different flavors of tea.

“If tea isn’t what you want, you’ll find beer and wine in the refrigerator,” Giva said.

Dax grabbed a beer from the small refrigerator, twisted off the top and scooped up the platter of food. He carried them to the coffee table in front of the sofa and set the platter down. “Mind if I join you?”

She tipped her head toward the other end of the sofa. “Please.”

He sat on the cushion, selected a couple of pieces of cheese and meats and popped them into his mouth.

Giva had changed out of the red dress into a baggy T-shirt and leggings. Her luxurious black hair was secured in a messy bun on top of her head, and her face was scrubbed clean of all makeup. She sat with one leg tucked beneath her, sipping her tea.

If Dax had thought she was beautiful before, this different side of her was even more appealing.

“So,” he said, “what’s your story?”

Giva’s dark eyebrows wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone has a story.” He waved a hand. “Where did you grow up? Do you have siblings? Why did you join the military? Why did you leave the military? You know, the usual casual conversation. We’re going to be living in close quarters for the next week or two. We might as well know more about each other.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” As if to end the subject, she took another sip of her tea.

“Okay, I’ll go first to break the ice.” Dax swallowed more of his beer. “My father was a Marine. I was a military brat. We moved around a lot, so I can’t say I grew up in any one place. I have a sister, Virginia, but she’s always been Ginny to me. I joined the military because it was something the men in my family did—my father, his father and his father’s father back several generations. I left the military after the US pulled troops out of Afghanistan.” He lifted his chin. “Your turn.”

Again, she shook her head, staring down into her teacup.

For a long moment, Dax thought she’d refuse to go along with his attempt to get to know each other. “Never mind,” he said, picking out a couple more pieces of cheese and popping them into his mouth for something to fill the awkward silence.

“I grew up in a town south of Tel Aviv with my parents and three siblings, two brothers and a sister. My father was a corporate executive responsible for the company’s global trade. My mother raised us. We went to private schools. I was the oldest daughter. My brother was older than me. Because of his dealings with multiple countries, my father insisted we learn to speak more than one language, starting early in our childhood. I learned English, Russian and Italian.”

“That should come in handy in Dubrovnik,” Dax said.

Giva nodded. “Another reason Jasmine thought of me, besides my resemblance to Sasha Royce.”

“You went to private schools,” Dax prompted. “How did you end up in the military as a Sayeret Matkal?”

“My father wanted his children to go to university, like he and my mother had. He sent my brother to England and me to the US.” She glanced up with a crooked smile. “While my brother went to Oxford, I went to Nebraska. He thought I had a bit of a rebellious tendency, and the Midwest would be someplace I couldn’t get into trouble.”

Dax chuckled. “And did you?”

She nodded. “I’d only been there a year, just getting past my freshman partying ways when I got a call from my aunt who lived in Tel Aviv.” Her glance dropped to the contents of her teacup. “My brother was home from Oxford for a short break. I’d remained in Nebraska, opting out of the return. Hezbollah had launched missiles north toward Tel Aviv.” She looked up, her dark eyes even darker. “The shelling destroyed the entire block where my family lived.”

Dax immediately felt terrible for digging into her background when it obviously caused her distress. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Giva shrugged. “It’s past. I’ve had years to come to terms with the loss and make peace with myself. But I wasn’t at peace back then. I was angry. I went from being an entitled, spoiled girl with no appreciation for the family I had to being alone. I returned to Israel, joined the military and pushed myself hard to make it into the Sayeret Matkal. I wanted a chance to fight back. I wanted the satisfaction of revenge on those responsible for the deaths of my family.”

“And did you get it?” he asked softly.

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