Page 32 of Croatia Collateral

Dax didn’t want the kiss to end.

He pressed his hips against hers, his cock straining against the fly of his trousers.

If only they were on vacation, not on a mission.

He’d take her into his arms and not let go for a long time. Past morning, past a weekend and into the rest of his life.

When he had to break free and breathe, he leaned back, staring down into her passion-filled eyes and wished he could stay.

The cell phone in his pocket vibrated, jerking him back to the present.

Giva must have felt the vibration. She backed away, her arms falling to her sides, her gaze strained.

Dax’s gut clenched as he stared at the text message across his phone screen.

Finally, the wait was over.

“It’s time,” Dax whispered. “I have to go.”

Chapter 7

Giva’s heart raced, pounding against her ribs as she watched Dax read the text. “What does it say?”

“Hold on,” Dax said. “Let me warn Dmytro.”

She held her breath as he texted Dmytro.

When he finally glanced up, he said. “I’m to meet them at the base of the Jesuit stairs at nine o’clock. The challenge is fall down seven times, the response, stand up eight.”

His words were like a punch to Giva’s gut. “That’s a Japanese proverb,” she said. “My father used to tell me that when I failed at something. It means to keep trying.”

Dax’s cell phone dinged again. He read the message aloud. “Apparently, the German and the Italian just got their notice. Peter is following them.”

“Why are they moving if you’re to meet at the Jesuit stairs,” Giva asked. “They’re already there.”

“I don’t know,” Dax said. “Maybe whoever is calling the shots doesn’t want everyone to show up at the same place. That would make it too easy to take out the group all at once.”

Another text pinged Dax’s cell phone. He frowned down at the screen. His brow cleared. “Fearghas just made it back to the hotel. He’ll meet me in the lobby.”

Dax shrugged into his jacket and pulled on the other shoe that matched the one Dmytro had altered with the packet of invisible ink.

Giva quickly stripped out of her clothes and dressed in all black, including black running shoes. She dragged her hair up onto the crown of her head, slipped a knit beanie cap over it and pulled the cap down, covering every black strand. She had just finished dressing when Dax headed for the door.

“Wait,” she said.

He paused as she dug in her backpack and removed a narrow sheath containing a slim black knife.

“Take this,” she said.

Dax shook his head. “They’ll strip me of all metal.”

“It’s not metal,” she insisted. “It’s a hard plastic knife. It won’t set off the metal detectors. I’ve carried it through many airports and never got stopped.” She pressed it into his hand. “Strap it to your calf.”

“What if they frisk me?” he asked.

She shrugged. “So, they take a plastic knife. I can buy another.”

His fingers closed around it and her hand, pulling her close enough to brush his lips across hers in a gentle kiss. Then he bent to strap the sheath to his ankle and covered it with his pant leg. When he straightened, he pulled her into his arms. “Thank you. Please be safe.”

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