Page 42 of Hidden Attraction

Alyssa raised an eyebrow as the man stood, already handing Chase a set of keys. “You planned this?”

He accepted the keys with a flick of his wrist, his shoulder lifting in a lazy shrug. “Scooters are everywhere. Fast, quiet, forgettable.”

He pressed a folded bill into the old man’s weathered palm with a nod that saidwe never spoke. The man responded with a subtle dip of his chin and slipped back into his chair like smoke—gone without a word.

Alyssa slid onto the seat behind Chase, her legs straddling the narrow frame as her fingers curled around his waist, anchoring herself to his body. The scooter sputtered, then roared to life with a reluctant growl. A second later, they were cutting into the chaotic rhythm of the street, two shadows who knew the pulse of the foreign city like they belonged there.

The city blurred around them—sunbaked stone buildings, Arabic signs faded from decades of dust and sun, the constant hum of voices, engines, and the sharp calls of vendors peddling everything from figs to fake Rolexes.

Chase’s gaze never stopped moving—rearview mirror, dim alley, rooftop edge. He felt Alyssa lean in, her mouth close to his ear, warm breath fanning his skin.

“You’re full of surprises,” she murmured.

He didn’t answer, just let a slow, wicked grin tug at his mouth. The scooter rattled beneath them, eating up ground with every bump and jerk, but it didn’t matter. They had what they needed—speed and just enough cover to vanish into the noise. In a place like this, anonymity was more than an advantage. It was survival.

And it was pretty fun too.

The scooter climbed steadily, winding through narrow lanes until the city unfurled beneath them—sun-bleached and sprawling, a mirage of warmth and life. At first glance, it was all golden light and textured beauty: rooftops stacked like ancient puzzle pieces, laundry fluttering like flags, and the call to prayer echoing from a minaret in the distance.

Alyssa’s gasp of delight sent a trickle of warmth through his chest.

But Chase didn’t see only the postcard view.

He saw the shadows clinging to the mouths of alleys, the hardened stares of men hunched outside cafés. The unspoken anxiety in the way doors closed just a little too quickly behind them.

The city breathed in a rhythm. Alyssa may see life aboveground, but he saw the secrets buried beneath. Somewhere among these crumbling walls and sun-drenched courtyards was the truth they’d come to uncover, and it wasn’t going to give itself up easily.

Even as the sun bathed the streets in a burnished glow, casting the illusion of calm, the air buzzed with something sharp and unseen. The people lived their lives, bartering and praying and sipping tea in the slanting beams—but Julian knew better.

This city wore its scars beneath its skin, and every turn could lead them closer to the kind of danger that didn’t announce itself with shouting or gunfire. It moved quieter, waited longer. But he and Alyssa weren’t here to play it safe. They were here to drag those secrets into the light.

As they rounded a corner on the road leading to their destination—the Red Cross—her thighs clamped tighter behind him. Her palms flattened on the planes of his chest, branding him with the heat of her touch.

In the military, nothing was one hundred percent. There was always a chance for error. When Con questioned Chase about the ambassador, he would say with ninety-nine percent confidence that Alyssa hadno knowledgeof the security breach prior to the kidnapping attempt.

And he could say with ninety-nine percent confidence that once he got her alone…she would look at him the way she had the night before when he buried his cock deep within her tight, clutching walls.

He dodged around a cart full of produce, and several kids chased after the scooter, laughing and waving.

Alyssa issued a carefree laugh, throaty and filled with a lust for life that he burned to see more of from the uptight, buttoned-up ambassador.

“This is just like Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant inRoman Holiday! Only not in Italy.”

His lips edged upward in a smile, but he couldn’t be distracted from his role of protector. He must be aware of potential danger at all times. He’d seen too much shit.

With another glance in his side mirror, he saw the kids fading into the distance, going back to whatever game they were playing. The closer they got to the Red Cross, the more he sank into thoughts of that day.

Echo team had been in control of the hostage situation that Alyssa was negotiating the first time their lives intercepted.

There wasn’t much question in Chase’s mind that the terrorist known as Cypher was behind the attempted attack back at the hotel. Question was, did he want Alyssa or the last member of Echo team?

He slowed the scooter as they approached the turn.

The woman was killed while the hostage negotiation was underway. It could be coincidence…or it could be the thread that tied everything together.

The Red Cross station sat behind a battered gate, its white walls streaked with windblown dust and the heat of too many summers. A red cross, dull and faded, was painted on the side. The place didn’t look like much, but Julian knew better than to judge by appearances. In cities like this, the quietest corners often carried the loudest stories.

He parked the scooter and touched Alyssa’s thigh, urging her to climb off. She slipped off the frame and adjusted the silk scarf on her head, smoothing the fabric that the wind had tugged at.

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