Page 3 of Fight Or Flight

Natalie laughed and shook her head. “I probably won’t even tell him. We barely speak to each other. His English and my Italian are way too spotty.”

Natalie moved around the room, collecting the last pieces of garbage and throwing them into the bin. Then she gave Jess another hug.

“Thank you so much for the party and for everything with Alira.”

“I only told her the truth. You’re the best we have.”

“I hope you find a replacement that’s more patient than me.”

“That won’t be difficult. Not sure I’ll find someone who chooses better day songs, though.”

“It’s a skill,” Natalie said with a smile. In fact, choosing a song to play at the beginning of each day on tour was one of the best parts of her job. She would hear songs from years ago and remember travellers.

“You must be exhausted,” Jess said. “Go get some rest. I’ll lock up.”

Natalie nodded, then walked toward the door and grabbed her still-soaked suitcase by the handle. She’d just swung open the heavy glass door when Jess’s voice stopped her.

“Wait,” she said. She came from around the desk, holding out a business card. “I almost forgot with the party and Alira and everything.”

“What’s this?” Natalie took the w hite card with bold black lettering and read it. “Private investigator?” she asked.

“Yeah, he came in here looking for a Natalie, but not your last name. He insisted I give this to you.”

Natalie’s heart ceased. “What . . . what last name did he ask about?”

Jess’s eyebrows shot up. “Monroe. He was looking for a Natalie Monroe.”

The sound of that name coming out of Jess’s mouth was more shocking than if she’d come out of the tube at Piccadilly Circus and seen the Taj Mahal. She never thought she would ever hear that name again.

Ever.

“What did you tell him?”

Jess’s dark eyebrows rose up past the tops of her eyeglass frames. “What the bloody hell is this all about? You’re Natalie Alvarez. I’ve seen your passport.”

“Jess,” Natalie said, taking a calming breath. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him that no one by that name works here.”

Natalie drew in a long breath, forced her tense shoulders to drop. “Good.” She crumpled the card in her fist. “See ya.”

She walked out of the door, leaving Jess speechless and gawking behind her. Jess was the closest thing she had to a friend, but she never spoke about her past, and she wasn’t about to start now.

She turned right on the sidewalk toward her preferred hostel two blocks away before realizing that, if this private investigator knew where she worked, maybe he’d know where she stayed when she was in town.

The thought made her skin crawl, so she doubled back past the office and jogged six blocks in the rain to a smaller hostel in a dodgy neighbourhood that she rarely stayed at. With any luck, she could sleep there for five days and be back on the coach bus before this guy ever knew he’d missed her.

The moment Natalie stepped into the hostel from the street, she knew she was in trouble. It had been almost a year since she’d been there. And the place was a ghost town.

Completely empty.

The other hostel would be packed with travellers from all over the world, shoulder to shoulder in the lobby, sitting on big cushions at low tables, drinking beer and playing board games. She could blend into the crowd there.

Here, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

She made her way to the front desk, then stood for thirty seconds, waiting for the attendant to look up. When he didn’t, she rapped her knuckles hard on the counter. Finally, he pulled his attention away from his phone and coated Natalie with it. He looked her up and down. As he took in her thin, wet clothes, a gross smile came over his face.

“Hiya, need a bed?”

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