Page 50 of Inside the Maelstrom: Part One
Viva snapped the book shut, giving me a sour look. “Then go. I can do India by myself.”
I frowned, her words like a punch to the chest, but I quickly smoothed my face into a neutral expression. “Go for it. I’m pretty sure your black AMEX won’t work on the Air France website though.”
Otto huffed, ushering us both out of the back of the bookstore. “Not going to lie, I thought it might’ve been Suez.”
I followed along behind him, now checking out both his ass and hers. “Why the hell would anyone go to Suez? I mean, Egypt is nice, but Evan would have a fucking coronary.” Sampson snorted, but didn’t disagree.
Otto gave us both a disappointed look. “Well, if either of you picked up a book, sayAround the World in Eighty Days, you’d know that we aren’t the first people to do a mad dash across the world in order to win a ridiculous prize.”
Viva cut him an angry look, and I was going to bet that none of us would be getting laid tonight. She slammed the book down onto the counter, and the bookstore owner looked at us, alarmed.
Viva forced a smile onto her face. “Just this, please.”
The owner smiled, picking up the tattered illustrated copy ofFrom the Earth to the Moon.“Oh,” she said, her face creasing between the eyes. “I didn’t think this one would ever sell. Too worn. But he said someone would come to collect it eventually.” She gave our group a considering look. “I didn’t expect you though.”
Aviva’s whole body basically vibrated with excitement. “You know him? The man who wrote these notes?” She flicked open the book and pointed to the inscription in the back. The writing was loopy and smudged, like he’d done it quickly. “What was his name? How long ago was he here?”
Sampson reached out, wrapping a hand around her forearm. “Easy, Aviva.”
The bookstore owner’s gaze bounced around us once again, confusion painting her features. “I didn’t get his name. It must have been, oh, nearly a year or two ago now. Maybe a little longer?” She shook her head. “Said I had to add this book to the collection. That someone would ask for it eventually. He was very compelling.”
“You must know something else? What did he look like? Did he leave an address or a number to contact him? There must be something!” Aviva’s voice rose an octave, and she gripped the counter.
“I’m sorry,mademoiselle. He was American, tall. Dark hair and eyes. I cannot tell you much else. He was… intense,oui?” She said something in a flurry of French to Otto, who nodded and smiled politely, his words soothing. She pushed the book at him, refusing the money from Sampson. “No. Take it. I was just holding it anyway.”
“Merci,”Otto replied, before grabbing Aviva’s shoulders and pushing her out the door.
“Otto, she had to know something else. He’s got to be here, in Paris—we have to ask more questions, check more of the books.”
Evan was leaning against the stone shopfront, but snapped to attention when a stressed-looking Aviva appeared in front of him. “What the fuck happened?” he growled.
I tilted my head at him, trying to work out if he was being derogatory to Aviva or was just worried about her wellbeing. Evan had been with Sampson as long as I’d known him. He was a big brother to us at times, a safety net a lot of the time—not just for Sam but for us all. But he was old as fuck.
“Nothing,” Sampson snapped. “We found what we were looking for. Let’s go.”
Hmm, tense... What was that about? I didn’t think about it too much more as Evan hustled us all back to the car, like the threat to us was anything other than the five-foot-two ball of crazy striding in the middle of our group.
She slid into the backseat of the car, the paper bag-encased book clutched to her chest. She was like fucking Smeagol with his precious—she was losing it. I looked at Otto. “Never thought I’d say this, man, but is she taking her meds?” I muttered under my breath, and he nodded.
“Yeah, I synced your schedules. She's just…” Yeah, I didn’t have a word for how she was acting right now either. Like she was hopped up on coke and sex with six flight attendants and a performer from Cirque du Soleil.
Not speaking from experience or anything.
“Jesus, is this what I’m like?” I mused, walking to the other side of the SUV.
“Worse,” Otto called, sliding into the car so he missed me telling him to fuck off. Evan and Sampson were arguing quietly in the front seats, and I strained to hear what they were saying. Guess Sampson was breaking the news we were leaving the first world to galavant through freaking Kolkata like Mother Theresa.
“Let’s go! I’m starving, and I get grumpy when I’m hungry,” I yelled at them, and slid into the car beside Aviva. Her wild energy was starting to affect my own. Like bears and bees, my own problems fed off the emotions of the people around me. So I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed Viva, pulled her onto my lap, and kissed the hell out of her.
She squeaked with surprise, which was adorable as fuck, and then she kissed me back. Her soft, pillowy lips danced across mine, tantalising and making promises her body was backing up.
She rolled her hips, and I groaned into her mouth. I kissed the crazy right out of her, sucking it in like it was my favorite poison. Maybe it was, because I felt like I could kiss her for hours. Days.
I stroked up and down her back, soothing her and me, and I made a humming noise under my breath as my heart rate both sped up and evened out.
Nice. This was nice.
“I hate to break this shit up, but Good Girl needs her seatbelt. Get back in your seat, Viva.”
