One More Step

by Colleen Hoover

She closed her eyes, letting herself soak in the simple fact she was returning to Bela, so different from the rocky Cana, a kingdom constantly at war, where even the simplest life was a struggle every day.

  She hadn’t realized Edmund had left until a new voice replaced his.

  “I believe you now.” Eirick lifted his gaze to the shore as it neared. “In Cana we hear stories of Bela and the magic wielders, but I didn’t know they were true. It’s like I can feel a heart beating in this place. I left everything behind to save my own life. Some would call me a coward to not fight for my power, my position, but…”

  Ara reached up, running her fingers over his cheek. “You would have been a coward to stay.” Her thumb tapped his lips. “To fight for something you’d already lost. There’s more to this world than power, Eirick.”

  “That’s easy for someone with magic in their veins to say.”

  She pulled her hand back. “In Bela, we don’t use our magic to be powerful. All we’ve ever wanted is peace. It’s why our queen has tried so hard to broker an agreement with Cana, why she has devoted herself to her alliances. We could live in Bela, surrounding ourselves in bliss while ignoring the rest of the Six Kingdoms. But we want everyone to experience what we’ve found.”

  She looked back out at the high cliffs. “It isn’t about power. It’s about love.”

  He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Thank you for sharing this with me, for saving my life.”

  She drew him in for a deeper kiss, breaking away long enough to whisper against his lips. “Don’t worry, Lord Eirick, I’ll always be here to save you.”

  A chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “I don’t doubt that.”

  As they watched their future in Bela near, Ara realized she was ready for her fight to end. She’d served as a general, leading her father’s men, and then as a spy. She’d seen multiple wars and killed too many warriors.

  Fighting was her duty, her job.

  But it didn’t have to be, not anymore.

  Now, she prepared for a different kind of life. One with a certain warlord by her side.

  Who was she kidding?

  There’d always be another battle.

  And she’d answer the call.

  Chapter Five

  Ara had only seen Madra once before, when she first took on her mission as a spy. This time, she didn’t marvel at the extravagant palace or the sheer size of the capital. All she had eyes for was the ocean spanning the distance between Madra and Bela.

  Three days later, they boarded a ship with Edmund and the other delegates for the two-day journey.

  Eirick didn’t speak much on the trip. He stayed mostly below deck.

  Ara stood at the rail listening to sailors shout their orders as the white cliffs she’d dreamed about came into view, looming over the ocean as its protector.

  She imagined Bela beyond the cliffs, stretching into the distance, a patchwork of green fields and forests. There was no more peaceful place in all the Six Kingdoms.

  Edmund rested his elbows on the rail at her side. “Home.”

  She closed her eyes, letting herself soak in the simple fact she was returning to Bela, so different from the rocky Cana, a kingdom constantly at war, where even the simplest life was a struggle every day.

  She hadn’t realized Edmund had left until a new voice replaced his.

  “I believe you now.” Eirick lifted his gaze to the shore as it neared. “In Cana we hear stories of Bela and the magic wielders, but I didn’t know they were true. It’s like I can feel a heart beating in this place. I left everything behind to save my own life. Some would call me a coward to not fight for my power, my position, but…”

  Ara reached up, running her fingers over his cheek. “You would have been a coward to stay.” Her thumb tapped his lips. “To fight for something you’d already lost. There’s more to this world than power, Eirick.”

  “That’s easy for someone with magic in their veins to say.”

  She pulled her hand back. “In Bela, we don’t use our magic to be powerful. All we’ve ever wanted is peace. It’s why our queen has tried so hard to broker an agreement with Cana, why she has devoted herself to her alliances. We could live in Bela, surrounding ourselves in bliss while ignoring the rest of the Six Kingdoms. But we want everyone to experience what we’ve found.”

  She looked back out at the high cliffs. “It isn’t about power. It’s about love.”

  He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Thank you for sharing this with me, for saving my life.”

  She drew him in for a deeper kiss, breaking away long enough to whisper against his lips. “Don’t worry, Lord Eirick, I’ll always be here to save you.”

  A chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “I don’t doubt that.”

  As they watched their future in Bela near, Ara realized she was ready for her fight to end. She’d served as a general, leading her father’s men, and then as a spy. She’d seen multiple wars and killed too many warriors.

  Fighting was her duty, her job.

  But it didn’t have to be, not anymore.

  Now, she prepared for a different kind of life. One with a certain warlord by her side.

  Who was she kidding?

  There’d always be another battle.

  And she’d answer the call.

  • • •

  Thank you for reading Spy’s Heart. This novella ties to the Fantasy and Fairytales series where you can find out who these queens pulling the strings are and how they secured their thrones – one of them with Ara’s help.

  Learn more about book 1, Golden Curse, at MichelleLynnAuthor.com

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  8°F

  * * *

  DEBRA ANASTASIA

  ONE

  Her

  ONE MORE STEP would mean certain death. I was willingly walking into the viper pit of assassins I used to work for. There was no quitting, of course. Only death. And I was done running. They were looking everywhere for me and here I was, sashaying onto their private beach, sarong dragging behind me, swishing away my footprints in the sand. I walked over to my lounge on the beach, ready for them to find me. See me. Kill me. The aqua water and the salty smell of the sea were a lovely addition to a last view. If you got to pick one.

  Today I did.

  The legs of the chair were firmly tucked into the white sand as I set my beach bag down. The waiter lined up the three margaritas I’d ordered from my phone earlier on the glass table beside me as I settled in. I murmured my thanks in his language. I was hoping to get through two before I was shot in the back of the head. That's why I was here. Instead of hiding, I came straight to them. A sacrifice on a European beach.

  The plush towel under my bum was as soft as a bunny. My skin glistened as I rubbed in my suntan lotion instead of sunblock. Screw worrying about skin cancer anymore. The coconut smell wafted up when I shifted my legs.

  Everything was in hyper focus. The thin dusting of sand on the sole of my foot looked like the sugar on a Christmas cookie.

  I’d never see another holiday season. I’d made my peace with it. My soul was ready.

  In a moment like this, every deep breath was a gift. My hands weren’t shaking as I grabbed my glass and sipped the drink again. I licked the salt from my lips. This drink was a perfect balance between tart citrus, sweet syrup and the distinctive flavor of premium gold tequila. I noticed the exact part of my tongue that experienced the addictive tang from the salt. I loved salt.

  Kids were playing in the distance. Not too close, as this beach was private and blocked off. But I could hear them above the breaking of the gentle waves of the surf.

  I was grateful to them when whatever they were doing forced them into fits of laughter. What a way to go. I had no pain. At twenty-seven, I was healthy. In my bikini, I was strong. And lovely. I looked at myself kindly, finally.

 
I toasted the sea with my lifted glass. “To finally seeing the beauty in the moment. God, forgive me for not figuring it out sooner than this.”

  Another deep gulp. This margarita was made of angels’ blood because there was nothing quite as good.

  I licked off the salt on the rim of my second glass before finishing my first. Every second counted.

  I had no illusions of going to heaven, if there was such a place. People like me were in for eternal torment if sentences like that were carried out spiritually. I’d become an assassin as a means to an end. My sister and I were fifteen and thirteen when she was kidnapped by masked men as we walked down our street together. Fear made me bolt, while hers made her freeze. I was left behind with sadness and confusion that turned to determination and viciousness as I grew older without her.

  I set the glasses down and glanced at my bikini top. The hum of the beautiful foreign language filtered through the air from a distance. I didn’t translate it. Instead, I stuck to English in my thoughts. But it did remind me that here, in this country, a lot of women went to the beach topless.

  After pulling on the end of the string that had been in a bow behind my neck, I tugged my red top off, shaking my shoulders a little and smiling at the freeness of my breasts. This beach belonged to the Syndicate, the company that had a need for assassins and secrecy. They ran a very exclusive hotel here as well, so they could carry out their business in private. It was a good front, because it was real. By catering to the rich, famous, and infamous, they were able to demand privacy for their guests. And they could do so, so much more under the cover of protecting the reputations of their patrons. They could move bodies, bury henchmen, and store victims. And they could make wicked margaritas. I had used their vast information of the underworld to my advantage. I played them and found the men who had taken my sister in this very city.

  They’d barely remembered her when I had them tied to chairs in a warehouse. Until the tallest recalled that they’d killed her—he was pretty sure, anyway. I wasn’t proud of what I did to them next. It was efficient. It was punishing. And it ended in their deaths, of course.

  But what was there now? Nothing. I had nothing left to fight for. My beautiful sister, whom I’d fought for everyday since I’d last laid eyes on her, was truly gone.

  I tilted the lounge chair back a bit and reclined with it. I closed my eyes and let the sun turn my lids red. It was toasting me like a snake on a rock. I pulled my sunglasses from the top of my head and shielded my eyes. No matter what type of life you’d lived, or how badass you thought you were, knowing that a gun was trained on you was a bone rattler. I slowed my heartbeat when I noticed it was elevated.

  I would die calmly.

  I would die beautiful.

  I would die in peace.

  I was about to die young.

  TWO

  Him

  I FELT LIKE the tourist I was. I was even wearing Crocs, for crap’s sake. But this was where I needed to be. Despite the gorgeous setting, this tropical beach in Europe, I was staring at my phone, waiting for an update.

  Lexa’s test results were due in. My whole extended family was waiting for the group text that would tell us if there was any good news.

  Pediatric cancer was a force to be reckoned with. My niece, Lexa, was only seven. What had started as a cold turned into a diagnosis that stopped us all in our tracks.

  When a child’s life is in danger, we all want to be Superman. Nothing like having her enemy be her own body. I pictured her red hair and green eyes, so much like her mother.

  My brother’s wife was clearly the dominant gene provider. The only thing about Lexa that was Paul’s was her tendency for risk-taking. She’d be the first one in any haunted house, down any waterslide, and couldn’t wait to be tall enough to ride the loopy roller coasters.

  And I adored her. From the second I laid eyes on my niece, I was a puddle.

  When Paul and Manda sat me down to explain their predicament, I knew they were in trouble. The kind of trouble they prayed to never be in.

  Paul had lost his job three months before Lexa’s diagnosis. Lost his health care benefits. Manda had part-time work making crafts that she sold on Etsy. She made decent money, but not enough to cover the supplemental insurance while Paul looked for a job. It was also not necessarily steady money.

  I pitched in, of course. Paying for the supplemental insurance was my solution. As a teacher, it was a stretch. I sold my Nissan and got a beater, then wrote checks to my brother every month.

  And then things went from bad to worse. This time the meeting was just Paul and I at a bar. He was clearly sloshed. While I was paying for their insurance, Paul explained, he was using credit cards to buy the supplemental instead. And his idea of a second job had been online gambling with the money I’d contributed. He’d wanted to flip a quick profit. When he looked at me with broken eyes, I realized that my big brother had made a massive error in judgment.

  When I asked him how much he’d lost, he told me that he was two grand in the hole. That wasn’t counting the credit cards. It was like I could feel fate wrapping her hands around my neck. He was miserable and sorry and, well…destroyed.

  My whole life, Paul was the strong one. I went to him for advice so many times. And now he was off the rails. Maybe the grief and worry had driven him insane. Not that I blamed him. Shit, I’d even contemplated robbing a bank when I found out that Lexa’s best shot at survival was a treatment that was expensive and far away.

  Traveling to New York every weekend, the car services, airline tickets, hotels – the expense was crazy.

  Between the car services, airline tickets, and hotels? It was crazy.

  But things went from worse to absolute shit, because Paul had paid for the treatment up front. When I questioned him how—with a maxed-out credit card and gambling debts—he’d managed it, he confessed that he found a shady loan company. They’d given him seventy thousand dollars.

  He cried for a little while after revealing the amount.

  “What would you pay to save your little girl’s life?” In between sobs he told me the insane interest rate. And that he’d been unable to scrape together even a single payment to them. I couldn’t fight with him. We had to do something.

  And then he told me he had a plane ticket to Europe to meet with the owners of the company. Now he had no idea what to do. I didn’t have time to even see if I could borrow the money legit, because the plane to Europe left in the morning.

  I took his ticket. I took his passport. The men in our family are like carbon copies of each other. I took his ID. I took my brother’s place on that plane.

  He was my brother. I had to protect him. And more importantly, I had to save Lexa.

  So, I was here to hopefully meet a dangerous dude to plead my case in this fancy hotel. I did not fit in at all. I was here to beg for empathy. To hope that these men would understand that teachers don’t make a lot of money. That I would pay back my brother’s bill. Somehow. Even if I had to work three jobs.

  I’d been instructed to sit in a lounge chair on the beach and wait. I sludged over to a white one that was sort of next to a woman. The sand flooded my Crocs.

  I'd met my brother in the bar after going on a bike ride. I stole his identity when he went to the bathroom. I always just wore my Crocs to drive my car home from my favorite trail, because my bike shoes had clips to snap into the pedals of my mountain bike. I’d had no time to change. Or go home. Or feed my fish. I was wearing a yellow bike jersey and bike shorts. And Crocs. I got on the plane as I was. It didn’t matter. Until it did.

  I was obviously out of my element. This private beach was clearly frequented by rich people. Designer labels seemed to be on everything.

  I flopped down in the lounge chair, leaving my Crocs in the sand. They were going to call me. Both Manda and Paul and the loan sharks. I kept my phone gripped in my left hand even though I had the volume up. I didn’t want to miss a thing, and the sun was interfering with my screen. I
knew it would vibrate if I had a message. I looked around. The woman one chair over shifted and I noticed she was completely topless.

  My dick and my man brain were immediately happy. My rational brain realized that it was probably creepy for her to have me sit so close. I started to apologize then stopped because I didn’t speak the language.

  She rolled her head in my direction and pushed her sunglasses down to look over them. “Don’t say anything.”

  “Oh. You’re American?” I looked at my screen again. I accidently flashed the sun into my eyes.

  “When I want to be. Go somewhere else. I want to be left in peace.” She pushed her sunglasses up and turned her face forward.

  “I have to wait here. They told me I have to. So, sorry, I won’t bother you.”

  She huffed and settled back. “Your funeral.”

  I didn’t have time for gorgeous, sizzling hot bitches with exquisite racks. I was an American (full-time) teacher here to deal with the big dogs to save my niece.

  My phone rang. It was my brother. I had a moment of concern that it wouldn’t connect, because I was out of the country, but it did. I would worry about the extra costs later. What was a few extra bucks when I was about to bargain for 70K plus interest?

  “How is she?”

  Paul was sobbing. “The program is working. They think it shows a lot of promise.”

  I exhaled from the bottom of my feet to my balls and then out of my mouth. Man, we needed good news.

  “She wants to talk to you.” I heard the rustling as the phone was passed to her.

  “Uncle Case! Did you hear? Daddy says that I’m doing great.” Her voice carried over my phone, but I didn’t care. Hearing joy from her was everything.

  “Great job, Princess Puddles. I knew you could do it. You’re my fighter.” I rubbed under my eyes as tears started to form. A chance. That’s all she needed. Give her an inch and she’d take a mile, even if we were dealing in miracles.