by Anne B. Cole
“I need to finish in the store. I won’t be long.” Lorenzo kissed Anya’s cheek then opened the fence to the garden for her. He turned to Thomas as they headed to the store. “Help me with some inventory, and in an hour Anya will—”
The key Lorenzo placed in the lock was not needed. The latch fell off into his hand.
Thomas drew a pistol and motioned for him to go to the side door. Lorenzo picked up a rock as he made his way over. The two men stormed the building. Lorenzo scanned inside. No one was present. A single crate of rum was open. A note propped up against a bottle on the table caught Lorenzo’s eye. He picked it up and read the English scrawl.
‘You know what I want. Return it, and the girl will live.’
Lorenzo’s heart raced as he remembered leaving Anya in the garden. He motioned Thomas to the back room door before running outside. Anya, picking fresh greens, smiled and waved to him. He dropped the rock and began walking toward her when he heard Thomas.
“Lorenzo. In here.”
Lorenzo ran back inside. A pirate had his sword pointed at Thomas, who firmly aimed his pistol. “This slime was in the back room. I say we take him to Kearny.”
“Hel-lo, Lo-ren-zo,” Lubber announced.
“Careful Thomas, he’s quick with the sword,” Lorenzo warned, not taking his eyes off the pirate.
Thomas cocked his pistol.
“Move and I will slit this pathetic sailor’s throat.” Lubber waved the tip of his sword.
Thomas turned to Lorenzo. “Who the hell does he—”
Before Thomas could say another word, Lubber flicked his sword at Thomas’ gun. The pistol flew across the room as Thomas clutched his hand.
“Another American fool,” Lubber triumphed, pointing the sword at Thomas.
“Leave him. Your fight is with me. Kill him, and you will have two hundred sailors after you within the hour.” Lorenzo inched his way toward the counter. Surprisingly, Lubber eased his sword off Thomas.
“Yes. Why should I waste my expertise on stupid filth like this?” He turned his sword toward Lorenzo as his fist hit Thomas hard in the face, dropping him to the floor. Lubber traipsed over and picked Thomas’ gun off the floor. Tucking it into his belt, he waved his sword at Lorenzo. “I have commandeered my ship, and now I want what you stole.”
Lorenzo thought quickly. “I have plenty of rum.” He had managed two steps toward the counter before he felt cold steel against his throat.
“Fool. On that account, we’re even.” Lubber opened his coat, revealing two bottles tucked deep in his pockets.
“Perhaps I could interest you in some vodka or ouzo?” Lorenzo continued.
The pirate laughed, leaning his face into Lorenzo’s. “Hand over the book and the treasure, and the girl will live.”
“She’s safe,” Lorenzo spat back at him.
Lubber took a step back, leaving the sword against Lorenzo’s neck. “Easy to pick as a spring flower.” He grasped a spray of tiny blue flowers out of a vase and then dramatically sniffed. “Sweet, tender, delicious.”
“You’ll not touch her,” Lorenzo threatened.
Lubber laughed again. “You’re in no position to protect the girl.” He playfully poked Lorenzo’s chest with his sword.
“Peter has the book,” Lorenzo grimaced, hoping his friend wasn’t already dead.
“Peter has the book,” Lubber mimicked in a high pitched voice.
“What use is the book? You know where the treasure is,” Lorenzo countered.
“It’s not the treasure I seek. That must be returned. The book has secrets, far more important than mere treasure, my pathetic American.” He had a dreamy, perhaps drunken, look on his face.
Out of the corner of his eye, Lorenzo saw Anya peering in the doorway. He had to keep Lubber’s attention away from her.
“Just what is it you seek, for I do not have the book in my possession? I have read it, something you cannot do.” Lorenzo positioned himself so Lubber’s back was to Anya.
“I don’t need you.” The pirate crumpled the flower in his hand, tossing the pieces over his shoulder. He quickly thrust his sword, narrowly missing Lorenzo, who backed against the counter. A chalky blur flew through the air, striking Lubber in the back of the head. Stunned, he fell to one knee.
Lorenzo bolted to the door, grabbing Anya’s arm as the pirate scrambled to his feet. They ran through the market with Lubber not far behind. Lorenzo turned into an alley, but Lubber called after them. “You can run, but you cannot hide. I will kill you, American.”
“This way.” Anya led him up the steps of the church. Half a dozen people were scattered among the pews. Lorenzo inconspicuously picked up a black shawl from behind one of the praying women and draped it over Anya’s head and shoulders. He led her to the front where two nuns were kneeling.
“Good day, my wife has come to pray for she has many sins.” Lorenzo bowed to the women as Anya glared at him. When he took a step away, she began to follow. “My love, you must repent.” One of the nuns guided Anya back to the pew. The door in the back of the church flew open as Lorenzo disappeared through the door at the front.
The pirate’s heavy boots clunked down the aisle. Anya buried her face in her hands, kneeling in between the nuns. From under her fingers, she watched Lubber scan each row. He halted at the front pew. Anya squeezed her eyes shut, praying beneath the lace.
“My good sisters, forgive me for the interruption,” Lubber stated kindly. The nun closest to the aisle blessed herself and faced him, concealing Anya from his view. “Two thieves entered this sacred building but a moment ago. Did you happen to see them or know of their whereabouts?” He played the part perfectly.
Anya’s heart skipped a beat. Lubber was speaking to Sister Mary Mildred, who knew Yia Yia but didn’t always agree with her. The nun would not lie.
“A young man and woman entered.” The nun nodded toward the door Lorenzo had disappeared through.
Lubber followed her gaze and smirked, “Pray now that I find them and bring them to justice.” He turned eloquently then slipped on the marble floor, stumbling to one knee. His sword clattered against the pew. Despite her fear, Anya giggled.
Sister Mary Mildred began coughing then placed her head to her folded hands. Regaining his composure, Lubber eyed the women then hurried to the door.
Anya stood to follow. Sister Mary Mildred yanked her back down. When Lubber slipped into the room, the grip on her arm released. She ran to the door, cracking it open. Feeling the hands of the nuns on both shoulders, she watched.
The narrow room was lined with closets on one side and a window on the other. The pirate opened the first closet, revealing priest vestments. The next contained various robes and cassocks. A muffled thud two closets down caught Lubber’s attention.
Whispers and another thump sounded from the closet. Anya watched in terror as Lubber cocked his gun then flung open the door. His mouth dropped at its contents. He stared, pointing the pistol in disbelief. A woman’s shriek filled the air.
“Pardon the interruption,” the pirate apologized, shutting the door. He began to turn away then sighed and reopened the closet. “My apologies. May you be so kind to answer a question?” He waved the pistol absently as he spoke. “Have you perhaps seen an ugly young American and a peasant girl run through here?”
Anya could not see whom Lubber directed his question to, but he was definitely losing his patience.
“Where are they?” he demanded.
“Outside,” a man’s voice sounded. Anya opened the door a bit more.
“Thank you.” Lubber stepped back before bowing. “Do carry on.” He waved his hand in the air, shut the closet, and stormed out.
Anya froze as Yia Yia climbed out of the closet, followed by Henry, the church caretaker whose wife had recently passed
. Both gazed out the window and giggled.
“He’s headed to the harbor,” Yia Yia announced, then slipped her arm around Henry’s waist. “Now, where were we?”
Henry’s eyes twinkled as he touched her cheek. “You were magnificent.”
Yia Yia beamed. “You did all of the talking.”
“Yes, but it was your quick thinking that saved Lorenzo.” Henry drew close.
“Bah on Lorenzo,” Yia Yia scoffed, tilting her head up to kiss Henry.
Anya had seen enough. She crashed through the door, followed by both nuns. Her eyes widened as her grandmother remained in Henry’s arms. Yia Yia snuggled against him then smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress.
“Where’s the pirate?” Anya demanded, hoping Lorenzo had a far enough lead to escape.
“He’s heading back through the market after Lorenzo,” Henry announced triumphantly. Anya gasped, running to the door.
“Anya,” a voice called, causing her to spin around. Lorenzo stepped out of the closet from behind the black cassocks. She flew to him, burying her face into his shoulder.
“He almost killed you,” she gasped.
“He would have if it wasn’t for your good aim.” Pride filled his voice. His hand smoothed her hair, and then he wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders.
“It looks like we have two heroines today,” Henry declared, taking Yia Yia’s hand.
Lorenzo nodded his thanks to Yia Yia, who scowled in return. Henry patted her hand then turned to Lorenzo, “I will escort Katarina home. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”
“Thank you. I’m confident we’re safe now,” Lorenzo replied.
Anya stepped out of his hold but clung to his arm. Lorenzo shook Henry’s hand and leaned close to Yia Yia. “I won’t mention this to Tatiana.” His eyes twinkled.
Yia Yia glared. “Done.” She took Henry’s arm, walking with pride through the church.
After the door had closed behind Henry, Anya felt Lorenzo’s hands cradle her face. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and then placed a finger to her lips.
“I need to get you home.” His breath tingled across her cheek.
“I’m scared for you,” Anya whispered as Lorenzo guided her to the door that Lubber had exited. He surveyed the area before stepping outside.
“We must leave now.” Lorenzo tugged on her arm then kissed the back of her hand.
Chapter 15
Say Ya
Gretta opened her eyes. Standing next to Sam, she took a step closer to him. Even though his arms tightened around her waist, she could tell he wasn’t quite back. She filled her lungs with sweet, clover-scented spring air. Huge granite boulders were nestled in lush green grass a few yards away. A large, open field sloped with a fence line at the lower end. A rounded, tree-covered mountain ridge stood at their backs. Puffy clouds dotted a baby blue sky. A cell phone tower graced the top of the mountain. They were back, somewhere in their own time. Roxana was nowhere to be seen.
Leaning into Sam’s hold, she took in more of their surroundings. A winding trail led down to fields that contained young evergreen trees, not quite big enough to be cut for Christmas trees. Beyond the gigantic rocks, the grassy pasture rolled on for several hundred yards before reaching the wooded mountainside. A hawk soared in the distance, chased by two blackbirds. Strange. Everything appeared to be frozen in time, everything except the birds. The hawk’s screech echoed off the hillside, bringing Sam around. His embrace tightened.
“Protective, aren’t they?” Sam displayed his irresistible grin.
The hawk disappeared into the trees.
Gretta nodded. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know.”
Gretta felt his eyes on her, not their surroundings. “No pirates, guns, or swords,” she whispered, attempting to hide her lingering fears. Grateful he didn’t let go, she averted his eyes by leaning into his T-shirt. Earthy, masculine scents drifted to her nose. They were different from Lorenzo’s seaside aroma but definitely pleasing.
“It seems safe, and we’re alone.” Sam’s deep voice resonated in her ear. Gretta closed her eyes, pushing Anya’s experiences out of her head. Safe. She was safe with Sam. The weight of his chin rested lightly on top of her head. “I’m sorry it took so long. I tried to get us back weeks ago.” His arms tightened with his apology.
It took a second for her to realize what he said.
Gretta eased out of his arms. “Why?”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t you want to come back? Each time I kissed you, or rather Anya, I concentrated on you and me and going home.”
“I didn’t.” Gretta studied her sneaker laces. One was untied. When she looked up, Sam’s forehead wrinkled.
“It’s dangerous.” He took her hand in his, looking where the piece of glass had stuck between her fingers, not a scratch remained.
“That was nothing.” Gretta attempted to hide the weakness she felt any time he touched her. “You’re the one in danger. Anya was terrified Lubber would kill Lorenzo. I was afraid for you.”
Sam’s hand gently stroked her back then squeezed her upper arm.
“Where did you learn to throw like that? You nailed that pirate.”
Gretta watched him grin and glowed at his compliment. Her father had always told her she had a good arm.
“Wonder what we changed this time?” Sam mused.
“Do you think you changed the past?” Gretta asked.
“I felt much more confident in guiding Lorenzo than I did before,” Sam stated proudly.
“Exactly what did you make Lorenzo do?” She giggled, wondering if he was enjoying his time in Milos as much as she was.
With a grin, he took her hand and led her to the boulders. “Well, to begin with, I’m keeping Mr. Taylor in check.”
“In check? Lorenzo is the most caring, understanding, gentleman I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you.” Sam flashed his killer smile.
Gretta narrowed her eyes. “You’re not holding him back. You’re encouraging him.”
“No, Lorenzo has been a sailor for over two years. Two very long years, it’s all I can do to keep him from crossing the ‘gentleman’ line. Just looking at you puts him in attack mode.”
“Looking at me or looking at Anya?” Gretta asked. The boldness of her question surprised herself.
Sam lifted her by the waist, setting her on a small boulder, then asked innocently, “May I join you?”
Gretta moved over a few inches and patted the rock. He slid next to her and they both gazed at the valley far below. Small farms dotted the countryside. A pickup truck had been traveling along a road that wound through the valley but now was frozen in time, like everything else, except for the birds. Sam appeared relieved.
“You must be very strong to be able to hold back a sailor,” Gretta continued as she placed her hand lightly on his shirt, touching him exactly the way Anya had.
“Very strong.” He straightened his shoulders, pulling slightly away from her. He appeared to concentrate on the vehicle in the far distance.
Gretta leaned closer, placing her hand back on his chest. Her fingers danced playfully across shirt. She liked the way Anya’s confidence rubbed off on her. Tilting her head, she placed her other hand just above his knee. Sam’s eyes riveted to hers. She eased even closer and scrutinized his face. It was so different from Lorenzo’s but, in the same moment, quite alike.
Lorenzo’s eyes were bright blue, similar to her own grandmother’s. Sam’s chestnut brown eyes pierced hers. His hair was a shade off Lorenzo’s. Sam’s darker blonde would probably lighten up this summer. The nose was completely different, but definitely attractive. Her eyes stopped on his lips. Here, Lorenzo’s top lip was fuller, but the grin Sam wore was exactly the sa
me.
“Very strong,” Gretta reiterated. She studied his lips as her hand crept up his leg, slowly moving to the pocket of his jeans. “Gentleman?” her lips whispered inches from his. She watched him swallow hard when her hand slipped under his T-shirt and eased across his chest. She would have never dreamed of being this daring before. Sam drew in another breath as she reached her other hand to his cheek. She felt him struggling to remain in control. He sighed, gave in, and leaned into her touch.
Gretta lost her balance and slipped off the boulder to the ground, landing shoulder first before rolling a few feet down the slope. Sam towered over her. Unsuccessfully suppressing an outrageous grin, he offered his hand. Refusing, she remained on the ground.
“You,” Sam paused but didn’t laugh, “have grass in your hair.” He tenderly removed a few pieces from her ponytail.
Disgusted that her clumsiness got the best of her, she pulled out her hairband and shook her head to get the remaining grass out.
“So, other than your ‘gentlemanly’ behavior, how did you influence Lorenzo?” Gretta spouted, running her fingers through her tangled curls. She felt her cheeks fill with heat from the embarrassment of her situation. Sam sat beside her and put a finger to her lips. It was a good thing she was sitting down for her legs would have surely failed her.
“On occasion, I encouraged Lorenzo to let go of his stubbornness and face his fears, something I must work on myself.” His hands seared her cheeks, as he pulled her face to his.
The wind blew gently as she felt his lips touch hers. It was their first real kiss, not as Lorenzo and Anya but as themselves. Gretta felt herself lean into his warmth. Her desire to return to Milos weakened as a new desire grew within. The kiss deepened, lengthened, and escalated by eagerness she neither could explain nor wanted to contain. The pulsating fire racing through her was suddenly doused by an irritated, raspy voice.