Heart of an Assassin (Circle of Spies) by Laura Pauling Read Free Book Online Page B

He led the way. Right on a narrow street, then left, then right, then straight. The sights and the sounds blurred around me into a jumble of colors and emotions: the hazy lights, the laughter of couples in love, and the strains of guitars and singing. I wanted that. Happiness. Peace. Fun. But those concepts seemed as foreign to me as the city streets beneath my feet.
    “Hey, we’re here.” Will gently tugged on my arm.
    “What?” I glanced at the adorable little restaurant in front of us. I couldn’t even begin to pronounce the name, but I instantly fell in love with the outdoor patio, the red geraniums in potted holders along the deck, the simple white tables and wooden chairs. Nothing fancy but very welcoming. “Wow.”
    Will smiled for maybe the second time. “I knew it.”
    “Knew what?” I sneaked a sideways glance at him.
    “That this would cheer you up. It might not be pizza but no one can stay sad for long in this place. Just wait and see.”
    Sad? I forced a smile and reprimanded myself about playing the role. “What’re you talking about?”
    “I’m pretty smart and can read people well. It’s a gift. It’s what makes me good at my job.” He paused in front of the menu written on a whiteboard and read over the items. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to offer a therapy or handholding session. I’m not that kind of guy. We’re here on business, right?”
    I coughed, hiding my surprise at his candor. “Right.”
    We walked up the stairs and he ushered me to a table on the deck. About one minute after we sat and I struggled to say something impressive, two male waiters each with a white apron tied at the waist approached with a humongous tray filled with a gazillion plates of hot meals. Talk about service. Mom didn’t know what she was missing just eating salads and stir-fry. Will pointed out the dishes with names like Fried Brinjals, Taskonikes, and Saganaki Cheese.
    I shrugged and motioned for Will to order first. I went with a safe chicken dish with feta cheese, spinach and olives. And then we were eating. Just like that.
    “Fast service,” I offered up for conversation as I played with the napkin in my lap, twisting it into a rope.
    “Yes, but I’d wait longer for this food.” He picked up his fork and ate with a refined style, the way he sat straight and plucked carrot slivers off his plate, like he belonged at a grand party.
    I pushed my chicken around, not in the mood to eat and slightly paranoid about getting a piece of spinach stuck between my teeth. The gap seemed to be widening between us. The fun and easy chatter we managed at the shore that morning disappeared. Why was I even considering cozying up to Will? It wouldn’t work. He was too talented, too observant. My short stint as a spy in Paris had obviously been a fluke. I floundered through the rest of the meal with bits and pieces of random trivia and half-started conversations.
    “I’ve got an idea,” Will said, and finished up his last bite. “Let’s get out of here. Obviously my advanced sense of reading people was off tonight. This place was supposed to cheer you up.” He rubbed his chin and studied me. “We’ll try something else.” He dumped a bunch of bills on the table, stood, and offered his arm as if I was royalty.
    He bought us hot drinks in to-go cups, and we trekked up the hill toward the Parthenon, past old churches and the ancient Supreme Court, then climbed stone-cut stairs. I shivered a bit after a few couples passed us. Would we be alone?
    Small animals rustled in the landscaping, chasing after prey. The warning hoot of an owl pierced the night and echoed through the trees. Every few seconds, I peered into the shadows, hoping to see a flicker of movement, signaling that Adamos was nearby. I rubbed the goose bumps from my arm.
    He wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

 
     
     
Ten
    Finally, we stood at the Acropolis overlooking the city. I tried to hide the sheen of sweat on my forehead from the