Page 9 of Marko

“Yes, thanks,” I forced out as my head swam and my vision blurred again. I needed fresh air, fast.

Hurrying up the stairs, I said a quick goodbye and practically ran for the door, my stomach threatening to give up its contents with every step.

As soon as I was outside, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then turned towards home, thoughts swirling in my head as the images from the photographs assaulted my mind.

CHAPTER 6

MARKO

FRIDAY MORNING – MEETING LITTLE MISS POUTY LIPS

It felt like forever before Melissa Martin finally left the bank, and she immediately turned towards home, looking a bit distracted.

Glad we were on the move again, I continued to shadow her from across the road, staying out of sight. We were about halfway to her home, on a quieter residential street, when I realised I wasn’t the only one following her. A tall, muscular man in a dark jacket with the hood drawn up was quickly approaching from behind.

Shit! The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a primal instinct warning me of imminent danger.

“Fuck!” I muttered as I watched helplessly from the other side of the road, unable to cross for the traffic.

What the hell was he up to?

A stream of cars blocked my path, and a van obscured my view. So, I didn’t see him reach for her until it was too late.

As the guy grabbed her bag, Melissa tried to hold on to it, but he yanked it out of her hands, roughly pushing her down on the ground before he ran off.

“Hey!” she shouted, trying to get up.

As soon as there was a break in the traffic, I darted across the road and straight to her.

“Are you okay?” I asked, offering my hand to help her up.

When Melissa stood, I noticed how petite she was. Looking down at her small hand in my larger one, I was hit by a sudden feeling of rightness.

“That guy stole my bag!” she cried, pointing to where the man was now climbing onto the back of a motorbike with another guy. The driver sped off with the culprit and her bag.

“Shit!” she cried again, seeing them disappearing along the road.

Narrowing my eyes, I watched them go. Huffing a breath, I turned back to Melissa.

The men might have escaped for now, but hopefully not for long. I’d hack the security footage in the area and see what I could find out about that bike and the occupants later.

Meanwhile, I realised this was my opportunity to get to know Miss Martin.

“Are you okay?” I asked again. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine, but I had some important information in that bag. Damn!” she said.

Little Miss Pouty Lips looked visibly shaken, her hands trembling slightly when I suggested calling the police. I couldn’t help but notice the uncertainty flickering in her eyes as she hesitated, before finally nodding in agreement. That second of hesitation piqued my interest, and I wondered what had prompted it.

Once the call was made, I guided Melissa into a nearby coffee shop. The warmth and aroma enveloped us as we entered, offering a brief respite from the tension outside. I bought her a coffee, hoping it would provide some comfort. Then we settled at a table by the window, where we could keep watch for the police.

“Thanks, and sorry about this. I guess I’m keeping you back from whatever your plans were.”

“Not at all. I didn’t have any plans that were important,” I told her. “I’m Marko, by the way. Marko Rominov,” I said, finally realising I hadn’t introduced myself yet.

There was no point in giving a false name. If she was involved with Mathieson, she might have recognised me, anyway. When the police came, I would give a witness statement, and she would find out my name then anyhow. Besides, it was an excellent test of her reaction.

I watched her intently as I reached my hand out towards her to shake. She took it, with no sign of recognition in her eyes. Good! I couldn’t help my overwhelming feeling of relief at that.

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