Page 7 of Take Me

“See you soon, my sweetLisichka.”

The world staggers beneath me, and I stare straight ahead with unfocused eyes as he picks up my bag and holds a strap out for me. When I lift my arm, I realize I’m still holding onto the teddy. I shift it from hand to hand as I push my arms through the straps, then hug it tight against my chest as I approach the train with precarious steps.

Grabbing the handrail, I set my foot on the first step and turn to look back.

Nikolai gives me a firm nod that seems to say everything I need to hear—the gentle promise to see me again, the dark anticipation of all the things he’ll do to me, and the possessiveness that thrills me as much as it scares me.

It takes me a while to recover from the heady effect of Nikolai as I settle in the train seat.

I’m slow and confused when the conductor comes to see my ticket, and he gives me a stern look as I fumble through several pockets in my bag before finding the little piece of paper.

“Can I see some ID?” the chubby man with a mustache and thick accent says.

“ID?” I frown at him. Well, that’s a new one. But I fish out my driver’s license anyway and hand it to him.

“Julie Thomsen?” he says like it’s a question.

“That’s me.”

Without further comment or question, he hands it back to me. And then he’s gone again.

Strange man.

I lean my head back against the seat and turn my attention to the setting sun outside the windows. The city is already thinning out, giving way to large, open fields. Soon, it will be mountains and trees. The peaceful quiet of untouched nature.

It will do me good to get out there. A couple of weeks to clear my mind and let the butterflies settle. Even impatient as I am, I don’t want to rush into anything. This will give me time to see things from a different perspective—look for any red flags my smitten eyes are unable to see.

No need to hurry.Nikolai will still be there when I get back. I open my eyes and look down at the teddy.There’s no doubt that he will.

CHAPTER

2

I’m about to drift off when a hand taps my shoulder. Blinking the sleepiness from my eyes, I look up to see the chubby conductor with a wide mustache.

“You’ve already seen my ticket.”

“I’m gonna have to ask you to move to the last car,” he says in an accent so thick I’m not sure I heard it right.

“I’m sorry?”

“The last car,” he repeats in a not-so-friendly tone, taking off his hat and swiping at his sweaty hair.

“Why?” I glance around at the many empty seats. It’s not like there’s not enough room here, so I can’t think of any good reason as to why he needs me to move.

He takes my backpack from the seat beside me, slings it over his shoulder, and gestures for me to go ahead.

Too tired to argue, I slide out from the seat and step into the aisle. Another irritated hand gesture has me moving toward the end of the car. I almost feel like a thief being escorted from a building as the conductor follows close behind.

The last car is completely empty, and I ignore an eerie sensation as I settle in one of the seats a little way down the hall. The conductor places my bag in the seat beside me and walks away without another word.

Once he’s gone, I take out my phone to check Facebook. It’s my favorite way to stay in touch with friends back home whenever I go on one of my hiking trips.

A little red dot informs me I have ten notifications, and I frown as I click on it and find one of my friends having commented on a post:Why Italy?

Why Italy, indeed? I have no idea what she means, so I open the post and stare incredulously at the screen as I see an update I haven’t written. But it’s my name, my picture.

Change of plans. I’ve set my sights on the Dolomites. Online access will be patchy, so I might be offline for a while.

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