Page 34 of Don't Look Back

Their waiter, a dark-skinned man who looked to be in his twenties, spoke as he placed their drinks on the table. “The beautiful lady has good taste. Why not Malta?”

Rand laughed. “Of course. It’s just not the usual first destination for an American with no genetic ties to Malta.” He met Kira’s gaze. “Your father’s parents were from Germany and your mother from Russia, right?”

She nodded. “I do plan to go to Germany next.”

“Why did you choose Malta, then?” the waiter asked as he held the empty drink tray to his chest, invested now.

“I’m an art historian, and Malta…” She waved an arm to indicate the cobbled street and limestone architecture that was so unique. “It’s an historic work of art.”

“The lady is beautiful, with good taste, and very smart.”

Kira grinned at the young man. “Thank you.” She then proceeded to ask him questions about the menu in Italian, which he answered in the same language.

Rand was reminded of the moment last December when she’d donned a Valkyrie mantle and he’d seen her for the siren she was. He placed his dinner order far less gracefully.

After the waiter left, he asked, “How did you know he speaks Italian?” Sure, the menu was written in both languages, but the man had a Maltese accent and Italian was not an official language.

“I heard him talking to another table.” She nodded to an elderly couple seated behind him a few tables away.

Given the noise and their own intense conversation, she shouldn’t have been able to hear or pay attention to the other table’s chatter. But if there had been a lull in the music, the Italian words might have stood out. Or Kira was better trained in the ways of the Valkyries than she’d let on.

ChapterSixteen

Rand wanted to take her hand as they descended the hill to their hotel. He had to remind himself they hadn’t been on a date. They weren’t really on vacation together. They were not about to become lovers.

It was far too easy to slip out of reality with her. To think this was the real world. Author and art historian. Not SEAL and Valkyrie.

Both contained truth and lies.

One was just more true than the other.

When they reached the hotel, Rand purchased a bottle of wine from the small bar by the concierge desk, and they went to the upper terrace to enjoy the view of the harbor while they talked.

Thankfully, the rooftop terrace was empty of other hotel guests, so they could speak freely, for now, at least. Rand poured them each a glass of wine. Instead of sitting at the table where he set the bottle, they stood side by side at the rail and looked out across the harbor. It was Friday night, and the jazz bar on the street below was in full swing. The music was lively and changing, an endless flow of swing and blues rhythms.

Across the water, the limestone walls of Fort St. Angelo glowed, as did a cathedral or two, along with mega yachts just visible at the edge of the harbor by the fort.

Every few minutes, fireworks popped, first to the left, then the right. Some erupted behind them. Kira laughed with delight at the sounds and displays.

It was a sultry evening, and he was with the woman who’d dominated his thoughts for six months. He sipped his wine and drank her in.

She caught him staring at her, gave him a crooked smile, and said, “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Her smile deepened. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for not kicking me to the curb.”

She turned to face the harbor again. “Well, you might come in handy.”

He chuckled. “You have no idea howhandyI can be.”

“Riiight.” She let out a soft laugh. “I was thinking it might be good to have a buyer interested in acquiring art from a private collection.” All at once, she closed her eyes and sighed. “Shit. Freya planted the seeds for that idea yesterday on the phone. I’ve been manipulated again.”

“It was my idea to surprise you at the gallery, but it wasn’t meant to be manipulative. It was to cement my cover story. Get me by your side.”

“I’m not talking about that. I get that part. It’s just…Freya.” She ran a finger around the lip of her wineglass. “She’s never direct. Not with me.”

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