Page 56 of Hero's Heart

Across from her, he took a sip from his own mug, brown eyes flicking periodically to the café entrance behind her. Even here, in this unassuming little coffee shop on the outskirts of town, he remained alert, shoulders taut beneath his navy Henley.

Evidently, old habits died hard for a man who had spent so many years walking the knife’s edge between life and death.

“I like seeing you this way,” Callum said, drawing Sloane’s gaze.

“What way?”

“Smiling. Relaxed. Like you don’t have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

She reached across the table, intertwining her fingers with his. “Being with you…it makes me feel safe, even with everything.”

“And I especially liked seeing you eat the crème brûlée.”

She licked her lips, loving the way the gesture drew his eyes. “That was the most delicious dessert I think I’ve ever had.”

“Watching you eat it was the most delicious thingI’veever seen.”

She couldn’t stop her blush, but she loved his words.

She would’ve been content with staying in the safe house with him again today, even though she probably would’ve been too sore to do much more lovemaking. Even with how gentle he’d been, they’d still done…a lot.

But when he’d asked if she wanted to go to another outdoor market—this one more knickknacks, clothing, and household goods rather than just food—she’d definitely wanted to.

“What about op sec?” she’d asked.

He grinned at her use of the term. “We’ll keep a careful eye out, but it’s a relatively low risk and…”

He’d looked away.

“And what?”

“And I want you to have a little more of a taste of the Europe you were hoping for. I know it’s not Paris, but?—”

She’d planted a kiss on him that had led to their going back to the bed despite her soreness. The fact that he’d thought of the market for her meanteverything.

And the hours they spent there this morning, wandering through, enjoying the sunshine and the atmosphere of it all, had been damned near perfect. She hadn’t bought anything—she hadn’t wanted to ask him for money, and she had none of her own—but that hadn’t mattered. She’d gotten to experience the market, a memory that would always be with her.

Amazing how the good memories were starting to add up.

He squeezed her hand now, his touch warm and reassuring, bringing her back to the present. “Lincoln’s contacts should have our passports and documents ready tomorrow. We’ll get them then head down to the Ukraine border and into Odesa, a coastal town.”

“And there, the new high-speed overnight ferry to Barcelona.”

“Exactly. If we can get out of Eastern Europe, the Kozaks’ reach becomes much less—even with Jakob threatening eternal damnation on my head. Once in Spain, it’ll be easy to make our way home.”

That should thrill her, right? Being able to put this whole ordeal behind her? But she had to push back sadness at the thought and knew it was because that meant her relationship—if it could even be called that—with Callum would be over. Despite everything, he hadn’t mentioned anything about continuing their association once they were stateside.

A young couple came through the door, and he tensed, as he had every time the door had opened. Being here was stressful for him. She knew he was doing it for her, and she appreciated it. But it was time to go.

She finished her last sip of coffee. “Are you ready to head back home?”

Home. Funny how that tiny studio apartment with one window was more of a home to her than the Getty mansion had ever been, despite five years of living there.

He let out a small sigh. “Am I being jumpy?”

“Maybe a little, but I appreciate that you want to protect me.”

His eyes got serious. More serious. “Idowant to protect you. I hope you know that.”

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