Page 24 of Past Due

“The one near the hostel,” I said, returning my journal to my backpack. “My luggage is there in storage. I started my hike here so I’ve basically made a circle. You?”

“We’re getting off at the same stop. Miguel’s sister is meeting us at a hotel near there.”

“Where are you off to next?”

“Croatia. What about you?”

“I’m staying here for another day or two. I want to go see the castle before I decide whether to go south toward Tirana and then Greece or south to Tirana and then hop over to Italy.”

“Italy,” Andres suggested. “Rome, for sure. Venice and Florence, if you have enough time. The museums, the art, the buildings—you’ll love them.”

“Italy it is,” I said with an appreciative smile.

The bus made its first stop—a very popular campground—and then trundled along its route. At the spot near the most popular hostel in the city, I grabbed my backpack and stood up with Andres and almost every other passenger. It seemed quite a few of us were staying in this area, probably because we were all trying to travel as cheaply as possible.

I hitched my backpack onto my shoulders and followed the line of passengers off the bus and out onto the street. The afternoon sun made me wince, and I slipped my sunglasses into place. I moved out of the throng of travelers looking at their phones and printed maps and walked a little farther down the sidewalk. Wanting to tell Andres goodbye, I turned back to smile at him—and then I heard my name.

“Marley.”

Startled by a rough, deep voice I hadn’t expected to hear ever again, especially not after the way he had all but forgotten me while I was in the hospital, I slowly pivoted toward the street. My gaze settled on him almost immediately. Besian. Right there, leaning against a sleek black Mercedes.

Polished as ever in his dark jeans, gray shirt and brown boots, he swept his aviator sunglasses from his handsome face and tucked them into the front pocket of his navy blazer. The sight of him sent my heartbeat into overdrive. Usually, he had a playful smile for me, but today, he was all business.

And it terrified me.

Whatever had brought Besian to Albania, to Shkodër, to me, had to be serious. Steeling myself for the worst, I gripped the straps of my backpack as he approached and prepared myself to hear news that would forever change my life.

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