Page 47 of Hidden Attraction

They lay tangled together, skin damp, their breaths ragged. The still air crackled between them.

“You okay?” he finally asked, voice gritty against her hair.

She smiled, lips grazing his jaw. “Better than okay.”

Silence wrapped around them like a blanket. Forbidden, reckless, perfect.

And completely theirs.

TEN

They were early. Not just a little early—wayearly. The table Chase had chosen offered a clean line of sight to the door and most of the surrounding street. He didn’t like surprises, especially not with the amount of heat pressing in around them these days.

So they waited. And waited.

Alyssa adjusted the scarf draped over her shoulders and shifted in her seat. She reached for her water again—the third time in as many minutes—then leaned across the table, her voice quiet and teasing. “I think you scared him off.”

Chase glanced up from scanning the passersby. “He might not show.”

“Yeah. If I were him, I wouldn’t come either. Have youseenhow mean you look?”

He gave her a slow look. “I’ll show you mean.”

Her eyes widened just a touch, her smirk curving as her cheeks pinked. The chemistry between them, never fully gone, twisted into something warmer. She tried to play it off with a sip of water, but her foot nudged his under the table—and didn’t move away.

Chase didn’t get the chance to respond. A figure emerged from the crowd—a man older than most others making up the foot traffic, thin and wary. His eyes moved around the room quickly before they settled on Chase and Alyssa.

“That has to be him,” he murmured.

The interpreter hesitated at the edge of the table. “You are alone?”

“We are,” Chase said. “Come. Sit.”

He did, cautiously, darting looks everywhere. Alyssa offered him a smile—calming, diplomatic—and spoke gently. “Thank you for meeting us. We know this wasn’t easy.”

He folded his hands. “Before I speak, I must know…will you honor the promise?”

A flicker of unease passed between them. Chase leaned in. “What promise?”

The man’s gaze sharpened, but he shifted with unease. “They said…if I helped move the weapons—if I gave aid to the resistance—I would be given passage to the US. For my family and me.”

Alyssa’s brows furrowed. “You helped smuggle arms?”

“They were left on a dock.” His voice dropped, full of weary regret. “I turned a blind eye. It was all I was asked to do. Later, they returned the crates after distributing the contents to the resistance fighters.”

Chase frowned. “You were just a pass-through.”

The man nodded. “That is all. But then the others found out.”

Alyssa leaned forward. “The terrorists?”

“Yes.” His eyes dropped to his lap. “They planted a bomb. Said it was a warning. To stop the resistors who were fighting back against them.”

Chase’s hands curled slowly into fists. “What kind of warning takes out three people? A Red Cross worker and two civilians.”

The interpreter’s face tightened with pain. His breathing grew labored as if he was reliving the events of that day. “She wasn’t supposed to be there—Miriam Sheen, the director. I told her not to go to work that day.”

Chase held back a curse. “And she didn’t listen?”

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