Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
But there’s something else too.
It’s respect. Hard-won respect. When he first brought me to Greece and watched over me those first days and weeks, he looked at me like I was a burden, like I was nothing more than some beat-up, pathetic loser girl that would eventually go away so he could be free to do whatever he wanted again.
Now he looks at me like a partner.
And I’m starting to think of him the same way.
He’ll break me if I let him and I’m only just now beginning to pick up my pieces. I’m fragile and terrified and that’s why I can’t let this thing happen between us.
I can’t let myself get shattered again.
But I’m not sure I can stop it.
“Stay close to me, all right?” Peter takes my hand in his as we walk down a crowded street. Crete’s largest western city is called Chania with a big and bustling tourist population and plenty of bars down near their extremely important and popular docks. I wonder if this is what it must’ve been like walking through the city in the ancient days with people wandering around drunk, laughing together, with rough-looking sailor men sitting in groups and smoking cigars, the whole city crawling with life and teeming with joy and excitement. It’s intoxicating and I understand why people want to be here in this place with all this unbridled living going on.
I lean against his arm and for a second, I let myself pretend like we’re a couple on vacation. Instead of two people desperately trying to find some ship captains that’ll take bribes to bring in kilos of heroin, I can pretend I’m just another girl out for a night with her man. My legs are sore, my arms ache, my jaw is throbbing from where he caught me with a quick jab earlier in the day, but I’m happy. He looks at me and smiles, and I smile back, and I like the way his eyes move down to my dress, cut low, showing off my chest and arms, but loose and flowy enough to hide the gun strapped to my thigh.
“This place is called Charybdis. It’s a sailor bar so it’s a little rough, but don’t worry, we’re still in the nice part of town. You don’t want to see the places in the bad part.”
“Charybdis. That’s a sea monster, right? Along with Scylla?”
“I didn’t know you knew Greek mythology.”
“My mom liked it. We had this picture book of kid-friendly Greek myths. It conveniently left out all the fucking and cursing and killing.”
“Those are the best parts. Like how Zeus had this weird animal fetish. He loved nothing more than to change into a bull or something and fuck the hell out of the first maiden that stumbled on him. There were a lot of hot mortals wandering around fields in Ancient Greece.”
“Probably hoping Daddy Zeus would spot them.”
“You know, that almost makes sense.”
I grin at him. “Fortunately, I figured all that gross stuff out later in life.”
“You call it gross, but lots of people call it hot.” He grins back at me and I roll my eyes. “Anyway, if you want to think of this place as a sea monster, you won’t be wrong. It’s dangerous in there, but these aren’t criminals, all right? They’re not the kind of people we’ve been dealing with, so keep that in mind. They think they’re fine, upstanding citizens.”
“But you know better?”
“I hope so. Still, you don’t have to worry.”
“So you’re saying I’ll be safe?” We reach the entry to Charybdis and watch as two men come stumbling out, arm-in-arm, only to turn and start punching each other in the face. More men spill out after them shouting in Greek and the whole mob moves away up the block.
Peter laughs to himself and shrugs. “Safe enough.”
The interior is dark and smoky. It hangs thick in the air. The bar is packed three deep and every table is occupied. Candlelight flickers all over casting long shadows over well-worn pint glasses stacked behind the bar and pictures of old Greek sailors and boats all over the dark walls. Peter makes his way through the crowd toward the back of the place, at the far end of the bar, and sidles up beside a bulky man in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, sweating faintly in the evening heat.
“I thought I was early,” Peter says as the man looks at him. “Clearly I wasn’t.”
“I like to be the first one to any meeting, especially the ones that take place in a bar.” He grins and holds up a beer. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Wine for me and the lady.”
The man looks out at me from under dark eyelids. “Well, hello there, you must be the secretary.”
I shake my head and thrust my hand at him. “I’m his partner. My name’s Adrienne.” I do my best not to glance at Peter and I half expect him to correct me, but he says nothing.