Page 34 of Risky Obsession

“And we’ll both have a beer,” I added. “Whatever is the most popular.”

Our beers arrived first, two hefty steins filled to the brim with golden liquid.

“Prost!” I said, raising my beer to Tory.

“Prost.” She clinked her glass against mine. I took a gulp of beer, and the tangy bitterness washed away the remnants of today’s tension from the castle. Goering had authorized the destruction of Carinhall at the end of the war. Nature was doing its best to eradicate what was left. But the gruesome memories and legacy of that castle will linger forever.

I had another drink and licked foam off my upper lip. “That hits the spot.”

“Agreed.” The candle in the chunky beer stein on our table cast flickering shadows across Tory’s face as she took another hearty swig of her beer. Her choice of drink surprised me. I had pegged her as more of a wine person.

The bratwurst and schnitzel arrived quicker than I anticipated, and the mouthwatering aroma made me realize just how hungry I was.

As we ate our meal, three more patrons filed into the pub and joined the lively chatter and laughter from the two groups of middle-aged men. Three couples were seated at individual tables nearby, two looked to be in their twenties, and the final couple had to be at least over seventy years old. Nobody seemed to take any notice of us, which was fine by me.

Tory’s gaze drifted over the crowd like she was assessing everyone, and I had a sense that she had already figured out where the exits were. I hated that she seemed to have her guard up, and wondered, once again, if her injuries were caused by some bastard who had hurt her.

“How are your fingers?” I nodded at the blue splint on her hand.

She frowned as if she’d forgotten the wound was there. “They’re fine. Don’t hurt too much.”

“How long do you need to keep that on for?”

“At least a month. Annoying. How’s your meal?”

She was a master at changing the subject when it suited her.

“Good. Want to try my sausage?”

She released the cutest giggle. “No, thanks, keep your sausage to yourself. Want to try my meal?”

She carved a chunk of her schnitzel.

“Sure.”

She handed the breaded piece over to my plate. As we continued eating, her gaze was constantly on the move, from the crowd around us, to the woman behind the bar, to the fire, to her meal. Every oncein a while, she glanced at me. She was alert and observant, and I wondered if our time at the ruined castle had triggered her wariness, or if she was always like that.

“That guy at the bar looks like he’s had one too many,” I said, nodding at the middle-aged man whose head continued to roll as if he was struggling not to fall asleep.

“I noticed,” she said. “He looks harmless enough though.”

Her eyes met mine before returning to surveil the room.

“I’m full.” I puffed out my cheeks and shoved my plate aside.

“Me, too.” She sat back, nursing her beer.

As the waitress cleared our plates away, I ordered another beer, but Tory declined.

Once we were alone again, Tory asked, “Are you going to tell me why you brought me to Carinhall today?”

“Like I said, it’s where the gold bars started.” I sat back in my seat. “So, now that I revealed one of my cards by showing you Carinhall, what do you have?”

She sipped her beer and seemed to take her time forming a reply.

“We’re on the same team you know?” I cocked an eyebrow.

“Team?”