Page 44 of Savage Hearts

“Of course you wouldn’t.You’d lose.Would you like to know why?”

Knowing where he’s going with this, I exhale a heavy breath and roll my eyes. “Because you’re stronger than me.”

“Aye. And that’s because…?”

“Because you’re a man and I’m a woman.”

“Correct.”

“God, you’re a pain in the ass.”

“You’re not the first woman to tell me that.”

“Shocker.”

He grins. Then he closes the passenger door and guides me into the shop with his hand on the small of my back.

Conversation at the café tables stops dead as we pass. One womanstares at Spider with her mouth hanging open so wide, I have to suppress a giggle.

Inside, we look around at the charming space. There’s a little coffee counter on one side of the store at the front, along with a few more small tables. The register is on the other side. Behind both, rows and rows of crammed bookshelves stretch all the way to the back of the building.

Heaven.

“Can I buy you a coffee, lass?”

“Sure. Thank you. Americano, no sugar or cream.”

He crinkles his nose. On such a muscular, macho guy, it’s adorable. “So basically hot bean water. Did you spend much time in prison?”

“Ha. And thank you for judging my choice in caffeinated beverages. Is it okay if I browse the shelves a bit before we sit down?”

“Of course. I’ll catch up with you.” His look sharpens. “Don’t wander too far.”

He stands in line behind an old man leaning heavily on a cane, and I stroll down the main aisle until I hit the travel section.

I turn down the aisle on a whim.

It’s surprisingly large, with a selection of everything from walking guides through Kyoto to spelunking guides for the underwater caves of New Zealand.

The books on Russia are at the end of the aisle.

I flip through several of them, not knowing what I’m looking for. Then a large, colorful volume on a top shelf catches my eye. It’s sticking out a few inches from the rest.

Deciding I’d like to look at that one, I set my laptop on the floor and grab a rolling shelf ladder someone left in the middle of the aisle. I roll it over, climb up a few steps, and reach for the book.

I’m about to pull it out when another hand reaches up and settles over mine.

It’s big, male, and covered in tattoos.

The arm it’s attached to is encased in a black wool coat sleeve.

The sharp breath I drag into my lungs is infused with the scent of pine needles.

Malek.

THIRTEEN

RILEY