Page 56 of Valor (Long Hot Summer: Christian Romantic Suspense #2)

CHAPTER ONE

Northern Moravia, 2025

When the P.A. system announced her stop, Meghan Robins was glad to be finally rid of him—the fifty-something man who stared at her for most of the ride from Prague. She gathered her belongings and proceeded to the door. The Ostrava-Prague Express slowed down as it approached the station. A sign came into view a few short minutes later, spelling out the name of this small town. Under her breath, she tried to pronounce Krasna Hora . One glance over her shoulder assured her that the stranger had no intentions of getting off at this stop. The knots in her stomach slowly dissipated. Perhaps traveling alone for the first time made her a little paranoid, but Meghan was sure he took a picture of her with his smartphone. Had she been back in Toronto, nothing would have stopped her from walking up to him, demanding to see his device, and insisting he delete the picture of her. But this far from home and not speaking Czech, Meghan wasn’t as confident.

The train screeched to a stop, and she pressed the green button to her right. The door swished open. This was it. Her fingers subconsciously gripped the golden chain with a heart-shaped pendant her parents had given her as a graduation gift. It was inscribed with three simple words: God is Love .

Meghan puffed out her cheeks and stepped off the train into a foggy, damp June afternoon.

She made it. The sudden sense of relief surprised her. That was something to be proud of, but Meghan had no idea what to expect next. Her surprise inheritance was an enigma to her. What had Grandpa been thinking? She knew no one here. Meghan touched the red Griffin on the front of her white hoodie. Her fingers ran over the embroidered symbol of the University of Guelph, and she cracked a smile. Mom and Dad were so proud of her when she crossed the stage and received her diploma only four days earlier. She was supposed to be looking for a job, not traveling to a small town in an obscure corner of Europe in search of a dilapidated mill. At least, that was what Mom said when Meghan presented her decision to her parents. Dad took her side, saying that it was a good idea for Meghan to take a couple of weeks off after the finals. And who knew, maybe Fred fixed up the place. Mom laughed at that. Meghan decided to pray about her decision, and once she did, she knew. She needed to take this trip despite Mom’s reservations.

Her blond hair soaked up the drizzle as Meghan inhaled the mountain air. She would enjoy this adventure. The handle of her suitcase cut into her hand. She dropped the luggage. It landed on the wet pavement with a thud and startled the two pigeons waddling along the platform, searching for crumbs. Meghan’s skin prickled from the cold dampness. Her damp hair re-tied into a messy bun, she pulled on the UofG windbreaker Mom insisted she pack. This small town, nestled at the foot of a major mountain range, experienced rapid weather changes. Hence the weight of her suitcase. Summer didn’t always mean sunshine in this part of Europe.

Meghan took the phone from her crossover bag, ready to order an Uber. She looked up at the sign, carefully typing the town’s name into the search bar. Just as the train’s P.A. system announced that the doors were about to shut, Meghan looked up. A man stepped onto the platform. It was him. Meghan tightened the grip on her phone. What was the emergency number here? Why had she not known that?

He glanced her way, pushed his fedora lower on his forehead, and walked toward the closest exit. She snapped a picture of his retreating backside. Hopefully, she would never run into him again, but one could never be too safe. Feeling justified, she checked her screen and then clicked on her Uber app.

The sound of rushing feet startled her. A teenager ran up the platform stairs, gasping for breath. He repeatedly pressed the glowing green button next to the automated door, eager to board the train. The ear-piercing sound of the conductor’s whistle, followed by metal-on-metal scraping, made Meghan cringe. The train groaned to life and pulled out of the station.Meghan watched the last car fading into the distance, a sense of loneliness wrapping around her. She had visited this town only once. That had been fifteen years ago with Mom. This time, she was alone.

Meghan stifled a yawn. She’d planned to sleep on the overnight flight from Toronto to Prague, but a grumpy toddler sitting behind her had ensured that no one in her section dozed off for long. And once she noticed the man glancing her way on the train, she couldn’t close her eyes either.

The deserted platform added to her anxiety. She glanced across the tracks toward the train station’s main building. It had been rundown and dirty all those years ago. A little scary.Today, the bright yellow stucco facade decorated with ornate details looked much more welcoming.The building had been restored to its original 19th-century grandeur.

Meghan pulled up the luggage handle, readjusted her knapsack, and held onto the strap of her crossover bag.

God, I’m not sure this was a good idea. I should have listened to Mom. Get a lawyer to handle this. Please keep me safe. Help me sort this thing out. Fast.

Filling her lungs with a deep, calming breath, Meghan set out to meet the next phase of her journey. She spun around, searching the platform for an escalator that would take her to the underground passage leading to the main building. There wasn’t one, only two flights of stairs in front of her. Stopping halfway down the stairs, she took out her phone and checked the Uber app. No signal.

The luggage handle cut off the circulation to her fingers as Meghan descended into the brightly lit tunnel. The white tiles covering the walls seemed surprisingly clean, and much to her relief, the passage didn’t smell like dirty bathrooms. A large sign dangled off two wires right above her head, creaking in the draft. It pointed to the exit. There was no one around. The wheels of her suitcase rattled over the uneven concrete, the sound echoing off the walls. When she reached the next set of stairs leading to the main building, she let out a deep sigh.

“Let me help you.”

Meghan looked up, startled.

A tall man in his early thirties appeared as if from nowhere. He stood a few steps to her left, perhaps intentionally giving her a bit of space, but his outstretched hand seemed to be ready to grab the handle of her suitcase.

Was he planning to run away with her stuff? Grandpa used to warn her about people stealing anything they could get their hands on. But Grandpa always seemed to be a little paranoid. She glanced up the two flights of stairs looming in front of her, then back at the handsome stranger. Blue jeans, Adidas T-shirt, black hair swept off his forehead, Nike’s on his feet. Judging by his biceps, Megan deduced he must be a regular at some local gym. He didn’t look like a thief. What would a thief look like around here?

“Sure, thank you.”

The man’s smile reached his chocolate eyes. The man picked up her luggage and walked up the stairs. Briskly.

Was Grandpa right? And how had the guy known I wasn’t from here? And spoke English?

Her heart rate increased. Meghan sped up to keep up with him, a drop of sweat forming on her forehead.

At the top of the stairs, the stranger stopped. He set her suitcase down, waiting for her to catch up.

“Thank you,” she said, embarrassed at her dark thoughts that had turned this good Samaritan into a luggage thief.

“No problem.” He nodded curtly and walked away, taking long, confident strides.

Relieved, Meghan hauled her stuff into the main lobby. The aroma of freshly baked goods wrapped around her. A large screen displayed the arrival time of the next train. She was tempted to board the express back to Prague. It would certainly make Mom happy, as hiring a realtor to deal with the unexpected inheritance had been her preferred option.

Meghan sunk into one of the orange plastic seats lined against the wall and checked her phone. Uber was one tap away. A thirty-minute wait. Only one vehicle on offer.

Her stomach grumbled. She got up and pushed her suitcase into the small kiosk. The sight of the tantalizing baked goods display reminded her of her childhood visit to this part of Northern Moravia. Forget the French baguettes and the British scones. This was the stuff one could eat all day long and then some more.

The round pastries filled with cheese and jam looked delicious.

“I’ll take two of those and a latte, please.”

“Big or small?” the teenager behind the counter asked, lifting two paper cups in the air.

“Large, please.”

This was another welcomed change. As a child, she used to feel so out of place, speaking her five Czech words and not understanding any. Meghan smiled at the pleasant barista and tapped her card, wishing she had some change to leave in the tip jar.

Sipping her surprisingly great latte, Meghan returned to the orange seat and checked the app. It still showed 30 minutes until her ride would arrive, so she refreshed the page.The app stalled. Change of plans. Her fingers typed t axi near me into the search bar. Three options popped up. Unsure, she swiped back to the Uber app. No change.

Not willing to get billed for a ride she never took, Meghan sipped her coffee and ate one of the pastries, then checked her phone once more. No change. Could she walk to the Airbnb? A glance outside confirmed the drizzle had turned into a steady rain.

One last check of the app produced no better results. With much apprehension, she dialed the first taxi company. The phone rang seven times, then disconnected. She tried the second number. Heat rose to her face as Meghan realized that the person on the other end may not speak English. How would she explain what she needed?

An automated voice spoke in her ear. Meghan deduced that the number was not in service, so she attempted her last option.

“ Halo ?”

“I need a ride.”

“Where?”

Thank you, God. Relieved that the man spoke English, she gave him the address.

“Okay, I come in one hour.”

“An hour?”

“Yes. Wait one hour. I have lunch now.”

Was the man joking?

“Yes or no?” his voice demanded through the speaker.

What choice did she have?

“Okay, I’ll wait here.”

“Good.”

The call disconnected.

She sunk into the plastic chair and bit into her second pastry, but the sweetness failed to calm her. Maybe she should call Mom, but Meghan knew what her reply would be. Nope, she could handle this. The call to Mom could wait until she settled into the Airbnb and perhaps even took a nap.

“Excuse me,” a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. “Do you need a ride?”

She looked up. Her good Samaritan towered over her. His commanding presence took her aback, but his friendly eyes smiled.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“I overheard your conversation.”

The situation was getting increasingly uncomfortable.

“My name is Oliver.” He offered her a handshake.

“Meghan.” She hesitated for a beat, then accepted the offered hand.

“I can drive you to?—”

She pulled back.

“—wherever you are going.”

“Yeah, thanks, but I will wait for the taxi.”

“Ota may not show up for a few hours, depending on if he has a beer with his lunch.”

“You know him?”

“He is my neighbor.”

Was the man making this up to lure her into his car, or was he trying to help? The prospect of sitting on an uncomfortable plastic seat for hours didn’t appeal to her. This was a small town, a village, in fact, and presumably, everyone knew everyone else. A glance at the small coffee shop gave her an idea.

“Give me a moment, please.” She got up and walked to the kiosk, leaving her luggage behind. If he were interested in stealing that, he would have taken it the first time he had a chance. Or he could be cunning and trying to gain her trust, then drive her off to a dark forest.

“Excuse me.” Meghan smiled at the barista.

“Yes?”

“Do you know that man?”

The teenager leaned over the counter and peered into the lobby. “Yes. He is my history teacher. From my high school.”

Meghan pursed her lips.

“His name is Oliver Skala,” the girl added.

“Thank you.”

Meghan spun on her heel and walked back to Oliver.

“Sorry about that,” she looked up at him. “I just want to make sure I don’t get myself in trouble.”

“I understand.” His eyes lingered a second too long.

Her cheeks grew warm. “If you could give me a lift, I would very much appreciate it.”

He reached for her luggage and effortlessly lifted it off the tiled floor.

“Let’s go then.”

They walked briskly across the parking lot, getting wet. Oliver clicked his key fob, and the trunk popped open.

“Give me your knapsack,” he stretched out his arm, “and get in.”

That sounded like an order. Meghan stole a glimpse of the interior of the trunk. It was empty. Lord, please don’t let him be a serial killer. This is so out of my comfort zone.

Meghan settled into the passenger seat of the white Octavia sedan, worried that her wet jeans would damage the black leather seats. The car smelled of bubble gum, which relaxed her a little. Before Oliver had a chance to get in, she scanned the back row. There was no duct tape, rope, or a rolled-up plastic sheet. So, maybe she would live through this.

Oliver got in and started the car. Jazz music filled the space. He adjusted the vents and turned on the heat, which she was thankful for. This wasn’t her kind of summer. Mom was right. Getting a lawyer and selling the property to pay down her student loan was a reasonable idea.

“Thank you,” she said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I’m going to 16 Svoboda Square, please.”

“No problem. We should be there in ten minutes.”

“Great.” Meghan tapped her phone. Google Maps displayed the route they were to take, her little insurance. If anyone had to look for her later, they could check her account and find out where they had gone right after she left the train station. At times, Big Brother watching wasn’t a bad thing.

“Hey, I hope it’s not too forward, but I’m curious—what brings you to this metropolis?”

She looked at him, her mind swirling with questions. Who was this guy? Maybe she would hold off on answering for now.

Oliver brushed his wet hair off his forehead and glanced her way.

“Where did you learn to speak English?” she asked.

“Postgraduate studies in Copenhagen.”

“Did you have to learn Danish?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, but also German and French, but most of my courses were in English.”

“Oh.” She looked out the window, slightly embarrassed. Her breath caught as she spotted the man from the train sitting in a black Range Rover parked at the curb. He wore the same fedora. The stranger aimed his phone at her. This time, she was certain he had snapped several pictures.

* * *

Oliver Skala gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. From her reaction, he knew she had noticed Robert Eisenhart, but Oliver chose not to let on that he knew. He was sure it would only heighten her anxiety. Meghan was not whom he had expected. The Czech branch of the BIAR, the Bureau of Investigation and Art Recovery, initially thought that her mother, Katka Robins, would be the one dealing with Fred’s estate, even though he left the mill to Meghan. Why she would send her daughter, who obviously didn’t speak the language and had no idea what she was getting into, was beyond his understanding.

Did Katka think that everything would resolve itself with her father’s passing and the ugly history would just be forgotten? If only things could be that easy. Oliver checked the rear-view mirror. Robert Eisenhart didn’t follow them, most likely satisfied with his blatant display of stalker behavior. He clearly meant to let Oliver know that he was here. And he was ready to do whatever it took to get what he wanted. However, the documents he was after, as well as the items he had been searching for, never belonged to the Eisenhart family. The bureau, or better yet, the people who had founded the agency, had been following this case for over 80 years. It was up to Oliver and his team to retrieve the items and to ensure that Robert would never get his dirty hands on the stash or the records that had been, presumably, hidden with it. That had been his mission for the past two years. Hence his transfer to his hometown. He glanced at the young woman sitting in his car. Despite her visible discomfort with the situation, she had courage. Oliver checked the mirror one more time. Robert’s car was gone.

“How was your flight?” He broke the silence. Gaining her trust would be a challenge. That had been obvious from the start. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her message someone with an update on her status and Google Maps directions to the Airbnb. He was pretty sure there was some GPS tracking app on her phone, most likely installed by her mother. She must have known that Meghan could run into trouble. From what he had gleaned from the research on the family, he understood that Katka was a pragmatic, smart, well-educated woman who had clear goals in life. He surmised that flying to Czechia to deal with a seemingly worthless piece of property wasn’t reason enough to use the few precious days off she allowed herself each year. Her legal practice was well established, but Katka’s profile pinned her as a workaholic. She took one week off at Christmas, then another in March. The family vacationed together in Mexico. Same resort. The same week, for the past ten years. Thank you, Facebook.

“Good.” Her reply sounded a little strained.

“You must be tired.” He glanced over.

Her blue eyes met his. “Tired doesn’t even come close. There was a crying kid on the flight.” She stifled a yawn.

“Not even a snooze on the train?”

“Nope.” She tapped the screen.

Was she messaging someone on the other side of the ocean?

“I don’t want to sound paranoid,” she chewed on her bottom lip. “But an annoying old man was staring at me,” she paused. “For most of the way.” Meghan looked at her screen again, then turned toward him. “It was so weird, but it could be me. I’m tired, possibly seeing what’s not there.”

How did Robert know what train she’d be on? He must have had help. A team?

Oliver needed to warn Meghan. But that would blow his cover. How would she react knowing he had not been completely honest with her from the moment they met? It had been a huge leap of faith for her to get into his car. Teaching at a local high school had proven to be the best cover his bureau could have come up with. It worked. His students liked him. Oliver had to admit that he enjoyed the classroom. Maybe he would hand in his notice after this assignment was complete. He could stay in the area and settle down. It would make his mama happy. She had been thrilled when he asked if he could stay at the family villa while he looked for his own place. Of course, she insisted that renting an apartment was complete nonsense, especially since she lived alone after his dad passed. So, despite the stigma attached to thirty-something men living with their parents, he moved back home to live with his mother. Oliver would have to come clean with her, too—one day.

“Are you hungry?” Oliver asked as he turned left. The small street led to the center square of the village. The high school he worked at was situated at one end, and Meghan’s Airbnb was on the other. He would have a perfect view of the entrance to her building. The bureau selected this low-rise on purpose, as the windows from the history department’s office offered him a great vantage point. Oliver had installed a small surveillance camera outside the window frame so he could monitor the area from his cell phone. The original plan called for surveillance at arm’s length. But the delay at the notary office responsible for Fred’s estate complicated things. Meghan was supposed to arrive, according to the team’s plan, in May, as soon as her university let out. But this was the end of June. By now, the school was out—he had to improvise.

“And here we are,” he said, pulling to the curb.

The app on her phone chimed.

“Thank you.” Her face lit up with a sweet smile. “This was very kind of you.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I would have been stuck at that station till the evening.”

“No worries.” He unbuckled his seatbelt, got out of the car, and walked around its front to open her door.