Page 58 of Valor (Long Hot Summer: Christian Romantic Suspense #2)

CHAPTER THREE

Northern Moravia, 2025

“And here we are.” Oliver’s Octavia pulled to the curb in front of a three-story building. He shifted to park and pressed a button on his dash.

Her Google Maps app chimed. Meghan peered through the window at the small apartment building. It must have been at least a hundred years old, much like every other house in this square, yet it looked well-maintained and inviting. There was a small park next to it with a tall monument topped with a cross. A little red light flickered—a memorial honoring the local war heroes.

“Thank you.” She was so ready for a nap. “This was very kind of you, Oliver. I would have been stuck at that station till the evening.” Meghan checked the street number painted on a blue square of metal above the entrance door, then pulled at the door handle.

“No worries.”

Oliver already stood outside her door, opening it for her. He offered her his hand. She was a little surprised but chalked it up to European manners.

“Thank you.” She said and accepted the gesture, hoping he wouldn’t notice that irritating blush on her face. Every time she felt the slightest bit of embarrassment; the flush betrayed her.

Meghan turned to the back of the car, ready to get her luggage and scoot out of this man’s way. He was kind, tall, and handsome, but she was only here for two weeks. There was no time to get to know anyone she would consider getting romantically involved with. Her life was already complicated enough, and a summer romance was not on the agenda.

Especially not some guy who lives six thousand miles away. Where did that come from? Clearly, it was time for a nap.

“Could you please open the trunk so I can get my stuff and let you go? You have wasted enough of your time with me. Thanks again.”

“No worries. But hold on for a minute. I’ll give you my cell number in case you need anything.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“I’m guessing you don’t know anyone in town, right?”

“Why would you think that?” She let out a pent-up breath. Detective Oliver was right. Maybe she could take his number; it was not like he was asking for hers.

“You can just pretend to take it and spare my feelings,” Oliver chuckled.

That made her smile. What would be the harm if she took it? Not like he was fishing for her number.

“Alright.” Meghan pulled her phone out of the windbreaker pocket. “Ready.” Her fingers dashed over the screen.

He recited the digits.

“Thanks,” she said and hit save.

With Oliver’s number in her contacts, she was ready to get her luggage and check out her temporary digs. Her new friend hoisted her suitcase out of his trunk and set it on the wet sidewalk, then handed her the knapsack.

“Thanks again,” she said. The rain picked up, and they were rapidly getting soaked once more.

“You are welcome.” He walked to the driver’s side, but before he got into his car, he looked over the roof, water dripping from his hair. “Call me. I’m a teacher and have two months of summer break ahead of me, so if you need anything?—”

He waved his hand and got in, started the car, and pulled away from the curb.

Meghan’s hair was completely wet. She pushed the luggage to the entrance door. Tapping the code into the key lock box, she bit her lip.

The two keys inside the lockbox should unlock the front entrance and the small apartment she’d booked. Meghan shoved the red one into the lock. She hauled her luggage inside the foyer and checked the pink tag attached to the keys—number one. Meghan looked at the four doors evenly spaced along the wall opposite the entrance. Her unit was the first on the left. Holding her breath, she unlocked its door. This could be good, or it could be really, really bad.

She stepped across the threshold. The door shut behind her with a loud thud. A happy grin spread across her face—finally , a break.

The apartment looked new. IKEA furniture tastefully filled the space. A small kitchenette in the corner offered everything she needed, just as the online pictures showed.

Meghan kicked off her wet shoes and dragged her luggage to the dresser next to a queen-size bed. She let it stand there and walked across the room to the corner sofa. Her knapsack landed with a soft thud on the small desk set against the side of the sectional; she sank into the soft cushions.

“Thank you,” she whispered and propped her feet up on the coffee table. The window to her right overlooked a cobblestone town square bordered by a church, the high school, a classical-style building with a yellow facade much like the train station, and a bank.

Should she unpack, take a nap, or see if there was coffee in the cupboards? Meghan took off her wet windbreaker. Three steps, and she stood in front of the fridge. It was half the size of the one in her parents’ kitchen. Four magnets held up a small poster listing all the essentials, like the Wi-Fi password and the number for first responders. Perfect. She logged into the network and then tugged at the fridge handle. A carton of what looked like milk, a half-dozen eggs, and? She picked up the small foiled-wrapped block. Meghan aimed her camera at the text on the package, and voila, the app automatically translated—the word butter displayed on her screen .

I love you, Google.

Meghan opened the bottom of the cupboard next to the fridge and pulled out a frying pan. The knob on the hot plate turned with ease, and a few minutes later, three eggs sizzled in a dab of butter. The inspection of the uppers yielded a packet of instant coffee. Not her favorite, but it would have to do.

She sunk back into the sofa, feet up, plate on her lap. Her hair was almost dry. This may be a good time to call home. Meghan bowed her head and breathed a quick prayer of thanks before she took the first bite. Then she reached for her phone and tapped the WhatsApp icon.

“Hey,” Mom picked up before the first ring finished. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“Just got in.” Meghan waved her fork in the air. “Let me show you the place.” She set the plate down and walked around the apartment.

“Looks great. How was the flight and the train?”

“Good.” She bit her lip before blurting out her concern about the man in the fedora. That would set Mom on edge, and she would insist that Meghan either call the police or get on the Prague Express and fly back home.

“Has anything interesting happened?” Mom’s voice was probing.

Meghan blew out her cheeks. Her mother had superpowers.

“I met this guy.”

“A guy?”

“He is a local high school teacher.”

“How did you meet him? Online?”

Meghan sat back on the sofa and reached for her cold eggs.

“At the train station. He helped me with my luggage.” Meghan shoved a fork-full into her mouth, omitting the part about Oliver giving her a lift.

Mom looked at her, practically glaring on the screen. “If you just met, how would you know he is a high school teacher?”

Fair question. Meghan swallowed. “A girl at the train station told me.”

Mom frowned. “You know how this sounds, don’t you.”

“Mom.”

“Meghan—”

“I’m not a child.”

“I’m not saying you are, but you know absolutely no one over there. Should anything happen?—”

“Nothing will happen. This is a small town; I can’t imagine that some major organized crime gang is operating here. There is nothing around but a high school and an old church. Look.”

Meghan walked to the window and panned across the wet village square. Her arm froze.

“Bad people could be anywhere, especially in places you would not suspect.”

She stepped away from the window.

“Meghan?”

“Mom, I’ll let you go and take a nap.”

“Message me when you get up, so I know you are okay.”

“Sure, I—” Her words dissolved into the air as a familiar black car pulled out of the parking spot in front of the high school and drove off. She disconnected the call. If Mom caught on, she would be on the first plane to Prague, knocking at her door tomorrow morning.

Meghan paced around the apartment, her heart drumming in her ears. Was she being paranoid, or did the man on the train follow Oliver’s car to the Airbnb? She bit the nail on her index finger. If she called Oliver?—

Her index finger tapped her contacts. His name popped up on the screen.

Can I trust him? God?

Standing in front of her window again, she scanned the village square. The rain kept coming. No one was outside. She took a calming breath. This was a safe place. Another circle around the room. Her hand brushed over the dark screen. It lit up, Oliver’s contact still there. Her finger hovered over the icons. Phone or text?

She tapped the little bubble and let her fingers glide over the smooth screen.

Hey

Hey back. How is your place?

Love it. Thx for the lift

NP

Can I ask you a favor

Shoot

She paused. Unpacking her paranoid mind to a virtual stranger would most likely warn him off.

Would you know where the closest car rental company is?

That was lame; she could have googled it.

Would you like me to take you there?

I need to call them and ask if they have an automatic.

Mom made sure Meghan understood that most Europeans drove a standard, and that required a bit of skill.

Okay

A link popped up on her screen. He was efficient, if nothing else. Meghan smiled. Not willing to end the conversation, she risked being a total nuisance.

One more thing. Could you drive me to a grocery store tomorrow?

Did she sound too needy?

I’m glad you asked; I was planning to make a run.

She tapped a happy face emoji.

What time should I pick you up?

Do you have to work at the school?

I don’t work on Saturdays, and it’s summer break.

Of course. Now he is going to think I’m a total dunce.

8?

See you then.

Setting the phone down, she stretched onto the sofa. The luggage could wait. There would be plenty of time to unpack later. Meghan reached for the soft blanket draped over the armrest. But before she wrapped herself in it, she glanced at the door. She got up and pulled the key out of her pocket. Pushing it into the lock, she ensured the door was secure and turned the key half-way. Another one of Mom’s tricks. This way, no one could unlock the door from the outside, even if they had the right key.

Back on the sofa, Meghan pulled the blanket to her chin and closed her eyes.

* * *

He read her message with a twinge of guilt. She was starting to trust him. Wasn’t that the plan? Oliver tapped the surveillance camera icon on his phone and reviewed the footage from the time he left the apartment building. There he was again. He must have followed them to the Airbnb, although Oliver hadn’t spotted someone trailing his car. So now Robert knew where Meghan was staying. Oliver chewed on his cheek. How would he tell Meghan she was in danger without showing his hand?

Be professional .

She was cute. But he could handle himself. Oliver thought of the way Meghan fiddled with her phone, trying to evade his attention, most likely texting her mom. He chuckled at the memory. Then his mood soured. She was alone, unaware of Robert, who was trying to put an end to a story she had no idea existed.

People like Robert kindled a fire deep in his gut. They thought they were above the law. Oliver had been chasing after individuals just like Robert for the past ten years. A decade of his life was gone. After his thirtieth birthday, he had promised himself that this would be his last assignment. He would hand in his resignation once he had solved this case of missing assets and documents. Documents that listed the stolen art and other valuables of several Jewish families from this area, including the Weiss family gold. He had been working on this case for the past two years without blowing his cover. Fred’s death threw a wrench into the operation. But Meghan seemed to have a good head on her shoulders.

I would keep her safe no matter what.

When she had accepted his offered hand, as she exited his car, and he felt her fingers gently rest against his palm, something had shifted inside him.

You have a job. Besides, she lives across the ocean.

Meghan didn’t strike him as a woman looking for a fling. He had been reading people for a decade. It was his job to assess a suspect or the trustworthiness of a witness. This woman was pretty but also strong and independent. A timid girl would not get into a stranger’s car, even in a small village.

Oliver tapped the screen on his phone to re-watch the recorded feed from his surveillance camera. Frowning, he stopped the video and pinched the image to increase the size.

And what is he doing? Taking pictures?

Oliver narrowed his eyes.

I may have to talk with that man.

Even though he had not crossed the line. Not yet. Then again, taking pictures of someone without their permission was a crime. Oliver clicked his tongue. Following an agent on duty? Maybe it was a time to take him in.

Does he know I work for the bureau?

Oliver resumed the video recording. What was Robert planning to do with the pictures?

* * *

It was just past five o’clock in the morning when Oliver’s eyes flew open. His mind was mulling over yesterday’s events—and her. He lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, wondering what the best way would be to come clean with her. For some reason, he felt he owed her the truth.

He looked at his phone. It was too early to drive to her place, but he could review the surveillance footage one more time. Oliver got up, walked to the kitchen, and made himself coffee. His mother’s room was upstairs, so he didn’t need to worry about waking her up.

Oliver sat in the living room and opened his laptop. He sipped his coffee while he waited for the video to load. Inspecting it on a larger screen might reveal something he hadn’t noticed before. He set his cup down and leaned closer. Was that a second car on the opposite side of the square? Also taking pictures of the area? This looked very much like a small recon operation. He needed to send this to the office. A tech team could isolate some images and perhaps identify who was sitting in the second vehicle. A few taps on the screen and the information was forwarded to his boss. Another copy went to Yarda, his partner. Oliver glanced at the clock on the bottom of his screen. There was enough time to type and file his reports. Writing out all the details usually helped him to consider what he had seen from several different angles. Once he sent his report to each appropriate department, he got up and carried his mug to the kitchen sink. It was time to drive to Meghan’s place and take her to the grocery store.

* * *

A ping against a windowpane woke her up. Meghan sat up as a second pebble hit the glass.

“What the?—”

Had she slept on the sofa all night? She pushed the blanket aside and walked to the window.

Oliver stood on the sidewalk, ready to toss another stone.

She waved at him. His face lit up with a smile. This guy was seriously cute. What were the chances he was single? But she couldn’t go there. Meghan patted her pocket for the phone. Empty. She looked around, locating her cell on the coffee table. One look at the screen confirmed that the sound was off.

Give me 5 minutes

OK

The luggage stood by the front door just as she had left it the night before. Wheeling it to the coffee table, Meghan wondered what to wear. She glanced out the window. It was cloudy, and there was no sign of the sun. Would it rain again?

She hoisted the suitcase on top of the coffee table and unzipped it. With her cosmetic bag in hand, Meghan rushed to the small bathroom and checked her reflection in the mirror. Did she care what he thought if she wore yesterday’s clothes? Everything else was wrinkled, and there was no time to search the apartment for an iron. Meghan brushed her teeth and glanced up. She could use a bit of makeup, but that would keep him waiting even longer. With a practiced motion, she pulled the elastic out of her hair and ran her fingers through it. Hoodie, in one hand, her cross-over bag in the other, she slipped on her shoes and walked briskly toward the door.

God, please keep me safe. Give me wisdom and guidance, especially when it comes to him.