Free Seducing the Accomplice by Jennifer Morey

red dining area, a door led to a sprawling balcony and windows covered most the wall. All the blinds were closed.
    Earlier, she’d seen a pathway that wound its way between their villa and the one next to it and wondered if it led to the coast. Calan had told her the villa had a view of the sea. She’d love to take a long walk in the morning but doubted they’d have time. She didn’t want the wrong people to see them, either.
    Leaning back against the couch, she watched the channels change with each press of Calan’s thumb. Tourist channel, weather, an old movie in a foreign language.
    “What if Murati doesn’t return?”
    “He will.”
    “What if someone gets to him first?”
    “They won’t.”
    Rolling her head against the back of the couch, she looked at him. “Do you think he’s involved with whomever is after you?”
    He stopped surfing to return her look. Yeah, yeah, she was asking questions again.
    “Is there a ferry that leaves from somewhere near here?” she asked just to be annoying.
    He resumed surfing.
    “I’m sure we could find one,” she said.
    “I’m sure we could.” He sounded sarcastic.
    “I don’t understand why you think someone would follow me home.” The only thing she was sure of was that he had a deeply personal reason for not wanting her to go home.
    He stopped surfing to look over at her again. “You’re staying, so don’t argue about it anymore.”
    “I’m not arguing. I’m just saying, no one would follow me home if I took a ferry to Italy and went home.”
    “You don’t know that for sure.”
    “Neither do you,” she countered.
    “You’d travel home with a fake passport?”
    She looked away, unable to keep her uncertainty from showing. “I don’t want to but I will.”
    “You want to get away from me that bad?”
    She lifted her head off the back of the couch and didn’t know what to say. She wanted to be with him, but not like this.
    Leaving the TV on a travel channel, Calan leaned forward and put the remote down on the coffee table. “You’re staying.”
    “Why are you so worried?” Somehow she’d get him to talk.
    “They’re going to assume you know about the money.”
    She decided to go along with his reasoning for a little longer. Maybe something would compel him to tell her the truth. “So? If I leave without it, they have no reason to come after me.”
    “Even if they knew you didn’t take it with you, they’ll assume you know how to find me. And when they can’t find me, where do you think they’ll go for answers?”
    “You’re that sure they won’t find you?”
    He looked back at her from his slightly forward position on the couch in silent answer.
    Did he think he was that good? “They found out you were at the embassy with me.”
    That reminder cleared some of his overconfidence. He didn’t know who he was dealing with and until he did he had no way of knowing what they were capable of.
    No more tap dancing. It was time to get to the point. “Why is it so important to you that I stay?”
    After meeting her eyes for several seconds, he sighed and she saw him relent to something, some thought or knowledge that he’d kept from her until now.
    “There has to be a reason,” she persisted, leaning forward like him to bring her face closer to his. “You’re concerned for my safety, but more than that is driving you.”
    As he blinked, a shield vanished to reveal resignation filled with sorrow. He was going to tell her.
    She dared not move or say anything, just let him take his time to form thoughts into words, thoughts she could feel were deeply rooted and painful to bring to the surface.
    “I’ve been after a man for a long time,” he finally said. “For years.”
    “Who?”
    “A terrorist.”
    Given all that had happened, his revelation came as no great surprise. “Why were you after him?”
    “He was hard to track,” he said as if she hadn’t asked the question. “Every time I found out where he was, he always