His Obsession

qu

ward lies ov

's coded messages, but I don't

ether -where the shiny and efficient tramway network that zips past old buildings left over from the Reformation. Several storefronts are he

avoid big crowds, but in truth, hiding amongst a sea of people is the best way to disappear altogether. Dad's first le

re without eye contact, but don't look like you're actively avoiding people, either. Just move like you've got places to be

It takes me twice as long to find it because I have a hell of a time figuring out the street signs, but I t

y an unused public computer in the back corner of the library. Hopefully I won't

type n

now where

lost at sea, buffeted by strong winds and aggressive currents. I hate feeling this out of

ward lies ov

but shit. How am I supposed to find them with a clue that vague? I bite my nails, deep in thought. I pa

, what

over my head, but that's the thing about mind games. All it comes down to is confidence - a fake it until you m

the fly. Was Iactuallygoing to sleep with him? Of course not, but there's no reason for him to know that. I may not be

r. He has a daughter to take care of, a life to get back to. Everything else -Luc

s no need to get him involved further. It's best if we cut

bout the heat of his touch. I don't have the luxury of time right now. The clock's ticking and I still don't have any idea what Dad's cod

he hard metal serving as a s

ward lies ov

first thing that pops up is a literal anatomical drawing of a heart, but I seriou

r figurative? Is it a reference to a piece of music, art, a time period in history? Considering how we're talking

r heart," I mumble aloud, conti

eckl

es over

u

first met. He was supposedly so enamored when he first laid eyes on h

a small sphere, no bigger than a quarter, with delicate floral engravings decorating its surface. The

first time I've ever thought anything of it. I always assumed it was a flaw in its design, a

solid pendant

efore I reach into my pocket and pull out my toolkit. I select my thinnest pick

folded pie

t skips

as this be

ghly three by three inches with black penmanship on one side. Another code. There's a

I murmur to myself, rec

letters at a time for six rows. Once everything's aligned, I need to read the message vertically, top to botto

t behind me. The man is agoliath. He's at least six foot seven and probably more than three hundred pounds of pure, powerful muscle. He's got a mean mug, the kind

ps, one hand swooping in to g

him with a front kick to his stomach. I normally don't resort to

A few books rattle off onto the floor. The sudden commotion dra

ink, he's charging at me with the full force of a typhoon. He wants the pi

rd ru

ale Fortune, there's a good chance other people might,

kle me, I shove the piece of p

you bitch!"

ons con

ainst the nearest wall. He lifts me a good foot or so in the air, my legs dangling

rry written all over their faces. Nobody makes a move, though, too af

of me kind of wi

I spit. My attac

out," h

hell!"

e presses a button and the blade springs open, sharp e

spit it out, I'll just h

ach roll. This is

flicker across my vision, but I don't stop fighting. I manage

't figure out if I've imagined it or not. Only when I catch a glimpse of dark brown hair and the familia

" I rasp out just as Gabriel