Chapter Nine

Zandra stared out the window and past the railroad tracks to the train station beyond. They were one train stop away from Lucerne now, and it shouldn’t be too long before they were on their way again.

She yawned and stretched her arms above her head. Maybe she should take a quick nap, get herself well rested before she started the shoot. But there was something niggling in the back of her brain, something that was running in the background as she’d negotiated the last twenty-four hours. Not that she could do anything about it. If there was any chance of pulling it out while wanting to pull it out, whatever it was would have to flow free on its own.

“You’re playing with your phone again,” Blake said. “Are you going to do another of those live things?”

He sat across from her, an uber-sexy, lazy grin on his face as he cocked his head to one side. The guy was hands-down hot, all right. How she’d not noticed that before was a ridiculous oversight on her part.

“No. Actually, I’m going to do a post and a story.” She searched her phone’s gallery and picked out a few choice photos from the selection of countryside, small towns, churches, and homes that lined the railroad tracks from Stuttgart. “There,” she said as she uploaded them to her feed.

She held the phone out and hit the video icon. “We’re on our way to Lucerne, but there’s been a slight change of plans.” She turned and panned the shot toward her companion. “This guy is now my travel buddy. Remember him from yesterday?” She switched the screen back and made a face. “Wish me luck.” Chuckling, she ended the video.

She looked up and caught the slight frown on Blake’s forehead. “What?”

“Did you just put me on your Instagram page?”

“Yeah. It’s just a story, though,” she said. “They’re gone in twenty-four hours.”

She pulled her backpack toward her…and there was that niggling feeling again. Her fingers touched the padlock Blake had insisted she put on her backpack yesterday. Without thinking, she turned each dial, stopping at each number with the kind of precision that would make her own parents proud—as if any of that counted at all.

As the numbers clicked into place in her brain, she raised her head until her gaze met Blake’s. “The combination,” she said, indicating the padlock in her hand. “This was the date I sold my first photograph.”

His eyes widened slightly, then he shrugged. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

Wow. She wasn’t wrong. That day had been amazing, in some ways just as good as the day a few weeks ago when she’d gotten word that Flights and Sights wanted to offer her a field position. “Why?” she finally asked. “Why would you choose that number?”

“Why not? I had to give you a number you’d remember.”

His tone was cool, neutral, like maybe that really truly was the reason. Except…

Zandra sat up in her seat and tilted her head to one side. “That’d make sense, only the combination was already set when you handed the padlock over yesterday.”

“Maybe I set it on the plane, okay?”

“Okay, but—”

“Are we really going to talk about a particular combination?” He turned away, stared out the window to the train station beyond it, but not before she caught a flash of something in his eyes.

“Sure. Unless it’s such a big deal that you’d rather not discuss it.” She stared at him intently, not wanting to miss anything that would give some insight into his true feelings.

“I just remembered how excited you were about selling your first photo, that’s all.”

“Really? You didn’t seem all that thrilled at the time.”

“I was happy for you.”

She’d hung out that night at Anthony’s, one of her favorite spots near Pike Place Market, celebrating with her friends when Blake and her brother joined them. Actually, it looked more like Jackson had dragged Blake with him. “You looked like that was the last place you wanted to be that night.”

“Maybe I’m just a good actor.” He flashed her a cheesy grin.

“Nothing’s outside the realm of possibility.”

Zandra stopped as something blared over the train’s speakers at the same time that Blake sat up, his face a mask as he listened.

“Damn,” he muttered.

Other passengers in the compartment stood and gathered their belongings. “What’s happening?” Zandra asked, a well of fear beginning in the pit of her stomach. “Why are they all getting up? Where are they going?”

Blake scrubbed a hand over his face. “We need to disembark.”

“What? Why? I have two hours to get to Lucerne then find Madame Pruissard’s chocolate shop. We can’t disembark now.”

“Your choice.” He stood. “You can sit here or we can find another way to get to Lucerne. Because right now, the train’s not going anywhere since there’s a problem with the railroad track about a couple miles ahead. We can’t get through.”

“Wait. What? That’s not possible,” she protested, her brain still struggling to comprehend how this could happen now, of all the damned times. “My photo shoot…they’re waiting for me…”

She fought back the tide of panic, of the notion that she’d failed before she’d even started. What would she say to her parents? Jackson? Flights and Sights?

“Hey.” Blake smiled, hefted his pack onto his back, and secured the straps around his waist. “We’ll figure it out.”

She took a deep breath, nodded, and replaced the lock on her backpack. “You’re right. We’ll figure it out.”

In fact, she knew exactly what her next move would be.

…

Blake retraced his steps toward the front of the train station where he’d left Zandra. So much for getting any info out of train station officials. No one seemed to have a clue when the trains would be running again, and while he knew it wasn’t necessarily the truth, he couldn’t worry too much about that now.

He was like a salmon swimming upstream, against the stranded travelers that seemed to fill the entire building. But at the moment, there was only one stranded traveler he was concerned about.

He’d expected her to freak once she realized that they couldn’t continue. With any luck, the tracks would be replaced quickly, but who knew when it would happen? And while she’d raised her voice an octave or two, it wasn’t half as bad as he’d thought it’d be. In the end, she was unexpectedly calm about it.

A corner of his mouth crooked up as he rounded the corner. He had to admit, he admired that about her.

Blake stopped, frowning at the now-empty area in front of him. No Zandra. This was where he’d left her—with explicit instructions not to move. He was sure of it. He scanned his surroundings. Yep, there was the train station’s clock, and to the left were the reader boards that displayed arrival and departure times. This was exactly the place, only now she wasn’t there.

He blew out his breath and grounded himself. It was the best way to think clearly, to come up with viable answers as to where she might have gone. She wasn’t naïve—she wouldn’t go off with anyone. Then again, she didn’t stay put like she’d promised she would, either.

He raked his fingers through his hair and felt a trickle of sweat down the center of his back. Less than twenty-four hours and he’d lost a camera lens and Jackson’s sister.

Maybe she’d gone to the restroom.

But three minutes—and a polite question to a woman leaving the restroom area—later, he ruled out a potty break.

Damn it.

He scanned the area again, forcing himself to concentrate on seeing Zandra’s lucky white shirt, the one she’d insisted on wearing and had even taken the time to iron. Who the hell ironed a T-shirt?

No ironed T-shirt in sight.

Okay, he’d just call her. Problem solved.

He stopped, pulled out his cell phone, and groaned. No cell service. Fucking unbelievable.

Blake’s irritation rose with each tick of the clock, with each face he studied as he searched through the crowd. When he found her—because he would—it’d take everything in him not to yell at her. Did she honestly think he wouldn’t worry when she vanished into thin air? How hard was it to stay put for ten damn minutes?

Frustrated, he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Why the hell was he worrying in the first place? She was a grown woman. She didn’t need a keeper.

Never mind that “Zandra’s keeper” was essentially the definition of this mission.

Blake scanned the crowd again. There was a woman with a baby carriage. A man talking on his cell phone—lucky bastard. Two kids fighting while their parents stood close by, clearly ignoring them while they poured over a map.

Still no Zandra.

Blake stifled the irritation that raced through him and made himself breathe deeply. He could command a company of Special Forces soldiers with no problem. But Zandra? Jesus.