Rose
All I could see were people. Masses of them everywhere. I bumped my way through and around, ignoring the exclamations my haphazard movement was causing. Fingers slid across my elbow. I cut sideways. It might or might not have been Clio’s cousin making a grab for me. Or it might’ve been the other guy. But there was no way I was stopping to look back.
“Fire!” I yelled, trying to get people’s attention. But my voice was too breathy, and only a few heads turned my way. I zigzagged through the tourists until I saw an opening and then raced ahead. Back down the street we’d taken to get here, which was practically deserted. My second mistake. The first, of course, was not sticking to Alexis like glue. I ran on, half sliding on my sandaled feet, every step against the stone pavement a bone-jolting fire up my legs.
Running footsteps rang out behind me. A woman up ahead glanced back at the noise and then plastered herself against the side of a building to get out of the way. I ran past her. Thanks for nothing. It didn’t matter, though. I wasn’t going to stop anyway. Clio’s cousin could probably talk his way out of any suspicion.
No, I couldn’t stop. Not until I found the rest of our group. I had to get off this street. With my panting breaths roaring in my ears, I swung into a narrow street to the left, sliding into the rough stones on the side of a building. I shoved off and rushed forward. This wasn’t the alley we’d taken earlier, but signs hung out over doorways and shop windows.
Something crashed behind me. I glanced back. Clio’s cousin had knocked into a stack of empty milk crates about twenty feet back. I put on speed. Bright sunlight beckoned ahead. A man and a woman stepped out of a store. I leaped to the side and kept going, the woman’s squeak of surprise gone as quickly as it came.
Clio’s cousin yelled words I didn’t understand. Probably trying to get someone to stop me. I reached the main thoroughfare, and by some instinct, turned right—not the direction where our group was supposed to meet.
Five steps later I ducked into a busy souvenir shop, shutting the door gently behind me. I took off my sunglasses and edged away from the picture window, ending up behind a group of three tourists chatting in Japanese and examining Croatian flags. Everything in me still thrumming like a live wire, I rested a shaky hand on a table and tried to slow my breathing while I waited. Would he pass by? Or would he come into the store? If he did, there was nowhere I could hide.
Through the window, people strolled, took pictures, and gazed up at buildings. Still no sign of him. The cashier laughed along with a customer and then handed a shopping bag over a counter.
And then his balding head came into view. My breath caught in my throat. Walk on, just keep going. He paused and shielded his eyes against the sun. For a full five seconds. Then, finally, he lowered his hand and strode on.
I sucked in a raggedy breath, and then wound my way to the front window. I caught just a glimpse of his back before a tall man walking by blocked the view. I counted to thirty and then left the store. I couldn’t wait longer. As soon as he realized I wasn’t ahead of him, he’d surely come back this way.
I slipped in among the largest group of tourists I could find and forced myself to stroll.