She caught glimpses of the surrounding buildings as they passed, trying to get an impression of where they were. Names of restaurants, stores, and businesses glowed and flashed in the misty drizzle; the unfamiliar language made Cassie feel as if her senses were overloaded.
They crossed a street and she realized that the traffic had died down. Although she hadn’t checked the time for a while, she thought it must be well after seven p.m. She felt exhausted, and wondered how far away the backpackers’ lodge was, and what she would do if they had no space available.
The sign on their right was a supermarket, she was sure. On the left, perhaps it was an entertainment of some kind. The sign flashed bright with neon. Not the red light district—if such a thing even existed in Milan—but not too far away from it, either.
She suddenly realized that they had gone too far, too fast, and all in silence.
They must have been walking for nearly a mile, beyond what any reasonable person would consider close by.
It was then that her memory caught up.
After the first crossroads, she had glanced left. Distracted and with the rain in her eyes she hadn’t taken in the sign she had seen—not a large, flashing notice but a more modest sign with black lettering on white.
“Pensione.”
That was the word Vadim had used. That was the Italian for backpackers’ lodge, or at any rate a close equivalent.
“Why are you slowing?” he asked, and now his tone was sharp.
Ahead, Cassie saw the blaze of waiting headlights. There was a white van parked on the opposite side of the street. It looked like Vadim was heading directly toward it.
He reached out and in a split second of pure terror, Cassie realized that he had sensed her hesitation, and was going to grab her arm.
CHAPTER THREE
Too late, Cassie realized she’d been stupid and talkative and way too trusting. In her need for companionship, she’d shared with this stranger that she was entirely alone in the world and that nobody knew where she was.
Scenarios of kidnapping, trafficking, and abuse spun through her mind. She had to escape.
Even as Vadim’s hand closed around her wrist, she pulled it away, and instead he caught hold of her jacket sleeve.
Fragile and worn, the fabric ripped, leaving only a shred of polyester lining in his grasp. Then she was free.
Cassie turned and sprinted back the way she had come.
Head bowed against the rain, she fled across the road as the light changed. Shouts and curses from behind told her that the large umbrella was proving more of a hindrance than a help to Vadim. She ducked left into a side street as a bus passed behind her, praying he hadn’t seen where she had gone, but another shout behind her told her that he had, and was following.
She made a right turn onto a busier street, and as she weaved through the slow-moving pedestrians, she tugged her jacket and beanie off, in case their colors would help him to spot her. She bundled the garments up under her arm, and reaching another crossroads, she glanced behind her as she turned left again.
Nobody seemed to be following, but he might still catch up—or, worse still, anticipate where she was going and be waiting there.
Ahead of her, a beacon of hope and safety, she saw the “Pensione” sign she’d spotted earlier. She couldn’t see Vadim anywhere.
Cassie sprinted toward it, praying that she could get inside, and out of danger, in time.
*
The blare of music from the guesthouse was audible from street level, where a flimsy, white-painted security gate stood ajar.
Pushing it open, Cassie thudded up the narrow wooden staircase. Voices, laughter, and the aroma of cigarette smoke wafted down to meet her.
She glanced behind her but the stairway was empty.
Perhaps he’d given up on the chase. Now that she’d gotten away, she wondered if she had exaggerated the threat. That parked van might have been a coincidence. Vadim could just have wanted her to come back to his place with him.
Either way, he hadn’t done what he’d promised, and he had tried to grab her as soon as she’d hesitated. Fresh terror surged inside her as she remembered how she’d only just managed to pull away.
She’d been such an idiot to blurt out to him that she was alone, that nobody knew where she was, that she was on a wild goose chase for a person who might never be found. Breathing hard, Cassie chastised herself for her appalling stupidity. It had felt like such a relief to share Jacqui’s story with a stranger who would not judge her. She hadn’t realized what else she might be sharing, too.
The security gate at the top of the stairs was closed. It led into a tiny foyer, which was unoccupied, but a button on the wall had a printed sign taped below it.
The words were in several different languages with English at the top.
“Ring for Service.”
Cassie rang, hoping somebody would hear the bell, because the music was deafening up here.
Please answer, she prayed.
Then the door at the other side of the foyer opened, and a strawberry-blonde woman of about Cassie’s age walked in. She looked surprised to see Cassie standing outside.
“Buona sera,” she greeted her.
“Do you speak English?” Cassie asked, praying that the woman was bilingual and would understand she needed to be let in quickly.
To Cassie’s relief she switched to German-accented English.
“How can I help you?”
“I need lodging urgently. Are there any rooms available here?”
The strawberry-blonde woman thought for a moment.
“No rooms,” she said, shaking her head, and Cassie
