Page 51 of Serenity
A peep inside the bedroom revealed that Duke was still slow dancing with the sandman. The soft vibration of his nasal and throat passage confirmed it. After a long week of work and little to no sleep on our flight, his rest was vital. Undeterred by his lack of presence, I collected my purse and headed out the door to explore the new world around me.
An overcrowded boating dock surrounded us. Along with smaller boats, there were a couple of massive yachts along the harbor. The hum of running boat motors persisted like an instrumental to the city. Cicadas. So many of them chimed in, adding to the soundtrack a steady rattle. The constant lapping of the sea crashing against the rocky harbor packaged it all together in a bow.
Cobblestone streets lined colorful dwellings. Yellow-legged seagulls harassed tourists for morsels as if entitled to their food. Clothing lines strung from one building to another with various articles of apparel dancing in the wind. Motorists drove by on mopeds, seemingly absent a care in the world. Despite the lack of traffic lights, there were no accidents, which begged to question if we created the motorist problems in America.
Walking past several ristorantes, the smell of seafood caused my belly to tap dance. I hadn’t eaten since our time in the air. The small fishing town was known for its crustacean offerings, and seafood sounded like a dream. Without further thought to the matter, I was led by my nose inside one of the establishments. Seated outside, I ordered a glass of wine alongside mussel linguine. As I waited for the food, my stomach continued its performance, attempting to inform the world of my neglect.
Up and down the walkway, tourists ambled by alongside a few locals. On each side of the eatery, I noted the presence of armed men stationed at the entrance as well. Security, I supposed.
Mussel linguine finally arrived and was placed before me, settling the uproar in my belly. Absolutely perfect, it was. The taste of freshly made noodles, mozzarella, and Parmesan blended in harmony as a party of flavors danced in my mouth. I left little behind. Once finished, guilt forced me to grab a plate to go for Duke. I ordered him a grilled lobster with lemon linguine. While waiting for that to arrive, I resumed people-watching, marveling at mundane moments as if it were my first day on earth.
With the check paid, I rose with Duke’s food to go and made for the peach-colored house with green shutters. As I began walking from the restaurant, I noticed the armed Italian mens’ movements as well. With every step I took, theirs was successive. Though peculiar, I attempted to disregard their presence.
Quickened steps in sandals were met with the quickened booted feet of the armed men. Growing nerves encouraged me to hasten my pace in an attempt to test a theory that they were following me. At a quarter to 2, the sun was still high in the sky, but if a criminal sought to engage in felonious activity, daylight wouldn’t be a deterrent.
Passing the peach house with green shutters seemed to have slowed the men’s pace. As I turned down the alley beside the building, anxious fingers located my phone and began tapping toward Duke’s number. The length of my stiletto nails made what should have taken a few seconds a difficult task. A peep over my shoulder revealed one of the armed men stalking behind me.
With the phone to my ear, I listened to Duke’s line ring out, worrying when he didn’t answer. A gate leading into the house’s courtyard halted my worrisome steps. I tugged at the latch, simultaneously looking over my shoulder. The gunman was closing in on me.
With an exhale, the gate to the courtyard was unlocked. I used it as an opportunity to run inside the house and through the sliding doors. Panting and depleted of breath, I hurried up the steps and through the short hall where I thought I’d find Duke asleep.
He wasn’t.
“Duke?” Breathless, I called out, fighting nerves that were looming to overpower me. Left and right and behind me, I scanned, checking for a threat. Checking for Duke.
My hammering heart refused to be tamed. “Duke!” Louder, I yelled for the man who brought a sense of safety into my world.
“What’s wrong?”
A palliative sound of silken bass proffered the question. Emerging from a steamy shower, Duke appeared wrapped in nothing but a towel. The presence of water dripping down his limbs was a slight distraction. I’d never been so relieved. My disturbed soul flung into his arms in an instant.
“Oh God!” I mumbled into his wet chest. Toasted vanilla and bergamot established a cocktail of calm. Drunkenly, I lived in that moment.
His arm was wrapped around me, though when I looked up, his handsome features were coated in confusion. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I was being followed.”
The trembling of my voice startled me. Though frightened as I recalled my time headed back to the house, I barreled it out and gripped him tighter.
“By who, Bee?” Duke’s fingers were under my chin, forcing my head upward. “Who, baby?”
“I don’t know,” with shuttered eyes, I sighed. “I went to a restaurant where I noticed them. Two armed Italian men. I thought they were security for the ristorante, but as I left, they followed me here. I don’t know what their intentions were.”
“Aight. Let me get dressed, and I’ll look into it.”
Duke shifted slightly. My arms were still fastened around his waist.
“You’re safe.” A hand palmed the back of my head as a kiss was planted atop it. “You’re safe now. You know that, right?”
“Yes.” I squeezed tighter.
“Bee?”
“Hmm?”
“I need to get dressed. You have to let me go.”
“Oh.” Reluctantly, I dropped my arms from around him and stepped back. He moved to the luggage in the living room, leaving me standing in the bedroom. On the nightstand, I noticed the presence of a gun near his phone. I hadn’t noticed that earlier. Duke returned, half-dressed, to the room and sat on the bed, pulling me into his lap.