King's Treasure (Oil Kings Book 3) by Marie Johnston (great novels .TXT) 📗

my boots. Other than a few pictures of Ljuboten, the mountain peak that towered over us—because how could I not—I hadn’t taken many pictures. I hadn’t come here for photography and that thought turned the lemonade in my stomach. I should be doing something career related. Savvy had at least been working on a future, even if it hadn’t been the one she wanted. Or one with me.

Rina appeared at my side, standing closer than was necessary, her ankle boots sinking into the dirt.

“I don’t have a picture of her.” Humiliation left a sour note on my tongue. I’d never taken a picture of my wife. I had nothing to remember her by but the ring I kept in my luggage. I could see her in my mind, brilliant as the diamond that might still be on her finger. Would her image be so clear in six months?

“No picture?”

I bristled at her disbelieving tone. “No.”

“Why is she not here again?” Rina’s tone was deceptively innocent.

“Work” was all I said.

Thunk, flip. I shoveled my way down the row. Hector wanted to get the onions in this weekend. Snow might line the Ljuboten peak, but with the seasonal temperatures and the river close by, this was good land.

I could already tell the grass was going to be thick and lush here. The grass at home was sparse, and only the heartiest varieties could survive there. This was why I liked traveling the world, experiencing how each environment was different. If I traveled deeper into the mountains, or farther out into the rural areas, the land would be different. It was fascinating, and like Savvy, I wanted to do my best to preserve it.

But that’s not why you’re here.

I ground my teeth together.

Why today? I thought that, with time, being here would become easier. That I’d quit wanting to count my cash and catch a ride to Pristina so I could buy a plane ticket outta here.

Thunk. Flip.

I was close to the end of the row, but not ready to turn around and see Rina. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to work the lemonade off, until I was sweating so bad I had to take my ratty flannel off. Then I’d collapse into bed tonight and quit thinking about what I should do. Quit thinking about her.

“Xander.” Rina’s voice broke in at the same time Hector called my name.

Had he been trying to get my attention?

I straightened and ran my gloved hand over my brow. I needed a shower. I tried not to wash clothes too often, but what I was wearing would stink by tomorrow. I was sweaty, pissy, and dirty, and I probably smelled like I’d been working all week without a shower.

I hadn’t. Had I?

“Xander!” Hector called again. “There’s someone here to see you.”

That got me to spin around, spade forgotten as it hit the dirt. A spike of anticipation went through my gut, but I squashed it down. No way would it be who I wanted it to be. That was a fantasy that would never be fulfilled.

Had I upset someone in town? Often Hector sent me on small errands and either he or Rina went with me because of the language barrier. Sometimes, Hector stood back and let me muddle through the purchase while holding back laughter at my shitty attempts to speak anything but English.

I squinted into the sun, searching the area behind him. He stood on a stone patio he’d put in a couple years ago, having come out the back door of the tiny house he’d purchased only for the land it came with. No one else stood beside him.

“Who?”

Hector’s mouth turned up in a shit-eating grin and the air froze in my lungs. “She says she’s your wife.”

Chapter 13

Savvy

Eris led me through her small, tidy home. I left my suitcase by the door and clung to my backpack as I trailed her. New smells assailed my nose. Coffee—strong stuff. Baked bread that reminded my stomach I hadn’t eaten in hours. A mustiness that came with the age of the structure. We passed a set of wooden stairs that were currently stripped of all stain. A sander sat abandoned next to the railing.

From the outside, I’d thought the place would echo like an empty shell and have more drafts than DC during a blizzard, but I was wrong.

The main living area had a stunning wood beam ceiling that arched to a wall that made up the second floor. Furniture was minimal, but there didn’t need to be a lot. The outside of the house needed some TLC that it appeared to be getting in stages. The inside was simple, yet elegant. The wood plank floors had recently been redone and served as the focal piece for the house.

“This place is nice.”

“Thank you.”

I hated how relieved I was that Eris spoke English so well. My years of French had come in handier than I’d thought on my trip here, but since I’d landed in Pristina, I’d been an earnest mess, hoping that if I looked pathetic, whoever I was dealing with wouldn’t mind finding someone who spoke English or French.

As it was, I’d thrust the address at anyone who looked like they could get me where I needed to go. A bus ride to a smaller city and a cab ride later, I was here. I think it was a cab. By then, I’d been so tired and jet-lagged, I hadn’t cared if I was in danger as long as I could shut my eyes in the next few minutes.

But I was here. I’d made it.

All by my damn self. A tremble went through my body. Had it really been the first time I’d traveled alone?

It had. And not to some tourist destination that catered to the traveler at every stop. I was in the middle of a new country, around the world from home, and as Eris stepped out the back door onto a stone patio, I was surrounded by the