War of Hearts(9)

Well, didn’t she sound like a charming wee thing. “If Callie agrees, I’ll need Thea’s scent and a list of her known abilities.”

Anticipation tingled in Conall’s blood. It was instinctual, primal. Deep down he knew Callie would do anything to live.

Meaning it was time for Conall to go hunting.





The bar and restaurant on Stolarska had a relaxed, happy vibe. It smelled of Guinness and good food, and its vibrant energy appealed to Thea. Stolarska was a clean, brick-paved street just off the thirteenth-century square in Kraków’s Old Town. It was teeming with tourists. Not great for anonymity but she’d make up the terrible waitress salary in tips.

That was if she got the job.

The bar was owned by an Irishman named Anthony Kerry and his Polish wife, Maja. When Thea had first inquired at the bar about the waitressing position advertised on the board outside, Anthony had appraised her with a gleam in his eyes.

Then as he conducted a casual interview in his office, he grew visibly unsure. She wasn’t the bubbliest person on earth. In fact, she was taciturn and no matter how desperate for cash she was, she just couldn’t force herself to play the part of super enthusiastic All-American girl. What she had to say next wouldn’t help matters.

“I lost my work visa, so I had to ask for new papers,” she lied. “I don’t have a bank account either. I need to be paid in cash.”

He looked incredulous. “You lost your visa? You mean that electronic document they send these days?”

Thea kept her expression carefully blank. “Yeah, that one.”

The Irishman considered this a moment. “Well, if you don’t have papers or any formal ID, I’d have to pay you less than the advertised salary.”

Of course, he would. They all did. Thea understood. She was a risk. They needed to get something out of it. She nodded.

“Do you know any Polish?” Anthony asked.

Several years ago, Thea had lived in Warsaw for nine months, which meant she knew some Polish. Ashforth had caught up with her and run her out of Poland, but she was hoping a U-turn would throw the bastard off her scent. “Znam troszk?. Wystarczaj?co, aby zrozumie?.”

I know a little. Enough to get by.

He nodded, satisfied. But then he frowned as he stared at her mouth. “Do you ever smile?”

She forced her mouth to curl at the corners.

Anthony smirked. “Not really what I was after.”

“I can smile and flirt with the best of them if it means bigger tips.”

Sensing her sincerity, he nodded. “Fine. We’ll give you a trial run. You start tomorrow. You can shadow Maja on the lunch shift and then you’re on your own for the dinner shift.”

Nodding, Thea asked, “What is the salary?”

He answered, and he lowballed her beyond what was even fair for her circumstances. Bastard. Still, she needed to make rent on the crappy apartment she’d just secured and hopefully her tips would more than make up for her new boss being an asshole.

He stood and Thea followed suit. Watching him rummage through a cupboard behind his desk, Thea dreaded the waitress work that awaited her. This urban life she led was so far from what she wanted deep inside, but she’d given up on the dream of having anything more a long time ago. All that mattered was surviving.

“Be here tomorrow at eleven thirty.” He turned and held out four items covered in thin plastic. “Your uniform. Two tank tops, two T-shirts. You can wear a skirt, jeans, or pants with it, just as long as it’s black. Skirts are preferred.”

Surprise, surprise. “I’ll wear jeans.” And she had no intention of wearing the tank tops, but he didn’t need to know that.

He sighed. “Maja will kill me for hiring the angry girl. Your only saving grace is you’re bloody gorgeous.”

Thea frowned. She didn’t consider herself angry. More like resolute, resigned, and older than her years. “I’m not angry.”

“Well, you’re something. Now out. I have things to do.”

Nice. “See you tomorrow.”

He didn’t answer and Thea made her way out into the busy restaurant. As she passed a waitress with long, dark blond hair, the young woman turned to her. “Did you get the job?” she asked with a Polish accent. It was easy to get by speaking English in Poland because most Polish people who worked in the tourist area had a a good grasp of the language.

Thea nodded.

The woman balanced her tray on one hand and held out the other. She smiled brightly. “I’m Zuzanna.”

Thea accepted the hand with a smile of her own. “Kate.” She used a different false name every time she moved country.

“When do you start?”

“Tomorrow. Lunch shift.”

Zuzanna smiled brighter. “I will see you tomorrow.”

Thea nodded and waved goodbye, reassured there would be at least one friendly face at her new job.

The train journey north to Kraków from Budapest had been a little over ten hours. Upon her arrival, she’d stayed in cheap hostels while she tried to find a landlord who would let her stay with none of the normal legalities. It put her in a shit position because it meant her landlord could turn her out anytime he pleased, but it was the only way. She couldn’t leave a paper trail. Although Thea had a talent for making people see what they wanted to see, she hated using that ability. It reminded her too much of what it felt like to be at the mercy of someone else. To feel invaded. To be stripped of what made you who you were.