The rolling green raced at us like a brick wall, while we tumbled down the Italian countryside, away from that 'moving metal deathtrap”' as he called it. The wind kicked out of me violently as we landed, and it took some time before our descent ended and I was able to recapture some of my lost air, along with the rest of my faculties at that.

  When I did come to, I found myself face to face with the handsome man, wrapped entirely in his arms. I could feel my face reddening, as my gaze lingered on his dark brown eyes and down to his soft looking lips.

  “You can get off me now,” the handsome man grunted, “your knee isn't exactly in the kindest of areas.”

  “Oh!” I yelped, rolling back off of something substantial in size. “Sorry,” I whimpered.

  “S'alright,” he sat up, rubbing his head, and dusting off his still impeccable suit.

  “What now?” I asked, incredulously.

  “We head to base?”

  “Where's that?”

  “Rome.”

  “Good,” I said, standing up and brushing grass off my chinos. “That's where I'm headed too.”

  “Not anymore,” the handsome man said, hopping to his feet and surveying the area. “Too much risk, you're staying with me.”

  “But my job--” I started up.

  “My job supersedes that,” he cut me off.

  “Excuse me!” I growled, “That's my livelihood. I literally just started every librarian's dream job. How about you, huh?”

  The handsome man paused in thought, before determining a direction. “Jack Welker, United States Special Intelligence....and you're my job, bookworm.”

  “You're...” I spat out confusedly, my eyes widening with disbelief. “You're a spy?”

  “Well, yes, that's part of what I do.”

  My mouth hung agape, my hands resting furtively against my hips. “What do you want with me?”

  Jack nodded me to follow along behind him. “To protect you.”

  “Why...why am I in danger?” I followed along beside him, guffawing.

  “Because of you're father. Lionel. Outside forces are less than pleased with his humanitarian efforts at the embassy. His work goes against their machinations.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Who would want to do anything to us?” I wrenched my hands, looking back behind us as streams of paranoia seeped into my head.

  “There's a lot of bad people in the world.” Jack said, stepping up to a small dirt path that laid opposite the railway. Alongside it rested a lightly traveled road, that had still been broken up through the test of time.

  Across the road, sat a dilapidated little gas station and convenience store, that looked as though it had sparing visitors from day to day, let alone week to week. Outside lingered several leather clad young men by their motorcycles, surrounding and haranguing a visibly distressed young woman by her car, who was trying to fill up her tank. The aggressive young men playing with butterfly knives lazily, yet menacingly beside the young woman.

  “Sometimes they're right in front of you.” Jack said, drawing my attention to the situation and the bikes. “Maybe we found a ride outta here after all.”

  “What are you gonna do?” I asked with concern.

  Jack grinned. “Ask nicely.”

  We crossed the road, making way for the group, overhearing their conversation in Italian as we closed, and being able to proudly use my comprehension of Italian, and not just when thinking of food that I'd like to order and consume with great immediacy.

  “C'mon baby,” the presumed leader of the gang of thugs leaned out in front, accosting the young woman. “It can be real lonely out here in the sticks. Cold and lonely,” he winked awkwardly. “Want someone to warm ya up?”

  “I'm meeting my boyfriend,” the woman stuttered, reaching to remove the gas nozzle from her now filled little Fiat.

  “What's the hurry,” the heavily tattooed hand from the leader pushed firm on the gas nozzle, holding it in place. “We're just talking,” he laughed, sounding off similar chuckles from his compatriots.

  “I'm sure talking gets people like you nowhere,” Jack chimed in, sashaying towards the three men.

  The leader scowled, acknowledging Jack. “It gets people like you lost.” He then noticed me. “And people like you found,” licking his lips lasciviously.

  “Oh,” I said, my brow arching high. “I can't imagine that line's ever worked,” I thought to myself, but mistakenly said aloud.

  The man's face contorted like an angry clown, as he flicked his butterfly knife around in my direction, his boys huddling around him as well, while the distressed woman stumbled back against her car. “Want to say that again?” the leader rallied.

  “She doesn't have to,” Jack spoke up, “everyone was thinking it.”

  “Why you--” The leader hissed, before a roundhouse kick leveled him, sending him flying into their bikes, and knocking them over like dominoes.

  Jack beamed a cocky grin at his work. I loved it.

  The other thugs looked on in astonishment, sharing a glance between each other, before charging him, but were just as quickly dispatched with a few precise evasive tactics and strikes.

  “Sorry for all the commotion,” Jack said to the woman. “I hope your day gets better from here on out.”

  “Th-thank you,” the woman coughed up, before getting into her car and speeding off.

  “That was amazing,” I said, staring at the messy group of thugs moaning in pain on the ground. “But...” I watched the woman barreling down the road in her car idly. “What about our ride?”

  “Not to worry,” Jack said, picking up and dusting off the leader's motorcycle. “I got that covered. ”Jack extended his hand to the leader. “Let that be a lessen to you. Now...keys please?”

  The leader flinched, before scrambling to retrieve the keys for Jack.

  “Thank you,” Jack calmly retorted, and revved up the engine, flagging me over.

  I cautiously approached. I'd had never been on a motorcycle before, and equally feared, and longed for something like this, as I looked at the darkening sky. “We won't make it before night. Where will we go?”

  “It's alright,” Jack grinned. “I know a place.”