A rush of breath exploded from Thomas' lungs as Nadia catapulted into him. Still weak, and a little tipsy, he was pushed backwards, just managing to keep them both upright. He'd caught her though. He wasn't going to let her fall.

The world settled after a moment, but the tremor in his legs remained — until he realised Nadia was the one shaking. "You're crying."

"No, I'm not!"

"Oh yes, you are."

He felt her move her head from side to side and heard a sniffle. An arm moved across his chest as she wiped her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie. Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, he handed over the neatly folded linen, then wrapped his arms around her quivering frame, holding her tight, and she melted into him.

When her hiccups became sighs, he held her away and looked down. The whites of her eyes shone under a sliver of moonlight, sparkling until she turned away and a mop of frizzy hair hid them.

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened," she said on a pout.

"Nadia —"

"I told you, it's nothing."

Thomas exhaled. The woman could be more obstinate than his father, and that was speaking volumes. "Tell me."

Silence. God. He wanted to rattle it out of her. But that wouldn't work. An ultimatum, then.

"Look, it's blatantly clear something happened, and there just might be a solution, so you'd damned well better tell me quick smart, or we can forget about the Inca Trail."

"We?"

He shrugged. "Us lawyers have means and ways." He didn't tell her he'd followed with every intent of bribing his way onto the tour. Bribing a way in for the two of them would be tricky.

Her mouth clamped shut into a sealed line.

Realising he'd prodded her enough, he waited. If she were going to speak, it would be in her own time. The tactic paid off.

"He" — she pulled away to wrap her arms around her chest and swallowed — "gave my pass to Savannah."

"Savannah?"

"The American." She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "You know, the hot one."

Thomas flinched at the venom in her tone and thought it a good thing she'd not had the pleasure of Beatrice. She glared at him, and he fumbled. "How, er — umm ... It was your ticket. It doesn't make sense —"

"I transferred the money to him — for both the tickets. Stupid me, hey?" Her hand fisted into her hair, and she sniffed. "Because he said I couldn't buy them in Australia — a frickin' firewall, or some shit like that." She scoffed. The next words were quieter, slower. "They were our birthday presents." Slender shoulders slumped. "If he ... If things were over between us, I was going to ask him to pay me back so I could stay over here a little longer." A thin veil of clouds swept across the sky, painting her face with shadows. "But the fucking arsehole —"

"Do you have the bank records?"

She blinked. "Yes, on my internet banking, but —"

"Come with me." He tugged her arm, dragging her along the alleyway and back towards the square.

"What the fuck, Thomas?"

"Just come, we don't have much time,"

To his surprise, she did. A small, cold hand slipped into his, and she half jogged to keep pace with his stride.

When they reached the Irish pub, he deposited her at the serving area and grabbed the attention of a gangly barman with a flick of his fingers. Nadia gaped at him. Well, he supposed, it wasn't often he took charge. It might not be in his nature, but it was in his breeding, and his training.

The man, a legitimate Irishman by his accent and colouring, bent over the bar to hear above the din.

"A shot of vodka." Thomas turned back and inspected Nadia's blotched face, her grey eyes hallowed in red, and adjusted his request. "Make that a double."

The man nodded, banged a glass down and poured. It wasn't any double Thomas had ever encountered — more like a quadruple. He presented a note, far more than quoted, and fired a pointed look that said, 'Keep them coming'.

The man smirked and turned to serve other customers.

Thomas pushed the liquor in front of her. "Drink."

The grey of her eyes rolled into white.

"Drink!"

She did, her face scrunched in a wince.

Thomas scanned the taproom and spotted an empty alcove. He blocked another couple with similar intentions as he shoved her in. The pair scowled at him. He met their stares until they turned away, muttering.

"Show me the transaction."

Her narrowed eyes fixed on him a moment, then her fingers tapped across the screen of her phone as she logged on to her bank account. "Got it."

He gave her his email, and she sent the account details across. The balance was a shock — she must be running on gas. But the black-and-white evidence satisfied his lawyers' mind: 'OurIncaTrailMoneyHappyBirthdayToUs.' A subsequent sequence of emails etched the case in stone.

Thomas looked up from his phone. "Stay here." He forced her eye contact, and she eventually rewarded him with a nod. "I mean it. I'll be back soon." He laid his hand on hers. "I promise."

A wan smile passed across her face.

With his heart in his chest, he left. His shoes untacked from the sticky floorboards in muted pops as he walked with determination towards the task at hand.

Thomas yanked open the door to the tour company, and briskly climbed the steps, ignoring how the movement at high altitude sent his head spinning. A young man peeped up from behind a scuffed wooden desk. Beyond, a banner pronounced the business as an ethical one and listed the social services it funded.

He filed the details in the back of his mind and returned his attention to the kid. "I need to speak to your boss."

The young man hesitated a moment, assessing him. Thomas could almost hear the boy's brain ticking away. "Sí, señor." A hand indicated for him to pass through a doorway on the right.

Entering, Thomas found himself midway through the information session. A lean man in his mid-twenties was talking in accented English to a group of twelve tourists who nodded deferentially. A mature man watched on, hands resting over his prominent midsection.

Bingo. Thomas stalked his target.

The man turned and smiled, displaying a gold crown. "Buenos noches, señor. I am Miguel, the manager here. How can I be of assistance?"

Thomas extended his hand and received a polite, but firm, shake. Here was a decent man. He inwardly sighed. A shame. "A young woman came earlier."

"Ah yes, there was a confusion with her pass. It seems it has been given to another." Miguel directed his gaze and Thomas followed it. Khai sat, hand clasped with Savannah's.

Thomas brought his attention to Miguel. "Yes, that man has taken advantage of my friend. I have the proof."

"Señor." The man raised his hands in a placating gesture." I must apologise, but we have our policies, and a lovers quarrel is not our business."

Thomas ground his teeth. If the cad thought he was going to get away with this scot-free, he was in for a rude awakening. "Sir". He pulled on a cold mask. "I do not mean to threaten, but I am a lawyer, and this man has committed fraud. Should my friend miss out on this opportunity, I would need to take the matter further. Your organisation has an excellent reputation. I very much doubt you would want to be embroiled in this mess."

Miguel squinted, and Thomas felt the usual grind in his stomach. He had the measure of this game but hated it nevertheless. He produced his phone and opened the documents Nadia had sent him.

Miguel read, face stern."Señor." His hands spread open. "I am truly sorry for your friend, but I do not know what I can do now. Everyone has registered — the accounts have been paid."

Thomas smiled. Check.

"Ah, well, I think there is something you can do." Feigning a demeanour of self-assurance, he placed his arm companionably around Miguel's shoulders, turning him away from the crowd and into the shadows. "I understand yours is a philanthropic institution." He paused for effect. "That you pride yourself on contributing to your community's poor and animal welfare."

Beside him, Miguel nodded but didn't speak.

"My dear man, I will offer you a resolution to this situation which will avoid any unpleasant repercussions and will, at the same time, significantly contribute to your mission."

The older man gulped.

"I will purchase two passes." His host started to pull back, but Thomas tightened his grip. "Adding an appropriate rate of inflation. I will also compensate for the additional porters: a triple bonus for them to work at short notice, the cost for last minute supplies, and ..." He let the silence hang between them for a moment. "I will make a generous donation to your charity."

He leaned forward and whispered an amount into Miguel's ear. The man jerked back. And checkmate.

"Shall we retire to your office? I understand there will be an early start tomorrow and there is much to be organised."

"Yes, señor. Yes!"

Thomas accompanied him into a small room, and they set their heads to business.

Half an hour later, Thomas' legs squeaked over brown vinyl as he slid back into the booth. Nadia sat in the corner, hunched over her Kindle, a clutter of empty shot glasses before her. She jumped when he plonked two large black bags on the table.

"What the hell are they?"

"Our baggage allowance for tomorrow — the rest we need to carry."

"For tomorrow?"

With relief, he shed his cloak of apparent confidence and smiled shyly. "You didn't think I would let you miss out, did you?" He squeezed her hand. "Besides, you're not the only one who has dreamed of doing this."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sí, señor — Yes, sir

Buenos noches, señor — Good evening, sir

Image sourced from: https://my.smithville.com/the-irish-lion-gallery/