Love in the City

By Livia Lang

Tenacious and driven, Nora allows nothing to stop her from reporting the truth. But when the petite journalist is sent to cover street protests in Istanbul, she witnesses a false flag attack and soon finds herself at the center of a far-reaching international conspiracy. Her only hope of escaping with the story comes in the form of a mysterious, handsome spy. 

Calculating and reserved, Odin is one of the best secret agents undercover in Turkey. He knows he should follow orders and leave the country before it spirals out of control. However, when he sees Nora being attacked by government thugs, he has to intervene. For reasons he can't understand, the pretty reporter suddenly makes him want to break all the rules.

Thrown together by chance, the two unlikely friends quickly realize they'll have one shot to get out alive. Will they be able to escape with proof of the conspirators trying to overthrow Turkey's democracy? And with everything else on the line, will these two stoic professionals be able to express their growing, red-hot attraction?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Livia Lang
• Release date: Mar 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393004226

Book preview

One

Nora Yackel strode purposefully through the crowd, directing the two men following her above the din. Her voice, normally low and restrained, was being pushed to its limits. Istanbul was always loud, but she had never heard roars like the ones the protesters were currently making.

Mike, can you get a shot of the street? There must be ten thousand people packed in here, and it'll make a great opening image. I also want close ups of all the protest signs, especially the ones in English.

Mike grunted and held his camera aloft, trying to get as much of the teeming mass into focus as possible. Nora had worked with him for three years and knew he'd somehow keep himself completely steady while filming, even as he was getting pushed constantly. Which was a good superpower to have, considering she was dodging elbows from every direction as the news team tried to move like salmon through the throngs of people.

It was packed, but the crowd could have been worse, in Nora’s opinion. She remembered when they had covered the protests in Singapore the year before. There had been twice as many people in the streets then, and most of them had carried weapons. The current crowd that surrounded her and her crew didn’t have any crowbars in their hands, so that was good.

She just hoped things stayed that way. There was an ugly tension in the air, making it hard to breathe. Anger drowned everyone in the area, and she got the feeling that it was close to spilling into chaos if the government made a wrong move.

The street itself was narrow, with multistory buildings on each side. It was typical of old Istanbul; the ground floor of each building housed clothing stores, kebab restaurants, and cafes serving hot tea. Most of these businesses had been closed up for the day, though, with heavy metal gates dropped in front of their windows for protection. The upper floors held apartments, and there were people hanging out of their living room windows, beating pots and pans loudly. The clanging just added to the general din of the street.

These protesters have been standing outside since early this morning, without any breaks. In fact, the crowd only seems to be growing with each hour. They are protesting the Turkish president’s recent education reforms that many are saying will create restrictions on the free speech of academics, Nora narrated into her microphone as they walked. The president is also cracking down on the press and the ability for people to protest her government. Many around us are chanting that she must step down, or face the consequences of a population that no longer wants her rule.

Nora always found that some of her best material flowed right in the middle of the action. As she walked on the cobblestone streets, absorbing the pulse of the neighborhood around her, she felt the words pouring off her tongue. As soon as she made it back to her hotel room, she'd start transcribing them into her article. It was a process she had done countless time over the last several years and it was moving her steadily up the ranks at the New Global Times, the premier international newspaper.

Harold, her story manager, was eyeing the crowd coolly as he walked behind her and Mike. Harold had been at the paper for over twenty years and had witnessed some of their biggest stories first hand. He kept the team on schedule, on budget, and on topic with his loud voice and New York accent. He was keeping quiet now, but Nora was comforted to have him near.

Suddenly, a group of men shoved past her, walking quickly and with purpose. She caught the expression of one as he nearly trod on her with his heavy black boot. The stranger’s eyes were steely and sent a cold shiver down her spine.

Did you see those guys? she turned to ask Mike. Talk about intense and creepy. I almost want to follow them and see what they are up to.

Half this crowd is angry and intense, Yackel. I don't think following some random protesters would be worthwhile. The chief just wants us to do a quick look at the street protests here and how it relates to Turkey's move to join the E.U. next year, Harold broke in. That’s our angle, and we need to stick with it. The quicker we are done, the quicker we go home.

Nora nodded her understanding, but her eyes continued to follow the group of men as they melted into the crowd. There was something about them that bothered her, but she wasn't sure what it was. They just gave her a feeling of deep, primal fear. Unfortunately, Harold was right – boogeymen and creepers were not on the menu for this story.

Her goal was to provide a short piece about the current protests, especially those calling for the president to step down. Interviews, some shots of the street, and then a five-minute speech by a government official who would profess that everything was fine and the city would soon return to normal.

Giving extra time to the government's mouthpiece had been the price of getting into the country with any type of press license at all. It left a bad taste in Nora's mouth, but she wasn't going to turn down a scoop over it.

And technically we don't even have permission to record this protest. We were given explicit instructions to stay away from 'dangerous areas' and to spend today interviewing paid government shills from the US Embassy, Nora thought to herself. Glad we decided to ditch them.

Alright, let's see if we can make it to a side street on the next block. It might be quiet enough to interview some of the protesters. Or at least get contact information for informal emails later to do some follow-up, she said at last, raising her hand to point towards their next stop.

Before they could move, a loud boom ripped through the air. It was so deafening that Nora and her crew covered their ears in surprise and pain. The ground itself seemed to rock under their feet, and windows shattered around them. For a fleeting moment, Nora was afraid that an earthquake had hit the city. Then smoke began to billow up from the square.

Bomb! she yelled, but she knew her team would never hear her. It was too loud now, as protesters screamed and began to run away from the explosion.

The crush of people almost picked her up off her feet as terrified faces streamed past. People had their mouths covered in scarves or were wearing Guy Fawkes masks, and they all blurred together as they stampeded. They didn't look where they were going, and some fell to the ground only to be crushed under the feet of other panicked protesters.

Nora's heart pounded, but she continued to fight forward, trying to get closer to the square; she needed to get solid photos of the attack. As far as she knew, most other journalists had been kept away for 'security reasons,' so she was likely to be the first and only reporter on the scene.

Suddenly her eyes began to sting and her throat felt like it was closing up. Any skin exposed to the air was being bathed in fire, and she fought the urge to fall to the ground, clutching her face. Right behind her, Mike stood with tears running down his face, and Harold was a few feet away, his nose and mouth covered with a handkerchief.

Tear gas, she gasped. Shit.

A cloud of tear gas lingered in the air, moving toward them slowly across the crowd. Soon she doubted she’d even be able to see.

Mike gripped her shoulder with his free hand, his other still hanging on for dear life to his camera as people pushed against him, and pulled her near enough to yell in her ear. Let's get close to the wall over there. It'll be safer.

Her eyes leaking uncontrollably, Nora shuffled through the crowd toward the wall Mike had pointed out. It was the front of a tall faded pink apartment building, which had a small stoop offering a microscopic amount of protection from the crowd. She furiously tried to work her way towards it, but it was slow going.