“We’ve got lots of people working on it,” Kynan says. “President Alexander has even personally put his resources to work.”
“That’s good,” I murmur. Opening my eyes, I realize Sin has gone stock-still as she carefully studies me, concern etched on her face.
She steps off the dais and walks toward me, coming to kneel on the thick carpet between my legs. It’s not in a sexual manner. Her arms settle on my thighs, her hands casually resting there in a silent show of support. At the end of this, I’ll damn well never walk away from her.
I cover one of her hands with my own as I tell Kynan, “Don’t call me anymore. Mercier is watching me.”
“Understood,” Kynan says. “And stay safe, okay?”
“Got it,” I say. “Find Malik.”
“Got it,” he replies before disconnecting.
“No word on your friend?” Sin asks. I had told her about Jameson, all the friends I’d made there, and about Malik—how he was presumably taken prisoner but could just as easily be dead.
I shake my head, reaching to tug on one of her curls. “You feel like getting something to eat?”
Smiling, she coyly tilts her head. “I thought you wanted me to try on all this lingerie for you?”
“I say we buy it all,” I reply, tossing the phone on the couch. I tug Sin up from the floor, urging her onto my lap. “You can give me a private show in my hotel room.”
“I like the sound of that,” she murmurs, leaning in to nuzzle my neck.
I stroke her back, relishing the feel of her in my arms. She’s definitely upped the stakes for me in this game, because now I have to keep her safe as well.
But she’s worth the extra effort.CHAPTER 18SinI’m in Paris at an outdoor cafe in June with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever known sitting across from me. Thanks to our shopping spree, my outfit manages to be both cute and sexy. I’m wearing a gray-and-white striped romper, a big floppy straw hat with a gray bow on the side of my head, one side tilted over my eye. It was a gift from Saint, who’d ended up buying me a few outfits he liked. Add on flat T-strapped sandals scattered with sparkly clear rhinestones, and I look like I belong exactly where I am.
Except none of this is enjoyable to me.
“Paris has been officially ruined,” I moan, running my index finger along my water glass. I hate coffee, but Saint is enjoying his espresso, so the café is not a total bust.
“Why’s that?” he asks, sitting in his chair with one leg crossed casually over the other. In fitted khaki pants, brown loafers, and a blue gingham checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, he looks good enough to eat.
“Hmm… let’s see,” I ponder, pursing my lips. Focusing on him, I lay it out. “I’m working for a Parisienne I despise, who’s holding me hostage to fulfill a debt my dad shouldn’t even owe since it was a medical condition and not his fault. I’ve been thrust back into working with you—a man who has every right to hate my guts because of how badly I’ve wronged him—and oh… a real biggie… I watched two men get their brains blown out.”
“Technically, one brain was blown out in London,” Saint points out with the corner of his mouth tilted up. “Don’t let that ruin Paris for you.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. The point is that it’s all tied to Julian Mercier, who resides in Paris. Therefore, he’s ruined this city for me.”
Saint scans the busy street where tourists and locals stroll along, enjoying the sunny weather. Slowly, he focuses my way. “I think you should consider bowing out.”
His words are ludicrous. I make a scoffing sound, then take a sip of my “fizzy” water—as it’s often called throughout Europe. “I can’t, and you know it. Not with my dad’s life in the balance.”
Saint uncrosses his legs, then leans forward slightly across the circular, wrought-iron table. “I’ve got contacts, Sin. I can get you and your dad to safety.”
“And what then? Live life looking over my shoulder while always fearful of Mercier tracking us down?”
Saint’s expression hardens slightly, his voice a little cold. “When I say I have contacts, I mean I have the kind that can erase you. Give you new lives. You could go wherever you want.”
I do believe he’s offering this from a position of care, but I also think there’s an element twined throughout that says it would be easier for him if I weren’t involved anymore. And what he’s offering would turn my world upside down, so I feel obligated to point out, “What if I don’t want to be erased? What if I like being Sin Westin—like living a life where I can freely walk down the street without worrying if someone will sneak up behind me to put a bullet in my brain?”