Instead, I leaned in until my face was no more than a foot from hers. Close enough to notice the nearly invisible freckle on her left cheek. The dampness gathering at the corners of her eyes. The way her lips parted slightly as she looked at me.
Brain chemistry. That’s all this is.
“I’m going to protect you,” I said. “No matter what happens.”
She sucked in her bottom lip, worrying it back and forth.
“But I need you to hold on, Grace. Just a little longer.” I held her gaze, willing her to hear me. To come back from wherever she’d gone. “Can you do that?”
For a long moment, she didn’t answer. Just stared at me with those green eyes that kept finding their way into my brain no matter how hard I tried to keep them out.
Then the fog lifted a fraction. She nodded. “I can do that.”
I should have let go. Should have stepped back, finished packing, gotten us moving.
But I held on for another beat.
Fuck. Don’t hug her again.
I released her and turned back to the suitcase. “Good. We leave in ten minutes.”
Outside her room, the cottage was a flurry of motion. Jean emerged with a small leather bag—heading to Lyon, he said, to stay with an old colleague from his academic days. Dmitry was on the phone in the main room, speaking German. Too bad I only knew enough of the language to order food and tell someone to fuck off.
I secured the egg in my travel pack and slung it across my body. Checked the windows out of habit. Ran through exit routes, contingencies, worst-case scenarios. There was no reason to believe Conrad Richter was on his way to Jean’s at this moment, but there was no reason to assume we were safe, either.
“Henri’s bought your train tickets,” Dmitry announced when he hung up. “He’s very excited to meet you.”
Jean kissed Grace on both cheeks, his hands gentle on her shoulders. “Take care of the egg, ma chérie.” His eyes crinkled. “And take care of the stubborn man with you.”
She nodded and said, “I’ll try.”
Jean threw his arms around me next. His grip was strong, and he clapped my back hard. When we separated, he gave me a wry smile. “My life was getting far too boring, Galahad. I appreciate the opportunity for another adventure.”
“Be safe.”
“Always.” He picked up his bag, and we were all moving. Jean locked the cottage behind us and left in his old Citroën. Dmitry took his car alone. I wasn’t ready to trust the Russian with Grace’s life, whether or not he was a confirmed PI, so we took the rental we’d arrived in, intending to meet him at the train station.
Grace stared out the window for the entire hour to Paris, watching vineyards and stone walls blur past. She didn’t speak. Neither did I.
Just hold on, Grace.
I kept checking the mirrors. Kept running scenarios. Kept not thinking about the way she’d looked at me in the bedroom,like I was the only solid thing in a world that was falling apart around her.
She’s a job, Garrett. Remember that. You’ve protected beautiful women before. She’s no different.
Except, for fuck’s sake, shewas.
Gare de Lyon was the exact kind of chaos I preferred when I was trying to put distance between myself and anything. Crowds and announcements, lines that gave me time to scan our surroundings, and always Grace by my side. I kept my hand on her elbow, steering her through the terminal. She moved where I guided her, compliant in a way that worried me more than resistance would have.
What had been the final straw to sap the joy out of her?
It doesn’t matter. Get to the train.
The train was similar to the one we’d taken to Paris, with two seats on one side of the aisle and one on the other. I let Grace take the window seat and positioned myself on the aisle, between her and anyone approaching from inside the car. Dmitry sat across the aisle from us, already pulling out his phone.
Paris slid away. Suburbs gave way to countryside—green fields, farmhouses, and the occasional château rising from the hills.
And still, Ms. Sunshine said nothing.
