She stared out the window while I watched the other passengers. An older couple three rows up. A businessman with a laptop. A woman with young kids who’d clearly had too much sugar and were screaming for a movie.
None of them pinged my threat assessment. But I remained on high alert anyway.
“When we arrive,” Dmitry said, leaning across the aisle, “I have a rental car booked and will drive us to the hotel where Henri is staying. He’s secured us rooms for tonight.”
“What’s he going to do with the egg if Grace gives it to him? If you suspect Kessler’s after us, what’s to stop him from going after Henri?”
“He has resources.” Dmitry shrugged. “We’ll figure out the details once we’re there.”
Not much of an answer.
Dmitry settled into his seat and closed his eyes for a nap. I kept my attention on the car, but my peripheral vision stayed locked on Grace.
She was fading. The brightness that radiated from her was dimming in real time. Her shoulders had curved inward. Her hands lay still in her lap instead of gesturing, fidgeting, reaching for things the way they usually did. She hadn’t even opened one of her romance novels since at least this morning.
The woman who’d apparently inspired so much in her life may as well have been a stranger. And now Grace was on a train to Zurich with a Russian man who knew more about her grandmother than she did.
And with me. A man who’d kissed her and then claimed it hadn’t meant anything.
It didn’t mean anything. It was brain chemistry. Proximity and danger and?—
She sniffled.
Fuck.
Without moving my head, I shifted my gaze to see her. Her eyes were glistening. She blinked. Once. Twice. Her jaw tightened as she turned fully toward the window to hide it. But it was dark outside, and the window reflected everything I needed to see. Tears.
She wiped them away quickly. Sniffled quietly.
And finally her shoulders shuddered.
“Don’t cry,” I said.
Brilliant, Garrett. Really fucking helpful.
She nodded. Pressed her lips together. Trying to be brave, trying to hold on like I’d told her to. But I leaned forward and faced her—stupid mistake. Her tears kept coming, sliding down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them. Her breath hitched once, then again.
She’ll be fine.
She definitely was not going to be fine.
I lifted the armrest between us.
That’s a mistake, Garrett. You’ll regret this.
Past her in the window, I checked Dmitry’s reflection. His jaw was slack, either asleep or putting on a good show.
Who cares if he sees this?
I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her against my side.
She stiffened for half a second. Then she turned toward me, her face pressing into my shoulder, and the dam broke. She cried. Oh my fuck, but she cried. She tried to muffle the sobs against my shirt, but her whole body trembled as her tears kept falling.
My other hand moved to her head and stroked her hair without my permission.
You’re supposed to be protecting her, not?—
Not what? Comforting her? Being human?
