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“Yup. Now get out of here. I need to get ready for this …” he put up his fingers and did air quotes, “job.”
“If you need any help,” Canaan called out over his shoulder. “Don’t call me. I’m busy being an idiot with my mate.”
Ryland huffed, but he turned on his podcast and continued running, cursing his older brother for giving him yet another strange job.
THREE
CAROLINE
As Caroline ran down the streets of Paris, she was struck with a realization.
She couldn’t go back to her hotel.
It would lead the man in black right to her home base, and she’d done enough true crime reporting to knowthatwas a bad, bad, bad idea.
No. Caroline knew what she had to do.
She had to find a hiding place while she figured out her next steps. Go to the police. Call Joan. Something. Without wasting time to check over her shoulder to see if anyone was trailing her, she ducked into a pastry shop. She pulled out her phone and called Joan.
“The man in black is definitely following me,” Caroline whispered. She didn’t want to believe it, and maybe, if she kept her voice low, it wouldn’t have to be true.
Joan sighed. “I really don’t think this is funny. Or a big deal. Maybe you’re just shaken. Scared. You’ve got a job to do, and you won’t get out of it. This isn’t helping you, Caroline. Need I remind you that you are on a tight deadline?”
Caroline looked down at her phone in anger. “Seriously?” Joan was choosingthismoment to threaten her more? The nerve the woman had.
“If you want to make it in this business,” Joan continued in that harsh tone of hers, “you’re gonna have to toughen up. Don’t forget our deal.”
“How could I?”
Their deal was the only reason Caroline was in Europe chasing after an active murderer. That wasn’t her usual speed. Joan was pulling all the strings, and Caroline hated it.
In a fury, Caroline ended the call and shoved her phone into her pocket. If Joan didn’t believe her, what were the chances the police would? She didn’t speak the native tongue and would have one hell of a hard time explaining that she was indeed chasing a murderer … who might be chasing her right back.
Maybe the police would ask her to leave the country for her own safety, and Caroline was starting to think maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.
Even if that would put her in far more danger with Joan.
She first needed to get back to the hotel, where she could hide behind a dead-bolted door as she figured out her next move.
From the pastry shop, she ordered a taxi, and she didn’t step out onto the curb until she was sure her ride was waiting for her.
She jumped in the car and gave the hotel address to the driver. She asked him if any cars were following them, but he only stared at her. He probably hadn’t understood her question.
When Caroline got to the hotel, she waved down the only staff member that spoke English.
“I think someone is after me. Please make sure no one knows what floor I’m on.”
The man sniffed and reddened, insulted. “Mademoiselle, ve never tell anyvone vhere our guests are. It is a security measure.”
Relieved, Caroline rushed to her room, locked it, and jammed the deadbolt into place. She was just about ready to crash on the bed, exhausted by the whole ordeal, but she stopped in the small hallway.
Someone had been in her room, so much for security.
There … right in her pillow … was a dagger.
It stuck up from the torn material. Yet that wasn’t the most terrifying thing from the scene displayed before her.
There was a rat.
