AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Then she needed to find the Le Grand Hotel and find Cain.
* * *
Fuck.
Cain paced the hotel suite at the Le Grand Hotel. He didn’t pay attention to the luxurious Art Deco furnishings, or the view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance.
Jet. He had to find her. He ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time. It was loose around his shoulders.
His chest was tight. He wasn’t used to feeling panic. His ability to stay calm in the worst situations was a thing of legend with his CIA colleagues.
He’d stopped feeling panic as a very young kid. Once he’d realized it never did any good. He’d vowed to never feel that way again.
Was she hurt?The idea of even the smallest scratch on her had rage welling up inside him.
He’d called Killian, who’d chewed him out. To say Killian was pissed was like calling a nuclear inferno a small blaze. He and Devyn were on their way to Paris.
If Jet was hurt, Killian wouldn’t have to kill Cain, he’d do it himself.
The laptop on the table chimed and he whirled. He saw a video call from the agents at the local office. He tapped and he saw the three of them—two men and a woman—sitting around a conference table.
He leaned over. “What have you got?”
“The car that was used to snatch her was stolen,” the head agent, David Henke, said. “We have no way to track it. We’re searching CCTV for the plate to see where it is in Paris.”
Cain growled. “Not good enough. I need a locationnow.” He straightened and kicked one of the chairs.
“We’re working on it, Shade. It’ll take time.”
“She might not have time.”
“You’re worked up over this mission.” Henke frowned, then pulled his glasses off and cleaned them with a handkerchief. “It’s not like you.”
It wasn’t the mission he was worked up about. It was Jet.
He didn’t know Henke well enough. He wasn’t planning to confide in him. “She has the data chip on her. Find where they took her.”
He ended the call. There was a knock at the door, and he frowned. Reaching back, he drew out his Glock 19. He hadn’t ordered room service, and no one knew he was there.
He crossed the plush carpet and looked through the peephole.
His heart slapped against his ribs, and he yanked the door open.
Jet stood there in bare feet, clothes bedraggled, and her damp hair sticking to her head.
She raised a hand. “Hi.”
He slapped the gun on the lacquered side table and yanked her inside. He slammed the door closed, then pulled her to him.
“Fucking hell.” He pressed his face to her hair and held on tight.
She hugged him back, her hands clenching on his shirt. “I’m okay. Took a bit to sneak into the hotel. This place isamazing. I was sure if security spotted me, they’d throw me out. Then I had to hack the elevator…”
“Fuckinghell,” he said again. He tipped her face up and then took her mouth with his.
She made a sound, then opened for him.
He poured all his worry into the kiss. She was alive. He stroked her tongue with his, absorbing her taste and loving her moan.
