Hot Protector(39)

“I think he’s here because Androv figured out he needed to send someone to Paris. No sense calling him back to New York first.”

“Do you think he’s figured out the address?”

“Yeah. Even if he didn’t get it from the credit card information, he’ll have figured it out by investigating your background. You have a connection to Paris, and he’ll explore that first.”

“If he has the tracking number, he’ll know when the package is delivered.”

“True. Nothing we can do about it but get there first.”

“I should have kept the flash drive. We could be analyzing it now.”

“You did the best you knew how to do. And if he’d caught you, you’d be dead and he’d have his information back. So, no, you shouldn’t have kept it.”

Chase took his personal cell phone that he’d replaced earlier from his pocket and sent a text to Hawk. “Stay here,” he told Sophie as he got up and sauntered over to the other side of the lounge. He picked up a bottle of water from a vendor, paid, and then turned and snapped a pic of the area with his phone. He snapped a couple of more pics as if he were a tourist taking photos of the airport and then sauntered back to Sophie’s side where he sent the photo of the man to Hawk.

She’d taken a magazine from the bag and was currently flipping through it. He saw clothes, purses, and makeup, and zoned out. Whatever.

“You okay?” he asked.

She glanced up at him. “Mostly. I just wish we were on our way already.”

“Me too.”

Because he didn’t like waiting for the go order. He liked it when they were busting balls to get to the drop zone, when everything was critical and actions mattered. He liked the rush of exploding onto a scene with his team and taking care of business.

The only team he had on this one was Sophie, however, and the mission was not to explode onto the scene so much as to tiptoe in and out again like thieves in the night.

For Sophie’s sake, he hoped that’s exactly how it went down. In, out, and back to DC with the kind of valuable information that meant they could put Grigori Androv behind bars for a long time. Only then would Sophie be safe.





18


They arrived in Paris early in the morning. Sophie was bleary-eyed as they got off the plane. They’d been in economy class and Grigori’s man had been in first. He’d walked right past her when he’d presumably been stretching his legs. His gaze had slipped over to her, but the recognition she’d feared she might see wasn’t there. She’d kept her expression carefully blank, and he’d walked down the aisle and then up the other side while her heart hammered the whole time.

But what could he do on a plane? Not much, though she feared that someone would be waiting for her and Chase as they exited the airport. Even if they were, Chase had that covered, it seemed. He took her hand and tugged her through the terminal. They did not go to baggage claim, instead exiting in a different area and heading for the parking lot.

Of course Hawk had a car for them, an Audi turbo that was sleek and dark and promised to be fast. Chase slung their bags in the backseat and retrieved another bag from the trunk. Sophie tried not to gasp when he opened it to reveal an arsenal of guns, but she couldn’t quite stop herself.

Chase looked up at her as he grabbed a pistol, checked it, and tucked it into the side pocket of the door. He zipped the bag and tossed it in the back with the rest of their stuff.

“I didn’t think guns were easy to get here.”

“They are when you know where to go. Hawk has connections.”

Sophie belted herself in and tried not to let everything feel so surreal. She was in France with her smoking-hot stepbrother, and danger was on her heels. It was so far removed from her life thus far that she sometimes thought she must be dreaming.

But then Chase growled at her or kissed her or just took her hand and held it like they really were Nathan and Beth Chandler, honeymooners, and every cell in her body went on red alert.

No, she definitely wasn’t dreaming.

He started the car and zipped through the parking lot. Soon they were on their way, speeding out of Paris’s Charles de Gaulle Airport and toward the city. Sophie turned to look behind them, but the traffic was so heavy she’d never know if anyone was following or not.

“His name is Sergei Turov,” Chase said matter-of-factly, and Sophie’s head swung around. She knew he’d sent a picture to Hawk—and apparently he’d gotten an answer. “Not a nice guy, but then none of Androv’s associates are known to be nice. Turov’s specialty seems to be human trafficking.”

Sophie’s heart froze. “Human trafficking?”