Hot Protector(41)

“I thought you wouldn’t help me.”

He took an exit and they found themselves in bumper-to-bumper traffic. He turned to her, his brows two slashes on his handsome face.

“From the moment those assholes set my apartment on fire, I was on your side, Sophie.”

Shame crawled around in her belly. “I didn’t know that. I thought you’d dump me at the first opportunity. You were so angry…”

He shoved a hand through his hair. His eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep, but that didn’t make him any less sexy.

“I was angry. I am angry. But I wouldn’t leave you to face this alone. That’s not who I am.”

“I know that now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner that this Madame Renard gets the mail?”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “I don’t know. Everything has been so stressful and unpredictable—and I guess I thought you might find a way to leave me behind if you knew.”

“You just said she would only give the mail to you.”

“Yes, but given enough time, you’d have charmed her. Or you could have gotten Tyler to call her or something.”

“Fuck me, Sophie,” he said—and her core reacted in ways that sent a delicious tingle through her. What was it about the way he said those words? “I can’t follow your logic half the time.”

“I also thought you might want me to call and have her forward the mail.”

He shook his head. “Definitely not. The sooner we get the fucking thing, the better. She’s in danger too so long as this thing is out there.”

Sophie’s chest ached suddenly. “But they can’t know she’s getting his mail. It goes to her apartment, not his—and I didn’t require a signature.”

He shook his head. “They’ll figure it out. Maybe not right away, but when there’s no mail at all, they’re going to know it’s being redirected. And they’re going to find out who’s getting it, especially when the tracking number shows that the package was delivered.”

Guilt speared her. “We can’t let that happen. Madame Renard is a sweet old woman. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“I’m not going to let it happen, Sophie. But swear to fucking God, you had better not keep anything else from me. You got that?”

It hurt to have him growl at her, but she understood why. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not keeping anything else from you, I promise.”

“Good.”

Traffic suddenly started moving and he pressed the gas, whipping between a couple of slower cars and accelerating to the next snarl and then the next. It took over an hour to reach the street in the seventh arrondissement where their rental property was, partly because of traffic and partly because Chase didn’t go directly to the rental. He took side roads, backtracked, and circled before finally sliding into a space around the corner from their building. The building was old in a charming way—but the elevator was out of service so they had to walk up four flights to the garret on the top floor.

The property agent met them at the door. She was very French, elegant and refined, and so terribly excited they were on their honeymoon.

“We have champagne for you, monsieur and madame,” she said, leading them into the tiny kitchen with a window from which they could see the top of the Eiffel Tower. But that wasn’t the best part. The best was a small balcony off one of the bedrooms with a view of the tower.

“Merci,” Sophie said. “We are delighted, madame.”

The property agent spent another twenty minutes showing them every conceivable thing about the apartment before she suggested they make dinner reservations at a bistro down the street. Or, she mentioned, she could do it for them.

“Thank you,” Chase said, “but I’m not sure we’ll go anywhere tonight.” He put his arm around Sophie then and squeezed her to him. “It’s been a long night of travel, and I’m ready to be alone with my wife.”

The woman smiled knowingly. “But of course. I will bid you adieu now.”

And she disappeared with a wave and a smile, the door closing firmly behind her.

Chase blew out a breath as he let Sophie go and walked over to the bag of guns and ammunition. She knew he’d slipped the other gun into his waistband beneath his jacket.

“Do you really think you’re going to need those?”

He was busy stacking ammo boxes and laying out weapons. “Never know. Best to be prepared.”

She watched as he peeled off his jacket and his muscles bunched and rippled while he worked. It was mesmerizing in a way.

He paused in his stacking and looked up at her. “You should get some sleep.”