Hot Protector(69)
Chase had mentioned a tracking device on the flash drive. This guy could be one of Grigori’s men and just toying with her. For the first time, she wished Chase had given her a gun.
“I know your name because Mendez told me. I knew where to find you because he told me that too.”
Mendez. She’d heard Chase mention that name, and not in a bad way. “Who else do you know?”
“Hawk is the one who set this trip up for you. Jack ‘Hawk’ Hunter. He’s married to Gina Domenico—beautiful woman and beautiful children.”
Gina Domenico? Hawk’s wife was the pop star? Holy shit. Maybe, just maybe, this guy was on her side after all. He knew things she didn’t think anyone working for Grigori would know. Her hands relaxed on the wheel a little bit.
“So you know Hawk and Mendez. But why are you here now? Where were you before those men found us?”
“Sorry, had a job in the south of France. I got here as quickly as I could.”
“I want to call Hawk.” Because Chase had told her to. Because until she did, how would she know she could really trust this man?
“Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
She fumbled the phone from her pocket and tried to dial. It was impossible while driving. Finally, she eased the car over to the side of the road and managed to find the right button to connect her to Hawk.
He answered on the first ring. “Fiddler, what’s up?”
“It’s not Ch-Chase,” she said, glancing over at Ian.
“Sophie—what’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I’m with someone named Ian. He says you know him. The Russians found us… Chase… I don’t know how he is. He was fine when I left him—”
Her throat was tight. Her pulse tripped and sweat broke out on her skin. If something happened to Chase…
Oh God, she couldn’t think it.
“Fucking hell.” Hawk sounded concerned and a little pissed, but he didn’t sound like he thought she was about to be murdered. “Can you give the phone to Ian?”
She held the phone out without a word. Ian took it and put it to his ear.
“Your boy’s got backup,” he said. “One of my guys is there to help mop up the Russians.” He put an elbow against the window and shoved a hand into his hair. “Yeah, I know you aren’t happy. Take it up with Mendez. It’s not my fault you bitches don’t talk. … You know, this isn’t where I wanted to fucking be, Hunter. I’ve got a business to run, and this kind of shit takes valuable time. … Yeah, love you too, baby. Here’s Sophie.”
He shoved the phone at her and she pressed it to her ear. “Hawk?”
“Do what Ian tells you, Sophie. He’s on our side. And don’t worry about Chase. He knows what he’s doing.”
CHASE COULDN’T WATCH as Sophie went out the door and headed for the car. He hoped like hell she made it. It was a calculated risk, and one that it killed him to take. But he had to. The men coming down the stairs were moving fast. They’d be in the lobby soon—and he didn’t want Sophie anywhere near him when they arrived.
He had to let her drive off on her own. If he tried to go with her, any Russians watching outside would realize who they were. He couldn’t take that chance. If he had her circle around and pick him up, she’d still be in the vicinity and they’d have an opportunity to intercept her.
No, he wanted her gone. On her way to the airport while he created a diversion and bought her some time.
He took out the Sig and retreated into the shadows of the stairwell. Waiting. Above him, the footsteps grew louder. A door in the building opened and someone yelled in French, no doubt angry at the late-night disruption. He was surprised there weren’t more doors opening.
Though there probably would be quite soon. In fact, they’d be dialing the gendarme before this was over.
Chase cleared his mind, focused on the noise of the men approaching. Three guys, no more. The feet pounded together, but he’d had enough experience to separate out the sounds. They echoed in the stairwell, along with the angry French.
He could wait, take out the first man, but the next two would know he was there. They would turn, fire.
He had to do it. Had to protect Sophie. He’d heard nothing outside, no sounds of struggle or surprise.
The door to the outside opened, and he wedged himself farther into the shadows. A man entered, and Chase swore silently. The last thing he needed was a resident getting into the middle of a firefight.
But then the first Russian hit the top of the landing, and the man who’d just walked in raised a pistol and fired. The Russian dropped.
Chase didn’t have time to be surprised. He bolted into action as the other two Russians opened fire over the side of the stairwell. He darted out, fired up, darted back.