“Isn't it?” I ask, raising my brows and hating the small surge of disappointment I feel when Gill drops his hand away from my face. “Sex in a parking lot, being tailed by some rival criminals, and a romantic Italian dinner.”
“I'll let you in on a secret,” he whispers, leaning across the car and whispering in my ear, “we won't be making it to dinner.” Gill's hot breath makes my entire body light up. And the innuendo present in that statement? Damn it. I wanted after-sex to be awkward with him, horrible, guilt ridden. But it's just not. It's so … right. Fuck. “Get your stuff and take this,” he hands me a large black leather purse—a Saint Laurent, I think—that he grabs from the backseat. “Wait until I come over and open your door. Stick close to me and hold onto my arm—do not under any circumstances let go of me or let yourself be separated by the crowd. I don't care if you have to strong-arm a toddler out of the way.”
Gill pulls away without waiting for me to acknowledge his words, climbing out and walking unhurriedly over to my side of the SUV. I take that moment to stuff my clutch inside the larger bag, right on top of some folded clothes. Hmm. When he opens the door, I take his hand and let him help me out.
I almost feel sorry for whoever's following us—the parking down here is just horrible. We got the last handicapped spot in a sea of tourists and there's absolutely no where to idle, to stop and watch. Obviously, Gill knows how to pick his battles well.
He guides me through the crowd, moving carefully but not quickly, picking his path with a precision that I don't even begin to try to understand. This, this is Gill's world and I'm just a guest in it. After this is all over, he'll keep doing what he does and Cliff, Solène, and I will move on with our lives. If he'll decide to have a relationship with his daughter is anybody's guess.
“You still know how to shoot, right?” he asks me, and I nod. Way back when, before we moved to France, Cliff used to take Gill and me to the outdoor shooting range to blow off some of that infamous teenage angst. It's been a while since I've handled a gun, but I never forgot. “Good.” That's all he says, not bothering to elaborate. Great. If this day comes to a close and I end up with blood on my hands … No. I won't think about that, not right now. I have to trust that Gilleon will do whatever he has to to keep that from happening. On the other hand, if someone's threatening my life—or the lives of anyone in my family—I won't hesitate to pull that trigger.
People swirl around us in a mess of color and laughter, smiles flashing and eyes blinking past. I don't see anyone that looks suspicious, but then, that's the point, isn't it? Smells overwhelm me, making my mouth water and my belly clench tight. Damn it. Tonight was supposed to be about dinner and conversation, not running from bad guys. Or sex. It definitely wasn't supposed to be about sex.
“Tell me this is all for a good reason, Gill,” I say suddenly, the words falling past my lips before I can stop them. I realize this isn't the time or place for a proper conversation, but I just want to hear him say …
“It is.” He pauses—only in speech, we keep walking—and then takes a deep breath. “A selfish reason, maybe, but a good one.” Gill glances over at me, his eyes sharp and cutting, splitting me open with a single look. Shit. I don't like to make a habit of it, but I glance away first. “This way,” Gill whispers suddenly, turning us around on a dime and blending back into the crowd that's flowing the opposite direction.
Within a few minutes, we're back where we started, rain pouring from the sky in sheets, the sudden downpour corralling everyone inside and away from the street. Gill keeps us dry, but walks us along the edge of the open air market like he's looking for someone or something. I half expected to see the SUV surrounded by a bunch of guys in leather jackets and sunglasses, but that's not the case. It sits there, glistening in the rain, completely and utterly unmolested as far as I can tell.
I pull my gaze away, knowing there's no way Gill would take us back to that particular vehicle, and wonder what he plans on doing. At least, I hope there's a plan in all this. I consider asking, but then again, this is Gilleon Marchal we're talking about—of course there's a contingency plan in place.
We walk for a little while down Pike Place and then circle back towards the Skybridge and the parking garage. Before taking me down that way however, Gill pauses near the restrooms and waits for a break in the crowd before dragging us both into the ladies' room.
Unfortunately, break in the crowd doesn't necessarily mean nobody is in the bathroom.
I smile an apology at the gray haired woman glaring daggers at us from the sinks.