AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"He's worried about you. We all are," Thierry said noncommittally.
"Pascal isn't stupid enough to come after me." I believed that because it had been several days since Vincent had warned me, and there had been no overtures from Pascal's end.
Duncan didn't agree—and wanted me to have a security detail. Me? A security detail?Merdé! No fucking way would I allow that to happen. I was a normal person, and I didn't need security or any of that other nonsense in my life. I'd lived for twenty-four years as Jean-Luc Moreau's daughter, and no one had hurt a hair on my head; I wasn't going to cower and hide now.
I told Thierry I'd call him when I was ready to leave.
Vincent wasn't home, and I had a fun visit with his father. We played a game of chess, and when I could see he was tiring, I told him I had to get back. His nurse took him to bed, and I texted Thierry that I was ready. He said I should just wait fifteen minutes, and he'd come to me.
In the movies, this is where the audience probably screams at the stupid heroine who decides to go out without protection. But this wasn't a movie, and I wasn't an actor. I texted Thierry that I'd walk back to myboulangerie. It was, after all, just a few minutes away.
The evening air was crisp as I walked down the quiet street, heading back to the Délices d'Elsa. The sun had just set, casting long shadows and an eerie stillness over the neighborhood. I clutched my coat tighter around me, suddenly feeling a strange sense of unease. I wished then that Ihadwaited for Thierry, but I shrugged it away and walked faster, holding the now empty basket of pastries tightly, ready to use it like a weapon if I had to.
As I turned the corner, I smiled when I saw the back of the boulangerie where I took deliveries. There was nothing to worry about. I was home.
Too late, I noticed the van parked a little ways away from the back entrance. My instincts screamed that something was wrong, and my heart started to race. I quickened my pace, but before I could reach the door, a group of men jumped out of the van, their faces hidden behind masks.
One of them grabbed my arm in a vice-like grip. Like hell, I thought, even as fear surged through me.
"Let me go!" I shouted, panic rising in my chest. I clawed, kicked, and scratched. And I screamed,loudly. Duncan would hear me. He was inside the boulangerie. Wasn't he?
"Shut her up and get her in the van!" Another masked man cried out in French. It was Pascal Fournier's voice. The realization that Pascal was here sent a jolt of terror through me.
"Duncan," I screamed. Someone put a hand on my mouth. I started to struggle. No way was I going into that van. I began to fight in earnest.
I hoped that if I kept making as much noise as I could, someone would come by.
Suddenly, everything stilled, and I heard the distinct cock of a gun.
"Lâche-la maintenant." Let her go now a familiar voice said. I turned to see Dom holding a gun.
Pascal and his men turned, momentarily distracted. Dom stepped into the dim light, his gun aimed directly at them. "I said, let her go!"
Pascal sneered, pulling his own gun. He was going to fire, I could see it in his eyes. "Fuck off," Pascal cried.
"I don't think so," Dom shot back. The man holding my arm loosened his grip, and I ran, wanting to get inside the boulangerie.
Then everything went crazy for a moment. Dom grabbed me, pushing me behind him.
"You don't want to play this game," Pascal threatened his gun on Dom.
"Elsa, get down," Dom screamed. I dropped to the ground just as gunfire erupted around me. The sound was deafening, and I covered my head, praying for it to stop. I could hear the shouts and chaos, the terrifying clash of bullets flying in all directions.
Dom pulled me behind a dumpster, where we could take cover. He started to return fire with precise shots. But even I, who had only seen such things in movies, could see that Dom was outnumbered.
Where the hell was Duncan? Where was Thierry? I started to panic. My baby was going to get hurt. I was so scared.
One of Pascal's men went down, then another. Pascal was screaming, and I heard the sound of sirens. The police were coming. Thank god.
The remaining men scrambled back to the van, dragging their wounded with them. Pascal shot one last hateful look at Dom before jumping into the driver's seat, speeding away.
I leaned against the trash can, breathing in relief. I'd first hoped for Duncan or Thierry to come and help; and then I'd been scared when the shooting began that Duncan or Thierry would get hurt.
It took me a moment to notice that Dom was hit. He was sitting against the big trash container, and his dark shirt was getting darker. I crawled over to Dom, my hands shaking. "Oh my God, you're hurt."
I could see blood seeping through his fingers where he clutched his side. "Fuck me," he gasped, though his face was pale.
"Are you alright?"
