Page 37 of Fully Loaded

“He’ll do as much as he’s capable of. Take care of Dani, Brock. Serena won’t be able to handle it if something happens to her.”

“I’ll protect her with my life.” The muscles in his throat compressed on the words. Wasn’t that what he’d always done? He felt no bitterness when that realization hit him. Protecting Dani felt even more natural than protecting himself. “I’ll check in when it’s safe.”

He hung up and turned. Dani stood at the threshold, her hip against the door and the side of her head leaned against the wood frame. She wore his long-sleeved white shirt, which hung almost to her knees. She had the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and her tiny frame looked even smaller in the oversized shirt. Her thick locks were piled over one side of her shoulder. Her face was pale and free of makeup but her lips were a shade pinker than usual thanks to their lovemaking. Clarity sparked her eyes—something rare for Dani first thing in the morning. Part of him ached at the fact that he’d missed her sleepy, heavy-lidded wake-up that he’d witnessed on the train. It was ridiculous the little things that you could miss about a person when they’re out of your life. The light from the stand-up lamp near the door brought the purple hue around her throat to life, making fresh anger boil beneath his skin.

If he’d arrived at Leland’s ten seconds later, if he hadn’t decided to hop on that plane against his better judgment, they wouldn’t be here right now. She’d have died alone and terrified and he wouldn’t have even fucking known.

“Everything okay?” she asked. The words rolled out on a purr, and he gravitated to her body like a magnet.

“No,” he said wryly, tucking the corner of his mouth into his cheek. He circled his hands around her hips and towed her to his chest. A sharp hiccup of surprise gasped from her lips and her eyes widened.

She moved her gaze over his face and a fist tightened in his chest.

“I’ve got the name of the cult Sven was involved with.”

Dani typed the Peace Makers into the search engine of Brock’s phone while she waited for him to get ready. She’d showered and dressed after a grumbling Brock allowed her to change the dressing on his shoulder. She’d slept better than she had in years and felt more like herself than she had in days. Even without a drop of caffeine her brain was working at breakneck speed despite the early hour. She clicked on the Images tab and picture after picture of the symbol came up. No doubt the symbol on Sven’s neck linked him with the group. Going back to the search engine, she scanned the web searches. Several articles popped up.

Random pipeline bombings in Iran and Saudi Arabia appear to be tied to extremist group the Peace Makers. Authorities suspect the cult has over two hundred members across Europe working in clusters. Detective Luis Benoit of Paris’s terrorism unit warns the public that a telltale tattoo could symbolize cult relation.

“Ready to go?” Brock stood at the bathroom door. Steam billowed into the hall at his back. The long stubble that she’d grown to like over the last couple of days was gone. The short beard, now trim and neat, brought out his golden skin and the bright green streaks in his eyes.

She stood from the bed and adjusted her pale pink pullover. “You clean up nice,” she said, as she fit her feet into her shoes.

His eyes danced over her face. “Not as well as you.” He grasped the doorknob and opened the door. “We’ll grab you a new hat today. Better to keep changing our look.”

He peeked around the corner before motioning her to follow. He shut the door firmly and she fell into sync beside him.

“I found this,” she said, as they stepped into the elevator. “It’s not much but it gives us an idea about the group.” She passed him the phone, whose screen displayed the article she’d been reading about the Peace Makers.

“Hmm. Interesting. I wish we could find an individual’s name—that would be our best shot.” Brock pocketed his phone and her face twisted with doubt.

“I’ll look more later. Hopefully Sven’s place will give us a lead.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Four people stood waiting to get on the elevator in the lobby and parted a path as she and Brock exited. Her arm bumped against a black peacoat.

Dani’s skin bristled. Her heart raced and a warning siren screeched in her head. She turned just as the elevator door closed. The blonde woman’s hard brown eyes stared at her.

She linked her arm with Brock’s and he closed his hand over her wrist. Her lungs squeezed, and she moved swiftly across the burgundy-and-gold carpet.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s here.” Dani clutched his arm tight against her side. “The woman from the train. She just brushed past me.”

Brock shoved open the hotel’s glass door. Picking up his pace, he whisked her to the curb then lifted an arm in the air and pulled her back against his side. The deep frown line in his forehead and the crush of his arm against her shoulder made panic skid down her spine. A taxi separated from the slew of traffic moving down the road like thick blood through a clogged artery. He yanked open the door and she slid across the leather seat so he could sit next to her. The fact that he hadn’t wasted a second to question her but had gotten her to safety first revealed just how uneasy he was.

Dani leaned toward the driver and recited Sven’s address in the best French she could speak. The driver said something to confirm and pulled away from the curb.

“Are you sure it was her?” He swiveled in his seat to look out the back window.

“Yes. Positive.” She moistened her lips with her tongue. “I think. Yes, it had to have been.” The sliver of doubt pried at her memory, picking it apart. She shook her head. No, it was her. “She stared me in the eye. I mean, I saw her face for only half a second, but it looked just like her.”

Some of the angst left Brock’s body. He reached across her, grabbed the seatbelt, and buckled it at her hip. After fastening his in place, he caught her hand. “I’m sure you know what you saw, but I hope to hell you’re wrong.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s weird, though. She followed us at the train station and could have reported us while we were en route, yet she didn’t. And if she’s here again without cops . . . it doesn’t add up.”

“I know.” She massaged the tender skin next to her ear. “You must think I’m crazy.” She blew a breath through tight lips. “I might be.”

“You’re not crazy. Maybe she has a doppelgänger who was pissed you didn’t move out of her way fast enough.” He squeezed her leg. “Look, I trust whatever your gut says.”

“My gut instinct is entirely unreliable right now.” She dropped her head back to the seat and stared out of the window. Had she imagined the woman? Brock was right. She wouldn’t follow them aimlessly without reporting them. If it was the same woman from the train station, she would’ve sent the cops to the hotel, not been there searching for them. Unless of course she was after the formula. Worry oscillated against her ribcage. But if that were the case, the woman would have been sneakier and approached them without pause.