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“It’s a precaution, Angel. That’s all.” He runs a thumb over my cheek, and I’m swamped with familiar feelings—feelings that obscure all cogent thought. “Cover that gorgeous ass, but first lock the door behind me.”
I don’t lock the door. I crack it so I can listen, then place the gun on the vanity and dress.
“You don’t have much time to get her off the property. Ten minutes, tops.”
I don’t recognize the voice, but that doesn’t mean anything. Aside from the people who guard us, I don’t know most of my father’s men.
“Go down in the service elevator,” he continues, “and get into the food service truck on the ramp. Don’t dawdle.”
“If this is a trap,” Rafael grunts, “I will come back from the dead long enough to drag you into the bowels of hell.”
“I follow orders,” the man replies. “Godspeed.”
Rafael appears, with his gun drawn. “We need to go.” He slips his phone in his pocket and hands me the gun from the vanity top. “Keep this. Next time I tell you to lock the door, you need to listen.”
He takes my hand and sticks his head out into the hall before leading us toward an elevator that Tamar is holding.
“Ms. Clarke’s father arranged for our plane to be moved to a VIP section of the airport reserved for the French president and foreign heads of state,” Tamar tells Rafael as we descend. “Once we get there, we’ll be fine. At this time of night, it’s a quick trip.”
My father’s helping him. It’s true. I squeeze his fingers. I still don’t understand what’s happening, but I’m safer now than I was before Rafael showed up.
“Do you know anything about the food truck waiting downstairs?” Rafael asks.
“It’s ours,” Tamar replies. “And our soldiers are covering the ramp.”
I feel him relax beside me, even as I clutch the gun in a shaky hand.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you, Angel,” he murmurs.
I’m not sure if he says it for my benefit or his. But I believe him.
When the elevator stops and the doors open, Rafael holds me against him, using his body to shield mine. Guards surround us, and the adrenaline surges, propelling me down the ramp at warp speed and into the truck.
“Go! Go! Go!” he shouts to the driver even before the door slams shut.
10
RAFAEL
My pulse doesn’t return to normal until we’re airborne.
The sun isn’t even up, and it’s already been a hell of a day. But I’m not complaining. Lexie’s shaken, but safe, and the fucker my men found sneaking out of the original hotel is shackled in the cargo hold, hopefully freezing his balls off.
My knife and I are jonesing to chat with him. I want to know exactly what he had planned for her, and who ordered it. But I won’t have that bastard in the cabin with Lexie here.
I glance at her seated in the center of the cabin, staring out the window. We need to talk, and it’s not going to be pretty. She’s probably exhausted. I know I am, and I should wait, but I need answers.
As I make my way to her, my conscience pricks. Her face is ashen, and she looks worn around the edges. Beautiful still, but frayed. And fragile. Not so different from how she looked at Sirena the night we disrupted the ring. Maybe the answers can wait.
“Hey,” I say, taking the seat beside her. “You okay?”
She nods. “Francesca was murdered?”
Most young women in her position would be concerned with their own safety above all else. Not Lexie. “Yeah. Along with a seasoned guard, near home.”
She squeezes her eyes tight, but a few tears escape, and I feel them in the pit of my stomach. If this had been a week ago, I would have leaned over and dried her tears with my shirt, or caught them on my lips while I comforted her. Even now I want to soothe her pain. But the waters are murky between us, and I hold myself back from touching her.
“You said you would explain everything,” she murmurs, dabbing at her eyes.
