“Trust me, sweetheart. This is no different from not going on lockdown here. We need to act like all things are as usual.”
“Sara’s been on Neuville’s radar in the past,” Blake says. “He had her followed at one point, thinking she would lead him to Ella, and there was even a confrontation between Sara, Chris, and Neuville.”
“When?” Kayden asks.
“Four months ago,” Blake replies.
“Then we damn sure don’t want to give him a reason to look at her again,” Kayden says. “But if he’s looked into her in the past, he could be doing it now, and he might well try to grab her. But he could do that in the States, when everyone’s guard is down, too. At least here, you have your men and I’ve got a half dozen to help you.”
“Are you suggesting we keep them in Paris until you resolve this?” Blake asks.
“No,” Kayden says. “Get them on a plane Sunday morning. We’ll ensure Neuville is distracted then. If all goes well, I’ll contact you before you land and tell you this is over. But right now, you need to get back to Paris discreetly. I’ll get you on a private jet that won’t be traced. Don’t connect Sara to Ella, and being here now could do that. Protect your client.”
“I have men in Paris to protect Sara and Chris,” he says. “My client wants me to protect Ella.”
“I’m CIA, Blake,” I say. “I can handle myself.”
“Then I’m just a little extra backup,” he offers.
I reach toward him, yank open his jacket, and take his gun.
“Fuck,” he growls.
“I can protect myself,” I say.
“I let you do that,” he counters.
I offer him his gun. “You did not let me. Protect Sara.”
He takes his gun and holsters it. “My client—”
“I’ll pay you double what they’re paying,” Kayden states. “But you protect them—not Ella.”
“Chris Merit’s a billionaire, man,” he says. “You don’t want to pay me double.”
“Double,” Kayden repeats.
“I don’t want your money,” he says. “I know you operate on paydays, but I’m about what’s right.”
“What’s right,” I say, “is protecting them. Don’t let Sara get hurt because of me.”
He studies me for several beats. “All right. I’ll go take care of her. But I do not look forward to the moment I tell Chris Merit what’s going on. He’s intense about protecting Sara.”
“Good,” I say. “If he wasn’t, I’d be concerned.”
“She’s in good hands with Chris,” he says, narrowing his stare on me. “She was never going to give up on you. She loves you.”
“She probably won’t after she finds out that everything about me is a lie.”
“Your friendship is not a lie. I see that clearly. She will, too.” He looks at Kayden. “What about The Jackals? How worried do I need to be about them?”
“If they show up, I wouldn’t hold my gunfire,” he says.
Blake gives him a long, hard stare. “Holy fuck. I hired them.” He scrubs his jaw. “How do I get that ride to Paris?”
Kayden pulls his phone from his pocket and makes a couple of calls. Five minutes later we walk Blake to the garage, where Adriel waits by his Mercedes. Blake walks to the passenger door, but before he gets inside, he turns to me. “My father always told me, kill or be killed. Don’t get killed, Ella.” He disappears into the car, and Kayden and I watch them depart.
“What distraction is planned for Sunday?” I ask, facing Kayden.
“Saturday night, we’ll make sure Alessandro gets a lead on the necklace being in Paris,” he says. “He’ll get on a plane and go there. Sunday morning, we’ll make sure Neuville not only finds out Alessandro stole from him, but that he’s in Paris and he has the necklace. I’ll also be in Paris.”
“So Sunday is the day this all ends?”
“Yes. The minute I know Sara and Chris are gone, I’m ending this. Sunday is the day.”
“I want to go with you.”
“No. End of subject.”
“Kayden, damn it—”
His hands come down on my shoulders and he pulls me to him. “I’m ending this, Ella. And then we’re getting married.” And any objection I might voice is lost as he kisses me soundly.
fifteen
Hours after Blake’s departure, Kayden and I are both in sweatpants and tees, sitting on the bed with several MacBooks in front of us as we take on the tedious process of looking for a security breach. Regardless of the work underway, Kayden and I are together, in our room, in our private space, and it’s cozy, warm, and right. There are brushes of our hands and legs, kisses and laughter as we watch Marabella fret over the messes we’ve made. And neither of us says it, but there is a heaviness in the air, a fear that this weekend will not end well.
Finally, after several hours, all but done with our review with nothing to show for it, our laughter turns into his hand on my face and a shared, lingering kiss that does me in. I capture his hand. “Let me go with you. No one will have your back like I will. I’m trained. I’m lethal. Test me—”
“Ella,” he breathes out, a gravelly quality to his voice.