Page 13

CHAPTER TWELVE

T he rain had finally stopped, leaving the highway slick and reflective under the headlights. Noah’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he navigated the winding back roads, his eyes constantly checking the rearview mirror. Beside him Jennifer sat, her posture rigid, eyes scanning the darkness that enveloped them.

“How much farther?” she asked, her French accent more pronounced with fatigue.

“Another twenty minutes or so. I want to make sure we’re far enough away from the airport to lose them.” Noah’s voice was steady, betraying none of the fire that burned in his side. Pain scored every breath, the bullet wound pulsing with each heartbeat, warm blood slowly seeping into the makeshift compress he’d applied at the airport from the bunched up, ragged bottom of his T-shirt. He’d managed to hide it during their frantic escape, but the pain was becoming harder to ignore.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the motel they’d arranged to meet at appeared like a mirage—a single-story L-shaped building with a flickering neon sign that read “Valley View Inn.” Only a handful of cars were parked in the lot, one of which Noah recognized as his brother Caleb’s faded blue pickup.

Noah pulled into a space at the far end, killing the engine. “Wait here,” he instructed, gritting out the words between clamped teeth, his jaw clenched against the burning pain. He scanned the area before stepping out. The cool night air hit him like a physical slap, the scent of wet asphalt and black dirt assailed his nose, and he had to grip the door to steady himself. Pain radiated from his side and back, but he forced himself to stand straight as he signaled to a shadow by the vending machines.

The shadow moved, revealing itself as his youngest brother, Caleb.

“All clear?” Noah asked.

Caleb nodded. “Mom and Dad are in room12. Jonah and Marcel are in 14. We’ve got 15 for you and Jennifer.”

Noah returned to the car and helped Jennifer gather their meager belongings. She studied his face in the dim light.

“You’re pale,” she observed.

“Just tired.” The lie came easily, though guilt followed immediately after. Pretty sure the hit was a through-and-through, but it still hurt like he’d been stabbed, and he knew if he didn’t get it treated soon, there was a good chance of infection.

Room 15 turned out to be a musty space with faded wallpaper and two queen beds. The lamp on the nightstand cast a yellow glow over worn carpeting. Cheap paneling covered the entire wall behind the beds, providing a sort of makeshift headboard. A battle-scarred wooden dresser sat opposite the beds, and a small tray with paper-encased glasses and packages of toothpicks sat forlornly in the center. Attached to the wall high up was a television, so old they’d be lucky if it got reception at all, tilted at a wonky angle, where it could be viewed from either bed. Lucky them, he thought.

“I’ll be next door if you need anything,” Caleb said before disappearing.

As soon as the door closed, Noah felt his resolve crumble. He leaned heavily against the wall, his breath coming in short gasps.

Jennifer was by his side in an instant. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He tried to straighten, hissing in pain. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Her eyes narrowed as she reached for his jacket, her hand coming away red. “Noah, you’re bleeding!”

“It’s just a graze.”

“Take off your shirt, then sit down before you fall down,” she commanded, already moving to the bathroom to retrieve towels.

Noah hesitated, then slowly peeled off his jacket and shirt, wincing as the fabric stuck to dried blood. Jennifer returned with towels and the first aid kit Caleb had left on the bathroom counter. She wondered how he’d know they’d need it. When she returned, the kit in her hand, eyes narrowed, he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she was upset. Her sharp intake of breath told him the wound looked as bad as it felt.

“ Mon Dieu , Noah! This is not a graze. You’ve been shot!” Jennifer’s eyes flashed with anger as she assessed the damage. “When did this happen?”

“At the airport. During the shootout.”

“And you drove for two hours without saying anything? You should have let me drive.” She huffed out a breath, the bangs on her forehead moving with the soft exhalation, as she mumbled under her breath in French, low enough he couldn’t understand her—which was probably a good thing—because he had the feeling she wasn’t being very complimentary about him and his lack of brain cells. She pressed a towel against his side, making him flinch. “Turn around.”

He obeyed, revealing the exit wound on his back.

“You are impossible,” she muttered, but her touch was gentle as she cleaned the wound. “This needs stitches.”

“No hospitals,” Noah said wearily. “Unless you can stitch it up, bandaging it will have to do. Amir’s men will be watching all the local hospitals and clinics. Besides, hospitals are required by law to report any bullet wounds. We can’t afford the attention.”

Jennifer’s lips pressed into a thin line. “At least it went through clean. I can bandage it, but if it gets infected…” She left the implication hanging.

Noah watched her work, her movements efficient despite her obvious anger. In the heat of the moment, with all the shooting and chaos at the airport, with the adrenaline flowing, he hadn’t hurt. She had every right to be furious—he’d put her at risk by not telling her he was injured.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“For getting shot or for not telling me?” Her words were clipped, but concern shadowed her eyes.

“Both.”

She didn’t respond, focusing instead on securing the bandage around his torso. Her fingers were cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the wound.

When she finished, she stepped back, arms crossed. “You should lie down. I’ll check on your family.”

“Jennifer—”

“Rest now. We will talk later.” Without another word, she slipped from the room.

After she left, Noah eased himself onto the bed and retrieved his phone. Gator answered on the first ring.

“You made it out,” Gator answered without a greeting. Though he didn’t say anything, Noah could tell from Gator’s tone that he was glad things had gone well and that he was safe.

“Barely.” Noah recounted the events at the airport, the ambush at the cabin, and their escaping into the turmoil of the thunderstorm, using the elements and the forest for cover, and finally the events at the small private airport. “They knew exactly where to find us. I don’t know how. Though it took them a while, they captured Jennifer. I managed to stay one step ahead, and they finally gave up looking for me. They had their prize anyway. It’s strange though, Gator, they could have taken her out at any time. It would have solved the Amirs’ problems; she would be dead and unable to testify. Instead, they took her to the private airport outside town, ready to put her on a private plane.”

“Karim’s got resources,” Gator replied. “And enemies with deep pockets pay well for good intelligence, which is probably how they found you. We knew it was only a matter of time, once they figured out you were in Tennessee. Facial recognition software would have given them your name. It’s not a far stretch to figure out where your family lives, and from there, find you.”

Noah sighed, knowing his uncle was right. He’d just hoped they’d have a little more time. “What’s happening in New Orleans?”

“The Amir compound is buzzing like a kicked over beehive. Lawyers, diplomats, family members flying in from the U.A.E. They’re preparing for a legal battle.”

Noah closed his eyes, processing the information. “And Abdullah?”

“That’s the interesting part. No sign of him. Not a single appearance or statement supporting his mother and brother. My source says he’s completely absent from all the legal preparations.”

“Not surprising after what they did to him.”

“Exactly. The evidence we found confirming he was drugged and held against his will during Chloe’s kidnapping is solid. I personally spoke with the man who rescued him. He’s making sure that Abdullah is well protected against anybody else in his loving family acting against him. He was never part of their plan to kidnap Chloe.”

Noah shifted, grimacing as pain shot through his side. “What’s the timeline look like?”

“Trial starts in five days. Jennifer needs to be here to testify. Until then, keep moving.”

Noah hesitated, the weight of unspoken thoughts heavy on his tongue. “I don’t know what happens after the trial.” Gator’s silence encouraged him to continue. “Jennifer deserves better than this. Better than me.” The admission felt like another wound opening. “What do I have to offer her? A dishonorably discharged soldier with a target on his back? A man who couldn’t even save his own team?”

“You know that wasn’t your fault. Donovan is going to get what’s coming to him, mark my words well, nephew. He betrayed you, betrayed his entire unit. He was your commanding officer; under normal circumstances it wasn’t your place to question his actions. You followed orders, did your job. The faulty intel was to blame, not you. You are not responsible for those men’s deaths. That falls squarely on Donovan’s shoulders. He’ll get what’s coming to him. And you found out he was in cahoots with the enemy, even if you couldn’t prove it. Donovan is dirty but remember this…Karma has a way of making everything right.”

“And is karma’s real name Gator Boudreau?”

Gator chuckled. “We all have baggage, Noah. It’s how we deal with it that defines us. You can drag it around alone, letting it weigh you down until you stumble and fall. Or you can share the load.”

Noah stared at the ceiling, letting the words sink in.

“There’s something else you should probably know,” Gator continued. “I’m following a lead on why the Amirs want Jennifer alive. Why they’re trying to capture, not kill.”

“What lead?”

“Not over the phone. I need more proof first. But if I’m right…” Gator paused. “Just keep her close.”

“I will,” Noah promised. “With my life if necessary. Two of my brothers are coming with us. The rest of the family will scatter until after the trial. I don’t want them at the homestead until this whole situation with the Amirs is handled.”

“That’s good. Tell your mom to call if they need anything.”

“I will. See you in five days.”

After ending the call, Noah lay back, exhaustion washing over him. The door opened softly as Jennifer returned, her expression unreadable in the dim light.

“Your mother asked if you are really okay,” she said, settling into the chair beside the bed. “I told her you were being stubborn but would survive.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks.”

Jennifer studied him, her anger seemingly replaced by something more complex. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

“I couldn’t risk slowing us down.”

“That’s not a good enough reason.”

Noah met her gaze. “I’m used to handling pain alone.”

“And that is your problem.” She rose from the chair and carefully crawled up onto the bed to sit beside him, her back against the wall. “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

The echo of Gator’s words wasn’t lost on him. Noah reached for her hand, half-expecting her to pull away. She didn’t. “I’m not good at letting people help.”

“I noticed.” Her voice softened. “But I am here now, and I am helping, whether you like it or not.”

In the stillness that followed, something shifted between them—something fragile yet powerful, like the first tendril of a plant breaking through soil.

Outside, the lateness of the night wrapped around the motel like a protective cloak. For now, they were safe. For now, they had this moment of respite before the storm that awaited them in New Orleans.

Jennifer’s fingers tentatively traced the edge of his bandage. “You should try and get some sleep.”

As his eyes grew heavy, Noah wondered if, after everything, there might be a future worth fighting for—one where the weight he carried might somehow be lighter because she was there to share it.

Easing gently from the bed, Jennifer paced the worn carpet of the motel room, her bare feet silent against the threadbare fibers. Her nerves remained frayed, raw from the confrontation at the airport. Several hours had passed since they’d escaped, but adrenaline still coursed through her veins, making sleep impossible despite her exhaustion.

She paused at the dingy window, carefully peeling back the edge of the curtain just enough to peek outside. The neon sign from the motel cast an intermittent red glow across the nearly empty parking lot. Cracks and pockmarks scarred the asphalt, broken chunks and jagged fissures shiny from the earlier rain. Their car sat hidden in the shadows, unremarkable and anonymous—precisely what they needed right now.

Skinner’s face flashed in her mind. The way he’d gripped her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh as he’d tried to force her toward the private plane. The mercenaries had flanked them, their eyes constantly scanning, hands never far from their weapons. She shuddered at the remembered violence. They hadn’t been worried about causing an incident or shooting her, she’d read that in their faces when she’d tried to escape. If Noah hadn’t created that diversion…

She turned to look at him now, sprawled across the queen-sized bed. His breathing was deep and even, but occasionally his brow would furrow, as if whatever he dreamed wasn’t peaceful. Not surprising, since he hadn’t had much peace since he’d met her. It seemed like they’d raced from one place to another, from one safe house to the next, without having time to do more than take a breath.

The makeshift bandage on his side was holding, though a faint bloom of red had appeared at its center. Jennifer approached the bed, carefully sitting on its edge to avoid disturbing him. In sleep, the hard lines of Noah’s face softened, making him look younger. The small scar through his eyebrow caught in the dim light, a reminder of some previous danger he’d never elaborated on.

Why don’t they just kill me?

The question had been circling in her mind for hours now. It would be the simplest solution for the Amirs. With her dead, the prosecution’s case collapsed. The Amirs’ attorneys had already had most of the evidence excluded, the conversations she’d overheard while working with Tarik, as well as Sayifa and Rashid manipulating her to help them kidnap an innocent child—all of it meaningless without her testimony.

Yet it seems like now they’d rather kidnap me than kill me.

Yet they seemed determined to take her back to Dubai alive. To make her disappear quietly, without the messy international attention a murdered witness would bring. Perhaps they had other plans for her first—something they needed, or some twisted form of punishment for her perceived betrayal.

A soft groan escaped Noah as he shifted position, wincing even in sleep as the movement disturbed his bullet wound. Jennifer reached out instinctively, her fingers hovering just above his forehead before gently brushing back a strand of dark hair.

Five days.

That’s all the time she had until she had to be back in New Orleans at the courthouse. Five days until Noah’s job was finished and he left her behind, to go back to his life—a life without her.

Jennifer’s chest tightened as she studied his face. How had this happened? When had this man—this stoic, professional, occasionally infuriating man—become someone she couldn’t imagine her life without?

She’d built walls around herself for years. She’d crafted an identity in Paris. Successful, sophisticated, and deliberately superficial. Expensive clothes, exclusive restaurants, and casual relationships that never penetrated beyond the glossy surface she presented to the world. It had been safer that way. Easier. In her perfect little world, she couldn’t be hurt.

Noah had seen through it all immediately. “You’re wearing your wealth like armor,” he’d told her that first night, as she’d complained about leaving her designer wardrobe behind. The observation had stung because it was true.

In the days that followed, as they’d been forced to move between safe houses, dodging the Amirs’ increasingly bold attempts to capture her, those walls had crumbled. Noah had witnessed her at her most vulnerable—terrified, exhausted, stripped of all pretense—and hadn’t flinched. Instead, he’d shown her a steadiness she’d never experienced before, a quiet strength that asked nothing in return.

Jennifer touched her lips, remembering their kiss in the middle of the thunderstorm. The desperation, the fear, the longing. It had been impulsive, desperate, both aware of the approaching mercenaries on their trail, the danger escalating around them. Noah had pulled away first, his professional boundaries reasserting themselves, though his eyes had told a different story entirely.

Noah stirred, his eyes opening suddenly, instantly alert. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice husky with sleep.

“Nothing,” Jennifer whispered. “Everything’s quiet. You should rest—you’ve been shot—”

“I’ve had worse.” He sat up, grimacing slightly as he checked the bandage. “Have you slept at all?”

She shook her head. “I can’t stop thinking.”

Noah swung his legs over the side of the bed, now sitting beside her. The proximity sent a flutter through her stomach, despite everything.

“About the airport?” he asked.

“About what happens after.” The words escaped before she could reconsider them. “After the trial, I mean.”

Noah was silent for a long moment, his profile illuminated by the slash of light coming through the partially opened bathroom door. “That depends on the verdict,” he finally said. “If they’re convicted, you’ll have options. You could stay in WITSEC, or—”

“That’s not what I mean.” Jennifer turned to face him fully, gathering her courage. “What happens to us?”

The question hung in the air between them. Noah’s expression remained unreadable, but she saw the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his hand gripped the edge of the mattress.

“Jen…” She loved it when he used the shortened version of her name. It felt intimate in a way her full name never did. “You know I can’t—we can’t—while I’m assigned to your protection.”

“But after?”

He looked at her then, really looked at her, his eyes searching her face as if memorizing every detail. “After might not be simple either. You’ll be rebuilding your life. Finding your footing.”

“I know who I am now,” she said firmly. “The woman in Paris—she wasn’t real. She was hiding. I don’t want to be her again.”

“And who are you now?” His voice had dropped lower, the professional distance slipping.

“Someone who’s tired of running. Someone who’s fallen in love with her bodyguard, as terribly cliché as that sounds.” Jennifer gave a small, self-deprecating laugh, though her heart hammered in her chest. “I know it’s fast. I know it’s complicated. But I also know what I feel.”

Noah reached up, his calloused fingers brushing her cheek with unexpected tenderness. “It’s not just you,” he admitted quietly. “But my job—your safety—must come first right now. You understand that, don’t you?”

She nodded, leaning slightly into his touch. “I understand. But I needed you to know. Before whatever happens tomorrow, or the next day. Before the trial.” Before I lose my chance to tell you.

A sound from outside broke the moment—a car pulling into the parking lot, its headlights sweeping across their window. Noah was instantly on his feet, gun in hand, moving to the window with fluid precision despite his injury.

“Stay back,” he ordered, all softness gone from his voice as he peered through the curtain. “Black sedan. Two men.”

Jennifer’s heart stuttered as she slipped off the bed, reaching for her bag. “Skinner?”

“Can’t tell.” Noah was already checking the clip in his weapon. “But we’re not taking chances. There’s a back exit through the bathroom window. I’ll cover you.”

“Noah.” Jennifer caught his arm as he turned toward her. Without hesitation, she pulled him down into a fierce kiss, her hand curving around the back of his neck, pulling him close. He responded immediately, his arm circling her waist, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss with an intensity that left no doubt about his feelings.

When they broke apart, breathless, she looked up at him with determined eyes. “That wasn’t goodbye,” she whispered. “That was a promise.”

A rare smile touched his lips, transforming his face. “Then let’s make sure we’re around to keep it.” He pressed the car keys into her palm. “If we get separated, and you can’t contact one of my brothers, head for New Orleans. Find Gator.”

Jennifer nodded, committing this precious memory, this moment, into her heart. The warmth of his hand around hers, the resolved set of his features, the knowledge that whatever happened next, something irreversible had changed between them.

Noah watched the black sedan pull into a parking spot further down the row from their room, and the two men got out, opened the trunk and took out a suitcase, and unlocked the door of a room nearly at the end of the row and walk inside.

Not a threat.

The sound of footsteps on the walkway outside their door sent them both into motion. A sharp knock pounded on their door, and Noah pushed the curtain aside the tiniest amount, and looked outside, before letting out a sigh.

“It’s Caleb.” Opening the door, he motioned his brother into the room.

“Time to get moving, bro. I’m going to hang with you guys for the next couple days, and the rest of the family is going to split up and stay away from the homestead until Jennifer’s back safe in New Orleans. Plan is to keep moving, keep shuffling up towns and locations where we stay, until it’s time to get this pretty lady to testify. Uncle Gator is going to keep tabs on the Amirs’ and keep us posted if anything pops.” Caleb smiled her way, and Jennifer felt heat flood her cheeks.

“You don’t need to come—”

“Shut up, Noah. I don’t want to hear any lip from you. Uncle Gator and the rest of us agree, you are not doing this alone. Scott was going to come with us, but he’s got to head back and handle some emergency. I didn’t get all the details, but he’s being a bit mysterious. I know it’s something personal. Anyway, take the backup we can give you to keep Jennifer safe. It doesn’t look like Skinner’s figured out where we are yet, so we’ve caught a break, but there are still several days before y’all need to be at the courthouse. Between the two of us, and with Uncle Gator providing Intel, we should make it.”

Jennifer walked forward and took Caleb’s hand in hers. “Thank you. I know nobody was expecting to have to deal with my mess when Noah took on the job as my bodyguard, didn’t expect to drag his family into this job, but I’m glad he has you he can count on. And I appreciate your offer of assistance.”

Noah pulled his brother in for one of those awkward man hugs, the kind where they pound each other on the back, before turning him loose. The affection between them, between the whole family, was evident in everything they did, and she felt a wave of homesickness flood her. She missed her mother, wanted to talk to her, to see her. But while the Amirs were still a threat, her mother had to stay hiding.

“Thanks. We’re ready. Probably should hit the road.” Noah grabbed the duffle his family had brought them, with a change of clothing for both him and Jennifer inside. She looked around the room, the memories of everything that had happened since the early morning hours still fresh in her mind. Especially the kiss. She’d never forget that kiss.

“My bags already in the trunk. I’ve got the spare keys. I’ll drive so you can get some rest. Doubt you’ve had much sleep since this whole mess started.” Caleb winked at Jennifer. “You too, little missy.”

With a final glance around the room, they walked out into the dawn, the sky lightening. Jennifer knew the next few days would be crucial, hectic, and filled with uncertainty, but one thing was certain—as long as she was with Noah, everything would be okay.