Page 5

CHAPTER FOUR

S oft jazz drifted up through the floorboards like smoke, coating Jennifer’s nerves with a temporary soothing balm. They’d rushed through New Orleans, landing in the French Quarter and settled into the new apartment earlier that evening. She’d gone to her room, trying to get some sleep, but it had proved impossible, so she’d come back out to the main living area.

She hadn’t bothered unpacking, because honestly, what was the point, they’d only have to move again. She knew in her gut this was simply another stop, another bump in the road, before they had to move again.

Closing her eyes, she let the mournful saxophone pull her away from the stark reality of her situation. Ten days. In ten days, she’d face them in court. The thought made her stomach clench in knots.

From across the small apartment, Noah watched her, his gray eyes missing nothing. He was leaning against the kitchenette counter, arms folded across his broad chest, his body a study in controlled power. Even in repose, there was something dangerous about him, a coiled readiness that both unnerved and attracted her.

I can’t do this, can’t allow myself to have feelings for Noah. My life is a garbled mess, and I can’t, I won’t, drag him into the middle of my walking disaster.

“You should try to get some sleep.” His deep voice cut through the music wafting from the jazz club below them.

Jennifer opened her eyes. “How can I sleep when they’re out there? When they could be—”

“They’re not getting to you,” Noah said firmly. “Not while I’m here.”

There was something in the way he spoke—so certain, so absolute—that made her believe him, despite everything. Noah Temple was a man who kept his promises. She let out the breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding.

She moved to the window, unable to stay still. The French Quarter glittered just beyond, neon signs piercing the darkness, their bright colors beckoning to her artistic soul. Tourists and locals drifted from one bar to the next, oblivious to the danger lurking in the shadows. How she envied their freedom.

“I never expected to be hiding away in New Orleans,” she murmured more to herself than to Noah. “When I left Paris, I thought…” She trailed off, unwilling to revisit the ruins of her old life. She’d never expected her craving for a family, for a connection to another person, would drive her away from her home.

“You thought you were helping your half-brother.” Noah finished her sentence, as if he could read her thoughts. “You’ll be able to go back, once this trial is over.”

Jennifer turned to face him. “If I survive that long.”

Noah crossed the small room in three strides, stopping just short of touching her. Even without contact, she felt the heat radiating from his body. She jerked in surprise when he took her hand and led her away from the window.

“You can’t be standing there. It’s too dangerous, and you’re making yourself a target.”

She shook her head, feeling foolish. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and intense. “The Amirs are powerful, yes. But they’re not invincible. You’ve already proven that.”

“I merely passed along information…”

“Information that saved a child from being kidnapped and taken halfway around the world. Away from her mother, the only home she knew,” Noah reminded her. “That’s not ‘merely’ anything.”

She looked up at him, suddenly aware of how close they stood. In the dim light peeking through the window, the flashes of color from the neon signs, the angles of his face were thrown into sharp relief. The strong jaw, the straight nose, the scar that bisected his left eyebrow. A face that had seen combat, that had weathered storms both literal and figurative. He wasn’t a pretty boy. She’d never been attracted to the boy toys all her colleagues found alluring. No, she’d always looked for somebody with character, life experience. Noah had everything she’d always found attractive, the kind of man she’d have been happy to see casually for dinner and drinks, maybe a visit to a museum, or a walk along the Champs-élysée on a rainy day, huddled beneath an umbrella and splashing in the puddles. She clenched her hands into fists, fighting the urge to run her fingertip along his cheek, brush against the dusting of stubble along his chin.

“Why do you do this?” she asked softly. “This work—protecting people like me?”

Something flickered across his features. “Let’s just say I understand what it’s like to be hunted. To be lied to. Betrayed by those I trusted.”

Before she could ask him to elaborate, a scent drifted to her nostrils—faint yet familiar. She frowned. “Do you smell something?”

Noah stiffened, his body instantly alert. He sniffed the air, and his expression darkened. “Gas,” he answered, already moving toward the door. “We need to get out. Now.”

Fear spiked through her veins. “Gas? But how—”

“I’m not sure. Possibly somebody tampered with the line. Shouldn’t have happened, because Gator’s got somebody patrolling outside. But we need to get out, have somebody check, just to be on the safe side.”

Noah grabbed her backpack from beside the couch and thrust it into her hands, one she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t the bag she’d brought with her. “This has everything you need—ID, money, phone. Go down the fire escape. I’ll be right behind you.”

Jennifer clutched the bag to her chest. “But what about—”

“Jennifer,” his voice brooking no argument, “We don’t have time to argue about this. Go.”

The urgency in his voice propelled her into action. She yanked open the window leading to the fire escape, the night air rushing in to greet her. As she climbed out, she heard Noah speaking rapidly into his phone.

“Gator, we may have been compromised. Gas leak at the apartment. Check with your guy, see if he saw or heard anything. Heading out now. Will meet up at extraction point B. Yes, I’ve got her.”

The metal of the fire escape was cold beneath Jennifer’s hands as she descended, her heart pounding a frantic tattoo against her ribs. Above her, she heard Noah’s footfalls as he followed behind her.

They’d just reached the bottom when the world exploded. The force of the blast threw Jennifer forward onto the pavement. Heat seared her back, and debris rained down around her. For a moment, she couldn’t hear anything but a high-pitched ringing sound. Then strong hands hauled her to her feet, and Noah’s face swam into view.

His mouth was moving, but she couldn’t make out the words. Shaking her head, she pointed to her ears. A look of understanding crossed his face. Gradually, sound returned: sirens in the distance, people shouting, the crackle of flames.

“We need to move.” There was a cut above his eye, blood trickling down his temple. His expression was grim. “They’ll expect us to wait for first responders. We can’t stay here.”

Jennifer looked back at the building. On the upper floor—their apartment—black smoke billowing into the night sky. People were pouring out of the jazz club below, some coughing, others shoving to get outside, staring in horror at the inferno.

“They tried to kill us,” she whispered, reality sinking in. “The Amirs tried to kill me again.”

Noah’s grip on her arm tightened. “And they’ll succeed if we don’t move. Now. Come on.”

He pulled her into the shadowed alley beside the club, away from the gathering crowd. Jennifer stumbled after him, legs shaking, her mind racing.

“Where are we going?”

“Away from here,” Noah replied tersely. “Gator’s going to meet us. We arranged a meet up spot, a contingency plan in case we needed one, but we need to stay mobile until then.”

They emerged onto a side street, less crowded than the main thoroughfares, but still busy with nightlife. Noah kept them moving at a brisk pace, his hand at the small of her back, guiding her through the throng of bodies. To anyone watching, they’d hopefully appear to be just another couple out for the evening, as long as they didn’t look too closely at the soot on their clothes or the tension in their postures.

“Your uncle,” Jennifer barely got the words out before a bout of coughing forced her to stop walking and catch her breath, “he’ll be able to find us?”

Noah nodded. “Gator knows this city better than anyone. We need to keep moving, change direction often. Make it harder for anybody to track us.”

They turned down another street, one lined with shops mostly closed for the night. Jennifer’s nerves were stretched to breaking point, every shadow concealing a potential threat, every passing stranger a possible pursuer.

“The couple in the apartment next to ours,” she said suddenly, the thought striking her like a physical blow. “Did they—”

“The club was evacuating when we left,” Noah assured her. “I heard the alarm. And the gas seemed concentrated in our unit. I don’t think it was an accident. It was targeted.”

A chill ran down Jennifer’s spine. “How did they find us?”

“I don’t know,” Noah admitted, his jaw tight. “But I intend to find out.”

They crossed another street, weaving through a group of tourists who were too intoxicated to notice their disheveled state. Too drunk to notice the acrid scent of smoke filling the air. The night was warm, humid in the way only New Orleans could be, and Jennifer could feel sweat mingling with the ash on her skin.

“We need to contact Carpenter Security,” she said, suddenly remembering the backpack Noah had given her, still clutched in her hand. “They need to know what happened.”

“They know.” Noah replied. “I texted them the code for an emergency extraction while we were coming down the fire escape. Plus, I talked to Gator. He’ll have told Samuel the minute we hung up. They’ll have people looking for us.”

Jennifer nodded, a small measure of relief washing over her. Then she saw it, a sleek black car crawling down the street toward them, moving too slowly to be a casual driver. They’d made it to the edge of the French Quarter in their mad dash away from the apartment, to where the streets were active with traffic, even at the late hour.

Noah obviously spotted the car too. Without a word, he pulled her into the recessed doorway of a closed boutique, pressing her against the wall, his body shielding her from view. The car passed by, the darkly tinted windows making it impossible to see inside.

“Could be nothing,” Noah murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “But we can’t stay here.”

He was close enough Jennifer could feel his heartbeat—steady, controlled, unlike her own racing pulse. Despite the danger, she was acutely aware of his proximity, of the solid warmth of his chest against hers. Even during their crazy mad dash for safety, he made her feel almost giddy.

“Noah,” she whispered, not sure what she wanted to say.

He looked down at her, his eyes dark and unreadable in the shadows. For a moment, something electric passed between them—an acknowledgment of the tension that had been building since they’d been forced into this intimate proximity day after day.

Without a word he pulled back, all business once more. “This way,” he said, guiding her back onto the street and down another alley. They emerged onto a street filled with jazz clubs and bars, along with the ever-present coffee shops that seemed to occupy every street corner. Even this late at night, people sat at little tables, fueling with caffeine and sugar, the soulful music spilling out onto the sidewalk. Noah steered her into the crowd, using the throng as cover. Jennifer tried to blend in, tried to look like she belonged, but her heart wouldn’t stop hammering. She was sure everyone they passed could hear it pounding inside her chest, the racing thump, thump, thump loud in her ears, almost drowning out the music pouring from the open doorways they passed.

“We’re going to meet Gator in Jackson Square,” Noah was saying, “He has a friend who owns a tarot shop there. We can—”

He stopped abruptly, his grip on her arm tightening to the point of pain. Following his gaze, Jennifer felt her knees weaken, and she’d have collapsed to the ground if Noah hadn’t been holding onto her. The blood drained from her face.

Standing not twenty feet away, scanning the crowd with predatory intent, was Rashid Amir.

“Impossible,” she breathed. “He’s supposed to be in custody.”

“That’s not Rashid,” Noah said grimly. “That’s his cousin, Karim. Same height, same build. He was in the files Carpenter sent over.”

“He’s looking for me.” Fear closed her throat, and she could barely breathe, unable to look away from the man who was part of the family who’d turned their back on her for most of her life—until they’d needed her. Now that she’d outlived her usefulness to them, they were ready to toss her aside like a used tissue.

“Yes,” Noah agreed, already maneuvering them away, using the crowd as a shield, “but he hasn’t seen us yet. Keep your head down.”

They ducked into another side street, Noah moving with purpose now, no longer wandering to throw off pursuit, but heading directly away from the threat.

“How many of them do you think there are?” Jennifer asked, struggling to keep up with his longer strides.

“Don’t know,” Noah replied tersely. “But we have to assume they’re coordinating, probably with hired locals, trying to find you.”

They turned another corner, and Jennifer nearly collided with Noah’s back when he stopped abruptly. Ahead of them, another man in a dark suit walked toward them, his hand reaching inside his jacket.

“Back,” Noah hissed, but it was too late. The man had spotted them.

What happened next was a blur. Noah shoved Jennifer behind him, reaching for the weapon holstered at the small of his back. The man in the suit pulled out his own gun, but Noah was faster. Two shots rang out, shockingly loud in the narrow street.

The man staggered, then crumpled to the ground. Noah grabbed Jennifer’s hand and pulled her into a run. “Somebody’s bound to have heard that,” he said, his voice tight. “Police will be coming.”

They sprinted down the street, Jennifer’s lungs burning, terror giving her speed she didn’t know she possessed. Behind them, she could hear shouts, then more gunfire. A bullet pinged off the wall beside them, showering them with fragments of brick.

“In here,” Noah said, yanking open a door. They tumbled inside, into what appeared to be a storage room filled with boxes and furniture covered with plastic tarps and sheets. He slammed the door shut behind them, then dragged a heavy shelf in front of it.

“Where are we?” Jennifer bent over, hands on her knees, gasping as she tried to catch her breath.

“Back entrance to an antique shop,” Noah said, already moving through the cluttered space. “One of my cousins has an ex-girlfriend who owns the place. There should be another exit…”

He trailed off, peering through the gloom. The only light came from a small window high up on one wall, casting everything in a dim, bluish glow.

Jennifer straightened, trying to control her breathing. “That man…is he…?”

“Yes,” Noah said simply. There was no apology in his voice, no regret, just a calm acceptance of what he’d had to do.

Jennifer wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the sweltering heat permeating the room. “I never wanted anyone to die because of me.”

Noah turned to look at her, his expression softening for the first time that night. “This isn’t on you, Jennifer. The Amirs made their choice when they decided to break the law. When they decided that a child was property to be stolen. When they decided that murder was an acceptable way to solve their problems.”

He stepped closer, and despite everything, Jennifer felt that same pull, that same awareness of him as a man, not just a protector.

“You’re doing the right thing,” he continued, his voice low and intense. “Standing up to people like that takes courage. Real courage.”

“I don’t feel very courageous right now,” Jennifer admitted, hating the tremor in her voice.

Noah’s hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man capable of such violence. “That’s the thing about courage,” he whispered softly. “It’s about being afraid and doing the right thing anyway.”

For a moment they stood there, suspended in time, the danger outside temporarily forgotten. Then Noah’s phone buzzed, breaking the spell. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it free, relief washing over his features when he looked at the screen. “Gator. He’s two blocks away with backup. Carpenter Security has been alerted to our position as well.” He tapped the phone. “We made sure there was a tracker on this phone, wanted to make sure the team could find us anywhere. Just in case.”

Jennifer nodded, both relieved and strangely disappointed at the interruption. “So, we’re safe?”

“Not yet,” Noah cautioned, moving toward what appeared to be another door at the far end of the room. “But soon. Come on.”

They made their way through the cluttered space, stepping around antique furniture and stacks of boxes. Noah reached the door and tried the handle. It turned easily under his hand.

“Gator always said the owner of this place never locks the interior doors,” he murmured, opening it a crack and peering through. “Looks clear.” She followed him into a narrow hallway, dimly lit by emergency exit signs. At the far end, a door led out to what appeared to be an alley. “That’s our exit,” Noah said, leading the way. “Gator will meet us there.”

They had just reached the door when Jennifer’s phone rang—the one from the backpack Noah had given her. She fumbled for it, her hands shaking, and answered without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Ms. Baptiste? This is Martin Chastain, the assistant district attorney. I’m co-council on your case with Martin Delacroix.”

Jennifer frowned, knowing if the district attorney’s office was calling at this hour, it couldn’t be good news. “Mr. Chastain? How did you get this number?”

“Through Carpenter Security,” he replied, his voice tense. “I hate calling this late, but I didn’t want you to hear this and panic. The judge has thrown out a good chunk of our evidence. Deemed it inadmissible, which puts us back several steps heading into trial. The Amirs’ lawyers are good—very good.”

Jennifer felt a cold knot form in her stomach. “Inadmissible? I don’t understand.” She looked at Noah, noting his frown. “What does this mean?”

“It means your testimony is now the linchpin of our case,” Chastain said grimly. “Without it, the Amirs will walk free. I’m sorry. I know this puts a tremendous amount of pressure on you, but there it is.”

“I understand,” Jennifer said, though her mouth had gone dry. “I’ll be there, Mr. Chastain. I promise.”

“Good. Carpenter Security has promised to keep me updated on your status, though they won’t tell me or anybody in the district attorney’s office where you’re staying. And that’s a good thing, because we need to make certain your location is kept confidential. If I don’t know, this office doesn’t know, there can’t be any leaks. You can trust them, they’re the best in the business at helping people in your type of situation. Stay safe, Ms. Baptiste.”

The line went dead. Jennifer lowered the phone, meeting Noah’s questioning gaze.

“They’ve thrown out most of the evidence against the Amirs,” she explained, her voice hollow. “My testimony is all they have left.”

Understanding dawned in Noah’s eyes. “So, the attempts on your life…”

“Will only get worse,” Jennifer confirmed.

Before Noah could respond, there was a sharp rap on the exit door—three quick knocks, then two slow ones.

“That’s Gator,” Noah said, moving to open it. “Stay behind me until I confirm it’s safe.”

He opened the door a crack, then wider. Standing in the alley was the older man she’d become all too familiar with over the past few weeks, flanked by two younger men who bore a strong family resemblance.

“Nephew,” Gator greeted Noah. “You got yourself in quite a situation, eh?”

“Not now, Uncle,” Noah said, gesturing Jennifer forward. “We need to move.”

Gator’s eyes fell on Jennifer, assessing her quickly. “Mademoiselle Baptiste,” he said with a nod. “Welcome to the family business of staying alive. These are my sons, Etienne and Sebastian.”

The one named Etienne handed Noah a small duffel bag. “Clean clothes, fresh weapons,” he said. “Car’s waiting around the corner.”

“Carpenter Security?” Noah asked, accepting the bag.

“En route,” Gator confirmed. “They’ll meet us at the safe house. Different one this time, don’t worry.”

They moved as a group down the alley, the two younger men taking point and rear guard, Gator and Noah flanking Jennifer. Despite the protection, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable.

“Ten days,” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. “Just ten more days.”

Noah’s hand found hers in the darkness, his fingers intertwining with her own. It wasn’t professional, wasn’t part of his job description, but at that moment, Jennifer didn’t care. She clung to his hand like a lifeline.

“I’m not leaving your side,” he promised, his voice low enough only she could hear. “Not for a second.”

Despite everything—the explosion, the pursuit, the knowledge she was now the only thing standing between the Amirs and freedom—Jennifer believed him. With Noah beside her, perhaps she could find the courage to face what was coming.

Ten days. She could be brave for ten days.

Even if it killed her.