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CHAPTER SIX

G ator’s fishing camp seemed eerily quiet except for the steady patter of rain against the tin roof. Jennifer sat curled in the corner of a worn leather sofa, her fingertips absently tracing the rim of a coffee mug that had long since gone cold. A couple of hours had passed since Gator’s son, Jean-Luc, had shown up carrying supplies and updating her and Noah on what was happening with her case. Which didn’t amount to much. Outside, darkness had settled over the bayou, turning the windows into black mirrors that reflected the sparse interior of the cabin where Noah brought her earlier that afternoon.

A handful of days in protective custody. She gave a halfhearted laugh. Protective custody—ha. More like glorified babysitting, even if Noah was more than qualified to keep her safe. Days spent wondering if the Amirs had traced her steps to the middle of the backwaters of the outskirts of New Orleans.

Noah moved silently through the small kitchen, his military training evident in his efficient movements. Even in their self-imposed isolation, he maintained a vigilance that both reassured and unnerved Jennifer. The cabin was modest but secure—one room—a living area with the kitchenette, and a small bathroom. A full-sized bed took up most of the far wall, covered with a handmade quilt, which she’d wrapped around herself earlier. While it was cozy in a lack of amenities kind of way, it had everything they needed to survive. Most importantly, it was off the grid, known only to a select few from Noah’s past. In other words, the Boudreaus. Gator and his sons and daughter.

“Perimeter’s clear. I haven’t seen or heard anybody close. Nobody’s gone past since Jean-Luc dropped off the supplies,” Noah announced, setting his handgun on the counter before pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee. “Storm’s getting worse, though.”

Jennifer nodded, pulling the quilt she’d confiscated off the bed tighter around her shoulders. “Thank you. I know I wasn’t exactly welcoming toward you in the beginning, but I appreciate you helping watch over me until I testify.”

“Just doing my job,” he replied, but his eyes lingered on her face a moment longer than necessary.

The silence between them had grown comfortable over the past few days but tonight felt different. Heavier. The wind outside rattled the windows, rain splashing against the glass panes, before a crack of thunder rattled the glass, shaking the cabin walls. Her eyes lit on the gun he normally carried, like it was an extension—a part of him.

“You never talk about it,” Jennifer said suddenly. “Your time in the military.”

Noah’s body tensed almost imperceptibly. He took a deliberate sip of coffee before moving to join her in the living room, choosing the ragged armchair opposite the sofa. The arms were covered with crocheted doilies, the color aging from white to a creamy color. She smiled at the feminine touch, so out of place in the totally masculine cabin, not unlike the handmade quilt wrapped around her shoulders.

“Not much to say that matters anymore.”

“It matters,” she whispered softly. “It’s part of who you are.”

Lightning flashed, the inside of the cabin lighting up with a brightness the kerosine lamps couldn’t match. The scent of ozone permeated the air for a few seconds before the scent of brackish salt water returned. The flash of light briefly illuminated his face—the strong jawline, the scar that slashed his eyebrow, eyes perpetually on guard. In that flash, Jennifer caught a glimpse of something raw and wounded beneath his normally composed exterior.

“Kabul,” he finally said, his voice low. “Three tours. Special Forces. The last one ended…badly.” Jennifer remained silent, giving him space. “Our unit was ambushed. Intelligence failure. Half of my team didn’t make it out.” His fingers tightened around his mug. “I listened to my commanding officer, obeyed when I should have questioned orders. A mistake that cost lives. Lives which were my responsibility.”

“You blame yourself,” she observed.

“Wouldn’t you?” The question came out sharper than he intended, and Noah immediately shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jennifer set her mug down. “I understand blame better than most people.”

Noah’s gaze met hers, curious and cautious. “Because of Tarik?”

The name hung in the air between them, a specter neither had fully addressed until now.

Jennifer took a deep breath. “Tarik Amir. My half-brother. The monster I led straight to Salem Hudson and almost cost her the life of her unborn child.” Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.

“You couldn’t have known—”

“I didn’t care.” Jennifer interrupted, standing abruptly. She moved to the window, watching raindrops trace jagged paths down the glass. “I was so desperate to be accepted by my father’s family I ignored every warning sign. Every red flag.” Noah remained silent, giving her space to continue. “My mother had an affair with Muhammed Amir. She met him on one of his visits to Paris, doing business for the legitimate branch of the family’s enterprises. She started as a temp from an agency, and worked her way up to his executive assistant,” Jennifer continued, her voice distant as if recounting someone else’s story. “When she told him she was pregnant, he paid her off, told her to ‘get rid of the problem,’ and never acknowledged my existence. I grew up knowing who my father was—watching him from afar with his perfect family, his acknowledged children.”

“I imagine that wasn’t easy.”

She turned back to face Noah. “I didn’t understand why my father didn’t love me, didn’t want to even talk to me. When I was about ten, my mother must have done or said something to him, because he began sending money. Paid for me to go to school. He never came to visit, never talked to me directly, but I thought the money, the changes, meant he cared. That he loved me, even though he couldn’t say it aloud.”

Noah moved into the kitchen, and Jennifer heard water running, and watched him place the red teakettle on the burner. Though she appreciated him making her tea, right now she’d feel better with a stiff whiskey. Maybe two. Talking about how she’d made a fool of herself wasn’t easy. In fact, the only other person who knew about her humiliation was her mother.

Noah placed the mug on the small side table beside the sofa, and moved to stand by the front door, which he’d left partially open now that the storm was passing. He hadn’t met her eyes since she’d started telling him about Muhammed Amir. Not that she blamed him. She’d been a miserable and horrid person. She was trying to change. Being in Shiloh Springs, finding out the truth about Tarik, what a horrible person he’d been—that he’d been using her the whole time—from the very beginning, well, the thought made her ill. But she wasn’t about to whitewash or sugarcoat the details of her life, what had led to her change of heart, the decision to help Salem and little Chloe. She took a sip of her tea, smiling when she realized he’d made it exactly how she liked, black with two sugars. It was kind of nice that he’d noticed such a small thing.

“Tarik found me five years ago. Said he’d been shocked to find out he had a sister he’d never known about. He’d discovered my identity after Muhammed died, when he’d been going through his father’s will and other paperwork. There was a copy of my birth certificate. I’m not sure how he got a copy of it, but that’s not important. He was not listed on the document as my father. Somehow he had a DNA test done, and it showed he was my biological father. Tarik wanted to connect with me, he said. He was kind, talked to me, listened to me. Asked questions about me, my mother, my relationship with our father. Even promised to bring me to Dubai so I could meet the rest of my siblings.”

“And you believed him,” Noah said, not as an accusation but with understanding.

“God, yes. I was so pathetically eager.” Jennifer’s laugh was tinged with bitterness. “For the first time in my life, someone from the Amir family wanted me. He came to Paris. Invited me to dinner. Introduced me as his half-sister to business associates. It felt…like coming home.”

Noah set his cup down and leaned forward. “He was grooming you.”

Jennifer nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. “I always thought I was smart. I started my own business, had regular clients. While I didn’t have access to the upper echelon of Paris, I was slowly building my portfolio.”

Thunder rumbled outside, vibrating through the cabin walls.

“Then he told me about Salem,” she continued, her voice hollow. “Said she was an old girlfriend who’d disappeared, that he was worried about her.” Jennifer’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t know she was hiding from him. That she was terrified of him. That she was carrying his child and he’d—”

Her voice broke, and Noah crossed to her, at her side in an instant.

“Hey,” his voice was gentle, his hands coming to rest lightly on her shoulders. “Salem is safe now. Because of you. Because you realized the truth and warned her in time.”

“I’m the one who put her in danger in the first place!” Jennifer’s voice rose with self-recrimination. “You don’t understand what he did to her, Noah. Things were bad enough she had to run, escape from him and his family. She had to rely on strangers to help her. And I foolishly helped Tarik find her— for money . You don’t know what I was like. I’m trying to be better, to be different, but I was not a good person. I was selfish and vain. Growing up the way I did, with only my mother, never knowing if there’d be enough money to pay the bills. I vowed I’d never live like that. I became obsessed with making a name for myself, earning enough money that no one would ever look down on me, no one would ever control me. Yet all Tarik needed to do was wave a sob story in front of me and offer my buckets of cash, and I almost killed an innocent woman and her unborn child. Sometimes I think Tarik wasn’t the monster…I was.” She shuddered. “I’d already left Shiloh Springs when Tarik was killed. I couldn’t confront him. Not that he’d have told me the truth. To him, Salem was simply a possession. As far as he was concerned, she belonged to him. That baby belonged to him. That’s when I knew everything had been a lie. My place in the family—it was never real. I’d simply been a tool for him to use and toss away when my usefulness was finished.”

Noah’s hands tightened slightly on her shoulders. “The Amirs run one of the largest criminal enterprises in the Middle East. Tarik wasn’t just abusive; he was dangerous at a level most people can’t comprehend.”

“And I led him right to a pregnant woman trying to escape him,” Jennifer whispered. “What kind of person does that make me?”

“Someone manipulated by an expert,” Noah said firmly. “Someone who, when she recognized the truth, risked everything to fix it. Someone brave enough to wear a wire and gather evidence against the family who refused to acknowledge her. Someone who’s been hiding for weeks, helping build a case that could finally bring them down.”

Jennifer looked up at him, searching his face for judgment and finding none.

“We’re more alike than you think, Jennifer,” Noah said quietly. “Both outsiders. Both living with ghosts we can’t quite shake. Both trying to make right what went wrong.”

“Is that why you took on this assignment?” she asked. “To right your own personal wrong?”

A sad smile touched his lips. “After my dishonorable discharge, I couldn’t…be around people. Didn’t trust myself. The cabin was safe. Isolated. I could handle the nightmares without scaring anyone.” He paused. “Then Uncle Gator called about you. Said you needed protection by someone who wouldn’t be in any system the Amir’s with all their money and power could access.”

“And you agreed.”

“I owed Gator for something he did to help me a long time ago. But more than that…something about your situation resonated with me. Someone betrayed by a person they trusted and fighting back, refusing to simply walk away. I guess I wanted to see what that kind of courage looked like.”

The admission hung in the air between them, honest and vulnerable. Jennifer reached up, her fingers gently touching the scar on his face. “We carry our wounds differently, some on the outside and others on the inside, but we’re not so different underneath.”

Noah’s breath caught at her touch. His hand moved almost involuntarily to cover hers, pressing her palm against his cheek. For a moment, they stood like that, the storm forgotten, the distance between them dissolving.

“Jennifer,” he whispered, a question in his voice.

She answered by closing the space between them, her lips meeting his in a kiss so gentle it was almost hesitant. Noah remained perfectly still for a heartbeat before responding, his arms encircling her waist, drawing her closer.

The kiss deepened, tender yet urgent, as if they were both suddenly aware of all the broken pieces inside themselves that might fit together. Jennifer felt lightheaded, anchored only by Noah’s steady presence, by the surprising softness of his lips against hers.

When they finally broke apart, neither spoke immediately, foreheads touching, and her breath caught at the surprising tenderness he’d shown. She licked her lips, and leaned forward, wanting him to kiss her again. Craved the feel of his lips against hers.

The sudden vibration of Jennifer’s secure phone shattered the moment. Only four people had this number—Noah, her attorney, Gator Boudreau, and Salem.

Jennifer pulled away reluctantly, retrieving the phone from her pocket. Her face paled as she read the message.

“What is it?” Noah asked, instantly alert, the vulnerability of moments before replaced by professional vigilance.

Jennifer’s hands trembled as she held out the phone.

The Amirs are mobilizing. Be careful. Trust no one except your shadow.

Noah’s expression hardened as he read. “Your shadow. That’s me?”

Jennifer nodded. “Salem’s code for my bodyguard. She never wanted to know your real name—said it was safer that way.”

“Smart woman.” Noah handed the phone back, already moving toward his weapon. “I need to contact Gator, see if this location has been compromised. We might need to change to another safe house. This place has been secure, but if they’re escalating…”

“There’s nowhere they won’t eventually find me,” Jennifer said, drawing in a steadying breath. “The Amirs have connections everywhere. Money. Influence.”

Noah turned toward her, his eyes intense. “Listen to me. I won’t let them touch you. Whatever happens, whatever it takes. You are not alone in this.”

The promise in his voice was fierce, absolute. Jennifer felt something shift inside her—the weight of guilt and fear momentarily lifted by the certainty that whatever came next, she wouldn’t face it alone.

“Pack up what we brought in case we need to move,” Noah instructed, his voice gentle but urgent. “Be ready to leave in ten minutes.”

As Jennifer walked across the cabin to gather their few belongings, she touched her fingertips to her lips briefly, the memory of their kiss still vivid. In the midst of danger and uncertainty, something unexpected bloomed between them—something more than simple attraction. More than need based on proximity. No, this felt remarkably like the promise of a future, if they managed to survive.

Outside, as the remnants of the storm echoed in the distance, a soft rain fell through the branches of the trees overhead, she couldn’t help feeling like the violence of the passing storm felt like a warning of what was to come.