Page 13 of Saving Jennifer
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.