Page 27 of Saving Jennifer
They stood hand in hand under the stars, neither speaking. It wasn’t a declaration or a promise. It was simply an acknowledgment:I see your pain. I carry my own. For this moment, we don’t have to bear it alone.
Tomorrow, Noah would remember his duty. He would maintain the distance necessary to keep her alive. He would be the professional she needed him to be until he delivered her to the courthouse in New Orleans in seven days.
But tonight, in this small cabin hidden in the Tennessee mountains, with the weight of Jennifer’s hand in his and the whiskey warming his blood, Noah allowed himself to forget the ghosts. Just for a moment. Just long enough to remember what it felt like to be human.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jennifer pushed astrand of dark hair from her face as she adjusted her stance on the hard-packed dirt of the forest floor. The morning air was crisp and a little chilly, carrying the scent of pine and something indefinably wild. Three days of isolation in the mountains had begun to calm her perpetually frayed nerves—at least until Noah had insisted on these daily self-defense lessons. She knew they were necessary, and had started to enjoy them, but they were exhausting.
“Again,” Noah commanded, his deep voice brooking no argument. His broad shoulders were squared, feet planted firmly. His Special Forces training was evident in every controlled movement.
Jennifer sighed dramatically. “My arms feel like overcooked pasta, Noah.”
The corner of his mouth twitched—the closest thing to a smile she’d seen since he’d spirited her away from their supposed safe house in the French Quarter, after the latest threat from the Amir family had blown it to fiery pieces.
“The human body has approximately six hundred and fifty muscles,” Noah replied, his gray eyes never leaving hers. “I’m currently asking you to use about twenty. Pretty sure you’ll survive.”
“I’m starting to wonder,” she muttered under her breath. “Are you always this encouraging with your clients?” Jennifer asked, blowing out a breath that sent her bangs fluttering.
“Only the French ones who complain every five minutes,” he countered smoothly.
Jennifer raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have you know that complaining is a cherished cultural tradition in France. We consider it an art form.”
This time, Noah’s mouth definitely curved upward. He held out his hand, and she passed him the Glock19 he had her practicing with. With an ease and smoothness she envied, he popped the clip, shoved it in his pocket, and tucked the Glock in the back of his waistband. “Show me the escape move one more time, and we can break for lunch.”
Jennifer nodded, assuming the position he’d taught her. Noah stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her throat from behind—loosely, but positioned precisely where an attacker would grab. She felt the solid wall of his chest against her back, his controlled breathing tickling her ear.
Focus, Jennifer. This is about survival, not how good he smells.
She executed the move as he’d taught her—dropping her weight, twisting her body, and using his own momentum to break his hold. Her elbow contacted his ribs, pulling the strike as he’d instructed, then stepping away quickly.
“Better,” Noah nodded, approval warming his typically stoic expression. “You learn quickly.”
She started to reply, but his body stiffened, going to complete attention from one breath to the next. He held up a fist, a sign he’d taught her on their first day of self-defense class, one that meant to freeze and most definitely not talk. Scanning the tree line, she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but Noah obviously heard or sensed something. His entire demeanor changed in an instant, his hand immediately going to the weapon holstered at his hip.
“Inside. Now,” he ordered quietly, all traces of their momentary camaraderie vanishing.
Jennifer complied without argument, spinning around and sprinting toward the cabin and slipping through the door as Noah moved to the edge of the deck, positioning himself with a clear view of anybody approaching while keeping partial cover from the cabin’s support post.
“Hello, the house,” a cheerful voice called out from a stand of trees. Jennifer spotted a dark-haired man step into the clearing, both hands raised to shoulder height, holding a canvas tote bag in each. Noah’s shoulders slumped, and the hand holding the pistol dropped to his side. “Hey, big brother! Planning to shoot me before lunch?”
The man was unmistakably related to Noah—the same tall frame and broad shoulders, though he carried himself with a loose-limbed ease Noah never displayed. Where Noah’s hair was shorter, this man’s was longer, curling slightly around his ears. His smile was wide and immediate, revealing perfect white teeth in a tanned face.
“Marcel,” Noah said flatly. “What are you doing here?”
“Good to see you too,” Marcel replied, completely unfazed by his brother’s chilly reception. He shook the canvas bags. “Uncle Gator called. Said you might need supplies. Though knowing you, you’d rather eat pinecones than ask for help.”
Noah finally holstered his weapon, his posture relaxing fractionally. “You should have called first.”
“And miss seeing you all wound up and tactical? Never.” Marcel grinned, hefting the grocery bags. “Besides, I brought the good bourbon. The kind you pretend not to like until you’re three glasses in.”
Jennifer couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips. Noah’s head turned sharply toward her, as if he’d forgotten she was watching from inside the cabin.
Marcel followed his brother’s gaze, his eyes widening appreciatively when he spotted Jennifer. “Well now, this assignment makes a lot more sense.” His loping steps ate up the distance until he stood on the porch, inches from Noah. He shifted both grocery bags to one arm and extended his hand toward Jennifer. “Marcel Temple. The fun brother.”
“Jennifer Baptiste,” she replied, opening the screen door and shaking his offered hand. “Noah’s client.”
“Client, huh?” Marcel’s eyes danced with mischief as he glanced between them. “And here I thought Noah had finally learned how to have a personal life. Been a while since he let loose and had a little fun.”