Page 28 of Saving Jennifer
Noah made a sound suspiciously like a growl. “Jennifer is under my protection until she testifies against the Amir family. This is purely professional.”
“Of course it is,” Marcel agreed with exaggerated seriousness, winking at Jennifer before turning back to his brother. “That’s why you’ve got her practicing combat moves and doing firearm training here in your home-away-from-home, instead of in a nice safe house in New Orleans with actual security systems.”
Jennifer watched with fascination as Noah’s jaw tightened. Though she’d only spent a few days with Noah, this was the first time she’d seen him so visibly rattled.
“New Orleans was compromised. Besides, this cabin has security,” Noah replied tersely.
“Yeah, it’s called ‘being so far up this mountain even the bears get altitude sickness,” Marcel quipped, before brushing past his brother and heading for the door where Jennifer stood. “May I?” he asked politely.
Jennifer stepped aside, allowing him to enter with his grocery bags. Noah followed, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and resignation.
“So, Ms. Baptiste,” Marcel called over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen, “has my brother been boring you to tears with his security protocols and protein-heavy meals? Maybe taken you fishing with him?”
“It’s Jennifer, please,” she replied, following him into the rustic but immaculate kitchen. “And actually, Noah’s been very…” she searched for the right word, “attentive.”
Marcel set the bags on the counter and began unpacking them, revealing fresh vegetables, several packages of what she suspected were meat, a few bottles of wine, and indeed, a bottle of bourbon. “Attentive, huh?” Marcel waggled his eyebrows. “Noah, you dark horse.”
“She means I’ve been doing my job,” Noah clarified, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. “Which is keeping her alive until she can testify.”
“Against the Amirs, right?” Marcel nodded, his expression sobering slightly. “Uncle Gator filled me in. Bad business, that family. They’ve got enough money to be dangerous, even from behind bars.”
Jennifer felt the familiar cold knot form in her stomach at the mention of her half-brother’s family. “Yes. Bad business indeed.”
Marcel seemed to sense the shift in mood. “Hey, I didn’t mean to bring down the room. I’m just glad Noah’s got your back. Despite his sunny personality, he’s the best there is at keeping people safe.”
“I know,” Jennifer said softly, surprising herself with how much she meant it. Just a short time ago, Noah Temple had been a stranger, a security specialist recommended by Gator Boudreau and Carpenter Security Services after the first threats, where she’d barely escaped with her life. Now, after moving from safe house to safe house, attempts on her life in the safe houses and their frantic escape to this mountain hideaway, she couldn’t imagine facing what lay ahead without him.
“So!” Marcel clapped his hands together. “Who’s hungry? I make a mean grilled trout. Caught some fresh ones on my way up the mountain.”
“You stopped to fish on your way to provide backup?” Noah asked incredulously.
Marcel shrugged. “Seemed like you were handling things just fine. And the creek was calling my name.” He turned to Jennifer. “Noah ever tell you about the time he fell into Miller’s Creek trying to show off his fly-fishing skills to Becky Sanderson?”
“No,” Jennifer replied, a smile spreading across her face as she caught Noah’s look of horror. “He hasn’t mentioned that.”
“Marcel—” Noah began, a warning in his voice.
“He was sixteen,” Marcel continued, ignoring his brother completely. “Becky was the prettiest girl in Cedar Ridge High, and Noah had been working up the courage to talk to her for months. Finally spots her at the creek one Saturday, marches right up with Dad’s expensive rod—”
“I’m checking the perimeter,” Noah announced, turning on his heel and striding out of the kitchen.
Marcel winked at Jennifer. “He’ll be back. Can’t stay mad at me for long.” He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a six-pack of beer. “So, Jennifer Baptiste, interior designer extraordinaire—at least according to your very impressive online portfolio—how are you holding up, really?”
Jennifer blinked, surprised by both the personal question and the fact that he’d apparently researched her.
“I’m…” she began, then stopped, unsure how to answer. How was she holding up? Her half-brother was dead. She was preparing to testify against two of the worst members of his family—people who turned their backs on her when they found out she was biologically related to them—at least until they thought she might be of use in their diabolical plan. Before she’d discovered what they really were. People who now wanted her silenced permanently.
“It’s complicated,” she finally said.
Marcel nodded, his playful demeanor softening into something more genuine. “Family usually is. Especially the complicated ones.” He handed her a glass of wine. “Noah doesn’t talk much about what happened with his team. But I know it’s why he’s so…” he gestured vaguely in the direction Noah had disappeared.
“Intense?”
“Careful,” Marcel corrected. “He used to be different. More like me, if you can believe it.” Jennifer raised an eyebrow, unable to imagine Noah with Marcel’s easy smile and relaxed demeanor. “It’s true,” he insisted, leaning against the counter. “We used to get into so much trouble together as kids. There was this one time, we were maybe twelve and thirteen, we decided to build a zip line from the roof of our house to the big oak tree in the backyard.”
“Oh no,” Jennifer laughed, already envisioning disaster.
“Oh yes,” Marcel grinned. “Noah had it all planned out. Calculations, rope strength, proper angles—the whole nine yards. What neither of us factored in was that Grandpa’s old hunting dog would choose that exact moment to chase a squirrel up the oak tree.”