Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Embarquement en cours,” the electronic voice bounced off the domed glass ceiling.
Enzo kept moving, dragging Kathleen along behind him.
He’d taken her hand as soon as they’d gotten out of the car and hadn’t let her go.
He couldn’t say why, other than the obvious, but his senses were on overload.
The car accident had delayed them for hours, and now he had no idea which trains were available.
He was on edge. The station was busy, considering the time of night.
He wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.
Stopping in front of the kiosk, he dropped her hand and started hitting buttons.
“Where are we going?” Kathleen asked. “Is there a direct train to Versailles?” she inquired, looking over his shoulder.
Enzo scanned the screen. “Shit,” he growled. “No, we missed it. We’re going to have to go into Paris and change trains there. We’ll go to Paris Gare du Nord. It’s the biggest, busiest station. It will have trains to Versailles.”
He scrolled down on the screen. There was only one train left that would get them on their way tonight. It was an overnight train. He quickly went through the seating classes. They had one Couchette First Class left. They sold the four berths individually, so he bought the whole thing.
“Enzo,” Kathleen said quietly.
“Yeah, just give me a second. I’m getting our tickets.” He pulled out a credit card bearing a different name and tapped it on the scanner.
“Enzo,” she said again.
He hit the buy button and put the credit card back in his wallet.
“Enzo!”
There was something in her voice that made him look up. He glanced at her. She was staring across the station. She’d gone pale. He followed her gaze, and his gut tightened. It was Dominic and his men. They hadn’t seen Enzo and Kathleen yet, but they were there and looking.
“Son of a bitch.” He glanced down. The tickets were still being printed. “Dai veloce. Andiamo,” he urged the machine to hurry up.
How did they find us?” she murmured.
“I have no idea. They shouldn’t have been able to.” He’d worry about that later. First, they had to retrieve the tickets and get on the train. He glanced at her feet. “Can you run in those heels?” She was still wearing the skirt and top from the restaurant, only now with the hoodie and hat.
She looked down. “If I have to. I can take them off and go barefoot if necessary.” She stared over at Dominic and his men. “Won’t running attract attention?”
“Don’t stare at them. They’ll feel it. Just glance. And yes, it will. We won’t do it unless we have to.” He grabbed the newly printed tickets and readjusted his bag “Let’s go.”
Kathleen fell in beside him with her backpack over her shoulder.
They moved swiftly through the crowd on the opposite side of the station from Dominic.
He and his men were walking back toward the kiosks.
Enzo kept them in his peripheral vision for as long as possible, but then they were out of sight behind him.
“Faster,” he said and grabbed Kathleen’s hand again. They moved as quickly as they could without attracting attention. He was suddenly grateful for the crowd at the station. It made it harder for Dominic to spot them.
They turned around the corner and came to an abrupt halt. Apparently, the train doors hadn’t opened yet for boarding, so everyone was stuck on the platform. His stomach knotted, and sweat broke out on his back. “Shit.”
He tugged Kathleen’s hand and turned, going back the way they came.
“Where are we going? Isn’t that our train?” Kathleen demanded.
“Yeah, but that line means we’re sitting ducks.”
Enzo pulled her forward. “We’re going to the next platform, and we’re gonna run down to the end and come back to our platform. By then, the doors will be open.”
They made the turn onto the next platform and started down at a fast walk. The overhead mechanical voice announced the boarding of their train. “Thank Christ,” Enzo snarled.
Then there was a yell. He glanced back. One of Dominic’s men had seen them from the top of the platform and was pointing at them.
“Run.” He yanked on Kathleen’s arm, and they raced down the length of the platform. People were lining up for the train, and he tried to dodge around them. Kathleen let go of his hand when she almost took out a woman and her child.
He reached back, but she zig-zagged the other way.
Swearing under his breath, he cut left, shouldering past a man dragging a suitcase that refused to cooperate.
Wheels clattered. Someone shouted in French.
The platform narrowed ahead, funneling bodies toward the boarding doors, which were finally sliding open with agonizing slowness.
“Kathleen!” he barked.
“I’m here!” she yelled back, breathless.
He spotted her just ahead, hair escaping her hat, backpack bouncing, shoes dangling uselessly from her hand now. Bare feet slapped against the concrete as she sprinted, fearless, reckless, beautiful in a way that made his chest hurt.
Another shout erupted behind them. Closer this time.
Dominic.
Enzo didn’t need to turn around to know it. He could feel him; the predatory focus, the certainty that prey had been sighted. Dominic wasn’t subtle. He didn’t believe in it.
“Left!” Enzo called.
Kathleen veered as directed, ducking between two men arguing loudly over seat numbers.
Enzo followed, vaulting a low barrier separating queues, ignoring the sharp protest in his shoulder as he clipped the metal frame.
He burst through the gap just as a hand swiped for his jacket and missed by inches.
Too close.
The doors to the sleeping car yawned open ahead of them.
“Train to Paris Gare du Nord now boarding,” the voice droned, maddeningly calm.
Enzo grabbed Kathleen’s wrist and hauled her toward the entrance. A conductor stood at the door, already exasperated, scanning tickets.
“Tickets!” the man snapped.
Enzo shoved them forward. “Couchette. First class.”
The conductor glanced down, then up, taking in Kathleen’s bare feet, Enzo’s wild eyes, the chaos spilling toward them. He hesitated. Behind them, a scream. A woman shrieked as someone was shoved aside.
Dominic’s men were forcing their way through the crowd now, no longer pretending. One of them vaulted the same barrier Enzo had, knocking it sideways. Metal screamed against concrete.
“Now,” Enzo growled.
The conductor stepped aside.
Enzo dragged Kathleen up the narrow steps and into the car, nearly colliding with a couple fumbling with luggage. He shoved past them, hauling Kathleen down the corridor, counting doors, praying the car layout matched what he remembered.
There.
He slammed the compartment door shut behind them and threw the lock just as something heavy hit the metal from the outside. Kathleen clutched her throat and backed into the wall. Her chest heaved, eyes bright and terrified and alive. Another rap, harder this time.
“Open up!” Dominic snarled in Italian.
Enzo braced himself against the door, heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. He glanced at the window, too small, too high. No escape there.
The train lurched. A deep, grinding vibration rolled through the car, followed by the unmistakable sensation of movement. Dominic slammed his shoulder into the door again. The lock rattled but held. Then, nothing.
Silence.
The train picked up speed, the station lights sliding past the narrow window in a blur. Kathleen slid down the wall, breathing hard. “Holy shit,” she whispered.
Enzo stayed where he was for a long moment, hand still pressed to the door, listening. Only when the sounds of the platform faded completely did he allow himself to breathe.
“They were seconds away,” she said.
“I know.”
She looked down at her feet, raw and filthy now, then up at him. “I told you I could run.”
A sharp, helpless laugh tore out of him before he could stop it. He dropped down in front of her, hands gentle as he examined the scrapes on her soles. “You shouldn’t have had to,” he said quietly.
“But I did.” Her voice was steady. Strong. “And we’re still moving.”
He met her gaze. For now. He didn’t bother to voice this thought.
She already knew it. What she might not have noticed is the fact that there was no bathroom attached to the couchette.
That meant that, at some point, they were going to have to open the door.
Eventually, they were going to have to leave the confines of the little cabin, and Dominic would be waiting.
“How did they find us?” Kathleen asked as she struggled to her feet. She’d flung her backpack onto the lower bunk on her way in, and now she reached for it.
“I have no idea.” Enzo snapped the top bunks upward into the wall so they could sit easily. He wracked his brain. “There’s no way they could’ve known where we were. We weren’t followed, I’m sure of it.”
Suddenly, his burner cell rang.
Enzo dug it out of his pocket. The only person who had this number was Danny. They’d used the burner he’d given Kathleen to call the Callahans. Kathleen stepped closer, her shoulder brushing his arm as if instinctively bracing for impact.
He answered, put it on speaker, and said nothing.
“I thought we had a deal.” Alessandro Vitale’s voice slid down the line, smooth and controlled, anger riding beneath it like a shark in chum-filled waters.
Enzo’s stomach tightened as his heart double-timed against his ribs. How the fuck did he find us? “We do have a deal,” he said, forcing his tone steady. “Why the hell are your people chasing us? People could get hurt.”
A soft exhale. Almost a laugh.
“My people don’t chase anyone unless I tell them to,” Vitale said. “And I don’t tell them unless someone is trying very hard to disappear.”
Kathleen’s fingers curled into Enzo’s sleeve. Her eyes were wide now, fear dark and unblinking. He reached out and squeezed her arm just as something slammed into the couchette door.
The metal shuddered.
Kathleen cried out and grabbed him. Enzo wrapped an arm around her, pulling her tight, his body a shield even though he knew how useless that instinct was against men like Vitale.
“I told you I would find my own way to Mallorca,” Enzo said, keeping his voice level despite the pounding of his pulse. “There are others after the map. They were at the airport when I went to drop Kathleen off. It seemed prudent to choose another airport.”
“Paris,” Vitale repeated, thoughtfully. “Really.” The word stretched, deliberate. “It’s a bit out of the way, don’t you think?”
“Precisely why I picked it,” Enzo snapped. “Call off your men. They’re drawing attention. None of us needs that.”
Silence.
Not the crackling, distracted silence of a bad connection but the kind that made Enzo’s skin crawl. The kind that told him Vitale was deciding something.
Then, softly, “You haven’t asked about Bianca.”
Enzo felt it then, the misstep. The opening he’d handed Vitale without realizing it.
“Aren’t you worried I’ll hurt her?” Vitale continued, almost conversational. “Because you should be.”
Enzo swallowed hard, and a muscle in his jaw popped as he ground his molars. He’d fucked this up. Vitale didn’t bluff. He didn’t posture. If Bianca was leverage, she was already bleeding or worse.
“I am concerned about her,” Enzo said carefully. “I know exactly what you’re capable of. I’m trying to do the right thing by everyone in this equation.” He tightened his hold on Kathleen as he added, “You were the one who saddled me with Kathleen Drake.”
Kathleen stiffened slightly at his words. He squeezed her again, silently apologizing.
Vitale said nothing for a long, agonizing beat. Then, “Careful, Enzo. You don’t get to decide who carries weight and who doesn’t.”
Another pause.
“Be in Mallorca tomorrow,” Vitale said at last, voice flat now, stripped of all warmth. “Or Bianca will regret every minute you spend pretending you still have choices.”
The line went dead.
Enzo lowered the phone slowly. The train roared on, the rhythm of the tracks pounding beneath them like a countdown.
Kathleen looked up at him, her face pale but steady. “He’s not bluffing,” she said.
“No,” Enzo agreed quietly. “He never does.” He ground his teeth. “I hope the Callahans come up with some background. We’re running around in the dark here.” He captured Kathleen’s gaze. “And someone is bound to get dead.”