Chapter Eleven
A COUPLE HOURS later, Ford hefted Blitz in his arms and glanced around the small square in Vieux Nice—Old Nice—where Lehmann had secured them a new safe house. That she’d managed it in the middle of August seemed like a miracle. The woman had more than earned his lifelong gratitude.
The drive over in a newly rented Renault—thanks to Sabine again—had been tense and uncharacteristically silent. Nat had given him plenty of time for self-recrimination. The last time she’d been that quiet she’d been passed out after surgery. This time, Ford was pretty sure it was his fault.
To his surprise, he wouldn’t have minded a few of her flippant or inappropriate comments. Maybe she was onto something with her avoidance strategies because he could use a break from his own thoughts right now.
They stood on the edge of the old town’s pedestrian-only streets—more like alleys, really—a labyrinthine network that connected other plazas like this one.
“Uh, I ordered the old-world charm,” Natalie said in a kind of sarcastic Valley girl lilt as her gaze bounced between the tiny produce market, the green-shuttered buildings painted in shades of the sunset, and the laundry strung across balconies. “It’s like a postcard come to life.”
“It is.” If only they were here for a better reason. He’d give anything to be showing her around this beautiful city for fun. Holding hands as they toured the sites by day…sharing a bed by night.
Jesus. Those thoughts weren’t any more helpful than the ones about how he’d failed Henri.
He sighed and led her toward one of the four-story stucco buildings that formed the square, each with a business on the main floor and living spaces above.
Hoping their actions didn’t attract too much attention, he carried Blitz behind a closed fish stall and through the doorway that Natalie had opened with a code from Lehmann.
Trudging up a narrow, curving staircase, they passed a dance studio with notes about hours and vacation schedules taped to the door.
Had Lehmann known the studio would be closed this month?
Not a doubt in his mind. Her network had to be vast.
On the second landing, he turned down a tight hallway that was so low he could almost feel his hair brushing the ceiling.
The snuffling, twitchy load in his arms made his biceps ache, and as soon as Natalie entered the door code, he strode through the entry hall into the main room.
He laid Blitz on a rug, her back to the sofa, exactly the way she liked it.
Natalie found a bowl and started filling it with water while he went for a quick walk-through of the apartment.
The narrow spiral staircase leading to the third level created a definite choke point. Not great, but nothing he could change. At the top, a small bedroom stood on either side, both with sloped ceilings sporting thick log beams and a skylight.
At least he wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch tonight.
Back downstairs, he returned to the long and narrow main room divided into a kitchen with a small dining table and a living area with a loveseat. Windows stood open at either end, letting in the cross breeze.
The building outside the living room window had green shutters and iron balconies crammed with potted plants, small chairs, and laundry lines. He adjusted the shutters to allow airflow while maintaining privacy. He did the same to the kitchen window, which had a similar view.
On the plus side, no one could jump the distance between buildings.
Looking down to the alley, he found no fire escape or other way for someone to climb up.
If he and Nat couldn’t exit through the front door in an emergency, they were royally fucked.
Other than that fun fact, though, the privacy and inaccessibility to intruders were top notch.
Satisfied with the apartment’s security, he returned to the living room to sit on the floor and stroke Blitz’s soft fur. He could feel Nat hovering behind him, just feet away, yet awkwardness yawned between them like the Grand Canyon.
He always complained—in his head—that she talked too much, pushed too hard, didn’t know when to stop.
But the thought that he was responsible for her extended silence made his chest hurt.
It wasn’t her fault that he practically shorted out when she touched him.
Or that he got even more uptight in her presence.
She made the world better and brighter, and he stalked around like a rain cloud, dousing her flame.
She’d tried to comfort him and he’d pushed her away, too angry at himself to accept her compassion.
Objectively, he knew that perfection was impossible, that anyone could’ve made the same mistake with the tracker on Blitz, but it didn’t help.
Keeping people safe was literally his job.
One he’d feel pretty good at if not for his two spectacular failures.
There was no room for error in his line of work. This week he’d made a huge one, and Henri had paid the price. Thank God he’d survived.
For now.
And Blitz had been spared, but Ford could’ve easily lost her too. He shuddered and dug his fingers into her thick coat, letting her steady breath and the faint thump of her heartbeat soothe his nervous system.
Behind him, a kitchen cabinet squeaked, and then a glass clinked on the counter.
Come on, Blitz. Open your eyes.
Something had to go right today. The dog snuffled and adjusted her head. With a quick pat to her flank, he pushed to his feet. “I need to move the car.”
“Okay.” Natalie stood at the sink, filling a glass with water. She didn’t look his way, probably afraid to poke the bear.
Had he broken her? He frowned.
She took a long drink from the glass and set it on the counter. “I’ll put out dinner.” They’d picked up simple baguette sandwiches and chips from a boulangerie on the way into town.
His stomach growled. “I should be back in less than twenty minutes. If you don’t hear from me in thirty, you know what to do.” He’d bought a second burner phone for her, and programmed in his and Lehmann’s numbers.
“Yep.”
No eye roll, no flippant remark, no cheesy come-on.
Was she treating him with extra care, or punishing him?
Ford sighed and grabbed the car key from the console in the hallway that served double duty as a foyer.
Not wanting to leave her alone any longer than necessary, he hustled to the car, grabbed their bags, and parked it in a nearby lot where someone who worked for Lehmann would pick it up and return it to Marseille.
As directed, after locking the doors, he stuck the key in a magnetic lock box and surreptitiously placed the box inside the wheel well while pretending to tie his shoe.
Vieux Nice looked amazing this close to sunset, its vibrantly painted buildings glowing orange and red in the golden sunlight.
Unfortunately, scanning for threats left him too busy to fully appreciate it.
Natalie would though. Even on alert, she’d take a moment to enjoy the beauty.
For him, watching her reaction might be better than the view.
Everything looked better through her eyes.
He shook his head. Jesus, he’d turned into a goddamned sap. And he couldn’t afford the distraction. His fuckups weren’t her fault, but she was a common denominator in two of them. He didn’t want to examine why.
Focus outward. Shutting off the distracting thoughts, he tried to look nonchalant, like a tourist wandering the winding, narrow lanes looking for his rental.
He wended his way through the tightly packed tables of people dining alfresco that clogged the old roads.
Luckily, the apartment was on the outer edge of the maze, with easy access to the city’s main thoroughfare.
He forced himself to move at a sedate pace along the cobblestone streets, the walk back taking an excruciating ten minutes. Far too much time to ponder how everything could go wrong, how much he’d fucked up.
With relief, he reached the plaza with the now-closed produce market, vacated fish stall, and a convenience store that looked dark and disorganized through its small doorway.
Back inside the small apartment a few minutes later, Blitz met him at the door, and his heart flipped over as he dropped the bags and crouched down to stroke her face.
“Hey, girl.” Her reaction was still subdued, but she shuffled around, licking at his fingers and slowly wagging her bushy tail.
“She got up right after you left.” Natalie stood in the short hall next to the spiral staircase.
He blinked at the sight of her shorter, darker hair, having forgotten about the change for a moment. “Has she had anything to drink yet?” God, how inane. But at least Natalie was talking to him, looking at him.
“A little.”
Keeping his hand on Blitz’s head, he stood, the furry contact keeping his heart rate almost normal. “Okay, good.” For so many reasons, he should’ve left the dog with Katja, but right now he was glad to have her at his side.
Natalie walked slowly toward him. “She’s going to be alright.”
Ford just nodded.
She stopped less than a foot away and held his gaze. This close, he could see the streaks of gold that lent warmth to her blue eyes. He held his breath, not moving. Her proximity raised goosebumps on his skin, and radically diminished his mental capacity.
“Can I…” Her tongue darted out to slick her bottom lip. “Can I hug you?”
“I don’t need a hug,” he said, his gaze still caught on her mouth. “I’m fine.” And yet, almost of their own accord, his arms encircled her.
She relaxed into him with a soft sigh that heated his blood.
Alarms clanged in his head but he ignored them, pressing his palms gently against her upper back, careful not to jar her injured shoulder or crush her sling-bound arm between them.
The floral notes of her shampoo teased his senses, and her body turned warm and pliant in his arms.
“Maybe you don’t,” she said, her voice slightly muffled, “but I do.”