Chapter One #2
In her eyes radiated concern and uncertainty that had paralyzed her.
Still proffering the diaper pack, he silently begged her not to shout or scream.
That look on her face said she had connected the dots and guessed the police were patrolling her street, so he touched the babe’s head.
Hoped it didn’t make him seem like a creeper.
“Merci,” she finally murmured, the thanks lost amid the baby’s wails. Her gaze bounced between him and the police.
“Voilà,” Dillon said as he casually reached around her, depositing the bag inside the foyer. Stepping back, he hated the way she’d tensed and glanced askance at him, as if he were the criminal the authorities thought.
She wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t have to like it. In fact, he hated it. But this mission was necessary. When he noticed the wash of blue vanish from the walls, he retreated to the narrow sidewalk. “Bonne nuit.”
Her reciprocal “good night”—which sounded uncertain but relieved—scampered after him as he headed in the direction the cops had taken, wagering they wouldn’t backtrack.
At least this way, he’d be behind them, able to eyeball and anticipate their direction.
But when he hit the main road, the blue lights were gone.
Donning his jacket again, he switched the baseball cap for the warm beanie, hunched into the jacket, and continued down the street.
After another twenty minutes passed without incident, he spotted a flat-topped roof and scaled up to it, the surface still warm from the long-gone sun.
He lowered himself against a chimney, folded his arms over his chest, and burrowed into the corner.
Tilting his head back, he grunted at the smudge of black overhead, wishing for the canvas of stars.
But in even that he was defeated, thanks to the City of Light’s ever-present illumination.
Elbows on his knees, he hooked his hands over his head and scratched his shorn hair.
Man, he’d screwed up tonight. He’d been so close to Galtieri.
Took a risk he shouldn’t have. While he’d gotten away, it’d been close.
Too close. Cost him time. Maybe got his face on some feeds.
Now the Ritz would be on alert tomorrow night for Galtieri’s dinner party.
Gut rumbling with hunger, he felt his ribs poking out.
Being on the lam didn’t make for fattened calves or a full stomach.
Clenching his jaw, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
His gut grumbled again, hunger gnawing at his insides.
In the morning, he’d grab something to tide him over.
How much did he have left? He reached in his pocket for his money…
and faltered when he felt only the fabric lining.
His heart skipped a beat, but maybe he’d put it in the other pocket. He checked. Nothing. Empty.
No no no.
It wasn’t just the money that had taken a week of tourist trolling to accrue. It was the device. The one Helios had sent so Dillon could pair with Galtieri’s phone.
“Augh!” Dillon smacked his head back against the chimney. Again. Again. He jabbed the heels of his hands into his eyes as he growled his frustration. Without the device, being here in Paris—which had taken him weeks to effect—was pointless. A waste of time and resources.
But Galtieri was here. If he didn’t figure something out, the billionaire connected to—responsible for—Dad’s disappearance would leave the city. No guaranteeing he’d go back to his Italian villa, but even if he did, it’d take weeks or months before another opportunity presented itself.
Frustration soaked his muscles, making them heavy, aching.
Like his soul. Now he had to find more money.
Republic Square was the place to do that.
If he could get money, maybe he’d be able to reach Helios in time.
But the chances he could get another device before tomorrow night were pretty much nil.
God, I need a break. With the way things were going, he should add a qualifier. And just so we’re crystal, not a limb.