Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Brock rubbed his hands on the steering wheel as they sat in Jardin Anglais park overlooking Lake Geneva.
“You can’t be serious,” Dani said. “How can you tell who’s a tourist?”
He tapped his thumbs on the bottom of the wheel. “So little faith,” he murmured, watching couples strolling in the park. The sun split open the early afternoon sky and the temperature had risen to its highest degree since he landed.
Dani huffed. Even with every supple curve of her upper body buried in material and her hair hidden underneath his hat, she still turned him on. Maybe it was her temper—or the fact that no disguise could wipe the memory of her smoking-hot body from his head.
“You’ll get arrested.”
He turned to glare at her. “Really? I’ve been stealing for over twenty years, sweetheart. I think I can pick a pocket for god’s sake.”
“You’re not picking a pocket for a wallet. You’re swiping a passport. When was the last time you did that? And I sure hope you haven’t picked an innocent citizen’s pocket recently. That’s a new low.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Well, considering we’re going to Sven’s place in France and we’re traveling within the Schengen zone, we don’t need a passport.”
“That’s if we don’t get stopped. Authorities are looking for a terrorist—you don’t think they’ll ask for passports from anyone who fits your description?”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I am. Stealing a passport will be a cinch. Watch and learn.”
She flicked her hand to shoo him out of the car. “Go ahead. At least it will be amusing to watch.”
He caught her fingers in his hand and tilted his head back on a chuckle. “Oh great. Now I’ll have to keep a straight face knowing you’re sitting here laughing your ass off.”
She flashed him a smile, and a dimple clefted the corner of her mouth. He used to love kissing that dimple. “At least you won’t be able to hear me from way over there.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and bit back another grin.
If he failed at stealing a passport for her, at least he’d succeed at making her smile.
“The hardest part is we’ll need one for each of us.
Hopefully we can get out of the country before they find out my identity and make the connection between us, but we won’t have long, given the library incident.
” He nodded at the keys in the ignition.
“Keep a lookout. If you see anyone suspicious, get the hell out of here and head to the parkade if possible.”
She nodded. He opened the car door and stepped out, but a tug on his shirt pulled him back to face her.
“Brock . . . be careful.”
He clapped his hand over hers and ignored the terror darkening her irises. If he stared too long, he’d get sucked in and there’d be no way in hell he’d leave her to get the document they needed.
The shimmer of a tear at the corner of her eye undid him. He reached across the seat and swiped it away with his thumb. She sniffed and rubbed the tip of her reddening nose with her knuckle.
“I’m fine.” Her lip trembled and he breathed a curse.
He couldn’t not comfort her. Couldn’t not try to take away even a fraction of her pain. He circled his fingers over her jaw, stopping at her chin. She tried to duck to avoid his eye contact, but he held fast.
“Hey, this will all be over soon. I promise.”
She sniffed again. “Yeah, and it might end with both of us in the ground.”
He bit his tongue. He couldn’t deny that the same fear coursed through him.
Not so much for himself. Nah, he’d face whatever fate he had coming.
But Dani . . . He couldn’t, wouldn’t, let anyone harm a hair on her head.
The memory of her kidnapping kicked him in the gut.
Until that moment he’d thought he’d seen every emotion on her face: rage, humiliation, hate, hunger, love.
Every damn one. But the day he’d seen the video call of the kidnapper beating her, his heart had ripped through his chest. The Dani he’d loved and grown up with had been broken, and in her place was a terrified, bloodied woman he’d barely recognized.
“What are you thinking?”
He refocused his gaze on her face and shook his head.
He couldn’t bring it up. “Just that I would never let anyone hurt you. Trust me, okay?” He leaned forward until his lips hovered an inch from hers.
“I know you said to keep our distance, but if I’m about to die like you believe, can you send me with a good memory? ”
Her laugh split the silence of the car and she shoved at his chest. “Oh, please. You’re not going to war.”
He caught her hand, which still lingered on his pec, and kissed her palm. “No.” A beat passed, and he tried to suck back the words dangling on his tongue, but the defiant muscle let them slide. “But for you I would.” He dropped her hand and exited the car.
He didn’t dare look back.
Dani watched as Brock jogged up to a middle-aged couple taking a selfie with the lake at their backs.
No, no, no!
She bit down on her lip. The woman had dark hair and was easily ten years older than she was.
If she tried to use that woman’s passport, she’d end up in jail before they got out of the country.
He accepted their phone, snapped a picture, and returned it to the gentleman.
She narrowed her eyes. Had it just been a kind deed?
Sure didn’t look like he’d stolen anything.
He continued down the path toward the lake, stopped at the rocks on the shore, and pulled out his own phone to take a selfie.
She rolled her eyes. He couldn’t be serious.
Another couple approached him and he smiled jovially, pointed at the lake, and said something to them. He stepped closer to the dark-haired woman, who wore a purse across her shoulder. Dani tracked his hand movements. His right arm hovered at his side, hidden between their bodies.
Brock accepted the man’s cell phone and motioned for them to back up.
After a few snaps, he got close to the woman’s side again and showed them the screen.
Then Brock gave them his phone and they returned the favor.
From her angle, Dani couldn’t see if he’d obtained anything.
She leaned closer to the window as they handed back his phone.
His right elbow moved at his hip. Ah-ha.
She stared while that hand crept up and then pointed at the mountains.
To anyone else, nothing would be amiss, but she’d bet her last dollar he’d just grabbed the woman’s passport.
He hadn’t gotten close enough to the man, though.
He walked farther down the sidewalk and said something to a guy with his young family.
Several minutes later, Brock strode toward their vehicle, his hands shoved in his front pockets, his head down.
She sat forward in her seat as he slid in next to her.
He shut the door, turned the key in the ignition, and pulled away.
“Well?”
He sat erect, his hand looped over the top of the steering wheel. Rather than answer her, he checked the rearview mirror. She pinched his bicep. He yelped and shook his arm.
“Ouch, dammit. Yes, I’ve got them.” He lifted his right ass cheek, reached into his pocket, and slapped two passports in her hand. “Take a look. There’s no exchange policy so you’d better be happy with them.”
She flipped open the first book. “Darren Porter?” She scanned Brock’s body. He didn’t look like a Darren. She opened the other book.
“Mildred Anderson?”
Brock’s laugh filled the vehicle. “I didn’t know her name, I swear.” His shoulders shook and he rubbed his mouth with his knuckle.
“Great. I have the name of an eighty-year-old.”
He dropped his hand to her thigh and squeezed it. “How about I call you Millie?”
A chuckle tickled her throat. “Shut up.”
“You’re the cutest Mildred I’ve ever met.” He retracted his hand, but his words stayed behind, curling around her heart.
“Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.” She tucked the passports in her bag and shuffled further back in her seat. “Now what?”
“We’ve got one more thing to do.” He pulled into the parking lot of a pharmacy. “Wait here.” He disappeared inside and returned with a small bag.
“What’s that?”
“Your new look.”
She opened the bag and her stomach jumped. She shouldn’t care. It was only hair, after all. But she had virgin blonde hair. Dying it would suck. Among the hair dye was a ton of makeup in various shades.
“I didn’t know what kind of makeup to get, so I got a little of everything.
I know it’s not much of a disguise, but hopefully it will make a difference.
And don’t worry. When all this is over you can get your natural color back,” he said with a wink.
She didn’t bother explaining to him that one couldn’t just “get” their natural hair color back. Such a guy thing to assume.
Once in their room at the cheap motel Brock had checked them into, Dani carefully laid the bag’s contents on the vanity in the bathroom.
She started on her hair, sloshing the inky dye on her roots and working it through the strands all the way to the end.
The harsh smell of chemicals burned her nose and made her eyes water.
Twenty minutes later, she scrubbed out the dye with the travel-sized shampoo and conditioner Brock had selected.
Grabbing a towel, she squeezed the strands until the excess moisture was gone. Then taking a deep breath, she shook out her hair and faced the mirror.
Holy shit. She gulped, fingered the tresses, and then dropped them as if she’d been burned. At least now she looked more like Mildred in the passport photo.
It’s just hair, relax.
Needing a distraction from the shock, she worked on her makeup.
She had to pencil in darker eyebrows since her dirty-blonde ones looked ridiculous against the nearly ebony locks.
She picked up the contouring kit and snorted.
As if. She was so not venturing into that district right now.
Using the regular powder foundation, she worked it over her skin and then selected neutral eyeshadow and black mascara.
Finally, she grabbed the hair dryer and fluffed out the strands.
Without a hair straightener, her hair had more volume and bounce than usual, but the effect of her new look was . . . exotic.
She swallowed, gripped the door handle, and stepped out of the bathroom.
Brock’s long form was stretched out on the bed. He was watching TV, his arms folded behind his head and his ankles crossed. His gaze swept to her casually, as if he’d forgotten she’d been in the bathroom for the last hour giving herself a makeover.
His jaw unhinged and slowly, he sat up. His eyes moved over her face, to her hair, then to her eyes. He stood, took three strides, and stopped in front of her.
“Holy shit.”
Heat swarmed up her chest and her cheeks tingled with fire. She twisted her fingers in front of her abdomen. This was stupid, being on display in front of him, fearful of his opinion. When had she become so hung up on what he thought of her appearance?
“You’re gorgeous.” He took another step, closing the distance between them. He reached out and caught a piece of her hair, tugging it. “Jesus.” His knuckle moved to her neutral-toned bottom lip, and he touched the corner of her mouth.
She moved her lips to one side. “I’m not sure if I should be happy or insulted that you like the fact that I look so different.” She compressed her embrace around her breasts and rocked onto the sides of her feet.
He didn’t laugh. His gaze darkened and he rolled his jaw. “It’s not that you look so different. You’re still you. Still sexy as ever, still gorgeous.”
A tremble overtook her body, and she swept her tongue over her bottom lip.
His gaze dropped to the movement and his hands curled into fists at his side.
Her fingers throbbed to reach out and grab his face, to wrap her legs around his waist and lose herself in the words he’d just said.
A dark stain tinted his cheeks and her heartbeat roared in her eardrums. An animalistic glint shone in his eyes, as though he were a predator about to pin his prey.
Her loins clenched and the lips between her legs throbbed.
God, she needed him. Now.
He clicked his tongue and ran his palm over his face. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He took a step back and turned away from her, breaking the static electricity that arced between their bodies. “We’d better get on the train before those passports are reported stolen.”