Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
If he didn’t stop staring at her out of the corner of his eye, he’d draw attention to them.
But for the life of him, he couldn’t help it.
Her new look drove him wild. He glanced at the clock above the train terminal.
Any minute and they’d be on their way out of Switzerland.
She wore his old baseball cap over her long, dark hair and had traded the sweatshirt in for a long-sleeved heather-blue shirt and light-wash jeans that sculpted her supple thighs and ass.
She’d been a stunning blonde, and she’d never, not once in their history together, dyed her hair.
It was likely just shock that kept dragging his eyes to the so familiar yet now so different woman he’d been in love with.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“About?”
“The tracking device.” She tipped her head toward him, and he lowered his ear closer to her mouth. “When I escaped out the window, I left my phone. I went back for it and the . . . object, and I found my phone on the floor. They probably knew I’d be back and planted it so they could find me.”
“Yeah, I bet that’s exactly what happened.”
She mumbled a curse. It sounded foreign on her delicate breath. “I wish I’d thought to check. God, I feel dumb.”
He settled his hand on her shoulder and gave her a shake. Only her profile was visible, but the crimson hue to her ear hinted that she was pissed at herself.
“Don’t do that. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and why the hell would it have crossed your mind to check for a tracking device, especially in that critical moment? You’re alive because you outsmarted them.”
She patted his fingers. “Thanks.”
He gave her a squeeze and lowered his hand.
He’d meant every word. Had anyone else been in that apartment instead of her—himself included—they’d probably be dead.
Dani kept her nose in a travel book, but she never shifted more than an inch away from his body.
She was doing a damn good job of not drawing attention to her face, but there was no way in hell the other men on the platform weren’t checking her out.
Maybe she should have stayed disguised as a man.
He scanned the faces around them. Every rustle or chirp of a phone called his attention. A horn blasted and Dani jumped as if a gun had gone off. He rested his palm on her back and her stiff spine returned to its natural position.
Hard steel sat at the small of his back.
European train stations had the worst security he’d ever witnessed—not a single metal detector.
And only the odd police officer strolled through the station.
Although it was a good thing they hadn’t had to ditch their weapons, anyone who was after them would get through just as easily.
Dani hadn’t been comfortable carrying her gun, so he’d rolled it into a shirt and placed it in his carry-on bag.
The train whooshed to a stop in front of them, blowing hot air over his skin.
Like cattle, everyone on the platform moved onto the vessel.
Dani walked ahead of him, but he stayed within reach.
One row of single seats lined each side of the train.
She stopped at one with a vacant seat across the aisle and sat down.
He scooted into the seat directly across from her.
“How long is this one again?” she asked.
“Two and a half hours till our next stop in Zurich. Sleep if you can.”
She snorted. “Yeah right.”
“It’ll be another five hours after that before we get to France.
” He watched as the rest of the train filled.
Dani flipped open her book until everyone was in their seats and the train pulled out of the station.
White-capped mountains lay beyond the windows.
The view was beautiful, but fatigue weighed down his eyelids as the train jostled along the tracks.
No way could he risk falling asleep. He reached into the bag at his feet and pulled out Sven’s phone.
Their plan was to search Sven’s apartment to find some indication of who’d hired him.
Odds were the company or individuals had already searched it and confiscated his belongings.
Regardless, he and Dani needed to get out of Switzerland, and being in the same city as the organization that wanted Chrisolicom XII would be the best way to unravel this fucking mess.
He fired up Sven’s phone and checked his Gmail account. An hour later, Brock was ready to throw the fucking thing off the train. Nothing. How had he been so damn careful? He glanced at Dani. Her head lolled to the side, the travel book facedown in her lap.
He rubbed the heel of his palm on his forehead.
A tension headache that had started at his nape pulsed behind his eyes.
He massaged his neck and stared at the ceiling.
There had to be something he wasn’t seeing, something he was overlooking.
Sven was too big a player in this game to assume he’d been a pawn.
He scanned the heads of the passengers for the dozenth time.
The familiar blue Facebook icon lit the screen in the hand of the passenger in front of Dani.
Lifting Sven’s phone, Brock touched the Facebook app.
Like most people, Sven had stayed logged in.
He spent the next half hour flipping through pictures and stalking Sven’s friends’ profiles.
A stunning picture of the Swiss Alps towering over a golf course made him stop scrolling.
Sven stood in the center of the green with three other men.
Two wore visors and the other man and Sven wore baseball hats, obscuring their features.
He looked at the date. The picture had been snapped four months ago.
He zoomed in on Sven’s neck—no sign of the tattoo.
He shifted his attention to the other men’s collars. Nothing.
He pushed a sigh through his teeth. For fuck’s sake.
He was about to track his thumb across the screen to move to the next picture, but a tiny flash of black caught his eye.
He stopped and narrowed his gaze on the dude to Sven’s left.
On the man’s bicep, the curled tips of the bottom of a pentagon were unmistakable.
Sonofabitch.
He unbuckled his seatbelt, crouched next to Dani, and cupped his hand over her wrist to shake her. Soft snores breezed through her lips and he stopped. He gripped Sven’s phone more tightly and stood. This was important, but it could wait. He wouldn’t wake her.
“Brock?”
Regret clawed at his insides. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She rubbed her eyes with her palms and then groaned. “Ugh. I forgot I’m wearing makeup.” She sat forward and wiped her fingertips beneath her lids, where her mascara had smeared. “What’s up?”
He returned to his position on the floor and glanced at the passengers around them. Two were asleep, the others had their faces buried in books or devices.
“Remember the tattoo we talked about?”
She pursed her lips and lifted her gaze. “Oh, yeah. Sven’s?”
So much for discretion. “Yeah, let’s keep it down though.”
She grimaced. “Sorry, my brain doesn’t work right after I’ve been asleep. You should know that,” she said with a chuckle.
The reference to the soft, silly moments of their past made his heart swell. He’d always teased her for being a sleepy mouse for damn near an hour after waking up.
“What about it?”
He forced the image of the tousled blonde hair and sleepy aqua eyes that he’d once cherished waking up to every morning from his mind and coughed until the thickness in his throat moved.
“I think it’s gang or cult related. Look at this.” He held the device below the window and low enough that nosy passengers wouldn’t see. “Right here.” He pointed to the guy’s arm.
She took the phone, zoomed in on the image, and stared at it for several moments. “I don’t see one on . . . him though.”
“This photo was taken four months ago. So he would have gotten the ink between the time of the photo and the time he called you to come to Geneva.”
She scrunched her face. “I’m not sure that’s anything concrete. I mean, I can see the connection, but we didn’t see all of his tattoo, and this guy’s is half hidden as well. How can we be sure it’s the same?”
“I saw his.” He stretched across the aisle, pulled a pen from his bag, then took the book from her lap. “Mind?”
She shook her head. He found a blank spot on one of the pages and, propping the book on her lap for a somewhat steady surface, began to sketch the tattoo from memory.
“The little bit of his tattoo that showed creeped me out enough to peel down his collar and look.” He drew the pentagon first, then the animal head, then added the curls to the tips of the star.
Dani’s breath hissed through her mouth. “What is that?”
“I have no fucking clue,” he said.
She swallowed hard. “We need to find out. I mean, if it’s any kind of organization, it has to be documented somewhere.”
He clicked the pen and scoffed. “Any ideas?”
She tapped her chin. “I think I know who we can call.”
“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Brock said, his tone whiny. Dani took a huge bite of the salad she’d grabbed at the Zurich train station. They had a forty-minute layover. She couldn’t remember what the next stop was, but they had three before they reached Paris.
“If Milo trusts him, we can too.”
Brock clicked his jaw and she shoved another bite of salad into her mouth. “I’ll call him.”
Looking affronted, he clapped his hand over his phone on the table. “I can do it. Milo texted me his number the other day. You eat.”
He stood and paced to a less crowded area of the food court. Unable to stand the suspense, Dani looped her bag across her chest, tucked her water bottle under her arm, and carried her salad to stand next to him.