He didn’t blame the insurgents for what they’d done to him.

  How could he blame dead men?

  He blamed Renee—and he was determined to see the captain suffer before he spent some time with John, showing him some of the tricks he’d picked up in the sweltering heat of a torturer’s favorite chamber.

  Renee was in for an object lesson in agony.

  But first things first.

  He pulled his weapon from his hip, double-checking. And then he began to move, hastening down the hall. Five minutes he’d given himself. And this time, he refused to be caught unawares.

  Adele Sharp was an agent. She’d had a weapon.

  But this target?

  Harmless as they came.

  He smirked, moving faster, feeling the pain subside as the adrenaline took over once more. The drugs rarely helped, but this sort of thing? He could get used to this… In fact, once he was finished with John, there were so many other possibilities available.

  He grinned widely as he moved rapidly.

  And that’s when the door opened.

  A faint moan of a hinges. A creak of wood. And then a child appeared in the doorway.

  He froze. The child stared.

  She looked like her father. Looked just like Renee. But why the hell was she in the middle room? He’d spotted the girl’s bed through the window before. He wasn’t here for the girl, though.

  He was here for the mother. Another one of John’s lovers.

  Now, though, he was in something of a pickle. He tilted his head, staring at the child. Her eyes were wide, and she breathed in shallow puffs. He held a finger slowly to his lips.

  It wasn’t like he cared if the child lived. He’d intended to take out everyone Renee loved. He’d just been hoping to do it one at a time.

  Perhaps the girl was a volunteer?

  He’d read vaguely, somewhere, that another killer had once tried to take this little girl. Perhaps that was why she reacted the way she did.

  Instead of screaming, instead of freezing. She stiffened briefly, but then moved.

  She didn’t try to run though. No, she flung something at him. Something she’d been holding in her hand. He raised an arm instinctively. But then a small pouch burst on his skin. Dust got in his eyes.

  And instantly, pain followed.

  He tried to fire, but the sound of small feet scampering for safety alerted him that he’d missed. He couldn’t see… He growled, blinking horribly, tears streaming, snot forming. The pain was immense. He recognized what it was, of course. Pepper balls. Powdered pepper spray.

  He should’ve expected safety precautions. Especially from Renee’s daughter. He didn’t doubt that John, through his contacts, was the one who’d gotten his hand on this stuff.

  And now, by proxy, Renee was putting him through another bout of sheer agony.

  He almost dropped his weapon. How embarrassing would that have been? He suffered in silence, though. The silencer on his pistol had muted the two gunshots. The sound of the girl’s retreating footsteps had faded. Either she was hiding, or the ringing in his ears from the pain was obscuring any noise she made.

  He wiped desperately at his face. Where was the damn bathroom? Where?

  He couldn’t remember the layout. The pain was too intense. He remembered similar sensations back in his hellhole. Remembered how often he’d pleaded for them to just end it. He held back a shriek, held back any sounds.

  He was accustomed to pain. He was determined to see this job through. He wouldn’t fail again. He refused.

  With thumping footsteps, far louder than he might have liked, he stumbled down the hall, blinking tears, unable to see, wiping at his face. He moved in the direction of the mother’s bedroom.

  Moved with his gun gripped tightly in one hand. He was going to see this through.

  One way or another, he was going to take something from John that could never be given back.

  It didn’t matter if his eyes stung.

  If he had to, he’d murder her blind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Adele blinked in the sunlight as she stepped through the sliding doors at the hospital. The small bottle of pills rattled in the white paper bag she had at her side. She was still determined not to take them. Now, though, wincing, she moved slowly, a hand occasionally darting to check on the bandage beneath her shirt.

  Most of the stitches had survived the altercation with Vernier. But some had ripped. The doctor had been none too pleased.

  Which was nothing compared to what Adele had felt when he’d threatened to revoke his permission for duty unless she took better care of herself.

  The look on Agent Renee’s face didn’t help her sour mood.

  John reclined on a bench outside the hospital doors, watching her. “Hi there, American Princess,” he said.

  “Not in the mood, John.”

  He beamed. “Good thing I have mood enough for two.” He patted the seat next to him.

  She approached but didn’t sit down. It was nice to have treatment in the same hospital as the woman she’d rescued. Adele had even taken a moment to visit. “She’s going to recover,” she said as she approached Renee. “Full recovery. They’re even letting her keep the bracelet. She said it’s hers, but Vernier said she was lying. Guess they’re not going with the word of a murderer.”

  “Good to hear,” John said. “Vernier admitted to everything, by the way. Got the call an hour ago. He said it was your fault he tried to kill everyone. But… I think he thought you were his girlfriend.” John’s brow furrowed in confusion.

  She snorted. “He was blaming everyone.”

  “What did the doctor say?” Renee asked in the tone of someone who’d already guessed.

  “Not much. He wasn’t happy. Say, why are you so chipper?” Adele muttered.

  “Because Foucault says you have to rest another week.”

  “Says? What, like no cases?”

  John nodded, beaming. “Rest. Sleep. Recover. You nearly killed yourself, Adele,” he added and his smile slipped.

  She sighed, running a hand through her hair.

  Technically, John wasn’t wrong. But there was a drastic difference between a few stitches and being flattened by a train. The second one hadn’t been her fault.

  “You’ve made your point,” Adele said in a gentle tone. “Can we go now? I promise to be a good girl and not chase any more bad guys through underground tunnels.”

  John snorted. “Nice promise.” He pushed to his feet, extending a large arm, which she took, looping hers through it.

  Arm in arm, the two of them moved slowly back toward the multi-level parking structure. Adele liked the way it felt, his arm in hers. She looked up at her partner and flashed a smile. He looked back at her, but he didn’t share her expression.

  In fact, John was frowning.

  “What’s wrong?” she said.

  He shook his head, his brow still furrowed. “I don’t want to drive you back to your place,” he said quietly.

  She stared at him.

  “It isn’t safe, Adele. We both know it isn’t…” They passed around a white security barrier, walking toward where John had parked over two handicapped spots. At least some things never changed.

  “I get it,” Adele murmured, as she approached the vehicle. John paused, staring at her over the roof of the car. “I really do,” she said. “But that apartment is my home. I’ll be fine.”

  John shook his head. “Foucault won’t give you a bodyguard forever,” he insisted. “What then?”

  Adele shrugged. “We’ll cross the bridge when—”

  “We’ve already come to it. I’m telling you, Adele,” John said, his voice firm all of a sudden. “I don’t want you living there.”

  She glared back at him, resting her small paper bag of painkillers on the top of the sedan. “Is that a threat?”

  “It’s an offer,” he replied. He shifted uncomfortably now, clicking the locks a couple of times, though he’d already opened them. The headlights flashed, the locks beeped. But John looked scared now. More scared than she’d ever seen him before.

  “What is it?” she said. “John… John, are you alright?”

  He gave a shaking little sigh. “I… I’ve been thinking. Long and hard.”

  “Good for you,” she said. “I know it doesn’t come naturally.” She flashed a grin to show she was joking.

  But rather than rising to the bait and cutting back with repartee of his own, John just said, “I… I think…”

  He looked at her, his eyes flashing. Then the words came out all at once, jumbled. “I want you to move in with me.” He nodded firmly the moment he’d finished, crossing his arms in defiance as if daring her to tease him over this.

  But the last thing on her mind was teasing John. Adele just stared. “I… move in? What? Like… like to live?”

  “No, Adele, I’m asking you to bust a move and get jiggy with it. Yes! Like to live. I have a house.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “You’ve seen it.”

  “I have seen your house, John.”

  “Well,” he said, waving his hands.

  She sighed. “It’s a bit more complicated than knowing you have a house. And seeing it. There’s more involved.”

  He snorted, slamming a hand against the roof of the car. “What more?” he demanded. “You’re not safe at your place… And I… I…” He muttered something beneath his breath.

  “What was that?” Adele asked, leaning in.

  He muttered it again, but the handsome Frenchman’s cheeks were now turning red.

  Adele beamed, enjoying the moment immensely, despite the sudden sense of unease in her stomach.

  John sighed, and then, loud enough for her to hear, but no one else who might have been eavesdropping, he said, “I care about you.”

  Adele pointed at him. “Ha!” she exclaimed. “I knew it!”

  He glared. “I’ve said it before, dammit.”

  “You love me!” Adele replied. She winced, lowering her arm just as quickly. “You want to kiss me. John Renee loves me.”

  He glared at her and stomped around the car. He leaned in now, his tall frame twice as wide as hers. His eyes peered down, meeting hers, flashing with something just on the other side of anger. “So what if I do, Agent Sharp?”

  Her smile softened. Her eyes held his. She nodded once. “I care for you too, John. I really do. I’m not trying to hurt you. I just… just…” She let out a frustrated sigh.

  It stopped, though, as he leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek. He didn’t quite kiss her, rather, his lips hovered near hers, brushing past her nose, along her upper lip. Then he said, “What do you say? Will you?”

  She swallowed, her throat dry all of a sudden. Another reason she liked being with John: things never got too familiar to become stale. He was often unpredictable in such things. And while this caused headaches, it also came with perks.

  “I,” she murmured, “I want to. I just… I need to think about it.”

  He pulled away without kissing her. He nodded once. “Fine,” he said. “Think. But as long as you stay at that apartment, you’re putting yourself in danger. I’ll tell you what,” he added. “If you stay there, you ain’t gettin’ none of this.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Are you threatening a sex strike?” she asked.

  John snorted. “Don’t test me, Sharp. I’m a desperate man.” He looked away now, moving back around the car and running a hand through his hair.

  Adele watched him move, her emotions at odds. She knew she wanted to make John happy. Wanted him to feel that she was safe. But she also didn’t want to give up her mother’s apartment.

  Her apartment.

  It was all she really had left of Elise Romei. All she really had left of her past in Paris.

  It was true that she’d been attacked at that place, though. True, also, that John had more than enough space.

  She hesitated, slipping into the passenger seat next to John. As they buckled, she said, “So what… what are we thinking exactly? Same room? Separate rooms?”

  “I sleep on the couch,” John said.

  “Of course you do.”

  “I mean… I can move it into the same room if you want.”

  “John, you snore. I don’t know how to tell you that nicely.”

  John grinned. He looked at her. “You snore too. It was the biggest consideration before I made the offer.”

  She stared at him, scandalized, as he began to reverse out of the parking spot. “I do not snore,” she said.

  “Like a hog. Like a chainsaw through a log.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “Sure it does,” John said. “I’ll record you next time. I’ll prove it.”

  She crossed her arms angrily. “I do not snore.”

  “So… does that mean you’re considering it?”

  She shot him a look. “Do I snore?”

  He blinked. “Ah… hand to God, never heard a peep from you while sleeping. You’re as quiet as wind through a bunny rabbit’s fur.”

  “There we go,” she said with a laugh.

  As they backed out of the parking lot, jarring over a speed bump, the small bag of painkillers she’d accidentally left on the roof tumbled off and hit the ground. She winced, but didn’t protest. She hadn’t been expecting to take them anyway.

  Those things muddled her thoughts. And she needed to think clearly if she was going to make a reasonable decision.

  It wouldn’t be so bad, moving out of her place to go live with John, would it? They’d spent nights in hotels before. But it wasn’t the same thing. Not really. Life was stressful enough… She still had that interview with Foucault about the shooting. With the case solved, he’d be expecting an appointment any day.

  She sighed as Renee began navigating up the street, moving away from the hospital and back in the direction of her apartment.

  Hers. That was it. It was her apartment.

  Interviews with Foucault aside, she didn’t know if she could give that up. Not even for John.

  ***

  She didn’t mind having John around the place. And he didn’t seem as if he wanted her to be on her own for even a second. She was doing her best to take this in her stride.

  Now, though, curled up on the couch next to each other, she was deeply regretting her choice to let John pick the movie for the night.

  “Is that…” She stared at the screen. “Is that a booger?”

  “Hush,” Renee whispered back. “It’s an alien.”

  “It looks like a booger.”

  “It’s not a booger, Adele. It’s going to eat that man’s face. Ha! See!”

  “I see a booger giving an astronaut a hug.”

  John shushed her again, leaning forward in excitement as he stared at the television. At least the popcorn bowl between them wasn’t stale or reheated this time. The faint scent of salty butter lingered on the air inside her apartment.

  Adele was trying her best to watch the movie. The horrible, awful, never again in a million years movie.

  But she was distracted. In this case, it was something of a mercy.

  As she looked around, studying her home, she felt a lump in her throat. She shifted next to Renee, the warmth of his body sweaty against her knee. She shifted, creating a bit of distance between the two of them. Her eyes moved from the large floor-to-ceiling window. She could remember, nearly two decades ago, when she’d first laid eyes on it.

  Her mother had rented this place. It had been Adele’s second home away from Germany…

  Until everything changed.

  She remembered how Elise and Adele had so often sat on a similar couch, though far cheaper and lumpier at the time. The two of them had stared out the large window, watching Paris go about its day. Oftentimes, they would pick out boats on the river, making a competition of guessing which boat passed under a bridge first.

  The kitchen had been nearly identical too, minus the microwave. She wondered if her mother would have been proud.

  Adele felt a lump in her throat, but no matter how much she swallowed, it didn’t go away.

  She shifted uncomfortably, exhaling faintly.

  Could she really give this all up?

  Tears formed in her eyes. More memories played across her mind. She thought of story times, game nights. Laughter. Anger. Arguments. And everything in between. John’s arm slipped over her shoulder, absentmindedly. As if he hadn’t even noticed her pull away.

  He gave a little hug, pulling her back the couple of inches. Her knee was still sweaty. She still wanted some space…

  Was that such a bad thing?

  She closed her eyes, wondering what Robert would say. But of course, she couldn’t ask him either. She missed thinking of the world in terms of adults and children. Missed being able to go find someone for advice. For wisdom.

  But now… she was the adult.

  John was.

  God help them.

  There were no secret recipes for a successful life. No hidden words to mutter in incantation to avoid suffering and cling to happiness. In fact, in Adele’s experience, happiness was a byproduct. Not a goal.

  This wasn’t the first time a man had asked her to move in. Robert Henry, her old mentor, had let her live at his place more than once. A home away from home away from home…

  She’d had many places to call her home. None of them had really felt like it. Especially after her mother’s passing.

  That was in the past, now, though. She couldn’t live there. Couldn’t linger.

  She swallowed again, pretending she’d gotten a piece of popcorn stuck and taking a quick sip from the glass of water on the small table at her side.

  John shouted at the TV screen. “Run! Run! Haha, idiot! He’s going to eat you too!”

  She held back a snort of laughter. Tears in her eyes, laughter on her lips… And everything in between.

  Was this what she wanted?

  She remembered when she’d first left Paris to move to California. Remembered how Robert Henry had emailed her. He’d missed her. If she could do it over again, she never would have left. She knew that now.

 

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