Nikolett hoped they got out before anything bad happened. She hoped they paid their bill, too.
“We’re going to intercept,”Grigoris said in her ear.“Stay with the knights.”
Nikolett swallowed hard, desperately wishing it was one of her own people carrying her through nondescript, narrow white hallways.
A moment later, they pushed through an exit door into a garden courtyard sheltered on two sides by the walls of the hotel, a third the wall of the building next door. The fourth was a brick and wrought iron fence, tall enough to hide the street on the other side, the vines laced through the iron giving complete privacy.
The brick patio was dotted with tables and chairs, a few ashtrays resting on each. The space had a casual, almost-forgotten feel. Most likely a staff break area, though the lush walls of greenery gave it an intimate, private feeling.
“We’re outside,” Nikolett said, wanting Grigoris to know where she was. She wanted to trust the French knights, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to put her full faith in them.
“That’s the plan. Best option for either retreat into the building or going to a safehouse.”Grigoris’ breathing was heavy, like he was running.“Don’t worry, Iacob is coming to intercept them. We won’t leave you, Nikolett.”
Her eyes welled at her friend’s words.
“If it’s bad, we will take you to our admiral’s house,” Remi murmured as the Knight #2 did a sweep.
“Can you put me down?”
Reluctantly, he lowered her to her feet but hovered beside her, ready to scoop her up. The second knight finished the perimeter check of the small garden, one hand to his ear.
There was a burst of noise in her earpiece—raised voices and what sounded like something heavy hitting metal.
“Grigoris!” Nikolett’s heart fell into her shoes. “Grigoris, you can’t die.”
Both knights had stiffened also. Knight #2 jumped onto the low brick wall that made up the lower half of the fence, peering over the greenery. He looked right, then left. He froze, gaze fixed on something.
“It’s her man,” he said in French, Nikolett’s own command of the language good enough for her to understand that much. “And…oh shit. Right behind him.”
“And who?” Nikolett demanded in the same language. “Who’s behind him?”
There was a gate in the fence, the lack of brick the only indication the gate was there, since it too was laced through with vines like the rest of the fence.
The knight on the wall jumped down, ran to the gate, flipped the latch, and then…stopped. He didn’t lock or barricade it. He hesitated.
Both French knights were distressingly immobile. Nikolett started backing toward the door into the hotel, limping with every other step.
“Let Iacob in,” Nikolett demanded. “Then shut the gate behind him.”
Remi slowly turned to her, one hand on his ear. “We’re waiting on orders from our admiral.”
Nikolett took another step away from him. He was waiting for Victoire to okay him stopping whomever was chasing Iacob?
Was Victoire the Spaniard? Was this all an elaborate ruse?
The gate banged open and Iacob rushed in.
Behind him, a voice ordered, “Don’t close that.”
A too-familiar voice.
Nikolett’s whole body went icy cold with rage, then flushed hot with pleasure and longing. “Close it!”
Iacob didn’t hesitate. He spun, slammed the gate close, and pressed his shoulder against it, feet braced.
That didn’t noticeably slow Eric down.
Eric threw the gate open, the latch screaming in protest before breaking. Iacob went flying.
