Heknewher.
She needed something else. Something more.
Instead of their past and every shitty thing he’d done being the reason she said no, he secretly believed the real issue was he’d been soft and romantic. The next time he wouldn’t be. He’d tie her to a chair and gag her so she couldn’t run away and had to listen to him.
That vague plan had carried him through the remainder of that first night and into the next day.
Until Elijah pointed out just how utterly wrong that was. Unfair to himself. Unfair to her.
He’d wanted to protest, to say that yes, maybe for normal people kidnapping and threats were wrong, but this was him and Nikolett.
Elijah had reminded him that love that wasn’t freely given, wasn’t really love.
Eric had swallowed his protests and justifications and silently abandoned his half-baked kidnapping plan.
Along with it, he abandoned any hope for a relationship with the woman he loved.
He didn’t know why he was still in Paris. They could have left last night after his call with Elijah. He could just have easily lain awake not sleeping at home instead of in Paris.
Feeling the sun on his face for the first time in days was step one toward gathering himself enough to go home.
He was just about to call Regina and ask her to make arrangements when the back of his neck prickled.
Danger.
He’d known a mercenary who called that instinctive awareness of danger “scope sense” because that feeling meant someone was staring at you through the scope of a rifle—either literally, or a more metaphoric danger.
He was experiencing scope sense right now.
Slowly, Eric pushed away from the wall, scanning the quiet side street where the boutique hotel was located. The street was already narrow, and cars parked on one side made it barely passable for one vehicle.
Short trees grew from tree wells in the sidewalk. Given his room was on the top floor, he was actually looking down at thetops of the trees, which meant much of his view of the street was obstructed.
The sense of being in danger, of being watched, increased.
Fuck.
Eric reached for his pocket…except he didn’t have pockets in his loose pajama pants, which meant no phone.
He took a slow step to his right, scanning the street below and the buildings across from him for danger. One more step, and he’d be able to back into the room through the narrow balcony doors.
He looked down, across, left, and right.
He forgot to look up.
He’d just reached back for the door handle when movement above caught his eye.
Eric jerked his head up just as something sharp bit into the meat of his shoulder. He yanked the dart out with one hand, as a man dropped down from the roof.
Booted feet hit the iron balcony, which sang and vibrated from the force. The assailant wore urban camo, the blotchy grays and buff color designed to blend in with the rubble of a destroyed city. Currently it was doing a pretty good job of making him blend in with the sandstone-colored brick of the hotel. He wore a balaclava in the same print, his eyes hard and flat.
Snarling, Eric reached for the man. A balcony in Paris wasn’t as good as a seaside cliff, but he was finally going to get to throw someone off a high place.
Hands grabbed him from behind, yanking him into the hotel room. His shoulder hit the doorframe as his heel caught on the doorjamb. He stumbled, off-balance.
Expecting it to be Regina, he turned to tell her toplease for the love of God let me kill him. I need the emotional outlet.
But it wasn’t Regina behind him.
