‘It was empty, gorgeous. I’m sorry.’
I let out a long breath. ‘Fuck,’ I mutter. ‘But it was encrypted and everything. Why do that if there’s nothing sensitive on it?’
‘Maybe it didn’t copy properly because of the encryption.’
I sigh. ‘Thanks for trying.’
‘I’m sorry.’
I shake my head at him. It’s not his fault, after all. Though if I want The Heath gone, everything now hinges on if Sauvage’s guys in London can find hard copies of evidence that Natalie Mason, the reporter who was clearly murdered in London, might have stashed somewhere.
Blake pulls me into his arms and holds me. I feel his phone buzz in his pocket and his body freezes. He pulls away, his expression blank.
‘Is it them?’ I ask quietly.
He gives a jerky nod.
‘Then you should go do what you have to do. Don’t give them an excuse to hurt you.’
He hugs me hard, his jaw clenched.
‘I love you,’ he whispers.
‘I love you, too.’
‘I’ll find whatever I can to prove our theory as soon as I’m done.’
And then he’s gone.
I glance back at the others, who are both looking grim.
Shade approaches. ‘Do you want to take some of your stuff over to the club? Might take your mind off things.’
I give him a small smile. ‘Yeah, I’d like that.’
We go into the bedroom, and I grab some clothes, my toiletries, and my laptop. The guys pack up some of their clothes, which I’ve noticed are looking a lot more dapper… and I might saySauvage-esquethese days. Regardless of their vocal dislike of the Frenchman, he’s clearly rubbed off on them while we’ve been living here, and I don’t think they hate him nearly as much as they pretend.
‘I’ll go tell Sauvage we’re leaving in person,’ I say.
Shade nods. ‘We’ll wait for you downstairs by the entrance to the tunnels.’
I go down to Pierre’s office. Thomas lets me in, and I wonder if this will be the last time. He’s at his desk, staring at his computer screen.
When he sees me, he smiles and stands.
‘Chéri. I was just going to ask you to come down.’
Does he look excited?
‘Why?’ I ask.
Then my eyes widen as my brain catches up. ‘Your contacts in London. They found something?’
‘Oui. In her apartment. They found files hidden in a hole in the wall, in a cupboard behind a water tank, I’m told. They’re sending photos. I’ll forward them to you when they come.’
‘Thank you so much, Pierre,’ I say, frustrated that I don’t know how to convey to him how appreciative I am. ‘Really.There was nothing on the flash drive I brought back. I was afraid that was it.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he murmurs.
