“What are you doing in here?”he asked, his accent obvious but not thick, voice sharp.“This is my private space.”He flung an arm wide, gesturing to the room, then patted his chest.“I let you into my home—against my will, I might add—and this is how you repay me?”
Her face heated as she gripped the doorframe for support.She was absolutely in the wrong, and he had every reason to be—Wait one fucking minute.
Her jaw went slack, and she snapped it shut.Squaring her shoulders, she glared back at him.“You speakEnglish?”
All the fight seemed to leach out of Henri, his mouth twisting as he took a step back and released a long breath.“Yes, I speak English.I attended Oxford.”
“What.The.Fuck?”At the moment, she couldn’t be more articulate than that.Her shoulder had begun throbbing and she desperately needed a nap.“You’ve been pretending for nearly aweek.”
He ran a hand through his hair.“I was angry.Ford dropped you on my doorstep, assuming I would take care of you because I owed him.He was correct, but bringing you here put me at risk.It put you at risk too.”
Some of her ire cooled.She couldn’t stay pissed at the man when she’d been foisted upon him against his will and he’d helped her anyway.“Look, I’m sorry he put you in this position.If it’s any consolation, Ford has a habit of doing what he thinks is best without asking for permission.For example, I woke up to find out that everyone thinks I’m dead.That would not have been my choice, but he took it from me.And revealing the truth right now could endanger the people I care about most.”
Henri nodded, his expression somber.“I too am considered deceased, but it was my choice.”Taking a step back, he gestured to the sofa and watched carefully as she moved to the firm cushion.He crossed his arms and looked down at her.“Tell me what you were looking for in here.”
“A computer, or some other way to access the Internet.”
“I don’t have anything like that,” he said, opening the window on the far side of the room.“It’s not safe.”
She made a frustrated noise of protest.“There are ways to make it safe.Trust me.This is what I do.”
“And what is that, exactly?”He opened the other window to create a delightful cross-breeze and then sat on the edge of his bed.
“I’m an investigative journalist.”Her cover was close enough to the truth, and provided a reasonable explanation for her covert activities for the Night Herons.“I have access to all kinds of tools for protecting myself and my sources.”That was one-hundred-percent true.
“What do you expect you could do while stuck in a farmhouse in the south of France?”
She threw up her free hand.“Find out if my partner is okay.See if she was able to expose the guy we were after.Ensure the people I care about are safe.”Her eyes stung.Not knowing was killing her.
Henri studied her for a moment.“Who wants you dead?”
Shrugging her good shoulder, she said, “I assume it’s the men we were building a case against.It’s always been a risk, but this is the first time my work has put me in serious danger.”
His forehead wrinkled.“How did Ford get involved?”
“I called him.”
At that, Henri’s eyebrows rose.“You have a relationship with him?”
“Aworkingrelationship.A few years ago, I had a stalker, and Ford was my bodyguard.When I was shot, I called him, thinking he might know someone in Switzerland who could watch out for me at the hospital until my family or friends arrived.I didn’t expecthimto show up.Or to decide that having me declared dead would be the best protection.”
“Did he have good reasons?”
She scowled.“Yes, but it still pisses me off.”
The corners of Henri’s mouth tipped up in the first semblance of a smile she’d seen on his face.“Understandable.”
“Why are you here?”
His expression darkened and his lips pressed flat.Staring at his knees, he finally said, “In Geneva, I made house calls for a wealthy man with a sick daughter.Unbeknownst to me, he worked for a Balkan crime syndicate.FedPol—the Swiss Federal Police—asked me to use my access to help them infiltrate the organization.”He stopped, his face turning blotchy.
“Did you do it?”Natalie asked.
Nodding, he finally looked at her.“Somehow, they found out and…” A pained sound came from his throat.He took the silver frame off the nightstand and Natalie’s stomach churned as he gazed at the woman’s photo, his eyes turning glassy.“They killed her.”A tear tracked down his cheek and he swiped it away, clearing his throat.“My wife, Delphine.”
“Oh, God, Henri.I’m so sorry.”Her throat clogged.She watched, feeling helpless, as his jaw hardened and he drew in a deep breath.
“I don’t care about my life anymore, but I have to live long enough to testify.That’s why I’m here, hiding out in this beautiful place that she would’ve loved.The kind of place I was always too busy working to take her.”
