She laughed lightly.“Georges Brassens.”Hopefully she hadn’t butchered the name.“Henri said he was popular in the 50s and 60s.”
“He sounds like a campy, easy-listening version of Johnny Cash.”
“Same era, right?”She shrugged, feeling a little defensive on her host’s behalf.“It’s growing on me.Apparently, a lot of his songs are anti-establishment, but I have to rely on Henri to translate.Wait till you hear the one about the well-endowed gorilla who breaks out of a zoo and attacks a judge.”
Ford’s eyes widened, and she laughed.For a brief moment, she could almost forget that her world had gone to hell.
Ford woke at four a.m.to the high-frequency buzzing of cicadas competing with birdsong and the occasional lowing of distant cattle.Moonlight peeked around the edges of thick curtains, illuminating Blitz in her spot on the floor, up against his makeshift bed.
He sat up and stifled a groan, his back protesting a night on too-soft cushions.Maybe next time, he’d set up on the floor with his dog.
She lifted her head and rested her chin on the sofa with a faint whine.“Go back to sleep, Beeze.I’m fine.”He scratched her between the ears until she dropped her head with an exaggerated sigh.
After using the toilet in the oddly shaped half-bath where he’d stashed his toothbrush, Ford couldn’t stop himself from walking the perimeter of the main floor, checking that the doors and windows were still locked, and peering out into the night.
The motion-triggered spotlights he’d installed last month in the front and back yards were currently off, but the softer lights that provided illumination around the property showed nothing amiss.
Over the background chorus of night sounds, the rhythmic, almost beep-like call of an owl stood out.It reminded him of a heart rate monitor in both sound and spacing.Or maybe a garbage truck backing up very slowly.The first night he’d stayed here a few weeks ago, the odd call had woken him from sleep, and he’d looked it up.Now, it comforted him.The owl probably wouldn’t stick around if anyone were prowling the area.
Saving Natalie’s bedroom for last, he shuffled quietly toward her door, which she’d left open a few inches.He listened to the faint sound of her breathing, and let his eyes trace the shape of her body on the left side of the double bed.A shell-shaped nightlight plugged into the wall reflected off her golden hair.The sunny color wasn’t her natural shade, but it suited her.
And he noticed because he was fucking pathetic.How annoying that confirming she was okay made it a little easier to draw breath.None of the clients he’d been hired to protect over the years had affected him the way she did.And he’d sure as hell never kissed any of them.
But even four years ago, he’d wanted to, God help him.He could finally admit that.He’d somehow managed to take out Marinelli before the man could hurt Natalie, but now Ford only remembered her leaning over him, cupping his head, her gorgeous face white with shock, tears streaming down her cheeks.
His scar twinged at the memory, but he shook it off.He couldn’t afford to fall under her spell again.He had to be on his A game in order to keep her safe.
He backed away from the door, determined to get a couple more hours of sleep before Henri came down to make coffee.
A soft cry, followed by a string of curses, came from inside the bedroom.
“Natalie?”He pushed through the doorway and stopped at the sight of her sitting up in bed, wearing a pale, loose T-shirt that hung off one shoulder.“What’s wrong?”
“Ford?”Her voice was soft and a little scratchy.“Sorry.I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s fine.I was up.”He moved closer.“Are you okay?”
She laughed lightly.“It was nothing.Sometimes I forget I haven’t healed yet and move too fast, or the wrong way.I’m fine.”
His heart banged inside his chest as he looked at her.
“Why are you awake?”she asked.“Is the couch too uncomfortable?”
“It’s fine.I just needed the bathroom.”
“You’re a bad liar.”
He shook his head.How did she undo him so easily?“Usually, I’m pretty good at it.”
She gifted him with a small smile.“I spent a lot of time watching you.I’ve learned your tells.”
Was it dark enough to hide the heat that flooded his cheeks?Damned fair skin.“I have tells?”His stomach dipped at the thought of her watching him that closely.
One shoulder lifted.“Everyone does if you pay attention.They’re not the same though.You need a baseline of behavior to spot the difference.”
He knew this, of course.Knew it wasn’t like the movies where they made it seem like there were standard signs of evasion.Sure, there were some commonalities, but also many other reasons for people to make certain expressions, avoid eye contact, or have other reactions when questioned.Culture, past trauma, personality, upbringing, illness or physical conditions…
“I suppose that’s a good skill for an investigative journalist to have.”If that’s what she really was.He’d begun to have doubts.
