“Be careful.”
But he was already gone.
CHAPTER NINE
GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT.Ford didn’t want to leave Natalie here on her own, but taking her along would slow him down and divide his attention.Now he prayed she’d actually listen to him and stay put.
Sprinting away from the car, he stayed low and ran alongside the berry bushes that had overtaken the south-facing fence line, using them for cover.He might be overreacting.Everything might be fine.But the gravel drive had looked heavily disturbed, like a large vehicle had backed out quickly.
Someone could have been lost and used it to turn around.Or they could’ve come looking for Henri.No idea how they’d have found him, but as careful as Ford had been, he wasn’t infallible.He knew that all too well.
As he approached the house, he lost his concealment.Before moving Henri into the house, he’d cleared away the bushes and brush within thirty yards to prevent someone from creeping up on it exactly as he was trying to do now.Racing across the grass, he hopped a short wall and crouched beneath the kitchen window.Slowly, he rose and peered through the glass.
No movement.Everything looked quiet.Too quiet.
His scalp prickled.Henri might be taking a nap, but Blitz should be barking right now.She didn’t bark indiscriminately, but she was an effective guard dog.
Ford’s stomach churned.Circling the trees, he crossed the back patio to the door and found it locked.Jogging around to the front of the house, he took a peek through the bedroom and living room windows, seeing nothing.Nerves increasingly wound tight, he checked the front door.Still ajar.
Fuck.
Had Blitz run away?Part of him hoped it was that simple.
He pushed open the thick wooden door.It squeaked, as always, a simple early warning.Henri had refused to have an alarm system in the house despite Ford’s insistence.Ultimately, Ford had backed down, hoping that the remote location was enough protection.He should’ve pressed harder.
Thump.The sound came from the second floor, followed by a several other unrecognizable sounds.
Despite the pulse pounding in his ears, he felt preternaturally calm and focused as he glanced into the main room, finding it empty, before he raced up the stairs.Adrenaline was his friend right now, but he’d pay the price later.
His stomach bottomed out at the sight of Henri on his back, the lower half of his striped button-up shirt soaked with blood.
A sound from the far wall caught his attention.The window had been tilted all the way open and a man slithered through the opening.Ford raced after him, but the acrobat gripped the sill with one hand, while producing a pistol in the other.
Fuck.Ford hit the floor and a tuft of carpet flew into the air a foot from his face.Crack!
He rolled and landed in a crouch, ready to evade another round, but the gunman had disappeared.Dashing to the wall, Ford reached the window just in time to see the assassin get up, dust himself off, and limp down the gravel drive to where a small Dacia Duster idled.
Dammit.He waited just long enough to ensure the little black SUV drove away, and then dropped to the floor next to the injured doctor.“Henri?”Ford’s hands shook as he ripped apart the buttons on the man’s shirt and located the wound at the base of his ribs.“Hey.Look at me,” Ford said in French.
The older man blinked his eyes.“I am going to see Delphine.”His voice was weak and hoarse.
“Not yet, goddammit.”Ford put pressure on the oozing wound.“Not yet.”
The man might want to join his wife, but he also wanted justice for her killer.His testimony might be the only chance for that outcome.
Also, Ford didn’t want him to die.“Henri, stay with me.Please.”
He fished in his front pocket for the untraceable cell phone he’d brought to France, while keeping an ear out for the intruder.If the shooter returned with reinforcements before the cops arrived, he and Henri were screwed.
Sure, Deschamps’ hired guns were likely to find Henri easily in a hospital, but that was a problem for later.Without immediate treatment, he would die.Ford had no choice but to call for help.
At some point he’d learned France’s emergency numbers, but at the moment, he couldn’t remember the right one.The all-EU number, 112, might take a few extra seconds to transfer him over, but it would get the job done.
The phone was tangled in his goddamned pocket, and he shifted his hips for better access, but before he could pull it free, the sound of the front door’s squeaky hinges broke the quiet.
Shit.
Ford gave up on the phone and braced himself to fight.
