As soon as Natalie heard the distantpop!she grabbed the key fob, climbed out of the little Renault and started running.She wasn’t medically cleared for strenuous activity yet, but fuck that.Ford might be outnumbered, and he was definitely out-armed.Maybe she could level the playing field.
Somehow.
Her still-healing wound throbbed and her lungs burned, but the house sat less than two-hundred yards away, mostly downhill.She could suck it up.
Running with only one free arm was even more awkward than walking.A couple of times she almost tripped on the uneven ground, but she made it safely to the corner of the house on the side with her bedroom window.She peered through the glass and the sheer curtains, but didn’t see anyone in the room, or in the sliver of the main room visible beyond.
Darting to the front of the house, she crab-walked beneath the window and ran for the front door.Ford’s voice came through the open upstairs window, but she couldn’t make out the words as she stood there, trying to catch her breath.No other voices answered.
A quick turn of the handle revealed the door was unlocked, so she pushed it open, a loudcreakannouncing her presence.Dammit.Inside, she glanced into the dining room/kitchen/living room.Empty.Her stomach sank.Where was everyone?Why hadn’t Blitz come running?
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs.“Ford?”
Something thumped lightly on the floor.“Up here!I could use your help.”
At least her sprint hadn’t been for nothing.
Still breathing hard, she tackled the steps, her legs like jelly.At the top, she gasped at the scene.Henri lay on the floor, his shirt dripping red.Ford knelt next to him, pressing one hand to Henri’s stomach as he rolled the man away from him and lifted his shirt.Otherwise, the room seemed empty.
“Oh, my God.”She dropped to her knees next to Henri, her stomach suddenly made of lead.“What happened?”
“I think he was stabbed.It’s too clean for a bullet wound.”Ford returned Henri to his back.
The older man moaned, his eyes remaining closed as he mumbled what sounded like, “Delphine.”
“I heard a shot.”Or had she misinterpreted?Heard something else, like a car backfiring?
Ford nodded.“Pretty sure I interrupted the attack.He climbed out the window, but took a shot at me before he dropped down.”
She gasped.“Are you okay?”
Ford nodded.“He missed.”
Thank God.“What can I do?”
“I need to call an ambulance.Can you get the phone out of my pocket?”He nodded toward his right hip.
Swallowing hard, she nodded.The sight and smell of blood, Ford’s hands smeared with red… She saw him lying on the ground four years ago, after suffering a similar attack, his face so damn pale.She remembered the horror of watching their informant fall to the ground three weeks ago, and felt the shock of the bullet puncturing her chest just hours later, her pink shirt turning red as she lay on the floor of the condo in Lucerne, Emma and Jason’s faces etched with fear.
The edges of her vision turned black, and her head felt like a helium balloon.
“Natalie?”Ford’s voice pulled her back tothisroom, tothismoment.
She blinked and sucked in a deep breath.“Yep.I’ve got it.”Jesus, get a grip.Henri needed her.Ford needed her.She leaned in as he rose to his knees to give her access to the front of his khakis, revealing bright smears of blood on the fabric.“We’re here, Henri.You’re going to be okay.An ambulance is coming.”She slipped her hand into Ford’s bloody pocket and grabbed the phone.“Don’t let Deschamps win.You have unfinished business with that asshole.”
Henri grunted, but didn’t open his eyes.
She dialed the emergency number and held the burner to Ford’s ear.Less than a minute later, he began speaking French to whomever had answered his call.Complete gibberish to Nat’s ears, and right now she would give almost anything to be able to speak even a few words of comfort to Henri in his native language.
She should’ve taken advantage of her confinement with him to study French.Instead, she had only rusty high school Spanish.Not even good enough to decipher some of the billboards around LA.
She kept pressure on his wound with her good hand, and ran her other palm gently up and down his arm, her range of motion limited by the sling and a slight twinge of pain.Worth it to provide a—hopefully soothing—distraction.“Help is on the way,” she said softly.“Just hang on, okay?Do it for me.Do it for your wife.Please, Henri.Just a little longer.”Her voice cracked.Tears ran down her cheeks.
In a few short weeks, the grumpy man had become a friend.
Ford pressed a button on the phone and set it on the floor.“Natalie.”
She looked up at his tear-blurred face.
