Dom Kennedy.
The ocean flashed beside us while the highway opened up.
He finally spoke again a few minutes later.
“I used to ride with my mom to Paris when she transported shit.”
I turned toward him.
“That’s cool, but you know this is going to be boring.”
He shrugged like it was normal. “It’s not as bad as you think.” He glanced at me briefly.
“I got some plans for us. It won’t be just straight driving.”
“Well,” I muttered, “I’m hungry.”
He smirked immediately. “I know,” and added, “Foodie.”
I frowned.
“You trying to say I eat too much?”
“That burger yesterday told me everything.”
I rolled my eyes again.
“That is detox hunger.”
“Whatever you say.” He tapped the steering wheel once. “Food is our first stop.”
About thirty minutes later, the car rolled into Nice.
The ocean stretched bright blue beside the city, the kind of view that made you forget the world was dangerous.
Ares pulled into a small parking lot near the water.
When I stepped out of the car, the breeze hit my face immediately.
Warm.
Fresh.
But I noticed something else. A black SUV was parked across the street.
Two men sitting inside.
Watching.
I glanced at Ares. “We’re not actually alone, are we?”
He followed my gaze briefly. “My security.”
“Of course.”
“They won’t bother us.” He gestured toward the restaurant across the promenade. “Come on.”
The place sat right along the water.
