His to Defend - Em Petrova Page 0,12
to the ground, and Lars set a boot on it. He pulled it toward him and finished off the third man. Leaving any behind meant that many more would come after them.
Waving to Lillian, he said, “Quick.”
She stumbled across the room to him, and the strange stiff-legged walk reminded him of a new colt just finding its legs. Terror lived in her hazel eyes, and she paled, but at least she hadn’t fainted. Carrying a woman’s dead weight while trying to make a getaway would be a pain in the ass.
A glance at the courtyard told him the coast remained clear, and he dragged her outside just as the back door exploded off the hinges.
The men after them arrived by van, and he ran up to it with Lillian in tow. “Get in,” he barked out and whirled to pop off a shot at a fourth attacker now reaching the front door.
As soon as he heard the van door slam shut and knew his ward made it safely inside, he jumped behind the wheel and gunned the gas. They laid down rubber on the cobblestoned street, and he threw a look in the rearview as they rushed away.
“Did you steal that man’s keys?” Lillian stared at the empty ignition.
Fuck, she noticed I didn’t use a key to start the van.
“It must be rigged to start without a key,” he lied. Buried in the sinew of his wrist was a microchip that aided him in all possible ways. Every door opened to him, and he never needed a key to drive away. He could also use it to search databases worldwide. Hell, he hadn’t tried, but if he wanted to control a satellite’s path, he probably fucking could.
“Hold on.” He took a tight turn at top speed, and Lillian leaned hard to the side.
“Who are those men? What is happening?” Some of her fear had vanished, replaced by that demand in her tone once again.
“I don’t know those men’s names.”
“Dammit, that isn’t what I mean!”
He sliced a look at her. Keep her talking, even if she’s angry. At least she won’t be afraid.
“My guess is that you’re being targeted because you recognized that shooter back at the track.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh my God.”
He crested the hill and jammed his boot into the gas pedal. “Is that a yes?”
She nodded.
“What did you say to him before he shot at you?”
Her stare landed on him. Something about the piercing look unsettled him. He’d met a handful of people who had the ability to look into a man, and Lillian possessed the same type of stare.
“He’s acquainted with Brun, the man who sponsors Pierre. I told him we had to get away from the explosion.”
“And he turned and looked at you. That’s when he fired.” He nodded to himself as all the puzzle pieces fell into place.
“What does this all mean?”
“It means you’re their target.”
“Where is Pierre? I thought they were after him.” Her voice rose with an edge of hysteria that made him question just how close she and her client were.
“Pierre is safe.”
“Take me to him. I need to see for myself.”
“Not possible.” Upon their arrival at the country house, a fellow guard acting as a go-between came to the back door, carrying information from the missionary watching over Pierre. “Your client is safe, and that’s all you need to know for now.”
He drove for several minutes, continuously glancing in his mirrors. For now, he’d stalled the efforts of the men out for Lillian’s blood, but he had enough experience to recognize the calm before the storm.
Lillian looked at him, and he saw the questions swirling behind her eyes. He didn’t know much about her, having spent his energy on learning everything about Pierre Moreau’s life, from daily habits and voice inflections right down to how he liked his eggs.
Before the woman could get a word out, he asked a question of his own. “How much of Moreau’s life do you know about?”
“I work with him on almost a daily basis. He has many press conferences and interviews. He also does magazine advertisements and TV commercials, so there’s always someplace he needs to be, and I’m the one who has to push him to go.”
“Then you’d say he’s lazy?”
“Lazy? No. Distracted, yes.” Suddenly, she gasped.
“What is it?”
“Pierre loves women. Maybe he got involved with a married woman and her irate husband wants him dead.”
Lars ingested the information in two ways—how Moreau’s acts could play into his present troubles, and