track to avoid the worst of the explosion. How many more of his cronies were in that crowd? At least one—who’d shot at Lillian. Right now, Lars’s fellow guards would have dealt with the shooter, and Lars took out several himself.
There will be more.
He shot another glance at Lillian. From her rigid pose, he saw the tension hadn’t left her, but her fingers lay relaxed on her thigh, and she jostled with the motion of the van as he sped through the French countryside.
Protect at all costs.
He’d damn well do his duty and safely deliver her on the other side of this shit pile she’d landed in.
Afternoon approached, bathing her in a golden glow, and streaked her hair auburn. The soft pink pads of her fingertips lying on her thigh stirred his protective instincts, and he glanced away.
He’d see this job done and move on, just as he always did.
* * * * *
Lillian couldn’t believe she’d drifted off. She never slept in the day and couldn’t imagine how she’d napped after such a horrifying experience, but she jostled in the seat and realized with a start where she was.
She threw Lars a guarded look. He didn’t pull his gaze from the road.
“Why are we going north?” she asked.
“Because that’s the direction we’re traveling in.”
“Where are you taking me?”
He slanted a look at her, his stare inching over her face in a way that raised her irritation level another notch. Though he answered her questions, he did so with an edge bordering on cockiness and had her balling her fists.
After several heartbeats, he answered her. “We’re going someplace safe for the night.”
Odd to think of the race continuing on without Pierre. As far as everyone knew, Pierre walked away from a crash and took off with her.
“How did you survive that crash? Your car flipped so many times.”
“Four.” His voice sounded as though he spoke of the weather.
“Then it exploded.”
“I got out before that happened.”
“Are you some kind of a stuntman?”
He finally glanced her way again. Whenever he did, she wished he’d remove his attention from her at once. Except when he ignored her, she felt that itch of annoyance.
“I’m trained to make maneuvers in a vehicle.”
“And you’re trained to fight.” She suppressed a shiver at the memory of him killing those men. He hadn’t blinked an eye. What kind of man could do that?
Of course, they were being attacked, which changed things quite a bit. If Lars hadn’t done what he did, she wouldn’t be sitting here right now.
When they rolled into a small village, she recognized it as one of the locations tourists often visited, stopping for tours of local vineyards. Lars turned onto a side street.
“Are we going to the inn?”
He looked at her. “You have a very good sense of your country.”
“I travel a lot. I live in Paris, but I like to visit the countryside.”
Wordlessly, he parked the van they’d…stolen? Commandeered? God, she couldn’t believe this was real.
He led her in through the back door of the establishment, keeping a hand on her arm. His big, rough fingers gave her a sense of him doing manual labor, and his chiseled form suggested as much too. Maybe when he wasn’t playing bodyguard, he worked construction. For some reason the idea brought a hysterical giggle to her lips, which she squelched before she could expel it.
A middle-age man greeted them at the door.
“Do you have any other guests here tonight?” Lars asked.
“No. We aren’t busy at this time.”
“Good.” Lars pulled out a money clip and peeled several big bills off, which he handed to the man. “Keep the inn empty.”
“I’ll do that, monsieur.”
“Do you have food?”
“Sandwiches only this evening, us not being busy and all. Roast beef and—”
“That’s fine. Please bring it to us.”
“Of course. If you’ll come this way, I’ll show you to your room.”
She hiked up her brow. Room? Did he expect to share a bed with her?
The spacious inn boasted original stone walls in places and some more modern conveniences, such as an electric fireplace in the corner of the room the innkeeper led them to. She cast a glance around the space, wondering where in the world Lars would sleep—the bed or a very small chair the man probably couldn’t fit his hips into, let alone nod off in.
Once the innkeeper left them alone, Lars closed the door and twisted the lock. He didn’t move away from the door, standing on alert as if waiting for that slump-shouldered man to return and challenge