Surrender (Careless Whispers #3)(3)

“Blake said he can’t tell us that.”

“Why?” I don’t give him time to answer. “She’s in danger.”

“Yes,” Chris agrees. “She’s hiding from something.”

“Is it Garner Neuville?” I ask, aware that he’d had an affair with her and has been looking for her too.

“We don’t know anything, Sara.”

“We know he’s dangerous, and I wanted to ask her about him so badly. Can we call Blake and find out what’s going on?”

“Let him focus on taking care of her. He’ll call us the minute he can.” His phone starts ringing again. “And that’s going to be him.”

“Oh, thank God,” I breathe out, while Chris picks up the phone off the ledge and then gives me a nod, telling me it’s Blake.

“I’ll put him on speaker,” he says, and I quickly scoot over, giving him room to sit next to me, both of us leaning against the alcove surrounding the window.

“Blake, Sara and I are both on the line,” Chris says, setting the phone on the ledge between us.

“I can’t believe you found her!” I say. “Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad we found her, too,” he says. “But here is where things get complicated. She’s hiding, and when you uncover someone who’s hiding, you either save them or destroy them.”

“Who is she hiding from?” Chris asks.

“I don’t know,” he says. “But the man she’s with is protective as hell.”

“Is she his prisoner?” I ask. “And who is he?”

“She’s not a prisoner,” Blake says. “I’m sure of it. Now, does that mean she’s aware of the many sides of the man she’s with? That, I cannot say.”

“What sides?” I ask.

“He’s a powerful man,” Blake says. “And while he’s known to have a moral compass, he’s also known to be a person you don’t cross.”

“You’re not making me feel good here,” I say. “Who is he, exactly? Powerful in what way?”

“I’d like to know those answers, as well,” Chris adds.

“He’s the leader over France and Italy for an organization called The Underground. They’re Treasure Hunters by their own definition. They will find anything, from people, to things, to data—you name it—for a price. I did some digging around when I found out who he was with, and he’s known to have offered aid to a few U.S. government agencies.”

“So he’s not a bad guy,” I say, relieved.

“Sweetheart,” Blake says, “I’ve known agents who were bad. I’m not willing to define him as good quite yet. The problem for me is that he doesn’t seem to feel that the group we hired to help find Ella is trustworthy. He’s concerned they’ll sell her out to whoever she’s running from.”

“Is he right?” Chris asks, an edge to his voice.

“They’re European-based, and there’s no record of them with any U.S. agency. I’m digging deeper.”

“Do they know who we are?”

“I never used your names,” Blake says, “and we have no reason to believe they’d connect the dots or even bother trying, but—”

“That’s as far as you need to go,” Chris says. “I’m taking Sara back to the States tonight and I need your men there waiting for us.”

My objection is instant. “You have a huge charity event at the Louvre in a couple of days, Chris. People paid big money to meet you.”

“Your safety is first,” he says. “The end. We aren’t talking about it.”

“Actually,” Blake says, “pulling out would get attention you don’t want. At this point, we don’t know who Ella is running from, why she’s running, or even if we have a problem at all.”

“We don’t know that we don’t, either,” Chris counters.

“This event is important to you, to us,” I say. “And to the Children’s Hospital.”

“Your bodyguard, Rey, is excellent,” Blake says. “So is his brother. I’ll coordinate with them and cover you now.”

“Rey’s already on duty,” Chris says, “and so is his brother.”

“I’ll update him on the situation, then,” Blake says. “And I’ll get my men on a plane to you to cover the event. If you want to leave right after the event, we’ll take you straight to the airport.”

Chris’s lips thin, the lines of his body are tight, and I can almost feel his fear for me clawing at him, taking him to a private hell I’ll visit with him when this is over.

“Or,” Blake says, clearly uncomfortable with the silence, “they can escort you back to San Francisco.”

“When do we get an update?”

“Twelve hours.”

“We’ll let you know our plans then.”

“Understood,” Blake replies.

Chris ends the call, sucking in air and lifting his face to the ceiling. And I know what’s going on in his head. Paris is where he lost his mother and father. And it’s where street robbers killed his ex-girlfriend’s parents and he was forced to kill a teenage boy before he shot her, as well. And it’s where that same ex killed herself only weeks ago. Paris is the hotbed of his torment, yet it’s also the place that put a paintbrush in his hand and began to heal him. But he doesn’t need me to tell him I know these things. He knows I know. He knows I understand.