Liam
Who knew being onthe lam could be so diverting? I haven’t had this much fun in the four years I’ve been laying low. All I needed was a cute, temperamental, borderline-frightening agent in tow.
What I should be focusing on is our next steps. Primarily, keeping our heads down until I can get to the Winthrops and ask them to call off the bounty.
But instead, my attention is focused solely on the woman in front of me. She is still fuming after I pushed her out of a window. It was an accident… mostly. I didn’t think she’d go flying. I guess it had something to do with gravity and inertia. I don’t know. Physics was never my favorite subject in school. Maybe if I’d known all the ways I would use it in life, I would have paid more attention.
“Where did you put the box?” Serena asks.
I glance from her swaying hips—I swear my eyes weren’t there a moment ago. She slows, and I dutifully turn my attention to the road, studying the faces of passing pedestrians. Any one of them could be here to capture me. Hunting me is a popular pastime as of late.
“Somewhere safe.”
“And that place is?”
Instead of answering, I raise my hand to secure a taxi. Two pass by before the third stops.
I catch Cruz eyeing the driver, and I do the same. No obvious weapons.
“Where to?” the man asks in broken English, assuming we are tourists.
I lean forward, speaking to him quietly in French.
Serena gets into the cab without hesitation, and I slide in beside her until our sides are plastered together. She glares at me and pulls her gun out, forcing me to my side of the vehicle, all while keeping the gun hidden from the driver.
My heart thumps against my rib cage, and not because of the gun aimed at me, but because of the woman wielding it. She’s fascinating.
The driver takes off, and Serena practically falls against the seat, closing her eyes for a second before they pop back open. She’s tired. She didn’t sleep last night. I know, because I didn’t either. I wish I could do the same—fall asleep to the lull of the motorcar. But I won’t.
Two minutes into our journey, she gives in and rests her head against the window, as far away from me as possible. She scrunches up her long legs, keeping her gun locked in her hand and pointed directly at me.
Her hair is wavy from her quick shower… so different from the straight hairstyle she always wore in the States that subdued her natural beauty. Today’s wild waves make her seem free and fun. Looks can be so deceiving. But looking at her is all I can do. She’s a masterpiece I want to paint but could never adequately recreate. If I had a sketchbook, I would commit this moment to memory. Her high cheekbones and full lips. Her tiny nose and thick lashes fanning her face.
Only when I’m sure she’s asleep do I lean forward and tell the driver where we’re really going.
Serena’s going to murder me. That’s the last thought I have before my eyes drift closed.
Rumble strips jerk me awake.
Shoot.
I dart a glance at Serena, who is still asleep, a tiny snore escaping her lips. She’s a tough woman, mentally, and physically, but her snoring is the most delicate, precious thing I’ve ever witnessed. I can’t help it. I pull out my phone and record her for a solid minute.
I’m turning the camera around to get a selfie with a snoring agent when her eyes flutter open, still heavy from sleep and utterly adorable.
I drop my phone to my lap. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.”
She straightens, trying and failing to tame her mess of black waves. “Where are we?”
I glance out the window. Buckingham Palace should be coming into view very soon. “You’ll see.”
The second the palace is visible, Serena catches her breath.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I grin, happy to have caught her by surprise.
“No.”
I dart a glance over at Serena who looks far from elated and instead utterly horrified.
