“They’re following the bus,” I tell her, attempting to infuse my voice with calmness. The last thing I need is for her to start having a fucking panic attack.
“What the fuck are we going to do?” Lily demands, looking around
frantically.
“We are going to get out with the crowd, walk a few blocks in the opposite
direction, and jump into a cab.”
Hopefully, the men from the brothel won’t be able to turn around and catch
up with us before we have a chance to grab a cab. The bus is slowing down when I realize we cannot go back to the hotel I’m staying at. Last night, the brothel sent a driver to pick me up there, so it’s the first place they’ll come looking for me—for us. Fuck.
Exiting the bus along with the other passengers, I grab Lily’s hand, then steer us in the opposite direction. We walk quickly on the inside of the sidewalk, against the buildings to keep us as far away from the street as possible. There is an intersection ahead, the perfect place to wave down a cab. Stopping at the crosswalk, I step in front of Lily and wave down a cab that is driving toward us.
Scuttling into the cab, Lily throws herself into the seat and I follow. Once the door slams closed behind me, she starts giggling softly. I watch as the tension leaves her body. I can’t help but smile back at her.
“We made it.” She pants softly, reaching out her hand to grab my arm, initiating contact.
I spent the whole of last night seducing her, and it looks like my efforts have paid off. It may seem a small and insignificant touch, but I know what it means.
It means when not faced with imminent danger, she still wants me.
“Of course we did,” I state confidently, matching her grin with my own.
There’s no need to freak her out and tell her how nervous I was when I saw the SUVs behind us.
“Where you go?” the middle-aged cabby asks aggressively from the front, ruining the moment.
I scowl at him and rattle off the name of a hotel. Then I take out my wallet
and peel back several bills before asking to borrow his cell phone. Money always helps in these situations. I make a point of always having cash on hand.
After some negotiation, extortion on the cabby’s part, and several more bills are added, he hands back his cellphone. Last night, I had begrudgingly left mine at the hotel. The brothel doesn’t allow patrons to bring in electronic devices, and I didn’t want it confiscated at the door.
“Who are you calling?”
“I’m texting my assistant, Trevor,” I say. He is waiting for us at my original hotel and will need to meet us at our new location.
I cross my fingers that the text will go through. Calling him is not an option, as I doubt the cabby has an international calling plan.
“You have his number memorized?” Lily asks incredulously as I open the message app and, after locating the English keyboard, begin typing.
Finn: This is Finn. Borrowed a phone. I have Lily. Need to changelocations.
“I give it out all the time to people. It’s his work phone,” I tell her. There have been plenty of times when I needed to give someone, usually a woman, a
phone number but don’t want them to have access to my private phone.
“How many women have you given it to?” she asks perceptively, smiling widely at me.
I shake my head at her and take hold of her hand. She raises my hand and bites my finger playfully. Shaking off her hold, I grab the back of her neck and pull her into a rough kiss. She comes willingly, grabbing onto my T-shirt and moaning into my mouth.
The phone vibrates in my hand. I quickly pull out of the kiss to read it. Lily giggles, releases her hold on me, and leans back to relax.
Trevor: Where r u headed?
Finn: Where Peter stays. Landmark Mandarin Oriental. We need areservation. Meet us there.
Trevor: Ok. All packed & ready to go. Have clothes for Lily.
I smile at how efficient the man is.
Lily cuddles up next to me. She links our arms, rests her head on my shoulder, and reads the messages as they pop up on the screen. I kiss her forehead gently.
Finn: Any messages from Peter?
The fucker has a lot to answer for!
Trevor: Peter texted “Meet me in Paris”
Lily’s body shivers against mine. “Fuck Peter. I don’t want to go back to Paris,” she states, her voice laced with understandable fear.
If I had been drugged and kidnapped off the streets of Paris, I wouldn’t be in a hurry to return either.
“Shh, don’t worry, princess,” I tell her in a low voice, resting my head against hers and placing my free hand on her leg to squeeze it lightly.
Trevor: Would you like me to reply?
