She shrugged. “You’re obviously in love with her. You were always to going to defer to her on this.”
“I’m not … I didn’t … but how do you know about this place?” Flustered and red-faced, Omar soldiered on.
Marielle giggled, and he shot her a look.
“Sorry,” she said. ‘Not sorry,’ she mouthed to Hanna and Olivia.
Olivia looked at Marielle. “I was at the reading of Céline’s will with you, remember?”
Marielle nodded. Liv had been on assignment in Barcelona when Marielle got word that her grandmother was very ill. And after her assignment ended, she met Elle in Paris and stayed with her the entire time she made endless arrangements.
“I knew this place existed. I knew it was in the middle of nowhere. Heck, I even knew the key was under the planter. So, I took a gamble that you’d come here. And I was right. But if I’d been wrong, I’d have let myself in and regrouped.”
“And would have helped yourself to some wine, I bet.” Marielle grinned.
“Céline would have wanted me to,” she deadpanned.
“Still, that was a big chance. You could have been wrong,” Omar told her.
Olivia stared at him for a beat too long. “Not really. When you believe you know someone—truly know them—taking a chance isn’t so scary. You should try it sometime.”
Marielle gulped her wine.
Thirteen
Omar paced the patio, oblivious to the pink sun setting behind the hills. His mind was churning.
Olivia, Jake, and Trent had flown to Paris together. She’d headed to the cottage, and they’d taken a train to Marseille. They planned to borrow a chopper from an old Air Force buddy of Jake’s to extract the extraction team from the compromised flat. Olivia had said it in passing, like it was just another operational detail.
But it wasn’t. Trent and Jake were his brothers. And they were walking into danger.
Hanna would be safe with Marielle and Olivia. The women were armed, skilled, and in a secure location. But Jake and Trent were headed straight into whatever trap had been set at the safe house. Someone had to have their six. He had to have their six.
He couldn’t sit here doing nothing while they risked everything. As much as he didn’t want to leave Marielle behind, if they were going to make this … whatever it was … work, he had to be able to balance it with doing the job. They both did. Otherwise, they had no future together.
He didn’t have time to argue his position, though. He had to get on the road.
Feeling like a coward, he eased open the side door. He crept into the kitchen like a burglar, silently removed the keys to the Peugeot from the bowl on the counter, and slipped back outside. He pulled the door closed without making a sound.
Then he turned around to find Marielle standing barefoot in the grass, his rucksack and dry bag in her hands.
His stomach dropped. “Elle?—”
She shoved the bags at him. “You’re going to need these.”
“I have to?—”
“Don’t bother. I know you think you have to. You’re wrong. But I also know you’re going anyway.”
He took the bags, their hands brushing. “I can’t let them walk into that without me.”
“I know.” Her eyes held his. “Just go. And get out of there in one piece.” She stepped closer. “Remember, you have a date to keep.”
He kissed her then, long and deep, trying to memorize the taste of her, the feel of her against him. She threaded her fingers through his hair and held him close.
When they pulled apart, he asked, “Does Olivia know?”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you think we’re stupid, Omar? Any of us? Why do you think Ryan risked calling, Liv bothered to come here? They know you as well as I know you. We just hoped you were smarter.” She softened this lecture with her signature shrug. “Tant pis.”