Edge pounded the pavement behind him, guns drawn. Already in the distance sirens could be heard, and Swanny knew they had one giant clusterfuck on their hands.
“Son of a bitch!” Swanny swore as he skidded to a stop.
Edge came to an abrupt halt beside him and the two stared down at the discarded AT-4. An older model, not the recoilless version found in more recent editions. Swanny glanced quickly around, taking in the disturbance in the soil, then snapped his attention back to Edge.
“Fuck. The French police are going to be all over this. You got anything on you to do a check for prints?” Swanny asked.
Edge grimly nodded. “They don’t call me Mr. Prepared for the Worst for nothing.”
He reached into one of the breast pockets of his suit and pulled out a box containing gloves, tape and dusting powder.
“You got about one minute before we’re made, so put it in high gear,” Swanny muttered, listening as the sounds of the sirens grew louder.
Edge quickly went to work on his examination, carefully bagging evidence and dusting for prints. His gaze drifted to the same area of disturbance Swanny had already observed, and he lifted one eyebrow.
“Seems our ass**le can’t afford more up-to-date equipment.”
Swanny’s gaze swept the area again, this time noting small patches of blood likely caused by the recoil. He wished the f**ker had blown himself up, but it was obvious he’d escaped. This time. If Swanny had his way, he wouldn’t get another chance to get to Eden. It was time to crack down and crack down hard, which meant calling in Sam and putting every bit of KGI’s might behind tracking down this son of a bitch.
“Let’s get out of here,” Swanny said. “I want to get back to Eden. She has to be scared out of her mind.”
Swanny and Edge hurried back toward the scene. Swanny cursed vividly when he saw a swarm of reporters and news crews all homed in on Eden’s pale face. Nathan, Joe and Skylar were doing an admirable job of keeping the vultures back, but police were questioning all four, which made crowd control next to impossible. After all, it wasn’t every day a vehicle got RPG’d right in the middle of Paris.
There were murmurs and shouts all between tossing question after question the policemen’s way.
“They want to know if this was a terrorist attack,” Edge translated.
Swanny lifted an eyebrow at his friend. “Since when are you fluent in French?”
Edge grinned. “My mother is French. I actually have dual citizenship and was born in America. My dad was military, so I followed in his footsteps for a while but found fighting was more of a challenge. I thrived on the adrenaline.”
As they strode rapidly to the scene, Swanny glanced over at his friend. “So why’d you give up MMA?”
Edge shrugged. “I was getting older. The competition was getting younger. I wanted to go out on top so when I won the belt in the heavyweight division I announced my retirement a few months later. But I was still restless and wanted the adrenaline. I wanted to make a difference. I guess it’s what bothered me most when I quit the army to pursue a career in MMA, because at least in the army I was making a difference. It wasn’t all about me and my ability to pound a guy in the ring. When I heard about KGI, it seemed the perfect compromise. I knew I was qualified. I was a ranger. My skills weren’t rusty because even after I left the army I still kept to my military regimen. Kept my shooting skills up. I guess even back then I missed it and realized I’d made a bad decision.”
As soon as Eden looked up through the crowd and saw Swanny coming toward her, she broke away from the police and reporters and shoved her way through the resisting crowds. She threw herself into his arms and held him tightly. She shook violently against him. There wasn’t a single part of her that wasn’t quivering. Her teeth chattered and her skin was icy cold.
Swanny swore as he gathered her in his arms, covering as much of her as he could. She was in shock and it was obvious no one had made any effort to get her medical attention.
He buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair, such a contrast to the smell of fire, smoke and melting rubber. Even the scent of blood hung obscenely in the air.
“I was so scared for you,” she whispered brokenly. “Oh God, Swanny, never do that to me again. I died a thousand times waiting for you to come back, so afraid you wouldn’t.”
Tears slipped openly down her cheeks as she swallowed back a raw sob. He tenderly kissed each drop of moisture away and then clung to her, anchoring her through the storm.
With Edge translating, Swanny got his point across in a blunt, take-it-or-leave-it fashion. Swanny wasn’t leaving Eden exposed a minute longer. He was taking her back to her hotel and if the police wanted to question her, it damn sure wouldn’t be at a precinct.
The officers on the scene put up a token protest until Skylar very sweetly informed them exactly who Eden Sinclair was and that she was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world and it wouldn’t look good for the police to hold a shaken, in-shock, scared-out-of-her-mind woman against her will.
The commanding officer on the scene couldn’t backpedal quickly enough. He immediately arranged a police caravan to ferry Eden and her entourage back to the hotel, though Swanny made a mental note to check out and find another hotel. As soon as the news got out—and it would—the journalists, both legitimate and paparazzi, would be circling like vultures, which would put Eden in an even more vulnerable position.
Swanny quickly led Eden to their suite, holding on to her because she was far from steady on her feet. As soon as they were inside, she collapsed on the couch, leaned forward so her elbows rested on her knees and buried her face in her hands.
Silent sobs shook her shoulders, hell, her entire body. She lifted her tear-drenched eyes to his, and it cut out his heart to see her in such distress.
“Why, Swanny? Why? I don’t understand,” she said, her voice cracking under the weight of emotion. “Why would someone want to blow up my car? Who could possibly hate me so much that they’d go to such horrible lengths to kill me? I don’t u-u-understand.”
Her voice broke off and she dropped her face into her hands once more, her shoulders heaving with the force of her sobs.
He went to her. He couldn’t do anything else. A man who didn’t comfort his woman when she needed it the most wasn’t much of a man. She turned blindly to him, clinging to him like a burr, burying her face in his neck, wetting the collar of his shirt with her tears,