I should have known it couldn’t last.
The second they reached the rock jetty, Sylvain navigated to a hidden nook where the boulders naturally shielded them on all sides, like a house without a roof.
They crouched down low, both of them tense.
In the safety of the rocks, Allie felt safe enough to whisper. ‘What …?’
‘I don’t know.’ His voice was taut, and a muscle worked in his jaw. ‘But I’m going to find out.’
Fear burned Allie’s stomach like acid. It must have shown on her face because he took her by the shoulders. His hands were steady and his eyes pleaded with her not to argue.
‘Stay here.’ Though whispered, the words seemed to echo around them. ‘Please, Allie. I’m going to see what’s happening then I’ll come right back. I promise.’
A visceral frustration shook her. She should go with him – she was trained for this.
But she didn’t know how to swim. If she insisted on going too, she’d make things more dangerous for both of them.
She held his gaze fiercely. ‘Be careful.’
For a moment he looked at her as if he wanted to say something; instead he pulled her close, hugging her hard. His skin felt wet and cold against hers.
Then he slipped out between the rocks and dived into the water, disappearing with barely a ripple.
As soon as he was out of sight, Allie wanted him back.
Her chest ached. She wrapped her arms tightly across her torso.
People kept getting hurt because of her. First Ruth, then Jo, then Rachel. If Nathaniel got his hands on Sylvain …
Three gunshots rang in quick succession and she gasped, ducking low. A bullet ricocheted off something with a high-pitched whine.
Allie gripped the stone in front of her, digging her nails into a crevice in the black rock. Barnacles were like razor blades beneath her fingertips and she welcomed the pain. It helped her think.
More time passed and Sylvain didn’t return. It was becoming difficult to breathe.
She couldn’t stay here, could she? He could be hurt. He might need her help.
For a long while she stayed low, torn between rushing out to find him and doing as he’d asked. She counted her breaths.
Fifty-three breaths in. Fifty-four. Fifty-five …
He should be back.
Finally she couldn’t take it any more. She couldn’t swim but she could wade or … walk. Something.
She leapt up. At that precise moment, he appeared, dripping from the sea.
Relief threatened to bring tears to her eyes.
Some of the tension left his face as soon as he saw her. He moved swiftly into the safety of the rocks.
‘I was sure you wouldn’t be here,’ he said.
‘I can’t bloody swim.’ Helpless frustration rang in her voice and she forced herself to lower it to a whisper. ‘What’s happening?’
His expression changed, becoming more business-like.
‘There are two of them. Our guards are holding them off for now but more could be on the way. We have to get out of here. We need to be fast.’ He held her gaze, his blue eyes dark with worry. ‘Stay with me – no matter what happens, OK?’
Allie, who had no intention of letting him out of her sight again, nodded vigorously. ‘I promise.’
Taking her hand, he bent down low as they left the shelter and slipped into the chilly sea. Fear had heightened Allie’s senses – she thought she could see things moving in the water; feel them brushing against her skin.
As he’d done earlier, Sylvain held her close, propelling them through the waves with strong kicks. But instead of steering towards shore, he headed away from it. Slowly, working against the current, they made their way to the end of the rock jetty, and then around it to the other side.
Here, no beautiful beach greeted them. The unsheltered coastline had been battered by waves and wind and allowed to become overgrown with scrub trees and weeds.
Somewhere in the distance she heard shouts. Sylvain’s arm tightened around her. Gritting his teeth, he kicked harder. With the waves at their back they glided swiftly towards the shore.
As soon as they reached the shallows, they stood and ran. Sylvain held her hand in a tight grip as they stumbled out of the sea, fighting the force of the waves tugging at their legs as if to hold them back.
When they reached the cluster of boulders that shielded the cove, they stopped to catch their breath. The relentless sunlight bleached the scene in front of them, tinting it all with hazy gold.
From the rocks, Allie could see their guards’ SUVs. Just beyond that a flash of bright red – Sylvain’s motorcycle.
Shouts erupted in the distance. Unfamiliar voices hurled French words at each other. Allie couldn’t see anyone – the guards had to be in the rocks.
‘Shh …’ Sylvain held up his hand as he listened. Then he turned to her, his eyes urgent. ‘They’re making a move. Get ready.’
Footsteps pounded across the hard sand. More shouts. A shot was fired.
He pulled at her hand. ‘Now.’
Taking off at a run, they hurtled across the sand. Thorny scrub bushes scratched at Allie’s legs, sharp shells cut into her bare feet, but she ignored them, pushing herself to run faster.
The sun turned the sand a brutal white. Her breath burned in her throat.
Ahead of them the motorcycle was like a beacon.
Red. Stop. Danger.
Then they were there. Sylvain leaped on to the bike, reaching back to help her climb on behind him. Shouts erupted behind them and he threw the helmets to the ground – there was no time.