Delgano: The Intro - Page 109

Possibly, because he was the first person she’d seen, she crawled until she was plastered to Lattimore’s frame. Lattimore wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a light, reassuring squeeze, followed by equally reassuring strokes.

These men really weren’t there to kill her, and when the realization hit her, she nearly burst into tears. The only word that could have adequately described the last several years was “terror.” The terror had hit her at different intervals, and with varying levels of intensity, but it had remained a constant companion. Now, for the first time since Adrían and Morocco, she felt safe.

Julien gestured to the third man. “This is Pozza. Can you repeat what you just told us?”

Pozza’s gaze locked onto hers.

“There’s a man after me,” she repeated. “Super light blond hair, gray eyes, tall. Scars on his cheek and neck. He’s probably wearing a white suit. He’s an assassin, and he’s been looking for me for the last seven years. He’s very dangerous, and he likes knives. You three have to be careful.”

“What is name?” Pozza asked.

She cringed. “Sayeda.”

“Sayeda, you have sister?”

“No, not that I know of.”

Satisfied with the answer, he left.

Fingers brushed her elbow, and she turned, facing Lattimore and his smile. For as long as she lived, she knew she would never forget this man. The very moment she thought it would be her last day on earth, he was the one who’d stepped in to save her.

“Can you stand?” he asked, rising. “Are you hurt?”

She took his hand and let him help her to her feet. “I’m not hurt.”

“You’re safe, Sayeda.”

“And I’ll make sure you stay that way,” Julien added.

With how Julien looked and how strapped he was, he was definitely intelligent and capable—unlike Spettro. Spettro was probably dead somewhere, and she wouldn’t be surprised if it was Adrían who killed him. Adrían, who she still thought about almost daily. Adrían, whose face she saw in every man she came across.

“We’ll take you to a safe location,” Julien continued, headed for the door. “You can stay there as long as you like, or I can help relocate you again. Just say the word, and I’ll get you all the travel documents you need.”

“I…I ran out of lifelines.”

“You have our protection for as long as you need it,” Lattimore offered.

She didn’t release him.

An SUV waited in front of the house. Lattimore helped inside, but when he went to let go of her hand, she latched on tighter. Instead of arguing or pulling away, he climbed in beside her.

Pozza returned from checking the perimeter of the house, and then he and Julien climbed into the vehicle. Watching them—the way they moved, the way they silently collaborated, the weapons—she was hit with a wave of familiarity. “Atlas” never told her what he did, but this wasn’t a group of men. This was a team, a brotherhood.

Julien pulled out of the dirt driveway and started down the road. There was nothing at the house she needed to take, nothing she couldn’t leave behind. The restaurant dream would have to be further postponed, but it was better than having Novi string her up on meathooks.

“Oh, Sayeda,” Julien called, glancing in the rearview mirror, “you never said what you wanted to do.”

She rested her head on Lattimore’s arm.

Still, he didn’t push her away.

This time, she did start crying, and he offered her soft, comforting words. Based on the way he handled her, they’d done this before; they’d probably already expected her to break down. Novi had been so close—the closest he’d gotten in the last seven years.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“No, it’s all right,” Lattimore and Julien replied.

Julien added, “My wife’s pregnant with our second child, and we have a little girl. It’s a house full of tears at this point.”