LITMIR.BIZ

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and they were off.

      “Jail break accomplished,” he said to himself, ticking off tasks to be completed. It was an old habit. He turned to the doctor who looked pale as a bleached sheet. “Are you doing all right?”

      She shot him a look of disbelief that he would ask such a ridiculous question. “I have been abducted at gunpoint. No, I am not well at all.” She swallowed hard, almost gulped. “Do you mean to…kill me?” she added, still defiant.

      Her bravery, useless as it was, touched something in Jack. She was so totally defenseless and yet she refused to cower. A kitten backed against a wall, facing a bulldog, ready to claw for all she was worth if attacked. He felt faintly ashamed of himself. “Did I hurt you when I disarmed you?”

      She flexed her wrist. Faint red marks discolored the pale ivory of her flesh where he had grasped it to relieve her of the syringe. She tucked that hand beneath the other and began rubbing the wrist slowly, absently. “No, but you did not answer my question.”

      “I have no plans at present to harm you at all if you cooperate. You’ve not asked me once to release you since we escaped. Why is that?”

      Her gaze left him as she glanced into the back seat. “There is René. He needs continued care and I doubt you intend to give it. What do you plan to do with him?”

      “Take him home to his father,” Jack told her. “What happened to Dr. Micheaux?”

      “I am Dr. Micheaux,” she replied with a haughty look. “Solange Micheaux.”

      Damn. The daughter of the other doctor. He remembered a mention of her in Micheaux’s dossier, but nothing about her working at Baumettes. “Where is your father today?”

      She refused to answer.

      “He was supposed to be there and had promised to help,” Jack said, hoping that might gain him a little cooperation.

      “You lie! My father would never assist in such a thing.”

      “This is more than a run-of-the-mill escape, Doctor. Now where is your father?”

      Her frown deepened, and she remained silent for a minute before answering. “In Paris.”

      “Why wasn’t he at the prison today?”

      She sighed. “He is in Broussais Hospital. He was injured in an accident yesterday morning.”

      Either the team had not heard anything about this development or hadn’t been able to get word of it to him in his cell. “What happened?” Jack asked. “And are you certain it was an accident?

      He heard her swift intake of breath. “He…he was hit by an automobile as he crossed the street. You…you are saying it was not an accident?”

      “No. It probably was,” Jack said, but he was far from sure of the answer. “How badly was he hurt?”

      She glanced out the window and continued to rub her hands together. “Broken femur, a concussion, bruises. He will recover.” Then she faced Jack, her eyes imploring. “Let me go to him. We can take René there, as well. You could leave us at the emergency entrance and be well away in no time. I promise—”

      “Save your breath,” he said, interrupting her. “That’s not going to happen. I have to get René to his father no later than tomorrow. Do you know where he lives? Has the boy told you?”

      “You do not even know where you are to go?”

      Jack almost laughed. “Of course I know. I need to know if you know already. If René has said anything at all to you about his home or his family.”

      She sighed, then looked out the window at the passing scenery. “No. René has not been living with his father. The boy has rooms near the Sorbonne where he attends classes,” she muttered, as if to herself.

      Jack nodded. “Art student. Has he talked about his family? His father in particular?”

      “Not to me and Father did not mention his discussing anything of that nature.” Her interest in the passing landscape ended abruptly as she turned that electrifying blue gaze on him again. “Why all of these questions?”

      “I’ll tell you later. What of you, Dr. Micheaux? Will you tell me about yourself?”

      “Why should I?”

      “Because I ask.”

      She scoffed. “You already know my name and who my father is. Even that is too much.”

      “I am Jacques Mercier. Now you know mine. I was imprisoned to await trial. Wouldn’t you like to know why?”

      “No. It is nothing to do with me. Are you attempting to cultivate the Stockholm Syndrome with this foolish exchange of information? I promise you I will never become attached to an abductor no matter how friendly you try to be.”

      She faced away from him again. “Stop looking at me that way.”

      Jack hadn’t realized he was making her even more uncomfortable. It would be difficult not to look at her. She was something to see, that was for sure.

      He should try to put her at ease, as much as he could. “You’re very brave, that much I already know. Instead of a mere profession, you have a calling, I believe. Anyone else would be begging me for their freedom. Instead, you are willing to go along to care for our young friend in the back seat. Are you afraid?” He knew she was terrified, but he also knew she would never admit it.

      “Of course I am afraid,” she confessed, surprising him. “Only a fool would not fear you. I saw what you did to that guard.”

      “I could easily have killed him,” Jack said in a slightly defensive tone.

      “I know,” she replied, not quite hiding a shiver.

      He could see that that thought relieved her only a little. “You need not worry about rape, either,” he told her. “I believe I can restrain my animal instincts.”

      She tried to cover her relief with a mirthless laugh. “I have offended you by thinking you might?”

      “Do you care whether I am offended?”

      She didn’t bother to answer. Jack knew she cared. She had to worry if she had made him angry, that he might change his mind and show her who was boss here.

      “You’re safe with me,” he said, and meant it, too. Not just about his leaving her alone physically. He felt a need to protect her, even from the worry she must be feeling at the moment.

      For an instant he considered stopping the car in the next village they reached and letting her go. Bad idea, and he couldn’t imagine why he had even thought of doing it. There was the mission to consider, and she was crucial to the success of it. Without her help, the plan would fall apart before it got underway.

      That had been the point of waiting until the doctor was with the boy to take him. The problem was that her father had eagerly agreed to help with this. The man had experience in this sort of enterprise, had worked with intelligence before. The daughter had no clue what was going on.

      “We’ll have to lie low for a day,” he said, knowing she would assume the police would be giving chase. There would be no all-points bulletin on them, of course. Holly Amberson could take care of that with a few choice phone calls and a bit of hacking with her magic laptop.

      “Open the glove compartment and get the phone,” he commanded.

      After eyeing him with suspicion for a few seconds, she complied. He took it from her before she could punch in any numbers and pressed the precoded digit.

      When Holly answered, he kept his message brief and to the point. “We have a substitute. See that Dr. Solange Micheaux is officially listed on emergency leave. Arrange for someone to handle her duties and cover for her. Her father is an accident victim, a patient at Broussais. Check on his condition.” He paused. “And make sure it really was an accident.”

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