Page 71 of French Escapade

Ken

Never. We must never let our guard down. Never.

I know it, and yet I was taken by surprise.

Everything was going back to normal.

We had Madison. Drugged up and possibly in shock, but alive.

We also had Arkady. Wounded. Harmless.

That’s what I thought.

Andrea and I underestimated him. We should have known better. No one climbs so high up in the ranks of the Russian mob without being very resourceful and resilient.

I only realized what was happening when, from the corner of my eye, I saw Jimmy and Ted raise their weapons. I was busy putting Madison on one of the garden chairs. I had my back to Arkady. I barely had time to turn around before Élodie jumped on me. That’s when I heard the first shot, followed by two more, less than a second apart.

Flat on the ground, Élodie on top of me, I’m thinking the chances of getting any intel from Arkady are slimmer than slim. No one can be lucky enough to survive two instinctive shots from those two.

“Target down,”Ted and Jimmy yell together.

“Disarmed,” Andrea calls out a second later.

Tenderly, I rest my hand on Élodie’s shoulder.

“All good, we can get up now.”

Nothing.

“Élodie?” I raise my voice, but she remains still.

“Don’t move,” Ted says as he comes nearer.

If she’s been hit, I’m not going to move a muscle and risk making it worst.

Ever so slowly, he looks at Élodie’s back.

“Nothing here,” he says. He turns to Jimmy. “Let’s flip her.”

Cautiously they move her to the side. Resting on my forearms, I see her wince and start to breathe again. Being in pain is good—it means she’s alive.

They finish flipping her around to put her on her back. Two seconds later, I’m kneeling by her side.

A quick exam confirms what Ted just said. “No visible wound on this side, either.”

“I think she took a bullet in the chest,” Andrea says.

Slowly, I unstrap the sides of her vest and unbutton her shirt. Right under her bra, I find the trace left by the impact. With the tips of my fingers, I check her ribs. Nothing seems to be broken, but we need an x-ray to be sure.

Élodie moans and opens her eyes. “Don’t move,” I tell her. “You passed out after taking a bullet in your vest. I think the shock knocked your breath out.”

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a tank,” she says raising a hand.

The very second her fingers reach the spot, which is already starting to turn black, she frowns. “Don’t move,” I repeat. “I’m going to close your shirt. I just wanted to make sure…”

“I get it,” she says with a smile. She starts to laugh, but the pain cuts that short.

“She must have hit her head,” Jimmy offers. Obviously, like me, he doesn’t see what’s funny.

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