Page 52 of Inside the Maelstrom: Part One
Sampson’s hand ran up and down my spine, and I was pressed tightly to his chest as he spoke to the police on his phone. Quickly, the blue flashing lights and high-pitched siren of the police cars arrived.
I looked around Sampson’s shoulders and noticed that Evan had the guy facedown on the ground, which had to be gross. Two French policemen hopped out of the car, and Otto detangled himself to go speak to the police. “I’ll make a statement. Take her back to the hotel. Evan and I will grab the car and meet you back there.”
Sampson nodded, hailing a cab down, and Hendrick just watched Otto go. “It makes me so fucking hot when he’s all authorative like that. I want to tell him ‘fuck you’ because he’s not my boss, but on the flip side, I kind of want him to fuck me at the same time.”
A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled out of my throat, and I could see Sampson roll his eyes in the moonlight. He hustled us both into the car, Hendrick squashing me close to his side. Sampson gave the cab driver the address of the apartment, and the driver grunted. Guess that meant he knew where it was.
The guys squished closer to me than necessary, but I didn’t care. I was still clutching my purse and it wasn’t until I dropped it in my lap that I realized I was shaking. Actually, my whole body was shaking. I’d almost fucking died; Otto had been right.
My breathing became labored and the walls of the car seemed to creep in. Sampson leaned forward. “I will give you an extra hundred euros if you can get us there in less than ten minutes.”
The cab driver grinned, said something in rapid French, and hit the gas.
My breathing was getting choppy again, and it felt like someone had placed a bowling ball on my chest. “I’m having a heart attack,” I wheezed, and Sampson went pale.
“Should we take her to a hospital?”
I felt more than saw Hendrick shaking his head. “She isn’t having a fucking heart attack. She’s having a panic attack. Textbook presentation—I should know. Viva, I’m going to hold your hands, is that okay?” When I nodded, he gripped my hands. “I want you to squeeze them as hard as you can, and we’ll breathe in time.” I was shaking my head, but Hendrick just laced his fingers in mine and pulled them to his lap. “Squeeze. And tell me something. Tell me about Nemo. Tell me how he’s more romantic than I am.”
I heard Sampson’s thumping punch. “Really? This isn’t the right time to stroke your ego.”
“It's the right time all the time,” Hendrick snarked back. “Come on, Viva. Tell us about what you hope for when you find him.”
My thoughts around Nemo were already disorganised, and I shook my head more, still gasping shallowly. “I can’t.”
“That’s okay, Viva. We’re here,” Sampson whispered in my ear. “We will keep you safe. Listen to my voice, feel how certain I am that I will never, ever let anyone harm you. Not even the men I love the most in this world. Iwillprotect you, Good Girl. Always. Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
He stroked his hand up and down my thigh. “Good girl... We’re almost back at the apartment, and then I’m going to tuck you into bed and we’ll pretend this whole night was just a bad dream. Tomorrow, we’ll book a flight for Kolkata, and when we get there, we’ll track down that damn book. I’ve always wanted to go to the flower markets. Do you have a favorite flower?”
“Not magnolia.”
Hendrick snorted, and I remembered that he’d read my file. “Definitely not the magnolia.”
“What is it?”
“Dahlia?”
Sampson made a noise of approval, and it warmed something in my chest. Or maybe cooled the burning heat that was threatening to suffocate me. “Beautiful choice, Good Girl. We will buy enough dahlias to fill the hotel room. Every color they have. Would you like that?”
I was nodding, the panic receding until I no longer felt like I was being strangled.
Hendrick squeezed my hand again, and I realized I’d been flexing my fingers in his. “Ready to breathe with us, beautiful? In...” He sucked in a lungful of air, and I found myself inhaling with him. “And out...” The air whooshed out of my nostrils, and my heart rate calmed a little. We did it a few more times before the cab skidded to a stop outside our apartment building.
“Nine minutes and forty-five seconds,” the cab driver announced, and Hendrick laughed. He slid from the cab as Sampson paid, picking me up in his arms and clutching me to his chest.
The ancient elevator creaked as it reached the top floor, and Sampson unlocked the front door, ushering us in and locking it up tight behind him. Hendrick didn’t even slow his step, walking into the bedroom we’d had sex in earlier and laying me down on the bed. I sat there like an invalid as he pulled off my shoes and socks, peeling off my jacket and lifting my shirt over my head.
“Lift your butt. Holy shit, did you pour yourself into these jeans? They are tiny,” he huffed, tugging them down my thighs. Reaching into the suitcase we were yet to unpack, he pulled out one of his Henleys. “Wear this if you want, beautiful. Or nothing. I’m totally good with nothing too,” he teased, and I couldn’t help but give him a weak smile back.
I scooted up the bed and Hendrick pulled back the blankets for me. Looking over at the doorway, I saw Sampson leaning there, taking in the whole scene with eyes that saw way too much.
Hendrick tugged the soft blanket up to my chin and kissed me on the forehead. “Rest, Viva. It’ll be better in the morning.”
