The drivers on hire were big burly men, well versed in personal protection. Swanny had no doubt they were packing as well, and it gave him a measure of relief that they had two extra men on Eden’s protection detail.
While his gut wasn’t screaming, it wasn’t exactly quiet tonight and he couldn’t pinpoint why. This was precisely why it didn’t pay to become personally involved with a client. It could be that he didn’t want her on display for dozens of wealthy men to salivate over. It could be that there was a real danger to her.
Things had been too quiet ever since Eden’s brush with death when a sniper had taken a shot at her, and if Big Eddie Sinclair was to be believed—and the man was not prone to overexaggeration or bouts of hysteria—a very real threat lurked in the shadows, waiting and watching for an opportunity to enact his revenge against Eddie.
They weaved through busy Paris traffic the short distance to the upscale bar and restaurant that offered a private room. Swanny had already been over with his team to see exactly what they were dealing with.
They’d marked areas in the room Eden was to never be in. Where she’d present an easy target from a sniper shooting through a window. They also arranged for one of them to tail Eden the entire night, and she wasn’t to go to the ladies’ room without Skylar and Swanny to escort her, with Skylar going in while Swanny manned the door, temporarily shutting off access until Eden had exited.
They’d prepared well for the event. So why was his gut eating a hole in his insides?
Eden reached over and slid her long slender fingers through his much larger ones, his hand engulfing hers. As if sensing his sudden turmoil, she smiled sweetly and leaned over to kiss him, uncaring that Edge sat on her other side.
“Relax,” she murmured. “What could possibly go wrong when I have Superman protecting me? I trust you, Swanny. You won’t let anyone hurt me.”
Her words settled over him, warm and comforting, but they did nothing to dissipate his sudden agitation.
The closer they got to the restaurant where the soiree was being hosted, the more twisted up he got inside. He knew he could very well jeopardize Eden’s career or her account with Aria if he f**ked this up for her, but he could ignore it no longer. Her life was worth far more than some million-dollar cosmetics campaign. At least to him it was. Damn anyone else.
“Turn around,” he barked into the small mouthpiece affixed strategically to his collar. “Abort. Abort, goddamn it.”
To the driver’s credit, he didn’t hesitate. He executed a perfect J-turn in the middle of traffic and Swanny caught sight of the car carrying Nathan, Skylar and Joe doing the same, falling in behind them.
“What’s up, Swanny?” Joe asked tersely. “What’s going on?”
“My gut is screaming like a motherfucker, that’s what,” Swanny said sharply.
Radio went silent. They were all preparing for the worst. No one on his team doubted his gut, as ridiculous as it might sound. It was just another reason he fit in so well with his teammates.
“What you feeling, man?” Edge murmured from his place on Eden’s other side. True to Edge’s nature, he never hesitated. He was always prepared for anything. He already had a gun pulled and was reaching for the other from the opposite shoulder harness.
“It’s wrong,” Swanny muttered. “It’s all goddamn wrong.”
“Swanny?” Eden whispered.
He turned to Eden, expecting anger or even outrage that he’d pulled the plug on what was a very important night for her, but all he saw were eyes wide with fear. Whether she was conscious of it or not, she was gripping both his and Edge’s hands, her knuckles as white as the color in her face.
“What’s wrong? What should I do? Tell me so I don’t get in the way.”
He admired her calm when she had to be scared to death. Swanny knew he wasn’t exactly a pillar of reassurance at the moment, his features locked in stone and examining every single car, person, business as they barreled by.
He carefully squeezed her hand and then reluctantly let it go. He needed both hands, not just one.
“You stay behind me at all times,” Swanny said as calmly as he was able when his insides were screaming that Eden was in danger. “If for whatever reason you can’t get to me, you stick to Edge. He’ll protect you. Do not, and I repeat, do not present an open target. If you can’t take cover behind me or Edge, then you hit the ground behind the vehicle.
“This car has bulletproof glass and a reinforced steel frame. It will withstand an impact that would demolish most other cars. You have your seat belt on?”
She nodded, her eyes still wide.
“Good girl. Now try to keep calm so I can get you back to safety.”
No sooner had the words escaped his mouth when the world simply exploded around them. The front end of the car lifted, nearly flipping it over backward before slamming back to the road, fire and smoke billowing from the front.
The driver’s head was lolled to the side and Swanny reached up to check for a pulse, all the while gathering Eden to his side in preparation for escape.
“What the f**k?” Edge yelled hoarsely. “That was a f**king RPG!”
“Driver’s dead,” Swanny said grimly. “Everyone out on my side! The shot came from the right. Eden, as soon as I pull you out, you hit the street and don’t move until you’re told. Nathan and Joe will cover you.”
“Swanny, you’re bleeding,” Eden said, a hitch in her voice. “And where are you going?”
“I’m going after the motherfucker who attacked us.”
“I’ve got your six,” Edge said.
“One, two, three, go go go!” Swanny urged, kicking open the damaged back door and pulling Eden to the street, shoving her down roughly so she didn’t present a target.
Nathan, Joe and Skylar ran up, guns drawn, cursing a blue streak.
“Cover Eden,” Swanny barked. “Edge and I are going after this f**ker. Do not let anything happen to her.”
“We won’t, man,” Nathan said softly. “I’ve been in your shoes. I know how it feels. We’ll take care of your girl.”
Swanny shot him a look of gratitude and then ran down the street, his tux disheveled and blood-smeared. With the way people ducked and ran he must have looked like an angel of wrath, bent on the destruction of everything in his line of sight.
Mentally he went over those first moments when the world had gone all to hell. The driver had suffered a direct hit but the shot had come from the right side, not the left. And why the driver? The assassin could have just as easily targeted the backseat and they might or might not have survived. The car was reinforced, and for the sole purpose of protection, but not many vehicles outside the military could withstand a direct hit from a rocket-propelled grenade.