Page 50 of The Billionaire's Temporary Governess (French Conquests 2)

Mind made up, she decided she would tear off the Band-Aid — There was an explosion, and the limo began to veer crazily, skating from side to side on the quiet country road. A blowout! She’d heard of tires bursting with such force that the cars had crashed, injuring or killing passengers. She threw her arms around Willa, who was still sleeping.

More explosions, and the sound of breaking glass. The limo slowed its crazy spiral.

It didn’t make sense. She looked at the guard beside her with wide eyes; the man was all action now, reaching into his jacket, grasping something, pulling it out.

A gun.

“What—” she began, but the man jerked sideways, slamming into her, his large body made even heavier by the force of the swerving limo. She was aware of the sound of more glass breaking, of a red spray staining the white leather interior.

It was then that she understood they were under attack.

She grabbed Willa, dragging her down to the floor and throwing her body on top of her, stretching herself over the small body as the child began to wake and panic. Still not fully figuring out what was going on.

Then the glass partition above them slid open, and she had to twist her body to look up. She saw a hand holding a gun, and a head poked through it. The next thing she heard was laughter.

It was the most insane, demented sound she had ever heard, and it was coming from Abe.

“I think I’m going to have to reschedule this call,” William said to his client, who was speaking to him via video conference from the United States. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, but I have a family emergency.”

The guy on the other end exchanged glances with his partner seated next to him. They both looked visibly disappointed. But they represented a small startup that desperately needed Liam’s support and buy-in, so they answered politely, struggling to disguise their feelings. “Of course, Mr. Dubois. Thank you for your—”

He didn’t get to finish speaking. Liam had already ended the session and was on his feet, pacing. Where the hell were Naisha and Willa? It was already dark.

He knew this child, Petal, lived almost an hour away, but even that didn’t account for the time they’d lost. Maybe they stopped in town afterwards for pizza or ice cream, but he doubted that, because Willa had spent the past 24 hours stuffing herself to the gills. He’d be surprised if she managed to sip on some broth before bed.

They wouldn’t have gone shopping. Certainly not without calling in to him first. Naisha might be mad at him, but she wasn’t irresponsible.

He looked down at the phone in his hand. Several missed calls to Naisha’s and Willa’s phones. Not like them not to answer.

He knew—in his soul—that something had happened. He punched in the number for Juneau, his head of security, so hard that his finger kept sliding off the glass, and he had to try again.“Du calme, Liam,” he admonished himself. “You’ll do them no good if you lose it now.”

But before he could dial the number a second time, his phone began to ring. He stared at the caller ID incredulously. It was Juneau.

“Speak.”

“Patron,”Juneau began. “I have news.” He hesitated.

“Whatever it is, just say it.” God, he had no time for beating around the bush. Not now, when he was feeling like his internal organs were on fire.

“I received a call from the gendarmes. My men have been found at the side of the road, about twenty kilometers away. Both shot. One of them is dead, Monsieur Dubois.”

There isn’t enough air in this room,Liam thought.Because I’m not getting any.“Willa? Naisha?”

“No sign. The limo is gone.”

He felt a toxic combination of terror and rage build inside him with the speed and ferocity of a seismic event, a lake of molten rock coursing beneath the surface of the earth suddenly being given a chance to escape, to pour itself out and swamp everything. Destroy everything.

“Get over here,” he said. “Now.”

He swung his laptop around to face him and began taping keys. All his vehicles had tracking systems. He just needed to log into the system and—The door blew open, and his mother came running in, looking pink-cheeked and excited. “It’s happening!”

He didn’t even look up. “What, maman?”

“Jacyn! She’s in labor!”

That stopped him, hands frozen over the keys. It was time. Alex’s baby was on the way, and he was about to be an uncle. And yet, he couldn’t feel the sense of rejoicing that he should have.

Not now.

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