The sun was sinking below the horizon, and the water of the Seine shimmered with gentle shades of oranges and reds. The romantic sky that filled the hearts of the lovers on the streets of Paris with glow looked bloody for George Robinson as his private jet was landing.
"You better pray…" George couldn't finish his sentence.
"He'd never lay a hand on her," Dimitri's shaky confirmation did nothing for George's troubled heart.
The two of them arrived in Paris after tracking Dimitri's number, a car was waiting in the airport the second they descended, and a sharp looking driver stood with three of George's men waiting for the young Mr. Robinson, their eyes almost bulged out when they saw the state of his face as he made his way out. The face of the man who walked a step behind him looked equally bad. They were both blue and purple, swollen and full of bloody cuts that were unattended to.
