THE THING THAT snaps me from my long-buried memory is Timothée. He's snapping something in French at one of the guys who nods and signals some of the others to join him. I watch, feeling a little disoriented, as they climb onto their motorcycles, rev their engines and pull out of the abandoned-looking parking lot we're in.
I'm not fluent in French, but I've been around Sinclair enough to pick up a few things. Most of them are not safe for work, but some are usable in everyday conversation. Sinclair's name, the words elle est ici. My blood runs kind of cold as I realize what he's doing. That he's telling Sinclair where I am knowing that he'll come here immediately.
I don't have a lot of time. I need to get Timothée to see reason before Sinclair gets here. I hope and pray that Sinclair com
