Chapter 422 He Was Very Nervous About Her
Francis tried to keep it cool, but Harper could still hear a little shake in his voice.
Lucky for him, Victor was the one driving and had schooled him on the rideshare stuff, which really fooled the criminal.
Victor took a sec to check the location, but it only showed the general area around the company, not exactly helpful. They split up to search, and finally, Francis zeroed in on the spot thanks to Harper's cries for help.
Those few minutes were pure hell for him. He even kicked himself for arguing with Harper that morning and being late 'cause of a meeting. He wouldn't dare to imagine if something happened to the woman in his arms.
Francis stopped talking, dropped his head, and hugged her tighter. A tear fell on Harper's dry cheek, making her shiver a bit.
Francis crying again? Even one tear was enough to shock Harper big time. She could feel his heart racing. Was he scared and worried about her?
Right then, she couldn't be cold or hold back. She reached out and hugged him back. Francis' suit wasn't cold anymore; it had a thin layer of warmth. Her fingers slowly tightened, letting herself get lost in that warmth for a moment.
Behind them, the guy with the shifty eyes saw things going south and tried to make a run for it. He barely took a step when Victor, in his suit, grabbed his shoulder and slammed him down hard.
Another scream echoed. The shifty-eyed guy looked up at Victor, who had thrown him down. Victor's strong, muscular build made it clear he wasn't messing around.
Victor stepped on the guy's remaining good hand and yelled, "Spill it. Why'd you do this?"
The shifty-eyed guy howled in pain, his face twisted in an ugly grimace. "I didn't hurt her, just took a little blood..."
He suddenly clammed up.
He remembered the voice on the phone, the one that had threatened him with a fate worse than death if he spilled anything. They'd heard and said plenty of threats, but only that guy's words had ever made him truly scared.
But Victor heard enough and pressed on, "You took her blood? Why?"
Francis' hands suddenly loosened. He looked up at Harper, his eyes cold, and asked, "Did he take your blood?"
Harper, just snapping back to reality, nodded and showed him her finger. "Yeah, he did."
The small puncture had already closed, almost leaving no trace.
Francis' heart sank like a rock. "Sit," he said, taking off his pricey suit and laying it on the ground for her to sit on.
Turning around, his cold, handsome face was clouded with anger. Francis asked, "Where's the blood?"
The shifty-eyed guy shivered at Francis' intensity. This dude looked even more dangerous.
"I don't know..." Before he could finish, Francis' shoe pressed hard on the sleazy guy's mouth! He couldn't speak, only let out a miserable cry.
Francis' eyes burned with rage, slowly moving away just enough to let him talk. He said coldly, "Think carefully about what you say next."
If the fire of anger in Francis' eyes could be tangible, the shifty-eyed guy would have been ashes by now.
But the man over the phone was ruthless too, even more so than Francis. He knew, whether he talked or not, he was a goner.
"The blood was taken by my partner. He's waiting in the car." Ultimately, he caved to the immediate fear and confessed, trembling.
Francis glanced at Victor, who immediately sent someone to check.
Victor stepped in, grabbed the shifty-eyed guy by the neck, and demanded, "Who are you working for? Why'd you take the blood?"
The guy had no clue. He'd never seen the boss, only talked on the phone, and had no idea what the blood was for.
Francis watched for a few seconds, figuring this dude didn't know squat. He said coldly, "Keep an eye on him and call the cops."
Then he turned and scooped Harper up from the ground, carrying her like she was made of glass.
Francis held her like she was the most precious thing in the world, scared she might get hurt. But the fresh cut on his arm started bleeding more from the effort, dripping onto the ground. Harper only noticed when they got in the car. She gasped, "Your hand..."
"It's nothing. Just a scratch," Francis brushed it off.
His eyes were full of urgency as he told the driver to step on it.
Suddenly, a shout came from outside the car. "Stop."
The shifty-eyed guy had hidden a spray bottle, sprayed it into Victor's eyes, and made a break for it.
Harper watched in horror as the guy jumped over the railing.
A screech followed, and the guy flew through the air like a ragdoll after being hit by another car, then hit the ground hard.
Before Harper could get a good look, a pair of warm hands covered her eyes.
"Don't look," Francis said.
Outside, the guy was a bloody mess, limbs all over the place, a gruesome sight.
Victor, barely able to open his eyes, immediately had someone chase down the driver.
Francis' eyes were ice-cold as he ordered, "Hand him over to the cops and dig into the driver's background."
An accident right now? Seemed like someone wanted to shut him up. What was the mastermind up to? Francis' face was as cold as the Arctic. Whatever they wanted, he wasn't giving them a shot.
Instead of the hospital, Francis took Harper straight to Wesley's lab. The gear here was way more advanced, and they'd get results faster.
Wesley's assistant ran a bunch of tests on Harper, including checking for any infections.
Outside, Wesley looked at the cut on Francis' arm, frowned, and said, "Good thing the knife wasn't poisoned. You were so worried about Harper, you didn't even care about yourself."
Francis raised an eyebrow, unfazed, and said, "I'm tough."
Even if it had been poisoned, he'd still protect Harper. It was pure instinct.
Wesley cleaned and bandaged Francis' wound.
"Your blood test showed some weird sequence issues. I've called in a friend, and she'll be back at the base in about two weeks. You need to see her," Wesley said, dead serious.
Francis nodded. "Alright."
Wesley, seeing his casual attitude, was annoyed and said, "This is serious. I'm worried about you."
Wesley didn't buy that Chloe would just poke him with an empty syringe for fun.
Even though the blood test showed nothing, he found some strange sequence after days of studying it. He couldn't figure it out.
The more Wesley thought about it, the angrier he got. "Chloe's a real piece of work, still poking around with needles on her deathbed."
How obsessed could someone be with love!
"Keep it down," Francis reminded him.
"What are you guys talking about?" Harper, done with her check-up, walked out, adjusting her sleeve.
Both men went silent.
Harper looked at Wesley and asked, "Who did Chloe poke?"
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