Everything else was in his backpack. He knew it was because he’d checked several times before leaving the hostel to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind. Sighing at his own paranoia, he figured if he’d forgotten anything now, then tough shit. He was already sitting on the Eurostar train that was about to transport him to Paris, so he couldn’t go back now. He slipped his mobile out of his pocket and fired a text message to Kristian. On the train now. Text me when you get to Gare du Nord. See you later mate. Flipping the switch to turn his phone onto silent—he wasn’t in the quiet carriage, but he still wasn’t going to be the irritating bastard whose phone went off—he put it back in his pocket and reached for the paperback book on the table. He had about two and a quarter hours to kill, so he relaxed into his seat and opened the book. It was then that he happened to glance up and catch the eye of the woman sitting a few seats down on the opposite side of the train. Examining her further, Ryan came to the conclusion that she was some kind of businesswoman.
