Chasing Lies

by Sara Claridge

  The sound of metal swishing against metal filled her with dread.

  “Last. Fucking. Chance.” A blade glinted in his hand.

  Perhaps he did understand the insult.

  He raised his hand towards her, and instinctively Kate lifted her arm to ward him off, but he was too quick. He slit the strap of her bag and pulled. She grabbed the bag and pulled back. No way was she going to lose everything to some lout.

  “Hey!” A shout from behind halted their struggle, and the little shit took advantage of her momentary distraction and yanked the bag out of her hands. But in his rush to cycle off, his spokes became entangled with his cohort, and Kate seized the chance to clutch her bag back. As they tugged at either end of the strap, the bag fell open and spewed its contents across the grass.

  Someone shouted again, and at the sound of heavy footsteps, her assailants cycled off into the gloom, having seen for themselves that she wasn’t lying about having nothing of value in her bag. Her breath came in rapid bursts. The shock and the rush of adrenalin from the encounter hit her stomach in a wave of nausea.

  The hand on her shoulder was almost her undoing.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “ARE YOU OKAY?”

  Kate turned around. A gasp fell from her lips. Her saviour was none other than Etienne Castel. Please let the ground open up and swallow her now. No wonder she hadn’t spotted him in the foyer today. He looked completely different.

  Gone was the elegant, suave, international businessman of yesterday. In his place was someone far more rugged looking. Dangerous, even. But rather than run, she felt compelled to take a step closer.

  She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Shock. That must be the reason for her sudden loss of words. Although it was hard to say which had shocked her more—the kids or being rescued by Castel.

  Embarrassed by her inability to form a coherent sentence, Kate scrambled to the ground and grabbed her bag. The contents were strewn all over the place, but at least her purse was still there. She fumbled in the semi-darkness to pick up the debris as he crouched down beside her and handed over her lipstick and packet of tissues.

  “Did they get anything?”

  Kate took a deep breath and willed her voice to sound steady. “No. I’ve already lost my passport today.”

  He frowned as he picked up something off the ground. “Are you sure? There’s a passport here.”

  “There is?” Elation flooded her. Finally, something was going her way. “Thank god. I wonder why I couldn’t find it before.”

  Suspicion clouded her mind as she took the passport from him. Wasn’t it all just a bit too convenient that her passport had miraculously appeared? She flicked it open to double check. Her photo stared back at her.

  “Thanks.” Kate averted her gaze and concentrated instead on making sure that she placed the passport in the zipped compartment of her handbag this time. She could feel his gaze on her as he stood up. The prickles on the back of her neck had nothing to do with the recent exchange with the kids from hell.

  Unable to delay standing any longer, she rose to her feet. As she brushed the dirt from her knees, she accidentally knocked his outstretched hand out of the way. “Sorry.”

  “De rien.” He held out his hand again. “Etienne Castel.”

  She glanced up at him and met his gaze. It didn’t waiver. His impassive expression gave nothing away. For a moment, the introduction stunned her. She’d expected him to lie. Not give his real name.

  “Kate Jackson.” There was no point lying about hers. If he had taken her passport, he knew it already. She placed her hand in his, and as his warm fingers curled around hers, an unwanted frisson of awareness shot through her.

  “Enchanté.” That low tone and soft French accent would have a lesser woman melting towards him. It was a good thing she was impervious to criminals. He was probably just playing the role of a charming Frenchman, while laughing his head off at her naivety.

  She reigned in her temper and cocked her head at him. It wouldn’t do to totally lose it and give him the upper hand anymore than she had already. From what she read in Carl’s file of Etienne Castel, it was a battle of wits that would win the day, not muscle. Although if the way his jacket fitted was anything to go by, he wasn’t too shabby in that department, either.

  Should she continue the charade? Speak to him as if they were both strangers meeting for the first time in a foreign land?

  “You’re French?” A wave of embarrassment swept through her. Was that really the best she could come up with on short notice?

  “Oui. Or at least half. My father is French, but my mother is Spanish.”

  She knew that, too. From the reports she probably knew more about him than he did himself. This was a pointless conversation. One for which she was hopelessly unprepared. Perhaps it explained the amused look he was giving her. She loosened her coat collar a little to release some of the pent up heat his gaze was generating.

  The action just made her more exasperated with herself. She was supposed to be Miss Cool and Collected on a job, not a bumbling idiot. But his closeness made her nervous, which was irritating beyond belief.

  “Are you okay?”

  Kate gave what she hoped was a grateful smile. “Yes, I’m fine. A little embarrassed to have been mugged by someone nearly half my age, but”—she shrugged her shoulders—“it could have been worse.”

  His gaze left her as he glanced up and down the path, and she was momentarily glad. Darkness might be closing in, but his eyes seemed to miss nothing. It was as if he was waiting for her to slip up.

  It was only as he craned his neck to see around the bend in the path further along that she realised he was checking their surroundings. It hadn’t even occurred to her that someone might come back for a second try.

  “What were you doing coming into the park in the first place? It’s nearly dark. You were asking for trouble.”

  The question annoyed her. Even if he did have a point. Another person who thought she wasn't up to the job. As if she’d tell him, anyway. She blanked her expression as she looked up at him. If he thought she was an idiot, perhaps she shouldn't disappoint him.

  “I think I just got a bit turned around with losing my passport. I was going to head back to my hotel and thought this would be short cut, but I realise now that I’m mistaken.”

  Was that a flash of guilt that crossed his face? She hoped so. Losing her passport had taken years off her life, and she couldn’t help but think he’d had a hand in it.

  “Which hotel are you staying at? Perhaps I can escort you back?”

  He really did think she was born yesterday.

  “That’s very kind of you but really there’s no need. If you point me in the direction of Vrijthof, I can find my own way.”

  “I’m heading that way now, so we can walk together.”

  He held out the crook of his arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to take it. To her own chagrin, she found herself slipping her hand through and grasping his forearm.

  Well, he had saved her, after all, and perhaps she could use a little of her own charm to learn something new. Carl often said she’d get further trying to butter people up than acting like her normal bull in china shop self.

  “Jackson. That’s Scottish, n’est pas?”

  “The name is. I’m not.”

  Even though she’d been born in Edinburgh, she never thought of herself as Scottish. Her mother had taken the pair of them to London years ago in a bid to disappear and leave behind the violence and criminality that filled every aspect of their life. But with no money, no job, and a young child, escape hadn’t been so easy.

  “So your father was Scottish?”

  What was it with the questions? What difference did it make? Jackson wasn’t even her real name. Well, it was real enough. Just not the one she’d been given at birth.

  “I don’t know who my father is.”

  Or at least she wasn’t prepared to discuss it, wi
th anyone. He’d been wiped from her life by the new identity supplied to her after the death of her mother. She might have only been eleven at the time, but she understood she was better off as Kate Jackson.

  What was a name, anyway? What mattered was who you were inside.

  They walked along in silence for a few moments. As the edge of the park came into sight with the glow from the streets beyond, she breathed a sigh of relief. How was she going to get rid of him? Her cover was blown. There was no way she could continue to follow him now that he’d seen her. He’d been her best lead, too. Or, rather, he’d been Carl’s best lead.

  Her mind conjured up the image of Carl in the hospital earlier, taking her through the file from memory. Presuming, of course, that she would be passing the information back to head office or to his replacement.

  Could Castel be responsible for putting him in the hospital? The thought made her miss a step and slide on the wet leaves. She was hauled up fast by his strong arms and willed herself not to panic at the sudden imprisonment.

  “Careful, the path is slippery in this weather.” He released his steely grip on her upper arms but kept a gentle touch as if to check that she wouldn’t slide again.

  Kate took a deep breath to calm her nerves and gave him a shaky smile. She was being ridiculous. If he’d put Carl in the hospital, then surely he would have left her at the mercy of the gang of youths earlier, not saved her.

  “Okay?”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. He might not be holding her anymore, but she’d made no attempt to move away. If only he didn’t smell so good this close.

  Castel turned and offered her his arm again. Such an old-fashioned gesture, surely there was no harm in seeing where it led. She looked up into his unfathomable gaze, and her heartbeat sped up. But lust was a dangerous attraction. Especially when it involved Etienne Castel.

  ETIENNE GLANCED DOWN at the heart shaped face framed by thick, dark strands of hair. She was a brave little thing. In some circles that would’ve been enough to get her killed.

  He raised his chin and looked around at the darkening gloom. Back in the quietness of the park, it would’ve been simple enough.

  She didn’t take his proffered arm this time. Instead she stepped away, drawing his attention back to her.

  “Well, this is where we part. I need to go and buy a new bag.” She held up her two straps as if to emphasise the point. “I really can’t thank you enough for your help back there.”

  Etienne raised an eyebrow at her outstretched hand. “Sérieusement?”

  She tilted her head quizzically.

  “We’re going to say goodbye like strangers when I know perfectly well where your hotel is and you mine.”

  Her eyes widened. Her startled gaze confirmed she was indeed a novice, but for which side? Another time he might have given her a little leeway, but Mercier was unforgiving. Going up against one of Europe’s deadliest criminals needed someone with nerves of steel.

  “Alors. Who is it you work for, Mercier?”

  “Mercier?” Bewilderment filled her voice and her brow creased in confusion.

  Relief washed over him. He shouldn’t have volunteered the name, but he wanted to see her reaction. If she had known Mercier, he would’ve needed to take steps to get rid of her. The element of surprise was crucial to this operation, and having his every move reported beforehand would be less than ideal.

  She straightened up a little, as if he’d insulted her. “I don’t mix with criminals.”

  His lips twisted in a wry smile. She knew enough to recognise Mercier for what he was. “Yet here you are talking to me.”

  A blush crept up her cheeks. Well, that confirmed she’d read his file. So she probably was insurance. He should have guessed. Cutting corners, skimping on training. It was a wonder that art thieves even worried about them anymore.

  “That’s different. I could hardly shun you after you saved me from being mugged.”

  “You still think they were after your purse?” Etienne shook his head. “You’re more naive than I first thought. It wasn’t a random attack. What were you doing there?”

  “None of your business.”

  She tried to step around him, but he held out an arm to block the way. He didn’t need to grab hold of her. Intimidation was often better if the threat was left to the person’s imagination.

  Besides, he’d already felt the weight of her sleight frame as it pressed against him when she’d slipped in the park. She’d be no match for him, if he didn’t want her to get away.

  She turned her head and stared at him. They were so close he could see her pulse flicking at the side of her neck. Fast and erratic. She was nervous. Some of it could be attributed to him barricading her, but he’d swear she was hiding something else.

  “We both know I’m not going to let you go until you answer.” He kept his voice quiet and threatening.

  She looked around. The street was deserted. Probably only momentarily and then she’d be able to call on the help of bystanders. But for the moment it worked to his advantage.

  A sigh of resignation left her lips. “Meeting someone who supposedly had information on a painting.”

  “See, now we’re getting somewhere.” He dropped his arm. “Don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence that you go to meet someone and he doesn’t show but, a group of kids on bikes with knives does?”

  She rounded on him. Annoyance radiated off of her in waves. Perhaps his presence hadn’t been as intimidating as he’d thought.

  “I think it’s a coincidence that you turn up just as someone is threatening me and I suddenly find my lost passport.” Her index finger jabbed him in the chest. “How do I know you weren’t planning to mug me?”

  He snatched her finger to stop the prodding and leant towards her. “Because your inexperience makes getting information so much easier than resorting to violence.”

  “Okay, you made your point. You think I’m an idiot.”

  He released her finger. “I don’t think it…”

  Her glare should have worried him, but he was having too much fun riling her up. Eyes blazing, the colour high on her cheeks, it sparked something inside of him. His gaze dropped to her lips just as she spoke.

  “So how does Mercier fit in?”

  Frustration replaced the ripple of excitement. He should never have mentioned the name. Etienne turned and continued to walk back towards the buzz of Vrijthof. The footsteps hurrying after him weren’t a surprise.

  “What? It’s okay for you to ask questions, but not me?”

  “The less you know, the better.”

  She placed a hand on his arm to make him pause. “For you or for me?”

  He looked down at her. “For both of us.” A war raged inside of him. One part didn’t want the hassle of keeping track of someone so in experienced. The other side of him wanted whatever it was she had.

  His gaze roamed over her body. All of it.

  “Yeah, well, my boss won’t buy that. If we’re sharing information, then it’s quid pro quo. Otherwise I’m keeping mum.”

  “Keeping mum?” It was all Etienne could do not to roll his eyes. She really was a piece of work. “How quaint. The last time I saw that it was on a World War Two poster. Are you saying you aren’t the one that’s not so dumb?”

  Her sharp intake of breath confirmed the insult had hit home. Good. Hopefully she’d take the hint and leave him well alone. At least it would take the decision out of his control. He shook off her hand and continued walking.

  She fell into step beside him. “God, you’re annoying.”

  “The same could be said of you.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help.”

  Etienne stopped walking and turned towards her. In the lamplight, her pale complexion looked even more fragile. He couldn’t get a hold on her—was she a novice or playing him? He must be losing it if he couldn’t tell. His instincts were normally bang on the money. They’d gotten him out of trouble more times than he cared to thi
nk about, and yet now he felt as if he was walking towards danger and enjoying every moment of it.

  He blew out a sigh of frustration. “So tell me. Left to your own devices, what would you have done?”

  “Stood my ground. They were only trying to scare me.”

  “It looked like they were doing a fine job from my viewpoint.”

  “Yeah? Well, I have news for you. I don’t scare easily. It will take more than a bunch of kids to terrorise me.”

  She tried to place the strap of her bag over her shoulder, but before she could complete the action, the bag sagged to the pavement. It would have been comical if it didn’t underline exactly how sharp the knife had been.

  Undeterred, she raised her chin and glared at him. “If you hadn’t scared them off, I might have learnt something.”

  Anger shot through him, and he came to an abrupt stop, facing her once again. “What did you expect me to do? Nothing?” Did she not understand the danger she might have been in? “It’s not as if we were strangers. Not after you’d followed me most of yesterday.”

  Her eyes widened and her lips fell open slightly. Despite her bravado, it was obvious she wasn’t as thick skinned as most of the other operatives he came across.

  A passerby turned to stare at them. He lowered his voice so as not to attract any more attention. “So what is it you’ve got?”

  “What do you mean?” she hissed back.

  Taking her by the elbow, he started to walk, guiding her further along the street. “They weren’t mugging you for your money.”

  Annoyance flitted across her face. “You saw what was in my bag. It was scattered all over the path.”

  “So what were you going to provide in exchange?”

  “Exchange for what?”

  Etienne sighed. He might sense a vulnerability in her, but that didn’t make his job any easier. “The information that the person was going to give you.”

  “Maybe he was doing it out of the goodness of his heart.” She flashed him a sarcastic smile. “Not everyone wants something in exchange, you know.”

  “Perhaps he was hoping to take what you’ve got for free.”