by Michele Hauf
“Yes, thank you.”
Kevin stood and crossed the room to the phone on the yellow wall. Having abandoned his shoes, his jeans slouched over his toes giving him a casual aura. I love a man’s bare feet, especially just peeking out from under soft jeans. If it’s the only bared bit of flesh, I’ll take the feet as opposed to a bared chest. Seriously.
He tapped out a number. “Don’t blame yourself, Jamie. You were doing your job. And you did it well. My men made it to the Gare du Nord with minutes to spare. The Faction hadn’t planned for your further involvement.”
“If you mean being kidnapped, I guess I’m fine. A little light-headed still, but…” I sighed.
“Yes?” He spoke to someone on the other end of the phone. “Verify classified mission 3–7P.”
My mind worked the code with ease. Three and Seven, along with P—must mean the princess.
“Excellent. Thanks.” He hung up. “Miss Sangreito is on a flight to Spain as we speak. Two members of the Faction will accompany her until she’s been safely returned to her family.”
“Really?” I perked. One good thing to be happy for. Something I had helped make happen. This step in the right direction wasn’t all cockeyed.
“It’s over.” He hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of his jeans and wiggled a few bare toes. “You can sleep here for a while. You look tired. I’m not letting you out of the house until you’ve rested.”
“I can’t, I—I just woke up a few hours ago, Kevin. And I really have to be getting back home.”
“You don’t have much choice. Jamie, you’re safe here.”
The word safe echoed inside my mind, softening and fluttering and loosening my tensions. So tempting. But…
“No choice?” My muscles tensed. “What do you mean by that?”
“That’s right, you couldn’t possibly know. There was a fire in your building last night. Likely set by Vital.”
I was stunned; I didn’t care if my mouth hung open. How had that bastard known where I lived? Even Fitch hadn’t known! For that matter…“How do you know where I live?”
“Following you, remember?”
I jumped to my feet and skirted around the beechwood coffee table. “I’ve got to go there.”
“It’s marked off with police tape. Jamie, the entire building is a smoke pot. I drove by it this morning before I located you. You couldn’t gain entry if you wanted.”
All attempts to wrap my brain around everything I’d learned about Kevin and Sacha and my home failed. Numbness embraced my body and my fingers jittered. It wasn’t even noon, and he was suggesting I stick around and take a nap?
“Does chloroform affect your brain?” I wondered, dizzily reaching for my head.
It was the kiss to the corner of my eye that made me smile my first genuine smile in days. I reached out and felt Kevin’s fingers slip through mine. He squeezed. Safe.
“Sit back down, Jamie.”
And I think I did, but I’m not sure if I sat or if Kevin lowered me to the sofa. A flutter of my lashes dusted the moist kiss still perched at the corner of my eye.
Nice guy.
I think I can trust…
Chapter 11
The scent of cinnamon-spiked hot chocolate greeted my sleepy-eyed wakening. Pale afternoon sunlight streamed across the toes of my boots, toppled on the floor near the sofa, and danced on the yellow wall across the room.
This wasn’t my living room. The color was enough to give one a migraine. And I hadn’t suffered those since childhood. Where was I?
A clang from the kitchen alerted me.
Right. You’re napping in a strange man’s home.
Said man having admitted to following me—but not close enough to rescue me, twice over. Which should cause some concern, but now that I recalled my adventures, I figured the drugs were what had really worked a number on me.
What sounded like a frying pan clanged on a gas burner. He must be making something to eat.
Sitting up and swinging my feet from the arm of the sofa to the floor, I shrugged a hand through my tangle of hair. Nature called. I decided to discover the bathroom on my own and so got up and tiptoed past the kitchen. It was down the hall to the right.
The bathroom was a surprise, like a rich Turkish fantasy—in yellow—but gorgeous all the same. A tile-maker’s dream. I touched the gilded tiles surrounding the medicine chest and the door swung freely open. Not much inside. Shaving cream and razor. No noticeable fungus creams—a good thing. An open box of condoms-ribbed for her pleasure. So the man was thoughtful between the sheets? My neglected libido revved its engine.
Stifling a shiver at sight of my uncombed hair in the vanity mirror, I then tried a finger-scrub with a jot of toothpaste to clean my teeth. I’d left my bag in the living room, but I didn’t recall nabbing a comb. Satisfied with my breath, I then peed and, with a toss of my non-existent hairstyle, wandered out into the—wait for this—yellow—kitchen.
“You’ve got some serious issues,” I muttered as I ran a hand down the back of a wooden chair painted, well, you guessed it. “Who lived here before you? Little Mary Sunshine?”
“It grows on you.”
“Really? Like what? A fungus?”
Kevin gestured with a spatula toward the stack of pancakes waiting on the center of the table. Drawn more by the steam curling up from the hot chocolate, I slid onto a chair and sipped, but closed my eyes to the bright walls that whispered to me Kill! Kill!
“You like raspberry syrup?” he asked, with a slam of another pancake onto the wobbly stack.
“Never tried it.”
He sat down across the table from me and shoved the plate of pancakes toward me. “Freshly made. I drive out to Saint-Cloud once a week to buy all my fruits and veggies from a farm. They make a mean salsa, too.”
“French salsa?” I forked two pancakes and poured the ruby-dark syrup over them. “You got a thing for hot chocolate?”
“Kinda.” He sipped, and to either side of the cup his dimples punctuated a little-boy grin. “Sleep well?”
“Heavenly. How long was I out?”
“About an hour.”
“Must be remnants of that horrible chloroform. I was out all night.”
“They must have redosed you after initially taking you in hand. That stuff shouldn’t work like that, not for so long. Unless you had some sort of allergic reaction.”
Redosed? I stretched out my left arm and stroked it with a fingertip. No needle marks. An inspection of my other arm found only a new mole on my wrist. Of course, I’d initially inhaled it. Had they made me inhale more?
Now I was a little freaked. And feeling kind of crawly. Why would they redose me? Why not just question me last night?
“What’s going on, Kevin?”
“Not sure. I suspect Vital thinks you’re working for the Faction. Maybe he wanted to pump you for information. Is that what he did?”
Not exactly. I was slapped, not pumped. It had been the strangest kidnapping ever. It wasn’t as if I knew what the typical kidnapping should be like…though it had happened twice. It was almost as if Vital had given me a head start when I’d made a break for it. Why?
Sunday bloody Sunday. I’d slept with the man. He’d remembered me. Fondly or not so fondly?
Again, why did I care?
Could it have been the reason he’d let me go so easily?
Smirking around a bite of delicious pancake and syrup, I nodded instead of answering the question. I wasn’t sure of the answers, and well, Kevin was easy to be around. Too easy, almost. His cashmere charm made me not want to think about the serious things, such as a probable death warrant on my head. If Sacha believed the Faction had snatched the princess from him, he might not sit back and take that one too lightly. He’d already proven to me he wasn’t about to let this go.
And yet, he had let me go. Something didn’t add up. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure what.
Choking on a bite, I reached for the pitcher of ice water
, but Kevin beat me and poured a glass.
“So Kevin, are you, like, some higher-up in the Faction?”
“Can’t talk about Faction business.”
He had gobbled up three pancakes to my one, and forked another two onto his plate.
“Right.” Yet, the fact he’d revealed himself to me had broken that rule, yes? I appreciated he’d at least given me that information.
“So how did you get into the business of pickups, if I may ask?”
I shrugged, toying with the final pancake. “I was taught to drive by my first boyfriend. An Italian. Charming and handsome, and always flashing the bling.”
He smiled. “So this boyfriend, I take it he was not legit?”
“Nope. And that’s all I’m willing to give you. Unless you want to exchange information about the Faction?”
Dimples denting his smile, Kevin shrugged. “Max Montenelli, yes?”
My fork clattered onto the plate, shooting a drizzle of raspberry syrup across the yellow tabletop. Well. This guy was just full of surprises. “I suppose you should know if you’ve been keeping an eye on me.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m sure it’s all part of the job. I shouldn’t be upset. I think.”
Why did I feel he knew more about me than Fitch? Uneasiness made me shift on the chair. I sipped the icy water.
“So what made you start working with the Faction? The good guys.”
He wanted to chat, but he wasn’t giving me a single crumb. Maybe if I just softened him up a bit…“Suffice it to say, after four years driving getaway for all sorts of nefarious characters, I just couldn’t stomach it anymore. I’ve decided to go legit, and have been since yesterday morning.”
“Playing the rescuing knight to damsels in distress.”
“What else could I do? I love to drive. Petrol runs through my veins. And the runs I used to do, well, they served no good. If I can help someone now, instead of harming, I feel that knocks one of the crimes I’ve committed from my chart. You know?”
“Atoning for past sins, eh?”
I nodded. It sounded stupid, but it was where I was at right now. Just wanting to do good.
“I can understand.”
Could he? I narrowed my gaze on Monsieur Mysterious. So far, all I knew about him was that he’d lied to me and wasn’t keen on rescuing the damsel in distress, even though, had he tried, she would have kicked him in the gonads and told him to take a hike. But he could make some wicked hot chocolate and pancakes.
I leaned forward, mug held below my chin to blow at the steam. “Will you tell me how you got involved with the Faction?”
“Nope.”
“Had to try.”
“The details are not important in this situation. What concerns me now is that we get you on the first plane out of the country. You’re not safe in Paris anymore, Jamie. You’ve got to run.”
Nodding, I toggled the fork. He spoke the truth. Sacha Vital may have let me slip through his fingers, but I sensed he’d not lost my scent.
Recalling something he’d said made me wonder: if he needed a driver, why not get Thing One or Two to chauffeur him around?
“Jamie?”
“I’m thinking.”
Something inside of me kicked and screamed and protested the idea of stepping back and turning tail to run like a rabbit pursued by a fox. I didn’t want to leave. This damsel wasn’t a runner. Nor a wanderlust. Hell, I was no damsel, either.
“So what do you think?” he asked. “America?”
“Huh?”
“Jamie, you’ve got to leave town. It’s important—”
“I know. I just…” I toyed the fork tip along the edge of half a pancake. “You’re very nice, Kevin. And keen.”
He turned the most quizzical look on me. Only then did I realize what I had said.
“I mean, well, bloody Sunday—why did you have to come along when this mess fell on my head? You’re handsome and charming and, damn, those dimples. Would you not look at me like that? It’s as if you’re already standing with one foot in the bedroom.”
That got a startled lift of his brow.
With that graceless confession, I stood and paced to the window, fists beating my thighs impatiently. The view looked over some cathedral—I didn’t know which one; there were tens of dozens in the city. The afternoon sun glinted on a shard of red stained glass.
“I’m not sure—” he started.
“I like you, Kevin.”
I hadn’t heard him move, but the sudden pressure of his hands moving around my waist from behind stiffened me. I quickly relaxed and settled against his hard muscled chest.
Be wary, Jamie. Now is no time to start cozying up with the first strange man who shows you kindness. He’s no Max Montenelli.
“You are an amazing woman, Jamie.” He pressed his cheek against mine, smelling like cinnamon and raspberries and subtle cologne. “But right now, it’s all I can do to worry about you. I don’t want to find out from an official Faction communication that one of our liaisons has died.”
I sighed. “I’m such a goof.” Then I pulled from his embrace.
Such horrid nonsense comes from lack of sex. Yes, I was blaming my neglected libido on this one.
I was feeling trapped. I didn’t want the man to force me away from the city I called home, so I had switched gears quicker than a Grand Prix racer. But what an idiotic shift!
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m just another client to you.”
He grabbed my wrist as I made for the living room. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Don’t worry about it. I have this frustrating tendency to react. Sometimes my heart leaps before my brain has a chance to process. I like you, Kevin. It’s been said. More importantly, I’ve got a big problem. And I should face it, not run away from it.”
“Don’t even think about it being a problem, Jamie. The plane ticket and transfer of your personal property will all be arranged by the Faction.”
“Personal property?” I smirked and rubbed my arms. “You said my apartment building went up in flames. All I’ve got is—where is my duffel bag?”
“On the floor by the sofa. Fine. That takes care of your arrangements. You need only get on the plane and forget there was ever a man named Sacha Vital.”
I swung to face him and crimped my expression. So efficient. Everything all arranged. He was doing his job. He’d inserted an easy button into my journey. But by pushing that button, my entire destination would be altered. I still wasn’t sure about that. And I knew the very fact I was so unsure proved it would be a bad choice.
Forget Sacha? The two of us had unfinished business. Namely, recall of events that may or may not have occurred last night while I was passed out and in his care.
“I’m not leaving,” I stated. Nodding, the decision grew fierce and final. The warrior inside me lifted her battle weapon—and it looked very much like a gearshift. “I can’t. This is my home. America, that’s…so out of my realm. No, I will not. I will not allow Sacha Vital to chase me away.”
“You’re serious?”
I hit him with my gaze. “Dead.”
He sighed.
“Something has to be done,” I said. “Do you know Vital kidnapped that princess and was going to sell her into slavery?”
“I…yes. Vital told you that?”
“Not exactly, but I know things. Someone has to take Sacha down.”
“I agree.”
“You do?”
“Sure, but maybe you should leave this to the Faction.”
“The Faction is a non-combative group that never makes the first move. They only rescue and redirect. And, obviously, watch. Do they have any plans to go after Vital now that the princess has been rescued?”
Kevin lifted his shoulders, but I stopped him before the movement turned to a shrug.
“You see. Vital is not your priority. But he is mine. I don’t know what I can do. I’ve no evidence against him, but, damn it, he can�
��t be allowed to go free!”
“So what’s your plan?”
I shrugged. Planning was not my forte. Peeling in with tires squealing and chasing down the bastard until he confessed his truths was more my style.
“Want to hear my plan?” Kevin asked.
“You have one? Of course, you do. You’re way ahead in this game. But why do you have a plan?”
“It’s a backup, in case we weren’t able to save the princess. But I think it can be modified to lure Vital out so we can nab him. I think you should accept that job offer. The one Sacha offered, about driving him.”
“Why? And for what crime can you take the man into custody?”
“You ready for this?”
That question scared me so thoroughly, that I choked back a swallow, then nodded.
“Sacha Vital killed Max Montenelli.”
Chapter 12
He’d let her go because he didn’t want to involve her in his danger. And if she worked for the Faction it would only hurt him to keep her close.
But he’d had to try, at least make the offer to see how she’d react. For some reason, Jamie believed she stood on the honorable side of the line. Maybe that was how the Faction operated, allowing those in their employ to believe only what they had orchestrated. Made sense.
Members of the Faction billed themselves as the good guys. Sacha felt they were comparable to the much more elusive—and nastier—Network. He wished he didn’t have to jump into this roundabout game to get to the prize, but his only hope had been taken out of the equation.
And now the clock was ticking.
He’d told Thom to stay close to Jamie and he’d reported back that the woman had, after running from captivity, just settled in for a casual mocha. A mocha? Must be a contact, though Thom wasn’t able to snap a photo of the man.
Sacha had to sit tight. His men were on Jamie; she’d gone home with the man. With an address, he could start to dig deeper. It was all he had; it was a path he had to take.
Despondent was a good definition of my overall feeling. Without a home—I took a cab by my apartment; it was ashes—without a car, without any of my things. I wouldn’t miss the clothing, the few personal items or even the place. I could always find a home. And though my finances were bleak, I could scrounge up some clothes and food. The basics.
