Getaway Girl

by Michele Hauf

  Thank goodness the BMW had been in the shop and not in the underground garage below my place. I did everything with that car. She was my sweetie. I may be living in her, though, if I couldn’t take on another job and raise some rent money for a new place.

  I needed a bit more.

  All of that meant little to me now as I stalked the sidewalk, determined. I was looking forward to the challenge. This warrior wouldn’t rest until the prey had been tracked down, run over and pressed into the tarmac.

  What I would never get over is Sacha Vital storming into my life and turning it upside down. He had no right. I hadn’t done a thing to him, except save a woman from white slavery. So he’d lost a few million euros. It wasn’t as though he wouldn’t make it up within the week on another deal.

  And the Faction had released the princess to her family, so that was all good.

  But what Kevin had told me…

  Sacha had killed Max? To even begin to think of all the implications shook me to the core. I knew exactly where Sacha Vital had been the night before Max’s murder—with me. He’d woken, left me alone in his bed and had then gone to kill Max.

  My stomach roiled to think of it. Was the man really so cold-blooded that he’d just wake up and kill? Kevin had given me details I could verify. Max had died in a car crash. He’d been run off a road and crushed into a bridge. By Sacha. Or maybe his thugs had done the dirty work. That made more sense. Sacha, away from his home that morning, had called to check with his men and ensure the job had been done. All while he slept with the one person who might have been able to save Max.

  Bastard.

  So I’d listened to Kevin’s plan and accepted his offer without a second thought.

  With the help of the Faction, I would make Sacha Vital pay.

  My pace increasing, I strode the rue de Seine, en route for Vital’s office on the Left Bank. It didn’t trouble me that I was on my own. Because I wasn’t. Kevin had suggested I could lure the fox from his den, saving the Faction from an all-out shoot-’em-up. Besides, Sacha could smell the Faction a mile away, Kevin had added. If they so much as got within hearing range of the man, he vanished like a ghost. They couldn’t risk spooking him.

  So I was the secret weapon. Sacha might suspect my alliances, but I believed he’d allow me to walk back into his life.

  I carried a cell phone Kevin had given me in my bag. The Faction would be a phone call away. All I had to do was get Vital out of the city, draw him away from his comfort zone and the protection of his hired guns, and the Faction would then move in. A simple Sunday drive.

  I was aware of the hazards. The journey wasn’t worth it without the bumps and hairpin turns. This lass was up for the ride.

  And Sacha Vital was going to get the ride of his life.

  The man’s office overlooked the Seine. Though I hadn’t remarked the exact address, I had only run from the place earlier this morning and knew it was on the quai Saint Bernard. I recalled there were no remarkable landmarks, beyond the tip of Notre Dame topping the building in the distance. I supposed Notre Dame was remarkable to visitors, but having lived in the city for years, it was just another church to me now.

  At the corner of the pont de la Tournelle, I found the building. I tipped down my violet sunglasses and looked over them. Looking as if it were held together by nothing more than thin strips of brick between many massive windows, the building gleamed in the sunlight, blinding me with a laser-like precision as I approached at an angle.

  Entering the lobby, sans furniture and receptionist, I tugged at my skirt and smoothed down the floaty blouse. My attire wasn’t so much a mess as a distraction. Hastily, I buttoned the bottom two buttons—this was a business call. That didn’t help much; the silk was wrinkled beyond hope. What I really needed was a shower and change of clothing. I should have changed at Kevin’s; I did have jeans and a T-shirt in my bag. Some job applicant.

  But I had already won the job.

  Now to make Vital believe I was interested.

  “She’s waiting outside, sir. I’m telling you, this is going to surprise the hell out of you.”

  Sacha nodded to Thom to allow her in. He leaned back in his chair. A triumphant grin slipped across his mouth, but he quickly hid it behind his forefinger. When Thom had called to inform him their mark was making her way back here, he’d laughed. It was so obviously a setup. But he’d definitely hear her out, no doubt about that.

  Jumping to his feet, he smoothed both palms over his slacks and gave a tug to the tight button at the neck of his shirt. A careful twist to each sleeve pulled the organic silk to mid-hand. He picked off nonexistent lint from the shoulder. Primping?

  He smirked. The woman was a looker. And sexy. And…a fascinating lover. As well, she was nothing he expected her to be, and everything he could hope for. Ecstatic over her return was the only way to describe his mood.

  Back so soon after her spectacular escape? (Not that he hadn’t purposefully given her a head start this morning.) He was ready to step into whatever game she offered. The mere fact she was here proved she was up to something—likely orchestrated by the Faction. After all, she was their driver. A smart person would have high-tailed it for the airport.

  But Sacha knew Jamie MacAlister was no dummy. A driver, by nature, had to develop survival skills since their specialty was conveying all sorts of criminals. A gorgeous woman like that had to have a set of iron balls and matching iron common sense.

  From this moment on, life would be intriguing, if not downright challenging.

  Thom opened the door and in marched Jamie, chin held up and blue eyes fixing directly on Sacha. She didn’t immediately speak, likely summing him up. Hadn’t changed since this morning, but that didn’t detract from her appeal. She must have to adjust the driver’s seat way back for those long legs that looked as delicious wearing Doc Martens as he knew they looked in sexy green stilettos. The short plaid skirt was a bit juvenile, but girlie. Sacha like girlie women. The floaty purple blouse, though a wrinkled mess, made him aware of her curves. The thought to undress her—again—could not be ignored.

  But it did put Sacha on the alert.

  “Miss MacAlister, I hadn’t expected you.”

  “Really?” She tugged a heavy duffel bag from her shoulder and set it on the floor near her feet with a clunk. He’d searched the bag and knew that besides a dizzying plethora of girlie accoutrements and the odd tool or two, there was a gun inside. “I thought you had offered me a job? You going back on your word?”

  So, she intended to insinuate herself into his life. For what purpose? He hadn’t told her why he’d needed a driver. Was the Faction manipulating her strings? Very likely.

  Play this one carefully. But quickly. Time dwindled. Every moment he wasted, the princess could be spilling sensitive—and life-threatening—information to the Faction.

  “I never dishonor my word, Jamie.” He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest, then, decided to prop his palms on the desk at his hips. More open that way. Couldn’t have her putting up her guard against his suspicions. “I’m just surprised.”

  Arms akimbo, her guard remained fierce. “That I would choose to work for a bastard like you?”

  “Bastard?” He rather liked it when a woman’s ire ruffled her so brilliantly. A soft blush rosed her cheeks, and he knew it wasn’t makeup. La lapine was a natural woman. “And just how will your newly-gained charitable morals allow you to work for a man who would stoop so low as to slavery and kidnapping?”

  “Let’s cut through the crap and jump right to the chase, shall we?” She strode right up to him. Solid in her expression, those pale blue eyes meant business. But was that a bit of hesitation in the flicker of lash that briefly redirected that steely expression to the side? “You’re not getting rid of me so easily. The way I see it, you owe me a car and a home.”

  “A car?”

  “The Audi your thugs drove off into the sunset with yesterday morning.”

  When ha
d Thom and Jacques—? Hmm…No, he’d play along with this one. “As quickly as possible. I’d hate to see the lady without her wheels.” Sacha leaned back and drew up his right leg to cross over his left knee. “As for a home? I must honestly plead ignorance.”

  “Are you going to tell me you have no clue about the fire at my place last night? A fire that burned while I was under the influence of your nastiness?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of claiming ignorance, but—”

  “You fried the place while I sat doped up in your office. What did you give me?”

  “Just the chloroform.”

  “Liar.”

  Sacha straightened abruptly. The stones were right behind him on the desk, but no, he didn’t feel anger; it was more a sense of hurt that this woman would accuse him. “I would never lie to you, Jamie. I will always tell you exactly as you wish to be told.”

  “Oh really? What did you do to me?”

  “When?”

  “Last night while I was unconscious!”

  “Nothing. You slept on the floor right over there. I only had Jacques place you on the chair just minutes before you came to.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him.

  “Why the disbelief?”

  “Did you touch me?”

  “Touch—you think I took advantage of you?”

  “It’s called rape.”

  “Hell no!” He reeled back and grabbed a stone. Cold and hard, it was just so…hard. Breathing out, he focused and turned back to Jamie. “You think you were raped?”

  “Just…asking.”

  “Wouldn’t you know?”

  “I don’t know. It’s never happened before.”

  “Thank God!”

  “Do not express false concern over me, Vital.” Arms crossed tightly over her chest, she paced before him. “Tell me about the fire.”

  A fire. At her place? What was the Faction up to? It wasn’t a lie if you honestly didn’t know what the hell was going on. “Sorry. Sometimes things just…have to be done.” But by whom? “You understand?”

  “What I understand—” she leaned in closer so he could feel her breath on his mouth “—is that we’ve got a business transaction to take care of. You wanted a driver?”

  “I do, very much.”

  “Fine, you’ve got la lapine, the best in the city. One ride, in a brand-new Audi—no, make that a Bimmer. I call the shots. You sit back and enjoy the pleasure of my service.”

  “And you get what out of this deal?”

  “Besides the new wheels? I get the satisfaction of taking you on the ride of your life.”

  “Will it be the ride to end my life?”

  “That’s a chance you’ll have to take. You in?”

  Oh, he was in. This ploy was too intriguing to resist. And if it got him closer to the goal…“I’m in.”

  “Fine.” She noticeably loosened her stance with a shrug of her sleek shoulders and a twist of her neck.

  Round one: la lapine. But Sacha was not down for the count. Far from it.

  “Before I can take you anywhere, I’ll need a car,” she said.

  “Of course. Here.” Sacha slipped a cell phone from an inner pocket. It was a spare he kept in the office; no valuable contact numbers in it. Usually he lent it to Thom for the directions he would inevitably call for while on the road. “Take the phone. I’ll be in contact very soon with the dealer that’ll have a new Audi—”

  “I want a BMW for this ride. Three series. All the options: Bluetooth, sports package, GPS, active steering. And make it…Barrique Red.”

  Sacha liked a woman who knew what she wanted. This driver had driven him once; he wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.

  “Done,” he said. “I prefer the German-engineered automobiles myself.”

  She smirked. “What, a VW Beetle?”

  “Bugatti Veyron 16.4.”

  That got a lift of brow from her. “Red?”

  “You know it.”

  A noticeable appreciation softened her features for but a moment, then business mode tightened her jaw. “So what’s the job?”

  “I’ll tell you when I’m sitting in your new Beamer.”

  “Americans.” She scoffed. “It’s called a Bimmer. Beamers are BMW motorcycles, of which, I don’t drive. Got it?”

  “You’re the boss, lady.”

  “Exactly. So, I’ll wait for your call. But the ground rules are, I only take one passenger. You. No thugs.”

  “Agreed.”

  “And you won’t talk to me.”

  Sacha shrugged.

  “I can see you understand the importance of silence.” She tucked the phone into her pack and slung it over her shoulder, and then spun on her heel.

  It was all Sacha could do not to follow her sexy skirt-swinging exit like a puppy to its master. But he did lean forward to catch a bit of hip-rocking action as she strode down the hallway. Nice.

  Her home and a car? A bimmer, not a beamer, which was a motorcycle. Right. He knew that. Maybe. Her house had gone up in flames? Hmm…He’d have to look into that claim.

  Jamie MacAlister had walked into a fierce battle. Did she have a clue what the Faction had gotten her into? Neither side would be concerned for her safety. In fact, both sides may prefer her dead. Unless, of course, she was just sexy enough to appeal to one of the side’s lust.

  Which, damn it, she was.

  Scrubbing a palm over his scalp, Sacha smiled to himself and turned to the phone on the desk. He had a BMW dealer to locate, and a lot of cash to lay out to satisfy his curiosity. But more importantly, he would not discount the urgency and necessity of finding that princess.

  Chapter 13

  It was just plain naff, taking public transportation, but after losing the Audi, I wasn’t willing to risk the Bimmer. Sacha’s agreement to replace the Audi had surprised the hell out of me. I guess I wielded more command than I thought. Oh yeah, when I speak, people listened.

  Right.

  I slid onto an empty vinyl bus seat. The air smelled like industrial cleaner. Pressing my head to the cracked headrest and clutching the hard seat with tense fingers, I closed my eyes and blew out a breath.

  That had been easy enough, securing a job with Vital.

  Too easy. He was up to something.

  As was I.

  Kevin had warned me I’d be stepping onto dangerous ground when I agreed to work with the Faction to take down Vital. I was in for the adventure, and Max Montenelli most certainly deserved to be avenged.

  I powered on the phone Kevin had given me and speed dialed the only number programmed. The Faction could track me through the connection. I relied on the cellular airwaves as my only backup. The line crackled but was answered after the second ring.

  Kevin didn’t even say hello—not that I expected the civility. “Location?”

  “Just outside Sacha’s office on a bus. Left Bank, heading west and toward the Right Bank.”

  “You speak to Vital?”

  “We’re on. I’m waiting for his call.”

  “You going to pick him up with the bus?”

  “So there does lie humor behind the dimples. No, I’ve arranged transportation.” Why I didn’t volunteer the car situation to Kevin wasn’t important. Was it? If it was a new vehicle, I had little to worry for traps set by Vital. “I’ll call you once I’ve got a pickup location.”

  “Fine. We’ll be tracking. Good going, la lapine.”

  “Call me Jamie.”

  “Er, Jamie.” Do you think he blushed just a little on the other end of our connection? I imagine he did. “But you’ll have to get used to calling me Eight. Can’t have Vital hear my real name. Not that you’ll reveal your connections to the Faction anyway. Right?”

  All right, so no blush.

  “Roger, Eight. Over.”

  I tossed the cell phone into my duffel, then shuffled around inside. There must be half a dozen empty gum wrappers, but no real gum in sight. Why I’d tossed in makeup brushes and eye shadow was beyond me�
��it had all been part of the stuff I’d shoved inside during my rush to vacate the apartment.

  I drew out the lipstick tube. The shiny gold cover was dented. “Grim.” Must have gotten clonked by the torque wrench. A check assured the valuable little tube was still in working order, so I tossed it back into the fray.

  The iPod was still alive, though it had taken a beating the past twenty-four hours. Popping in the earbuds, I then spun my thumb around the click wheel until I arrived at Playlist, then chose Fun.

  Bowling For Soup’s “Girl All The Bad Guys Want” began to jingle inside my head. How appropriate. I impulsively tapped the click wheel to shuffle to another song, and then, with a smile and a shake of my head, gave in to the silliness of the song.

  Drawing the cell phone Vital had given me from the bag, I flipped it open and made sure it was on. Curious, I scrolled through Contacts, and was disappointed to find it clean of phone numbers. Of course he wasn’t stupid enough to put that sort of information into my hands. But wouldn’t it have been interesting to find a girlfriend’s name? Then again, I pitied the woman who had the misfortune to date a man who sold women into slavery.

  Twice now, the bastard had put me under his thumb. But this time, I was up for thumb wrestling.

  I vacillated shutting off the phone.

  You are not being manipulated, he is. No victim here. You’re trying to exact justice for Max’s murder, nothing but. And don’t forget it.

  A sigh to blow over ships sifted between my lips. With it, my muscles softened and I snugged against the hard bus seat. Centuries-old stone buildings whisked by outside. I tuned down the volume with a flick of my finger.

  “Max, I miss you.”

  I had thought to so effortlessly shut out the pain of loss from my life. Twice over. First, with my father’s death and then Max. The two most important men in my life, and now I had neither. I missed the comfortable alliance I’d had with both. It had felt good to have a male companion, whether it was my father or my mentor. Both had been strong men, but never harsh or unkind to me.