by Vonnie Davis
“Yes, Captain, I know this, but the woman identified you and your department by name. She had no identification on her. Claims she’s an American, working with you.”
“Working with me…” It couldn’t be. He stood. “Did she give a name?”
“Alyson Moore. Her alleged tenancière de bordel’s name is…”
“Madam?” he yelled. Aly had been out of his sight for half a day and she had a madam? “Who is this woman?”
“Strange, sir. A genteel elderly woman by the name of Marie-Clare Aukland.”
Niko slapped a hand over his eyes. Oh, I am definitely going to kill her…and her aged pimp, too. “I’m on my way.”
“Should we remove the handcuffs then?”
“No.” A thought coalesced with visions of paybacks; worrying over her caused his self-control to snap. “Put her in an interrogation room, one of the private ones at the end of the hall. Keep the handcuffs on her and tie her to a chair. Put a blindfold on her, too. No one sees her, but me. Understood?”
“Well, yes, but this is most unusual.” Doubt tinged the officer’s remark.
“Not in the interrogation of terrorists. There are ways we make them talk.” And squirm. Damned if he wouldn’t make her squirm after running away from him. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t tell her you’ve talked to me. Let’s see if she really knows who I am.”
“You think she’s a terrorist and not a prostitute?”
“Twenty minutes with me, and I’ll know exactly what she is.” He slammed the phone, his gaze sweeping the office area for something or someone to rip apart. By the time Niko charged out of the unit’s office wing and stepped onto the elevator, cold resolve and Italian passion, as his maman called his temper tantrums, were joining forces to teach this clueless American a lesson. Had she no idea what she meant to him? Had she given any thought to the danger she would put herself in when she left the safe house? He stepped off the elevator and into the criminal intake area.
“Louis Breton? Captain Reynard.”
The harried officer behind the counter glanced up from papers he was signing. “Yes, Captain Reynard. I have your prisoner in the last room on the left as requested.” He motioned over his shoulder with a pen. “If you want to speak to the undercover policeman who arrested her, he’s over there at his desk.” Breton gave a jerk of his head and the corners of his mouth twitched. “With an icepack on his groin. The prostitute gives a mean karate kick.” He snorted and shook his head.
Niko spun in the direction of the rows of desks and spied a man with a pained expression, his feet on his desk and a huge icepack on his groin. He approached him. “You the undercover officer who arrested a prostitute?”
“Who the hell are you?”
Normally Niko would squelch that smart-ass attitude from an officer, from most anyone, in fact, but given the location of the officer’s injuries, he’d let the man’s insolence slide this time. “Captain Reynard, Counterterrorism Unit.”
“Yeah, well pardon me if I don’t get up. The prostitute claimed she was working with you. Since when are prostitutes part of the task force against terrorism? You guys getting benefits we normal police aren’t?”
Niko didn’t like this guy or his attitude. “I’m going to let that preposterous remark slide because you’ve been hurt, but my patience has worn thinner that your hairline.” He leaned a hip against the desk and crossed his arms. “Now, temper your attitude and tell me about the arrest.”
The officer narrowed his eyes at Niko for a beat, then shook his head. “Damndest thing I ever saw. These two broads came sauntering into Deux Maggot. One was this older diminutive woman. Total class. Sweet looking. She was followed by this redhead. I mean she was sensational loo…”
“Redhead?” Aly was blonde. “Did she have any ID on her?”
“No passport as required from non-French visitors. Had an American driver’s license. According to it, her name is—” he pulled a notebook from his shirt pocket and flipped to the page he wanted “—Alyson Moore, from Asheville, North Carolina, to be exact. The picture on the license was of a blonde. Same blue eyes, though. Claimed her passport was stolen and that she was working with you.”
“Why the arrest? Was she soliciting?” That didn’t sound like his prim and proper Aly.
“She was hot, you know? I mean, I had a hard-on from the time she walked past me in that dress.”
As if a red curtain of jealous rage lowered over Niko’s eyes, he clenched and unclenched his fists. The bastard deserved a good whipping. No man talked about his Aly like that and kept his teeth intact. “There’s no crime in a woman being attractive.”
“True. She had a glass of wine. Asked me if I liked her shoes. Held her leg out to me.” He rolled his eyes. “What a pair of legs! We exchanged a few remarks. Her French is terrible, by the way. Next thing I knew, she was asking me if I’d like to pay for her.”
“’Pay for her.’ Those were her exact words?”
The officer shrugged. “Something like that. Her French was so bad, but her body language spoke for her.” He wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “She was soliciting all right.”
Niko jerked his head toward the ice pack. “How’d you get hurt?”
“I arrested her and slammed on the handcuffs. She behaved fairly well. No resistance. The older woman spoke up, claiming the redhead was living with her. So, I handcuffed her, too. Or tried to. The redhead went into protection mode—you know how protective prostitutes are of their pimps.” He snorted and shook his head. “That’s when she went berserk. Hell if she didn’t do some fancy karate moves. Kicked the hell of out of my groin. Dropped me to my freakin’ knees. The little old lady stood up and applauded. Then the damn redhead took a bow and laughed.”
Niko stared down at his shoes so the man couldn’t see him smile. His Aly was in a class of her own. Full of delightful surprises. “Thanks. Take care of your injuries. I’ll take care of the hellcat.” He turned and headed to the officer at the desk. “Officer Breton, please fill out the paperwork to have the prostitute remanded to my custody. I’ll be taking her with me after I interrogate her.”
“As you wish.”
Niko headed for the water dispenser. He was stalling, planning his next step before he faced the woman who turned him inside out with need. Niko pulled out his cell and called Jean-Luc. “I found Aly. Cease all search operations.”
“She okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll explain it all to you later. It’s a story you won’t believe.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve got a problem up here.”
“What?” He had a sinking feeling. Jean-Luc had that foreboding tone to his voice.
“We just got a call. Looks like it’s our jurisdiction. There’s been a murder at Aukland’s les Arts Atelier. Isn’t that where you said you hid Aly while you apprehended that guy who was following you two?”
Niko leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. “Tell me it wasn’t Marie-Clare.” Wait, wasn’t she in custody here? He was so worked up over Aly he failed to check on the older woman.
“No, an employee, Josette Ogden.” Jean-Luc exhaled a long breath. “The Red Hand left their usual calling card—a handprint of the victim’s blood on the wall.”
“Sweet Jesus. Do you know the time of the murder? I stopped by Aukland’s in my search for Aly, but the shop was closed.” Had the murderers been inside at that very moment? Could he have been one locked door away from The Red Hand?
“Something else. They left a note.”
“That’s a first. What does the note say?”
“Three words: ‘For Alyson Moore.’”
“Shit! I want you at Aukland’s right away. You and Laurant. Call me after you check out the scene. You are the only one I trust on this. Don’t let me down.”
Niko slapped a hand against the wall and closed his eyes for a minute. An innocent woman dead. So many innocents dead thanks to The Red Hand, the scourge of the earth. Damn them all to hell. He would not let Aly be their nex
t victim.
He turned and approached Officer Breton. “I’m sorry to bother you again. I failed to inquire about Marie-Clare Aukland. Is she still in custody?”
Breton checked his computer. “Yes, cell three.”
“I’ll need to have her remanded to my custody, too. Can you have her brought to me, please?”
Chapter Twelve
By the time proper paperwork was signed, an officer brought a contrite Marie-Clare to Niko. He took her gently by the arm and led her to a private area. “Are you well, Marie-Clare? Were you treated properly? May I get you some coffee?”
“Your concern is most kind. However, I wish to lodge a complaint against the officer who arrested us.” She leaned in, her eyes squinted in anger. “The man was brutal. Insolent. He was completely out of line. After he put handcuffs on Alyson, he put his hand down the front of her dress and fondled her.”
Hot rage he’d never known scalded his system like acid. “He what?” He would kill the bastard. His gaze slid in the direction of the man trimming his fingernails at his desk with an ice pack on his groin. “Tell me everything.”
The next couple of minutes passed in a red-hazed-blur of anger. Marie-Clare gave him the full details of their arrest, assuring him over and over Aly had not tried to solicit but had merely misspoken her French.
“Stay here please, Marie-Clare.”
Niko stormed over to the derelict policeman and punched him. The officer toppled out of his chair, too dazed to get back up. “How dare you fondle a woman? You put your hands on her breasts?” Niko grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and hauled him to his feet. “No one touches her. You filthy bastard!” He struck him again. Officers stood and yelled their protests. The department head ran to Niko, shouting profanities. Niko shouted back, telling him what the policeman had done. Once tempers calmed, somewhat, he insisted the officer be placed on suspension for his unprofessional conduct.
Marie-Clare was all smiles when he returned to where he left her. “You love Alyson. Oui? Deny it all you want, young man, but if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have behaved like that.”
He shook his head in denial. “No. No, I care for her, sure. Attracted to her, definitely. Love? I loved once before and it was disastrous. Love’s not for me. No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Madame.” He ran a hand down his necktie. She was mistaken. Right?
“You can’t will the heart to stop loving. It is impossible. The two of you care for each other and thus far are equally afraid to admit it.” She clucked her tongue in a sympathetic, yet accusing manner.
Niko took her hand and shook his head again. “We won’t discuss my feelings any further. I have some things I must discuss with you. Some bad news. Come, sit down and we’ll talk.”
“Bad news? What?” Her inquisitive eyes scanned his face as if searching for clues to what he was about to tell her.
He rubbed her hand as he spoke. “I’m afraid there’s been a murder.” At Marie-Clare’s gasp, he laid his arm across her narrow shoulders. “Your employee, Josette.” He held her firmly to his side. “I’m sorry, Madame.”
“Tell me my faded hearing did not hear you correctly. Josette is dead? My friend, Josette?”
“Oui, Madame.”
“No, it can’t be true. Not sweet Josette.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “I can’t believe it.”
He noted her rapid breathing and widened eyes. He turned her toward him and gently ran his hand up and down her back. She needed a human touch right now. “Take some slow, deep breaths for me, please.”
She complied, her eyes locked on his. “What happened? Heart attack? No, you said murder, didn’t you? This is all too horrible to grasp. Sweet Josette…”
“Yes, she was murdered. The terrorists who are after Aly killed Josette in your shop. The police are there and two of my agents are on their way. I’m having an officer drive you home.” Her trembling, age-spotted hand covered her mouth. Suddenly her frailty surfaced and tugged at his heart. “Will you be okay? I’ll have the officer stay with you until Aly and I get there. I would rather you weren’t alone.”
“You are most kind.” She dabbed a tissue to her eyes. “Josette was so caring and gentle. Who would want to hurt her?” Marie-Clare turned her tear-moistened eyes on him. “There is so much ugliness in the world.”
“Yes, Madame, there is.” At times he got so tired of all the bombs and killing, of dealing with the underbelly of society. Hae-Won claimed the job was draining the humanity out of him. At times, he thought she’d been right.
The older woman straightened, grasped his arm and looked intently into his eyes. “You must destroy these animals. These annihilators of common decency. For Josette, you must do this!” Then she collapsed against him, as if her command drained what strength she possessed. He drew her into a loose embrace and murmured words of comfort.
“Yes, Madame.” His jaw clenched so tight his head hurt. Destroying these terrorists was his job, and he did it well. Although, not as quickly as he liked. He’d been on the trail of The Red Hand for over three years and hunting them down with relentless determination for the last two.
After Niko saw Marie-Clare placed safely into the hands of a female officer, he turned his attention to Aly. If she kept those fantastic legs of hers at the safe house where she belonged, none of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have gone though his own private hell. Josette, innocent soul that she was, might still be alive. Marie-Clare wouldn’t be mourning the loss of her friend.
Aly needed to be taught a lesson, and he planned on being the teacher from hell.
Niko opened the door to the interrogation room and stilled.
Aly’s head turned in the direction of the noise, a blindfold over her beautiful blue eyes.
His gaze swept over her and he willed himself to calm down.
She was safe.
She was unharmed.
In fact, the woman he worried over for the majority of the day was not only unscathed, she had her hair and nails done. His temper started to rise as he stared. Her hair was shorter now. A head-turning red. Large golden hoops drew attention to her pretty face, as if she needed any help. Clear fingernail polish had been replaced with dark red.
His back molars ground together. He thought of grabbing and shaking her. Damned if while he was slowly going insane with worry, she went shopping. He packed her clothes for her. If there’d been a skintight dress like the one hugging her very appealing curves, he would have remembered. The dress showed more cleavage than he liked for her to display to the world and rode too high on her thighs, exposing the bottom of the butterfly wings of her tattoo. The damn dress was little more than a naval napkin. What possessed her to buy such a thing?
While fear gnawed on his gut all afternoon, she was having a girl’s day out, visiting a beauty salon and shopping. He should shake the daylights out of her. His gaze dropped to her shoes and his tongue nearly rolled out onto the floor. Good Lord! His fingers itched to forge a trail over those legs. The woman was messing with his mind and his libido, making him weak with lust.
Just to startle her, he strode into the room and slammed the door behind him. He took pleasure in seeing her jump. Because he was so damned mad, he walked to the opposite side of the table from where she sat and frowned at her. If he got any closer, he would put his hands around her slender throat. Twenty four hours. He had only known this woman for twenty-four hours, and she had him tied into knots.
“Who…who’s there?” Her head turned slightly from side to side as if hoping to hone in on his presence.
If he spoke, she might recognize his voice. No, he would not speak just yet. Slowly, he walked the perimeter of the room, his gaze locked on her. How could a soft woman contain so much strength? How was he to protect himself from her and her sweet allure?
He made two slow trips around the perimeter of the room, his anger growing with each step. Had she no clue what she did to him? How scared she made him when she walked out of his life? Before he realized his intent, h
e banged his fist on the top of the table. She jumped. “What in God’s name were you thinking?” he yelled in French.
“What? What are you saying? I don’t understand.”
Continuing in his native tongue, he told her what he thought of her leaving the safe house and how much he cared for her. Yes, he was yelling. Yes, he had lost control. With every ounce of testosterone in him, he wanted to haul her to him and kiss her and…and lay her back over this table and make love to her until she screamed his name in climax, until she knew who was in control here. Show her how she belonged to him.
He stopped his pacing and banged his forehead once against the wall. Good God, I’m losing it.
“Look, I don’t appreciate being yelled at like this. If I’m going to be interrogated, the least you snooty French authorities could do is bring in a policeman who can speak English. I’ve had just about enough of this city and its sex-crazed police force.”
He slowly turned, not believing what he was hearing. “You dare criticize our police force? We are one of the best in the world. All right, so the bastard who dared touched you was the exception, but I took care of him. I punched him in your defense.” This, too, was spoken in his rapid-fire French.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” She jerked her chin in irritation and turned her head to ignore him. “I refuse to listen to any more of your French ranting, you idiot. With the police force you’ve got in this city, I bet there’s not a single virgin left in all of Paris. Since I’ve gotten here, I’ve been touched, kissed, damn near seduced and groped. I’ve had enough. Either bring in someone who speaks English or put me back in my cell. Just make sure it’s not Captain Niko Reynard who questions me.”
“Why not?” he asked in French.
This much she evidently understood for she answered his question. “He was assigned to protect me. Only he kept touching me and kissing me in that fantastic way he has. Making me feel things. Making me believe he cared. Making me care for him in return. Making me believe he thought me…thought me…desirable.” She sniffed. “Dammit, now I’m going to cry. Go away. Leave me alone.”
