Mona Lisa's Room

by Vonnie Davis

  She headed for the faded red curtain separating the store section from the storage and lounge area for employees. Her feet froze when she saw the chalk outline of Josette’s body. A human being died here. The pool of blood soaked into the faded carpeting, leaving a large grotesque stain. She couldn’t make herself step over the outline of the body.

  Then her eyes lifted and widened. Air held her lungs prisoner, refusing to let them work. A pin-stinging sensation attacked her arms and hands. Before her was a red handprint on the wall above the chalk outline. Was that Josette’s blood running down the wall? Gray spots floated into her vision field.

  An arm of steel banded around her waist and pulled her back to a very firm chest. “Are you okay, cherie?” Niko’s lips were against her ear, feathering her hair. “Death comes to us all but is hardest on those left behind. Especially when the architect of death is demented and heartless.”

  She turned into him, pressing her face against his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck. All of this happened because she left the safe house and came here. Poor, poor Josette.

  Niko’s hand slowly rubbed her back. “You’re trembling, cherie. I’m sorry you had to see that. It is The Red Hand’s signature. Why don’t you go upstairs to Marie-Clare?”

  “I can’t step across where she…where she…” Niko scooped her into his arms and carried her across the threshold into the back room. “The authorities will soon be done here. Then we’ll concentrate on returning things to normal for Marie-Clare.” He set her down on her feet and trailed a finger down her cheek. Their eyes locked on each other for a few heartbeats. “I’d shield you from all the evils of this world, if you’d let me.” He turned and walked back to his coworkers.

  Alyson hurried up the steps and rapped on Marie-Clare’s back door, trying to shake the vision of Josette’s blood running down the wall and Niko’s remarks about shielding her. What a horrendous day. Just last week she proclaimed she didn’t want to celebrate any more birthdays. Now she was hiding from The Red Hand, hoping she’d live to see more. Life had a way of shifting priorities.

  “Oui?” The woman’s voice sounded strained and scared.

  “Marie-Clare, it’s Alyson.” The locks squeaked open, as did the door.

  The older woman’s hand snaked out and pulled Alyson inside. “Quickly. We’ll be safe in here.” As diminutive as she was, she made quite a sight with a sword clasped in her hand, the tip touching the floor. “Come. I’m just having a soothing cup of tea. You will join me, oui?” The sword clanked as she dragged it across her wooden floors.

  “Where did you get that sword?” Alyson sat on the settee next to Marie-Clare.

  The older woman held it out and did a few quick flourishes with it. “Beautiful, isn’t it? My papa kept it under his bed during the second Great War. His papa used it in the first Great War, as if any war could be classified as being great. When the Germans came to occupy our city, our lady we love so much, our jewel of the Seine, Papa protected Maman and us three children. I was ten years old then. I remember how he kept it polished and sharp.”

  Marie-Clare laid it down next to her feet and poured Alyson a cup of tea. “Now, tell me. Was it romantic when your young man rescued you?”

  Alyson added sugar to the tea and stirred. “No, but it was memorable.”

  “He kissed you, oui?” Marie-Clare’s eyes twinkled with romantic excitement, and Alyson was charmed. She was such a delightful older woman, so full of life and exuberance.

  “Yes, he kissed me, and we fought as we always do.”

  Marie-Clare raised her delicate cup to her lips and stilled. “Such passion. Think how it will be when you make love. Ah, mon amour! You will never be the same after that. A man like him will love fiercely, even when he’s being gentle.” She sipped and set her cup on the table. “If you could have seen Niko when I told him how that undercover policeman fondled you.” Her hand waved to the side. “He was livid! Livid, mind you. He charged over to that nasty man and punched the daylights out of him.”

  Alyson straightened. “No! He didn’t!”

  “Oh, but he did. He loves you, Alyson. Why, he practically admitted as much to me once he pummeled that brazen man to bits. That policeman will probably lose his badge if Niko has anything to do with it. What a wonderful man your young man is. He held me in his arms after he told me about Josette. So caring, so gentlesse.” She clucked her tongue. “I felt so secure in his arms. A woman would have a good life with a man such as Niko Reynard.” She raised her cup again, her eyes regarding Alyson before she sipped more tea. “The question is, can you bear it if the woman he loves and protects is not you?”

  Could she? Niko kissing another woman, holding her close and whispering to her in that deep, sensual tone he used with Alyson were images that evoked raging jealousy—strong, kick-someone’s-ass jealousy. She turned to glance out the open French doors. When had she morphed from a docile female to a take-charge woman? When she met Niko Reynard, that’s when.

  She had to admit the thought of his giving a foot massage to another woman pained her. His warm lips on someone else’s instep and ankle. She shifted in her seat as her body hummed with the memory of the desire he ignited in her. Could she handle it if he were igniting a fire in some other woman? Hell no. Leaving Paris, leaving him would be like tearing out her soul.

  “Let’s not forget I’m an American. I’ll be returning to the States shortly. No matter how much I’m attracted to him, I have to keep that in mind. I’m only here for a short while.” Two tears moistened her cheeks.

  “You’ve gotten over the difference in your ages then? What does a few years matter?”

  “Yes. Yes, I have.” The age dilemma no longer mattered. Perhaps because she felt younger, more alive around Niko. The real problem looming in front of her was the airplane waiting to take her home in a few days. Home, where she’d never see him again.

  Marie-Clare took her hand in her cool ones and squeezed them. “Will you be happy in America without the man you love? Listen to me. While life is short, it can be miserably long with the wrong person. When I was barely twenty, I was seeing a very nice, wealthy young man, and had been for a year or more.” She pursed her lips together for a second or two. “He bored me. One day I noticed a wildly dressed painter along the Seine. Oh, such colors he wore! I walked over to look at his paintings. We talked about the entire universe in the span of a few minutes. I walked away a woman in love.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I have relived the enchantment of that day over and over in my mind. Oh, the stars I saw in Pierre’s eyes, the magic of his soul and the goodness within his heart.

  “My Pierre and I were poor at first. We struggled financially for a few years, but oh, the passion we had. I never regretted walking away from the wealthier man to be with the man who made my heart rich with love. Do you see what I’m saying?”

  “Yes, but this is different. He has a career and family he loves here. I have the same in America. Besides, I don’t know for sure how he feels.”

  “Alyson, open your eyes and your heart. Stop being afraid.”

  She swiped at the tears on her face and shook her head. “It would never work. Listen, I have to take my purse downstairs to Niko. He suspects there might be a tracking device in it. If there is, then I am responsible for Josette’s death. I brought danger to your shop and to your home. I’m so sorry, Marie-Clare.”

  “What is this nonsense you speak? Go, do what you must. Now, I think I will take a long bath, eat a piece of fruit and retire early for the night. I’ll keep the shop closed for a few days out of respect for Josette. She was such a good employee. More importantly, she was an old friend.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head.

  “What happened to her was terrible, oui, but not your fault. Nor mine, either, for having her work in my shop. This we can say to the head, and the head understands, but the heart is an entirely different matter. I suspect we will both carry a tinge of guilt in our hearts for Josette’s death.”
r />   “Yes.”

  “We must put the blame where it belongs: on the shoulders of the terrorists. Bastards, every one. They have no conscience. None whatsoever.”

  Alyson changed back into her jeans and blouse. Just to rattle Niko, she wore her red heels. Wearing high heels was almost becoming second nature, almost. She gathered her luggage and packages and gave her farewells to Marie-Clare.

  By the time she stepped back into the shop, someone had cut out the blood-stained carpet, no doubt to take to a forensics lab. A piece of cloth was tacked over the bloody red hand.

  Niko and Jean-Luc were at the sales counter, talking. Jean-Luc was making notes on his laptop, nodding as Niko spoke. At her approach, both men looked up. “Here’s my shoulder bag.” She extended it to Niko.

  “Did you go through it?”

  “No, I figured I wouldn’t know what I was looking for anyway. You’re the expert, not I.”

  Niko opened the leather shoulder bag and emptied its contents. Slowly and methodically he inspected every item, pushing them aside to another pile.

  Alyson went over the bag again to make sure all the little side pockets were emptied. “Oh, look. A seam has ripped. My dad bought this especially for this trip. He chose the color because it reminded him of his favorite yellow flower, buttercups. That’s been his nickname for me since I was a baby: Buttercup. He always buys good quality stuff. He’d be so upset if he knew.”

  “Let me see it.” Niko gave a beckoning motion with his hand. He looked at the open seam in the leather. “It’s not a tear. It’s been cut. See how straight the edges of the threads are?” He used a pencil to probe into the opening and with a surgeon’s precision pulled out a small tracking device. “Hello!”

  “Is that it?” Alyson peered at the dime-sized oval-shaped item with a small, almost invisible microphone.

  Niko looked at Jean-Luc. “It’s one of ours. Who had access to Aly’s bag yesterday while she was being held for questioning? Giselle, right? Anyone else?”

  “As far as I know, only her. She’s the one who locked it in your desk drawer. You’ll have to ask her if anyone else had access to the bag.”

  Niko turned to the hand tools hanging on the wall behind them and snatched a hammer. With a few loud strikes, the plastic device was destroyed. “Jean-Luc, I want you to go to Giselle’s apartment on rue Galande. Question her. Use any means necessary to find out who put this tracking device in Aly’s bag. Understand? You may either interrogate her at her apartment or at the unit in our holding cell, just get the answers out of her. I want this ended so Aly has a measure of safety.”

  A slow smile spread across Jean-Luc’s face, and dread spread through Alyson. Much as she disliked Giselle, she wouldn’t want to be in her place when this man, who looked like he lived in a gym, paid her a visit.

  Jean-Luc closed his laptop. “Where will you be? You want me to find you or call?”

  “Call. Aly and I have plans for this evening.” His gaze swept over her. “Plans I made late last night. They can’t be changed, nor will I allow them to be changed.”

  Oh, Lord, now what?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “How is Marie-Clare, cherie?” Niko ran a hand up her back, turning his focus completely on her now that Jean-Luc exited the shop.

  Alyson replaced items into her shoulder bag. “Taking a long hot bath before going to bed. I told her we would lock up down here. She gave me a key. I think she’ll be okay. Her plans are to keep the shop closed for a few days.”

  “Good. Good. We’ll come back tomorrow to check on her. See if she needs help in any way.” Niko slipped the fermee sign in the window, indicating the shop was closed.

  “Is Jean-Luc one of the coworkers you suspect?”

  “No. He and I played together as children. In many ways, he is the brother I never had. We have a long history. I saved his life on an assignment in Algeria. He’s pulled my butt out of danger many times, too.” A faraway look shifted into his expression. “He kept me alive in Iran.”

  “I see.” She hoped he was right about his friend. Disloyalty tended to crumble a person’s emotional foundation. “Seeing Jean-Luc using his laptop reminded me of mine. Giselle said you took it to the office with you.”

  He snapped his fingers. “Yes, it’s in my briefcase. There were no viruses on it.”

  “Good.”

  “I have a special birthday surprise for you. Although for a while I thought…I feared I’d never be able to give it to you.” He took her hand. “Aly, I know we’ve talked about this already, but I can’t stress enough how important it is you stay where I know you are. I can’t protect you if you go away from me.”

  “If I stayed at the safe house, Josette would still be alive, wouldn’t she?”

  Niko’s eyes locked on hers. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’ll carry around the guilt of that forever. The fact I barely knew her doesn’t mean I feel her loss any less. She was another human being and she’s dead because I behaved impetuously.” Her gaze shifted to the piece of cloth covering the bloody red hand, and a shudder went through her. Another unwelcome thought slammed into her. If she’d stayed here, perhaps she would be dead instead of Josette. Then again, perhaps Marie-Clare, Josette, and she would be additional victims of Red Hand. She couldn’t imagine them killing her and leaving two witnesses to identify them.

  Niko raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “We are all at fault for behaving impetuously from time to time. Our emotions get the better of us. However, in reference to The Red Hand, we cannot allow our emotions to rule. We must act with tenacity and a strong sense of purpose. We must remain vigilant and levelheaded.”

  Alyson felt her lips twitch. “Oh, and were you being levelheaded when you punched the policeman who groped me?”

  Niko’s voice suddenly flashed with fury. “I will have his badge for touching you. No one hurts you and lives unscathed. No one, including me.” He reached to turn off the interior lights of the shop.

  “Niko…” How did she tell him she was warmed clear through to her soul by his heartfelt declaration? Chaz wouldn’t have come to her defense if two gunmen held Uzi’s to her head. Sometimes words weren’t enough.

  She laid both hands on the sides of his face and placed gentle kisses first on each of his cheeks, then one corner of his mouth and—encouraged by his deep groan—trailed her tongue across his lips to tenderly kiss the other corner of his mouth. Then before thinking through her actions, she bit his lower lip, ever so softly and took great delight in the rush of air that escaped from his mouth.

  His hands were at her waist, opening and closing, almost involuntary as she endeavored to show him what was in her heart. Once she bit his lower lip and then soothed it with her tongue, a bold move on her part, he banded both arms around her.

  Suddenly he turned, backing her up against the wall. “Aly…my God. You drive me insane with need.” Now it was his turn to take control. He rained kisses over her face and scraped her jaw with his teeth before capturing her lips for another kiss. Then he broke the kiss, threaded his fingers into her hair and stared into her eyes. “You scare me. You bring out feelings in me I swore I’d never feel for another woman. You’re making me weak with need for you.”

  He dipped his head and covered her lips with his, delving into her mouth with his tongue, claiming her, possessing her. For a few brief moments, like Marie-Clare, she saw the stars in his eyes, the magic of his soul and the goodness inside his heart.

  All Alyson could think of at this very sensual moment was how his need was making her stronger. She was desirable after all, and sensual. All the things that drove a man like Niko wild. No birthday present could dim the importance of the gift with which this handsome young man presented her.

  ****

  “Where are we going? This isn’t the safe house.”

  Niko reached out to punch a security code; the double wooden doors swung inward. He eased his Carrera into a small courtyard and parked beside two o
ther cars. “My home is on the second floor, although here in France, we refer to it as the first landing since retail establishments or other businesses occupy the ground floor. We need to shower and change for tonight. My tuxedo is here.” He got out of the car and came around to open her door.

  A few rain drops were splattering on the courtyard and potted plants. A couple cool drops ran down her face, and Alyson wiped them away. “Your tuxedo? Where are we going? I have nothing formal to wear?”

  “It’s all part of your birthday surprise. Tonight you will be pampered and cherished.” He took her elbow and led her inside the building. “Steps or lift?” He jerked his head in both directions. “I must warn you, the steps are quicker.”

  “I’m not going one step further until you tell me what’s going on. Where are we going? You know I have a limited wardrobe.” Wouldn’t she look like a schmuck wearing casual clothes while he had on a tux?

  He bounded up the steps, leaving her there. Halfway up, he turned and extended his hand. “Come, cherie, the magic of the night awaits. Van Gogh said, ‘I often think the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.’ Tonight I want to show you Van Gogh’s Starry Night.”

  She tilted her head and, pressing her palm to her breast, held her heart in place as it fell the rest of the way into love. “You’re kind of fanciful for a government agent.”

  He leaned over the banister. “My maman taught me to be fanciful. To embrace beauty whenever I see it. Why do you think I keep touching you and holding you close?”

  “Because you’re a man?”

  A smile, slow and dangerous, brightened his face. “Well, there is that. I want you close to me because you’re beautiful, not just inside where it counts, but also outside. Come upstairs, meet my maman and see your surprise.”