by Vonnie Davis
“How often are your building codes changed?”
“The concierge never changes them. She says it’s too hard to remember new codes.”
Jean-Luc stepped onto the sidewalk. “I saw a car speeding away when we drove up. They were just turning the corner. You were ahead of me, did you notice it?”
“Yeah, the car stopped to pick up a passenger. Silver Renault. About four years old. Dented rear bumper. License plate number Apple, Zebra, Tango, Valentine, forty-nine.”
“I’ll call it in. That might have been them.” Jean-Luc turned to his car.
Niko walked up the street in the direction the car with the dented fender drove. There was an empty parking space. He swung the flashlight’s beam over the sidewalk, looking for something, anything. An object on the sidewalk caught his eye. Aly’s bangle bracelet. She was leaving him clues. She was alive and leaving him clues. God, I love an intelligent woman.
Two men, one in a robe and pajamas, stood further up the sidewalk, talking and waving their arms.
Niko jogged toward them. “What’s going on?”
One of his neighbors, Louis, turned. “Niko, the police should do something about this. We have a good neighborhood here. We pay our taxes for protection.”
“Yes, we pay too much taxes. Exorbitant. Where are the police when you need them? This cannot happen in our well-to-do neighborhood.”
“What are you talking about?” He didn’t have time to listen to their anti-tax rant, but maybe they saw or heard something.
“Gunfire. Someone was shooting here in our neighborhood.” Louis stepped closer. “On our street.”
Aly! Had the terrorists been shooting at Aly? “Where? When?”
“Just now. Right here.”
Niko flashed the light beam beyond where they were standing. He turned and peered across the street. It looked like a dark form. He aimed his flashlight in that direction as he started to walk toward it. Without thinking, he broke into a run. He recognized those red shoes.
“Aly! Aly, good God!” Blood soaked her blouse and pooled under her head. She’d been shot in the back. Shaky fingers pressed against the artery in her neck. There was a faint pulse. Air whooshed from his chest. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath, but he was so scared. He couldn’t lose her. He jerked his phone from his pocket and dialed for emergency crews.
He turned to the two men across the street. “Louis, get Jean-Luc. He’s in my courtyard.”
“Oui, Niko.” Louis hurried down the street while the man in his bed clothes rushed over.
The dispatcher repeated Niko’s information for confirmation. She assured him an ambulance was on the way.
Niko yanked off his shirt, buttons flying, striking the sidewalk with a ding. Crushing the shirt in his hands, he applied pressure to the bullet wound. “I’m here, Aly. I’m right here, cherie.”
“I know some first aid if I can be of assistance.” The man in the robe and pajamas knelt next to Niko. “Do you know the woman? Is she someone special to you?”
Niko nodded, his one hand pressed to her cheek while the other kept his shirt firmly on her wound. “Oui, Monsieur. She’s the woman I love.”
The man stood and removed his robe. “Here, young man. Cover your lady with this.”
The siren of an approaching ambulance echoed off the stone façade of the ancient buildings he loved and studied from the time of his adolescence. Buildings that witnessed Viking invasions, Roman chariots, German occupation and floods.
Now, in this most painful of moments, his beloved historical events paled. Only this warm, intelligent, strong woman mattered. Only her. Niko covered her with the neighbor’s robe and leaned close to press a kiss to her forehead. “Stay with me.” He swallowed his fear, willing her to live. “Stay with me, mon amour.”
Chapter Seventeen
Jean-Luc charged up the street and hunkered next to Niko. He started checking her pulse. “How bad, buddy?”
“Bullet wound. Upper left back. Don’t know if it went straight through. Didn’t want to move her.” Niko turned as the ambulance screeched to a halt. Emergency personnel jumped out.
Jean-Luc attempted to pull Niko back. “Let them do their job.”
Niko pivoted around Aly, never once breaking contact with her face. “She has to know I’m still here.” He leaned over her head, feathering soft kisses to her cold, clammy brow. “Help is here, cherie. Hang on. Hang on, mon amour.”
Jean-Luc squeezed Niko’s shoulder. “Move back, man. She can’t hear you. She’s unconscious.”
“I’m not leaving her,” he stated through clenched jaws. He took a deep breath, making a conscious effort to relax his tense muscles. “I’ve left her too many times already—and always for the damned job. Don’t you get it? She’s more important than the job.”
“Wait, what’s this in her hand?” Jean-Luc uncurled her fingers and removed a black ski cap. “I’ll take this to the lab, see if there’s hair or other DNA.”
The emergency crew placed Aly on a stretcher and lifted her into the ambulance. Niko hopped in behind her and turned to Jean-Luc. Then in the illumination created by the blinking lights of the ambulance, he saw it—the bloody handprint on the front of the building where Aly was shot.
Rage erased fear.
Now the job was personal.
Niko pointed to the handprint. “Get that thing scrubbed off before my family sees it.”
Jean-Luc turned in the direction he pointed and nodded.
“Tell Maman what’s happened. See if Aly’s shoulder bag is in the apartment. Get her cell phone and run malware on it to check for tracking systems. Giselle had some information about them on her bedside table. Maybe that’s how they knew she was here. It’s the only thing I can think of.”
“Will do.”
The attendant slammed the back doors of the ambulance and, in a matter of seconds, it was off, racing to the Hôpital Saint-Louis.
Nearly two hours later, Viviana rushed into the emergency department. Niko stood, and they embraced. “Thanks for coming. I need the company.” I need someone to tamper these overwhelming feelings of revenge. Darkness had invaded his soul.
“Have you heard anything?” She handed him a folded clean shirt. “Jean-Luc said to bring you this.”
“No. Nothing. That has to be good news, right? At least that’s what I keep telling myself.” He shook out the blue and white striped shirt and slipped it on, after removing the T-shirt stained with Aly’s blood. Once he had it buttoned and tucked into his navy slacks, she handed him a thermos of coffee.
“There was so much blood, Maman.” He sat and poured coffee into the lid. “Thanks for the coffee. You always know what I need.” He sipped. “Ah, nectar of the gods. Hits the spot, as they say in America.” He leaned his head against the wall and exhaled a long shaky breath.
“I know how you hate drinking coffee from a paper cup.”
Viviana sat and patted his thigh. “Aly is strong, healthy and determined. A good Italian girl. She will make it.”
He sipped more coffee. “I love her, Maman.”
“I know this. I knew it the moment I saw how you looked at her. There was such love in your eyes. More than you ever had with Hae-Won, I would venture.”
“Hae-Won was different. My feelings for her, I mean. Not that I could describe them at this point. Lately I’ve been having trouble recalling the details of her face.”
“Understandable. It’s been two years since her death.”
Niko regarded his mother. “Can you recall Papa’s face?”
Viviana smiled and ran the backs of her fingers down his cheek. “Yes, every time I look at you, I see your father. You have his eyes and his mouth. Same smile. Same strong jawline. He was such a loving man, so devoted to his family. Do you know Aly yearns for a child?”
“I overheard her telling Renee about not being able to conceive.”
She picked at an imaginary piece of lint on her sleeve, a gesture he recognized. “I wonde
r if the right man would make the difference in that department.”
“Is this your way of finding out if my intentions are honorable? First, the right man has to see she recovers. Then he has to convince her to stay in Paris.” He sipped his coffee, a slow smile blooming. “Still, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. How’s Renee?”
“Still shaken. Marcel rushed over and took her and the baby home. If you could have seen the terror on Renee’s face while one of the gunmen held her child.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “Our sweet Olivia. What a nightmare. All Renee and I could do was tremble and cry, but Aly was strong. She reared her shoulders back and bared her teeth at them. She showed no fear.” Viviana smiled. “She was indomitable. The woman is perfect for you.”
Niko took his mother’s hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Yes, she is, Maman. Now, describe the gunmen to me. Tell me everything.”
Viviana leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes as if reliving the scene. “There were two of them. Dressed completely in black, including black ski masks.”
“Did you get close enough to see the color of their eyes?”
“The smaller one, the female…”
He shifted in his seat, his gaze intent on his mother. “Female?”
She nodded, her eyes still closed. “Yes. Petite. Thin. Same build as Hae-Won. Dark brown eyes. Tattoo around her wrist.” Viviana pointed to her own wrist.
“Could you describe the tattoo?”
“Looked like two strands of barbed wire wrapped around the wrist. Ugly thing.” She shuddered.
Niko thought of Aly’s butterfly tat and smiled. He would kiss it again one day just to hear that sweet intake of breath she did when he touched her. The job, man. Concentrate on the job.
“What else, Maman?”
“The woman talked with an accent. Oriental, I think. Oh, I was so upset at the time, I’m not sure. I do recall both carried black weapons, but different.”
“Pistols or rifles?”
“The man held a rifle with handles underneath that he gripped.” She gestured with her hands.
He smiled at her description. “The woman? What kind of weapon did she have?”
“Black revolver. Thick. Like those mafia types carry in those ghastly James Bond movies you watch.”
“Describe the male gunman.”
“Tall, but not as tall as you. Barrel-chested. Lighter colored eyes. I think either green or hazel. He didn’t talk. The woman seemed in charge. She was explosive…like she was on the edge. Maybe under the influence of drugs. Who knows?” Viviana opened her eyes and shrugged.
A doctor approached, Niko stood. “Let me talk, Maman. Do not speak to him, no matter what he says.”
His mother looked at him, a quizzical expression on her face. “As you wish.”
“Are you the policeman with the female shooting victim? Alice Newman.”
He nudged his maman when she cleared her throat. “Yes. How is she?”
“We removed the bullet. She suffered a large loss of blood from the wound. Severe concussion.”
“She must have fallen on the sidewalk after she was shot.”
The doctor nodded. “That would account for the concussion and the bruises to the one side of her face. Removal of the bullet was tedious, but I succeeded.” He held out a plastic bag containing the bullet wrapped in gauze. Niko noted it was a 9mm. “I presume you’ll want this for evidence.”
“Yes.” Niko took the bag and shoved it in his pocket. “How much damage did the bullet do?”
“Well, as I stated, there was a great loss of blood, but there were no internal damages other than muscles and tendons, which I repaired. No organs were hit. She should recover nicely. Although, she may suffer dizziness and headaches for a couple days as a result of the concussion.” He shrugged. “This, too, shall fade.”
Niko exhaled a long sigh of relief. “How long will she be hospitalized?”
“I’d like to keep her here for three days, minimum.”
“She needs protection. Her abusive and maniacal husband is after her, so I would like to remove her as quickly as possible. Not so soon as to harm her recovery, of course.”
The doctor’s eyes locked on his. “Abusive?”
“Yes. He has been known to harm those who protect her.”
“Would he dare come in this hospital? Could the staff and other patients be in danger?”
Niko shoved his hands into his pants pockets, feeling the offending bullet with one hand. This ruse was necessary to protect Aly. “Quite possibly, yes. When can I remove the patient without harming her?”
The doctor ran a hand across the back of his neck, his exhaustion evident in his stance. “Forty-eight hours.” He held up a finger. “Unless infection sets in. Then she has to stay.”
“Of course. May I see her now? I will also need your permission to stay with her regardless of visitor’s hours. She needs my protection. Also, I want to station a policeman outside her room.”
The doctor shook his head. “I hate these domestic violence situations. You never know what will happen. I will leave word with the senior nurse in her ward. I am going to examine her again. You may come along.”
****
Alyson floated through a gray mental haze. Some kind of machine beeped. Tape covered her mouth and a tube was down her throat. Her hand hurt, a constant burning sensation is if a needle were in it. From time to time something around her arm squeezed, reminding her of a blood pressure cuff. Why did she hurt so much? Where…? Gray haze darkened.
The next time she floated into awareness, she heard voices, low voices.
“I found malware in her phone. Took me a while to get the tracking program out, but the phone’s clean now.”
“You’re sure. I can’t take any more chances. I have to keep her safe.”
Niko’s voice. Niko was here, but where was here? She tried to speak. All that escaped was a grunt.
“Aly? Aly, are you awake?”
Her eyes fluttered open. She blinked. Niko came into view. He leaned down and kissed her forehead and cheek. “Mon amour,” he breathed against her cheek.
Wait, mon amour…didn’t that mean…? The grayness pulled at her again.
Sometime later, she was jerked into wakefulness. “Madame Newman, wake up for us, please. We want to remove the tube from your throat.” What name did the nurse just call her? The nurse’s accent was so thick, it was hard to understand her English pronunciation. Mercy, she felt “muzzle-headed” as her momma used to say.
Although the nurse’s actions were swift and competent, Alyson gagged at the process. The nurse handed her a cup of water. “Please drink some ice water. It will soothe your throat. Oui?” The nurse began changing her bandage. “You must try to stay awake for a few minutes. Move your legs to increase the circulation. Then we will walk across the room for some exercise.” Had the nurse called her Mademoiselle Moore or Newman? Her mind was so foggy, she couldn’t tell. Must be the drugs.
“Where am I?” Her voice croaked. She had a sore throat, no doubt from that tube.
“You are at Hôpital Saint-Louis. You’ve had surgery to remove a bullet and repair the damages. You have bruises on your face. I’m going to give you an icepack to hold against your cheek. Do you have a headache, Mademoiselle?”
“Massive. Hurts to open my eyes.”
The nurse glanced quickly toward the door and then leaned over Alyson. “Keep your eyes open so you can see the official guarding you. He is handsome and virile.” She smiled. “I will be in quite often to check on you.” Her eyebrows wiggled in a suggestive way.
Even in her drugged state, jealousy surfaced. “He’s already taken.” The words were out before she thought them through. Perhaps she moved on from her old habit of weighing her words before she spoke them. Or was this a result of the drugs, too?
The nurse smiled. “Oh, I see. Very well, then. I’ll just look. No flirting.”
“How long h
ave I been here? What time of day is it?”
“You were brought in last night. It is after ten in the morning now. If the sunlight bothers you, I will close the drapes as soon as I change your dressing.”
****
Niko leaned against the corridor wall outside Aly’s hospital room. He was exhausted. He made four calls, saving his call to Gwen for last. Telling her Aly had been shot drained the last of his energy. Gwen asked him some hard questions. So had Henri when he called him earlier to report in. One could say the man’s gout ripened his normally sarcastic mood. Their conversation had not gone well.
He lied to his boss and hoped if the truth ever came out, he could make Henri understand. For now the world had to believe Alyson was dead. Only those whom he trusted with his life could know the truth. Henri wasn’t one of them. Not that the man wasn’t trustworthy, he just didn’t like Niko. His boss merely tolerated him.
His conversation with Marcel when he called to check in on Renee hadn’t gone well, either. His sister’s husband was understandably upset his wife and baby were placed in danger. Hell, he wasn’t happy about it, either. His call to Marie-Clare was less stressful. Still, she and Aly formed a quick bond. Understandable with Aly being sweet Aly.
The door opened. “Monsieur, you may come in now. Mademoiselle Newman should stay awake for five more minutes, then try to get her to rest. Keep the ice pack against her face for thirty minutes or so.”
“Thank you.” He stepped inside Aly’s room and closed the door. “Hey, gorgeous, I see the nurse took that tube out. How are you feeling?”
“Rough. How did I get here? Ambulance?”
Niko took her hand and pressed a kiss in her palm. He rested a hip against the side of her bed, still holding her hand. “I found you in a heap at the end of my street and called for an ambulance.”
“Yes, I remember now. I was running for the Seine.”
His eyebrows rose. “The Seine?”
She focused her soft blue eyes on him. “I was thinking better to be wet than dead.”
The woman unmanned him. He leaned in and nuzzled her neck, framing her head with his hands. “Am I hurting you?”
