Mona Lisa's Room

by Vonnie Davis

  Viviana carried an ice bucket with a bottle of bubbly chilling and three champagne flutes. “Oh, I am so glad to hear you say that. A strong man wants his woman equally strong. Only weak men seek to belittle and control. My dear, you are exactly the woman my son needs. A good Italian woman.” She popped the cork and filled the glasses. “I hope you decide to stay. My Niko needs you. Did you see how he responded to your kiss? I think he loves it when you take charge. He would never allow anyone else to do that. He has always been so…well, so controlling.”

  Alyson thought of the morning she blindfolded this woman’s son and took charge of their love making. Her body heated, melting in spots as she remembered how good it was to be with Niko.

  “You’re blushing! Look, Viviana, she’s blushing. Oh, sister, do tell…”

  “No way. Just use that terrific imagination of yours. Some memories are too precious to share, even with one’s baby sister.”

  Viviana laughed. “Well said. Now, let us have a toast, my beautiful ladies.” She raised her flute. “To my future daughter-in-law and my two new friends.” Three glasses clinked together. “I have two more bottles chilling. If we get tipsy, those three handsome men in the next room can just take care of us.” She wiggled her eyebrows and took a long drink.

  Gwen kicked Alyson’s ankle and opened her eyes dramatically. “Well, well.” She smiled into her glass.

  “Where’s Rhiannon?”

  “She went to stay with her other grandparents for a month shortly before we heard about your shooting.”

  “So she doesn’t know?”

  “No, thank goodness.” Gwen sipped her champagne. “Oh, the bubbles do tickle your nose. I’ve never had this before.”

  Viviana topped off Gwen’s glass. “Well, then, Jean-Luc could be in big trouble. I saw how you were eating him up with your eyes. The young man is like a son to me. He has been in and out of my home since he was a little boy. His father was French and his mother Hungarian. A few months after Jean-Luc’s father died, his mother moved back to Budapest. I keep an eye on him for Durda.” She reached for one of the pastries. “Now, tell us about Villerville.”

  ****

  Niko had never met a more obstinate man. Unless, of course, he looked in the mirror. He had to admit he respected Tony Tofolli for the strength of his character and for the years he’d devoted to law enforcement. If he were going to marry the man’s daughter—and he damned well would—he needed to establish a relationship, no matter how tenuous.

  “Are we in agreement then?” His gaze swept to Tony.

  “Yes, suppose so now you told me everything.” The older man slumped into a leather chair. “My God…my God…terrorists…slashed throats…bloody handprints. I can’t believe my daughter got drawn into this mess.” The man looked pale. “Law enforcement in a small Southern town is certainly a lot different than all this. Most we have are traffic violations, drunk and disorderly and minor robberies.” He made a distasteful face. “Once in a while we have some domestic violence. But nothin’ like this.”

  “Jean-Luc, how about pouring each of us a snifter of brandy? I don’t know about Tony”—he turned to Aly’s dad—“may I call you Tony, sir?”

  The man gave a wave of his hand and nodded in assent.

  “Thank you. I think we could all use a drink.”

  They sprawled in their respective seats, sipping brandy. “I meant it when I said I want to marry your daughter. I hope once you get to know me, you’ll give us your blessing. That’s very important to both of us. My papa and I were very close. I understand all too well Aly’s love and respect for you.”

  Tony narrowed his eyes as if taking Niko’s measure. “She’s already been hurt once. That man sucked the life right outta her. Certainly you can understand my qualms. You two just meetin’ and all. Then there’s the matter of you livin’ on the other side of the Atlantic.”

  “I understand. All I ask for is a chance. Frankly, Aly’s ex-husband had no clue as to the quality of the woman he married.”

  Tony’s bushy unibrow rose at that remark.

  “She’s a strong woman. Interesting. Funny when she wants to be. Intelligent…highly intelligent. I like that about her.”

  He liked a lot of things about her, like how she responded to his touch or how she made him lose control. She was the only person he ever connected with on that deepest of levels to experience such a towering intensity of trust. He could not, would not lose her.

  Earlier when she stormed into the den and kissed him in front of her dad, he was shocked and reassured. Desperation choked him minutes prior to her kiss. He was sure he was losing the woman he loved. The woman who in so short a time had become the very air he breathed. So when she waltzed in and in her unique way reassured him, his love for her deepened, just as it deepened every time he touched her or heard her laughter or saw passion spark in her fabulous blue eyes.

  Seeing her reunion with her family earlier—the hugging, the kissing, the tears—he realized how unfair he was to expect her to give them up. She obviously loved them as much as he loved his family. Although he knew it on a surface level, he ignored the magnitude and depth of it. Why had that been so hard for him to grasp?

  He was being selfish, that’s why. He loved her so much—hell, needed her so much—he was ignoring her needs. If they were going to mature as a couple, concessions were required on his part, compromises made. So be it.

  Tony sipped his brandy. “You think you can keep this pretense of her death goin’?”

  “I think so. Proper death certificates were filed. Other than you and Gwen, the only people who know the truth are my family, my best friend,” Niko motioned to Jean-Luc with his brandy snifter, “and the lady I’m buying the apartment from, Marie-Clare. We all have to get used to calling her Cally. With her new hairdo, she does look different.”

  Jean-Luc leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “What about colored contacts to change her eyes? I know a good place to get them.”

  “Good idea. I just hate to cover those blue eyes of hers.” Her soft blue eyes were the first thing about her that attracted him. “You’re right though, they would help.”

  “I’ll order brown. Brown eyes are more prevalent. She’ll stand out less.” Jean-Luc pulled out his cell and punched in a number. He rose and walked to gaze out the window while he placed his order.

  “Feeling any better about this, sir?”

  Tony drained the last of his brandy. “How could a father feel better ’bout anything like this?”

  Jean-Luc ended his call. “I’m on my way to Notre Dame’s plaza. A courier will meet me at the statue of Charlemagne with the contacts. I’ll be back shortly.” He strode out the door.

  Tony watched Jean-Luc leave. “Big muscled galoots like him make me nervous. Is all this cloak and dagger stuff really necessary?” Tony glared at Niko. “Who is that muscle-bound kid gettin’ contacts from? Why can’t my daughter walk into some optical place and get them herself?”

  “Our department uses a couple suppliers. They’re all quality companies. By meeting them elsewhere, we keep that all important layer of anonymity for Aly’s safety. We always have to assume we’re being watched. So we engage extra measures.”

  “What a way to live.” Tony shook his head several times in disgust.

  “You’re right there. I tire of it myself sometimes. At least I can use the information and techniques I’ve learned these last nine years to protect the woman I love. That is a man’s duty after all, is it not?”

  For the first time, Tony smiled. “You know, I’m beginnin’ to like you. Now, back to my daughter. I still want to take her home to the States. Yet you insist if I do, she won’t be safe.”

  “Did you read or hear about the killings at a restaurant in Atlanta? Five, six months ago?”

  “Yes. Now that you mention it. Four people were killed by some kinda bomb.”

  Niko nodded. “That was The Red Hand.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Authorities did not reveal th
ere was a bloody handprint on an unaffected wall of the building. They were afraid the media would have the locals in hysterics.”

  Air whooshed out of the older man’s lungs. “Dear God.” He ran a hand down his craggy face. “You sure ’bout that?”

  “Yes. I flew over to give assistance. The Red Hand’s members are far-flung, but the bulk of their crimes happen on French soil. Members are mainly Algerian, many of whom hate the French, and Iranian, who hate Americans. They have a focused ideology.”

  “Which is?”

  “The Red Hand started after the invasion of Iraq. Since France and England helped America with the invasion, those three countries were targeted. The Red Hand wants outside influences to leave the Middle East. They want no part of capitalism or Western forms of thought. From all the intelligence I’ve studied, they are a small group, about a hundred, led by intelligent, diabolical and influential people.”

  Niko stood and poured more brandy into Tony’s snifter. “My problem has been sifting through the many layers of deception and protection they use to shield their identity. Over the years I’ve apprehended several of their underlings. I’ve yet to catch a king-pin.”

  “Has to be damned frustrating.”

  “You have no idea. My biggest concern where Aly is concerned is if she goes home, where I can’t stay on top of things, she’ll be in danger. Of that I’m certain. One more thing to consider, if she goes home, she also puts her family in The Red Hand’s crosshairs. Aly loves that niece of hers.”

  The man paled again. “Not my sugar dumplin’. They wouldn’t hurt a child, would they?”

  “It’s never stopped them before.”

  Tony stood and paced the room. “I’ll do all I can at home to keep my family safe. You’ve got me damned scared now, son. Since Gwen’s husband—damned fine man—was killed in Iraq, I’ve taken over as a father figure with that sweet child. She reminds me a lot of Alyson when she was small. Same big-eyed enthusiasm. Same love of color and art.”

  The man just had to say that, didn’t he? Now Rhiannon was vividly important to Niko, too. His mind snagged on the vision of this child as a younger version of his Aly.

  “I’ll make a list of precautions. I can make a few suggestions of home security systems. I’d be glad to make a few calls to firms in Asheville. Set things up for you. Wouldn’t hurt for you to contact the police there. Apprise them of the situation and give them my name and number. General courtesies one must observe in the political arena of law enforcement.”

  “Pissin’ on someone else’s territory, you mean?”

  “Exactly. Now, would you mind telling the ladies what we have planned? I need to do some things in here, go over some new intelligence Jean-Luc had with him.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “If you’d close the door on your way out, please, I’d appreciate it.” Niko moved to his desk and powered up his computer. He opened a file and wrote a report of sorts, listing all the events since he met Aly. In bullet form, he listed questions plaguing him about each instance of The Red Hand’s involvement. Rather than risking e-mailing it to himself at work, he opened his desk drawer to retrieve a disc.

  One of the questions he had involved the security within his unit. Giselle’s death confirmed his suspicions someone in his department was associated with The Red Hand. The question remained: was she the only one? He took no chances.

  The first case he removed from the drawer was cracked, so he tossed it away. He shuffled through supplies looking for another one. When his fingertips wrapped around one in the back, he pulled it out. “Madrid with Hae-Won” was printed across the top.

  For reasons he couldn’t explain, he slipped it into his DVD player and moved to the sofa to watch it. Her smiling face popped onto his television screen. After her death, he watched this video several times a day, hitting pause and rewind until he memorized every smile, every blink of her eye, every nuance of her beautiful face. Viewing it this time, he smiled briefly. “Hello, beautiful. Time to say good-bye.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alyson was surprised by her dad’s change of mood when he came out of the den after talking with Niko. He seemed in agreement with plans made during the male confab as he relayed them to Gwen and her. They would spend nights in a safe house. Not the one she’d stayed at, but a larger one in a different location.

  “Buttercup, your young man convinced me you’d be safer here for a while. Don’t like it none, but your safety’s what’s important.” He settled next to Viviana on one of the sofas.

  “Of course she’ll be safer with my Niko watching over her. I’m glad you’re wise enough to see that. May I get you some champagne, Tony? We’re having a girl’s celebration, but there’s always room for a handsome man.” Viviana flashed a smile, and darned if her dad didn’t return it with a smile of his own—and a wink.

  Alyson’s head swiveled to gape at Gwen. Her sister slapped her hand over her eyes and shook her head once.

  Conversation flowed as did the champagne.

  When Jean-Luc returned from wherever he secretly hurried off to, he sat next to Alyson, a small white bag in his hand. “You ever wear contacts?” He removed a little box from the bag.

  “Yes, for years until I had laser surgery to correct my astigmatism . Why do you ask?”

  “Good. That’ll make all this easier on you. Niko thought you could further change your looks with colored contacts. That’s where I went on my errand. I bought some saline solution, too. I chose brown since most people have brown eyes, plus the color goes with your darker hair.”

  Alyson inserted them with practiced movements. She blinked a couple times, wiping away the natural tears that trickled down. “How do I look?”

  Gwen stood in front of her. “Let me see? Oh, they really do change your appearance. Don’t you think so, Dad? Between the new hairdo and darker eyes, I don’t see how anyone could recognize you.”

  Her dad leaned forward in his seat. “Darned if Gingersnap ain’t right. See what Niko thinks, Buttercup.”

  “Gingersnap? Buttercup?” Jean-Luc snickered.

  His reaction obviously irked her dad. “Don’t suppose your parents ever had pet names for you as you were comin’ up. I’ll give you one: no neck.”

  “Dad!” Gwen jumped to Jean-Luc’s defense. Was everyone pairing off here? Dad and Viviana. Gwen and Jean-Luc. Frankly, the situation was rather comical.

  “Easy now, old man.” Jean-Luc extended a hand in a stop gesture.

  “Old man!” her dad sputtered, his face turning crimson.

  Viviana placed a hand on his arm. “Walk out on the balcony with me, Tony, so I can get some fresh air. I feel a slight headache coming on. Allow me to show you the lovely view we have of the Notre Dame Cathedral. My husband fell in love with the view when we were hunting for a larger apartment to raise our growing family.” The two walked out, but not before her dad’s eyes shot daggers at Jean-Luc one more time.

  The younger man had the good sense to wait until Dad and Viviana stepped onto the balcony before he chuckled. “I like him. You always know where you stand with a man like that. No pretense. Just honesty. I like that. Rudeness I can handle. Kind of an expert on it myself.”

  He stood, crumpling the bag in his massive hands. “Come on. I want the boss to see you in those contacts.” He led the way to the den and opened the door.

  Niko’s back was to them. The television screen filled with a beautiful woman sitting at an outdoor café. She was talking, animated, almost angry in her attitude. Alyson’s heart stuttered. That voice! A cold chill raced up her spine, slapped her in the back of the head and ran back down.

  “Who…who is she? I know that voice,” she whispered to Jean-Luc.

  “Damn, I thought he was through with this obsession. That’s Hae-Won.” He, too, kept his voice lowered.

  She squinted, focusing on the woman’s face when the camera zoomed in. She turned to Jean-Luc and grabbed his arms. “It’s her! She’s the smallest of the gunmen who
took me. The one who threatened to shoot baby Olivia.”

  Jean-Luc’s gaze slid from hers to the television screen and back to hers again. He blinked several times as if computing the information. “You’re sure about this?

  Alyson studied the woman on the screen and began trembling with recognition. Hae-Won was the woman who shot her. In the video, the younger woman, evidently angry, flicked her long black hair over her shoulder with a movement of her wrist. “Fool, your baseless arrogance fuels my hatred.”

  When Alyson turned to the man beside her, his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. She led Jean-Luc away from the doorway, and he gently closed the door. “Did you hear that remark? The one about his arrogance fueling her hatred? She said the same thing to me. The exact same words in the same exact way.”

  “Come into the kitchen with me.” Jean-Luc took her arm and led her away from the man she loved. The man so engrossed in watching a video of his lost love he never registered their presence in the same room. He’d been oblivious to everything but the image of Hae-Won.

  “You’re sure about this?” Jean-Luc plucked an apple from a basket on the counter.

  “Yes. Same voice. Same eyes. Same face. Granted it was dark when I yanked off her ski mask, but I saw enough to recognize her.”

  Jean-Luc bit into the apple and chewed. “If you’re right, that would mean…”

  “Right. That would mean Hae-Won is alive. Not only that, but she’s part of the terrorist ring. One of the leaders by the way she acted.” Her mind raced with all the possible scenarios. “I wonder if Hae-Won joined The Red Hand before or after she met Niko. Was she using him all along, do you think? Was their whole affair a sham?”

  The muscled man scowled at her as he decimated the apple, obviously weighing her questions and forming his own opinions.

  “We never saw her body. We were told it was shipped to her home in Korea and her parents had her cremated. I wondered at the time if their culture, their religion permitted that. Some cultures are funny about the care of deceased family members. But my focus at the time was on Niko. We weren’t sure if doctors could save his leg. His emotional state over losing Hae-Won was so damned fragile. His mother still doesn’t know I put him on suicide watch.”