He studied her. “You do not plan on going home?”
She blinked back tears. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“Then I will get that for you; and later, we will talk.”
***
A couple weeks later, when Marisa felt well enough to walk about, she returned to the rocky shoreline. The wind teased the ends of her hair, and she remembered that just a week or so ago, she and Savvy had been driving in the car, talking and planning her party. That moment seemed like ages ago.
The vast Mediterranean Sea spread out before her. Any signs of Will’s murder attempt had been swallowed, the boat lying at the bottom. That’s where her secret must remain too.
Stephen and Savvy should’ve received her letter. She’d apologized and told them she loved them, but at this point in her life, needed time away to rethink her life. She’d be in touch.
They would not understand. They would think her selfish. They would possibly grow to hate her. Marisa held back the wave of sadness washing over her, stealing any joy or peace the monastery brought.
She glared at the waves, at the water, as if Will stood before her. Bitterness ate away at the edges of her soul. And deep inside where only the darkest of thoughts reside, she made a promise that someday he’d pay. One way or the other.
Fourteen
With shaky hands, Marisa punched in the key code at the back door of Will’s family home. How Adamos managed to get these things or where he learned these skills were a mystery to her.
She never questioned how he learned that Will lived with his family or how he managed to find their address.
The alarm clicked off and she entered. The carpet felt soft beneath her feet. The hint of cinnamon, maybe a candle, swirled around her. She stole through the kitchen, down a hallway and into the den.
A heavy oak desk sat in the back of the room, its pristine polish spoke of elegance and wealth. The walls were lined with bookshelves with heavy tomes about who knew what. Hadn’t the man heard of ebooks? Seriously.
She started with the desk, opening drawers, digging through papers, flipping through books. Nothing. But there was a picture. A family picture framed on the corner of the desk. Marisa zeroed in on Will. She wanted to circle his face with a red Sharpie and draw a big black X over it.
A silent scream tore up her insides. Where was the evidence? The family history? She sank into the plush leather swivel chair. She had to think like a villain. Of course, the information wouldn’t be lying around. It would be hidden. In a locked drawer. A secret box.
She headed to the small fireplace and touched the bricks on the inside. She pressed and searched for some kind of notch. But nothing. Then silently laughed. Secret compartments were only for movies.
A door shut farther away in the house.
Sweat broke out on her forehead and a queasy feeling seized her stomach. Had they returned? Or had someone been home the whole time?
“I forgot the files. I’ll be right back!” a voice roared.
Marisa searched the room. No long velvet curtains to hide behind. She pressed her body against the bricks surrounding the fireplace. She closed her eyes. This would be the end.
The doorknob to the den turned but the man paused and yelled to someone.
At that exact moment, Marisa gripped the bricks as if she could magically melt into them and turn invisible. She dropped her head back against the top brick, resigning herself to torture and captivity or whatever these people would do to her. As her head hit the brick, a panel in the wall adjacent to the fireplace slid open and musty air wafted out like a breath of hope.
Marisa dove into the opening. Frantically, she ran her hands up and down the inside wall searching for a flip or lever. Just as the man entered the room, Marisa’s hand hit a lever and the panel slid shut. Complete and utter darkness swallowed her.
She groped for her cell phone and turned it on. She flashed the light around the room. Filing cabinets, turned-over crates, and a desk. It wasn’t a large room. Just big enough to store secret documents about your family if they happened to be assassins.
She didn’t dare open the files in case they creaked. Instead, like the suave spy she was turning into, she crept to the back part of the room and squeezed behind a filing cabinet, then shut off her phone. It was in moments like this that she desperately wished she could shed the pounds.
A second later, the panel slid open again. A light switched on.
She sucked in her stomach and pressed against the wall.
“Are we on for tomorrow night?”
Marisa tried not to gasp. It was Will.
A deeper and older voice responded. “Yes, but I was thinking of bringing Malcolm on early. Let him get his feet wet.”
“He can take his turn and do his introductory year starting next month, just like I had to do.” Will’s voice was cold and Marisa could picture his narrowing eyes and thin mouth. Her body involuntarily shuddered.
The older man sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I hope he’s ready.” His voice dropped at the end of his sentence and the severity of his words settled in the room. “Over dinner, we’ll explain a bit to Malcolm about his role in the next year. Have you done the legwork?”
“Yes.” A certain haughtiness filled Will’s voice. “It’s all right here in the file. A Mr. Jolie Pouffant. A French pastry chef who is dabbling in more than confectionary sugar and croissants. He’s harmless but perfect for Malcolm’s testing year.”
“Perfect. Then let’s go. We don’t want Malcolm or your mother to come looking for us.”
The panel slid open and then shut. Once again, the darkness surrounded Marisa and their words invaded her head and beat a message in her heart. What were their full intentions with this pastry chef? She couldn’t let innocent men die. She slumped to the floor holding her middle. The muscles cramped from her holding her stomach in for so long.
With her eyes closed, she remembered the details of Will’s face. The strong jaw, straight nose, dark eyes, a very classic good-looking young man, one who stood tall and didn’t take crap from anyone.
Someday, probably not soon, but someday, she’d pay him back one hundred fold. She’d spend the rest of her life trying to protect the people they wanted to hurt. She might have been clueless and innocent before but not anymore.
She waited in the dark for what seemed like hours, too scared to move in case they were hovering outside the door waiting for her to give herself away. When her leg cramped for the fourth time, she realized they were gone and this was her chance. She wanted to spend hours looking through their secret files, digging up their evil past, but she couldn’t risk them returning.
The panel slid open and Marisa stole into the den. She blinked at the light in the room. The burden of her mission rested on her shoulders. A man’s life depended on her. Mr. Jolie Pouffant. She was the only one who knew his time was running short.
Marisa tracked her steps and left the house. A dog slept in the shadows. She barely gave him a glance as she scaled the stone wall and made it back to Adamos waiting patiently in the get-away car.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. We’ve got work to do.”
His gaze moved up and down her body. Marisa glanced down. Red marks scraped her arms from climbing the stone wall. Her hair fell in tangles around her face. She brushed it aside and returned his piercing gaze.
“Tell me,” he said.
“Paris. We need to go to Paris.”
Epilogue
Months later in Paris, Marisa cooked whole-wheat pasta in a small pot in their tiny kitchen in their even smaller rented apartment. It was nothing special. Just enough to meet their needs and enable them to melt into the lower class perfectly.
Weeks had gone by and no sign of Will.
Marisa dumped the noodles into a strainer, turning her head away from the billowing steam. “I’m beginning to wonder if I misheard Will and his father in their secret room.”
Adamos was completing his nig
htly sweep of the apartment: locking windows, closing shades, and checking the closets and any small hiding spots.
“He arrived last week. I’m sure we will see him soon. Be patient.”
Marisa set the food on the table, awed once more at Adamos’s ability to know things. Once they were seated, she sat with her fork poised in the air, spaghetti dangling off it in long strands. She studied her friend, contemplating his devotion to her.
“Why, Adamos?” She put her fork down. “Why are you doing so much for me? I get it, you saved my life, but why the continued devotion? You’ve been my best friend these past months. God knows I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” She looked away understanding what it was like to leave your family and feeling shame that he’d left his. “You left your brethren. For me.”
He chewed his spaghetti and swallowed, not hurrying, then rested his fork on his plate. “My calling to serve God is higher than my calling to stay in the monastery. The brethren understood that and released me. Visions from God are sacred.”
Marisa listened, soaking in his words, for Adamos rarely spoke of his life.
“Before you washed up on our shores, I experienced dreams, visions. The brethren laughed them off until more recently. That was when I knew my higher purpose. To protect the innocent. The next morning I found you. It was a sign. It was my time to leave the calling for a higher calling. Somehow you are connected to my visions and until I figure that out, I’m here to protect you.”
Marisa didn’t ask any more questions but ate her dinner. She hated knowing she might be responsible for his life, yet she didn’t know how she’d survive without him and didn’t want to let him go for he was her only family now. Sure, Adamos kept her updated on Stephen and Savvy’s well being but she couldn’t make contact without risking everything.
“For what it’s worth. Thank you.”
***
Late one afternoon, Marisa dressed like a college student with her hair in a ponytail and a baseball cap hiding her face. She wore ripped jeans and a baggy T-shirt.
At Les Pouffant’s, she huddled in the farthest corner, a laptop propped on her knees and a line of coffee cups on the table. A slight breeze whispered through the air, holding a bit of unexpected warmth and hope. The bright sun played off her sunglasses.
Someone laughed. She turned.
Feelings rushed over Marisa. Her heart cried out and she wanted to leap from the chair, but instead, she shrank in on herself, terrified she’d be spotted.
Stephen and Savvy took seats across from her on the opposite side of the patio. They were in France? Why? Were they here to look for her? How long had they been here?
She didn’t try to ask the questions but instead took a selfish moment to soak in her family. Stephen ran his fingers through his hair as usual. He’d lost weight. Probably only something she’d notice. He acted chipper, keeping up conversation and trying to laugh. Savvy sat across from him, not responding.
Marisa’s heart broke a little bit. Savvy looked the role of a rebellious teenager, and Stephen was trying his hardest to draw her out. He jabbered on about something, but Savvy never responded.
Past the angry looks and folded arms, Savvy looked dejected. Sadness lingered on her features, her eyes, the way her smile curved down when no one was looking.
The mother bear in Marisa rose, and she stood. She took one step closer to them and then another. She’d try and explain and hug them and they’d forgive her. They could move somewhere and lose themselves so no one could find them.
Not even Will.
Panic prickled the back of her neck, and Marisa stopped. She turned and rushed to pack up her stuff. What was she thinking? She couldn’t reveal herself. What if Will was watching them?
She shoved the laptop back in the bag and didn’t even bother to clean up her table or leave a tip. She stumbled away.
Feeling numb and barely paying attention to the traffic, she made her way to the apartment Will had put in her name. It had been months. Of course, he’d closed it up. Unless…unless he hoped she’d return or that her family would.
Not caring who was watching, she raced up to the windows and looked inside.
Suitcases. Coats. Stephen’s old travel bags. Stephen and Savvy had found the papers to this place. They’d moved here. Probably to get away from memories. And they’d moved right into the path of a hurricane. What would Will think? He’d assume that she’d talked to them, that they knew about her ancestry and…and that they were possibly here to stop his family.
She sank to the ground outside one of the windows. Minutes later, Marisa rose, her face wet with misgivings, and trudged back to her small apartment she’d shared with Adamos.
Somehow she’d make up for her mistakes. She’d protect her family.
Somehow.
…follow the adventures of eighteen-year-old Savvy in A Spy Like Me, continued in Heart of an Assassin, and ending in Twist of Fate.
Check laurapauling.com for more information.
Thank you so much for reading Marisa’s adventures in espionage! I’d appreciate it if you’d post a review. Thanks!
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If you’ve finished the Circle of Spies Series and wondering what to read next, check out Prom Impossible (FREE!), the first book in a young adult romantic comedy series. Or you might enjoy, Heist, a time travel mystery.
Again, here are the links to all my books.
A Spy Like Me
Heart of an Assassin
Vanishing Point
Twist of Fate
Prom Impossible (Free!)
Prompossible Plans
Covert Kissing
Heist
A Royal Heist (2015)
About Laura
Laura writes about spies, murder and mystery. She’s the author of the exciting Circle of Spies Series, the Prom Impossible books and the time travel mystery books, Heist and A Royal Heist (2015). She’s a former elementary teacher and currently lives in New England. After spending time reading books to her kids and loving a good plot turn, she put her fingers to the keyboard. Stories are way more exciting. She writes to entertain and experience a great story…and to be able to work in her jammies and slippers.
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Redpoint Press
Vanishing Point: Circle of Spies, novella
Copyright 2013 Laura Pauling
First e-book edition, 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, except for brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog or broadcast.
Summary: Marisa Bent follows a young, arrogant assassin into the heart of trouble to protect her family and learn the secrets of her past, but one wrong move and she could lose everything.
Edited by Cindy Davis
Cover design by Novak Illustration
Find out more at laurapauling.com
Contents
Summary
title page
copyright
Also by Laura
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Epilogue
About Laura
on Archive.
Vanishing Point (Circle of Spies Novella) Page 8