In the Name of Glori (The Redemption Series: Book 3)

by Maeve Christopher

  Before Cin and Debbie left that night, Cindy vowed to get Alain and me in the same spot together so we could work it out. After all, it was just another misunderstanding.

  “Yeah, Cin, good luck getting a secret agent any place he doesn’t want to be.”

  When she hugged me, I knew it was hopeless.

  ***

  That night I wrote about five letters to Alain and burned them all. I was no writer, and I figured the only thing a letter would do is dig me deeper in a hole. Besides, he was the one that was being evasive. Even though he was supposedly on assignment, he could have contacted me. He knew where to find me.

  I wondered how much longer I could live in “our” house without going crazy. Maybe getting away to Vienna would do me good. Not that it would do David any good. Oh brother. Life was too friggin’ complicated.

  Chapter Nine

  Practically everyone in the whole extended family ended up in Vienna for the International Commerce Convention. David’s father, Frederick, was on the hospitality committee, and our heroes were in charge of security for the grand event.

  Dominguez Construction had a booth there. Cin brought me over to see their display, and it was impressive. They’d built some major buildings all around the world. What I thought was funny—the employees treated Papa Roberto and Raphael like gold. I think they were their idols. And even at his advanced age, Papa Roberto remembered every one of their names and all their family members. He was incredible.

  I asked him for a little advice as I embarked on my career as a business mogul.

  He chuckled and said, “Be yourself, Glori. Just be yourself.”

  Cisco did a display for Paulo’s charitable foundation that generated a lot of interest—contributions and partnerships. They even included Glori Cosmetics on their list of projects and partners. That was cool.

  I literally gasped when I saw the booth for Glori Cosmetics. Diana Black outdid herself. It was located right at the intersection of some major aisles. Big traffic area and a four booth space. The staff looked sharp in pastel outfits with the Glori logo on the front of the shirt and on the sleeve. Really cool.

  Even Aubrey volunteered to man the booth for hours at a time. Everyone at the show crowded around her, asking personal questions about her life with Jimmy, demanding autographs and photos. Even men that wouldn’t know a skincare product if they fell over it. But she’d give them a sample of something and tell them to make sure to give it to their wives or girlfriends. She was always great with her fans, and they sure adored her.

  Meanwhile, Diana had me do a press conference, and that went well. Reporters talked like I was still involved with Alain, and their questions pricked at my gut like thousands of little pins. But I was an actress, damn it. I glossed over their questions, without letting on anything was wrong. And I always brought my answer back to Glori Cosmetics—a revolutionary, luxurious, natural, personal experience. Glamour for a better world.

  Somehow Diana convinced Maria and Debbie to put in an appearance at the press conference. They said very little, but did join me afterwards as we met with every beauty and fashion editor on earth. Maria was her usual matter-of-fact, but personable self. She talked about the various formulations and ingredients. It was clear the editors were impressed. Maria knew her stuff. Of course, most of them had to get in questions about what it was like to have a secret agent for a son.

  Debbie coped with the pressure pretty well. She charmed them with pictures of her triplets. That was one topic Debbie never tired of, and she was willing to talk babies with most anyone who’d listen. When it came to questions about her husband, she would tell them how much she loved and supported him, and then discuss her artwork. Sounded like Debbie got some coaching from David.

  By the time we got back to the hotel to get ready for dinner, I was exhausted. I hadn’t seen a sign of Alain or David all day. I had planned to play detective and follow George to see who he hired, or get some inkling on how he’d do the deed, but I didn’t have a spare minute. I was at a total loss on that one. Every minute of my day had been choreographed by Diana Black.

  I took a quick shower with my rosemary mint stimulating bath soap. I did my hair up, with wisps around my face, and made sure my makeup was perfect. Then I dressed in a shimmery lavender evening gown with matching “kick-ass” shoes that I would feature in my new collection. Italian made, they were soft as a glove with a really neat diamond-shaped heel. Even though I was tired, they made me feel like a million bucks.

  I drove with Raphael, Cindy, Debbie and Aubrey to the opening dinner. We passed many of the sights of Vienna and drove up to the historic imperial palace, The Hofburg. As I got out of the car, I had a strange feeling. All around me there were people chatting in every language—none of which I understood, but it was almost overwhelming. I inhaled the scent of flowers everywhere, mixed with the party-goers’ perfumes and colognes, pungent in the warmth of the evening.

  The architecture, the flowers, in the last fading light of a long August day took my breath away. But my mind bounced back to its usual obsessing. Would I see Alain tonight?

  ***

  It was a gala affair in one of Vienna’s most beautiful old palaces. All the women were dripping in jewels, the men in their tuxes, and everywhere dignitaries were sucking up to each other.

  Fortunately, I was seated with Cindy, Raphael and Debbie. The other people at the table were very nice, I’m sure, but I couldn’t understand a word they said. Raphael chatted away with them in whatever language. Then he said they wanted my autograph, and the two women pulled out their Glori Cosmetics—my personal Jasmine perfume—samples of a blend created for me by Maria. I always took note of what people were buying. That’s just good business.

  Anyway, it was really cool. I signed my name under my signature logo on the packaging. The women seemed pleased.

  I scanned the room looking for Alain, but he came into sight only a couple of times. He was in security mode, so he probably never even noticed me. He sure looked good, though, even with that stern, macho look.

  I noticed Aubrey at the next table, blowing kisses across the room to Jimmy. He looked pretty preoccupied. He had to have been if he didn’t respond to Aubrey in a barely there evening gown.

  David and Eduardo were nowhere to be seen. I turned to Debbie, who was nervously playing with her bread. “Do you know where David is?”

  She cleared her throat. “General Pearson said he would be accompanying the President. I guess he and Eduardo will stay with him the whole time he’s in Vienna. The President already has plenty of Secret Service agents. I don’t know why they need even more.”

  “Hmm.” I emptied my water glass. Maybe nothing would happen to David here, with all those Secret Service guys around. But I was still nervous. I could see George Aldridge at the next table, yakking away with some poor unfortunate businessman. George sure could hide his dastardly thoughts.

  The waiter arrived to re-fill my water glass. I happened to look down as he walked off. Then it struck me. Those shoes were awful nice for a waiter. Having been in the industry and starting my own line of shoes, I knew quality. And those were quality shoes. Then I surveyed some of the other attendants. Their shoes were polished and spit shined. But they weren’t expensive designer shoes.

  I guzzled my water. He looked pretty irritated, but he came back with the pitcher. I dropped my napkin. “Ooops.”

  I brushed against him as I took a good look at the shoes. Oh shit! He had a gun. I felt something hard under his jacket. Believe me, living with my own secret agent, I knew when a guy had a gun. And those were fabulous shoes. This guy was definitely weird.

  “Sorry.” I smiled up at him, and brushed his hand with mine. That little flirty gesture worked. He nodded at me with a slight smile. Then he left. I kept my eyes on him, though, and as I watched, I could see him looking toward the entrance frequently.

  I leaned over to Raphael. “So when is the President getting here?”

  He took a quic
k look at his watch. “Should be any minute now. Eduardo said his plane was supposed to arrive an hour and a half ago.”

  I kept my eyes peeled on our waiter, and he seemed to be fumbling around with a strategically placed tray. He could see the President coming.

  I announced to Debbie, “Gotta pee.” And I was up and moving toward the waiter. Not that I had a clue as to what I’d do when I got to him.

  Then I caught a glimpse of Eduardo, then David, and the waiter started to reach under his jacket. I threw myself at him. Yeah, that was effective. It was like hurling myself at a brick wall.

  All of a sudden, I was in his grasp, and he was reaching for the gun with his other hand. I was a perfect shield.

  Women at the nearby table started to scream.

  I couldn’t let him win. I managed to grab my shoe. As I heard shots ringing out, I plunged the heel into the guy’s neck. He let me go. I started beating him with the heel, until we both dropped to the floor, and I realized there was a little hole in the middle of his forehead. Gross.

  Then there was a mob around me. Everyone was yelling. Alain grabbed me.

  “Oh shit! Oh shit!” I was kind of hysterical.

  He put his gun away, and propped me against the wall, his hands in my armpits. “Glori, are you okay?”

  Oh. That sexy French accent to die for. I dropped the shoe.

  I gawked up at him. “I really missed you.”

  He smirked. “I missed you, too.”

  There were about four million people going crazy around us. He tried to lead me out of the room, but I had a serious limp. So he picked me up and carried me. Old one-shoe Glori.

  As we got through the doorway, there was Debbie wailing hysterically, on her knees beside David.

  “No! Alain, what—” I almost lost it.

  Alain put me down, and Eduardo stepped in front of me. “He’s fine. He’s fine. It passed through the left arm. He’s gonna be fine.”

  ***

  The worst of it at the hospital was David worried about Debbie having a miscarriage or a heart attack or something. She couldn’t calm down, and he never even lost consciousness. He wouldn’t let the doctors touch him until he convinced her to stop crying. Then she insisted on going into the room with him while they tended to the gunshot wound.

  The bullet went clear through his left arm, without hitting anything major. That was a huge relief. A few inches difference and it could’ve been curtains for our man Cupid.

  Alain insisted I be seen by a doctor. So I decided to placate him, as Debbie would say. Turned out, I was bruised and black and blue over my whole torso, and I didn’t even realize it.

  When I joined the group in the waiting room, I was greeted like a hero. Maria said I saved David’s life. Alain added that I also saved the President’s life. Not too shabby for a girl with a shoe.

  So there we sat, practically the whole extended family, jammed into the hospital waiting room. Debbie’s mother, Marion, wrung her hands, and George paced in little circles, like they were real concerned. It turned my stomach.

  Alain and I didn’t say much of anything to each other. I wasn’t sure if it was just the heat of the moment that made him react the way he did. I wasn’t holding out any hope that he still wanted to marry me.

  General Pearson appeared and clasped my hands in his usual manner. “Glori, I should offer you a job.”

  Everyone broke out laughing.

  “Thanks, General, but I’d rather you just give me an endorsement for my shoes.” They thought that was even funnier. I was serious. A businesswoman needs to gather endorsements and testimonials wherever and whenever she can.

  Nita lifted the hem of her silver gown. “Don’t worry, Glori. We’ll all be wearing our ‘kick ass’ shoes from now on.” She winked at me. I did love that pair she had on.

  “And we’ll be sure to be photographed in them.”

  “Thanks, Nita.” I smiled.

  “One question, Glori.” Pearson pulled a chair to face me. “How did you know that waiter was an assassin?”

  “Oh that. Yeah, again it was the shoes. Way too expensive shoes for a waiter.” I realized that alone would not incriminate the guy. And no one was supposed to know about George hiring a hit man to get David. Pearson had a quizzical look all over his face.

  “Plus, when I dropped my napkin so I could get a better look at the shoes, I felt his gun under his jacket. I put two and two together. That’s all.”

  “Hmm. That’s pretty amazing. You might have thought he was one of ours,” Pearson said.

  “Yeah.” I nodded, then shook my head. “No, never thought that General.” That would’ve been too obvious.

  Pearson grinned. “Frankly, we knew the guy David shot was there to kill the President. But the guy that shot David…” Pearson rubbed his face. “He was disguised so well, we didn’t know who he was until we examined the body.”

  I gulped. “The guy… the guy…there were two guys?”

  “That’s right. The man you stopped was another assassin we honestly didn’t know about.”

  “I—well—who was shooting who? Who shot my shoe guy?” I stuttered.

  “Alain shot him.”

  I looked up at Alain. “Oh. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smirked his sexy French smirk.

  “Wait a minute.” The light bulb went on. “You shot the guy while I was shielding him? You could’ve shot me. Oh my dear God. You could’ve shot me.”

  Where was I getting this “Oh my dear God” thing? Maybe Cat was wearing off on me.

  “You could’ve shot me!”

  “But I did not.” He was so smug.

  “Well, it’s a good thing you know how to shoot.” I kind of fainted out of my chair.

  ***

  Alain drove me back to the hotel that night, pretty much in silence. I wanted to talk to him about us. I wanted to talk to him about David, and Cat’s prediction, and George hiring the hit man. But my head was splitting, and I knew I’d say something stupid. Or at least something I’d regret.

  So I sat there with my head propped back against the headrest, while we flew through the streets of Vienna.

  When we arrived at the hotel, he escorted me to the private elevator, and up to the suite. I barely had the energy to fantasize the great sex we could’ve had in that elevator.

  He walked me through the opulent parlor to the door to my room. “Good night, Glori. Sleep well.”

  I hung on the doorknob. I’d have to get used to living with this hole in my heart. “You too.”

  He turned on his heel to leave, and I couldn’t stop myself. “Alain.”

  He faced me.

  “I was drunk. I’m so sorry.”

  He stared at me, speechless. Inscrutable, as Cindy would say.

  This wasn’t the time to go into it. “Good night.” I shut the door.

  ***

  Alain joined his colleagues at the morgue, and stood over the body of William Shaw, master of disguise, skilled assassin. A professionally done prosthesis lay beside the body.

  “That’s quite a nose.” The medical examiner seemed impressed. He pointed to the nose, cheeks, jowls and chin in a stainless steel container.

  He examined the puncture wounds made by the heel of Glori’s shoe. “Ouch,” he said with a chortle.

  She’s done worse to me. Alain rubbed his eyes. Nothing would get her out of his mind, out of his heart.

  Glori was an amazing woman. How could she know William Shaw was there to kill the President of the United States?

  ***

  The last thing I remember that night was assuring Diana Black that I’d be at the sales breakfast at 7:00 A.M. that morning. Yeah, three hours of sleep for the spokeswoman for this miraculous line of cosmetics. I’d be great for sales.

  Actually, I was. Silly me, I didn’t even have the presence of mind to realize my so-called heroism the evening before would result in even more media attention.

  Everyone was clamoring for me, and fo
r Glori Cosmetics. The booth was mobbed all day, and Diana had to hustle to find enough product to keep on display, and for samples. Brochures and cards were gone. The staff couldn’t keep up with orders. The booth looked like a tornado hit.

  Then Diana announced Maria would be formulating a new “Presidential” blend of essential oils for soothing “high-powered” stress. Of course, the media and all the customers went crazier. And, of course, Diana had forgotten to mention that to Maria, before making that announcement.

  Who cares? Glori Cosmetics was so hot we could’ve sold dirt. Come to think of it, we did have Maria’s mud soap in the line. The mud came from the bogs in Austria. Yeah, that soap always had a special place in my heart.

  There was kind of a funny incident when Cindy first met Raphael. Camellia presented him with a bar of this mud soap, and he said, “Auntie, we wash off the mud. I’ll take the oatmeal soap.” I still think of that story when I use that soap. Men just never understand. But they’re cute. Sometimes.

  Anyway, that mud soap was one of our best-sellers that day. Spa owners love mud, I guess.

  ***

  By the time I got back to the hotel that night, I was so tired I couldn’t see straight. There were countless messages from Becky and the shoe company to “please call.” They already had orders for Glori’s kick-ass shoes. And they were just barely invented, never mind produced.

  Plus, the people I worked with on the swimwear line were ramping up even quicker than I hoped. They had distributors banging down their doors. Not only that, they had other lifestyle product manufacturers lined up. Debbie’s art would be on everything from sheets to glassware. Lots of great messages were waiting for me, except the one message I craved. There was not a word from Alain.

  I figured the world could wait another day for kick-ass shoes. But I did want to check on Debbie, and see how David was doing.