by Michele Hauf
He reached to grab the necklace, but she snatched it away.
“I remembered Lincoln had a stash safe behind an ugly Warhol painting in his bedroom. Thought I’d give it a look.”
“You could have mentioned that before we entered the premises. It would have been first on our list.”
She shrugged. “Just remembered it. While I was peeing.”
She winked, then flicked him the necklace. He grabbed its end and gave it a cursory once-over. The moiré ribbon had alternating smooth and rough textures under his gloved fingertips, and the silver settings clung to the fabric with prongs that could be easily dislodged with a bit of jiggling.
“This is it,” he said. “Remind me never to do a job with you again.”
“What’s that?” She turned her ear toward him. “Why, thank you, Josephine, for finding the valuable jewels that might cause an entire Parisian neighborhood to turn into zombies.”
“I don't think I said anything about zombies.”
She bowed grandly. “You are very welcome for the necklace, Monsieur Renard. Happy to have been the one who—”
“Yes, yes.” He grabbed her upper arm. “We need to leave. Through the same window we entered.”
They slipped from the room and down the hall before the camera swept back on its silent watch. As Xavier slid around the corner, a shadow moved toward the end of the hallway before the garage door. He froze. Josephine ran right into his back.
She swore under her breath. “What is it?”
“Someone's down there. The guard from the tower? Or the Mercedes returned from the quickie?”
“We're going to need a distraction,” she said. “But he’ll recognize me.”
The last thing he needed was for this job to escalate to violence and endanger an innocent.
“I got it,” he said.
Against his better judgment, Xavier reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his Renault. “You slip out and pick me up at the curb two houses to the east. Can you handle that?”
“Drive your car? Uh….”
He turned and eyed her fiercely. Though it was dark, he heard her swallow and nod. Now she would let fear take over? Bad timing.
“I don’t trust you,” he said as she took the keys. “But I’d rather see you out of here first than myself. Never leave a man behind.”
“Is that some kind of self-righteous bullshit you tell yourself to make it all better?”
“Have I mentioned how women who swear turn me off?”
“Fuck no.”
He sighed. “Follow me. And don’t move until I’ve engaged the guard.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
She clutched his hips and leaned up to kiss him. Was it a peck for luck, or a stolen moment of romance?
“What are you up to?” he asked.
“Just trying to stay ahead of the game.”
She slipped the necklace out of his pocket, then glided down the hallway. As the guard approached, she pressed her back up against the wall.
Just like a woman. Leaving the rough stuff to the menfolk. Xavier sighed and stepped into full view of the guard. He lifted a hand and made a beckoning gesture.
The guard obliged.
* * * *
It had been easy to slip by Xavier and the guard as they'd exchanged punches. Josephine left the garage window open wide, assuming Xavier would be battered and bruised and would appreciate any helpful access she left for him.
She got the car running and rolled down the street toward the Blackwell mansion. As she hunted for the turn signal, the passenger door opened and Xavier jumped inside.
“Move it,” he ordered as he pulled on his seatbelt.
Josephine looked down at hers. She hadn’t even thought of putting it on. No time now. She shifted her focus to moving it and stomped on the middle pedal. The car slammed to an abrupt, head-jerking halt.
“What the hell? The guard has a nine millimeter. And I don't think he'll stay down for long.”
As if to punctuate Xavier’s words, a bullet zinged the front left headlight. Panicking, Josephine stamped on the right pedal. The car peeled away from the curb and down a dark street, right toward a parked car. She jerked the wheel to the right, just in time to avoid a collision.
“That was a close one!” Adrenaline coursed through her, along with a weird excitement. She palmed the wheel with both hands and glanced in the rearview mirror. The mansion receded quickly.
Another bullet struck and transformed the back window into a spider’s web of shattered glass, and lodged in the rearview mirror. Josephine whipped her attention between the shadow of a man standing down the street behind them and—
The garbage can on a street corner jumped out at the car and landed the right headlight with a loud crash.
“Shit. Oops, sorry!” She steered abruptly left and again stepped hard on the accelerator. With bullets behind her and menacing garbage cans attacking her, it was like being in a video game. And she could play a video game. “Eyes ahead and fingers on the buttons.”
“What? Turn left!”
The car’s tires squealed and the trunk fishtailed. Xavier grabbed the steering wheel and spun them out of the skid. When he released the wheel to her, she took off straight and fast.
He slapped the dashboard. “Do you know how to drive?”
“Was that a requirement?”
“What? I thought you said you almost bought a Mini?”
“I did! But then I didn’t because I don’t know how to drive. So, you know, not much need for a car.”
“Why didn’t you say something when I handed you the keys?”
“You signed on for the distracting part. That was the tough job. I figured ‘getaway driver’ was the least I could do.” She swerved sharply to avoid a stop sign. The front tire nicked the curb, and an oncoming car honked gruffly. “I’m getting the hang of it! And I think we lost him.”
“There's still another car in the garage. He’ll be on us in seconds. Pull over and let me drive!”
Josephine turned toward the curb—and collided with an oncoming car in a spectacular crash.
Chapter 12
Xavier scrambled out of the car, spat blood onto the grass, and rushed around the trunk and to the driver’s side. They’d hit a parked car; something to be thankful for. That meant no innocents had been injured.
He’d trusted a woman who didn’t even know how to drive to man the getaway car. He was slipping. Or was it that he’d allowed the infatuation over some pretty blue eyes and an irresistible mouth to curtail his better judgment?
Had to be the case.
He opened the door and pushed Josephine’s head back. She’d been knocked out upon impact. He quickly inspected her body, running his hands over her head and shoulder and down her chest and there at her hip—he felt the diamond necklace—then he gave a cursory glance all over for blood. None to be seen.
And no seat belt on, either. Why hadn't the airbags deployed? She had been lucky.
He scanned the neighborhood, but other than the hissing from the engine, everything was quiet. Residents obviously weren’t concerned someone had just crashed into a parked car…unless they were calling emergency He didn’t see any movement. But that didn’t mean someone inside a house wasn’t calling for an emergency vehicle right now. Or that their tail had somehow miraculously lost them. It was only a matter of minutes before the security guard located them.
He jostled her. “Josephine?”
She didn’t respond, but there was no time to waste. Grabbing her shoulder and wrapping his other arm across her back, he pulled her out. The movement startled her back to consciousness, kicking and flailing. When her leg connected with the door, it propelled them both to the ground. He landed on his back with her back on top of him, almost spooning.
“That’s not exactly how I planned that daring escape,” he said. “But it’ll work. You okay?”
She lay still
, and he could feel every bit of her body against his. It was an odd moment to have to caution his body from going full erection mode.
She touched her forehead and nodded. “Yeah. Just a bit discombobulated. Why am I lying on you? Is this some weird sex position?”
He chuckled. “I prefer to look into my lover’s eyes when making love. But no. I was trying to get you out of the car. We really should get up and go.”
“Right.” She rolled off him, landing on her hands and knees. She glanced down his chest and torso, stopping at his crotch. He didn’t think she could see his erection, but hell, she’d probably felt it.
She pointed at his mouth. “You're bleeding.”
He swiped a thumb over the blood on his lower lip. “Must have bit my tongue when we impacted.”
“Right. That way.” She nodded, then took off in a runner’s dash.
Xavier sat up, considered the car for a few seconds—it was a junker; he could requisition for a new one… a new junker—and took off after her.
Tires squealed at the end of the block. Josephine dodged into a shrub-lined yard. She sprinted across the lawn in light steps. Xavier watched her, relieved she wasn’t hurt from the crash.
Trekking through an adjacent yard, he kept an eye out for security cameras or guard dogs. Most dogs in this neighborhood were purse poodles, though. Probably asleep at the foot of their mistress’s beds in a fancy, gold-trimmed cradle.
They ran through three yards, a gated courtyard that opened into a covered alley, and out onto a retail area. As the shops had closed hours earlier, it was dark and deserted. Across the river, the spinning neon lights on the Ferris wheel tucked at the edge of the Tuileries blinked over the tops of the lime tree canopy.
“Stop.” Josephine slipped between a parked SUV and a storefront, where it was darker and more secluded than the narrow cobblestoned street. “We’re finished.”
Xavier was panting far more than she was from that short dash. Not cool. He put back his shoulders and nodded. “We are.”
“You got what you wanted.”
He patted his pants pocket. “That I did.”
“Ah shit, really?” She patted her hip. “When did you nab— Fine. It already served my purpose, now it’ll serve yours. You happy?”
“Immensely. You?”
“I would have been a hell of a lot happier had I never ran into you.”
She had to be lying. Why should it matter? They were finished, as she’d said. He had the prize. Time to move onward. Back to the ECU with his head held high. On to the next job.
So why was he finding it so difficult to simply turn and walk away from the woman who had bested him at his own game? It couldn't be because her eyes seemed to seek the same unspoken reassurance from him, could it?
“You can’t return to your apartment,” he noted.
“Don’t plan to. I’ll pick up Chloe, and we’re off to…uh, wherever we plan to go.” She toed the SUV’s back wheel.
It was good she was getting out of the city and away from Lincoln Blackwell.
“If you need anything…” he started.
She laughed and slapped a hand onto his shoulder. “Really? We don’t have to do this formal goodbye thing. In fact, this is how it’s going down.”
And then she kissed him, her body crashing against his so that his back slammed against the vehicle. Her thudding heartbeats played timpani against his. The woman knew what she wanted, and that was to make him lose track of what he had been doing, where he was headed, and even why.
Answering her wanting kiss with a greedy desire of his own, Xavier turned her around and pushed her up against the truck. Her leg slid up along his leg. He clutched her thigh, holding her there. He slid a palm up under her shirt and across her back, coaxing her to tilt forward and crush her breasts against him. Mmm, she was warm and supple, and her mouth was hot and seeking. He could get used to this. He could get used to this woman.
“Damn, your mouth is like a drug.” She pushed him away. “I gotta get away before I don't want to leave. Thanks for the tricks, X.”
She wandered down the street, a bounce to her step. As she arrived at the corner, she looked over her shoulder. Waving, she kissed her fingertips and blew that teasing morsel his way. As he considered grasping the invisible treat, she stepped out of view.
“Tricks,” Xavier muttered. He patted his pocket to ensure the necklace was still there. He’d forgotten about it when she’d kissed him. But yes, it was there. She’d given him the win this time.
So why did he suspect the next time their paths crossed, she’d fight to the finish?
“Never going to cross again,” he said. He turned in the opposite direction and walked off.
* * * *
The headquarters for the Elite Crimes Unit was situated in an undisclosed location. A private car had picked up Xavier at his apartment in the 1st arrondissement. The windows were blacked against the sun so he couldn't see out, but he never bothered to look. He could see through the sky-roof blinders, and they always passed under plenty of tree cover. And he did have a sense of direction even if he couldn't visualize it. If he were to guess, he'd place the headquarters somewhere near the southwestern edge of the Bois de Boulogne, a massive park that edged western Paris.
After the driver announced their arrival, Xavier stepped out into the dimly lit underground garage. He’d never seen the place from the street. He’d always been delivered directly into the garage. The entry ramp seemed to twist and wind for a good half-mile. He had no desire to walk out to try to pinpoint where he’d gone underground, either. Didn’t matter. It was better not knowing some things.
He thanked the driver and grabbed the attaché containing the necklace. He hadn’t handcuffed it to his wrist. Too blatant. The briefcase appeared a simple black leather businessman’s carry-on, yet the interior was titanium and he’d challenge anyone to attempt the nine-key digital code and biometric verification.
The elevator interior was lined with red LEDs near the floor. He took it down three levels and walked out into the air-conditioned animosity of a marshmallow white hallway. Heels clicking, he checked his cell phone. Five a.m. The ECU never rested.
But he would have the day off to rehash the wrong step he'd taken and how to avoid it happening again. Of course, there was a chance he’d be assigned a new mission. Or not. He seemed to average one a month; some took a few days, others required more intense research, and actually insinuating himself into a suspect's world could require weeks.
He enjoyed this work. To a degree. He was never free. That was evident in the tracker chip embedded at the base of his skull, close enough to the brain stem to keep him from digging for it. That chip had been a condition for his release from the Belgium prison.
He'd never been one for making bargains to save his ass. But after spending a year behind bars, a man adjusted his standards to include freedom. At any cost.
Turning abruptly right, he faced a door set seamlessly into the stainless steel wall. A biometric scanner read his heartbeats and a 3-D sensor confirmed his facial structure. He waited for the audio prompt, then spoke his name clearly.
Kierce could override the security checks and simply open the door, but that rarely happened.
Two seconds passed. The door slid open to reveal a small room completely walled in brick. The floors were limestone. It was a jarring contrast; the cold white hallway, and a small office that looked like a long-lost hideout in a decades-old bunker. What kept it from being quaint were the computer monitors on streamlined blue resin desks and the overhead screens that lined the far wall, featuring world maps where ECU operatives were stationed. A ticker tape of current events ran in red LEDs above it all.
Generally there were not many stationed at the desks, and being early, Xavier saw that only one chair was occupied. He nodded when Kierce Quinn looked up. Young, pimpled, and still not acquainted with the virtues of a comb, the operative tugged his headset off his dirty b
lond hair and jumped up to shake his hand.
“You got it?”
Xavier handed over the attaché. “It’s all yours.”
“It was a tough grab, eh?”
Xavier winced at the reference to his failure to walk away with the necklace that first night at the ball.
“Define tough?”
Kierce smirked. “You went radio silent more than usual. Did that have anything to do with the sexy young ingénue you were working with?”
Xavier raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe I’d better keep those comments to myself.”
“Wise man.”
“The boss wants to talk to you. He’s in the Paris office for the week.” Kierce nodded over his shoulder. “I’ll get this processed.” He sat and pulled something out of a drawer and attached it to the digital lock. A code breaker. He could have asked Xavier to open it, but the kid liked to use his gadgets.
The boss, eh?
Suppressing a nervous sigh, Xavier strolled toward the back of the room, where a narrow aisle led down a hallway to the armory and storage room where all nature of high-tech gadgets were kept. It was Kierce’s domain, but, when he had the chance, Xavier liked to browse and see what he recognized. Figure out what could be cracked, and what would give him a headache merely trying to figure out how to turn it on.
He wasn’t old. He was just…set in using the tried-and-true methods. Touch, sound, and intuition continued to work marvels above digital high-tech gadgetry any day. But that didn’t stop him from keeping up with changing security measures. It had been necessary after losing a year in prison. Technology moved swiftly. A good thief kept up with the times or would be stuck targeting only the old safes, which harbored nothing more than moldy estate papers and granny's fake pearls.
Putting off the gadgets room for later, Xavier stopped at an office door. Before he could knock, he heard someone call for him to enter. Of course, there were cameras all over. Dixon had known the moment the limo escort had arrived, and had probably watched him talking with Kierce.
Hunter Dixon was a grizzled man who carried his emotions in his jaw. It tensed and relaxed as the conversation went on. Graying brown hair slicked away from his face, and his beard made him look like General Custer. Xavier always thought the man might be just as comfortable herding mustangs on a Wyoming ranch as he would in a three-piece suit, guarding the pope as he cruised by in the Popemobile. Xavier knew little about the man's history, though he would place bets Dixon hadn’t been plucked out of a prison to head this motley crew.