Glen & Tyler's Paris Double-cross (Glen & Tyler Adventures Book 3)

by JB Sanders

  "I like to think so." Glen quirked a half-smile. "So, was she really that hot?"

  "Like one and a quarter Antoine's."

  "No! Seriously?"

  "Have you ever known me to not be serious when it comes to someone's attractiveness?"

  "Wow, ok." Glen got a thoughtful look. "Was I seeing things, or did she have red hair?"

  "Well, yeah. You know what that does to me."

  "I know, it's your kryptonite." Glen looked down at their feet for a moment, unconsciously showing off his own ginger hair. When he looked up, his face was troubled. "It's the timing of it that bothers me."

  "What?"

  Glen regarded Tyler with an indulgent look on his face. Tyler wanted to poke him in the ribs. "I know between me and the seductress, you've got your brain on other things, or more accurately, your blood is off somewhere else--"

  "Hey!"

  "But how likely do you think it is that someone tried to get close to you, to seduce you, at this party, in the middle of Lance's trouble and whatever your side thing is?"

  Tyler nearly stopped dancing entirely.

  "Holy flipping shit, Batman." Tyler breathed out, looking up at Glen.

  Glen grinned. "Size differences aside, you are so clearly Batman it's not funny."

  Tyler's mind was going in sixteen different directions, analyzing strategies, covering mental bases and generally filing this new information. Somebody was trying to seduce him, to divide the two of them and maybe gain some sexually-based advantage over him.

  None-the-less, the flirty parts of his brain were always ready to go.

  "Oh, please. The last time I suggested dressing up in tights, you told me to go fly a kite." Tyler rolled his eyes.

  "That's because you wanted to do Elizabethan-drama sex, because of that stupid Tudors show. I love you to the ends of the Earth, but I'm not wearing a dinner-plate collar for anyone." Glen half-lowered his eyelids, and gave Tyler a look that was a thousand times stronger than what That Woman had been able to muster. "Superhero sex is entirely different."

  That time, Tyler really did stop dancing for a second.

  Chapter Twelve

  1000 Miles Per Hour

  Tuesday night, later

  They got back into the limo, and coasted away into the Paris night. Glen had his arm around Tyler, who nestled against him. The street lights turned the city into a twilight surrealist's painting -- bright starry streets with a midnight blue backdrop.

  "Well, that was ... more than I expected it to be." Tyler fidgeted a little, twisting to get more comfortable. Then he turned his face and Glen bent a little to kiss him.

  They reveled in each other for a while.

  Until Tim interrupted. "Hey Tyler, I think you've got a spot of mustard on your tuxedo jacket."

  Glen and Tyler broke their kiss and stared at him. Tim held his smartphone, which today sported some kind of antenna attachment. On the face of his phone was a large red insect symbol.

  James pulled out a wand-like device, which he waved over Glen and then Tyler. Over Tyler's coat pocket, it blinked rapidly but silently.

  James leaned over from his seat, gently fished in Tyler's jacket pocket and pulled out a tiny piece of electronics. It looked almost like a button. James raised an inquiring eyebrow.

  Tim smiled, pulled out a packet of mustard from his jacket, squeezed a dollop of the yellow stuff and dabbed in on Tyler's jacket.

  Tyler got a little red and made an aggrieved face at him. "Shit. I do. I wonder where I got that?"

  Tyler put out his hand, a look on his face reminiscent of a schoolteacher collecting gum from a teenager, with pursed lips and an air of amused irritation. James passed him the bug. Tyler looked at it for a moment, and then pointed at Tim, and the sliding window open to the front of the limousine. Tim opened it wider.

  "Ok, off to the cleaners with this guy." Tyler pulled off the tux jacket, with Glen's help, the bug still clasped in his hand.

  Tim took the jacket and held open the pocket for Tyler, who placed the bug back in the pocket with great ceremony. Tim then passed the garment through the sound-proofed window to the man riding shotgun.

  "Hey, Frank, can you see this gets to the cleaners after we're back and secure at base? The hotel's service should be good enough."

  "Sure, boss."

  Tim closed up the divider. He made the all-clear gesture.

  "That woman." Tyler said, with venom.

  "Oh?" Glen gave Tyler a look. "How did she plant a bug in your pocket?"

  Tyler looked vaguely embarrassed and turned a little pink. "I told you, she tried to seduce me. You were obviously right about what she was doing, too."

  "Apparently her seduction was very ... hands on?"

  Tyler smiled. "Shit, yeah. She had her hands all over me." He pointed to where the pocket had been. "If it had gone any further, she probably would have gotten that into my pants."

  Tim got a thoughtful look on his face. "You know, we could use this as an opportunity. Spread a little false information."

  Tyler grinned. "Oh yes, that's good. When we get back, let Frank know that he should pretend to be lazy and incompetent, and leave the jacket in the entrance hall. Let's just be sure to have the right conversations there."

  James and Tim nodded.

  Tim looked at Tyler with some amusement. "By the way, they have a whole chapter in spy school about being seduced, not being seduced and counter-seducing."

  "Oh!" Tyler smacked himself in the forehead. "I can't believe I didn't think of that! I could have seduced her."

  Glen cleared his throat, looking at Tyler with what Glen hoped was a more mild form of annoyance than he felt. "Sitting right here."

  Tyler put up his hands defensively. "I didn't, I mean I wouldn't. I --" Tyler ran his hand down his face. "I am a big idiot."

  Glen grabbed Tyler's lapels and pulled him over. "You're not so bad, most days."

  Before Tyler could respond, or continue smiling like a big idiot, Glen kissed him.

  A state they maintained all the way back to the hotel.

  ***

  "We'll want some alone time tonight," Tyler mentioned in the elevator on the way up to the suite.

  Tim nodded. "Ok, but we'll have to at least go over phase three and four before--"

  "No, I mean, once Glen and I get to the suite, we're done for the night." Tyler made a cutting gesture. He didn't sound particularly bendy on that point.

  "Seriously, there's so much--"

  Tyler silenced Tim with a Look. Glen was half-expecting Tim to catch fire from the angry heat Tyler gave it.

  They spent the rest of the ride in uncomfortable silence. Once the elevator doors opened, they proceeded down the hall and out into the suite's great room. The night view of Paris worked its magic on Glen almost immediately and he felt awestruck by the view all over again.

  Tyler turned to Tim. "Put on some music and then everyone out." Tyler even pointed to make sure everyone knew where the door was.

  James was uncharacteristically hesitant. "This is a fairly dicey situation, sir. We should really have people in the ... room ..." He tailed off under Tyler's continuous glare.

  Tyler sighed. "Right. It's like this."

  Tyler stood on one foot, pulled off his shoe, pulled off his sock and then put the shoe back on. He stomped over to the double doors, which were still open, and tied the sock to the outside handle. Tyler then pointed at the sock, made eye contact with each person in the room besides Glen and then pointed at the sock again.

  The bodyguards cleared out fast, piling up right outside the door. Obviously, although they wouldn't be right in the room, they'd be really close by.

  Tim was at the stereo hurriedly pressing buttons on an iPod. A slow-starting tango filled the air, and as it started, Tyler gently but firmly escorted Tim out of the room by his elbow.

  Then Tyler closed the doors and turned around.

  He put out his hand, posed like a flamenco dancer, and Glen thought Tyler's eyes were
on fire. But with a good kind of heat this time.

  They danced.

  Chapter Thirteen

  While You Were Asleep

  Tuesday night, very late; also early Wednesday morning

  "Glen!" Someone whispered in his ear.

  Glen groggily looked up into James' face. Everything was dark, but James' face seemed to be lit by a really dim red light. James had his hand over a flashlight, just letting out enough light to show his face. It made him look like a demon, which is how Glen felt about people waking him up in the middle of the night.

  "What?" He said, also in a whisper, since he didn't want to wake up Tyler. Glen could feel that he was still asleep next to him. Tyler's back was pressed firmly against his own.

  "There's someone climbing up the side of the hotel, and we think it likely he's coming here."

  Tyler stage whispered, apparently not so asleep. "Well for God's sake, invite him in for tea so we can get back to sleep."

  James upped his speaking voice slightly. "We don't know if this person is armed or not, sir."

  Tyler rolled out of the bed, noiselessly since the bed did not, in fact, squeak. He circled around to Glen's side of the bed, where James was standing. "Fine, here's what we're going to do..."

  ***

  Glen watched as the figure eased open the window and creeped in. The person was utterly noiseless. He then closed the window, and walked across to the bed. He didn't look around, just crept directly to his target. By the time he reached the bed, Glen was pretty certain that not only was he a man, but a man Glen knew. The night-vision goggles Glen was wearing didn't show colors, but he would recognize that figure just about anywhere. And he was wearing a very tight-fitting all-black outfit. Very tight-fitting.

  The man leaned over one of the silent lumps in the bed, and whispered. "Glen!"

  When there was no response from the pillows under the blanket, the man whispered again. "Glen!"

  Tyler squeezed Glen's hand, and Glen removed his night-vision gadget.

  Tyler clicked on the lights, and said: "Can I help you, Antoine?"

  Antoine put a hand to his head. He wasn't wearing night-vision gear, but the sudden burst of light had stunned him.

  "Baise!" Antoine swore. He shook his head a couple of times. Glen marveled. The man even looked sexy when stupefied.

  When his vision cleared, it was obvious he saw all the bodyguards with guns. Antoine put his hands up, and looked frightened.

  Tyler sat in one of the wing-backed reading chairs that made the master bedroom so sumptuous. It was hand-tooled leather, and more comfortable than a chair had any right to be. Tyler had put on a satin bathrobe, which had also come with the room. He looked perfectly at ease. Glen stood next to him, leaning slightly against the chair. He'd also thrown on one of the robes, although his wasn't belted, in case something physical went down.

  "So, since you didn't come in with a gun, or some exotic poison in a glass vial, I assume you want to actually talk to Glen. That's good, even if your entrance did set off some alarms. Why don't you take a seat?" Tyler gestured at a nearby chair.

  Antoine swallowed, looking around. Then he walked slowly over to the chair and sat. His hands remained raised. "Who are you people? Are you le mafia?"

  Tyler chuckled. "No, though I guess I do resemble some kind of crime boss. What did you do with the paintings?"

  "Quoi?" Antoine looked like someone had slapped him.

  "The paintings? The ones you stole from La Beaux Tableaux Galerie?" Tyler smiled at Antoine, in that patient way a cat has while it watches a mouse squirm.

  Glen looked down at Tyler, also confused.

  "But, I, I mean..." Antoine said.

  "Oh, go ahead and put your hands down. I think we can safely say that you don't have any weapons."

  Antoine put down his hands, and took in a shaky breath.

  "How do you know? Are you with them?" Antoine looked lost and afraid.

  "The only 'them' I'm part of is what I have with Glen here." Tyler took Glen's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "As to how I knew you took the paintings? I've been to Lance's silly little apartment, which is conveniently located on the same alleyway as the Galerie. That window in his place leads right out onto the roof, and it's just a simple leap to the roof of the gallery. And you're the same height and build as Lance, which means that even when you appear on the gallery's security cameras, even obliquely, Lance could be blamed."

  "No! No, I would not do that to Lance." Antoine was angry, though Glen got the impression it was mostly at himself. "The bad guys had cameras on him and it shows he did not do this. We must get the recordings from them to get Lance out."

  Tyler sighed. "Yes, we know you found the cameras. Those were my cameras, part of Lance's security. Totally inadmissible as evidence."

  "Oh." Antoine said in a small voice. He slumped in his chair. He put his hands over his face. In a small voice, his accent worsening, he said: "Please, please do not tell Lance this. I thought, when I first met him, that I could -- use him, but by the time I wanted to stop, it was too late. Are you going to call la police now?"

  "No." Tyler said.

  Antoine looked surprised. "Why not?"

  "Because I want to know who hired you -- and where the paintings are now." Tyler said.

  "It was a bunch of ... how you call them, skinheads." Antoine motioned at his own luxurious hair. "They are obnoxious and racists and bad Frenchmen, but they paid very well." Antoine shrugged. "But they also talk loudly in German, and when I met them to work out le swap, money for paintings, they talked about how they were going to kill me and dump me in the canal." Antoine made a sweeping gesture with one hand that included, somehow, a shrug. "So I went out the toilet window." Antoine pointed at Glen. "It was right when you called."

  Glen was beginning to appreciate why Lance had fallen for this guy. Besides his devastating good looks, he was an animated talker and very funny.

  "So you speak German, Antoine?" Tyler said.

  "Natürlich. My mother is from Alsace, and raised me speaking French and German." Antoine smiled. "Lance says I am smarter than I look."

  "So you didn't actually turn over the paintings to the bad guys?" Tyler said.

  "No." Antoine shrugged again. "They didn't pay me. How do you know about the paintings?"

  "Well, for one thing, I own one of them. And I need to find it promptly." Tyler beckoned James over. "I assume you came to get Glen's help because the skinheads are trying to kill you?"

  "They want to torture me first, but oui, they are hot for my blood." Antoine flashed a brief grin. "Not in the good way."

  Tyler nodded. "Well, we can protect you, but we really do have to get that painting back. Could you take a few of my security people to where you have it?" Tyler looked at James. "I assume he wasn't seen by anyone else coming in our window?"

  James shook his head. "Doesn't look like it. They have a man on the ground, but Antoine was careful to start from a building in the back and ascend on the side of the building."

  "Good. Take him in one of the rentals out the back and see if you can get the painting up to the suite for an inspection." Tyler shrugged. "Not that everyone doesn't want us to get the painting anyway. But we should keep as many cards face down as we can."

  ***

  After everyone left, they got back in bed. Glen was too keyed up to even try to get back to sleep, though.

  "Holy crap --- even in bed, just woken up, you look like a million dollars," Glen said. "Now you look like two or three million."

  Tyler smiled, cat-with-a-canary style. "It's the silk pajamas."

  Glen poked him in the ribs, causing Tyler to jump. "And that gel you use in your hair, which makes it look good even when you should have bed-head."

  "Maybe." Tyler stuck his tongue out at Glen. "I have to use something -- I'm not like you and that hair that looks great even when ravaged."

  "Speaking of which, I'm not getting back to sleep any time soon. You?" Glen said.
r />   "Fuck no!" Tyler grinned. "And I mean that really specifically."

  Part 3: The Footsteps of History

  Chapter Fourteen

  Oh, Lately It's So Quiet

  Wednesday early morning

  Glen had rousted Tyler out for an early breakfast, and insisted that they try this one particular café. He'd heard it was spectacular both for the quality of their coffee and their éclairs.

  The place was everything you could ask for in a modern French café. It had floor-to-ceiling windows along two sides, the better to watch people passing in the street. The furniture was metal, but made to seem lighter by being Art Nouveux wrought iron, painted white. The table-tops were frosted glass. The place was decorated with paintings of Paris street scenes and the entire place smelled of fresh baked bread.

  Luckily, both the coffee and the pastries were amazing, because one more moment of Tyler's before-food grousing and Glen would have given him a seltzer bath to the face.

  "Thee ah awfum!" Tyler said.

  "So you like the éclairs?" Glen said.

  Tyler looked a little sheepish and nodded. Then he took another bite. And made an "mmmm" sound.

  They had a largish table in the back near the display counter. What with Glen, Tyler, James, Kevin, George and Jacques, they took up a lot of space.

  After the éclairs had been inhaled, they quietly sipped their coffee and watched the world go by.

  "Want to play a game?" Tyler said.

  "Does it mean I have to go anywhere? Because I'm feeling pretty sedate after that breakfast." Glen said.

  "No moving, except turning your head. Since this is a corner café, we have a panoramic view of the streets. Let's see if you can spot and identify everyone following us." Tyler said.

  Glen smiled. "Well, there's the guy leaning in the doorway across the street who I think is on his third cigarette."