The Agent's Proposition

by Stone, Lyn

  “But don’t get distracted by celebrities,” she added with a grin, repeating a suggestion he had made before last night’s search. “Can I squeal once if I see Johnny Depp?”

  He didn’t smile. “Only if you want my gun to his head.”

  She noted his sense of humor was on leave at the moment. “No squealing then.”

  “Good,” he said as the valet opened her door.

  She got out and headed for the entrance, not waiting for him to accompany her.

  He caught up just as she reached the door. “The cover charge,” he whispered right behind her ear.

  Tess hadn’t thought of that. The doorman looked them over and gave them the nod. She noted the denominations as Cameron whipped out several bills and handed them over. Two hundred and fifty euros? My God.

  “Stop frowning,” he warned, ushered her inside, then promptly disappeared.

  Tess pasted on a bored smile and snaked her way through the crowd to the far end of the club, checking out faces as she went. The music was loud enough to wake the dead. She heartily wished for earplugs, but they probably wouldn’t help. The reverberations went right through to the bone.

  Enormous fountains of light flowered nearly to the ceiling. The thunder of music, crowd noise and rowdy laughter vibrated through her body, while the mixed scents of perfume, liquor and body odor assaulted her nose.

  She scanned one male after another, pausing only whenever a slight, dark-haired one would fit the profile of Selim.

  Tess moved more slowly on her return through the club. Several men spoke to her as she passed, but she ignored them.

  Selim’s face in the photograph totally occupied her mind as she searched. “Where the devil are you?” she muttered under her breath.

  And suddenly as that, there he was, as if she’d conjured him up out of thin air. Big as life, he was standing almost directly in front of her. And he, too, was searching for someone.

  Tess quickly buzzed Cameron on the phone with her thumb and hurried to brush past Selim. “Excusez-moi, s’il vous plaît,” she said, meeting his gaze. Their eyes met and held. She remember to use the half smile and add the unspoken invitation.

  “Certainment,” he replied suggestively, moving closer. Then, suddenly recalling something, he gave a helpless shrug and reluctantly turned away from her.

  She kept him in sight as he made his way through the throng to the upper level, where the tables were.

  Tess had known why he left the moment he did it, she realized, amazed at herself. Seldom before had she been able to read anyone without their knowledge and cooperation. She didn’t count last night with Cameron. She had the distinct feeling he had let her.

  Yet she had picked up on Zahi Selim’s thoughts, as if he’d spoken them out loud. But it wasn’t words in his mind that she had gotten. It was only his intent she’d grasped, most likely because he thought in his mother tongue and not in English.

  He had definitely been interested in her, fully intending to speak to her, to start up something, then highly frustrated that he had something more crucial to do. Someone he must meet right then.

  “You rang?” Cameron said as he reached her side.

  “It’s…it’s him!” she said, without taking her eyes off their subject’s back. “I can’t believe we did it, Cam. We actually found him! It’s Selim.”

  “No kidding.”

  “He’s going up there to meet somebody.” Tess pointed.

  “You’re sure it’s him?” Cameron demanded.

  “Absolutely. We actually spoke. Then he rushed off. I had him interested, but then he had to go.”

  “A date maybe,” Cameron said, his mouth close to her ear. “Or maybe not. Let’s see who it is. Move on up there so you can get a closer look. Go slowly. In character, Tess.”

  She obeyed, hard to do since she was so eager to get where she was going. Her eyes never left the mark.

  Selim took a seat at a table with another man, a heavyset fellow with white hair who looked remarkably like the disc jockey she’d seen operating the turntable. But it wasn’t him. The music kept flowing, changing as the raucous voice of Jack-E bellowed something unintelligible over the microphone.

  Tess bypassed the table and turned when she had Selim’s back to her. The other man was tapping on the table, as if to make a point of something he was saying. Selim nodded, pushed away and stood up again. The other man sat back, as if satisfied. This one she couldn’t read. He cast her a passing glance, then looked away.

  Tess opened her phone, photographed the dancers below them and spanned left, quickly capturing the face of Selim’s friend. Now he was busy watching Selim head back to the front of the club.

  She raised her arm and waved in the direction of the entrance, as if recognizing someone she knew, hoping to alert Cameron. Then she hurried after Selim.

  He was a good twenty feet in front of her, and she saw Cameron well ahead of him. They wouldn’t lose him now! But she still had to meet him somehow and persuade him to join her on the yacht.

  Cameron was waiting just outside the exit. “Selim’s hailing a cab, and we have to wait for the car. Damn it, where is that valet?”

  “I’m on it,” Tess declared and rushed toward Selim.

  “Tess, wait!” she heard him say but ignored it. Their subject was about to disappear.

  “Taxi!” she called, raising her arm and waving.

  Selim turned, his hand on the door of the cab. “Mademoiselle?”

  She turned on the charm. “Ah. Well, then, this one is yours, isn’t it! Now I must wait for another.”

  “Nonsense. You will share with me. You are American, non?”

  “No, actually, I’m Canadian. Are you certain you don’t mind sharing?”

  “Of course not. It will be my pleasure. Where do you go?”

  “The marina. My yacht is docked there,” she told him. “The person I was supposed to meet at Les Caves never showed.”

  Selim smiled sweetly. “Then he must have died along the way. I cannot imagine another reason to desert so beautiful a woman.”

  “My, you are a bit of old-world charm, aren’t you?” She held out her hand, trying to delay their departure long enough for Cameron to get the car so he could follow. “I am Tessa. And you are…?”

  He raised her hand to his lips as he held her gaze. “Zahi. My friends call me Zee.”

  How faux cosmopolitan, she thought. “Zee it is, then.”

  The cabdriver cleared his throat noisily, and Selim laughed, displaying dimples and blindingly white teeth. He was cute; she had to give him that. His features were attractive, but his moves seemed both copied and practiced. Watched too many James Bond movies, she’d bet. The panache was a trifle overdone.

  She sensed insecurity and great determination to hide it. He had probably been a baby-faced, geeky kid who depended on his family wealth to insure whatever popularity he had enjoyed with girls. Now he wanted to make up for lost time.

  “Come, my dear. We must go,” he said, ushering her into the cab with a flourish of his hand.

  Tess glanced through the window to see Cameron frowning thunderously at her. He was still waiting for the attendant to bring the car. He held up his phone and gave her a pointed, teeth-gritting look.

  She nodded once to signal that she understood. She punched the number on her phone to ring him and left the line open so he could listen in on her conversation with Selim.

  “Who was that man?” Selim asked after he’d given directions to the driver in French. “Is he the one you were to meet?”

  “Oh, no. He’s simply a guard my father hired to look after me. I signaled him to take the night off and indicated I will call if I need him.”

  “He takes his job lightly then, but no matter. I will see that you are safe,” Selim declared. “Now, what is the name of this doting father who believes you need personal protection?”

  Tess took a deep breath and tried to look mysterious. “I’d rather not say.”

  “He
owns this yacht you go to?” Selim asked, pressing for information, taking her hand in his.

  She detected no suspicion, just sexual interest. And greed. “No,” she said with a studied blink. “I own the yacht. It was a present for my birthday. My father and his yacht are cruising the Greek islands.”

  Tess could almost see the dollar signs in his dark brown eyes. Or euro signs, anyway.

  She decided not to issue an invitation to accompany her to the boat just yet. He wouldn’t expect such trust after having just met.

  “So, Zee, do you live here in Saint-Tropez?” she asked. Maybe he’d tell her where exactly. Cameron would love an address so he could pick up the computer.

  “I do,” he admitted. “At least for the moment. A friend of mine is traveling, and I am house-sitting for him. My home is in London.”

  “A dreadfully dull place,” Tess said, glancing out the window at the passing scenery.

  She hoped to God Cameron was following, because she had not been able to keep track of street signs without seeming obvious about it.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t think she could take care of herself. She had been doing so for years and had enough training in physical defense to prevail in almost any situation. She had to admit, however, that she had never been in a position to put her skills to a real test against someone with a serious intent to harm her.

  Zahi Selim did not have that intent. He was focusing on charming her and getting her horizontal for other purposes entirely. It wasn’t difficult to divine that even without checking his mental meanderings.

  Somebody should tell him, for future reference, that he was trying too hard. He wouldn’t need that tip in prison, where he would be very shortly if all went as planned tonight.

  She gave up watching for Cameron’s car lights and directed her attention to where they were going.

  And promptly noticed they were now heading in the wrong direction.

  “This is not the way to the marina,” she said in what she hoped was a nonchalant but faintly reproving tone.

  “I know,” he said with a salacious smile.

  Tess hid her frown behind the bored expression.

  Did this little twerp think he could kidnap her or something? Definitely something. He was feeling pretty smug about it, too. She could sense that without even trying.

  “You might tell me where you intend to go instead,” she said, shifting impatiently in her seat. “You said I could trust you.”

  “Oh, but you can!” he protested. “Please don’t be angry with me. I merely thought we might stop off at my place for a drink first. What do you say?”

  “A drink? At your place?” she repeated, rolling her eyes. “Why didn’t I see this coming?”

  Tess felt her stomach flutter with apprehension. She really didn’t want to have to disable him and ruin the plan they had to get him willingly onto the yacht.

  She forced herself to remain calm, suddenly sensing that he had another reason for going to his house, one that had nothing to do with her. “It’s quite presumptuous of you, but if you insist. I suppose I’m in no great hurry.”

  Tess knew she could handle this little dude on her worst day. One wrong move on his part and he’d be screaming for mercy, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She needed to see where he lived, find out where his computer was, didn’t she? Here was the perfect opportunity, falling right in her lap.

  They were leaving the commercial section and winding through tree-covered hills. No car lights were behind them. “Zee, where is this house you’re taking me to? I like to know where I’m going.”

  “Not far. Relax, little Tessa. I promise you can trust me, and I will take you to the marina whenever you say. First, I have to do something important. Business, you see. Then we will enjoy a drink together.”

  “You don’t consider me important?” she demanded, trying to sound kittenish.

  “Well, of course you are! Have I told you how beautiful you look? Blue silk becomes you. And your hair…” He took a dangling curl between his fingers, leaned near and brought it to his lips.

  This close, he smelled of garlic. God’s gift, indeed. She moved away. Hard to get was not a bad way to play this, she decided.

  “Where in London do you live?” she asked to distract him.

  “Why do you ask? Do you know London well?”

  “Of course. How long have you lived there? Did you attend school in England?” she asked, then realized she sounded too much like an interrogator, instead of a woman merely showing interest in a man. Immediately, she smiled sweetly at him and added, “I only ask because your English is so perfect.”

  Selim beamed and his chest puffed out. “I studied at Oxford.”

  “I thought as much,” she replied, trying to hold the smile steady. She had almost blown it. “I suppose your business is based there. Otherwise you would live here, wouldn’t you?”

  “Tell me about yourself,” he countered instead of answering.

  Tess knew she had to manufacture a background and quick. “I was born in Toronto but have lived all over. My father owns…” She ducked her head as if suddenly shy. “Oh my, I’ve said too much. Father warned not to speak of the family or our circumstances unless I know someone very well.”

  He placed a hand on her arm and squeezed. “Wealth makes you vulnerable. I understand why that would bother him.” He sat back, holding her hand in his. “I have a flat in Twickenham, but I will be moving soon.”

  “Somewhere here on the Côte d’Azur, I suppose,” she said. “I can’t imagine a better place to live. The nightlife is so exciting.”

  “Especially tonight.” He smiled again and gestured in the direction the cab was going. “There, the villa just up ahead is where I stay.”

  When they arrived, he paid the driver and got out, holding the door for her and offering his hand.

  Tess took it and stared after the cab as it drove away. “You’ve let him go. How will I get to the marina?” she asked. He was clearly thinking she wouldn’t need any transportation once he persuaded her to stay the night. Fat chance of that.

  “We’re on the bay. I’ll take you around in my boat.”

  Ah, he had a boat. Maybe that was him they had seen on the beach.

  The so-called villa was small and not all that impressive considering the location. The red-tiled roof was low-slung, the facade rather plain, and the entry had been left unadorned. It looked uninhabited, like a house for rent.

  When he guided her inside and turned on the lights, she was even less impressed. The furnishings were modern and sparse. No plants or anything colorful. She’d seen more interesting motel rooms. Again, she thought of a furnished rental property.

  “Bachelor accommodations, they are all the same,” she commented with a dismissive flap of her hand.

  “As I said before, I’m house-sitting. The owner has no taste.”

  “There’s an understatement.” She didn’t have to work very hard at projecting a rich girl’s ennui. She followed him to the kitchen and watched idly as he poured them both a glass of wine.

  He drank his down like medicine. “If you will excuse me for a few moments, I have to take care of something on the computer. Please, make yourself at home. Have more wine. I’ll be right back.”

  She let him leave, then followed, moving languidly back into the living room and noting the only closed door leading off of it. She wandered closer, heard the tapping of a keyboard and then crossed the room again so she wouldn’t be overheard when she talked to Cameron.

  With the phone to her ear, she demanded in a whisper, “Where the heck are you?”

  “Right outside,” Cameron announced. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. We’re going to the marina on his boat. Be on the yacht when we get there, and I’ll get him on board somehow. I think he’s sending another message now, as we speak. About that guy at the club—”

  “Yeah, about him. Send that photo you took to Mercier first chance you get and request an ID.” Sh
e jumped when the door opened and Selim appeared. “No!” she exclaimed into the phone. “You’re to do as I said, Fabio! And do not bring anyone aboard with you, do you hear? And if I have a guest, I want you topside, at the wheel, with no interruption. Capisce?” She pretended to click the phone off and shook her head as if exasperated by the whole conversation.

  “Problem?” Selim asked.

  She smiled sweetly. “Not at all. You simply have to be firm with the help, or they will take advantage.” She finished her wine and handed him the empty glass as he approached. “Could we go now? I have a bottle of Dom Pérignon and some divine beluga waiting on the Jezebel. Like to share?”

  “Sounds lovely,” he said. “This way.” He led her back through the kitchen to the back door. “I’m sure my little runabout is not fancy enough for you, but it will get us there in no time.”

  “Wait!” Too much of a hurry, she thought. Cameron needed time to get there first. She ran a hand down Selim’s arm when he stopped in his tracks. “Forgive me. I’m being a real boor, Zee. Why don’t we have one more glass of wine here before we go? And I would love to see the rest of the villa.”

  He seemed confused by her sudden change in attitude, but he shrugged. “If you like.”

  “Here. I’ll even pour,” she offered, turning to the counter where he’d left the wine. She took time to examine the label. “Not a bad white really. Rather sweet but I like it.”

  He preened. “I chose it myself. I’m afraid I have a taste for sweets.” His fingers traveled up her arm to her shoulder, and he flipped her earring with the tip of one finger. “Sweets such as you, ma cherie.”

  No need to read his mind to know what his intent was at the moment. She laughed and proceeded to fill their glasses. “Well, then, a toast,” she said, handing him his drink and practicing her eyelash batting. “To new friends and gorgeous surroundings.”

  “Hear, hear!” He clinked his glass to hers and took a sip.