by AC Arthur
But right now, she had to deal with Ines.
“Wait, you are an American FBI agent? But you are here in Paris? Why?” Ines asked as they stepped out of the taxi.
She had been talking constantly after she insisted she was going with Zera when they left the warehouse. Zera had momentarily considered tying her up and gagging her too, but she hadn’t wanted to scar Ines in any way. Nor did she want to scare her any more than she knew she already had.
“Look, it is a long story, Ines. One I do not want you unnecessarily involved in,” Zera said.
She paid for the taxi and stepped out onto a dark street.
“Why don’t you take the taxi and go home. Or better, take a holiday with your grandmother. She’ll love that. She adores the beach.”
Ines shook her head. “Do not try to brush me off. I want to know what is happening. You never told me any of this and I have known you for months now. Are you in trouble?”
“No,” Zera replied instantly as she stepped onto the sidewalk and looked up at the white twinkling lights that spelled out The Grande.
She had no back up and only her gun and knife at her ankle. She was acting on information that only she knew, in an area of the 18th Arrondissement that she had done no research on. She’d simply acted because she felt like her time to do so was running out. All because she’d slept with Dane again. She shouldn’t have and she knew it, but she had and now she suspected her feelings were involved. None of that could be if she did not complete her task. She had to focus.
“I have to go in here and speak to someone. Why don’t you wait out here for me?” she asked, hoping Ines would agree with her.
“Absolutely not!” was Ines’s response.
Ines had changed into white leggings and a long white tank top. Her shoes were fuchsia sandals and her hair was now pulled back into a messy bun.
“I’m going with you in case something happens.”
Zera shook her head. “And what are you going to do if something does happen, Ines? This isn’t your fight. You should go home.”
“You said someone kidnapped your cousin. Well, I consider you my family. So that makes this my business.”
“This is not a game!” Zera yelled and instantly regretted it.
“I’m not letting you go in alone. If things get bad I’m calling the police. Now come on, let’s get this over with.”
Zera sighed heavily. Her options now were to walk away and take Ines home, or to go forward. Was she really ready to approach Luka? Hell yes! She had proof that Emmet had been the Belyakov bratva’s contact for the African region. So she’d gotten close to him and when the time had availed itself she’d taken Emmet’s agenda book which had everything she needed to know to move forward. There were dozens of groups named with dates beside them. The dates of when they were taken and from what region. That’s how she’d known which group Hiari had been in. Emmet was very detailed—she suspected so that he would have some assurance for himself—so he also had notes regarding where the groups would be taken and how much he had been paid for them. Everything was in that book. Everything except the last stop for The Pir group, the group that Hiari was in.
Now, she was here. She could get in Luka’s face and demand a meeting with his pakhan. From there she would use Emmet’s book to negotiate Hiari’s safe return. And once she had Hiari out safely, she would send her copy of the book to the local police and every other national agency that were supposed to be searching for leads to stop the kidnappings and human trafficking around the world.
“Are you coming?” Ines asked.
Zera looked up to see that she had moved closer to the door and already had her hand on the handle. Ines pulled the door open and walked inside without waiting for Zera’s answer. Cursing, Zera went in behind her.
The inside of The Grande was dark, the jazzy sounds of a trumpet and saxophone echoed from further inside, to the front entrance. They walked through a stone archway and Zera took note of the two burly white men standing on either side. The looks they gave Zera and Ines were cold and assessing, but Ines flashed her brilliant smile and glanced back at Zera. Sighing because there was no going back now, Zera reached into her pocket and pulled out a stack of euros. The amount was probably somewhere around one hundred US dollars. She held it between her fingers and arched a brow as she waited to see if one of the goons would take it.
The one on the left gave a dismissive shrug, while the guy on the right, with the jagged pink scar beneath his left eye looked Ines up and down appreciatively. When he turned his attention to Zera, the appreciation continued and he actually smiled as he took the money from her. Zera tried not to cringe as they walked further into the club, knowing that Scarface was most likely still staring at them.
The place was filled with people sitting at round tables made to accommodate two. Red cushioned chairs were positioned at each. Along a back wall were red plush benches with longer square tables in front of them. To the far left was a bar, with the wall full of bottles of liquor lined neatly and illuminated by a hazy red light. A stage stretched across the front of the room. It was curved to allow a good view from any angle. In a dark corner, near the only Exit door Zera could find, was a glossy black piano. A slim black man sat at the piano and played without ever looking up to the crowd. While the saxophone and trumpet players, both white, stood to one side of the piano and played along.
“Do you see him?” Ines asked.
Zera shook her head. The pictures Aasir was able to send her of Luka Kuznetsov had not been great. His features had been grainy at best, so picking him out in this dark club wasn’t going to be easy. But she knew how to get his attention.
“Let’s sit at the bar,” she said and walked in that direction.
When they’d ordered drinks and sat waiting for them, Zera decided that she did need to at least let someone know where she was. She pulled out her cell phone to send a message to Aasir. Since this was her real phone, she would send the message to an email box that was registered to a library in Kenya. Aasir had created the mailbox and would be the only one checking the messages. Just as she sent the message letting him know that she’d seen Pierre and was now at the club looking for Luka, a text message came through.
we need to talk
It was from Dane.
It was a little after seven in the evening and Zera hadn’t been back to the hotel all day. She’d slipped out this morning before he could wake because she’d needed to finally take care of her business. But she hadn’t left him a note and so he was probably worried about her. But “we need to talk” did not sound like he was worried. It sounded like he was fed up. With a heavy sigh, Zera put the phone back into her pocket. She picked up the glass that the bartender had just set in front of her and she drank the whiskey. It burned her throat so much her eyes watered, but she shook it off. Just in time to see Scarface from the front door approaching them.
“Come with me,” he said stiffly, his thick Russian accent undeniable.
“Stay here,” Zera told Ines.
“No. Both. Come with me,” he said adamantly and then turned, expecting them to follow.
Zera did not want to go with Ines.
“Go out the exit door,” she said quietly as she slipped off the seat. “Now!”
“No. I’m not leaving you,” Ines insisted.
She got off her seat and walked ahead of Zera once more. Zera gritted her teeth and swore she was going to shake the hell out of Ines for being so stubborn once they got home. If, they got home, was Zera’s next thought. Because as they walked through the club, two more men came up behind them while Scarface led them toward a black door that blended in with the black wall.
Seconds after Scarface walked through the door, he turned, grabbing Ines around the waist and pulling her back up against him.
“Shit!” Zera cursed and reached for her gun.
One of the men behind her hit Zera across her shoulders with something and she fell, her gun sliding across the floor.
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br /> “Get her!” Scarface yelled. “Bring them both to the truck!”
“Not today!” Zera replied.
She rolled over onto her back at exactly the moment that one of the other burly guys came for her.
“Get up, bitch!” he yelled and bent lower to pick her up.
Zera lifted her leg, pulled her knife and sliced both his arms before he could touch her. He flailed backward yelling out in pain. The other guy was coming for her. Zera jumped to her feet. These guys were big but they weren’t light on their feet, so Zera was able to dodge to the side and then go in, jabbing the knife into the other guy’s side. She made the colossal mistake of thinking that made her the winner, but when she turned it was to see Scarface tossing Ines to the floor like a ragdoll. He aimed his gun at her. Zera spotted her gun on the floor, behind him.
“Hey!” Ines yelled.
She’d picked up Zera’s gun.
“Ines, no!” Zera screamed, but it was too late.
Scarface had turned quickly firing at Ines. She took the bullet and slammed into the wall. Zera screamed. She jumped onto Scarface’s back, sinking her knife into his skin a few inches from his spine. He yelled in Russian, calling her all kinds of names, but Zera held onto him, pulling her knife out and jabbing it back into him again. Scarface turned, slamming her back to the wall, temporarily knocking the wind out of her. But Zera didn’t have time to be hurt. She scrambled across the floor while Scarface was staggering, his wounds bleeding profusely. She got to her gun, lifted it and shot him where he stood.
When Scarface fell, the other two, whom Zera suspected did not have guns, scattered, shouting “Backup! Backup!” into the radio pieces they wore at their ears.
“Dammit!” Zera was cursing again.
She went to Ines whose chest was covered in blood, her eyes wide, pupils dilated.
“You are gonna be just fine,” she told her. “Silly girl. I told you to go home.”
Zera lifted Ines’s arm and quickly wrapped it around her neck. She stood, pulling Ines up with her and dragged her friend with her to the door they’d come through. This hallway apparently wasn’t soundproof so in the main area of the club pandemonium had ensued at the sound of the gunshots. People were running and screaming, trying to get to either the exit door or the entrance. Zera spotted more goon-like men coming from the exit toward where she was standing. She ducked her head down and tightened her grip around Ines’s waist.
Moving with the crowd and praying none of Luka’s men could see her, Zera continued to move. Her gun in one hand, the other hand feeling the blood that had seeped through Ines’s blouse, warm her fingers. They made it to the front door and the sound of sirens was a godsend. But Zera knew that until she was in a police cruiser, she and Ines were still in danger. So she moved down toward the end of the block, away from the crowd.
“I’ve got you,” she told Ines as she lowered her to the ground and propped her up on the wall. “We’re gonna get you to a hospital and they’re gonna fix you right up.”
Ines was not talking and her lids had lowered.
“No. No. No. You look at me, Ines. Look at me!” Zera insisted.
Ines did not open her eyes. Zera’s heart slammed against her chest and her other hand continued to grip the gun as she looked down toward the club. People were pouring out, those goons included. They had looked up the street in her direction, but she’d pushed Ines back into the doorway of a storefront. It was dark up here, they wouldn’t see her. Hopefully.
Police cars pulled up from different directions. The one that came down the side of the street where they were became Zera’s savior. She leapt up from where she’d been crouched and ran out into the street, waving for the officer to stop. He did, and jumped out of the vehicle.
“She’s shot!” Zera told him. “My friend. Right over here! She’s been shot!”
“Où? Nous avons besoin d'une ambulance! Tout de suite!” the officer yelled into his radio.
“Yes! Yes! An ambulance! Yes!” Zera repeated over and over again. That’s just what they needed an ambulance because Ines was going to be fine. She was going to get up and give Zera her brilliant smile. She was going to walk down the runway in the Paris Fashion Week and she was going to be fabulous. She had to.
Zera’s hands were shaking when the ambulance finally arrived. It wasn’t until she’d climbed into the back of the ambulance that she realized at some point after the officer had arrived, she’d dropped her gun. It didn’t matter. Only Ines mattered. Tears stung her eyes and Zera shook her head. Ines mattered. Her life. Her career. It mattered. Zera would never forgive herself if she’d done something to end that. She couldn’t take it. First Hiari and now Ines. No, she thought as one tear rolled down her face regardless of how a part of her knew it was futile. It could not be Ines.
The ringing of her cell phone scared her and Zera hurriedly wiped the tears from her eyes as if she thought whoever was calling her would see them. She felt like crying all over again when she looked down at her hands and saw the blood. Ines’s blood.
“Hello,” she answered, her voice shaking just like her hands.
“Zera?”
It was Dane.
“We need to talk. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. It’s important that we talk tonight. I’m leaving in the morning.”
He was saying something. A lot of something but Zera just wasn’t deciphering it all.
“My friend’s been shot,” she said. “She’s bleeding. We’re in an ambulance and she might…she’s…I can’t talk to you right now.” She disconnected the call and returned her attention to Ines.
This was no time for distractions.
Had Dane said he was leaving tomorrow?
PART II
Rain can soak a leopard’s skin but it does not wash out its spots.
--African Proverb
Chapter 11
Dane was a fool.
He knew this and still drove to the hospital in search of Zera and her friend.
It had been the way she sounded when she’d answered the phone. Shaken, was the best way to describe it. Dane hadn’t liked that sound. He was already packed, his suitcases in the trunk of the car. All he had to do was drive to the San Régis where he planned to spend tonight. His jet would be here first thing tomorrow morning to take him back to New York. There had really been no need to speak to Zera personally. He could have simply sent her a text letting her know that he’d paid for the room at the Novotel through the early part of next week, so she could stay there if she needed to.
Why should she need a place to stay? If she was an American agent working on some type of case, wouldn’t her lodging be taken care of? But Cade said she was on a leave of absence? So what was she doing? Cade had also mentioned an organized crime case. Was Zera involved with the mafia in some way?
It didn’t matter, Dane told himself as he parked the car and prepared to get out. None of this mattered to him. He did not live in Paris and he and Zera were not involved in a relationship. It was an affair, just as they had shared before. Nothing new here. Except that he had gotten out of the car and was now entering the building. He had no idea where he was going, but once in the emergency department he saw a cluster of police officers and figured that was a good place to start.
Zera said her friend was shot. That was a crime, so police should be involved. Dane tapped one of the officers on the shoulder and told him who he was looking for. At first the man had looked clueless, but then another officer standing behind him said, “Down that hall. In the first examining room. The detectives are in there with her.”
He’d spoken in French while eyeing Dane as if he wanted him to explain who he was and why he was there. But Dane didn’t say another word to him. Instead he walked down the hall the way the officer had indicated and made a left turn into the first exam room. He stopped just inside the door when he saw her.
There was blood on her face and her hands. Her shirt and the left upper half of her jeans were soaked in bloo
d. Dane’s fists clenched at his side and he told himself to remain calm. She was sitting up on the side of a bed, while a nurse unwrapped a blood pressure cuff from her arm.
“What else did you see?” a man dressed in a dark wrinkled blue suit asked in French.
“It was dark,” Zera said. “People were running and screaming and we were just trying to get out. I had to kind of carry Ines because she was shot and she was bleeding so much.”
“But you did not get shot,” the man asked her. He wore wire-rimmed glasses pushed high on his face. His silver hair was parted and slicked down on the sides. He held a pencil and notepad but wasn’t writing anything down. “Where was your friend when she was shot?”
Zera blinked. The nurse took advantage of Zera’s momentary silence by placing a thermometer into her mouth. Zera continued blinking while the officer stared at her. When the thermometer beeped the nurse took it out of Zera’s mouth and wrote something on a piece of paper.
“Miss…you never gave me your last name,” the man said to Zera.
“Kennedy,” she replied. “My name is Zera Kennedy.”
Up to this point the entire exchange had been in French, but when Zera said her name she’d spoken clear and concise English, without her African accent.
It occurred to Dane in that moment that there’d been another time that he’d heard Zera speak this way. At Emmet’s New Year’s Eve party. She looked beautiful that night, sexy and alluring. But no one would have ever guessed she was a native African.