Chapter Six

Shakespeare and Company was a small bookstore on Left Bank’s rue Bucherie that paralleled the Seine. After reading a book about a writer who spent some time staying at the bookstore, Alyson dreamed of visiting the unique, famed establishment.

“I knew the bookstore was close to the Notre Dame, but I had no clue it was just a stone’s throw away, as we say in America.” Alyson turned away from the view of the Seine and the huge cathedral on the opposite side of the river to turn and gaze once more at Shakespeare and Company.

“Yes. ‘A stone’s throw.’ I remember that expression from my time in the States.” Niko ran a hand up her back, and her body responded as it usually did to his touch. She’d soon have to make a decision about him. Either tell him to stop touching her or make the nine-hour flight home as one super-aroused woman.

She cast him a sidelong glance. How totally unexpected it was to find herself in such a situation. For the last ten or eleven years, she was barely touched by a man, namely her husband, and now she was in the company of one charming drop-dead-gorgeous hunk who touched her at every opportunity. Had to be the thong. No, more than likely, it was Niko’s innate nature. He was probably touchy-feely with every woman he was around. She was the one with the real problem—she was loving it.

One of her stilettos got stuck in the crevice between two of the cobblestones lining the walkway and she momentarily lost her balance. Niko’s arm snaked around her.

“Easy, Aly. I’ve got you,” he purred, making her insides do that female happy dance they’d been doing all afternoon and evening.

Lord, but he’d make an awesome James Bond. Maybe that was the attraction; she was a James Bond fanatic, owning every movie and book about the British government agent. Maybe something in his cavalier attitude reminded her of 007. Maybe I’m just hunting for excuses.

“Thanks, I’m fine.” Needing some distance from his touch and magnetic appeal, she stepped away. They were standing in the small courtyard in front of the forest green storefront with school bus yellow trim. Its windows displayed rare books, all written in English as were all the books in stock at this Paris institution.

She thought the bookstore would be bigger. But as she was discovering, so many things in France were smaller than back home: hotel rooms, cars, portion sizes in restaurants and stores. The charm of small neighborhood shops stirred something in her soul—a feeling of wanting to belong, which was ludicrous. Maybe she needed to relocate to an area where she could walk everywhere like she did here. An area with little shops and eateries. She’d have to think about that idea and do some online research. Where would she look? What state?

Niko turned to regard the two men behind them, and she turned, too. The men, engaged in conversation, stood against the wrought iron fence around an area of shrubbery and flowers at the opposite side of the small courtyard. When the two shook hands and took off in different directions, Niko’s attention reverted to her.

“Do you think we’re still being followed?” Her eyes darted around for anyone who looked suspicious or had a tattoo like Niko described earlier. She thought her danger over, but if her protector was still eyeing everyone around her, maybe it wasn’t.

“Just being cautious, which never hurts. Don’t forget, you promised me you’d relegate the worrying detail to me. I’m always aware of our surroundings.” He trailed the pad of his index finger across her upper lip. Her tongue came out to wipe away the effects of his touch. “Yeah, well, look where being aware got me.” She was interrogated for hours, pursued by terrorists and protected by a very fascinating man. Frankly, she was having the time of her life, and it surprised her to admit that. A slow smile blossomed. Boring Alyson was having an adventure.

She pulled her camera from her bag and held it out to Niko. “Would you take a couple pictures of me standing in front of the store? Wait, you’ll need the flash on since it’s starting to get dark.” She pressed a button and handed the camera to him.

“I’ll do my tumbleweed impersonation.” For over fifty years George Whitman, the American owner of this Parisian bookstore, offered free food and a bed to penniless artists and writers. In exchange, those persons, referred to by Whitman as “tumbleweeds,” had to read a book every day and work two hours daily at Shakespeare and Company.

Stepping over to the doorway, she turned and struck a pose. “How does one look like a starving writer or artist after the meal we just had?” In a moment of whimsy, she sucked in her cheeks and crossed her eyes.

Niko shook his head and laughed before taking her picture. “Now, move to the bench in front of the store and sit down. I’ll take a couple of you there.”

“Okay.” She moved to sit, noticing the initials and hearts crudely carved into the bench. A young man, dressed totally in black, his long straw-colored hair sporting a streak of cherry-red in the front, sat at the opposite end of the wooden seat. He was drawing on a sketchpad, his feet propped on a beat-up saxophone case. Tipping his head once in acknowledgement, he spared her a smile before returning to his sketching. A worn backpack with a sleeping bag tied to its bottom rested at his elbow. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his movements. Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Did he mean her harm? Was he part of the terrorist ring? What was in the music case? A gun? Goodness, she was seeing evil everywhere.

After taking a couple pictures, Niko sat next to her. He nodded to the young man and spoke to him in German. The stranger responded in German also. How did Niko know?

The kid stood and came over, extending his hand. “Derrek Schuyler.”

Niko rose, shook Derrek’s hand and asked if he spoke English. Derrek nodded and her protector continued the conversation in her tongue, obviously so she’d feel included. A kindness she appreciated. He introduced her to Derrek, who seemed very personable.

“Are you from America, Alyson?”

“Yes, North Carolina.”

“A university buddy and I went to America the summer after we graduated. We hiked the Appalachian Trial. We rode horses down into the Grand Canyon. So utterly cool. Laid in the sun like Greek Gods on a California Beach.” He rolled his eyes. “The things we saw!”

“No doubt.” Alyson laughed at his animated way of talking. He seemed like a nice kid.

“Would you mind taking a picture of the two of us?” Niko extended her camera to Derrek and then sat, laying his arm across her shoulders. “When he’s done, we’ll go inside.” He tugged at a strand of her hair. “Do you know you’re sitting on his bed?”

Her head spun in his direction. “What?”

Niko jerked his chin toward Derrek. “He’s a starving artist from Berlin, hoping to get a bed inside eventually. Until he does, he sleeps out here or under the bridges over the Seine, or ponts, as we call them in France.”

“Really? Will he be safe, do you think? Tell me, how did you know he was German?”

“His boots are the style very popular in Germany right now. Plus he has a German flag on his backpack. Also, the word in his tattoo is German.”

“You’re very good at seeing details, aren’t you?” She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he only see the surface things? No, she sensed he could see more, much more.

“It’s my job.”

“How many languages do you speak?”

He shrugged in that way he had. “French, Italian, German, English, Arabic, Korean and a smattering of Chinese. I seem to have a penchant for learning languages.” His eyes sparkled and a sly smile curved. “Now, lean closer and kiss me.”

“What? No! I’m serious. Look, no more kissing.” Just because she was away from home did not mean she could or would throw away her principles. Would she allow a man to kiss or fondle her on a first date? No. Then why should this situation be any different? Older woman looked to handsome young stranger for a little comfort; sounded rather sad and sordid. Frankly, the whole idea gave her the creeps.

He pulled her into an embrace. “Why not? We’ll e-mail the picture to Gwen tonight.” He tilted his head to the side much as Simone had. “Don’t you enjoy kissing? Come closer,” he whispered. His head dipped.

Oh, God.

If she didn’t stop this dark-haired, sexual freight train, she was headed for a brief affair. How pathetic was that? It was pathetic, right?

She was going home in a few days. Once she boarded the plane, she’d never see or hear from Niko Reynard again. Was she capable of giving herself so easily and quickly to a stranger? No, she wasn’t. No matter what her traitorous, raging hormones screamed—and, God help here, they were screaming…and moaning…and panting. Still, she couldn’t have a casual affair.

She slapped her hand against his chest and pushed him away. “Stop it. Stop it!”

His forehead wrinkled and he wiped her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. Tears she didn’t know she was shedding. “Aly, why are you crying? What have I done?”

“What have you done? Since we’ve met, you’ve been touching me nonstop. We’re strangers, you and I. Back off. That kiss this afternoon, when you thought we were being followed, was one thing. Although I doubt it was really called for. You could have simply looked over your shoulder.”

One dark eyebrow rose and a smile played briefly at his lips. “Perhaps.”

“Well, perhaps, you better show me some respect. No more kissing.”

His dark eyes narrowed and a muscle bunched in his jaw. “I do respect you. Very much.”

“Then treat me as if you do. Treat me like a woman you’ve just met. Stop trying to turn me into some nubile nymphomaniac and keep your hands to yourself.” She stood and turned to tell him one more thing. “Look, I understand your job is to protect me, but I insist you keep your hands off me while you do it. This foolishness has got to stop right now. Between the terrorists and you, my nerves are ready to snap. I can’t take anymore.”

She hurried inside the bookstore, even as part of her heart remained outside with the man whose espresso eyes and warm fingers made her tingle. A man who stirred such yearnings in her body and soul, yearnings so strong and unfamiliar she simply didn’t know how to deal with them. These feelings were too much, too soon, and they frightened her.

Not only was she running away from members of The Red Hand, she was also running from the sensual magnetism of Niko. A very intriguing man who, only hours earlier, had strutted into her life, full of arrogance and attitude. A young man—emphasis on the young—who made her feel, hope and dream.

****

Niko sat forward, his hands dangling between his spread legs. What had he been thinking? He glanced over his shoulder through the bookstore window. She was wiping her eyes. Dammit, she was still crying. Crying because he pushed her. Why had he pushed her? She’d be gone soon, out of his life. Just what was his goal here? To shield her or seduce her?

“She going to be okay?” Derrek handed him Aly’s camera and then cast nervous eyes to the bookstore window.

“Yeah, once I apologize. I pushed her too hard.”

Derrek sat, pulled out his saxophone and hung it at his neck. “Good luck, man. Women are a puzzle. They’ll break your heart every time.” He moistened the reed and, placing the mouthpiece in his mouth, began playing a soulful tune.

Niko stood and walked across the small courtyard, rubbing the back of his neck. She was right. He allowed his protection assignment to get personal. In fact, he did so from the moment she regarded him with those soft blue eyes in the elevator back at headquarters.

Granted he didn’t have to keep his arm around her to keep her safe. Nor did copping a feel of those fantastic legs of hers back at the shoe store heighten her security. Although, it had heightened his awareness of her. The woman was starving for a man’s touch; it was evident in her reaction. She all but purred when he had his hands on her, and what man wouldn’t be turned on by such a sensual response?

Aly was like a tight rosebud sorely in need of warmth to open and bloom, and she most definitely made him warm—damn hot, to his surprise.

He ran his hand over his face, remembering that frantic kiss along the street. Aly was accurate in her suspicions. There’d been no real need for the kiss—except for his very real need to taste her. Lord, she had a sweet mouth.

Something about her pulled at him like metal chips to a magnet. Still, he had no right to allow his attraction for her to enter into all of this. Hadn’t he always executed his assignments with the highest degree of professionalism? This assignment could be no different. He glanced back at the window of Shakespeare and Company. “Okay, Aly, if this is how you want to play it, so be it.”

Niko stepped over to Derrek’s open saxophone case and dropped in enough euros to pay for a night in a hotel. He laid a business card on the bench next to the saxophonist. “Call me if you need anything. Maybe we could meet for an espresso in a few days.” Derrek gave a quick thumbs-up sign and nodded as he wailed some mournful notes, drawing an audience for the impromptu street concert.

When Niko stepped into the bookstore, Aly was stooped over, looking at dusty books on the bottom shelf of one of the myriad of bookshelves. She held two books when she straightened, a smile of delight on her face. Niko went to bookshelves on the opposite side of the store, determined to grant her the space she wanted.

This quirky, eccentric bookstore was one of his childhood haunts. His papa brought him here as part of their “Boys Day Out.” As the only boy in a houseful of sisters, he deeply needed that male-togetherness time. He and his papa, an accountant for the French government, stopped at the Notre Dame to say a prayer and light a candle before going for breakfast. Then they visited a museum and later had canapés along the street, often while watching street performers. Their excursions always ended here, looking for literary treasures.

As a teenager, he devoured English books from this store to broaden his understanding of the language. Then after he returned from Carnegie-Mellon to help care for his papa, he came here often. As the man he fiercely loved grew weaker while his cancer grew stronger, Niko scoured these crowded, dusty shelves arranged in a tight maze, looking for books he knew his sick papa would enjoy. He read to him daily, especially after he got too weak to hold a book. There were memories here, wonderful, yet bittersweet.

A man with reddish-orange spiked hair, wearing a faded Elton John T-shirt stood behind the counter. Eddie, his name tag read, chewed on the end of a pencil in between scribbling in a notebook. From time to time, Niko felt him staring at him. No doubt Eddie was a tumbleweed passing through on his way to nowhere.

Niko looked through a book, Sketches of Paris. His gaze slid to Aly. An olive branch perhaps? She might enjoy this. Aly turned the corner in the bookshelf-maze, and he took the opportunity to secretly buy her the book. Wallet in hand, he approached the clerk.

“G’Day, mate.” Eddie, the clerk, took the book from Niko. “There are two more volumes in this Paris sketch series. Interested?” The gold cross in his earlobe dangled when he spoke.

“I might be.”

Eddie looked around as if trying to remember where the books were stored. “I thumbed through those sketch books just the other day. Bein’ an artist, they caught my eye.”

“Where are you from?” Niko detected an Aussie accent.

“Australia. Brisbane. I’m here to experience Paris, study art and do a bit of poetry writin’.” Eddie’s eyes were scanning the shelves. “Ah, here we go, mate.” He dragged over a stepstool and climbed to reach what he was after. Turning, he leaned down to hand the two books to Niko.

“Thanks. Sketches of Parisian Rooftops and Sketches of Gardens of Paris.” He quickly scanned through the pages. Aly would love these.

Eddie hailed a greeting at two men, dressed in suits, when they entered and ambled through the narrow store, quietly talking as they stepped up the wooden steps to the next section.

Niko briefly glanced at them before flipping the books over to check the prices. “I’ll take all three.” He waited for the total and paid his bill. “Wrap them please so my lady friend can’t see them. They’re a surprise.”

“Oh, lucky her. I just love…”

Suddenly, screams followed by loud thumping and books falling filled the bookstore. Niko sprinted in the direction of the high-pitched shrieking, gun in hand. He bounded up the steps and rounded the corner. “Aly! Aly! What the hell.”

He skidded to a halt. One of the well-dressed men he saw entering the store earlier was on the floor, books covering most of his body. His companion was staggering, holding his hands over his eye and screaming like a banshee as blood ran down his face.

In the corner stood a pale and trembling Aly, her frightened blue eyes dominated her face. “They…they grabbed me! Said they’d kill me if I resisted. I…I karate kicked them.” She swallowed, obviously trying to gain control. “Kung…kung-fooed the hell out of them, too. And…and…”—she pointed to the screaming man still on his feet—“I think I poked his eye out with one of my stilettos.”

Niko ran a hand down his face, keeping it over his mouth to hide the smile. What a piece of work. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to hug her. And damned if he didn’t want to shake the daylights out of her for stepping out of his sight. Hadn’t he told her to stay with him?

“You okay?” Niko’s gaze swept over her, looking for injuries. He fought the urge to pull her to him and embrace her until her trembling stopped. Frankly, if he were honest, his nerves weren’t the greatest right this moment, either. When he heard her scream earlier, cold fear did a free-fall straight through his system.

Some professional he was. While buying books, his charge, his Aly, had to defend herself. His gaze took in the shambles. By the looks of things, hell if she hadn’t done a damn fine job. “Answer me! Did one of these bastards hurt you? Are you okay?”

“I…I gotta pee.” She was shaking violently. No doubt going into shock. Today’s events finally took their toll.

“I’ll show her to the dunny,” came the Aussie accent behind him. “Ain’t no wonder she’s gotta use the loo. The woman beat the bullocks out of the blokes, she did. Gobsmacked ’em, I’ll wager. Shall I call the police or will you?”

“I am the police. Counterterrorism unit. Call for back-up anyway. But see to her first, please? Then call for an ambulance, too.” He holstered his weapon. The shrieking attacker was getting on his nerves. He narrowed his eyes and cut them to the suited banshee. He wouldn’t touch him until Aly was out of seeing distance.

“Come along, sweet pea. Ol’ Eddie will see you to the loo.”

A full-blown, sledgehammer-thumping headache was brewing behind Niko’s eyes. When the salesclerk and Aly rounded the corner headed for the toilette, Niko executed a Karate Shotokan bunkai strike, similar to one he used earlier on their chaser. This time though, he used a hammer-fist blow to the pressure point in the man’s lower jaw.

Thankfully the blow incapacitated and shut-up the freakin’ screaming man with the injured eye. After he slumped onto the floor, Niko whipped out a plastic zip-strip, crouched with his knee in the small of the man’s back, jerking the man’s arms behind him to secure his hands. He applied another zip-strip to his captive’s ankles.

Books moved and someone behind him grunted. Niko rotated just in time to see the older of the two attackers make a break for it. Niko chased the man outside and dove onto his back. The momentum of Niko’s jump forced them onto the cobblestone courtyard. Air whooshed from the man beneath him when he hit the stones. The entwined pair rolled across the courtyard, pummeling each other. Grunts and panted breaths punctuated the early night air. Each fought to gain the upper hand.

Niko’s strength and experience quickly put his opponent on his stomach. Planting his left foot as a base, he yanked his opponent’s arm across his back into an arm bar, cranking it until either the man screamed or he smelled urine.

The man’s screams pierced the night air.

With his left hand at the man’s shoulder, Niko slid his right leg alongside the rib to support the arm bar. Planting his left knee into the middle of the screaming man’s spine, he removed his revolver from his back holster and jammed it into the base of his captive’s neck.

“You’re under arrest.” He leaned over the man and whispered in his ear, “You should probably know I’ve got this health condition where my fingers cramp at night. I’d hate for a bad cramp to make my finger pull this trigger. Wouldn’t you?” He shoved the barrel of the gun deeper into the man’s fleshy neck.

His captive swore and nodded.

“Now, I’m in a bit of a quandary. If I remove this gun so I can put handcuffs on you, I lose my advantage, unless I shot you in the knee first.”

“We will kill you! We will hunt you down! We know all about you, you arrogant swine. You will regret this.”

Niko tilted his head to the side. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to say.”

In his peripheral vision, two tourists passing by gasped and gawked. One took a camera from his shirt pocket and snapped a few pictures.

Keeping the barrel of his gun rammed into the back of the man’s neck, Niko stood, yanking the man to his feet. The determined stranger broke Niko’s hold and attempted to flee once more.

With no hesitation, Niko shot him in the back of the knee. Screams filled the air as the man crumbled, his blood filling the cracks of the cobblestone courtyard.

Sirens wailed in the distance. Police vans converged on the scene. Derrek appeared at Niko’s side. “Need any help?”

Niko nodded. “His partner is inside, in the alcove of bookshelves on the left. He was unconscious when I left him. Could you go in and make sure he stays put? I have him restrained, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

Derrek flashed a huge grin. “Gladly.”

Two blue police vans careened to a halt. Niko exhaled a long, ragged sigh. Small tremors started; the adrenaline rush was waning. Soon exhaustion would set in. What a long, damn day! How did these two assailants know Aly was here? Had he missed a tail again? Was he being that sloppy?

Police officers in their black uniforms jumped out of the vans. Niko flashed his badge and began relating the facts. He sensed Aly’s presence behind him while he talked in hushed tones to the police.

He turned briefly to make sure she was okay. He wanted to grab her and shake her. Then he wanted to kiss her senseless. “Stay put. Don’t step out of my sight again. Do you understand?” Her eyes widened in shock or anger at his harsh, demanding tone. He guessed his hard glare told her the matter was not open for discussion. Or maybe the experience inside the bookstore made her see the danger of going off alone. She nodded in response.

An ambulance pulled as close as it could to the courtyard. Medical personnel rushed to the interior of Shakespeare and Company. Niko called one over to examine Aly, who insisted she was fine. The courtyard was filling with onlookers curious to what was happening. They weren’t the only questioning people. Damned if he didn’t have a few questions of his own. Like who took the picture of him and Aly together in the garage at headquarters, and how did the terrorists always know where they were?