Chapter Twelve

By the time proper paperwork was signed, an officer brought a contrite Marie-Clare to Niko. He took her gently by the arm and led her to a private area. “Are you well, Marie-Clare? Were you treated properly? May I get you some coffee?”

“Your concern is most kind. However, I wish to lodge a complaint against the officer who arrested us.” She leaned in, her eyes squinted in anger. “The man was brutal. Insolent. He was completely out of line. After he put handcuffs on Alyson, he put his hand down the front of her dress and fondled her.”

Hot rage he’d never known scalded his system like acid. “He what?” He would kill the bastard. His gaze slid in the direction of the man trimming his fingernails at his desk with an ice pack on his groin. “Tell me everything.”

The next couple of minutes passed in a red-hazed-blur of anger. Marie-Clare gave him the full details of their arrest, assuring him over and over Aly had not tried to solicit but had merely misspoken her French.

“Stay here please, Marie-Clare.”

Niko stormed over to the derelict policeman and punched him. The officer toppled out of his chair, too dazed to get back up. “How dare you fondle a woman? You put your hands on her breasts?” Niko grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and hauled him to his feet. “No one touches her. You filthy bastard!” He struck him again. Officers stood and yelled their protests. The department head ran to Niko, shouting profanities. Niko shouted back, telling him what the policeman had done. Once tempers calmed, somewhat, he insisted the officer be placed on suspension for his unprofessional conduct.

Marie-Clare was all smiles when he returned to where he left her. “You love Alyson. Oui? Deny it all you want, young man, but if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have behaved like that.”

He shook his head in denial. “No. No, I care for her, sure. Attracted to her, definitely. Love? I loved once before and it was disastrous. Love’s not for me. No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Madame.” He ran a hand down his necktie. She was mistaken. Right?

“You can’t will the heart to stop loving. It is impossible. The two of you care for each other and thus far are equally afraid to admit it.” She clucked her tongue in a sympathetic, yet accusing manner.

Niko took her hand and shook his head again. “We won’t discuss my feelings any further. I have some things I must discuss with you. Some bad news. Come, sit down and we’ll talk.”

“Bad news? What?” Her inquisitive eyes scanned his face as if searching for clues to what he was about to tell her.

He rubbed her hand as he spoke. “I’m afraid there’s been a murder.” At Marie-Clare’s gasp, he laid his arm across her narrow shoulders. “Your employee, Josette.” He held her firmly to his side. “I’m sorry, Madame.”

“Tell me my faded hearing did not hear you correctly. Josette is dead? My friend, Josette?”

“Oui, Madame.”

“No, it can’t be true. Not sweet Josette.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “I can’t believe it.”

He noted her rapid breathing and widened eyes. He turned her toward him and gently ran his hand up and down her back. She needed a human touch right now. “Take some slow, deep breaths for me, please.”

She complied, her eyes locked on his. “What happened? Heart attack? No, you said murder, didn’t you? This is all too horrible to grasp. Sweet Josette…”

“Yes, she was murdered. The terrorists who are after Aly killed Josette in your shop. The police are there and two of my agents are on their way. I’m having an officer drive you home.” Her trembling, age-spotted hand covered her mouth. Suddenly her frailty surfaced and tugged at his heart. “Will you be okay? I’ll have the officer stay with you until Aly and I get there. I would rather you weren’t alone.”

“You are most kind.” She dabbed a tissue to her eyes. “Josette was so caring and gentle. Who would want to hurt her?” Marie-Clare turned her tear-moistened eyes on him. “There is so much ugliness in the world.”

“Yes, Madame, there is.” At times he got so tired of all the bombs and killing, of dealing with the underbelly of society. Hae-Won claimed the job was draining the humanity out of him. At times, he thought she’d been right.

The older woman straightened, grasped his arm and looked intently into his eyes. “You must destroy these animals. These annihilators of common decency. For Josette, you must do this!” Then she collapsed against him, as if her command drained what strength she possessed. He drew her into a loose embrace and murmured words of comfort.

“Yes, Madame.” His jaw clenched so tight his head hurt. Destroying these terrorists was his job, and he did it well. Although, not as quickly as he liked. He’d been on the trail of The Red Hand for over three years and hunting them down with relentless determination for the last two.

After Niko saw Marie-Clare placed safely into the hands of a female officer, he turned his attention to Aly. If she kept those fantastic legs of hers at the safe house where she belonged, none of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have gone though his own private hell. Josette, innocent soul that she was, might still be alive. Marie-Clare wouldn’t be mourning the loss of her friend.

Aly needed to be taught a lesson, and he planned on being the teacher from hell.

Niko opened the door to the interrogation room and stilled.

Aly’s head turned in the direction of the noise, a blindfold over her beautiful blue eyes.

His gaze swept over her and he willed himself to calm down.

She was safe.

She was unharmed.

In fact, the woman he worried over for the majority of the day was not only unscathed, she had her hair and nails done. His temper started to rise as he stared. Her hair was shorter now. A head-turning red. Large golden hoops drew attention to her pretty face, as if she needed any help. Clear fingernail polish had been replaced with dark red.

His back molars ground together. He thought of grabbing and shaking her. Damned if while he was slowly going insane with worry, she went shopping. He packed her clothes for her. If there’d been a skintight dress like the one hugging her very appealing curves, he would have remembered. The dress showed more cleavage than he liked for her to display to the world and rode too high on her thighs, exposing the bottom of the butterfly wings of her tattoo. The damn dress was little more than a naval napkin. What possessed her to buy such a thing?

While fear gnawed on his gut all afternoon, she was having a girl’s day out, visiting a beauty salon and shopping. He should shake the daylights out of her. His gaze dropped to her shoes and his tongue nearly rolled out onto the floor. Good Lord! His fingers itched to forge a trail over those legs. The woman was messing with his mind and his libido, making him weak with lust.

Just to startle her, he strode into the room and slammed the door behind him. He took pleasure in seeing her jump. Because he was so damned mad, he walked to the opposite side of the table from where she sat and frowned at her. If he got any closer, he would put his hands around her slender throat. Twenty four hours. He had only known this woman for twenty-four hours, and she had him tied into knots.

“Who…who’s there?” Her head turned slightly from side to side as if hoping to hone in on his presence.

If he spoke, she might recognize his voice. No, he would not speak just yet. Slowly, he walked the perimeter of the room, his gaze locked on her. How could a soft woman contain so much strength? How was he to protect himself from her and her sweet allure?

He made two slow trips around the perimeter of the room, his anger growing with each step. Had she no clue what she did to him? How scared she made him when she walked out of his life? Before he realized his intent, he banged his fist on the top of the table. She jumped. “What in God’s name were you thinking?” he yelled in French.

“What? What are you saying? I don’t understand.”

Continuing in his native tongue, he told her what he thought of her leaving the safe house and how much he cared for her. Yes, he was yelling. Yes, he had lost control. With every ounce of testosterone in him, he wanted to haul her to him and kiss her and…and lay her back over this table and make love to her until she screamed his name in climax, until she knew who was in control here. Show her how she belonged to him.

He stopped his pacing and banged his forehead once against the wall. Good God, I’m losing it.

“Look, I don’t appreciate being yelled at like this. If I’m going to be interrogated, the least you snooty French authorities could do is bring in a policeman who can speak English. I’ve had just about enough of this city and its sex-crazed police force.”

He slowly turned, not believing what he was hearing. “You dare criticize our police force? We are one of the best in the world. All right, so the bastard who dared touched you was the exception, but I took care of him. I punched him in your defense.” This, too, was spoken in his rapid-fire French.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” She jerked her chin in irritation and turned her head to ignore him. “I refuse to listen to any more of your French ranting, you idiot. With the police force you’ve got in this city, I bet there’s not a single virgin left in all of Paris. Since I’ve gotten here, I’ve been touched, kissed, damn near seduced and groped. I’ve had enough. Either bring in someone who speaks English or put me back in my cell. Just make sure it’s not Captain Niko Reynard who questions me.”

“Why not?” he asked in French.

This much she evidently understood for she answered his question. “He was assigned to protect me. Only he kept touching me and kissing me in that fantastic way he has. Making me feel things. Making me believe he cared. Making me care for him in return. Making me believe he thought me…thought me…desirable.” She sniffed. “Dammit, now I’m going to cry. Go away. Leave me alone.”

He circled the room again, digesting what she said. Here they were, two people pouring their hearts out, thinking neither could understand the other. Only he was playing a dirty trick on her for he understood with painful clarity everything she was saying. Once he stood behind her he stopped, wanting to reach out and touch her in the worst possible way.

He owed her honesty.

He untied the blindfold.

“You’re wrong, cherie. I care for you very much.”

Her head whipped around and she scowled over her shoulder. “Niko?” She glanced quickly around the room. “Niko, it was you all this time?” He untied the bands securing her to the chair and unlocked her handcuffs. “That was you ranting and…and—” her eyes narrowed “—and listening to everything I said? You deceived me again?”

Niko shrugged. “Perhaps.” He rubbed her wrists, hating the marks on them. “We need to talk. Things have happened you don’t know about.”

She stood and he pulled her into his arms. “Aly.” He inhaled the scent of her and kissed her cheek and eyes. “Sweetheart, I was so damn worried about you.”

“Oh, were you now.” In a flurry of movement, she kneed his groin and karate chopped him across the back of the neck. “You lying bastard!” He dropped to his knees. She started to leave. His hand snaked out and grabbed her ankle.

She fell.

****

Alyson tried to crawl free, but Niko was too strong for her. Their rasping breaths of struggle echoed off the cold, industrial green walls. Slowly he pulled her back to him, the hem of her dress rising higher, as was her temper. She was tired of all the lying. It was time she showed him she wouldn’t be manipulated any more.

“Get your hands off me!” She kicked him twice in the knee. He grunted in obvious pain. “I detest you, you lying, manipulating French jerk.” He humiliated her, too, which only fueled her anger. The jerk tried to scare her, slamming the door and banging his fist on the table and then stalking around the room while he ranted in French. He knew she couldn’t understand what he was saying, but he damn well could understand her. Of all the unmitigated arrogant Frenchy gall.

He rolled on top of her and fisted a hand in her hair. “Do you have any idea the hell you put me through? Leaving the safe house was an idiotic thing to do! I credited you with more intelligence than that.”

Her eyes opened wide in anger at his words. Before he could insult her again, she grabbed his hair, yanked his head back and belted him a shot. An upper cut to the jaw followed, as did a slap to the side of his head. He rolled off her, cursing and holding his chin.

She stood and tugged on the hem of her dress. Squaring her shoulders, she resisted the urge to kick the insulting, arrogant French kisser while he was down. “I’d sooner spend the rest of my life in jail than be near you one more minute.” She turned to exit the interrogation room.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“To turn myself in.”

“Aly, wait! There’s been a murder. At Marie-Clare’s.”

She halted her exit, her hand on the doorknob and her heart sinking. “Dear God, not my friend? Tell me Marie-Clare’s all right.”

He stood slowly, his one hand still on his groin, pain evident in his expression. “She’s fine. The victim was her employee, Josette. The Red Hand killed her and left a note saying the murder was for you.”

Her hand fluttered to her mouth. “No, it can’t be true. Josette was killed because of me? No.” So much senseless killing by these terrorists, all for an ideology or religion, as if God would sanction such murderous acts. “Does Marie-Clare know?”

“Yes, I told her before I came in here. I secured a female officer to take her home. I promised her you and I would be at her shop shortly.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I still can’t believe Josette is dead. Why? Why would they kill her? She seemed so sweet. Although we only spoke briefly, I sensed a kindness.” She shook her head. “Marie-Clare must be devastated.”

“She was, yes. I think we should leave now. I want to see how the investigation is going, and you’ll want to check on Marie-Clare.”

“Am I free to go? Have the charges against me been dropped?” She should have been scared throughout all this—the arrest, the ride in the police van with its sirens blaring the entire way, the booking procedure and then being tied to a chair and blindfolded—but she’d gone from scared to incensed early on in the events of the afternoon.

“Yes. You’ve been remanded to my custody.”

“If I so choose, you mean.” At his arched eyebrow, her anger raised another notch. “I’m tired of being told what to do by a man. For twelve years I obeyed Chaz, hoping I could win his love that way. No more. I’d be obliged if you drove me to Marie-Clare’s. If you choose not to, I’ll hail a taxi. I’m going to her, not because you want me to, but because I want to be with my friend. Is that understood?”

“You don’t get it, do you? Your life is in danger.” He looked at her as if she were stupid.

“Yes, I get it. With the terrorists, my life is in danger. With you, my heart is in danger. You tell me, which is worse? Which is the most painful?” She turned and stormed out of the room. As she charged up the hall, a thought blossomed, a beautiful thought. She didn’t need sexy heels to bring a man to his knees, hell, she could do that with one well-placed kick.

Heads turned when she stormed though the department, mad as hell and head held high. She shot a quick glance back over her shoulder. Niko, his hair standing on end, his one eye swollen and his jaw rapidly turning from red to purple, limped along behind her. His scowl was either one of anger or pain, and frankly she didn’t give a damn.

Chuckles and guffaws from policemen filled the room.

Niko grabbed her elbow and she jerked her arm away. “Don’t touch me again or I’ll kick your balls so hard, they’ll kiss your tonsils.”

Laughter filled the air as if this were a comedy show, and she and Niko the stars, proving to her while most Frenchmen pretended they didn’t speak English, in most cases they did.

Niko limped next to her, looking as if he fought with the devil himself. Frankly, she was quite pleased. Nothing felt so good as being in control of one’s life. She reached out and punched the elevator button, stepping on after the doors opened.

When the doors slid shut, Niko pinned her against the wall and kissed her. She fought and he shoved his thigh between her legs, pinning one of her legs against the wall of the elevator and placing a hand on her other thigh to keep her from kneeing him again. He was angry, that much showed in the way he kissed her. Her anger drove her to return the passion he was pouring into the kiss with her own. His tongue flicked at her lips and she granted him entrance. Good Lord, but I love his kisses. Her hands slid up his chest and fisted in his hair.

“Aly,” he groaned, “You make me so damned mad.”

His lips captured hers again and gentled. Suddenly, the kiss turned tender and sweet. Niko broke the kiss long enough to exhale a shaky breath and angle his head before his lips commenced those soft, sipping kisses she enjoyed. She thought her heart would break with the tenderness of his embrace and kisses. “I was so worried about you. So afraid I’d never see you alive again.” His hand ran over her hair and down her back, pulling her against his erection. Both groaned with need. Finally, Niko released her lips and grazed his teeth along her jaw. “Before you do something else to turn my mind to mush, happy birthday, cherie.”

She’d forgotten. With all the craziness of the day, she’d forgotten this was her birthday. “Imagine everyone’s surprise back home when they ask how I celebrated my fortieth birthday, and I tell them I got arrested for prostitution.”

Niko laughed. “Actually, prostitution in Paris is legal. It’s the solicitation part we frown upon. You know I’ll never be able to hold my head high in that department again after what you did to me back there.”

She couldn’t tell if he were teasing or serious. “Maybe you needed a little humbling, Mr. Niko Reynard. Just like I was humbled after coming face to face with your girlfriend this morning.”