Chapter Twenty-Five

Late-afternoon sun glistened diamonds on the Seine causing Alyson’s eyes to squint when Niko drove across the bridge to ĺle Saint Louis. The glare from the sun and the palpable tension in the car intensified her headache. Niko hadn’t spoken a single word since his speech along the side of the road. Waves of anger shimmered around him like a passion-red aura. The man simply didn’t understand.

Yes, she loved him. To stay in Paris with him would no doubt be wonderful—if she could stay as Alyson Moore. To stay as Cally Aukland and live a lie was just too difficult. She based her life on codes her dad instilled: hard work, honesty, reliability and devotion to God, family and country. If she stayed, pretending she was someone she wasn’t and abandoned her family and country, what kind of person did that make her? A counterfeit just like Chaz.

For more than twelve years he pretended he was someone he wasn’t. That lie destroyed her happiness, so how could she build a new and happy existence by essentially doing the same thing? She couldn’t. Still, that didn’t change the fact she loved Niko with a passion or that she wanted to stay with him. Just not as another woman, but the strong, sensual woman she became during her short stay in France.

Niko eased the car to a stop at the wooden double doors, tugged a slip of paper from his pocket and entered the security code. The doors slowly opened, and he drove in—silent, mad as hell and distant.

When they entered the Reynard apartment, her dad’s thunderous voice vibrated from the salon to the entry hall. Viviana’s lyrical voice replied, adding a nice counterpoint. Niko set their luggage on the entryway floor and ushered her into the salon.

“Niko, Aly, you’re back!” Relief was evident in Viviana’s face. Whether she was simply happy to see them or greatly relieved to pawn her loud American guest, Tony Tofolli, off to his daughter remained a mystery.

Her dad stood and hurried to her, his arms outstretched. “Buttercup! Thank God. Thank God.” He wrapped her in his arms, drew her to him and sobbed.

Aly was shocked and touched by her dad’s reaction.

“Daddy, I’m fine. There’s no need for this.” She hadn’t called him daddy since she went off to college, but she felt he needed to hear it again. Her tears were flowing, too. Gwen rushed over and flung her arms around both of them. They stood in a group hug, sobbing, swaying and kissing.

For a few days, she feared she’d never see them again. Now, here they were. Emotions of love, relief and security swelled and poured out.

“Let me look at you, buttercup.” Her dad pulled away from the group hug, tugged a folded handkerchief from his back pocket, wiped his eyes and blew his nose. “Can’t say much for that new hairdo, but girl, you are a sight for sore eyes.”

Gwen planted several kisses on Alyson’s face. The two sisters stood, their arms wrapped around each other’s waist. “Now, Dad, I think she looks rather chic.”

“That’s what Niko said. He likes it.” She glanced over at Niko. He was standing with his hands in his designer jeans pockets, a look of defensiveness on his face and the emotion in his eyes unreadable.

Her dad turned and glared at Niko. “So you’re him, huh? The man who was supposed to protect my little girl and allowed her to get shot.”

Alyson bit the inside of her cheek to keep the grin from forming. Forty years old and dad was still calling her his little girl.

Niko winced briefly before stepping forward, his hand outstretched. “Yes, I’m Captain Niko Reynard. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.” The two shook hands, and it was obvious they were taking measure of each other.

“I’ve got a lot of questions to ask you, young man.”

“Fair enough. Sir, shall we step into the den so I can apprise you of the situation at hand?” He turned to Jean-Luc. “You’ll be joining us. I’ll want to hear what’s happened while I’ve been gone. Maman, I think Aly could use some tea and some aspirins. I fear she has a headache.”

How did he know?

Obviously, he was trying to show everyone, including himself, he was in control of the state of affairs. Control was as important to him as her routines had once been for her. Because she cared so much for this man, her heart went out to him. She walked over and placed her hand on his arm. Tension vibrated. For a brief few seconds, his emotions poured from his eyes when they locked on hers, and then they shuttered again, closing her out.

“Gentlemen.” Niko walked into an adjoining room. Jean-Luc and her dad followed, the door closing quietly behind them.

Viviana breezed kisses on Alyson’s cheeks. “How are you feeling, dear?”

“Better. Stronger. Our time in Villerville was just what I needed.”

“Come sit.” She led Alyson to one of the sofas. “Villerville. That is along the English Channel, is it not? I will put the water on for tea, and then you must tell me all about your vacation. Gwen, would you like tea, also?”

“Yes, please.” Gwen sat next to Alyson. “I’m so glad we came. For a while I didn’t think we’d get to see you. Everyone was being so secretive, especially that hunk, Jean-Luc. Dad was so annoyed, kept grumbling under his breath about ‘damned Frenchmen.’”

“I was afraid he’d insult everyone. I’ve been treated so well here. Niko’s family is wonderful.”

“Tell me everything.” Gwen nudged Alyson with her shoulder. “I knew Niko was handsome from the pictures you e-mailed me, but up close and personal, he’s make-your-panties-damp gorgeous. Not as good-looking as his coworker, Jean-Luc, though.” She waved her hand in front of her face as if to cool herself. “Oh, if I could have that man and all his muscles for twelve hours, he’d never be the same again.”

“Hush. What if Viviana hears you?” Alyson glanced toward the doorway. “What pictures are you talking about? I never e-mailed you any pictures.”

“You most certainly did. In your last e-mail when you told me about the gay poet and the German artist. You sent me a picture of your new Pradas and another of you and Niko together. I knew as soon as I saw the picture of the two of you that you’d have an affair.” Gwen leaned closer and whispered. “What was he like? Did he turn you inside out with need? You did take my advice and have an affair, didn’t you?”

Had she? Was that all she shared with Niko these last few days? An affair? A brief, meaningless affair?

Gwen lifted Alyson’s hand and squeezed it. “Earth to Alyson. Are you paying attention?”

“I fell in love.” She turned her gaze on Gwen. “I fell in love.”

“Love? So soon? This isn’t you. You never make a quick decision about anything. Now you’re telling me you’ve fallen in love in two week’s time?”

“I’m not the same person. I’ve changed. Life can be so short.” Suddenly jumbled, fractured feelings slid into an orderly picture. Feelings coalesced into an understandable design.

Viviana came back into the salon, carrying a tray with tea and pastries. “I had Simone bring some pastries over earlier before she went to work.”

Loud voices emanated from Niko’s office. Viviana set the tray onto the coffee table. “Oh, dear, sounds like things aren’t going well.”

“The hell she will!”

Alyson would recognize her dad’s booming voice anywhere.

“Excuse me.” She rose, marched to the door of Niko’s office and entered. Three heads swiveled in her direction. Male egos flashed neon “Danger” signs. Anger vibes ricocheted off the walls. Testosterone dripped onto the oriental carpet. Eyes snapped and jaws were clenched. Things were not going well at all.

“Pardon me, gentlemen, but Niko and I have some unfinished business.”

She went to the man she loved and surprised him by curving her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him toward her waiting lips. She kissed him in front of her dad, knowing she shocked him. Frankly, she didn’t care. She had to prove something to herself—and to Niko. What they shared in Villerville was not a brief, casual affair.

Niko pulled back a fraction of an inch and murmured against her lips, “God, cherie, I never needed anything more.” Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and took control.

When the kiss ended, she turned in his arms and faced her scowling dad. Niko kept his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against the solid wall of his chest.

“So, that’s the way the wind blows, is it?” Her dad had his hands on his hips.

“Yes, Dad, that’s the way the wind blows. I love Niko and trust him. I want you to trust his judgment, too.”

“He says you’re stayin’ here in Paris. That so?”

Niko pulled her tighter against him in a proprietary gesture before she spoke. This couldn’t be easy for him. In an equally proprietary signal, she reached behind her and rested her palm on his muscled thigh. In her opinion, they both needed that physical connection.

“That’s still up for discussion. I understand his logic in this matter, but I don’t know if I can live a lie by pretending I’m someone I’m not.” Being in the security of Niko’s arms strengthened her. They really were two halves of a whole; something she never experienced with Chaz.

“I’ll probably stay for a couple of months. However that’s a decision Niko and I have to make together. I won’t be railroaded into anything, by either of you. Is that clear?”

“Buttercup, you’re an American. Surely you wouldn’t think of staying here in Paris.”

“A woman stays with her husband, Mr. Tofolli. I plan to marry your daughter.”

Her dad’s face turned beet red. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

“Look, I’m forty years old. I make my own decisions. The two of you need to stop snapping at each other and cooperate.” She turned and placed her palm on Niko’s cheek. Her words were low, meant only for the man she loved. “Tell Dad everything. Make him listen. He’s a retired policeman and a good man, stud muffin. Much like you.”

He covered her hand with his and nodded. “I will, cherie. I’ll do anything for you, you know that.”

Alyson leaned forward and kissed his neck, inhaling the scent of him. “Yes. Yes, I do, my stud muffin.” She walked toward her dad. “I know this is a shock, my falling in love so quickly. Please understand he has many of the same fine qualities you have. You both believe in fighting for what’s right. You both love your countries and your families. How could I not love him?”

Tears pooled in her dad’s eyes.

“I expect you to listen. Ask questions in a nice way. Please, Dad, do this for me.” She kissed his cheek, and he patted her shoulder.

Both Viviana and Gwen were standing in the open doorway but stepped back to let her pass through. Viviana was the first to speak. “Forget the tea, I’m getting a bottle of champagne.”

As soon as Gwen saw Niko’s mother leave the room, she hugged Alyson. “What in God’s name has happened to you? The old Alyson would never have voiced her opinion like that or stood up to Dad.”

“I told you. I’ve changed.” She took her seat again on the sofa. “I love Niko. It’s just that simple. With his help, I’ve also learned to love the woman I’ve hidden away all these years. He’s the first man who only sees the good in me.”

Viviana carried an ice bucket with a bottle of bubbly chilling and three champagne flutes. “Oh, I am so glad to hear you say that. A strong man wants his woman equally strong. Only weak men seek to belittle and control. My dear, you are exactly the woman my son needs. A good Italian woman.” She popped the cork and filled the glasses. “I hope you decide to stay. My Niko needs you. Did you see how he responded to your kiss? I think he loves it when you take charge. He would never allow anyone else to do that. He has always been so…well, so controlling.”

Alyson thought of the morning she blindfolded this woman’s son and took charge of their love making. Her body heated, melting in spots as she remembered how good it was to be with Niko.

“You’re blushing! Look, Viviana, she’s blushing. Oh, sister, do tell…”

“No way. Just use that terrific imagination of yours. Some memories are too precious to share, even with one’s baby sister.”

Viviana laughed. “Well said. Now, let us have a toast, my beautiful ladies.” She raised her flute. “To my future daughter-in-law and my two new friends.” Three glasses clinked together. “I have two more bottles chilling. If we get tipsy, those three handsome men in the next room can just take care of us.” She wiggled her eyebrows and took a long drink.

Gwen kicked Alyson’s ankle and opened her eyes dramatically. “Well, well.” She smiled into her glass.

“Where’s Rhiannon?”

“She went to stay with her other grandparents for a month shortly before we heard about your shooting.”

“So she doesn’t know?”

“No, thank goodness.” Gwen sipped her champagne. “Oh, the bubbles do tickle your nose. I’ve never had this before.”

Viviana topped off Gwen’s glass. “Well, then, Jean-Luc could be in big trouble. I saw how you were eating him up with your eyes. The young man is like a son to me. He has been in and out of my home since he was a little boy. His father was French and his mother Hungarian. A few months after Jean-Luc’s father died, his mother moved back to Budapest. I keep an eye on him for Durda.” She reached for one of the pastries. “Now, tell us about Villerville.”

****

Niko had never met a more obstinate man. Unless, of course, he looked in the mirror. He had to admit he respected Tony Tofolli for the strength of his character and for the years he’d devoted to law enforcement. If he were going to marry the man’s daughter—and he damned well would—he needed to establish a relationship, no matter how tenuous.

“Are we in agreement then?” His gaze swept to Tony.

“Yes, suppose so now you told me everything.” The older man slumped into a leather chair. “My God…my God…terrorists…slashed throats…bloody handprints. I can’t believe my daughter got drawn into this mess.” The man looked pale. “Law enforcement in a small Southern town is certainly a lot different than all this. Most we have are traffic violations, drunk and disorderly and minor robberies.” He made a distasteful face. “Once in a while we have some domestic violence. But nothin’ like this.”

“Jean-Luc, how about pouring each of us a snifter of brandy? I don’t know about Tony”—he turned to Aly’s dad—“may I call you Tony, sir?”

The man gave a wave of his hand and nodded in assent.

“Thank you. I think we could all use a drink.”

They sprawled in their respective seats, sipping brandy. “I meant it when I said I want to marry your daughter. I hope once you get to know me, you’ll give us your blessing. That’s very important to both of us. My papa and I were very close. I understand all too well Aly’s love and respect for you.”

Tony narrowed his eyes as if taking Niko’s measure. “She’s already been hurt once. That man sucked the life right outta her. Certainly you can understand my qualms. You two just meetin’ and all. Then there’s the matter of you livin’ on the other side of the Atlantic.”

“I understand. All I ask for is a chance. Frankly, Aly’s ex-husband had no clue as to the quality of the woman he married.”

Tony’s bushy unibrow rose at that remark.

“She’s a strong woman. Interesting. Funny when she wants to be. Intelligent…highly intelligent. I like that about her.”

He liked a lot of things about her, like how she responded to his touch or how she made him lose control. She was the only person he ever connected with on that deepest of levels to experience such a towering intensity of trust. He could not, would not lose her.

Earlier when she stormed into the den and kissed him in front of her dad, he was shocked and reassured. Desperation choked him minutes prior to her kiss. He was sure he was losing the woman he loved. The woman who in so short a time had become the very air he breathed. So when she waltzed in and in her unique way reassured him, his love for her deepened, just as it deepened every time he touched her or heard her laughter or saw passion spark in her fabulous blue eyes.

Seeing her reunion with her family earlier—the hugging, the kissing, the tears—he realized how unfair he was to expect her to give them up. She obviously loved them as much as he loved his family. Although he knew it on a surface level, he ignored the magnitude and depth of it. Why had that been so hard for him to grasp?

He was being selfish, that’s why. He loved her so much—hell, needed her so much—he was ignoring her needs. If they were going to mature as a couple, concessions were required on his part, compromises made. So be it.

Tony sipped his brandy. “You think you can keep this pretense of her death goin’?”

“I think so. Proper death certificates were filed. Other than you and Gwen, the only people who know the truth are my family, my best friend,” Niko motioned to Jean-Luc with his brandy snifter, “and the lady I’m buying the apartment from, Marie-Clare. We all have to get used to calling her Cally. With her new hairdo, she does look different.”

Jean-Luc leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “What about colored contacts to change her eyes? I know a good place to get them.”

“Good idea. I just hate to cover those blue eyes of hers.” Her soft blue eyes were the first thing about her that attracted him. “You’re right though, they would help.”

“I’ll order brown. Brown eyes are more prevalent. She’ll stand out less.” Jean-Luc pulled out his cell and punched in a number. He rose and walked to gaze out the window while he placed his order.

“Feeling any better about this, sir?”

Tony drained the last of his brandy. “How could a father feel better ’bout anything like this?”

Jean-Luc ended his call. “I’m on my way to Notre Dame’s plaza. A courier will meet me at the statue of Charlemagne with the contacts. I’ll be back shortly.” He strode out the door.

Tony watched Jean-Luc leave. “Big muscled galoots like him make me nervous. Is all this cloak and dagger stuff really necessary?” Tony glared at Niko. “Who is that muscle-bound kid gettin’ contacts from? Why can’t my daughter walk into some optical place and get them herself?”

“Our department uses a couple suppliers. They’re all quality companies. By meeting them elsewhere, we keep that all important layer of anonymity for Aly’s safety. We always have to assume we’re being watched. So we engage extra measures.”

“What a way to live.” Tony shook his head several times in disgust.

“You’re right there. I tire of it myself sometimes. At least I can use the information and techniques I’ve learned these last nine years to protect the woman I love. That is a man’s duty after all, is it not?”

For the first time, Tony smiled. “You know, I’m beginnin’ to like you. Now, back to my daughter. I still want to take her home to the States. Yet you insist if I do, she won’t be safe.”

“Did you read or hear about the killings at a restaurant in Atlanta? Five, six months ago?”

“Yes. Now that you mention it. Four people were killed by some kinda bomb.”

Niko nodded. “That was The Red Hand.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Authorities did not reveal there was a bloody handprint on an unaffected wall of the building. They were afraid the media would have the locals in hysterics.”

Air whooshed out of the older man’s lungs. “Dear God.” He ran a hand down his craggy face. “You sure ’bout that?”

“Yes. I flew over to give assistance. The Red Hand’s members are far-flung, but the bulk of their crimes happen on French soil. Members are mainly Algerian, many of whom hate the French, and Iranian, who hate Americans. They have a focused ideology.”

“Which is?”

“The Red Hand started after the invasion of Iraq. Since France and England helped America with the invasion, those three countries were targeted. The Red Hand wants outside influences to leave the Middle East. They want no part of capitalism or Western forms of thought. From all the intelligence I’ve studied, they are a small group, about a hundred, led by intelligent, diabolical and influential people.”

Niko stood and poured more brandy into Tony’s snifter. “My problem has been sifting through the many layers of deception and protection they use to shield their identity. Over the years I’ve apprehended several of their underlings. I’ve yet to catch a king-pin.”

“Has to be damned frustrating.”

“You have no idea. My biggest concern where Aly is concerned is if she goes home, where I can’t stay on top of things, she’ll be in danger. Of that I’m certain. One more thing to consider, if she goes home, she also puts her family in The Red Hand’s crosshairs. Aly loves that niece of hers.”

The man paled again. “Not my sugar dumplin’. They wouldn’t hurt a child, would they?”

“It’s never stopped them before.”

Tony stood and paced the room. “I’ll do all I can at home to keep my family safe. You’ve got me damned scared now, son. Since Gwen’s husband—damned fine man—was killed in Iraq, I’ve taken over as a father figure with that sweet child. She reminds me a lot of Alyson when she was small. Same big-eyed enthusiasm. Same love of color and art.”

The man just had to say that, didn’t he? Now Rhiannon was vividly important to Niko, too. His mind snagged on the vision of this child as a younger version of his Aly.

“I’ll make a list of precautions. I can make a few suggestions of home security systems. I’d be glad to make a few calls to firms in Asheville. Set things up for you. Wouldn’t hurt for you to contact the police there. Apprise them of the situation and give them my name and number. General courtesies one must observe in the political arena of law enforcement.”

“Pissin’ on someone else’s territory, you mean?”

“Exactly. Now, would you mind telling the ladies what we have planned? I need to do some things in here, go over some new intelligence Jean-Luc had with him.”

“Sure thing.”

“If you’d close the door on your way out, please, I’d appreciate it.” Niko moved to his desk and powered up his computer. He opened a file and wrote a report of sorts, listing all the events since he met Aly. In bullet form, he listed questions plaguing him about each instance of The Red Hand’s involvement. Rather than risking e-mailing it to himself at work, he opened his desk drawer to retrieve a disc.

One of the questions he had involved the security within his unit. Giselle’s death confirmed his suspicions someone in his department was associated with The Red Hand. The question remained: was she the only one? He took no chances.

The first case he removed from the drawer was cracked, so he tossed it away. He shuffled through supplies looking for another one. When his fingertips wrapped around one in the back, he pulled it out. “Madrid with Hae-Won” was printed across the top.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, he slipped it into his DVD player and moved to the sofa to watch it. Her smiling face popped onto his television screen. After her death, he watched this video several times a day, hitting pause and rewind until he memorized every smile, every blink of her eye, every nuance of her beautiful face. Viewing it this time, he smiled briefly. “Hello, beautiful. Time to say good-bye.”