He leads me by the hand into the glass-enclosed penthouse, which is as dark as the roof outside. We pass by shapes in the darkness – luxurious leather sofas and chairs and tables – until we reach a bedroom with a king-size bed. Grant pulls me inside the room and shuts the door. I let him kiss me everywhere on my body as his fingers loosen pieces of my clothing, one by one.Before I know it, I am standing naked in front of him, while he still wears his pants and shirt. I feel an erotic charge in the imbalance; I feel vulnerable yet sexy, an object of desire, nude in front of this man I desire so much.He pulls back the sheets and then lifts me onto the bed. As I lie there on my back, he parts my legs and begins kissing my belly… then my thighs… then the spot where my legs meet my body. I sigh and close my eyes and grip my fingers in his hair, urging him to go where I want to feel him most – but he resists.I playfully force him towards my pussy – but he refuses to kiss me. I can feel
Going back to Marcel’s restaurant is basically the most brutal return to reality ever.As we return to the restaurant hideaway, it hits me square in the face: this is really happening. I’m leaving. And I don’t know if I’ll ever see Grant again.I am on the verge of tears the rest of the morning.JP and Dominique are moving to the new safe house ahead of Grant. He will drop me off with the smuggler first, but after that, he’ll join his friends… without me.I don’t have anything to pack, so I just concentrate on tying up what few loose ends I can. At Grant’s request, I transfer three million to an offshore account for Marcel. Then I set up a string of smaller accounts that Grant can access – or give access to – in order to pay anyone who might help him.I back up the laptop to a secret server – all the bank account information, plus the GPS tracking program I wrote. It’s someplace Epicurus will never find, and even if he could, any attempt to hack the files will cause them to overwrite
When JP hears what I want, he flat out refuses. “No.”I lean over the desk. “JP… if you don’t tell me what they’re saying, I’m going to walk down into the main restaurant and find somebody who will. And if I can’t find them in the fucking restaurant, I’m going to go out in the street and find somebody there.”He looks at me fearfully. I wouldn’t do it. No way. It would be insanity. Suicide. What I would do is upload the audio to an outsourcing service and get it translated that way. But he doesn’t know that – and with my red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, I’m pretty sure I look just unhinged enough to follow through on my threats.“We both know you didn’t sign up for this,” I say. “I get it. You hate being part of somebody else’s love triangle. But I’m leaving in a few minutes, and you’re never going to see me again, so either you tell me what they’re saying, or I go find somebody who will.”He looks at me worriedly for a few seconds more… then gives in.“Putain d’merde, this is a ba
Grant and I are on an island in Paris. There are two of them, both in the Seine River. This island is the more famous one, because it has the Notre Dame cathedral on it.It’s a beautiful sight. One of the most beautiful views I could possibly pick before I leave Paris.But it’s impossible to enjoy it, because I am clinging to my last few minutes with Grant like a dying woman clings to her last few breaths.We’re in an alleyway, surrounded by seven of Marcel’s men, all armed, all wearing black masks. The smuggler is waiting in his boat on the river, just in case Epicurus shows up – or if Agent Duplass gets any ideas about trying to arrest Grant.Speaking of Duplass, he and Mailin are a hundred feet away at the other end of the alley, next to a black SUV. Just like yesterday, Grant led them on a wild goose chase to get them here, but it appears they were telling the truth about coming alone. There’s neither hide nor hair of any French policemen – just two other American suits who were p
WHAM!I slam into Mailan, and Duplass topples onto me, as our SUV spins out and does a 180. When the car comes to a halt, I look out and see dark shapes through the splintered windshield.“WATCH OUT, GET DOWN!” Duplass screams.I see him go for a gun.Mailan unbuckles his seatbelt, then mine, and throws open the door.“Come on!” he yells.We fall onto the asphalt amidst broken safety glass.There is the sound of French being shouted, then BLAM BLAM BLAM!One of the FBI agents in the car screams.Mailan pulls out a gun and aims it under the open door. “Run!” he yells at me.“What about you?!” I shriek.“I’ll be fine – NOW GO!”I take off in the opposite direction, running as fast as I can. The chatter of gunfire erupts behind me, and I hear bullets plink! into metal.The attackers are Epicurus’s men – they have to be.I want to scream at Duplass, So do you believe me now, asshole?But then I think about Mailin lying there in the glass, fighting for his life.I want to help – but ther
The water comes at me so fast. A split second later I’m engulfed in cold, wet darkness. It brings back the memory of when Grant and I parachuted into the English Channel, seemingly an eternity ago – even though it was only three days.I thrash back up to the surface, where strong hands hoist me out of the water and onto the boat.“GO, GO!” I hear Grant scream.Suddenly the boat lurches into motion beneath me, and we take off like a shot across the water.I cough and open my eyes to see Grant looking at me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen in his life.Then he kisses me, hard and passionate, with the intensity of terror turned into joy.For a brief moment, there is nothing else in the world. Nothing else matters, except that I’m reunited with him.He pulls back to look at me, and clutches my wet hair in his hands as he laughs. His eyes glitter and dance as he drinks me in.“Are you okay?!” he asks.I nod. My heart hasn’t quite recovered from the adrenaline tidal wave of t
We climb back into the boat, which is taking on water slowly. Pierre makes a call over his cell phone, which thankfully he has in a waterproof case. Probably standard issue for a man who works on a river. He starts the engine, I start bailing water, and we’re able to limp back to shore, where Marcel and one of his guys are waiting for us with a car. I grab the backpack and salvage the laptop, mostly to keep it out of the hands of the cops. It’s toast – a couple of bullets have gone all the way through. Not a problem, though; I backed up the tracking program on a server before we left. That’s all I need.The boat is halfway underwater and sinking fast when we abandon it and get into the car.“What happened?” Marcel asks as we speed off.“They got Grant.”I’m surprised at how unemotional I am. I refuse to think about the implications of what I just said. All I can concentrate on is getting him back, whatever that takes.“Mon Dieu,” Marcel says, his eyes wide.“It’s okay, I can track hi
Over the protestations of both JP and Dominique, Marcel gives me a burner cell phone. I remember Mailin’s number from the other day, when Grant was on the phone with him during the Eiffel Tower bust and had me repeat it back to him.The memory hurts. All I can think of is Grant’s face – smiling, cocky, alive.No.Stop.Just put one foot in front of the other and DO THIS.I dial Mailin’s number and say a silent prayer.Please God, please let him be alive – Someone answers after a couple of rings.“…hello?” Mailin’s voice says cautiously.“Oh thank God,” I breathe out in relief.“EVE?! Are you okay?!”“Yes – but they got Grant.”“Oh shit…”“Yeah,” I say, and my resentment boils over. “Do you believe me now?”“I always believed you, Eve. But Duplass is definitely convinced.”“So he’s alive?”“Yeah. He got shot, but it was minor. He’ll be fine.”I almost say, Well, that’s too bad, but I refrain at the last second. Not the best move to wish death on the people you need help from.“Are YO