The Paris Assignment (18 page)

“I’m not all that interested in whether or not you agree with me. I’ve asked you to stay out of sight.”

“How are we supposed to keep an eye on you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about with the surveillance equipment you’ve set up all over my home? I swear, a fly can’t land anywhere on the first floor without you guys knowing about it.”

“You hired us to be thorough.”

“I also hired a team I thought respected my wishes. Now please get out of here before my guests see you.”

Simon looked about to argue once more, but turned on his heel and marched back through the swinging door.

Straight into ten of her board members lingering in the back hallway, taking various calls or talking in small conversation areas.

Abby saw Lucas among the group, his phone pressed to his ear as he gave instructions to someone in German. His focus never wavered from his call and she offered up a silent prayer that everyone was too busy to register Simon’s disgruntled features and disappearance up the back steps of the house.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Campbell came into the hallway from the opposite direction, so he missed Simon’s departure. What he didn’t miss was Lucas’s presence in the hallway. With an ardor she knew wasn’t even remotely fake, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, lingering extra long while his hands reached for her, linking their fingers.

“Campbell,” she snapped. “These are my colleagues.”

He made a little show of pretending to tease her before dragging her back into the kitchen. They took the butler’s wine pantry again, away from the prying eyes and busy footsteps of the catering staff.

“What was that about?”

“Just hamming it up for the crowd.”

“Consider yourself hammed and stop coming on to me in front of these people. I’m supposed to be their fearless leader.”

“So be their fearless leader who’s got a sexy new boyfriend.” He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the hallway. “What just happened out there? You looked like you’d gone three rounds with a grizzly when I walked up.”

“Simon.” His name was out before she could think to censor herself.

“What the hell?”

“It’s nothing.” Her hand on his arm did little to cool the anger flooding his cheeks but it did have the effect of keeping him put in the kitchen. “He came down here sick of being cooped up on the third floor and I asked him to return there as quickly as possible.”

“He’s a hothead and he deliberately defied your wishes.”

“I know.”

“I’ll have David get him off this assignment.”

“Don’t. The board meetings finish tomorrow and then we move into a smaller set of meetings. He’s already entrenched. I’ll talk to David about it at the next break.”

Campbell looked ready to protest but she quickly cut him off. “You figure out anything with the prototype?”

“I’m this close—” He held up two fingers, no more than a quarter-inch between them. “And I should have a few answers by later this afternoon at the latest.”

“You get anything on our friend?”

“No.”

“Anything jingle on anyone else?”

“No.” As the word came out—full of angst and a good layer of disappointment—Abby caught herself. “Goodness, what is wrong with me? It’s like I’m hoping we find someone.”

“No, it’s not. You’ve accepted there’s an issue. There’s a difference.”

“It still doesn’t feel right.”

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted gently until her gaze was level with his. “Nothing about this feels right, Abby. That’s what we’re working toward. It’s what we’re going to figure out.”

She knew he was right. Knew the continued lack of information or confirmation on an assailant was only prolonging what was already a stressful situation.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Campbell bent down and pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

She felt his comfort—knew he was there for her—and knew that support made all the difference.

“Now. On to more important matters.”

“More important?”

“Do you have time for a quickie?”

Her mouth dropped as she pulled back but he kept a firm grip around her waist. “You did not just ask me that!”

“I sure did.” His grin was broad and cocky and she couldn’t hold back the answering smile, even as she tried for mock sternness.

“You don’t even look remotely contrite.”

“Why should I look contrite? I had the best night of my life last night and I’m anxious to repeat the experience.”

* * *

Lucas waved off the other attendees, gesturing he’d be in shortly, pleased when the hallway emptied of everyone. His call had provided an excellent cover and he stayed on the line, contributing every so often to remain engaged, asking questions of his staff to get them to run through an entirely new set of answers.

The best part was he could let it run as long as he needed, so long as he kept up a steady stream of questions his underlings had to scramble to get answers to.

The big man who didn’t look like he belonged had fled up the back servant’s stairs after his words with Abby. He’d already sensed there was something else going on in the house and this confirmed it.

On swift feet, Lucas took the stairs two at a time, the inane voices in his ear rambling on about investment yields in the Pacific Rim and expectations for the Euro. He could have cared less—he already had all the information, anyway—but he made simple sounds of agreement, encouraging them to continue.

The staircase ran to all the floors and he had a sense the second floor had no one so he kept going to the third.

And confirmed his hunch the moment he heard voices when he hit the top of the landing.

With a quick flick of his finger, he disconnected the call, unwilling to risk the slightest bit of noise echoing from his phone. He was the boss so he could do whatever he pleased, but if questioned directly he could simply say his call disconnected and he was seeking a better vantage point to pick up cell service.

Raised voices streamed out of a door down the hall and Lucas could make out the edges of a body as it paced back and forth.

“She requested we stay up here.”

“Are we security or lackeys?”

“We’re hired guns and we do what we’re told.”

“You’ve had a bug up your ass about Steele from the jump. That’s the real problem and if you can’t get it together, Agent Green, I’ll have you reassigned.”

Lucas heard the faint clinking of plates from two floors below, signaling the start of lunch. As he didn’t want to be missed, he descended back down the stairs, but now with all the confirmation he needed.

Security sat two floors above them, keeping an eye on the proceedings and ensuring Abby’s safety. Along with Steele, there were enough eyes and ears in the place to make sure he wouldn’t be able to touch her.

Lucas hit the back hallway and lifted his phone to his ear in the event he needed to playact about his call, but no one came.

He slipped back into the dining room just as the meals were placed before each board member and thought about the new details.

And plotted out how he’d incorporate this new intel into his plans.

Chapter 15

A
bby removed her jacket and settled it on the back of the small chair she kept in front of the writing desk in her room. She’d hang it up later—she was well able to care for her own things—but for the moment she just wanted a few minutes to think about the day.

The meetings had gone well—incredibly well considering everything that had led up to them. The board was open to her ideas and listened when she offered up solutions to their various business needs.

If only she weren’t dealing with a hidden assailant, how much more productive might she have been?

If only...

She’d learned long ago not to worry about the things she couldn’t change. Even if you oftentimes wanted to.

The night spread out beneath her once more as she looked out her bedroom window. The second night of the week in Paris was always an open evening and her European assistant had arranged for various options for the guests, ranging from show tickets to dinner reservations to spa appointments if the individual was so inclined.

For her part, she was just thrilled to have some quiet.

The light knock on the door thrilled her even more thoroughly and she called out a soft, “Come in.”

Campbell came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as they both looked out into the night. “Good day?”

“Productive.” He nuzzled her neck, pressing a line of kisses along her collarbone. Abby tilted her head, allowing him better access as the slow waves of pleasure swamped her senses.

Everything was more sensitive—more heightened—when she was with him.

Although she couldn’t argue with the delicious response he pulled so effortlessly with his lips, she also couldn’t hide her eagerness to put the current danger behind them so they could focus on the future. She turned in his arms. “Did you find anything?”

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him. “I’m so close. I had a breakthrough earlier this afternoon and nearly had the signature right there, but it’s proving elusive. I’ve got another program running.”

“Can I interest you in some dinner, then?”

“You want to go out?”

“David’s already arranged for security detail with car service for my meetings later this week since I do have a few in the city before I leave. We’ll get one of his guys to drive us and keep an eye on us from a distance.”

She saw the briefest hesitation in his eyes, but pressed her case. “We’ll be fine. That’s why we have support from others. Why I hired them.”

“I know.” His arms tightened around her. “I know.”

“Come on. We’ll have some wine and cheese and put all this behind us. And when we come home, your tests may even be completed and we’ll be another step closer to ending this.”

He agreed to go along with her dinner plans but as they climbed into the sleek gray luxury car fifteen minutes later, Abby still saw the tension lines that bracketed Campbell’s mouth.

And for the briefest of moments, she wondered if she was making the right decision.

* * *

The Eiffel Tower rose proudly in the distance as he and Abby enjoyed a small table near the window of the restaurant she selected.
Bistro,
he amended to himself. The lushly decorated place would qualify, with black-and-white parquet floors, colorful old French advertising posters lining the walls and a generally welcome air full of baked bread and active conversation.

She’d wanted to sit outside but he’d drawn the line at being fully out in the open and requested inside by the windows as a compromise.

Paul, one of David’s agents, had impressed Campbell thoroughly, doing a sweep of the restaurant before he left them to their evening with a solid nod.

With the excellent company and confirmed safety of the location, he settled in and tried to make the most of his evening out in Paris with a beautiful woman.

They drifted through conversation, various topics drawing them in before taking them down a new path. Things they’d both experienced in childhood. Funny or odd experiences each had had as an adult. And a funny series of stories about international travel and working with others whose cultural background and upbringing was different.

“You really dropped the sushi?” Campbell took a sip of his wine and eyed Abby’s smiling face over the rim of his glass.

“All over. I was intending to welcome my guests and my very American high heels snagged in the carpet and I tripped and fell flat.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt.”

“Oh, my pride suffered enough for the both of us.”

Campbell didn’t miss the sweet pink that lit up her cheeks and realized she was a woman of contrasts. Where the world saw a competent businesswoman—and she
was
that—she was so much more.

He’d observed her behavior the past few days and saw a woman full of intriguing contrasts.

She lived a life of privilege, yet she was unfailingly kind to the staff, thanking them for their hard work and recognizing their help in putting on the event in her home.

She hated having the security team in her home, but she’d ensured they were well-fed and given ample room in the house to give them both space and personal time.

And probably most telling of all, despite the clear evidence Stef had betrayed her, Abby had already made personal calls to deal with the arrangements for the woman’s funeral.

She reached for her glass and took a sip. “It’s nice to talk about these things.”

Campbell pulled himself from the warm thoughts of her. “Oh?”

“I often downplay them on dates. For some reason, a woman who has traveled the world isn’t all that interesting as a dinner companion.”

“Well, I don’t know who you’re dining with but they’ve clearly not seen what I see.” He reached out and laid a hand over hers. She turned her hand palm up so they met in the center of the table. “Which is obviously to my advantage or you’d be sitting this very moment with some banker named Chuck or some stuffy Wall Street analyst named Pierre.”

“I dated a Pierre once.”

“And I actually dated a Chuck.” At her bark of laughter, he added, “Her name was Charlotte, but that had been her nickname since she was a kid.”

When her laughter subsided, Abby’s gaze roamed toward the windows, staring at Paris’s most famous landmark, before turning back to him. “Yet here we are.”

“Here we are.”

“It’s easy, isn’t it?”

Was it?

Even as the question rose up in his mind Campbell knew the truth. It wasn’t simply easy to be with her, it was becoming increasingly
necessary.

“You matter, Abby.” Her fingers squeezed his in a flirtatious gesture that went straight to his groin.

“So do you, Campbell. What do you say we get out of here?”

The immediate shift in tone—from congenial conversation to lush needs that could only be sated together—had him waving down their waiter. Within minutes, he’d made quick work of their check with a few hastily thrown bills that offered a generous tip for their waiter’s expediency and was escorting Abby to the exit.

Campbell waved in the direction of the gray vehicle parked a short ways down the sidewalk as he and Abby stepped in front of the bistro. Paul flashed his lights in confirmation he’d seen them as he pulled out of the space. Abby linked her fingers with his and laid her head on his shoulder as he pulled her close.

Paul pulled up to the entrance and Campbell reached for the door just as a loud noise lit up the night. The briefest of moments passed—no more than a second or two—but Campbell thought it an eternity as his mind tried to process what was happening.

Screams echoed from the people sitting at the bistro’s outdoor table and Campbell leaped on Abby, pulling her to the ground as the sound of gunshots registered.

“Get down!” Paul screamed from the car and Campbell abstractly heard his car door open as he emerged to face the threat.

The ringing of bullets stopped, the last striking metal and causing the car to quiver on its tires.

The car...the car...

Campbell leaped up, dragging Abby with him. “He’s hit the car. Come on.”

“Paul! Paul!” Abby screamed their guard’s name and Campbell heard himself doing the same through the ringing in his ears. The patrons from the outside tables began streaming past them and as Campbell dragged Abby determinedly toward him, they both turned to see Paul lying beside the car, blood rapidly pooling around his head.

“Paul!”

“Abby!” Campbell dragged on her arm when she tried to go back. “Abby!”

She struggled in his arms and he just kept moving backward, willing her to understand. “The car. The gunman hit the car.”

She continued to struggle as he pulled her onward and then there were no words as the world exploded around them.

* * *

Abby felt Campbell’s strong arms around her—heard the endless screams and sobbing and abstractly realized they came from her—just as a huge cloud of fire exploded before her eyes.

The instinct to cower pulsed through her body as she and Campbell both bent over to shield themselves from the blast. The odor of oil and gas and a horrible burning smell filled her nose and flooded her mouth with taste.

The sidewalk brushed her cheek and Abby realized she and Campbell were both prone on their sides. She struggled to sit up as he did the same, pulling her close.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Paul.” A sob rose up in her throat, hard and swift, at the evidence their guard had gotten caught in the crossfire.

“Who did this?” The question rose up in her mind, followed by a cacophony of others.

How did this happen?

Why had they targeted an innocent man?

Why? Why? Why?

Questions without answers.

Sirens echoed in the distance and within moments Abby saw the lights that ensured help was on the way.

* * *

Three hours later, Abby leaned her head back against the sofa in the living room and let the tears fall. The police had been kind yet firm and promised a return visit the next day.

She’d already sent out the emails canceling the next day’s meetings. Had explained there had been a serious accident involving an employee acting on company time and she needed to attend to the needs of his family.

David’s team was visibly shaken and Abby knew they’d already increased their efforts, calling in additional staff and instituting patrols of the perimeter of her home. She and Campbell had also updated the police on the situation with her business.

Which had prompted the promise of a return visit.

Campbell slipped into the room and crossed to the small liquor table she had set up on the far side. She watched, as if outside of herself, as he poured two fingers of bourbon for both of them, then came to sit beside her with the two leaded crystal glasses.

She took the one he offered, sniffing the liquor before setting it aside.

“Take a sip. It’ll warm you up.”

“Nothing will warm me up.” She turned toward him and saw the lines of tension that bracketed his mouth. Knew she had to have similar lines creasing her own face. “Nothing can change this awful, awful thing. Or the fact that I insisted we come here.”

The words were freeing as they finally took shape and form and Abby set her glass down, unwilling to numb the guilt with liquor.

She was responsible for Paul’s death. Further, she was responsible for putting her entire board in danger. And she could add Stef’s death, as well, even as she knew Campbell wouldn’t listen to that in her litany of charges.

The only saving grace was that all of the restaurant’s patrons had escaped unharmed.

She didn’t know what she’d do if she had the blood of innocent bystanders on her conscience, as well.

“Nothing will warm me, Campbell.”

He reached for her but she pulled back, standing instead to pace the room. She saw the hurt that flashed in his eyes and wanted to erase it, but couldn’t bring forward the proper emotion to do so.

“Don’t push me away, Abby.”

“I didn’t listen to you. You said I should cancel this until we found out who did it but I didn’t listen.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“Of course it is.” The urge to rant and rail rose up in her throat, yet all that came out was a quiet voice that couldn’t be silenced. “It’s all my fault.”

He moved behind her and she stepped away from him once more. “I need to go up.”

“Let me come with you.” He stretched out a hand before pulling it back. “Let me hold you. Nothing more. Just let me hold you.”

She wanted that, Abby knew, more than she could ever say. But she’d gone into this alone, unwilling to take anyone’s counsel.

And now she needed to face the consequences alone, as well.

* * *

The night sounds of the Bois de Boulogne drifted around him as Lucas opened his flask and took another drag of his Scotch. The liquor burned a light path to his stomach but it couldn’t divert his rampaging thoughts.

Couldn’t make it quiet.

Why wouldn’t the voice stop?

He’d taken action, securing yet another kill along the way, but nothing worked. Nothing quieted that damned voice that whispered in his ear and taunted him.

Undeserving. Unworthy. Unloveable.

The voice rose up out of the woods behind him as the hit man Lucas had hired came into view. “Nice meeting place. I like the atmosphere. And the group of addicts I just passed will ensure even if we’re overheard, we’re not going to be disturbed.”

The smile was broad—jovial even—and Lucas knew the killing had calmed the hit man even as it had given him a high. A soaring height bigger than the one the addicts down the path were searching for yet would never find.

Lucas observed him just as he had at their first—and only—meeting.

Slim form, nondescriptive face, expensive shoes that looked like loafers but were in reality designed for speed, with rubber soles that made no noise when he walked.

The man’s reputation was unprecedented, but he’d grown increasingly tedious.

Even as he’d proven highly effective.

“Ms. McBane’s home is on the other side of this park.”