I'd Rather be in Paris Page 23

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  Chapter Thirty-One

  Lawson released the clip in his Heckler and Koch and checked it for the third time. Satisfied it was fully loaded, he clicked it back in and slid the gun into the waistband of his jeans. As he sat on the bed, he shoved his feet into his combat boots and began lacing up the right one.

  The room was a disaster, owing its current state of disrepair to his and Zara's last round of sex. One sheet was knotted around a bed pole on the headboard. The comforter and pillows were lying in a pile near the flagstone fireplace. One of the potted palm trees sat crookedly in its pot, having been tipped over and then hastily righted. Lawson smiled. It had been a day he wouldn't forget anytime soon. He could still feel the imprint of Zara's teeth on his left shoulder.

  It wasn't like him to lose control, to become so careless, but he'd done just that earlier in the dance studio. He'd taken her right there against the mirror, where anyone, including Christian or one of his staff, could have walked in on them. When she'd looked up at him with those big blue eyes, happiness and desire burning in them, he'd been too far gone to stop himself. He'd wanted to bury himself deep inside her and make her even happier.

  He was being completely unprofessional. While the majority of people who worked for the CIA were used to pushing the boundaries of protocol, Lawson wasn't. But this kind of craziness with Zara wasn't just a break from protocol, this was something else entirely. This was ... this was...

  Hell, he didn't know what it was, but he did know he was having the most intense, best sex of his life.

  Finishing with the first boot, Lawson went to work tying the second. The smell of Zara and sex wafted around him as the sound of the shower running in the adjacent bathroom filled his ears. He thought about her standing under the running water and damn if heat didn't shoot straight to his groin like a lightning bolt. He shook his head and slammed his booted foot back down on the floor. It had to stop. After the first lovemaking session, and in between lunch and a long nap with Zara tucked securely in his arms, he'd jumped her beautiful bones again. His obsession was going to kill him if he didn't get control. And soon.

  Because, even though he didn't want to admit it, she wasn't just a beautiful woman he loved having sex with. She wasn't his fuck buddy any more than she was his girlfriend. She meant something to him, but she was his partner. His work partner. Their relationship was only going to get more complicated.

  When the mission was over and they returned to America, the alternate reality they were caught in now—working a dangerous mission in a foreign country—would be over. They'd both go back to real life. Zara would stop looking at him with her heart in her eyes. She'd stop wanting him the way he wanted her. She'd return to her life and he'd return to his. Even if she stayed at Langley, he'd probably be lucky to spend more than a minute or two talking to her in the halls. She wasn't the kind of woman who would settle for a man like him.

  He heard the shower shut off in the bathroom and pushed off the bed.

  For now he had a job to do. Detaching his emotions, he grabbed his leather jacket, slipped it on and began loading the inside pockets with extra clips of ammo, a Swiss Army knife, a pair of high-powered night vision goggles and a small Maglite flashlight.

  His clothes and personal effects were already packed. He stuck his digitally encrypted cell phone on his belt buckle and packed his notebook computer and satellite hookup in his travel bag.

  Zara emerged from the bathroom dressed in a black sweater and black jeans. As she came to stand next to him, she raked her fingers through her towel-dried hair. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were shiny with lip gloss, but Lawson noticed her stiff, clipped movements as she kept her distance from him and grabbed the doorknob. “How soon do we leave?"

  "Ten minutes."

  "Did you talk to Flynn?"

  "I left him a message."

  Her gaze lingered on him a moment, her eyes hard and edgy. “You understand you're risking your career tonight."

  He grinned at her, trying to lessen her concern. “You'll put in a good word for me with Flynn before he stands me up in front of the firing squad, right?"

  His attempt at humor didn't work. She reached into her jean pocket, pulled out a key. “You'll need this."

  He snagged the motorcycle key out of the air, held it up, looked it over, feeling the sting of betrayal. “You were going to take off without me?"

  Her tone was unapologetic. “I considered it. Decided I should play by the rules this once."

  "Flynn would be proud of you."

  She shrugged as if she no longer cared about Flynn's approval. “I need to say goodbye to Christian. I'll meet you at the barn."

  Twenty minutes later, Zara passed by the statue of Poseidon and shivered. The days were pleasantly warm, but the nights in Switzerland were cold. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees since sunset. She'd already had a taste of the night temps on the Ducati when she and Lawson had ridden through the French and Swiss countrysides. She'd literally frozen her naked butt off, but at least then, she'd had her own personal furnace to snuggle up to.

  There would be no snuggling tonight. Her partner always became all business the minute he strapped on his gun. That Lawson was different from the one who stole her breath with the simplest of looks and worshipped every curve and indention of her body like a sculptor worshipped his model.

  Glancing back at the house, she followed the footpath through the orchard and paused near a statue of Artemis, the Grecian warrior Goddess. She was all professionalism now too, even though her nerves were getting to her right along with the cold. She was about to do surveillance on Dmitri. She was about to sever the carotid artery of her career and possibly Lawson's.

  Looking up at the Goddess's powerful face, she said a prayer. Watch over me, Artemis.

  Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, she was surprised to see Annette walking toward her from the house, instead of Lawson. As she cleared a line of apple trees, Annette lifted a hand in greeting and another chill spread through Zara's body.

  "What are you doing here?” Zara asked. “I thought you went back to Paris with Flynn. He doesn't trust me to come in on my own, does he?"

  Annette stopped, her gaze sliding over the garden before circling the back edge of the orchard that was lined with evergreens. Her attention landed on Zara, but darted off again to the side. “I need to take you out of here for your own safety."

  Zara's nerves crackled under her skin. “I'll take my chances with the French police and FI. I can't—won't—quit this mission yet."

  The FBI agent glanced over her shoulder at Christian's villa. Soft light from the upper-story stained-glass windows filtered into the courtyard. “Dmitri knows you're here. He's coming for you. Tonight."

  Her heart jumped. She instinctively scanned the area all around the gardens, taking a step toward the house. “How did he find out I was here?"

  Annette ignored her question and gripped her arm, steering her away from the villa. “Where's Lawson?"

  "Answer my question, Annette.” Zara tried to remove her arm from her friend's grip, but couldn't without hurting her. “What's going on?"

  Annette continued to propel her across the grass away from Artemis and the orchard. “Where's Lawson? We don't have much time."

  Zara jerked her arm out of Annette's hand. Something was off. Very off. “Did you tell Christian about Dmitri when he let you in? He could be in danger."

  Annette took a step forward. “You're the only one in danger right now."

  The measured tone of her voice triggered an uncomfortable feeling in Zara's stomach. A feeling that had nothing to do with Alexandrov Dmitri. “You're not telling me everything. Do you know how Dmitri found out I was here?"

  Annette sighed audibly and Zara saw her hand move to the gun on her hip. She slipped it out of its holster and pointed it at Zara. “Because I told him, and now I have to deliver you to him and save my sister. So do us both a favor
. Tell me where Lawson is."

  The sight of the gun made adrenaline rush to her nerve endings. “I don't know,” she lied.

  Annette raised the gun so it pointed at her face. “Perhaps you'd like to reconsider that answer."

  Delude, deceive, distract. “What happened to your sister?"

  "Not your concern. I'm taking you and Lawson to Dmitri. I'm sorry, but I don't have any choice."

  Zara nodded as though she understood, and then she kicked her right foot up and caught Annette's gun with the heel of her sneaker.

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  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The partially cloudy night didn't offer much light and the dark woods loomed to her right. Zara smelled the bed of slippery pine needles under her feet as she ran along the tree line. She couldn't see more than ten feet ahead of her, but even if the moon had been fully out, she knew she wouldn't be able to see Annette because of the grade of the hill. She ran on.

  She should have stayed and fought her, but for all Zara's training, her stubborn psyche had resisted. Her fight-or-flight instinct had ordered flight. She's my friend. How could I fight her?

  Catching her breath, she slid her hand across the rough bark of a pine tree and slipped farther into the shadows, trying to keep her bearings as she moved in the direction of the barn. Trying to get her bearings as Annette's betrayal sank into her bones.

  She froze at a noise in the woods behind her. Her hand shook as she reached under her jacket and pulled the Glock from her waistband. She held her breath, gauging where the noise had come from and listening for it to repeat itself. Her eyes fought to bring the nearby trees into focus, but in the dark, everything blended together.

  A minute passed and she heard nothing outside of the breeze rustling the tops of the pines towering above her head. Slowly inching forward, she forced herself to breathe. A deer or some other nocturnal creature deep in the woods had probably stepped on a twig and snapped it.

  Only a rookie would believe that.

  Or a stupid, pampered rich girl.

  Moving forward again, her foot fell on a hard, slippery surface and slid out from under her. She broke the fall with her hands, dropping the Glock on the ground. Swearing under her breath, she patted the bed of pine needles searching for the cool metal.

  Her hand stilled as she heard the noise again, closer this time. She lifted her head, looking over her shoulder and sensed something moving toward her. The way it moved told her it was not a four-legged creature, but it was too sizable to be Annette. Dmitri? Too bulky for him.

  She jumped to her feet and started to run, dodging trees as best she could. The back of the barn had to be close.

  As she cleared the tree line, Zara saw the monstrous two-story horse barn ahead of her. She ran hard, jumping over a water trough and praying the moonlight wouldn't be strong enough to give Annette or her hulk of a friend a clear shot.

  Before she'd gotten more than ten feet, she heard a faint whoosh and felt a sharp sting in her right butt cheek. Opening her mouth to scream for Lawson, she took two more running steps before the ground rushed up to meet her.

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  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Cold. She was so cold, it hurt to move.

  Zara listened to the rise and fall of voices nearby. With her head pounding and her mouth as dry as cotton, she tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were too heavy. They refused to obey.

  Her drugged sleep beckoned at her, and she let herself drift, not wanting to fully wake and face what was happening. Not face the knowledge lurking on the edge of her consciousness.

  A hard shiver ripped through her body and the men's voices jolted her back to wakefulness. Her muscles were limp and she fought to turn over, wanting to get her cheek off the cold floor, but her body wouldn't respond.

  Unconsciousness threatened to take her under again and she used all of her will not to give in. Her training told her to pretend unconsciousness and buy time to get her bearings, yet primal instincts pumped adrenaline through her system making her twitch. The fogginess in her brain cleared a fraction, and snippets of the night and what had happened to her made her heart pound loudly in her ears. She unglued her tongue from the top of her mouth and swallowed.

  Low laughter, familiar and devoid of humor, sent goose bumps over her skin that had nothing to do with the physical cold of the floor. She sensed a presence bending over her as hands gripped her arms to roll her over.

  Struggling to keep her eyes shut, Zara forced her body to act like dead weight. Her captor wasn't fooled. He shook her and slapped her face, bringing about the flinch that revealed her lucidity. As she stared back at his ice-blue eyes her heart seized and her mouth formed the word “no".

  * * * *

  Damn, damn, damn, damn. Lawson punched his fist into the nearest tree and swore a string of curse words. Crouching, he picked Zara's gun up off the ground and bent his head in disgrace. He'd screwed up royally. Someone had kidnapped her right out from under his nose.

  He'd been checking the Ducati's gas level when the twitch in his shoulder blades started hammering at him. He'd left the cycle and run back to the house, a surge of unexplained adrenaline pumping his legs as hard as they would go. Inside, he continued to run, through the east wing and to the west, calling Zara as he went. Christian emerged from the library, and seeing Lawson's distress, joined him in his search. The maid, Maria, reported she'd seen Zara and Annette walking in the garden, but now neither was anywhere to be seen. Why had Annette returned and how had she bypassed the gates and front door? Maria assured Christian Annette had never entered the house.

  He'd run the length of the property, Christian on his heels, and arrived back at the barn. One of Christian's security team had met them there with news that a guard in the back quarter of the property was dead, his neck sliced ear to ear. Searching the woods around the barn, Lawson discovered the Glock.

  No Annette, no Zara. One dead security officer. As he left the woods and showed Christian the gun, his cell phone rang. He almost ignored it, but instinct told him not to. His blood froze, then boiled, as he listened to the voice on the other end.

  "She's beautiful, isn't she? So full of life.” The man sighed. “At least for now."

  Dmitri. How had the son of a bitch found them? How had he kidnapped Zara? Had he kidnapped Annette too? Or had Annette done the kidnapping?

  Lawson drew a sharp breath at the reaction his gut had to the thought. There was no point exploring the how of it at the moment. Dmitri had Zara. The details could wait. “What do you want?"

  "I have what I want. The Princess. I appreciate you bringing her with you to Switzerland. Our reunion has been bittersweet, and it will be even better when her sister joins us."

  Lawson clenched his jaw. Christian's eyes widened as the man came to stand in front of him. “Hurt her or her sister and I swear I'll kill you with my bare hands."

  The terrorist laughed. “Yes, well, first, Monsieur Vaughn, you have to catch me."

  Before Lawson could answer, the connection went dead.

  He punched the closest tree.

  "My God,” Christian said, from behind him. “He's got her, doesn't he? Dmitri's got my Zara again."

  Fingering the cell phone, Lawson breathed in and out and tried to keep thoughts of what Dmitri would do to Zara at bay. Zara and Lucie. Jesus, the bastard would be in heaven having both women at his disposal.

  Considering the mental map in his head of the estate where Dmitri and Vos Loo were holed up, Lawson ran through his options.

  He could save them, but he couldn't walk in with guns blazing and expect a happy outcome. This wasn't a Schwarzenegger movie. He had to fight his impulsive nature and use his head. Failure was not an option.

  Surveillance at Dmitri's new estate was tight but he'd spotted at least one weak point. The problem was, he didn't know the layout of the house or where Dmitri would keep hostages. He couldn't sneak into the estate's compound and rescue them withou
t help. And right now, help, in the form of his team, was too freakin’ far away.

  Turning and striding back toward Christian's house, he punched a speed-dial button and waited for Del Hoffman to pick up.

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  Chapter Thirty-Four

  "Agent Morgan.” Alexandrov Dmitri crouched over her. “What a pleasant surprise to find you here."

  Zara tore her gaze away from his eyes and brought a shaky hand to her face. This couldn't be happening. It had to be another nightmare. There was no way she could face Alexandrov Dmitri like this—on her back without a weapon or a prayer.

  He stood and motioned to one of the four men arranged around the foyer. Each was dressed in black wool pants and a black turtleneck and carrying an automatic weapon. “Help her up, Jean-Paul."

  A young man with chubby cherub cheeks slung his gun around to his back and moved toward her. Strong hands hoisted her to her feet. Her knees buckled, and he half-carried her to a straight-backed chair in the adjoining room. He dropped her onto it, and her right butt cheek screamed where the tranquilizer dart had nailed her. Gripping the edge of the seat, she fought to keep herself upright, swallowing the nausea that tightened the muscles in her jaw.

  The room was carpeted and furnished with a scattering of expensive pieces, including a magnificent Louis XIII desk and matching chair. Heavy wool drapes were closed against the night. Armed men, again dressed completely in black, stood in the corners.

  Dmitri knelt in front of her, the faint odor of his musky aftershave and cigarette smoke teasing her nostrils. His dark hair was longer than the last time she'd seen him, soft curls brushing the straps of his shoulder holster. A thin pink scar ran across the top of his right cheekbone and disappeared into a sideburn. A souvenir from prison?

  "You are not easily dissuaded, are you?” he said. The scar rose on his cheek as he smiled. “I'm beginning to think you like me. Maybe even enjoy being my hostage. Perhaps you get off on fear?"