Devious Minds Page 8

  “I’m just a little nervous,” I said. “Maybe I’d better not go.”

  Blake shook his head. “There’s absolutely nothing to be worried about. This is just a routine fishing expedition. I won’t let anything happen to you, Shelby. I promise. You’re not field trained, and I could never ask you to do something that I knew was dangerous.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. What did you think we were going to do?”

  “I don’t know... meet with some terrorists or something?”

  He huffed out a breath. “Not even close. It’s just an old friend of mine. Remember that time I met with you and Manetto at his club?”

  I nodded and he continued. “It will be just like that. We’ll be having dinner with an old friend and you can tell me if you get any premonitions about him. That’s it. Once we’re done, you’ll have an extra day or two to do some tourist things. I have some business to take care of, but for the most part, I’ll be free to show you around. Have you ever been to Paris?”

  “No.”

  “You’ll love it. Seriously. I promise you’ll be fine.”

  I couldn’t pick up any kind of deception from his mind, so he had to be telling the truth. I sighed with relief, and even managed a small smile. “Okay. I guess I’m ready.”

  Blake grabbed my luggage before I could change my mind, leaving me to lock the door and follow him to the car. The driver had the trunk open and, before I knew it, I was sitting in the back seat next to Blake with the car driving away and leaving everything I loved behind me.

  Since I wasn’t on the plane yet, I knew I could still change my mind about going. So, on the drive to the airport, I tuned in to Blake’s thoughts for some clarification and found that he was actually looking forward to this trip.

  This meeting with Mason was the culmination of hours of hard work and lots of compromise on his part. He had high hopes that his friend would see reason and they could work something out. This was just the beginning of the long road ahead, but it was a start.

  Hearing this helped me relax. If they were friends, maybe Uncle Joey didn’t know the whole story. Still, I was determined not to get on Mason’s bad side, no matter what Blake thought.

  All too soon, our car pulled up to the drop-off point at the airport. Our driver jumped out and opened our doors, then popped the trunk to get our luggage. As my stomach clenched with sudden nerves, I slid out of the car and tried to control my pre-flight jitters. The driver had already taken our bags to the curbside handling agent, and I followed with less enthusiasm.

  The agent asked to see my passport, and I fumbled through my purse to find it. I handed it over, and he examined my photo. Then he tagged my bag, and it was time to go. Blake waited until I was next to him before heading inside.

  He was thinking about offering me his arm, since I looked a little shaky and he didn’t want me to back out. What had gotten into me anyway? Why did I look so scared?

  “Does flying bother you?” he finally asked.

  “Uh... yeah, sometimes I get nervous,” I answered. Usually flying didn’t bother me at all, but this was totally different.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Just so you know, we’re flying from here to John F. Kennedy Airport in New York. Then from there, it’s straight to Paris.” I nodded, but didn’t say anything, so he continued. “If it helps, we’re flying first class on both planes.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised and a touch relieved.

  “Of course. Once we board the plane in New York, it’ll take about eight hours to reach Paris. With the time change, we’ll arrive in Paris around one in the afternoon, so hopefully we can get some sleep on the plane and the jet lag won’t be bad. I’ve found it makes a huge difference.” He was thinking about how the seats folded out into beds, and on long flights, it was the only way to go.

  “Wow. That sounds pretty good,” I said, my reluctance rapidly disappearing.

  We reached security, and Blake directed me to the VIP line. Getting through security was always the worst part of any trip, but with Blake, it was a breeze. In no time at all, we were at the gate and ready to board.

  We only waited for about twenty minutes before they called for all the first-class passengers. This was my last chance to back out, but I hardly even hesitated. As I walked down the jetbridge to the plane, I realized excitement had replaced my earlier dread. It was probably flying first-class that did it, but on the other hand, Blake had a calming effect on me. His mind was quiet and confident, not always open to read, but not frantic either, and I felt safe.

  It kind of made me mad that Uncle Joey had scared me earlier, but I couldn’t blame him. I’d just have to prove that I could handle things on my own. I wasn’t that same naïve woman he’d first met nearly a year ago. I’d gotten pretty good at taking care of myself along the way, and there was no reason to doubt my abilities now.

  Chapter 5

  Flying first class to Paris exceeded all of my expectations.

  Before we’d even left the tarmac from John F. Kennedy Airport, the flight attendant was there to offer drinks and other amenities I didn’t know existed on planes. Dinner came right after takeoff and, once I finished, I took half an anxiety pill before extending my seat into a bed to get comfortable. With a warm blanket, soft pillow, eye mask and ear plugs, I was set.

  Not surprisingly, since I’d hardly slept the night before, I fell right asleep. I slept soundly until a slight nudge on my shoulder woke me. “We’re thirty minutes from Paris,” the flight attendant said. I thanked her and stretched, then straightened my seat back into the upright position. I glanced at Blake and found him sipping a cup of coffee. “Good morning,” he said.

  I smiled and tidied my hair before making a quick visit to the restroom. After resuming my seat, I glanced out the window to see the green, sprawling countryside of France. The sun was shining, and the day was clear. Anticipation sent a thrill of excitement through me.

  After landing, Blake made a phone call before we left the plane. Then we had to go through customs and take a train to the main building and our luggage. With our bags in hand, Blake led the way to an ATM and slid in his credit card. He punched in a number, and five hundred euros came out. “Here’s two hundred fifty euros for you,” he said, holding the cash toward me. “Put it somewhere safe. There are a lot of pick-pockets and purse-snatchers around.” He glanced at my big carry-on bag and frowned.

  “My smaller purse is inside.” I took it out and showed him. “It’s an over-the-shoulder bag with lots of zippers.”

  “Oh, yeah. That should work well.” He was thinking it was perfect, and that I was better prepared than he thought for the short amount of time he’d given me. I hesitated to take the money, and Blake caught my gaze. “This is emergency money, for if you ever need a cab or something. I’ve found it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll give back what I don’t spend.”

  “Sure,” he said, but he was thinking that he didn’t care if I spent it all or not, he just wanted to keep me safe. Warmth flooded over me that he cared, melting away the last remnants of anxiety. I quickly found the interior zipper in my purse and stashed the cash inside, then zipped everything closed.

  I followed Blake outside to find a car and driver waiting for us. The driver obviously knew Blake and hurried over to greet us.

  “Bonjour, Monsieur, Madame, welcome to Paris.” With a polite smile, he opened the car door for me, then took our bags and hefted them into the trunk. Wow. How slick was that? I had to admit that traveling with Blake certainly had its advantages.

  I settled into my seat and kept my gaze out the window, watching anxiously for my first view of the city and the Eiffel Tower.

  “It will take us about forty-five minutes before we get to the city,” Blake said. I nodded, and he continued. “We’ll be staying in an apartment that I use when I come here. It’s small, but I think you’ll like it. You’ll have your own room and bath, and there�
��s a kitchen and living room with a wonderful balcony.” He’d asked the woman who managed the apartment to stock the fridge and was hoping the rain held off.

  “Does it rain a lot?” I asked. Oops. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t think my question had anything to do with his thoughts.

  His brows drew together, but he shook it off. “Actually, in France, March is usually the driest month of the year.” He was thinking of the six years he’d spent off and on in Paris. “March can be chilly, but it’s the beginning of spring, so it’s hard to say.”

  “So what’s the plan for the day?” I asked.

  “I thought we’d get settled in the apartment, and then see some sights. Since you slept on the plane, I take it you don’t need a nap?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “Then we won’t waste any time. What do you want to see?” He glanced at the driver, thinking he didn’t want him to know our plans were anything more than a sightseeing trip, and he hoped I wouldn’t ask about his friend and our main reason for coming.

  “Well, the Eiffel Tower for sure.”

  He smiled and leaned forward. “Louis, pouvez-vous prendre la route panoramique qui longe la Tour Eiffel?”

  “Oui, monsieur,” the driver answered, sending a smile over his shoulder at me.

  Holy crap! I knew what Blake said because he’d thought it in his mind before translating it into French, but as the driver smiled at me, his thoughts zoomed along so rapidly, I couldn’t pick up a thing. I’d kind of hoped that my two years of French in high school might help me out a little, but now I realized how naïve that was.

  “What did you say?” I asked Blake, just to make sure he knew I didn’t know French.

  “I asked him to drive past the Eiffel Tower so you could see it.”

  “Sweet!” I glanced out the window. “Tell me when we get close. I don’t want to miss it.”

  “We will be there in about fifteen minutes,” the driver, whom I now knew as Louis, said in a thick, French accent.

  “Great. Thanks.” So now I knew two things. He thought in French, but also English right before he spoke English, kind of like Blake did before he spoke French. I wasn’t sure how that would help me, but I was grasping at straws here and willing to take anything I could get.

  The other thing I caught was a feeling of pride. So even though I couldn’t read his French thoughts, I could pick up the feeling behind them. Of course, wasn’t that true whether I could read minds or not? The variations of tone and facial expressions said almost as much as the words or thoughts themselves.

  Just then, he glanced back at me, and I heard nous y sommes presque in his mind. I had no idea what that meant, but I looked out the window. We rounded a bend, and there it was. The Eiffel Tower. Several tour buses were parked on the side of the road, blocking my view, but our driver maneuvered into a parking spot and stopped.

  “I will wait here. Go take a look,” Louis said.

  I could hardly contain my excitement and jumped out of the car. As I whipped out my phone, Blake came to my side. I took a couple of pictures before Blake spoke. “Here. Let me take that and you go stand over there.” I eagerly complied and smiled brightly while he took my picture.

  I hurried back to his side. “Can we get closer?”

  He glanced back at Louis, who was talking on his phone. Blake wondered who he was talking to, and if this was a ploy to get us out of the car so Louis could make this phone call. “We’ll come back. All right?”

  “Okay, sure.”

  As we got back to the car, Louis smiled innocently, with no sign of a cell phone in sight. Of course, listening to his thoughts did nothing to help me know if Blake’s suspicions were correct. I felt like I was running blind, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  “Thanks for stopping,” I said to Blake. He nodded, and we resumed our ride through the streets of Paris. About ten minutes later, Louis pulled off the road right up to a double doorway. It took me a minute to realize this was a driveway, since it went right over the sidewalk. He got out and pushed open the bright red doors, revealing a short, circular drive into a courtyard. We drove inside and pulled up beside another entryway into a six or seven story building.

  “Wow, this is... amazing. You’re not far from the Eiffel Tower, are you?”

  “No. My apartment is in the Marais district in the fourth arrondissement, so it’s in the heart of Paris and within walking distance of most everything you’ll want to see.” He was thinking how much he loved it here, and how lucky he’d been to get this place back in the late eighties before the prices skyrocketed.

  “So, do you live here?”

  “It’s complicated,” he answered. “Let’s just say I lived here for a time and, since I loved it so much, I come back whenever I get the chance.” He was thinking it was mostly when his cover required it, like now, but he hoped in the future he’d be done with this business and could stay as long as he wanted.

  Louis had our bags out and exchanged them for the money Blake handed him. With a quick nod of his head, and a special smile for me, he got back in the car. As Louis drove away, I glanced at Blake, noting his narrowed eyes. He was wondering if Louis was up to something, and it bothered him. He’d never worried about Louis before, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t gotten to him.

  Blake’s gaze turned to me, catching me watching him. “Shall we go inside?”

  “Sure,” I said, shrugging like I hadn’t noticed.

  Inside, there were stairs going up on both sides of the corridor. Further in, an old elevator with a metal grate stood open. Blake headed that way. “I’m on the sixth floor, so we’ll take the elevator.” We got in, closed the grate, and pushed the button. The elevator shuddered and groaned as it began to move, and I held my breath. It slowly rose but took so long, I figured we could have walked up, and beat it easily.

  By the time we got to the sixth floor, I was eager to get out. Blake hid a smile at my nerves, and took off down the hall. He took out his keys and unlocked a door at the very end of the hall. As it swung open, my breath caught at the view from the window.

  “Is that Notre-Dame?” I gasped.

  He chuckled. “Actually, that’s The Hôtel de Ville where the city’s local administration is housed. The buildings just beyond those are on the Ile-de-la-Cité where Notre-Dame is located. In the distance, you can just make out the cathedral’s spire from here.”

  “Oh yes, I see it now.”

  “All of those buildings are actually on an island in the river Seine. In fact, Notre-Dame was built at the same spot where the Romans built a temple to Jupiter. The cathedral was first built in the twelfth century, but through the years, and because of the revolution, it fell into disrepair. If it wasn’t for Victor Hugo and his book, it may have been destroyed.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

  “Your room is this way,” he said. “Why don’t you get settled, and then we’ll go exploring?”

  “Okay!” He didn’t have to ask me twice. The bedrooms were on the other side of the living room and small kitchen and were larger than I’d expected. “I thought you said this apartment was small.”

  He shrugged. “These bedrooms used to be part of another apartment, but I was able to buy it and put in these rooms and bathrooms. You can use that bedroom.” He motioned to the bedroom with billowing curtains framing another open window which looked out over the city. “My housekeeper must have opened the windows to air the place out when she came in this morning.”

  It was a little chilly, but I rushed over to look out the windows. The view was breathtaking. “This is perfect!”

  “Good,” he said, clearly pleased with my reaction. “I’ll leave you to get settled.”

  The door shut behind him, and I glanced around the room. A queen sized bed with a metal frame took up most of the space, and two bed-stands with lamps flanked either side. A large wooden dresser with a mirror stood on the opposite wall.

  A door beside the dresser opened into a smal
l bathroom, with the shower and basin all done in beautiful tile work. Fresh towels and soap, along with an array of small bottles of lotions and shampoo, lined the countertop.

  This was amazing. I heaved a sigh, happy and grateful I’d come. I could hardly believe I’d almost chickened out. I would have missed this! I hurried back to the bedroom and unloaded my suitcase, placing my toiletries in the bathroom and my clothes in the dresser, then shoved my empty suitcase under the bed.

  I quickly changed into a fresh blouse and my favorite black jeans and boots, then hurried into the bathroom to brush my teeth. After combing my hair and updating my make-up, I was ready to go. But first I needed to call Chris. The phone rang for the longest time before he finally picked up.

  “Hi Chris. It’s me. I’m here... in Paris.”

  “Oh... hey,” he said. “Uh... So you made it?”

  “Yeah. Did I wake you?”

  “Uh... yeah... it’s like three or four in the morning here.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I apologized. “I guess I should have waited.”

  “No... it’s okay. I’m glad you called. So is everything good?”

  “Yes. It’s great. I’m just headed out to do a little sight-seeing. Do you want to call me later?”

  “Yeah. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “Okay. Be sure and tell the kids I made it. Oh, and I’ll text you a picture of me in front of the Eiffel Tower.”

  “Sure... okay,” he mumbled. “Love you.”

  “Love you too.” We disconnected, and a twinge of guilt hit me in the chest. Maybe I’d better not send too many pictures of me having a great time, since I didn’t want him to feel jealous or anything. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy myself. I was in Paris, for Pete’s sake!

  I let out my breath and slipped my phone into my pocket, then grabbed my black leather motorcycle jacket and walked out the door. I heard Blake’s voice coming from his bedroom and decided he was talking on his phone. Not wanting to interrupt, I wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

  “Yes,” I said, happy to find several cans of soda inside. Instead of diet, they all said light, but I figured that was just how they did it here and grabbed a can. Popped the lid open, then ambled to the window and took a big swig. Yup, this was pretty awesome.