Claimed by the Secret Agent (13 page)

Marie shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t, but we have to try to find out, don’t we? That’s the whole justification for the meeting instead of going at him like a SWAT team.”

Grant shrugged. “It is a long shot, but yes, we do have to try. Your plan makes sense.”

And that final admission had cost him dearly, she could tell. She slowly released a breath of relief. Grant wasn’t going to contradict her plan. He actually trusted her to handle Bahktar.

“Did Mercier find out anything about him that I should know going in?”

Grant reached across the table and took her hand as he began to speak. “He has an import/export business here in Paris. He presents himself as an expatriate but has made regular and frequent trips back to Iran over the last fifteen years. He has no family that could be identified, either here or there. The wealth he has amassed is tied up in his business assets. Not liquid, apparently.”

Marie nodded. “That explains his motive for seeking ransoms. Why involve Shapur?”

“An easy mark for extortion. Shapur was loosely affiliated with the shah. We suspect Bahktar might originally have been positioned here to keep tabs on the royal family in exile. Intelligence reports now connect him to several arms dealers, probably his main source of income. No surprise there. He’s gathering capital for the next buy.”

“No wife or lady friend? Is he gay?”

“He’s had female companions, all temporary. No males. Of course, that carries a death sentence in his country, so he wouldn’t be open about it.” Grant held her gaze. “But if you’re planning to entice information out of him with your feminine wiles, I really wouldn’t advise it.”

Marie smiled and squeezed his fingers. “And I wouldn’t try it. One dangerous man in my life at a time, a hard-and-fast rule.”

“Am I, Marie? In your life?”

“You’re my partner, aren’t you? Right now, that has to be enough. Is it?”

His expression revealed nothing. “I told you. Whatever you want.”

Marie disengaged her hand and got up from the table. She couldn’t look at him as she replied. “What I want is trust, Grant. You are trusting me with the lead on this and that’s a start.”

“If you require trust, then you ought to give it. Do you trust me, Marie?”

She did look at him then, searching those serious blue-gray eyes. “I trust you with my life.”

He got up and started toward her. She raised a hand before he got within reach, and he stopped, waiting, watching her, saying more with those expressive eyes than words could have done.

Marie meant what she had said; she did trust him. However, she could see what looked very much like love in those mesmerizing eyes, and it wasn’t something she was ready to acknowledge. She could too easily return it, and then where would she be?

But what if she never saw him again after today? One way or another, this meeting with Bahktar would end this mission. It would be over. They would be over.

Unless she accepted a place within COMPASS, she doubted that she and Grant would ever meet again. She would have to refuse the job offer or get caught up in an affair that could only end with one of them losing his or her position.

But if she had no intention of ever seeing him again, why deny herself? Or him, for that matter? Why not have one more splendid memory of perfect lovemaking? He was the best, no doubt about that. She would never find another man like him.

Maybe, just maybe, that satisfaction would make it easier for both of them to let go. Sort of like a private, final goodbye…kiss.

“Grant?” she asked tentatively.

“Yes?” His gaze held hers.

“It’s early yet.” She held out her arms.

He gave her a smile that would melt the coldest heart and came to her. There were no questions, no avowals, no words at all. His kiss drowned all her doubts; he obviously had none in the first place.

Marie clung to him as he carried her back to the bed where he’d slept. She imagined it still warm from his body as he lay down with her.

His hands explored every inch of her as they peeled away the loose shirt and shorts slowly. He moved as if they had all the time in the world and nothing else to do.

She trailed kisses along his neck, loving the taste of his skin, inhaling the subtle scent of his aftershave
and feeling the smoothness of muscle against her lips. He overwhelmed her senses and filled them with pleasure, swept her up in a wave of need that kept rising without breaking.

He uttered wordless sounds of encouragement as he stroked and touched and enticed. Memories of their last time spurred her to hurry him on, but he would not give in.

For what seemed hours, he drew her closer and closer to that moment when he would take her, claim her and join her in the surrender of power that left both of them breathless.

Could she let go again, knowing how it had left her so vulnerable before? But she wanted so desperately, so keenly, there was no going back, no saying no. She wanted it, and she wanted
him
more than anything else in her world. This one last time, she would know how it felt to belong.

“Be with me,” he whispered against her ear as he entered her finally, fully, and began to move.

For once in her life, Marie gave herself, openly, honestly and without reservation. It was like dying. Like being reborn. Like loving. She cried out and held him with all her strength, wishing to the depths of her soul that she never had to let go.

For the longest time, neither of them said anything, but eventually breath and reason returned.

“Are you all right?” Grant asked.

“No,” she admitted, sniffing, not even caring how she sounded. Her world was upside down. “But, please…”

“I know. Be quiet,” he crooned, smoothing her tangled
hair and laying a kiss on top of her head. “Sleep a little now. There’s plenty of time and I’ll watch the clock.”

His voice soothed her, took away the need to think, and she slept.

Mamud Bahktar closed his phone and frowned in thought. Shapur had hired a woman? Small wonder he had not shared the names of the kidnappers he contracted. This one had been in charge of luring the young women out of their safety zones so they could be taken, or so she said. Brazen female. Demanding to meet in a public place signaled she was no idiot. Perhaps she guessed he would want to kill her.

She had said Shapur and his men were dead, killed in a gas explosion at the clinic where the doctor lived. Perhaps it was just as well, since he had planned to get rid of Shapur after one more abduction anyway.

The numbered account would contain enough to begin the arms transaction when added to what he’d be able to borrow against his assets. In any event, he would have to meet with the woman to get that number.

He didn’t like women involved in business, especially
his
business, but he might be able to use her for one last abduction, provided she had male associates who would do the actual deed.

Mamud took out the photo he carried of his betrothed and looked at it for inspiration. A worthy one she was, too. Young, dark-eyed innocence.

He glanced at the other picture that he had tucked away behind hers. So different yet with the same aura of youth and vulnerability. This one was smiling openly,
unaware she was being captured on film, a delicate little blonde about to drive away in her very expensive, bright red convertible. A rich mark. The one who got away.

He really had to do something about finding her.

M
arie couldn’t believe Grant had left the bed without a word. He’d been gone when she woke up, and now she heard him on the phone in the other room.

She pulled on her shorts and shirt, almost afraid to face him because she wasn’t sure how she would react. They had a job to do, however, and no time to waste. When she joined him, he ended his conversation and held out the phone to her. “Whenever you’re ready. Mercier will have our backup available within the hour, but they’ll hold off until we give the word. I was just about to wake you.”

Marie had made the call and arranged the meeting, though Bahktar had insisted on choosing the locale. What he suggested had sounded perfect and should be teeming with people, so she didn’t object.

Then she quickly excused herself to grab a shower and dress for the meeting with Bahktar.

Grant was pacing when she returned to the room. She wore all black—her wrinkle-proof pants, a long-sleeved, body-hugging jersey and a crocheted beret covering most of her hair. The shoes were black flats. “Well?” she asked as she joined him.

His gaze traveled over her slowly. “You look like a baby terrorist. All you need is an AK-47.”

“Bring one along if you can get it,” she replied with a twist of her lips. “He ordered me to come unarmed and to dress so he would know I wasn’t carrying without having to frisk me.”

“I don’t see any place you could hide one.”

She gave a little tilt of her head, lifted one foot and pulled up her pant leg to show her little Glock 27 taped above her ankle. The weapon was used for backup by some agents but was perfect for her primarily since her hands were small. Grant nodded his approval.

In spite of that, she could see that he was itching to call the whole thing off. It showed in every shift of his body, in the tick of his jaw, the worry crinkle between his eyebrows.

Marie hated to see him so worried, but at least she knew that it wasn’t because he thought she was incapable. He just cared about her. Maybe loved her.
Did
love her, she admitted.

“I’ll be okay,” she said, faking a smile. She could admit to herself that she was apprehensive, but she’d never let him see that. This was her chance to do what she had been trained to do.

Grant nodded again. “You know I’ll be close by. One wrong move on his part, and I’m taking him out.”

Marie couldn’t and didn’t argue with the wisdom of that. There might not be time to reach for her own weapon if Bahktar decided she was expendable. Somehow, she didn’t think he would risk violence in the crowd of tourists that would be hanging around. “Why’d he choose Place de la Concorde, I wonder?”

Grant checked his weapon as he answered. “The obelisk. That’s where the guillotine was located. A place of execution. Ready to back out now?”

“No. I don’t think he’ll make a move there. He might try to follow me to a more opportune spot, though. You’ll watch for that.”

“Like a hawk.”

Marie watched as he struggled with the need to dissuade her from doing this. She saw the moment he lost the fight.

“Look, let me do it, Marie. I’ll tell him you hired me to meet with him in your place. You can watch my back.”

“Not gonna happen, Grant. We go in as planned. I’ll chat him up a little, see what I can get on Rivers’s location in exchange for the number. He’ll believe I don’t know where she is, since Shapur and the others were killed unexpectedly and never told me where they had her. I’ll promise him her ransom if I can deliver her alive.”

“He won’t trust you to do it. And he won’t care if she’s alive or not. Maybe he won’t care enough about the money if it means letting you go when you can identify him as part of it.”

“I’m doing this, Grant. If he looks at me cross-eyed, shoot him, but let me get a few questions in first, okay?”

He blew out a sharp breath and shook his head. “All right, all right. But be extremely careful, you hear?”

“I hear.” She glanced at the cheap watch she had picked up in Amsterdam. “It’s time we left if I’m going to beat him there.”

She felt jazzed, up for it, confident things would work out. A positive attitude worked wonders.

Grant grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her soundly on the mouth. She hardly had time to react before he released her.

“I love you, Marie. I know you don’t want to hear that or deal with it now, but I need you to know.”

“I know,” she said, and would have said more, but he shook her gently, interrupting.

“Don’t you get yourself killed, Marie! Or even hurt. I mean it, don’t do
anything
risky.” He cradled her head with one hand, her body with the other and held her tight. “Promise me.”

Ear pressed to his chest, she could hear his heart beating ninety to nothing. Or maybe it was her own pulse racing. For a long time he held her fast, as if he’d never release her. She didn’t even think of pulling away. It felt so good to have someone who cared this much. When had she ever felt anything like this?

When he did let her go, she touched her fingers to her lips and a smile welled up behind them. He was so damn sincere. He
loved
her.

He had seen her at her very worst, bedraggled, grouchy, complaining, bossy, weepy. Never seen her at
her best. She hadn’t had a chance yet to show him her good side. Maybe that was mostly manufactured anyway.

Did she even have a good side? She wasn’t quite sure who she really was when not pressed to play a role, because she had been doing it for so long.

Still, he
loved
her.

Never in her life had she felt any closer to anyone. Not her parents, not her friends and certainly not her coworkers. Maybe she loved him, too, though she didn’t have a very good handle on the love thing. Certainly no comparables. The sex was great, but there was much more to how she felt about Grant than merely the physical.

He was so open, accepting and truly thoughtful, even if that thoughtfulness was often a little overbearing. She understood why and she understood him.

What they were about to do went against every grain of instinct he possessed, letting her put herself out front this way. Also, this was probably the only time in his life he had ever taken the backseat on an op. That couldn’t be easy.

“I promise. No heroics,” she told him. And she meant it at the time. She even kissed him back to seal the deal.

The sky was gray, heavy with clouds when they left the apartment. Traffic was heavy, too. It was nearly ten o’clock, and the meeting was set for ten thirty.

Grant drove down the Champs-Elysées to where the Tuileries Gardens began, whipped down a side street and left the car there. They walked side by side in the mist, silent, each getting psyched up for the meeting.

He stopped her before they turned the corner onto the main thoroughfare. “Remember your promise,” he said with a featherlight touch to her cheek. Concern clouded his eyes and put that deep little dent between his eyebrows.

She smoothed it out with her fingertip and grinned up at him. “I’ll be
fine.
Just stay close by. If I need you to jump in, I’ll do this.” She opened her left hand and placed it over her upper chest, her fingers splayed.

He nodded, placed his hand over hers and gave it a pat.

Marie strolled along well ahead of him as if she had nothing better to do than kill time. She wandered around the equestrian statue that marked the intersection of the East-West and North-South approaches. The obelisk stood in the midst of a large oval area with fountains at either end. The area was much bigger than it had looked in photos.

The mist turned to definite sprinkles. Then it began to rain. Thank goodness it wasn’t a downpour, but it was heavy enough to thin out the tourists who were now dashing for cover. They were her protection, and they were disappearing, unaware of how she might need them.

She walked on to the nearest fountain, glancing now and then at the area around the obelisk for a man in a suit with a red tie. That had been his idea. She had told him she would wear all black, which really was about all she had with her anyway.

Place de la Concorde spooked her a little. During the revolution nearly three thousand people had had their heads chopped on that spot where the obelisk stood now. Locals declared then that cattle wouldn’t even approach the place because the smell of blood was so
strong. She imagined she could smell it now over two centuries later.

She hoped Bahktar’s choice of rendezvous didn’t have a hidden meaning.

There he was now, approaching. He looked around fifty, rather handsome, tall, dark, neat mustache and stylishly cropped hair. He was wearing an expensive, tailor-made raincoat. The picture of a well-to-do businessman, impatient to complete his transaction and get somewhere out of the rain. The knot and upper half of his red tie stood out against the white shirt and gray lapels. He carried his closed umbrella like a cane.

Marie wandered to the edge of the fountain, where rain was disturbing the surface. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Grant pass by her and head toward the obelisk. He paused near it, ignoring Bahktar, and took out what appeared to be a guidebook. His glance went from book to monument and back again as if comparing written facts with reality.

He was wearing her baseball cap. In his loose, all-weather jacket, worn jeans and scuffed running shoes, Grant looked and moved like a determined tourist with limited time to see the sights.

Bahktar watched him closely for a few minutes, then shrugged with flagging interest when Grant headed in the direction of one of the statues, still paging through the little book. Where had he secured that prop? It was probably the car manual, she realized.

She waited a few moments, took a deep breath and began her approach, fingers tucked into the flat pockets on the front of her slacks. She kept her head down,
watching the uneven pavers and the gathering puddles at her feet. She was nearly soaked through but hardly noticed that discomfort.

Bravado spurred her on, right up to the wrought iron fence that surrounded the obelisk. She stood about six feet from Bahktar and sensed him staring at her profile.

“You want the last installment transferred to the account?” she asked without preamble. She spoke in English using a Flemish accent. “There is a price.”

Bahktar walked closer to her. Marie kept her eyes averted, waiting to see how he would respond.

“You have the ransom?” he asked, his words clipped but sounding quite relaxed considering the tense situation.

“Not yet. Shapur had the girl stashed somewhere, and I couldn’t find her. If you know where, tell me and I’ll handle the switch. If you don’t, our business here is finished.”

“Not quite. I believe you have a number for me.”

“First the girl’s location. If you don’t want her ransom, I do. That’s the price of your precious number. I would have used it myself, but he didn’t give me the name of the bank. You have that, I presume?”

“Give me the number or I will kill you,” he said succinctly. “I will kill you right here.”

And he might try that, Marie thought. Almost all of the foot traffic in the area had disappeared. Except for Grant. She couldn’t see him without turning around, but trusted he was within range.

“Kill me and forgo the stash Shapur sacked away for you? I don’t think so.” She looked straight at him then,
chin up, and she smiled with confidence, running the bluff for all she was worth.

And saw instant shock and recognition in his eyes.
Omigod
, he
knew
who she was! How did he know?

She immediately placed her open left hand on her chest, the signal to Grant for help. With her right arm straight down, she lifted her leg behind her and went for the gun near her ankle, hoping Bahktar wouldn’t notice what she was doing until she had it in hand.

He moved like lightning, caught her off balance and grabbed her in a stranglehold, his back against the fence. One arm clamped her to him; the other braced her shoulder, his knife at her neck.

“Let her go!” Grant demanded, his Glock leveled at Bahktar. And also at her, since she was his shield. She felt the blade. Where the devil had that come from, the umbrella? He must have planned all along to dispense with her silently right here by the obelisk.

“Drop the pistol,” Bahktar said to Grant with deadly calm. “If you do not, I will slice her jugular. Do it
now.
”

Marie had to do something. Grant would probably concede in an attempt to save her, but she knew she was done for, no matter what he did, unless she got out of Bahktar’s grasp.

“He won’t shoot you without an order,” she gasped, addressing her captor. “Loosen up and I’ll call him off. Kill me and it’s over for you. I hired him for protection. He’s a pro.”

She felt the pressure lighten a little, but the knife still lay too close to the carotid for her to make a move. “Back off!” she called to Grant. “It’s okay. I’ve got it covered.”

“Toss the weapon and take a walk,” Bahktar added.

Marie watched Grant hesitate. He shot her a questioning look. She smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. After a few more seconds, he crouched down and laid his gun on the pavers. Slowly he backed away from it. Now there was trust, she thought, wondering if she could live up to it.

Bahktar still held her but lowered the knife a few inches. “Who are you, woman?” he asked.

Marie issued a nervous chuckle. “I’m Beauclair. Shapur hired Onders to snatch me from the embassy. Since my family wouldn’t give a worthless franc for my life or anyone else’s, I persuaded him to let me in on the deal and I would help him with the next mark.”

“He was a fool. How did you
persuade
him?”

“Exactly how you think I did. Yeah, that, plus I promised to make it child’s play to grab the next one if he’d give me 10 percent of his take.”

“Shapur agreed to this?”

“We didn’t tell
him.
The only time I spoke to Shapur was when he was dying after the explosion. He begged me to bring you the number and plead with you for his daughter’s life.”

Bahktar scoffed. “She’s been dead for two years.”